#i didnt mean to make jester so short

[tayliii]

you called me on the new years, i honestly didnt expect it, didn't even thought about it but it was the biggest thing on my mind last year one the same day. my phone was in the charger so i couldn't hear it ringing, i was laughing and drinking wine with my family, almost everyone came and it was a warm atphomere. i unlocked it and was suprised to see your name on my notifications, i called, you didn't answer, i checked my messages and found out you were celebrating it with her. and then you called, you talked, asked how am i, what was i doing. i didn't ask you back. my answers were short i didn't dare speak long because i know my voice was cracking and it had a little tremble to it, i am mostly certain that you noticed it and if you didnt that means you've forggotten how my voice sounded, but i remember yours clearly so it was obvious that you were making fun of me with this phone call, the sharp cut to it and the underlaying mischief i know very well, you used it on people you were making fun of, of people you though were stupid, i could even imagine lines that adored your face with your mean eyes. you said "see you next year" such an original joke indeed. and i "see you" the answer was "will you?" " we go to the same school" "but will we see each other outside of it?" "no." "why?" why? because i dont want to, because you literally verbally bullied me, made fun of me, made me angry, made me sad, its literally been a year since we talked, you arent even genuine about meeting outside, i dont even look you in the eyes at school because i dont even wanna see you, you can live your happiest life without me seeing, but i wont be there to witness it because, you the jester who thrives under attention and validation from people dont deserve to hear my claps from seats. i made that desicion and i am gonna stick to it unlike you who goes back to the people who betrayed you, you have very little self respect and i wont lower mine like you do. i am someone whos sure in their desicions, unlike you.

"because i am someone who is sure in their desicions"

laughter, sharp laughther that cuts.

[macncherries]

ABBSSSOLUTELY ABSOLUTELY. so sorry for playing Reblog Tag with you. but i definitely find your points very interesting, especially the latter ones!!!

FIRSTLY DEFINETELY THIS THING SAME APPLIES TO ALL POC IN DUNGEON MESHI. Cithis by extension as well. She is very very prettyful and needs to represented ACCURATELY!!!!! Kiki and Kaka as well. Though i wish their names werent debatably a microaggression. Or at the very least stereotypical & uncreative. I also wish they werent so Dry. Like you said.

Flamela may be different. I still think shes POC-Implied. Racially ambiguous as well, as you mentioned. When i first saw her in the manga i was very very confused as to why she was Entirely Pitch Black. This happened with Heimea as well (her great aunt!). But! The fact her complexion is genetic does tell me its a ethnic representation of some kind. Do i think its done well? No, obviously not. But again, if i were to draw her i would likely take this into account and pivot the portrayal toward regions that would have darker complexions. It seems like, as in, my best guess, what Kui was going for was a desaturated dark complexation. You can see this better in Flamela's coloured art. I surmise it would be similar to common South East Africa and/or Ethiopian complexions. A more specific guess would be somewhere within the Suri People's common complexion genetics.

Take that with a grain of salt, though! I also don't find it excusable under any circumstance! I just enjoy making educated guesses, especially when it benefits the characters development.... even tho it's not canon... i can pretend ...<3

Most of all though i found your interpretation of Thistles POC identity as an allegory very interesting/enlightening /pos. Genuinely, because i tend to read things at face value when it comes to story telling, i hadn't initially thought about it. We're directly told that Thistles existence as a court jester for the kingdom is a show of power. Because tall-men (a short lived race) having a long lived race as a subordinate is a great way to show that power. That is the sole reason Delgal, among others, chose to have him work for the Kingdom. Because the answer was so cut-and-dry, i didnt really read any further. But what you bring up does make a really interesting point. Not all Elves, in fact, the majority of them, do not act subserviently. They almost tend to lean more toward acting "full of themselves" (?) for lack of a better word. But he is always seen as very doting in the beginning, and then rageful later on. It really is an allegory, without the guise of an allegory at all, like you said. The fact that his worldview and general mindset are also impacted by his position and behaviour toward others in the Kingdom is proof that it affects all aspects of him. As in, it's exactly as you said, he acts the way he does and feels the way he does because of his ethnicity, not his "magic" race. I like that you are adamant that it is not an allegory, it is the real experience. I would not have hoped to conclude that in a million years!!! In a way it is also very poetic LOL but i do agree with you entirely.

Also, you are not mean for pointing out white people (™️) as the main culprits of this offence. You are just correct. I havent seen POC do Kabru/Thistle/Cithis/Others dirty. Proof enough, methinks....

I say that ^ as a white person. MFs be out here zapping the culture and nuance of the whole cast. ( ˘︹˘ )

I talked about this in twt but yall need to start drawing thistle with poc features. Seeing fetureless thistle is lime seeing an angel without its wings.

[agentmintea]

a wizard uselessly in love // @widojestweek (or a late day 5: spells)

[botanyshitposts]

What are the "several more than two" sexes then? And please don't count people with intersex conditions as third+ sexes, intersex orgs have said multiple times that that is othering them.

thats the thing, dude, i didnt say that intersex people were a homogeneous third sex, i said that intersex people are an example of what’s true for literally everyone else: there is so much genetic variation within sex that its easier to examine sex itself on a gradient. very few people, on a microscopic level, are exactly the same in their sex, be it because of genetics, epigenetics, or sociological factors. all of these different combinations usually result in one of two outcomes, but not always, and as a result someone being different doesnt make them like, more or less of a Real Man/Woman(tm) because life itself does not work in homogeneous genetic bins, but to you people to prove my argument i need to show that theres a third type of person with their biological sex set to Wumbo, which like.....quite honestly, is the burning core of the terf mindset.

the terf mindset is that there is no grey area. there is only Good or Evil, and things are very simple, because if you’re born with a uterus youre Good, and if youre born with a penis you’re Evil. this isn’t even like, a metaphorical thing re: prejudice or oppression or any other complex structures and influences that normal feminism takes up and discusses either; it literally is like, Evil Is Stored In The Balls, and people born with penises lack the capacity for emotion/humanity/anything but thinking obsessively about how to attack women, and there is no nuance or redemption or shades of grey, and as soon as you’re born with a penis you’re already a traitor whos entered the spongebob Every Villain Is Lemons club. what makes someone with a penis evil? well, the penis does, and vice versa. in short, it’s literally what 15 year olds on xbox live think feminism is.

so how does somebody reconcile with this really wild black and white view of the world? through a lot of contradictions. trans men arent Bad- how can they be, because they have Uteruses- instead theyre women who have been tricked by trans women into being Evil, because women are both independent free thinkers and brainwashed, simultaneously strong and weak, and perpetually both smart and stupid, all at the same time. why would someone with a uterus want to have a hysterectomy? well, because they must not know what you know that having a hysterectomy means taking the uterus out, and the uteus is where the good purity of women is stored, and that would mean they would become Evil. why are trans women Bad? because trans women have penises and penises are where the Evil is, so if you have a penis you have no empathy and might as well be brain dead. why am i, a trans guy, making this post? why would someone with a uterus disagree with you? because clearly i am either a traitor to The Good Side or profoundly misinformed about how the world works (penis gives you Evil Disease).

what you look like is the causation for who you are. not how you are treated, but literally how you are, and what you will be. if someone with a penis was born on a deserted island, they would still be Evil forever. if there existed a theoretical third Wumbo human biological sex that had completely different sex chromosomes, the determination of if they were more man-like or more-woman like would come nearly immediately as a means to determine which side you should take them on. does the Wumbo person have two of the same chromosomes or one? does the Wumbo person have long hair? is the Wumbo person Good or Evil? 

so any discussion of the nuances of sex and gender is lost. there is no point. the only thing that matters is if someone is Good or Bad. if you say not all women have uteruses, or that some women are sterile, or that all people aren’t exactly genetically identical to one another, that literally cannot be, because there are only two bins of people allowed: either 100% pure or 100% evil. if i’m right that sex and gender both occur on gradients, it would mean that someone could be like, 50-50 Good and Evil, which is preposterous. if the argument is that gender exists, it actually doesnt because that would mean admitting that something else other than what’s in your pants determines any part of who you are. if the argument is that not all women are the same in x way, actually that’s not what you were talking about at all and being Good is really connected to which gametes you produce, or if you make more estrogen than testosterone, or if your femurs are x cm long, and of course not everyone has these, because that’s just....not how biology works and not how sex works and, quite frankly, not how people work. ‘gender critical’ doesnt even mean that youre critical of the structure of gender; it means youre critical that gender exists because it means that you cant sort the entire world into 2 huge camps to have a marvel endgame superfight that would include the theoretical Wumbo person, who would be sorted into one group or the other based on like, if theyve ever bought earrings from Claire's or something.

anyway. like a child prince watching the jesters in court i am Bored and am going to start banishing people now. get well soon my dudes, hope you get out of the sauce lmao

[unicyclehippo]

for a prompt like. jes goes to bed early and beau figures she’s just talking to the traveler, when she goes up she hears her talking to marion about beau and she’s just like oh. in my head it was sending but more content if they’re in nicodranas.,, idk u decide! idk how to sign this off so.,, may your microwave work for the foreseeable future :) okaybye!

they’ve been in town for a couple days and it’s great, it’s really great. nott is veth again and she’s all but disappeared with yeza and luc, spending all her time with them on the beach and in their rooms, hearing all the stories luc has about everything he has seen—twice. jester is likewise absorbed in spending time with her mum and so it’s just beau, caleb, fjord, yasha and cad. which is actually most of them but it feels odd, missing their loudest members. they spent the day—last of the three they set aside for a small vacation before orly is set to take them east to the volcano—at the beach, mostly, and then in a bookstore for a faintly smiling caleb, even though they all smell of seaweed and salt and they’re leaving sand behind them wherever they go. when he’s content and the books hidden in fjord’s bag of holding, they lose themselves in the warren of winding streets and find the diviest of bars to drink in until the whole world is warm and slightly blurred and they fling arms over shoulders and walk in a stumbling lockstep back to the chateau, not nearly drunk enough to forget the way back, not drunk at all. just—content.

jester meets them at the bottom of the steps, her hair in a new style that makes beau blink and then wink each eye in case that’ll help her focus.

‘you - changed your hair,’ she blurts.

caleb, whose shoulders her arm hangs around, staggers when she lurches forward a step.

jester lifts her hand to the short ends, runs it through the shorter curls. it’s been cut into a sweet bob, one that frames her heart-shaped face and—

‘is it bad?’ she asks, nose crinkling with worry.

beau blinks stupidly at her. ‘no,’ she says.

jester waits. then, ‘oh. okay.’

‘looks good, jessie,’ fjord calls. he looks suspiciously put together and beau wonders if it’s a paladin thing or if he’d been smart to let her win their drinking contest. she’s still thinking about it, and grinning because it had been a good, fun night, when he asks gently, ‘ready for tomorrow morning?’

‘oh. well, yes and no. i’m excited to go to traveller con of course but,’ she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. shrugs delicately. ‘i always miss my mama.’

there’s a round of nods.

beau stares at jester’s curls. her fingers burn to touch them, to feel if the curls are actually heavy or if it’s just the way they fall, if they’re as soft as they look.

‘we should—get to sleep,’ caleb says, and the words slur the slightest bit with alcohol and a weighted accent. ‘jester, the hairdresser must be a transmutation wizard. they have changed you,’ he says, and then laughs a quick laugh, which he quickly contains. but his eyes are happy and that has everyone laughing too.

‘that’s a terrible joke,’ jester tells him. ‘go to bed, all of you. and caleb—teleportation circle for tomorrow’s spells.’

‘ja, ja, i will remember.’ he taps the side of his long nose. ‘i remember.’

he and fjord and caduceus begin to climb the steps to their room. yasha makes excuses oddly fast to follow, and beau catches her eyes as she slides behind jester. yasha shoots her a look beau can’t decipher and the woman must realise that because she sighs, smiles, and continues on up the steps.

‘did you have fun tonight, beau?’

‘i missed you.’ jester eyes widen slightly. beau hurries to explain. ‘not that it’s not cool that you spent it with your mum, of course you should do that, we all know you miss her heaps which is - wow - really nice, actually? and she loves you so, duh. it’s just,’ beau shrugs, and she thinks maybe she’s a little more drunk than she originally thought because the slow clumsiness of it is catching up, makes her feel a little awkward in her own feet. ‘it’s different without you an’ nott. veth. i guess it’s not as fun for you ‘cause you don’t drink but there were card games you woulda liked. and it’s—we were just hanging out, y’know? ‘s’not the same without you. nicer when you’re there.’ she smiles then, and when jester just stares at her, she smiles wider, trying to push all the sincerity as she can into it. jester loves nicodranas and her mum, beau knows, and she’s not afraid that jester will stay behind, certainly not so close to traveller con, but beau thinks it’s not a bad time to remind jester that actually they all really, really adore her and she was missed.

the re-doubled smile must work because jester blinks a few times and then returns the smile.

‘beau,’ she says teasingly, ‘you’re so sweet when you’re drunk.’

‘i’m not that drunk.’

‘you’re pretty drunk,’ jester tells her with faux solemnity. ‘want me to take you to bed? i mean, to bed! like, to your bed to sleep.’

beau grins. ‘you’re blushing.’

jester scowls. ‘no.’

‘mhm.’ she steps closer. taps jester’s cheek. she’s gentle about it, pushes all her attention to it so she doesn’t drunkenly jab her hard. it has the effect she intended—soft, not painful—and one she didn’t, in that she feels with perfect clarity how soft jester’s cheek is, the warmth of her flush. she lets her finger drop. wavers a little where she stands only a few inches from jester. ‘um. i can make it,’ she tells jester. ‘you came down for cookies, right?’

jester frowns. ‘how did you—‘

‘not as drunk as i look,’ beau tells her cheerfully. ‘we definitely caught you out, you were trying to be sneaky ‘bout it. it’s after dinner and you’re better about sweets when you’re with your mum. an’ you were talking about ‘em this morning.’ jester stares up at her, shakes her head slowly. she looks confused, and really pretty, and beau is filled with sudden warmth at the idea of knowing someone as well as she knows jester. ‘have fun, drink some good milk. you would’ve hated the bar, the milk was bad.’

‘you had some?’

beau shrugs. ‘i ordered one for you, forgot you weren’t there. we all drank some.’ she pulls a face. then kisses jester’s cheek, presses her own flushed cheek to jester’s, who holds very still.

then, beau carries herself happily up the stairs and to jester’s room, collapsing boneless to the bed.

//

her head feels like it’s been filled with angry bees when she wakes. that might be the dream she’d had. her mouth tastes like she licked a dirty boot, too. disgusting.

if she holds herself very still, though, she can ignore all of that and maybe, maybe, fall back to sleep.

just as she thinks about it, beau knows it’s not gonna happen. her neck cricks and her bladder screams from the pressure and so with a groan she rolls to the side and carefully stands. her headache pounds a little more forcefully but it’s far from the worst she’s ever had. a little water and she’ll be grand.

speaking of water.

beau adjusts her pants back into place, wipes wet hands absently on her shirt as she leaves the washroom, steps out into the hall. it’s early still and the chateau is still. quiet. faint music and conversation lifts up to jester’s level from the one below and beau follows it like she’s caught.

by the time she has come down the stairs, she knows it’s marion’s room, and knows the voices are hers and jester’s. she thinks about turning away but the sun has started to lift and she knows jester hasn’t started to pack. how she had managed to scatter her things literally everywhere across the room beau can’t begin to understand. she’ll peek in, remind jester about it, head down for an early run on the beach maybe. and breakfast. the chateau does a damn good breakfast.

‘—don’t know what to do about it.’ jester, beau’s mind supplies. distressed.

‘what do you want to do about it?’ marion. decidedly not at all distressed. amused?

‘i don’t know,’ jester wails. ‘why can’t this be easy?’

‘the worthwhile things in life rarely are, little sapphire.’

beau grins. jester will hate being told that. her grin widens when she hears jester grumble a reluctant agreement; in her mind’s eye she can see her clearly, nose crinkled, grumpy face on, strewn over one of her mother’s fainting couches maybe.

‘can’t you just tell me what to do?’ jester wheedles. ‘you know everything!’

‘about sex, perhaps. about love? not as much as i would like.’ the room is quiet for a moment, and beau thinks her suddenly racing heart will give her away. love? they’re talking about love? ‘matters of the heart always seem simple from the outside. when you’re the one tangled in it, it seems impossible, doesn’t it?’

jester makes a pitiful sound of agreement.

beau nearly does too.

‘well, what do you think then? even if you’re on the outside?’

‘i think... that you could do far worse.’

‘mama.’

‘what do you want me to say, jester?’

‘the truth!’

‘the truth?’ marion asks in an arch tone, and oh beau is less familiar with her but jester is not so removed from her mother that she can’t imagine it. the cool look, the raised brows, the pursed lips as the expression coalesces into one simple question—are you sure?

‘please, mama.’

‘very well. i don’t think you would have come to me all in a flutter if you weren’t feeling something. and you obviously hold her in high regard, or you wouldn’t have spent all of the last two days talking about her.’

‘i didnt—not all,’ jester denies, weakly.

‘you spoke of her a lot, my darling,’ marion tells her gently. a moment passes, then, ‘i think you enjoy her attention. i think you care for her very much. and i think you know how she cares for you. didn’t you tell me you thought she was going to kiss you?’

‘you should have seen the way she smiled,’ jester whispers. ‘beau was—‘

the mention of her name breaks the spell beau was held by, frozen in place listening to the conversation play out. guilt mingles hot with hope and fear, churning in her gut, but she manages to step back softly, and again until she reaches the stairs. she takes the next flight quietly before all but sprinting down the rest, flying out the door.

a run. a run along the beach. she’ll forget all about this and when she comes back to breakfast, she’ll be ready. she won’t encroach on jester, she won’t upset her with what she had hoped had been subtle. she’ll be better about it.

the sand crunches beneath her boots, the tide washing it harder underfoot than the soft white dunes, and beau runs.

[modernliterature]

i wanted to post about this last night but it was so late & i was too sleepy to say anything coherent (no promises that this will be actually coherent)

but i wanted to clarify that the reason i was so happy about jester taking the flask wasnt because i thought it was a Good Idea, or that it would somehow cure notts alcoholism or in fact fix it in any way. but it was, finally, SOMEONE doing SOMETHING. 

jester has been the only one so far to treat notts alcoholism as anything but a joke. shes been quietly worried over it for some time, but the past couple episodes you can see her concern growing as nott doubles down on the drinking and the alcohol induced recklessness. i mean, nott REALLY could have gotten ALL OF THEM killed this week with that fireball trap. 

so jester sees the drinking is going too far. she knows something needs to be done but we know shes not going to confront anyone about a problem like this and risk them getting mad at her, not liking her anymore. the other party members that are more willing to have these Hard Talks arent stepping up. and its not like jester has any experience dealing with addiction. so she tries to fix it the only way she knows how, which makes sense from her perspective, which is to take the problem away. 

once again, not a smart/good way to deal with it, but you can see why she did it, and that it came from a place of compassion and a genuine desire to help. and, to be fair, jester just recently saw nott doing fairly well without drinking at all! jester knows she can be fine without it, shes witnessed it, why would it be any different this time?

(the difference being, obviously, that last time nott quit of her own free will and this time the choice was robbed from her) 

which also brings me to caleb? of anyone he has the least excuse for letting this go on and continuing to enable nott, right? i mean it makes sense in the beginning. the whole time shes been clearly using it to cope with her anxiety and the two of them being constantly on the run didnt facilitate anything besides that short term solution. it wasnt a great situation but it made sense. 

but now theyve got a support system, theyve got safety in numbers, theyve had multiple instances of downtime where the subject could have been brought up. but caleb, like everyone else, ignores it as an actual problem. he even encourages her to drink at times. whats his deal? 

i genuinely dont understand what his plan is with making a point to go buy her liquor (and attempting to buy LOTS of liquor) and then.... keeping it from her? it would make sense if the idea was to have some to tide her over until they get to a safe stopping point where they could address the issue properly, or use what he bought to try and wean her off of it, just in general a temporary solution until they are maybe back at the xhorhaus or something and can dedicate the appropriate time and attention to this. but he just? bought it and didnt tell anyone? whats the plan caleb? 

same with fjord! while im here im gonna call his bullshit too! what was the point of buying the whiskey in front of her in order to just, make a point to not let her have it? what purpose does that serve? what could that possibly do but make the problem worse? ik he and nott have a bit of an antagonistic relationship atm but damn fjord that is very wis 7 of you

this is getting off track but my main point is that this has been a long standing issue that the whole party has been turning a blind eye to for a long time. even now, with jester finally doing something to draw their attention to it, they were still fairly dismissive of notts freakout when the flask turned up missing. the whole party needs to step up their game in supporting her! which includes tough love where necessary! 

i think its a step in the right direction that jester has finally done SOMETHING about it, even if its not really the right way to deal with it. this could be a great jumping off point for them to actually start working on this to make a positive impact in the future, given that they finally start taking it seriously. 

i just worry about the eventual fallout when nott inevitably learns it was jester that stole the flask....

[the-benevolent-beast]

((**AHH Thank you ;w;; Im glad you like my blog- its encouraging! And its alright, I can do them all! however, the only drawable reaction I could think of and could do was for LJ, so apologies for that ;w;- and that they’re just sketches and not something better,,)) ((**Also im assuming by ‘experienced Love’ you mean in a romantic sense- if not, my apologies!! gonna exclude Smile and Seedie from this one tho- and the Shadow Gents, yet to join)) (( @a-nice-jester )) - LJ A gross chortle and small sinister snickers sounded before he gave a small inhale passed sharp teeth- and immediately gave a deadpanned expression. “Nope.” He tapped his chin after a moment however, seeming to grimace ever so slightly at the thought, “L o v e -” the word came off rather poisonous from his striped tongue, but he continued “I highly doubt anything like that...” His odd tongue peeked out the side of his mouth between his teeth as he seemed uncomfortable about the thought, “I guess a different kind though, way back when..” he spoke lowly, mainly to himself in a hushed tone. He seemed to think about it, though the tall bastard didnt seem all too fond of whatever was crossing his mind. Back to the brighter days, though those days were rather short lived, if he had to say so himself. Bright before being locked in a dark, small space that is. - Jeffery For a second he seemed bemused, but looked off to the side and to the ground, his already crossed arms readjusting themselves in thought. He shrugged, “Nah,” and thats what he seemed content with for an answer, though something about his eyes behind that messy front of dark hair seemed to allude to something more. If he could blink, he would have by now, but all he could do was a half-lidded, tired look as he avoided any possible eye contact. Was he hiding something? Frankly it was hard to tell otherwise outside of body language, as due to his ‘accident’, he didnt really have much color to his face (or body) anymore- outside of the charred lids and dark bags of exhaustion that is. His eyes flickered for a moment, as if a thought of past events crossed his mind for just a moment, but he looked away shortly after. “...Nah.” Truth? We may never know. - EJ The masked entity seemed idle for a moment, before he gave a simple, calm shrug in response. He wasn’t much for talking, but his odd, whip like tail curled faintly. For once, he spoke; “Before this whole mess- I thought, perhaps, I might have? There was someone on campus who made me feel odd, and warm, so possibly? but uh..” he hesitated, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket, “It wouldn’t have lasted, or even had a chance to start,” was what he finished with, letting you assume the worst- maybe that worst being the whole sacrificed mess he went through. - Will Already, a light dusting of color rose on his barely freckled cheeks- though barely noticeable behind his ridiculous unique mask of choice. “U,,um,” he rose a hand to the back of his neck as he thought about it, looking elsewhere and everywhere with his bright, pale blue eyes as his mind wandered on the subject. In fairness, he had never really bothered looking for a girlfriend before, never in high school or earlier- as he never really had any friends to begin with (not even as a smol bby child) and it almost seemed as if he was avoided, or forgotten pretty easily, by his peers. And trying to “catch” one now, in such a place as the UR? and the chaotic/pressured place that is the Institute it seemed like an impossible feat- that maybe that door had closed for him? He let off a small sigh, frowning slightly as just a smidge of more color took root behind the white of his carved mask as if guilty of something as a small thought, maybe even a small hope, crossed his mind. When he remembered what he had been asked, and that he hadn’t really given a proper response, he looked elsewhere and crossed his arms, trying to play it cool, “U-uh, well- I’m not.. sure.. Honestly...” he admitted, though hesitant, as if not telling the whole truth. Maybe someone was on his mind? Though, maybe doubts and other matters get in his way about the subject.. - Jade The pale furred beast folded her ears back alittle, a very pale purple-ish tint coming to her cheeks. Maybe it was just your eyes, but something about the sharply heart shaped hole at the center of her fluffy chest took notice- a slight crack? or maybe it was stray fur, though it seemed unlikely-  Jade straightened her back suddenly, her tail end curling, “I guess having a crush or two on someone or another would count, even slightly, right?” her long arms crossed each other as she sighed, “Then.. maybe..?” the subject seemed to make her seize up alittle, the fur of her chest seemed just slightly fluffier after the fact; the question at hand made her think of certain occurrences of the past and her relative playfulness and willingness to be affectionate despite how odd that may come off to most, especially in the UR. Jade was an affectionate type, though usually on platonic stances only; she was sort of like a dog in that way, if she trusted someone she was willing to befriend, such as Jeffery (and Ben, and even Penny) so long ago, or Will more recently, she wouldn’t hesitate to do the smaller things like meaningful pats on the shoulder/head, or ruffles through hair if possible for the boys, or even hugs or cute little nuzzles if the opportunity arose; but maybe that gave the wrong idea sometimes. And really, she couldn't help but melt when given a good ol’ scratch behind the ear or under the chin by someone willing to return the affection- sometimes such rewards made her vulnerable.. and think about things. She blinked her bright, golden hued eyes, frowning slightly as the pale purple-ish grey color seemed to deepen just slightly, “..Maybe..” was her final answer, though the slightest hint of questioning slipped out on her tongue, perhaps geared more towards herself.

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 3 (Cont.)

“aight fellas im here for the fortnite session where we droppin boys”

Hibiki shows up, ready to participate in this four player game of sociological tension.

“hope hibiki’s doing okay. im worried about her. ryoko, stop resting your arm on my head.”

“ryoko does as ryoko pleases baby”

Vibrates angstily.

“im missing my wife for this guys please lets just do this”

“wish i had a wife too instead of this vase filled with fucking ashes” SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORP

The squad analyzes the statistics of all Noise outbreaks over the last month to see if there’s a pattern somewhere. Somehow, Hibiki is regarded as an authority on this, despite being just a normal girl.

This is not the face of someone who has a degree in Noisology, let alone even listened to a Noisia album.

“looking photogenic while this girl describes how these horrible, lovecraftian entities butcher entire populations will look great on my acting resume”

Strained sounds of holding back laughter at this absolute clownery.

*coughs quietly*

Exposition goes on about the UN acknowledging the existence of Noise, but them existing for far longer, existing in myths as demons and monsters of long ago. This makes little sense, but fuck it, just roll with it. They also say the Noise is rare, but this being Symphogear, the Noise will be here forever, until the end of time.

“its like the noise are a metaphor........................”

Hibiki, looking dead inside as the average overnight studying student would, muses whether someone is behind the noise. She also asks if you can hear the sound of one hand clapping.

Tsubasa makes a very relevant observation that the school is smack dab at the center of all these outbreaks. In retrospect, you probably should have asked her first. She points out it may be because someone wants their get their hands on the almost complete relic hidden away in the 2nd Division: Durandal. Why anyone wants an old ass french sword is beyond me.

“yeah i can do exposition too, fuck you”

Finished relics are extremely rare and as a result extremely powerful. Incomplete ones are pretty powerful, but need to be rebuilt a bit.

“i discovered all this, conveniently, as the only person left to do so! totally not suspicious at all.”

“anime plot hurting brain. bullshit levels make think no good.”

“wish i got hired for a macross anime instead, they get to go to space”

“being meguca is suf- wait, im confusing my roles”

The exposition goes on to note that America wants the relic. This is one of the few shows that depicts America in a very serious and antagonistic light. America never cooperates in any useful way except once.

“it should would suck if someone was sending us them noise monster all on purpose-like”

“yeah............! suuuuuure would suck.... mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmm...”

Tsubasa and Ogawa quietly plan idol ruminations. This animation used to be far, far worse.

This is the moment where Tsubasa becomes sword-kin. From here on out, she will always refer to herself as a sword. This is law. Literally every single season has this same deal. She believes she is a sword. I know it’s not literal, but I like pretending it is.

Succ Intensifies

“gonna get her number later after the season is over, damn”

Hibiki muses on the nature of war.

“why we gotta fight”

“cause yall suck”

Ryoko then says some very not nice things that we’re just going to walk right around because Ryoko is a little bit of a weirdo and should probably keep her flirting to the short haired lady working on the bridge.

“i will call the cops, lady”

Hibiki starts her next day at school as she spots Tsubasa during her choir class.

“forget my nintendo switch with the latest smash bros game in the classroom goddamnit”

“hibiki please tone down the gay for five seconds while we try to get through this dumb singing class in one piece”

“i smell a homewrecker”

“THE GAY CAN NEVER BE TONED DOWN, IT CAN ONLY BE TONED”

Hibiki is then fed by multiple classmates for this statement.

The Anime Janai crew is fond of Hibiki, much like a group of Lords being fond of the royal court jester. Hibiki clowns it up by working on a report she procrastinated until the very last minute. “Your life sure is an anime!”, one of them says. Hibiki then says, “I wish!”. They smile in unison at the irony.

Look at how they mock the threads of reality. Absolute monsters.

Hibiki nails the report at the skin of her teeth, Miku’s gonna get ready for the meteor shower, everyone’s real fucking happy, the evening looks peaceful, all is well.

“i cant wait to do all these fun things we promised several times over!”

Unfortunately, the worst case scenario happens.

Her tiddies start ringing.

“no.... fuck.... my tiddies... they’re ringing...”

She knows now she cannot go.

In retrospect, she probably could’ve blown them off. I mean, what are they gonna do? Fire her? She’s practically irreplaceable. Alas, her conscience is too strong. The ringing from her tiddies too loud to ignore.

“okay im back for the thing you promised we’d do repeatedly that we planned for a good amount of weeks now”

“...”

“i got fucking ghosted didnt i”

“cannot fucking believe i got ditched on my hot date with hibiki. bet its because her tiddies rang, isnt it. always her and her... GODDAMN tiddies ringing ALL THE TIME. LET ME BE WITH HER... god...”

“bae. im sorry. the tiddies rang. i have no choice.”

Miku tries to keep it together. Neither of them are happy about this state of affairs, and rightfully so, because it’s fucking stupid. Hell, it would have made more sense of Miku knew but still got jealous anyway, because she feels her job is establishing too much distance! And they talk those problems out instead of issues that only arise if everyone’s a goddamn moron about communication!

“but thats the point of the pl-”

NO! IT’S NOT CLEVER! IT’S FRUSTRATING! THERE ARE CLEVER WAYS TO SHOW A LACK OF COMMUNICATION BESIDES A CHAIN OF OBSTACLES TOO STUPID TO EXIST!

Miku takes the whole thing with grace even though I’m absolutely certain she threw her phone at the wall in raw, gay frustration.

Hibiki, understandably, is pretty fucking pissed.

“im gay. im angry, and im gonna fuck yall up for RUINING MY DATE AFTER HAVING FINISHED MY DAMN REPORT”

Hibiki fights the Noise. She’s gotten slightly better at fighting, but for now she’s still sorta trash at it. A grape themed Noise throws bombs and crushed her under rocks from a ceiling.

You’re a student. You’re the lone survivor of a concert that you got flak about for years. You go to an institution for singing with your best friend and basically get shoved into a life of crime fighting unwittingly. Your only teammate hates you and tried to kill you. You don’t get to hang out with your best friend anymore. Your teachers hate you. And you’re losing against the abominations that may have potentially warped your life negatively, forever.

This is probably the pivotal moment where Hibiki fucking snaps and decides she ain’t taking shit anymore. She’s not at her strongest yet, but mentally? She has decided to tell the world to go fuck itself.

“MY WIFE THINKS IM CHEAAAAAATING, MY TEAMMATE THINKS I SUUUUUUUUUCK, AND I’M SICK AND TIRED OF IT”

My, Hibiki, what big fangs you have. All the more to grit your teeth and beat the shit out of things with, I assure you.

Needless to say, even without having the skill, she’s starting to understand and get more comfortable with the full extent of the power her suit provides her.

She’s gotten so mad that even the illustrators are afraid of her.

To note: this isn’t just anime drama silhouette stylization. She is actually physically turning into a red eyed shadow. You’ll know why later down the road.

“YOU WANNA FUCKIN FIGHT ME NOW TSUBASA? HUH? HUH? YOU WANNA FUCKIN’ FIGHT ME?!”

Needless to say, her rampage goes on for a while.

She manages to dispatch all the Noise except for the Grape themed one. Up in the hole it made, she sees the meteor fall from the sky...

Wait, look closer. Is it a bird?

A plane?!

No, it’s...!

“i aint gonna tell her i just did a wish on her”

Sword!

“why the fuck does SHE get jetpacks?!”

Hibiki randomly yells out she wants to protect things too, for absolutely no real reason. Who would even break the ice with that. Hibiki, please.

They sorta stare each other down in a field awkwardly, like a bad high school reunion. But, a mysterious voice breaks out of literally fucking nowhere.

“didnt know they legalized gay marriage in japan already, otherwise id be showing up to this joke of a marriage sooner, you absolute buffoons”

“did this bitch just insinuate id waste my time getting married to this complete idiot, let alone even contemplate getting married in a public park as opposed to having a customized karaoke based marriage in the FUCKING HILTON?!”

“hey time out dont say that shit im already married and my wife already feels enough like im cheating so please keep those comments to yourself okay please���

“eat my ass, nerds. id tell you to come to the park in 15 minutes for an ass kicking...

but we’re already here, now aren’t we?”

[chaostwofold]

1-41 on the asks? Also gn

1. if you were to have Hanahaki disease, what flowers would you cough up?

Morning glories!! not only are they already my favorite flower, theyre extremely toxic and mean unconditional love! i have a tendency to fall for the wrong people and not realize until after,, BUT thats only half and half!! some people i loved unconditionally and contine to love them and others set me back in the recovery process,,

2. if someone were to catch Hanahaki disease for you, what flowers would they cough up?

Begonias id assume? not only are hanahaki flowers supposed to represent your feelings, they should also represent the person. begonias are known for misfortune, dark/unpleasant thoughts, and caution to new situations. on the flip side, its harmonious communications, understanding, and gratitude.

3. if you were any historic trope, what would you be? (i.e., the knight, the town baker, the witch of the forest, etd.)

hm. well, what about the urchin whos actually a prince? someone who originates from grand places, a great misfortune turns them into something undesirable and possibly bitter, and then when theyre brought back to the light of stability they provide for those who are in the same situation as he was

4. tell us about your ideal battle outfit

im long range magic tactics and healing always bc im too afraid of conflict :pensive: but the closest thing would probably be something flexible but strong, in black and the more sensitive areas like the neck and thighs covered more carefully (read: shadowhunter gear)

5. what would you be a god/goddess of and what would people sacrifice to you?

change on an emotional and mental plane. they would sacrifice those who refuse to change for the better. i determine what is better, and if they choose the wrong person to sacrifice they would pay depending on why they attempted to sacrifice someone who didnt deserve it.

6. name five iconic quotes that make you feel things.

“there is a difference between wisdom and intelligence... a person may have one without the other.” is an all time favorite from my favorite book The Soulforge by Margret Weis!!!!!!!

“plant your trees and watch them grow.” OUGH

 “There is a thin semantic line separating the weird and the beautiful. and that line is covered in jellyfish.” NIGHTVALE

“Ive been good sir / so very very good for what? / and ive given you / every single thing ive got / its feeling strange man / this whole arrangement / is gonna end with / me totally deranged” From Disobedient, from su:tm!!! it slaps man

“ What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me? / What are you wondering? What do you know? / Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me?” Ah. billie eilish ily

7. scythe, battle axe, broad sword, spear or trident?

Scythe! the weapon of fate and peace,, it is used to reap the souls of those deemed to die and its used for harvesting crops!! the end of all thngs, its a graceful and symbolical weapon.

8. what combination of natural scents would you use as perfume?

Vaniila, star anise, and clary sage

9. ancient scrolls or leather-bound books?

leather bound books!!

10. describe yourself as if you were a storm.

a cyclone, probably. something threatening on the outside but extremely calm on the inside.

11. what type of flower (other than a rose) would you offer someone you were trying to court?

amaryllis, which is splendid beauty and worth beyond beauty

12. honey in milk or cinnamon in tea?

cinnamon in tea!!!

13. cabin in the woods, apartment in the city or mansion in the suburbs?

apt in the city

14. curtains of beads or lace?

bead curtains!!! retro AND can be like “hoohoo welcome to my brewery pick your literal poison im a witch”

15. vocal or instrumental music?

yall know i could never pick,, music is too much of an intimate thing too be taken lightly (whch is one of the reasons i have a burning hatred for jokey nursery rhymes like baby shark)

16. describe your ideal fantasy outfit

SOBS okay so. ough it depends man. i rlly like the idea of like. ponchos and shawls n stuff,,, id prolly go for a witch in the woods ngl (the prince REPRESENTS me the best but. witch of the dark woods is my aesthetic) so prolly like a heavy green shawl over a black shirt and jeans and combat boots or smth,,, i WOULD have a flower crown of poisonous flowers, yes

Changeling or shapeshifter definitely!! to be able to constantly change form in super mecore

18. hard candy, fruit preserves or spice cake?

fruit preserves

19. show us an a picture of your ideal crown.

you all knew it was gonna happen ( its a mountain laurel!! poisonous. of course)

20. tying your hair up using ribbon, yay or nay?

my hair is WAY too short for that but i used to do it when i had longer hair and its a definite yay

21. an evening in the forest with elves, a night in the caves with vampires or a morning in the garden with fae?

an evening in the forest with elves or a morning in the garden with fae!! i cant decide man,,, if it had been a night in a victorian castle w vamps i wouldve been tied w that too but caves are a dwarven thing

22. tell us, in detail, about a curse a witch would put on you.

hm. maybe like. a true self thing? where im forced to say what i mean, i cant say sorry for things im not sorry for, i have to say when things make me uncomfy, i just become less timid (the witch who cursed me got pissed off bc i said sorry too much and didnt answer questions properly)

23. talking with sylphs or singing with nymphs?

talking with sylphs prolly??? i dunno man ive always loved sylphs ngl

24. mint, rosemary, basil or sage?

def mint

25. favorite childhood story? (doesn’t have to be a fairy tale)

what childhood lmao (honestly?? i loved reading the grim fairytales just over and over)

26. tell us about an experience you’ve had that seemed unreal or supernatural. (doesn’t have to be scary)

uhhh one time i was accused of witchcraft bc i was “guessing” peoples fav colours at a christian summer camp and our supervisors asked me to stop bc it was freaking them out bc im not christian (i had them close their eyes, think of their colour, and i would see it bc id close my eyes) OH also one time luke spoiled some pl stuff bc he was thinking abt the spoiler too loudly

27. would you rather have poison or healing ointment in your traveling pack?

oh healing def!! i already know a bunch of native poisonous plants so itll b fine

28. tell us three sayings that you live by.

only two chances for everyone, and then i cut them off entirely

cringe culture is dead. the only cringy people are assholes

hurt luke youre dead

29. vials or mason jars?

no. no. you CANNOT make me pick. its illegal

30. describe your ideal masquerade ball outfit (mask included).

uh! moss green, its a onepiece thats baggy and tied with a golden decorative rope at the waist and tightened at the ankles!! its loose at the sleeves and the shoulders are showing whereas the neck is turtled!! there are designs showing black mambas and lilies of the valley (poisonous...). the mask is black and covers my right eye, with subtle smooth scales on it.

31. splashing around in a river with mermaids or flying through the sky with harpies?

BOTH are p mean uh. i said sylphs earlier so ig ill go mermaids??? plus im afraid of heights

32. what would you end up in the dungeon for?

as the royal magician/wizard/witch/alchemist/magic jester? calling the royal family out on their bullshit

33. if you were a fairy, what color would your wings be?

they would be black owls wings!!! (if you meant pixies, like tinkerbell, you shouldve said pixies fam :pensive:)

34. if you could have any magical item, what would it be?

deaths cloak or a truth charm to get people to tell me, you guessed it, the truth

35. what song would the bards sing about you when you passed by?

a song about grim ends ad new beginnings.

36. would you rather be a pirate or a king/queen?

royalty! so i can fuck shit up from the inside

37. would you spend more time in the field of flowers, the tavern, the docks or the marketplace?

field of flowers or marketplace!! seeing the things people create and natural beauty and solitude are both wonderful

38. would you have a painting of yourself?

a modest one with a very dark palette, with my eyes painted a gleaming golden.

39. what skill are you famous for?

i talk rlly fast

40. if you could live any fairy tale, which one would you?

im not sure,, 

41. stained glass windows or fairy lights?

FAIRYLIGHTSFAIRYLIGHTSFAIRYLIGHTS

[beanjuice-duh]

Bury Me In Stardust

Summary: @midnigtartist and I and probably the rest of the fandom are hurting sooo take this y’all

Life is such a delicate dance. A pace set in motion by the smallest things, a simple turn could mean the beginning of a new piece or the end of the song all together. That was the absolute beauty of life; the simplicity that nothing was certain and that nothing should ever be taken for granted. Because love was a dance without reason, it could go for as long or as short and it was left to the odds to decide what happened next.

What a beautiful, wonderful, careless, hideously painful thing life was. For the sheer moment the music stopped, the dancing halted, then life would end. And in it's place was the searing complacently woeful silenced called … Death.

It was a slow consumer, Death relished in the soft ease taking over. Like watching a solar eclipse there was no stopping this massive shadow as it crept over Mollymauk’s barely conscious body. He could see the backlight of the sky above against the outline of his undertaker. His executioner, looking down at him like an umbrella as the snow flurries whirled past him.

Stars mirrored life effortlessly. At least to Molly’s knowledge they did. Stars began life in an explosion, a grand entrance into the cosmos and he like to think he did. In his own way, he made his entrance, a star thousands of light years away from anything else like him. One small light, breaking into the dark lonesome world around him.

With every passing moment he met others like him, for brief moments he was caught into their spin before rocketing away to the next beckon of interest. When life offered so many colors, so many variations of beauty, all bright and full of whimsy, how could he attach himself to only one? Light was fleeting, and Molly was chasing it with the fever of a shooting star whose days aglow were numbered.

Then came the change. The moment the universe forced him to be...stagnant. He found himself caught in the pull, in the orbits of new faces. All of which were radically and fantastically different from each other and more so his. Each a color vibrant and unique, a spectrum of people that were like him but so much more.

He remembered these days with an eternal fondness in his chest. He thought after his first year of, life his eyes would simply stop lingering on the romanticized wonder of all things “new” but here he was. Relishing in this new tapestry of a sky. No longer a sole star racing past other points of light. He was part of something, a constellation, part of a larger picture, a more important harmony.

“Ah bloody hell…” he groaned softly, his hands instinctively going to his finishing wound but felt nothing. No pain, no dampness of fresh blood. He looked down and saw his normal clothes, untattered and cleanly pressed against his skin like a fresh wash. Slowly, the lavender tiefling sat up and slowly examined himself over and over again. What happened?

Immediately the last memory of being stabbed while laying on the cold ground, the sinking pain in his gut before everything dulled. He flinched, his eyes casted down as he saw...what looked like himself. But the differences were so striking Molly almost didn’t recognize him.

His spectral eyes scanned his mortal body over, the wounds, the thick, blotches of crimson that stained his open blouse. His face frozen in his last moments, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and open, staring off into nothing. “God I look terrible” Molly forced a chuckle out of him. The sound was meant to be light and careless but broke through his lips more like a pained gasp.

This was truly it, the end of the line. Molly sat down on the ground beside his forgotten mortal body, staring at the flurries that had collected around him. He smiled briefly remembering the magic of seeing snow. Now through the gaze of his afterlife, the snow seemed to do nothing to move him. There was no magic, no chill of excitement, the luster that he had ingrained in himself had also died the moment he did.

Trapped in what felt like a forever in his mind, soft mumbling broke his trance. He looked over and saw by this time a pair of ratty, bandaged Goblin hands were combing through his hair. They fumbled turning soft curls into messily knotted braids, with a few wild flowers and tall weeds between a few strands. “Nott…” Molly felt the corners of his mouth turn up a bit. “What in gods name are you doing?”

Of course she doesn’t hear him. She works with what looks like the nimble, practiced hands of someone who uses them often but the inexperience of doing delicate deeds such as this. Molly watches on in silence before shaking his head a bit and simply sighs. “If I had known I’d get this treatment perhaps I would have died weeks ago…” Perhaps ...perhaps he began to think, he should have.

“Nott, we...uh...we’re moving out soon so…” the voice of a grating human woman was replaced with a softness as though she was speaking to someone who was resting rather than deceased. “What...are you doing?”

Molly looked up at Beau with a smirk, “please stop her, she’s turning my head into a flowerbed.” He teased and naturally received no answer. His smile dropped a little as it began to sank in. He was on the other side of life now, watching with absolute, alien envy of them all.

“I was just thinking...if Jester were her she’d probably want to make him look pretty or something...and if-if Yasha was here she might have brought him flowers...They’re not here to say goodbye...but they should be here.” Nott mumbled a little, as the realization their once large group was nothing more than three, beaten, downtrodden wanderers.

Beau’s face twitched, her eyes began to blink repeatedly as she batted back tears. “Ah...fuck…” she pressed the heel of her palm against her eye roughly, pressing down like a dam against the small streams that gathered. “If...Fjord was here he’d have some good words to say…” They went silent, if their party was fully here perhaps...perhaps one of them wouldn’t be dead.

“You know...you could say something, you have been practicing and all…”

Molly shook his head, “Oh gods no, I’m already dead don’t kill me any further.”

Her face shook a bit, “what’s there to say? I was right there...and I couldn’t do...I should have…” She paused a minute, “we lost a lot before we started this journey, things we could get back or replace in time and hard work...this...Molly, is not one of them.”

Shit...Mollymauk slowly lowered his head to his still, deceased form. That was the nicest thing that trash human ever said to him, he mused to himself.

“—should we bury him?”

“Oh god please don’t my fucking robe—“

“Nah...get dirt on his fancy digs? Molly would die in the afterlife too” Beau responded to Nott much to Mollymauk’s relief. “Let’s uh...lets wrap him up, lets...do him right.”

Beau slowly without looking him in the eye, picked Molly up and began to walk. They didn’t get far into the thicket, but found a rather lovely tree with flowers growing a long the roots. While she worked in wrapping him up in a rather gaudy tapestry of gold and silver, Nott spent a few seconds with her dagger, carving the letters, M.T, into the trunk.

“...See ya around...you fucking…” her voice broke clearly, Molly watched a pained smile across her face as Beau’s eyes welled with tears. Even though he knew she couldn’t, he felt her looking at him, at his eyes as she muttered. “You asshole…”

“Right back at you...wonderfully terrible trash woman.” He held up a hand, as Nott and Beau lingered for only a moment before turning and walking away. He watched them with a longing to follow but knew...knew that whatever was coming for him would come.

He leaned up against the tree beside the carefully wrapped, humanoid figure that was now him. “Now that I’m forced to look at this forever, that is a god awful design”

Molly closed his eyes, waiting for something to bring him to where he was suppose to be. He couldn’t stay in this in between watching life around him for eternity. That would have been a hell...or perhaps this was it and he was repaying for something he had done. Had he done anything worth repenting? He mulled over his moral choices.

Nothing he deemed...totally deplorable.

The soft crunch of feet apparching forced him awake. He immediately went to grab his weapon and realized...he had none. He shook his head, it was going to take a while to get out of the habit of being...well...alive. He looked at the figure approaching, eyes tensed, hands nervously rubbing over each other, “Caleb—“

“Molly…” He seemed to almost react as though he heard him, Molly allowed himself a small bit of hope perhaps the strange, uniquely wonderful wizard could. Most likely not, but still. Slowly the red haired human man, walked around to the other side of Molly’s wrapped corpse and gingerly began to unwrap just his face.

Eyes still blazed open and wide.

“Hasn’t anyone told you, staring is rude…” Mollymauk kept his own gaze away. He didnt have the stomach to star at himself much longer.

“I was not prepared to lose you today…” Caleb muttered…”You should know I was prepared to leave...ya...that night before when I was on watch alone...I really thought about leaving...Because I had no place here, with them, with you.” He motioned with his hand, “I am not strong enough to do anything but hid, my whole purpose has nothing to do with any of you but...I couldn’t do it.” Caleb slowly brought his knees to his chest.

“Oh Caleb, enough of that now it's…” He reached with his phantom hand and phased right through Caleb’s cheek. Molly froze in mystified horror.

Caleb roughly rubbed his face, pulling at the growing roots of his facial hair. “But how could I leave all of you...Beau, Nott...you...I don't belong here, especially with you, a fucking rainbow...ja but I guess I have trouble letting go…”

Molly turned his head and watched as Caleb began to rummage through his pockets, muttering frantically under his breath. He watched with somber interest as gently Caleb moved his hands over Molly’s opened eyes and closed them once more. He placed two dull copper pieces over each eye. “We’ll talk about this later…” Caleb cracked a smile, a small lopsided grin before leaning in. His lips softly pressed against the cold flesh of Mollymauk’s chilled lavender forehead. “Mr. Mollymauk.”

A delicate, almost thin layer of magical essence coated Molly as Caleb gingerly wrapped him up again. Molly felt the warmth of the magic over his skin and broke into a small cry. “Later then...Mr. Caleb” He smirked, head resting on the tree.

For all the while, he chased life, knowing that he was hurling towards death. A pull he knew, whether he liked it or not he was on borrowed time, a borrowed body...a borrowed life and soon it would be time. He thought he had grown to accept it, like stars once blinking balls of light and fury also came to their inevitable ends. Their light still stained the skies for many years to come.

Mollymauk had seen his life such as that, a star. Who once blown out, his life and light would remain for a few more years after him.

But he was not at peace with this. He wasn’t chasing life and waiting for death. He had been running from death. Desperate to prove he deserved to be alive because he lived so extreme in every moment. His downfall no doubt. He deserved this body, this life, this chance...he deserved more than nothing.

Molly curled into himself, pressing his head to the top of his knees as tearless sobs broke through his rib cage. He didnt want this. He refused, he wanted to live, he wanted more moments in the sun. More cold nights around a fire, he wanted the pains of fight and the ecstasy of love of someone he loved in return.

“I suppose we’ll have to try again, Molly” A woman’s melodic voice whispered to him. Molly turned his head a bit and stared at the faint, pale glow of a beautiful elven woman who was a few feet away from him. He...knew this aura...he had felt her before in his darkest hours. “Come...lets ...find you a way out before he does.”

Molly slowly rose to his feet, he took one glance back at his body and then at the elf woman.

His soul departed, unsure to where or what. But he followed the woman to whatever she had planned for him.

Slow did a star form beside the full moon that night.

As the moonweaver walked her son to his new, great beginning.