#i don’t really write any sad things that i haven’t personally been though

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

babe wake up- new @thyme-in-a-bubble lore just dropped

https://www.tumblr.com/thyme-in-a-bubble/727560417645330432/how-do-you-cut-your-hair-i-have-2ab-hair-and

lore?!?? omg you don’t wanna know about my lore, it’s too depressing.

[springgirlshowers]

Cool About It

Summary: You’re face to face with your ex outside of a bar after three years of no contact, is there any point of talking to him?

Pairing: Joost x Reader

CW: smoking, cursing, arguing, poorly proofread, angst with a happy ending tho! ;P

WC: 1,935

A/N: i can’t write a summary for the life of me + wooooo feeling angsty tonight guys

When Joost left he told you he would be gone for a long time. You knew that of course.

He told you he would have to leave and travel constantly if he wanted his career to grow, which you were fine with. You wanted nothing more than to see it happen.

With school and working for yourself, you weren’t able to come along with Joost on his tour and to the festivals he was performing at. That was okay with you!

As long as you could still text and call and video chat with him you were fine. Of course, you absolutely missed him during it, but you could put up with the temporary long distance.

However Joost, felt the opposite apparently.

To be fair, you knew it was gonna be difficult being together yet so far apart.

Joost ended things with you, telling you he didn’t think your relationship with him would work constantly being gone. He'd also told you not to take it personally, and you had. Like an idiot.

You were heartbroken at first. Crying and pitying yourself, questioning why he did it. Even though he already gave you an answer.

Soon your sadness turned to anger, it never changed after that. You’ve been angry at him since he sent that text.

Joost <3: I don’t think this is working

It was a piss poor way of breaking up, the delivery of it was shitty enough, it being over text just made it worse.

The way he worded some of the things he said for his reasoning made it feel like you were a rock in his shoe, or an obstacle in his path to fame.

Yet, you were civil with him when he broke up with you, you never really shared your feelings and emotions on it with him afterwards. Why would you? You weren’t his girlfriend anymore. It wasn’t your place to.

Joost never knew how angry you were with him, you weren’t sure if unfollowing him really showed that. Maybe blocking him did, if he even ever noticed. You were just sick of seeing his face and posts pop up on your feed.

You haven’t seen him, haven’t talked to him since he broke up with you. It’s been three years and not a word has been said to each other.

You expected it to stay that way within the next years and so on. Until you saw him walking around with his friends in the same bar as you during a night in June.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" You said angrily.

"It's a Saturday night, this is a public bar, i'm not sure you can blame him for being here." Your friend shrugged disappointingly.

"Yeah I know." You sighed, "Just…why'd he have to come to this one tonight though? There's like ten other places he could've gone." You thought out loud, muttering. Your friend gave you a sympathetic frown as you rubbed your face.

“You know what, whatever, I’m gonna go for a smoke, you wanna come?” You nodded to the back door of the bar.

“No, I’ll watch over our drinks. You have fun.” She joked, you smiled and told her you’d be back in a few.

You were more than relieved to see that the back wall of the outside of the bar was empty. No other smokers or couples making out. You really needed a moment alone, seeing Joost made it feel like the air got knocked out of you.

You grabbed your pack of cigs, pulling one out and leaving it hanging from your mouth while you rummaged around your bag for a lighter.

You groaned out loud in frustration, desperately looking around the rest of your items for the one you usually had on hand.

While you were too busy searching, you didn’t pay any attention to the door that opened and closed behind you.

“Need a light?” A familiar deep voice asked, you turned to see him. Joost standing in front of you, lighter in hand and an awkward look on his face.

Now it felt like you couldn’t breathe at all.

Although it felt like a lifetime since you’d seen him, it hadn't been that long. It’s really just been a few years.

You just stared at him as he lit your cigarette without hesitation. You snapped back into this moment, inhaling and nodding as your way of saying “Thanks.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Joost said, pulling out a cigarette from his own pack.

“Yeah? A person can change a lot in three years.” The delivery of your sentence was venomous. It felt like every word was laced with poison to Joost. It made him pause for just a split second, giving him a small hint of how angry you still were at him.

He stayed silent, so did you. The only noise being the flick of his lighter and traffic in the distance.

The brick wall felt cold and jagged on your back, you debated if you should just stomp out your cig and just go back inside already.

“So how's everything been for you?” Joost broke the silence.

���Fine. Great.” You said stoically, Joost hummed in response.

You weren’t going to ask him the same question. You’d already knew how great he’d been doing. You’d saw all about it, read all about it, heard all about it, and honestly, you were sick of it.

He was getting where he wanted to be, good for him. You just wished you didn’t have to hear all about it.

"Number one in Germany, huh?" You said as exhaled smoke, a hint of anger still in your voice.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He let out a nervous laugh, “Insane isn’t it?” He itched at his arm.

“Yeah. Good for you though.” You spat, suddenly remembering how he made you feel like you were in his way to success.

“You don’t sound very excited about it.”

“Really?” You said sarcastically, flicking ash. Joost just nodded and cleared his throat, taking another inhale.

“I still have your shit in my closet. In a box.” You spoke out, keeping your eyes away from his.

He never came back for any of his shared clothing. You were kind enough to fold all his shirts that were hanging in your closet and put them in a cardboard box. Which you planned on giving him once he got back, but he never came back for it, never texted asking. So now they just sat in the back corner of your closet, collecting dust.

“Oh.” He said softly. Heart hurting a bit at the fact you never got rid of his stuff.

“Yeah. You’re free to take it back any day now. I’m tired of being reminded of it every time I need to pick out something to wear.” You sighed, you were halfway done with your smoke.

“I can understand if you’re upset.” He looked down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I know we ended things at a weird time.” His words made your blood boil.

We? We ended things? No. You. You were the one to end things. I didn’t want anything to end, you did, Joost. That’s what you wanted to spit at him. Instead you gave him a watered down version of it.

“You gave up on us, not me.” You said, exhaling, desperately trying to keep your cool.

“I don’t think I’d call it giving up…” He mumbled.

“No, you gave up. We hit a difficult patch and you were too much of an ass to push through it so you gave up.” Your mouth was moving faster than your brain, you didn’t mean to be so harsh or to argue. But you’ve been holding in all this anger for the past three years, now it was all spilling out.

Your chest was rising and falling in frustrated breaths, you blinked away the glaze that formed over your eyes. You waited for a response.

Joost opened his mouth, beginning to say something, but then closing it.

“Don’t even know why I bothered.” You muttered, letting out a sigh and shaking your head as you stomped out your cigarette.

Before you could start moving, Joost finally spoke.

“I thought I’d just continue to hurt you if I kept it going.” His voice was soft. It wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but you were sure what you were expecting anyways.

“Hurt me?” You asked, complete disbelief in your voice.

“I was gone for months. You’re telling me that you were fine with it? That it didn’t bother you?” He threw his cigarette down, grinding his shoe into the bud.

“It did bother me a little sometimes. I missed you the entire time. But I knew you were doing what you wanted to do for so long.” You took a step towards him, “I knew performing made you happy. I wasn’t gonna stop you from that. You were happy, I was happy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to keep back the tears that were going to form in your eyes.

It was the truth. You loved hearing the excitement in his voice when he’d call you just before shows, hearing the smile in his voice made one appear on your face as well.

“I cared for you so much. So much. I tried so hard to keep everything together and you just threw it all away. You made me feel like some kind of burden.” You could hear your voice begin to crack while your eyes watered, you didn’t want him to see you so emotional. You shoved past him, heading for the door.

“I never stopped caring about you. I need you to know that.” Joost spoke out, causing you to stop. He wanted to say a different word than “caring”, a stronger word, but he didn’t think he was brave enough for it. You turned around, eyes looking at the cement instead of at him.

“You were never a burden to me, liefje. Never.” Even though his voice was soft, his words were hitting you, your eyes finally met his. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have ended things like that. I shouldn’t have ended things at all.” He stepped closer to you, hand grazing your cheekbone. Eventually both hands coming up to gently cup your face.

“I was such an asshole. You didn’t deserve that, any of that.” Joost felt your jaw clench, your attempt to keep your lip from wobbling as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. His own eyes were beginning to water.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You heard the crack in his voice, and that was enough to cause you to break, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks.

And of course, the next thing he said was the final blow to cause your upcoming breakdown.

“I never stopped loving you.” His voice was barely a whisper, yet still loud enough for the both of you to hear it. You let out an embarrassingly loud sob and wrapped your arms around him, face shoved and sobbing into his chest.

Joost sweetly shushed you as he rubbed a hand up and down your back, lightly swaying the both of you as he let a few tears fall from his own eyes.

You really wanted to kiss him, you really did. You would’ve at this moment if you weren’t bawling and wheezing out tears. However, Joost was fine with it, as long as he knew he had you back, in his arms, he was fine.

Joost having you here with him, he was fine with that.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! Reader) Part 1

Synopsis: You approach Astarion at the Tiefling party and get rejected. Everyone else and Astarion knows he made a mistake, but you certainly don't.

Author Note: I LOVE Shadowheart- okay. Love her, but she is also my favorite hot girl rival in my fiction. No idea why. I just also love the idea of her being best friends with a Selunite by the end of her journey (or ship her hardcore with an Oathbreaker Paladin)

CW: Sad boi rejection hours, mentions of sex, mentions of Dead Dove.

Based off of a post by @golden-baby

(I also listened to Avril Lavigne’s Nobody’s Fool while writing this and it’s very good if you haven’t heard it)

(IDK Who this gif belongs too, but it is not mine)

You have always been the first person to throw yourself into a situation and help others- it was what had drawn you to being a Cleric of Selune in the first place. 

 You miss being a young cleric studying the life domain under the stars and the bright moon. You miss not feeling so terrified. 

 All this tadpole has brought you is anxiety and fear, you have a feeling it will be okay. You are here for a reason and you trust that Selune needs you to trust her. 

 Meeting Shadowheart had certainly confirmed that- she obviously was plummeting down the wrong path, but she has also flipped this thinking on you a few times. Only, you cannot understand following a Goddess as cruel as Shar. She has obviously brought serious damage to Shadowheart’s life and you are determined to support her- whether she gets away from Shar’s doctrine now or fifty years from now, you will be here to help her when the time comes.

 In spite of your differences, you actually go to the same spot and pray together- farther away from each other, but the sentiment is still there. Occasionally you drink together after a particularly weird or bad day. You find you both can talk about your religious beliefs and you are open to hers which in turn has begun to show her how to be open to your religious doctrine. It’s nice to have someone to talk about the bigger powers at play- even if that person opposes your Goddess so viciously. You don’t really care- you know followers of Shar are hurt people hurting people. They need love just as much as the next person. 

 Lae’zel has been a tougher nut to crack, but you have provided sympathy where you can and support her. You promised her that you would all head to the mountains and search for the Creché. If the cure is there- she will get it. That has made Lae’zel feel better a few times.

 Karlach just wants a good life and to talk about the joys of Life, Gale wants someone to talk to about magic and help finding magic items, and Wyll just wants to feel accepted and like he is still the mighty Blade of Frontiers.

 Then there is Astarion.

 You have been head over heels for the man since he knocked you to the ground and questioned you. You could probably stare at him forever if it wasn’t so Gods damn creepy. 

 You practically bend over backwards to help him- far more than you do for others, anyhow. He seems to like you and you have definitely thought about asking him to go on a date with you at some point. 

 But then you think about how not romantic having a tadpole in your head is and nix the idea. 

  You listen to him whenever he speaks to you, any books you find usually end up going to him. Gale is still pretty upset about the Necromancy of Thay. 

 Any new short swords, daggers, arrows, bows, crossbows, armor, potions, etc- you name it, you probably already gave it to him. You often think you may be far too obvious with your affections, but it’s the only thing you know kind of appeases him.

 Every decision you make he despises and makes a point of mocking you for. Karlach is often telling him to knock it off, but that usually just makes it worse so you just laugh it off even though it hurts. You just remind yourself that he lived as a slave for the last 200 years and you are the first to admit that your Goddess failed to save him. You don’t know why, but it is what it is. Maybe one day he will see that not all people are his ruthless master. 

You also let him drink from you every three or so days. If he is injured in battle- you are first to offer him another drink. 

 Astarion calls you, “Darling '' from time to time and you thought that might be something, but you also heard him call Karlach and Shadowheart that too. 

 You feel so conflicted when you go to bed- he seeks out Shadowheart and never you at bedtime. He spends all night talking to her about Gods only knows what. You are certain some of it is mocking you, but you try to remain optimistic. He wouldn’t do that- you have been nothing but kind to him. What could he even say?

 Tonight is the first night that he is by himself and not talking to Shadowheart. You can do it- just go up and ask him if he would like to take a walk with you. No big deal. 

 “Hi Astarion,” you say softly, “are you having fun?”

“No- no thanks to you, by the way.”

 Your smile falters slightly, but you rebound. 

“I’m sorry- I wasn’t trying to ruin your night.”

 Astarion rolls his eyes and flashes a smile that makes your breath catch. 

 “I suppose it couldn’t be helped, Darling,” he says with a dismissive wave, “you and all your do gooder nonsense was bound to get us here eventually.”

 You smile brightly- happy with the positive step forward. 

“How rude of me- I forgot to ask- how can I help you this evening?” 

  This is the big moment- you can do it! 

“I was-“ you clear your throat, take a deep breath and avoid his eyes, “I was wondering if you would want to go on a walk with me on the beach later?” 

 Astarion blinks a few times and you think you see the hint of a smile- it makes you feel slightly optimistic. 

 Until it turns into a snort and a laugh he can’t hold back.

“You are so naive,” your heart drops, “whatever gave you the impression that I would want to ‘go on a walk’ with you?” 

 You frown, a lump in your throat is beginning to form and you feel so embarrassed that you wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain yourself.

“I- you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I am glad we could clear that up.”

“Me too,” you say with a forced smile, “good night.”

“You don’t have to-“

 You walk away- all the horror and heartbreak simply being far far too much to bear. How could you be so positively stupid? 

 Your mother always chastised you for this kind of thing- you give and give and give, hoping it will make people love you, but it never works. They will take everything from you and then some because they can. 

 You sit on an alcove overlooking the camp- far enough away that you hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone. You wish you hadn’t- you just barely catch a glimpse of Astarion dragging the all alluring and elusive Shadowheart away into the forest. 

 You are diminished to tears- your heart feels like it has splinters all over it and your stomach feels like it may twist before collapsing in on itself. 

 You are about to give up and leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention. 

“It’s just me,” Wyll says with his hands up, a friendly smile on his face, “you seemed like you may need a friend.”

 You laugh and wipe your tears away, “and here I thought I was hiding it so well.”

 “You do, my friend,” Wyll says before putting a hand on your shoulder, “what troubles you?” 

 “You are going to think I’m stupid.”

 Wyll laughs lightheartedly, “I have seen and done my fair share of ‘stupid’.” 

 You inhale deeply and tell Wyll your story- from start to finish. You are a crying mess by the end of it- so much so that Wyll actually maneuvered you and began cradling you in his arms. 

 His heartbeat helps steady you- the connection to nature and the ground is helpful. It makes it all feel a bit better- you suppose.

 You eventually sit back down next to Wyll- your face is blotchy and red, tear stained and puffy. 

“I have noticed that you give Astarion all of you,” Wyll says with a frown, “spirit, body, heart, and mind.

“Maybe it is time to stop- set some boundaries for yourself. I am sorry that you did not get the answer you wanted, but at least now you know and that is a blessing. You can now look for someone who truly wants you and gives equally as much as they take.” 

 You nod. You had hoped to hear more of a, “he will come around” message, but you know this is the better, healthier message. You despise it, but it’s true.

 You and Wyll spend time talking about other things. You tell him how you hope to open your own clinic one day and help people who cannot afford it. Wyll tells you about the Sword Coast, his failings, and his own trauma. 

 He teaches you different constellations, the different flora in the area, and what the fishing season was like when the town was functioning and Wakeen’s rest was up and running. It sounds like it was a beautiful place to live before all of this nonsense erupted.

 It’s fun and Wyll makes you feel seen and appreciated. He still isn’t Astarion, but you know it will take some time before you can look at someone else and that’s okay.

 Wyll walks you back to camp and you don’t bother to look over at Astarion’s tent nor do you go that way like you usually would. You noticed he was back and so was Shadowheart. Both of their clothes were ruffled- it’s been at least two hours so you can only imagine.

  “Good night, Tav,” Wyll kisses you on the back of the hand before engulfing you in a large hug that you gladly accept, “sleep well- tomorrow will be better.”

 You go to your bedroll and begin to open your healing magics book when a knock on your tent post gets your attention. Maybe it’s Wyll. He did say he enjoyed talking to you, maybe he wants to spend the night? That doesn’t seem overly realistic though- he is a perfect gentleman.

“Come in,” you say, still not looking up, “what’s up?” 

“I was hoping I may be able to get a small snack?”

 Oh. It’s Astarion.

 You just fed him earlier today before the party. Usually you would say yes, but Wyll is right- you can’t keep giving him everything and leaving nothing for yourself. 

“I- I am really sorry,” he frowns and his ears even droop, “I am just really tired and I don’t-“

“No worries, Tav.” He says with a forced smile on his face, “have a good evening.”

  You are shaking after he leaves the tent. You cannot believe you just did that. You set a whole boundary. 

 No he did not call you by a pet name nor did he flirt with you. Yes he frowned and it made your heart hurt, but you need to start putting yourself first. 

  You still cry yourself to sleep and you wake up early enough to wash your face with cold water- any evidence of your heartbreak is completely gone. 

     ***********************************************

 You have managed to really avoid Astarion for the last four, almost five days. You let him feed because you don’t want him to starve to death, but you found out that casting “calm” on yourself beforehand keeps your adrenaline from kicking up so you no longer react to him.

 You cry afterwards, obviously, but he doesn’t need to know that. He is right- he never did anything to make you believe he liked you and it was very naive of you to assume he did. However, you do commend yourself for your courage to try and you even walked away with your dignity. 

 At the end of the day, you are proud of yourself and you love yourself more than anything. You will continue your mission and continue to help people because you enjoy helping people. Right now, this group of weirdos needs you and you need you so that you all make it out of this nonsense alive.

 That is more than enough to keep someone busy.

 First there was a Hag to fight, then you unfortunately had to kill a monster hunter (you didn’t talk to Astarion about it afterwards, that is Shadowheart’s job), and fought a bunch of spiders off- which also brought up the Necromancy of Thay argument again. That was exhausting. 

 Astarion opened the door on a Bugbear and Ogre bumping uglies, you also had to really put your foot down so that he wouldn’t send a dark Gnome flying. He was quite frustrated with you, but he understood your reasoning enough to not do it. 

 Then there were the Gnolls and Astarion had opened the chest which caused the Zhentarim guild to attack and try to make you all explode. Thankfully you were able to save that weird artist, but no one from the guild survived. 10/10 supplies though. 

 There are things to be done and places to see. Exploring the Underdark first made the most sense. It upset Lae’zel, but she said she trusts your judgment which warms your heart. 

 It is certainly not a quick or easy journey to get to the entrance inside the abandoned temple of your Goddess. You can hear Shadowheart saying snarky things- Astarion snorts here and there, but doesn’t actually chime in for once. 

 At least you get some relief from that for a day. You wrap your hand around your Moondrop pendant and you already feel the love of Selune flow through you. You kept the statue as well and you keep it next to you- last night you actually slept with it in your hand. 

 You had grown up exceptionally poor and your parents died from some disease in the mines where you were all imprisoned. The mine was eventually raided by Selune clerics and paladins- you immediately knew that is what you wanted to be. Selune had saved you right before you were being shipped to another location and you lived with her clergy ever since.

 You were grateful you had a potion of flying as well as the support of the others to keep the moonstone. Even Astarion expressed his approval when Shadowheart became upset. You waited until it killed the Minotaur, of course. The splash of blood that hit the group wasn’t necessarily welcome, but oh well.

  And at least you don’t have a ridiculous name.

 You snicker to yourself as you walk- earning an odd look from Gale who is covered in Minotaur blood. You urge him to keep talking about whatever book he finished last night and he gladly dives back into the subject. 

 Finding a decent spot to camp was actually pretty easy. The camp is beautiful and your tent is set up next to Karlach’s. She convinces you to make a massive tent fort and Fort Tavlach is born. 

 You pass a bottle of wine back and forth as you talk. Karlach is letting you hug Clive as you talk about the tiefling party and the aftermath of everything.

“Is that why those two are sitting next to each other so miserably?” 

You cock your head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“What I mean is they look miserable and haven’t stopped fighting for the last three days,” Karlach states with a raised eyebrow, “have you really not been paying attention?”

 You shake your head. Karlach gapes at you, chugging a bit of the wine before passing it back.

“Well- I have been waiting to tell you all day, but Shadowheart finally told me what they were fighting about.”

 “Oh, Karlach, I really should-“

“Two nights ago, they tried to be intimate again and he said your name during the act itself.”

 You simultaneously choke on and spit out your wine- some of it comes out of your nose. You can’t stop coughing and Karlach is dying laughing- she is crying she is laughing so hard. You are crossing your arms and uncrossing them in front of your face- a look of bewilderment as you process what just happened.

“mE!?”

 This just makes Karlach laugh even harder, she goes running straight for behind a rock- screaming that she is going to pee herself.

 The entire camp is looking over in curiosity and you just wave awkwardly. You catch Astarion’s gaze from the corner of your eye and he looks sad- maybe even a little angry.

 He storms off to his tent and Shadowheart rolls her eyes, glaring at you before going off to her own tent. 

 Karlach eventually comes back and you both continue your drunken gossip.

“That- that can’t possibly be true,” you say, “I asked him on a date and he told me I was naive to think he would ever want to be with me that way.”

“What!?” Karlach looks like she may light the entire camp on fire, “why didn’t you say something! We could have-“

“No,” you chastise, “he is right. It was naive of me to assume- my hurt is no one else’s fault. I also chose to give him everything I had. 

“He doesn’t owe me, I wanted to do those things,” you affirm, Karlach is smiling softly, “I still adore him, of course, but this is for the best, you know? Wyll says it means I can set my sights elsewhere now that I know Astarion isn’t into me.” 

“That is very big of you. Look at you in your big kid pants.”

You roll your eyes and give her a playful shove.

“He has been hurt and used enough for a dozen lifetimes- I don’t want to contribute to that hurt.” 

“You are a good person, Soldier,” Karlach hands you the bottle of wine, “you know- Halsin would be an amazing lover. I am sure of it.”

 “You think?”

“Oh ho- let me tell you what I think, Soldier-“

 Karlach goes into her wild theories and you try so hard to listen intently, but your drunken mind is stuck on Astarion and wondering if he is okay.

[haechvn]

So That's It Then, Huh?

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

Warning: Angst. Yearning!Terry. Just sad really.

Summary: He’s been fighting for your love and you have trying your hardest to break his heart. Your plan is working.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Author’s Note: Got inspiration from this post. Ugh i just love angst so much. Y'all better hate y/n by the time you done reading this. Lowkey features Erik and Fontaine. IFYKYK.

Taglist: @planetblaque @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @prettyinpikk @theinsidefeelingofateen

‘Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.’ This was the self-taught mantra he began to loop in his mind.

Wrinkles danced between his eyebrows in anguish as his wide-set nose flared furiously. It was almost as if he was vibrating, shaking at such an alarming speed with his anger radiating off of him like a soft tidal wave. Agitation ripped through his body, his innately rancorous emotions thrashed around inside him yet there was still a chilling calmness to his rage. Your alluring voice no longer sweetened his spirit but simply urged him to pull his heart from his body. That's what your words were already doing to him anyways so what would be the problem if he actually tried?

He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you. His irises are a darker, moodier shade of grey as opposed to the usual vibrant green. His chest is tight and hot as he begins to wonder if something outside of him is slowly gnawing away at his life source — feeling less and less in control of his breathing as his mind swirls in confusion. He’s so overwhelmed with emotions he doesn’t even notice the tears that cascade down his cheeks, eyes piercing yours, searching for any semblance of solace only to be met with venom. Eyes that captivated him upon first glance. Eyes that once brought him peace. Eyes that once threw themselves out into the rapid waters of life and anchored him back to shore. Eyes that belong to the soul he loved with all his heart and knew as his. Eyes he loved with his entire being.

How can you stand there and say these things to him? It’s hard to tell what has gotten into you but you have never made him feel so insignificant and small. He spends every waking moment of his life trying to express his gratitude for your existence and yet you can’t even begin to process the amount of pain he is in. As if you even care. You want to leave him? After pouring every fiber of himself into this relationship you two share? No. Hell no. Fuck n— 

“But how can you say that though? You talkin’ like I don’t take care of you or dedicate myself to you or like I haven’t given you my all… Man what the fuck?” Terry is at a loss for words. His heart can’t handle the insane statements you are making. He is seconds away from passing out.

“I feel like you are being so dramatic right now Terry,” you say, backing up away from him in attempt to create more space between the two of you. Is it your fault that you weren’t feeling the relationship anymore? In your eyes, you and Terry want two different things at this point in time; one person wants a long-term committed partnership and the other wants to continue seeing different people. As if y'all haven't been together for a while now. You didn’t anticipate meeting another man that would give you the same type of butterflies you got when you first met your soon-to-be-ex Terry. If anything, you have been looking for a reason to leave him for a long time. Things just didn’t feel as organic as they used too. His kisses don’t feel the same. Your heart doesn’t skip a beat when he looks at you anymore. There’s a part of you that feels out of touch with him no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that he’s it for you. You have found yourself falling out of love for him and leaning in closer to other men. The late night texts and calls with other lovers wouldn’t technically be considered cheating right? What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him as far as you’re concerned.

The atmosphere in Terry’s home was unsettling. Honestly you are a bit taken aback by his reaction to your words but nonetheless, you aimed to achieve your goal and that was to rid yourself of this "man" standing before you. It’s not like he did anything to you directly but sometimes if you wear the same pair of shoes everyday, you might eventually get bored and wanna throw them away. It’s not the best feeling in the world to see his face stained with sadness and disbelief but somehow a wave of peace washes over your body, the soothing reality that you won’t have to deal with him much longer cemented itself in your shared space.

“I’ve been meaning to bring this up to you for a while Ter,” you continue, causing him to slightly wince as you use a pet name of his as if you aren’t currently trying to break him down to his core. “I can’t say this has been the most fulfilling relationship for me and—,”

“Bullshit! What are you even talking about right now princess? I love you. I know you love me. Why are we even doing this? Where is this all coming from? We was just good yesterday and now you on some other shi—“

“Terry stop fighting me on this! You know you have felt a shift too. It’s not the same anymore. You don’t feel familiar to me,” you say, twisting your diamond bracelet that Erik— or was it Fontaine— gave you a few days prior. Talk about applying pressure. Those men really know how to make a lady feel special and it just made Terry look so different in your eyes. Sure the two of you made lot of memories, special moments together and lots of “love” but okay? You wanted something different. Why are you all of a sudden the bad guy? Even if the two of you have been together for about a year, that doesn’t warrant Terry's overemotional reaction does it? How in love can one person be after a year? That’s like saying you’re deeply in love with someone after two months. Be so for real. Terry is a grown man and he can get over this. Heck, you already are. Wait. Didn’t Erik plan a dinner date for the two of you tonight? Oh shit! You should probably hurry up because you know he doesn’t like waiting and oh how could you forget! He sent the most beautiful dress over to your condo with priceless jewels and these absolutely gorgeous shoes that have these—

“Yo. Are you even listening to me?” Terry’s tear-stained face lowers to meet your gaze, his body closing in on you in a way to make his presence known but not scare you away. This is not how he had planned on his day going. You are what makes it easier for him to wake up every day and push forward no matter what lies ahead yet you don't even seem the slightest bit moved by his outward display of emotions. He can’t decipher whether he is simply dreaming or if his worst nightmare is truly taking form in front of him. He reaches out to you, placing a soft touch under your chin forcing you to look up at him as he towers over you. His thumb rubs against your skin, wishing it were his lips there instead. He so desperately wants to just kiss you with all of his might and throw you over his shoulder but no matter how upset he is, he knows hearing you out is more effective than seducing and pulling you back into him with his actions.

“I’m not letting you go. That is not up for discussion. Whatever it is you need me to do just tell me and you know I gotchu,” he whispers lowly, tucking a braid behind your ear. Though his touch is gentle and warm, that doesn’t negate the fact that you no longer want to be in a relationship with him. You checked out months ago. Somehow, seeing him vulnerable like this actually made your heart thump a lil bit. Crazy right? He was definitely a good man when it came to loving you and treating a woman the way she deserves but that doesn’t mean you have to stay with him because of it. You take a few steps backwards, moving your face away from his grasp, the tension in his living room thickening as you internally plan your exit strategy. Terry is absolutely wrecked and two seconds away from truly experiencing his breaking point. What the hell is going on?

“There’s nothing you can do Terry and that’s the problem. It’s actually not me. It’s you,” you huff tugging at the rose gold ring that rested on your right hand. How can you still be wearing this piece of crap he gave you? He probably lied about the price to be honest. No way he actually paid ninety thousand and you still don’t think it’s that cute. Maybe for someone who doesn’t have any taste. Terry’s eyes remain focused on your face so he doesn’t see you toss the piece of jewelry he had custom-made for you onto his couch, slightly blending in with the beige material.

“We are done and that’s it. I don’t want to talk about this anymore because we don’t have anything else to discuss. Goodbye Terrence. Don't fucking contact me.” With that, you spin on your heels that Fontaine personally delivered to you with a side of dick last night and skipped your way out of his life. You have places to be and people to see and somehow this man thinks he’s more important than that? Yea fucking right. He’s actually lucky you didn’t even tell him about the other men because that would have just sent him into cardiac arrest.

Terrence. Terrence? In all the time that you two spent together, you never once called him by his government. You spat it out as if if was poison or a disease you wanted to rid yourself of.

The door slam was the final nail in the coffin for him. What the actual fuck just happened and why were you so happy — overjoyed even — to leave him? What did he do? What didn’t he do? Too many questions and yet no answers could sooth the aching pain he experienced within his entire body. Harsh sobs escaped from his lips as his knees grew weak as he dropped to the floor. He buried his face in his right hand in attempt to quiet himself but of course that just made him want to cry out more. His broad shoulders shook as his breathing pattern became unsteady and short. It had been a while since Terry experienced a panic attack or maybe he was just so overwhelmed that his body and emotions couldn't continue to sustain itself. He can’t even make himself angry or upset. All he wants is you. For you to be by his side for the rest of his life, grow and share a beautiful family. That’s what the two of you agreed on when you joined this union. Terry tried to wipe the tears from his eyes but they multiplied by the millisecond.

No. No. No. Not today. Why today of all days? That didn't just happen. You two had such a beautiful lunch earlier in the day and he had brought you back to his in hopes of you sharing the same sentiment in spending the rest of your lives together. He planned on proposing. The ring sat tucked in his left pocket. So close to being yours but not so much anymore. The most expensive diamond ring he could find with your shared initials incrusted on the side. Upon remembering this, his heart was beating rapidly as his mind began badger and belittle him. He had just lost Mike and now you? He doesn’t believe that he will be able to recover from this type of heartbreak. Is he supposed to just get over you and find someone else? You are the only one in the world who knows him like the back of your hand, aiding in him becoming the man he is today. Now you have unknowingly created a monster out of the ashes of a man who would once obey your every command.

[narriose]

Thoughts on Veilguard so far:

Preface: I’m ~50 hours in with a handful of endgame spoilers.

My general values are: Story > Characters > Gameplay > Romance > Rep > Visuals.

My rating of the previous games: DA2 > DAO > DAI

Spoilers under Cut:

What I expected: Having to deal with an unappealing art style and clunky gameplay with leftover multiplayer and live service era elements that they couldn’t get rid of for the sake of the story and characters.

What I got: Well…

Let’s Start with the negatives:

-Dialogue: I want to know what happened there. Ik for a fact they had veteran BioWare writers on the team and it feels like there was a decision to dumb everything down to the point of me immediately having a line in my head that would sound better in universe every time someone spoke. It proved especially grating once I heard Morrigan speak. And when people compare the writing to MCU I cannot really protest. “Dragon Age has always been unserious” yes but like. Not every other line was a joke or relatable™️ millennial awkwardness . When jokes did happen they became memorable moments for the fandom. It’s often very difficult to listen to. Especially when Rook talks. It is getting marginally better though.

-Tone: Dragon Age has been compelling to me because it wrote conflict and trauma and corruption in a way that felt developed enough to feel grounded and believably horrific. Even with all its faults. DATV mellowed out the horrors and seems to gloss over a lot of sociopolitical dynamics and lore. Stuff like portraying crows as vigilantes and not showing the evils of Tevinter slavery. The tone itself just feels like theyre trying to make an easily marketable sanitized IP out of it to cater to a wider audience.

-Character Writing: A lot of characterization has been “Tell not show” because I’m disappointed in Lucanis and Neve. The story says one is a serious killer and the other is a cynic but both have only been friendly soft and positive which is like??? I feel like a lot of their intro has been cut out or something where they establish those traits on screen. Another thing is: there don’t appear to be actually detestable and controversial traits in characters or even internal conflict they need to overcome. They’re just dealing with some kind of external thing thrust onto them and that is very shallow to me personally.

-Intro: I know we’re not getting Origins style personalized intros again but it felt like too much is handwaived into people making their own OCs and forming headcanons when the game doesn’t let us RP much at all outside identity stuff anyway. Like how do we know Varric? Why should any of the pep talks he gives us mean anything when we haven’t experienced anything to warrant the complements he gives us?

-Villains: possibly the worst part of the story: they lit act like theyre in a preschool cartoon down to body language. No nuance no controversy no actual horror to them when in previous games the evil felt so much more pronounced because some of the villains felt human enough to be a shitty person irl.

-Rep: Sigh. Even as a transmasc I might be a little too internally transphobic for the rep in the game. It feels like so many steps ahead of what the story should be handling. Like fix the slavery problem in a meaningful way then start philosophical gender discussions about what a gender binary even is. And it’s very cringe to me when it’s spoken about in game. Like yeah I love that there’s no way to dispute what the characters are but it also feels so entirely uncreative using modern day terminology for this stuff. And I don’t mean “replace it with ambiguous sad baby talk” but something more. Like is it terrible to want that? Even if you were planning on using the word nonbinary, at least tell us what a binary even is and how it was instituted as an idea into this world. Like I do adore Taash, I just wish the gender stuff wasn’t so clumsy.

-Visuals: It’s hard man. As an artist who sees human bodies as proportion reference points, the bodies still look off to me. Like it was worse and I’m getting used to it but it’s still painful. And I’m all for trying to stylize but this particular heroforge direction was not something I would have picked.

-OST: At first I couldn’t tell Zimmer/Balfe’s stuff apart from Morris’s but yeah, the new stuff is more boring(Sans the Rivain part)

-The 3 choice thing: yeah not a fan of that. I feel like perhaps it was a part of the multiplayer era where they would not be able to import much if everyone had a massively different world state so they limited it to the tiny MC choices. Still sad that the romance thing only really matters if you romanced Solas because the Dorian cameo wasn’t anything to write home about. Kinda feels like they added him in last minute because someone pointed out how much Solas-skewed the choices were. Idk. I so expected Josie in Antiva but alas.

Now Onto the Positives:

-Codices: The very way-too modern simplified conversational dialogue style carries over to the codices. And while I despise that as a creative, I do find myself actually reading them as they come because they are so easy to absorb. I feel like a lot of people would benefit from not skipping them because there are some references and plot reveals worth checking out.

-Story: If you deafen the dialogue style, the story itself is top. Gets way better as you play and from the spoilers I’ve heard, yeah. It’s good. Can’t wait to find out more.

-Gameplay: Listen I have a massive preference for DA style combat even if most ppl call it a slog. The turn based element, the pause button, the hoarding skills I never use. It’s like coming home to me. I hated DAI combat for the amount of anxiety it induced and I usually hate fast-paced action combat in most other games. DATV made me eat my boots. Its combat is insanely fun and engaging and often times I’m looking forward to fights more than quests themselves. Very colorful, very flashy, and very effective. The pause button gives less freedom but it’s there. The combos are fun. It is like Mass Effect except I did not find commanding the companions in Mass Effect as intuitive. Tho I wish non mages had less magicey feeling attacks.

-The CC: Yeah it wowed me with the options. I like how much can be done with the facial sliders and how good the hair looks.

-Puzzles: Listen the puzzles are extremely stupid in this game. But I also am very stupid and lazy when it comes to solving them. I have looked up the vast majority of puzzle solutions for DA games. No more DA2 Fade Barrels and no more trying to circumnavigate the ad infested Fandom Wiki to get to the Kitty’s prison solution. Crafted specifically for me.

-Mechanical Things: The game is optimized insanely well. Both when It comes to your PC and the gameplay. I’m amazed how well it runs on my PC when games like BG3 and Cyberpunk make my CPU scream. Love that. As far as gameplay goes: everything is super streamlined and designed to be as un-annoying as possible. No carry weight, no collectibles as annoying and unrewarding as the shards and mosaics. The maps are easy to parse. The game does not bombard you with useless NPCs, banter can’t be interrupted and characters catch up on banter at the Lighthouse if you’ve been avoiding certain party comps by accident. The quest locator is actually helpful. Skill points can be refunded. Looting is easy and finding shit feels rewarding.

-Characters: Honestly they do have some interesting things going on and while most characters feel a little hollow so far, I was pleasantly surprised by Davrin and Bellara. Davrin is the one I’m romancing and while the actual romance isn’t groundbreaking I’m glad I chose him. Yes, his character has a lot to do with Assan and his arc, but he does have stuff going on of his own. He’s very refreshing because some of the things he says low key both makes you think and also worry about him. He’s also not your usual preppy jock type. He can be a little mean sometimes. He’s artistic and principled. He has some remnants of “opinions I don’t agree with” that I love early DA for. When it comes to Bellara, she absolutely breaks the sort of Manic Pixie/Quirky Awkward young coded girl mold. It is the fact that there is self awareness and hints of history of failure and isolation in her words. There is also masking and over-clarification that I can relate to personally. I hope there is stuff like that to other companions when I get to know them better.

Visuals: the UI and Locations are stunning. The outfits the best the game has had so far(tho wish the overall look was less stylized) The blighted stuff(sans the ogres) and the Crossroads. Beautiful.

-Dwarf Lore: started out as fucking cheesy but I just finished meeting Valta and I’m seated.

-Solas Stuff: Hated the man for a while. Caved and made a solavellan to import to get more story stuff. NGL he is actually tolerable/interesting to me in this game.

Overall: A sickly sweet combo of Disappointed and Impressed. And I’m still gonna be playing. I am used to not liking something about every DA game. That’s part of the fun for me. But damn is this one testing me. Am I having a lot of fun playing it? Absolutely. Am I finding it difficult to get through a concerning amount of dialogue…yeah. It does still feel like a DA game but also like if someone made a pg-13 live action of Inquisition and then made a supplementary game based off that. If I forget that it’s supposed to be a sequel and just treat it like an action game with plot then it’s easier. And like I’m sure at least half of what I listed as a negative can be attributed to EA meddling or prev iterations of the game being inseparable. Anyway. Can’t wait to see the ending and I will add more thoughts when I’m done.

[kingcons]

The substance is the most upsetting movie of the year to me. Full disclosure, this isn’t any ground breaking stuff you’re about to read, just me writing down my thoughts. Most of which have probably been said before by now. But it you want to read my ramblings, here ya go:

Spoilers for the whole movie below. If you haven’t seen this movie and like extreme horror (specifically body horror) please watch it. It’s fantastic and possibly my new favorite movie.

Sue and Elizabeth both deserved a chance at happiness. That is the thing that kills me about that movie. Under all the gore and grimness and camp it’s just so fucking sad.

Anything one does to the other is just them doing it to themselves. You can try to kill the part of you that hurts or fails or is ugly or weak or older or more scarred or not as nice - but it’s part of you. You are one, as the movie says over and over. This is such a tragic movie to me.

Aging is body horror. This is partly because of societal pressures and toxic beauty standards, but it’s also a slow crawl to death. It’s watching something you need to live break down and fall apart in front of your eyes and not being able to permanently fix it. Death is an inevitability that comes for us all, but aging can be worse for some. When we die, whatever may happen to our soul or if anything even happens at all, it’ll happen whether we want it to or not. There’s nothing to fear in the inevitable, but there’s also no reason to rush what may be your only shot at existence. And if you do want to live a long filled life, you have to accept that aging is a part of it.

Elisabeth being so desperate for perfection and for her career back is a story that’s as old as time. It’s not really her fault she was pushed to use the substance, but it is her responsibility that she fully carried out making a new ‘better’ version of herself. She doesn’t really have any friends or family more than that, just a big luxury apartment with a giant picture of herself at her peak. It stares at her all the time, and it’s what she tried to be everyday. But even as Sue, suddenly that wasn’t even enough. She needed to be better and more beautiful.

It broke my heart when Elisabeth tried to kill sue despite how she ended up looking. She didn’t care anymore, she just wanted to live as pain free as she could. And it was a further tug on my heart strings when she regretted this. Because Elisabeth had accepted sue as a part of herself, and was tired of hurting that part because it was hurting her. She just wanted it to end. She just wanted things to go back to normal and they can’t and it’s all her fault and she literally has no one in the world but her and her ‘more perfect’ self for comfort. And her ‘more perfect’ self then proceeds to brutally kill her.

I know it was mostly to hurt Elisabeth’s feelings but sue’s tv interview where she made up a story of her family is also oddly sad to me. She doesn’t have that. She has memories of Elisabeth’s life, but she has defined herself as a different person now. A person who came into existence in their early to mid twenties combined with the split consciousness of what was essentially her own mother. Of course she’s fucking terrified of switching back. Not only does Elisabeth herself like Sue’s body more, but to switch would mean she’s no longer in control and it would mean having to live in a decrepit and dying body who she herself has twisted beyond recognition. Then for Sue to be almost killed by her own giver of life (herself), lash out and try to kill the part of her who is unloved, and realizing that part of her even from after death is having the last laugh almost, as she literally falls apart piece by piece on what was supposed to be a magical night just for her.

Of course, we have to talk about their final form. Monstero Elisasue. Quick side note, I honestly don’t think Sue was stupid or irresponsible for using the activator even though it warned it was for single use. I think literally anyone in her shoes would do the same thing. She was breaking down in front of her very eyes and dying in such a slow and horrible way that she was desperate to do anything to stop it - to do anything to still be beautiful. She was in a crisis both physically and mentally.

Back on track, I think there’s definitely something to be said about although this was never meant to happen, the substance still made this in an attempt to create ‘a better version of both Sue and Elisabeth’. And it IS. not physically, of course, but emotionally this is when they finally accept themselves as one person and love themselves again. It’s so sad to me because elisasue was not evil or violent, but because she looked so horrific, it didn’t matter that she was happy to the crowd. They were terrified of her and killed her. Elisasue is not a monster, despite looking like one. She’s a new being. A copy of a copy. When she says “it’s still me” it breaks my heart because she genuinely thought she’d be accepted and loved just the same but instead she was met with violence and fear. She lived for only a few hours, and in that time she was shown nothing but hatred. Because it didn’t matter that she was happy, it only mattered that she couldn’t make money anymore. That is of course reading into the symbolism, the reality of what happened showed some understandable reactions even if they weren’t kind. Being disgusted and terrified of elisasue is pretty reasonable given how she looks and just what she is. I’m not saying she’s gonna win any modeling competitions any time soon. But I am saying that she finally figured out there was more to life than looks and youth and fitness and that, right there, is what thematically gets her killed.

At the end with her on the star, I felt almost relief for the first time watching that movie. She’s genuinely happy. She doesn’t care that she’s literally just a face and some fleshy tendrils, she’s truly happy and at peace. I don’t even know if she’s aware she’s dying at that point or if she just doesn’t care. Maybe she can’t comprehend it because her new form is so different from her first one. She dies after melting into her stardom. She gave everything to her career and it gave her nothing back. But at the very end, she’s at peace. She’s finally who she wants to be without the pain of toxic beauty standards. And she just fades away, like the universe finally decided she’d suffered enough for being human.

There’s a lot I could talk about with cinematography, music, sound design, lighting and practical effects, but I’ll do that another time. This is just me talking about my thoughts on the story and characters.

I rate this movie:

9/10. The only reason it’s not 10 is because I think the origin and creation of the substance is a bit poorly explained. However, that’s such a small detail that it doesn’t offend me. Also because I HATED the nail in the elevator scene that made me cringe. But yeah, this movie fucks hard. If you think you have the stomach for it, do not miss out. It’s very hard hitting and surprisingly sad. It blends crazy body horror with tragedy quite well.

very reminiscent of the fly, Raw/grave, it follows, the thing and even somewhat doctor who (anyone remember the eleventh doctor two part episode ‘the flesh’?) Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley are phenomenally talented. I am desperate for them to do horror or drama in future, they fucking killed it. Such talent and skill. Bravo. Coralie Fargeat is a very very good director, too. This idea and execution for this movie were wild and brilliant and awful and terrible all at the same time. She’s a true artist and I hope she does a lot more fucked up things in future.

[wondrousmay]

I’ve been feeling this way about a certain fandom for months now so I have to get it off my chest:

I feel that the SxF fandom has changed for the worse. The downfall of the fandom is so sad to witness. The incident with ShinyBlueBirdWizard was the tipping point in my opinion. The toxic fans now rule the fandom since they think they’ve “won” and it’s just a mess.

This is more evident on the bird app but I’ve also seen less discussions on here too. I really miss the old times where the fandom was more chill and filled with a lot of interesting analyses and discussions rather than random recycled posts for engagement and the same repeated discourse. It is a shame that the fandom is turning into a hive mind.

I’ve muted and blocked a lot of people when I saw that they’re associated or interacted with the toxic group. I don’t tolerate any toxic behavior and I haven’t forgotten what they’ve done to other fans for having different opinions than them. I’ve been a target so I know what it is like.

It’s messed up that being positive and saying good things is seen as “being fake” while being toxic is seen as being honest. I don’t understand this fandom mentality and I’ve been in fandoms for a long time. It’s also very disappointing to see people defend and support this kind of behavior.

I really miss ShinyBlueBirdWizard. I didn’t know them personally but their presence in the fandom was invaluable to me. Their insights and analyses made me appreciate the story even more. I don’t always agree with them but it was fun to read a different perspective on things. I always look forward to Shiny’s posts after a new chapter and now it’s really lonely… I was inspired by them to write my own analyses posts too.

Every new chapter, there are more complaints than there are discussions and it makes me sad especially when we just celebrated the 5th anniversary of the manga’s serialization. I did plan to contribute more discussions and analyses posts but work has been very stressful lately. I’m hoping to change this soon though!

[katuschka]

Olalla – Chapter One

Josh Kiszka x female OC, Jake Kiszka

4.965 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: sadness, heartbreak, talking about death, anxiety, alcohol consumption

Taglist

Next chapter Olalla masterlist

I had a dream that the sky above the mountains darkened,

but it was just my beloved’s darkening eyes. 

I had a dream there was a lightning brightening the skies above those hills,

but it was just my beloved’s cheeks that lightened. 

I had a dream in which I saw storm clouds approaching,

but it was just a boy making love to his beloved.

(I Had a Dream, Čechomor)

It was true that Jake and Josh had seen the world, but their trips and explorations were always restricted by time. Everything was scheduled, planned and adjusted to fit the itinerary. Wherever they went, it was – first and foremost – a “business trip”. Sometimes they had days in between shows, oftentimes just hours. Be there on time. We don’t have enough time. You can visit only one of those galleries this time. Maybe next time... They were now rapidly approaching thirty, but haven’t yet experienced the simple joy of backpacking with all its perks and benefits. Freedom being probably the most important of them. 

So, when the last show ended and it was time to fly back home, they decided to stay behind for a little while. It was a spontaneous decision, made in Josh’s hotel room after having had one too many beverages with several other people, none of whom shared their enthusiasm. Everyone just wanted to go home. They say there’s nothing like home and it’s true that there had been times when it meant something to the two of them as well, even after months spent away from it. But right now, their beds back home were cold and empty – a sad consequence, as well as a memento, of the lives they’d lived and the things they’d done. Could it have been prevented? Maybe, but what is past is past. It was the present that could and should be taken care of, and there was still the future to be shaped. 

Even though the others tried to talk sense into them and nearly succeeded, by 4 am, the two of them finally made up their minds that it was time to really choose the road. “Time to write my own fucking screenplay,” Josh said. After a short nap, they repacked the essentials, said their goodbyes and hopped the train that was supposed to take them to all those yet to be discovered places. 

Because it was summertime, last-minute accommodation options were pretty limited in larger cities. That only made it even more exciting, though, and turned out to be quite beneficial in the end. More often than not, they had to share a room that only had one king size bed. Not only they didn’t mind, it seemed as the most natural thing to do, and they welcomed it. Sightseeing or hiking during daylight hours, they didn’t want to part and disappear in their separate dens in the evening, like they did on tour. Touring – with all the rush and stress and boredom – often made them feel lonely. 

They knew they had been hurting, they were well aware of the reasons why, but there had not been enough time to come clean about it. So, now, their late night talks often ended with at least one of them crying as the reminiscences of the people who no longer wanted to be part of their lives turned into shared melancholy. 

Sharing…that’s what the trip turned out to be really about. Two brothers who once shared a womb, who later forged their mutual dreams about healing humankind through art into their shared destiny. Now they opened up to each other about how much they feared loneliness and lack of love. And it was a shared fear, too. It wouldn't be fair to say that there wasn’t enough love or affection in their lives, on the contrary. They were showered with it in great abundance. Their parents, siblings, other family members and all their numerous friends all loved them dearly and unconditionally, simply because they existed. The plentitude of it, including their mutual love for each other, shaped their personalities and nurtured their souls as they grew up. 

That’s how they learned about the importance of love. They knew very well how lucky they were. Forever grateful, they wanted to share it and to pass it on…and then they were told that they didn’t. The reality hit them in their faces like a freight train loaded with reproach.

That’s how they found themselves mourning the kind of love they thought they failed to provide, the one they thought they consequently didn’t deserve. Once they conceded this to each other, they had to face the fact that they felt ashamed. They also had to admit that their own broken hearts still hurt, the raw and barely healed wounds opening up again during those midnight talks. A few times they fell asleep in a comforting embrace. 

Wawel Castle, Krakow 

“I think we should head back to the hotel.” 

When Jake came back from the bathroom, Josh was still leaning over the railings, looking down at the river bend just below the high stone outer wall. He felt so much at peace up here, the fragrant summer air saturated with the scent of trees, damp stone, vanilla ice cream – as well as sudden whiff of ozone – filling his nostrils. They weren’t alone here. The courtyard was still full of people at this time of day, but the humidity muffled all the conversations as well as shrieking kids that were running around, and turned it all into a pleasant hum. It all felt almost dreamlike. Somewhere in the distance, less than a hundred miles further south, were the mountains…

Their adventure was nearing the end, it was their time to fly home the next day. It had rained heavily that morning and the forecast for the whole day promised volatile weather as the fronts collided, but that didn’t stop them. There were still a few places in Krakow which particularly Josh wanted to visit. Not really in a hurry, they went out for early lunch; later they were just idling around in the old town, eating pretzels and doughnuts, drunk on wine. It was almost 5 pm now. 

“You're probably right,” Josh finally replied, looking at the sky with a frown, “but I’d really love to stay here a little longer.” 

Jake didn’t say anything, just nodded. They stood next to each other for another ten minutes, overlooking the southern part of the city as well as ominous clouds that had formed near the horizon and were now slowly approaching. The wind was rising, playing with their hair, tossing the strands wildly from side to side. They should have been running for shelter by now, but the fresh breeze made them feel completely and utterly reckless. Jake started humming a familiar tune and Josh quickly chimed in:

“But the fool on the hill sees the Sun going down

And the eyes in his head see the world spinning 'round…” …and they bursted out laughing like two madmen as the other people around them scrambled in their feet, looking for a place to hide, girls squeaking as the first raindrops hit the ground.

Now they were running too, heading back to the Old Town, passing crowded restaurants and pubs that didn’t appeal to them anyway. People were running around like ants and the storm clouds and the heavy rain quickly covered the streets in a blanket of semi-darkness. Soon they no longer knew where they were headed. They obviously missed a turn back to the main square and not much later found themselves on a much more quiet and nearly abandoned street that probably wasn’t on a tourist map. The storm hit in full force. 

“Not a fucking thunder,” Jake groaned. They were both already absolutely drenched. Trying to find their way back to the hotel in the pouring rain now proved completely futile as they were probably at least a mile away from it anyway, and being no longer in the area of fancy cafés and parfumeries, looking for shelter of any kind wasn’t that easy anymore, either. A small – and already closed –  grocery shop here, a tenement doorway there…finally they spotted a pub that looked promising. Both of them craved a beer anyway. 

The pub was pretty cozy and warm. It was actually more like a café, only situated below the street level, in the cellar of the building. They sat in silence for a while, but Josh was becoming increasingly restless with each minute, chewing his lip and tapping his fingers on the table.

“Ok, what’s going on,” Jake finally asked. 

“I’m staying.”

When it was met with a half-confused, half-annoyed stare, he continued. “I mean, just for two more weeks. I’d like to go hiking.”

The confusion was gone. Jake was just annoyed now. “Explain. Where? Why?”

“The Tatras. A guy told me the other day… You were still asleep, so I went out to have some breakfast. You know, Krishna bistro across the street… The place was already crowded by 9 am so these two guys joined me at my table. They just came from their hiking trip down there and showed me some pictures.They called the place ‘miniature Alps’, so you can’t get lost,” he laughed nervously. “It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, see? But I feel I need it.”  

Jake needed a moment to decompress. This whole trip had been a “spur-of-the-moment thing”...and they did it together. They had also agreed that it was exactly what they needed, so what the fuck is this bullshit? Josh sensed the impending question even before Jake formed the words in his head. 

“You still have some work you need to finish before the start or the next leg…but I don’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. You’d just try to convince me to go home with you. I know it’s a long flight…I’m sorry Jake, but I really need to do this. For once in my life.”

“It’s insane Josh. And probably dangerous. And it’s mid-season. You probably won’t even find free lodgings. Then what?”

“I already booked it. The guy gave me a tip. Jake…don’t be mad. You know it’s irrational. We’re adults.”

Jake was angry. But he had to agree that it was irrational. They drowned the irrationality in a few more beers and so it happened that the next day, their ways parted. Jake boarded the plane headed for Gatwick while Josh took the train south. 

Jake

London, 12:15 pm

The weather improved considerably since yesterday, but I still couldn’t shake off the sense of impending doom. At first I thought that it was just the anxiety I often felt when flying, this time multiplied by the fact that I was completely alone thousands of miles away from home and wouldn’t even get there sooner than the next morning, at the very best. Only to be greeted by my housekeeper, if I were lucky. Then I remembered that since there was no one else there, she also only came on Mondays every other week while I was away, to do the most necessary tasks like making sure that the house wouldn’t be buried under a layer of gray dust when I came back. 

However, I landed in London about half an hour ago, downed a beer, had a smoke, but the unpleasant feeling that something bad was about to happen still lingered. I couldn’t put my finger on it, all I knew was that I already missed Josh. 

It was completely irrational. We were adults. I had no right to be angry that he stayed behind, but I was. We spent more time together in the last two weeks than we had in over a year. I mean really together, not just next to each other. It was supposed to be our trip, the purpose of which, among other things, was to shake off the growing feeling of loneliness that comes with this lifestyle. So, me being annoyed with him now was perhaps understandable. But anxious? As I said, I hate flying. Having to fly alone sucks and I was about to board a transcontinental plane later that afternoon. I finally convinced myself that anxiety was also understandable. Nothing to be ashamed of…I guess. Still, something seemed off. 

Agnieszka

Zakopane, 5:40 am

I checked the weather app again. Yes, definitely a perfect day for a hike. The sky was perfectly clear after yesterday’s storm and the air coming through the open window felt crisp and fresh. With a bit of luck, it would stay that way well until early afternoon, although one could never be sure here.  

That’s what I both love and hate about the mountains. Even now, at the age of total control over everything, the mountains are unpredictable, uncontrollable and untamed. Even if we destroyed all the life they harbour, bare and stony valleys would still kill you even more easily if you were bold and arrogant enough to venture too far. Many people come here to conquer the mountain. That’s why we hear the sound of rescue helicopters a few times a week. 

Have you ever smelled wet granite? I don’t mean cobblestones or granite walls, but the rough stone, spewed out to the surface of the earth by the untamed power of this planet, broken and twisted with the forces of nature like plasticine…even though a small piece could easily break your skull. There are places here where jagged rock towers a kilometer over your head. When the clouds hang low, try just standing at the bottom of a glacial cirque, surrounded by numerous peaks. It’s a deeply humbling experience. The place literally breathes. You can hear it sing its ominous song and its cold breath can chill you to the bone. These places are indescribably majestic and beautiful…and also scary when you experience the power firsthand. 

Dominik was never scared. He loved the mountains very much, but he had lost all his humbleness. This place does not forgive such folly. He fell 500 meters and was probably dead even before his body hit the ground. It took them three more hours to find him. By that time he was already half buried under fresh white snow. They couldn’t save him. It happened in one of those gorgeous, scary places and I never saw him again. I burned my white dress that day. 

But that was more than 6 years ago…and I’m still here, taking care of pretty alpinists who come and go, but never stay. Fucking them is convenient. Sometimes, the sensation left by their warm skin pressed against mine lingers longer than I’d deem comfortable and safe, but no one broke my heart again. Mom keeps telling me that my decision to never marry after what happened is breaking hers. She prays for me every Sunday, but she never understood. My father is like a domesticated chamois. A former mountaineer, tamed by a local beauty. Now he spends more time chopping wood and fixing old pipes. He says his knees hurt, but I know he’s happy down here with her. I like men who are just as wild as the wolves running over these hills, but to actually love them is a slow and painful suicide. I barely recovered from the first one. The next would also be the last. 

My dad has been a caretaker of Villa Eulalia for as long as I remember, and even before. I grew up here, surrounded by wild nature and the people who tried to monetize it. Later, my parents bought the building and Eulalia became our family business. It’s much more than that, though. It’s home. Surrounded by new, modern and luxurious hotels owned by townspeople who don’t know this place at all, we’re old residents who offer shelter to those searching for peace here. 

There are generally two kinds of people who come to Zakopane: vacationers and explorers. We don’t offer nice views, jacuzzis and sparkling wine. We will – however – make you breakfast at 5 am.. Whether you want to explore the hiking trails that belong to all or hidden places in your mind that are your own, we are your people. We are the same. 

I couldn’t imagine my life to be any different. I had been climbing these hills since I’d learned to walk. I went to Krakow to get my master’s degree in tourism management, I travelled a bit, made some new friends and even considered some other life options for a while, but I came back eventually. I missed the fresh air and the soapy smell of mountain grass. I needed to be here. 

I was also needed here. With my parents getting older and my younger sister having a family of her own in her cozy city home, I became a maid, a receptionist, a cook, a webmaster and an occasional mountain guide. My parents don’t speak English. Well, not much, anyway. They know a few phrases, so they can greet our visitors and ask them about their day, secretly praying that they wouldn’t really want to answer those questions. Most of them don’t…unless they’re young and handsome. Those talk to me, though. 

We didn’t have any foreign visitors at first, but later they slowly started coming. It was my sister’s job to take care of them at first, with me being away most of the time back then. But later, with three young kids, she couldn’t – and no longer wanted to – keep doing that any longer. So I came back and took over. 

In August, the holiday season is in full swing. I didn’t have a day off since early July and really needed to get out and clear my mind a bit. I can’t stay in town all summer, not when the paradise is literally just a few steps away. This morning seemed like a perfect opportunity. There were no planned checkouts for today, I already managed to get all the rooms for all the new expected guests cleaned and ready the day before and most of them were locals, with one Slovak family arriving later in the afternoon. Dad should be able to take care of that. 

While I was sipping my morning coffee, I checked the mailbox one last time just to be sure everything would be taken care of while I was away, only to discover there were two new last minute reservations. Kováčová…some Slovak lady with two more people who wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon, room 8. That one’s also ready. I vacuum-cleaned it two days ago. So, that should be OK. Aaand, the attic room for…some Kiszka. Perfect. I took one last sip, grabbed my backpack and was ready to go. 

Agnieszka wasn’t in a hurry, knowing too well that her muscles would hurt like hell the next day if she didn’t take it easy. She was fit enough to set a much faster pace, but this was not a workout. Not today. In mid august, the former sheep pastures in Hala Gasienicowa were in full bloom and covered in violet. It was also a rather steep route that led there so even though she reached the place at half past nine, she could already feel a familiar burning sensation in her calves. 

This was a perfect place for late breakfast. Yesterday’s wind was gone and once she got past the tree line, the sun was already high up in the sky, warming her skin enough to let her shed all the unnecessary layers of clothing. “Bathing in the breeze” was her favourite pastime. There was no better way to describe it. It was also still early enough to be able to enjoy the calmness of this place, which would be buzzing with life only an hour or so later as more people arrived. 

It was already past noon when she reached the borderline ridge at a beautiful spot called “Lily Saddle” that separated High and Western Tatras – her final destination for the day. Most people aim for peaks, but she always loved mountain saddles and ridge routes. Reaching them wasn’t easy. You always had to overcome steep, rocky and often exposed tracks to get there. By the time you reached the saddle, you were high on endorphins and adrenaline, your whole body overheated from exertion, only to be greeted by icy wind that kept rumbling up there even during the hottest days of the year, sometimes tossing you from side to side like a rag doll. It was like falling in love…

She usually felt at peace here, even when she had to literally wrestle with the element. Not today. Today, she felt agitated. It started further down the road and intensified exponentially as she reached the saddle. She contemplated going further west along the ridge to calm her nerves a bit, when her telephone rang. It took her a while to find it in her bag, but the caller seemed super determined. 

“Dad?”

“Neszka, where are you? An American just arrived… Apparently, he’s got a reservation. I need to house him.”

That must have been a mistake, she went through the reservations. Someone probably arrived at the wrong hotel. There were several of them called Villa Something Something in Zakopane… 

“Daddy, that’s impossible. I double checked. We’re expecting a small German group on Saturday, but otherwise no foreign guests.”

“I’m not making this up. He’s here in front of me and I see him in our reservation system as well.”

“Name?”

“Joshua Kiszka.” 

Fuck… That was probably why she felt so uneasy? Never underestimate your gut. Her subconsciousness knew she fucked up. 

“Ok, get him on the phone.” She took a deep breath, expecting an outpouring of anger, the person on the other side berating her and demanding an explanation. Some people had the weirdest reasons for complaints and refund reasons, and this situation clearly was her fault. 

Instead, the voice belonging to a young man sounded amused. He, too, tried to explain the situation he found himself in, even though there was no need for him to explain anything. With the wind gushing and roaring around and the service being shitty up here, she couldn’t even hear him properly, so – after what she hoped was the most heartfelt apology she could deliver – she tried to make it as brief as possible. 

“Ok, listen, my father – that’s the man you tried to talk to – my dad will show you your room. Just…. make yourself comfortable, there’s a large garden behind the villa and free beverages in the fridge outside your room… You will find it with ease… And I’ll be there in three hours at the very worst. Then I’ll show you around and will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept much at night so I’ll probably just take a nap. All I need is a bed to lie on…if it’s ready,” he chuckled again.

Fuck. With that, she took a few big gulps of water and started descending. 

It was past four in the afternoon when she got back home, hot and sweating and out of breath, but the shower could wait. She stopped briefly by the kitchen to ask dad how well it went and then headed straight to the attic floor, taking stairs two at a time. She knocked on the door and…nothing. She had to repeat it two more times – at least it gave her the opportunity to catch her breath – before the door finally creaked open. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I kept you waiti…oh!”

The man who answered the door was unlike anything she had expected. He was approximately the same height as her, slender, not overly muscular but still well toned. She could tell quite easily, because he was in fact naked from the waist up, rubbing his sleepy eyes and smiling at her while still trying to shake off the post nap confusion. 

She didn’t realize that she was staring until he spoke, and took a few steps back inside the room, basically letting her in. “Uh, oh, sorry, it’s a bit hot here under the roof, he chuckled again as he picked up a basic t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. “And you must be the charming lady I spoke to on the phone earlier?” 

He looked like someone straight from DaVinci’s painting…if DaVinci lived in some arty, boho community instead of a 15th century Milan: fine features, rosy cheeks, kind yet mysterious eyes, plump lips and soft curls with trimmed sides and a messy braid that ended between his shoulder blades, decorated with a tiny shell. 

“Uuuh, yeah, yes, that’s me. I tried to get here as soon as possible, but it took longer than I expected and…”

“Please, don’t apologize. I see you went hiking. So cool! It must have been absolutely fabulous up there today. You must certainly give me some tips. Where to go, what to see... I heard how beautiful it is here. Saw some pictures too. But I’ve never been here, so I absolutely don’t know what to expect. I will need to buy some clothes and other essentials as well, this was a last minute decision. I helped myself to a beverage from that fridge, by the way. I hope it’s ok. I had peach iced tea…,” he kept on rambling as he tried to clean up the room that already looked lived-in even though he had been here for only a few hours. 

She watched him, completely bewildered. But she already liked him. He was cute and wild and kind of sexy. Strange, but with a pretty face. Two weeks. He’s alone…yeah, and you’re sweaty, red faced and you stink, you idiot!

“…me around?” 

She realized he was still talking, when put her back to earth. “What?” That chuckle again…

“You told me you’d show me around. I got my key, I know where the drinks are, I saw the garden, it’s fanTAStic, by the way…so, what else do I need to know?” he asked cheekily. 

That put her back into her professional mode. She explained that she wouldn’t clean the room more that once a week unless he would specifically ask her to do so, privacy being held in high regard here…; she showed him where to find extra toilet paper and fresh towels, where to throw the dirty ones; she showed him the kitchen he had to share with several other rooms, told him about free tea and coffee and that he shouldn’t bother with washing the dishes, he should just leave them in the sink and she would take care of it. She also told him where to buy everything he needed and she had to bite her lip a few times when he absentmindedly touched her arm. 

Later in the early evening, Agnieszka still couldn't shake off that unfamiliar restlessness she felt back up on the ridge. It lay heavy on her chest, compressing her lungs. She tried to read, but it was no use. Reading was a distraction fit for dark and rainy evenings, but the cloudless sky didn’t want the night to take over just yet. Even here, among steep hills where the sun sets early, the skies were still ultramarine blue and… vast. 

The warm light on her bedside table wasn’t enough to disperse the magic of the blue hour. Instead of trying to reread the same paragraph for the third time, she put the book down and opened the window to let the cool and fragrant air in. 

As soon as the scent of pines and freshly mown grass hit her nostrils, she also heard a soft hum coming from below. Looking down, she saw him sitting on a wooden garden table, with his feet on the bench. He had his back to her, sipping beer, his fingers rapping on the withered wood. He was also the source of that slow melody. 

It reminded her of Dominik. He used to sit by the fireside, farther back in the garden. His guitar was often out of tune and people made fun of him, but he always just smiled and continued to play. It often baffled her that he didn’t mind, because it sounded awful, and he must have heard it. The man could sing! 

Apparently, so could Joshua, but it was something completely different. Dominik’s voice was low and thick, and when he hummed her favourite songs, such as Sad Eyes, it often made her drowsy. Joshua sounded like the girls singing old local folk songs about dying from a broken heart. She had never heard anything like that. He sang silently, as he obviously did not want to disturb the calmness of dusk, as well as other guests behind their own open windows. Yet it made her heart flutter in her throat. 

She watched, entranced, how his breath animated the muscles of his lean back, covered only in sheer white cotton in spite of the air getting increasingly chillier with every passing minute. 

Agnieszka tried to lean out the window a bit more, which made the shutter crash against the wall, causing him to look her way. She panicked and ducked under the sill. Realizing how childish it must have appeared, she slowly straightened and saw him still looking in her direction, smiling. He gestured to the second can of beer standing on the table next to him and silently motioned her to join him. 

She took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed her cardigan, closed the window and went out to join him, oblivious to the fact that the way down the stairs and out the back entrance which led straight to the garden was in reality a steep, rocky road to ruin. 

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[licorice-and-rum]

On Fascism, DEs and Dumbledore - the actual essay lol

Hey, guys! Sorry it took me so long to write this one, I really had some themes to mature before I could put all of my thoughts in writing but I finally feel like I’m ready to talk about what I want to. Before I begin, however, I want to point out a few things:

First of all, I ask all of you to enter this with an open mind because not everything I’ll say here is exactly popular opinion in the HP fandom. And, although I recognize that my perceptions and interpretations are frayed by my own background and way of thinking, my literary analysis is still based off, on some level, of academical knowledge. It doesn’t make it true, of course, but I believe it’s a solid base to have.

Second, this is, in no way, an attack on people who like the Death Eaters (Barty, Regulus, Rosier, Draco, and so on). These people are not the problem I’m talking about here because, to begin with, the characters they like are not exactly the Canon version of them, and then, because a work of fiction doesn’t determine a person’s character.

It's completely normal for popular works of fiction — and that’s especially true in Literature — to have their characters remodeled to fit a better narrative to the time they are inserted in. It happens with Fairytales, it happens with classical books — Sherlock Holmes is one of the greatest examples I can give —, it just happens. And the new interpretations are an attempt to almost self-insert: is a mirroring of our interpretations and experiences in those characters we like so much.

That said, I still have a problem with how normalized it has become in our society to make a sad backstory to fascist-like villains and that’s where I would like to start this rant/analysis. This issue is not focused on the Harry Potter characters, however: it has happened in Star Wars (both with Anakin and more recently with The Acolyte), in The Hunger Games (with Snow, although it wasn’t the intention) and many other big films/books/series in the industry.

It has a reason: we’re living through late-stage capitalism, which means capitalism is in shambles and it needs a “emergency button” of sorts, something it can use to establish some kind of control back. That’s why we’ve seen so many far-right parties win elections lately: it’s a normal thing for people to be attracted to fast and simple solutions when things are bad, even though they might not be solutions at all.

Anyway, I digress: the point is, when fascism (capitalism’s emergency button) arises, it needs to have a cultural support so that people can assimilate it better, accept it better so it can maintain itself. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not, by all means, saying that a bunch of men sat down on a white room and decided that now they would start creating Art that endorses/romanticizes fascist narratives, of course not.

This is a natural process, it happens because we, as a general rule, already lean into right wing theorical thinking by living into a capitalist mode of production. So, when capitalism collapses, many of us pull our values farthest into capitalistic mindset because that’s what we understand as secure, as stable. And this translates into art through some favored tropes or classical narratives, such as the Chosen One or the “the system is not corrupted, the people running it are” narrative.

Both of those tropes fit into the Harry Potter series in obvious ways, of course. But lately, I’ve been noticing a really particular characteristic of these narratives/tropes that are used to endorse fascism, which I believe has to do with the time period we’re at right now and who the target-audience is, and that is what I called the “individualization of narratives”.

I’m not gonna be arrogant here and say that I’m the only one who noticed this, of course not, but I haven’t found any works on that, so I’m gonna describe, in my own words, what I think this phenomenon is:

The individualization of narratives, as I call it, refers to the details some characters’ backgrounds have when they are into the “dark side”, the side that is supposed to be the fictional version of fascist-like groups. And those details — or lack thereof — are done in a way the reader can fill in the gaps in such a way to identify and empathize with them.

Again, that’s is not the problem, this happens to every character ever, it even happens with celebrities. Our brains are wired to fill in gaps in a person’s personality or character when we don’t have all the information, it’s a natural reaction. Problem is that, as it’s becoming popular to write a villain with a purpose, a “morally gray” character if you will (although I take issue with how that’s portrayed, which I’ll treat more carefully when I talk about Dumbledore), the fascist-like narratives that became so popular with post-war people, gain a new meaning.

That’s not the doing of the Art itself, it’s just a reflection of political issues that are already here but that are also perpetrated and continued by Art and material cultural production, just like anti-socialism dystopian books were in the Cold War scenario, for example. However, it’s undeniable that this movement serves a purpose, a political purpose, and that is to endorse fascism and fascist narrative. Let’s not get over ourselves here: again, this is not the evil doing of some unknown entity, it’s just a natural process of the current political climate reflecting in cultural production.

But it still serves a purpose, and what I aim to do with this essay is to demystify a bit this movement in Harry Potter. But first, we have to understand what fascism is:

Capitalism, which begun more or less in the 1600s, is a mode of production (a mold to which our society fit to work within capitalism’s needs of existence). It is based on profit, which means our society is shaped to produce that profit, everything in a society is shaped to serve this purpose, from the industry to our perception of reality — it’s all a capitalism-based ideology.

Again, reminding: that’s not a secret plot to convince people, it’s a natural process of building identity within reality. It happened in feudalism, and before that with Ancient Empires, and so on and on. There’s nothing inheritedly evil in this process.

However, capitalism is a mode of production that demands, in order to continuing to exist, more than society can provide, so it collapses from time to time. The Stock Market Crash of 1929 and the following Great Depression is one of the most striking examples of capitalism collapsing, and it’s not by happenstance that fascism arose right after this collapse.

As I said before, fascism is capitalism’s emergency button: when systems collapse, that’s where they get more vulnerable to radical change, and the extreme hardships the masses had to endure after its collapse in the 1930s could easily signify a chance for a change in the modes of production throughout the occidental countries of Europe — something that couldn’t happen if capitalism was to survive.

What I mean by bringing all this to the essay is that I want to be very clear with what fascism defends and what it means: it’s the supremacy of not only a country, or exaggerated nationalism, it is also the management and upkeeping of a society’s very structure. And, to be even clearer: that society is white, rich, and patriarchal-based.

There’s a reason why fascism is considered a white-supremacy political movement: because it defends capitalism. And capitalism was built over the need of cheap work force.

Many of you may have thought slavery when I said that, and you’d be correct.

However, with the times progression, that changed into a new form of exploration: because of the past with slavery and exploration of resources of colonized countries, it became easier — and also a natural progression from the dehumanizing of non-white communities to justify slavery — to just cheapen the work force by making non-white communities poorer, more vulnerable and more desperate to fulfill their needs.

That forces those communities — and third world countries as a whole — to accept the money and the exploration of not only first-world countries (colonizer countries) but also big corporations. I could go on and on about all the effects this policy has in non-white communities, from police brutality until the banalization of the violence in large scale (such as the Palestinian genocide) but I want to stay within the scope here.

This justification of slavery, the dehumanization of non-white peoples, is one of the main pillars of capitalism, and as such, it’s the main pillar of fascism. In Harry Potter, the intention is that those characteristics don’t present themselves in race but in blood — not that Rowling is very successful with this, considering the amount of veiled and not-so-veiled racism in her books but whatever.

Now, as I see it, Harry Potter is not a good portrayal of fascism and that has a very clear cause: Rowling’s lack of understanding of what fascism is to begin with, or how the root causes of it affect the system of the wizarding society.

As someone who have studied it, I can say that the blood purity issue wouldn’t be present only in some rich people’s minds, it would be structural to the wizarding world, in a way that would present itself in hardship for muggleborns to get jobs, in jokes that are not funny, in opinions that are degrading, in isolation and discrimination in a day to day level. And of course, there is some of it in the HP books, but it’s not treated as a structural issue — it’s treated as an individual problem.

And that’s where the real problem begins: if we treat fascism as a problem that stems from a person’s own choices instead of a political and collective movement that elevates to a highest level the structural issues that are already there, we fall into the trap of minimizing the problem because, if someone is a fascist because they’re evil, the next question to make is: why are they evil?

Currently, what we’re doing with our villains becomes a problem in these situations: in an attempt to individualize our villains, we make them human. Human in the sense that we can empathize with them, we can understand them. And, for a fascist-like narrative, that’s extremely dangerous because it makes us unconsciously start to endorse their trajectories and choices when we absolutely shouldn’t.

Fascism is not equivalent to rebelliousness.

“Oh, the good side is not so good because they treated this character bad and now he had to turn to a fascist group and decimate people because he’s traumatized.”

See how, when I say it like that, it sounds ridiculous?

But of course, you probably know that. Again, I’m not accusing people who like those characters of endorsing fascism, what I am saying, however, is that the political climate of today is doing it and it’s reflecting on our art production. What I am calling for is for people to recognize that their view of those characters as they really would be if they were anywhere near reality is not only flawed, it’s entirely wrong.

Snape, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Draco, Bellatrix, the Blacks as a whole — they are not the abused little teenagers who had no choice but to join the Death Eaters. They are fascists, they have always been fascists, even when they suffered. And sure, to some of them, there is more to their characters than this but the truth remains that they, in some capacity, not only endorsed a fascist narrative, they actively perpetuated it to the detriment and the suffering of marginalized peoples.

And none of them had a good, believable, and more importantly, complete redeeming arc.

Our interpretations of them are cool, I love it, I prefer them to many HP characters, to be honest. But that doesn’t change the fact that, if HP was a little bit more real, a little bit closer to reality, those characters wouldn’t be bullied teenagers forced into fascism as a means to become powerful enough to escape their abuse — as if that makes it so much better —, they’d be incels, they’d be bullies themselves.

And that’s not an opinion: we, as a fandom, tend to forget that the DEs are the ones with real societal power in the wizarding world. Most of them are purebloods, most of them are rich, most of them are friends with rich and pureblooded wizards, and they are privileged. They are not ostracized as we like to imagine, they are royalty.

For them, to fight for blood purity is to fight for their own benefit, is to fight to maintain the pillars that keep them unaccountable for their behaviors and privilege whilst at the same time, pushing marginalized people — muggleborns, fantastical creatures, even half-bloods — to a dehumanizing condition. And they don’t feel sorry for this.

Now, the truth is that this is partially Rowling’s fault: her lack of understanding of how deep the issues she’s portraying really run makes it possible for her to interpret her own characters as redeemable because they somehow exchange sides when it fits them.

That’s mostly seen with the Malfoys: neither Draco, Narcissa, nor Lucius ever change sides because they see the suffering of others and think of it as wrong. They change sides when Voldemort’s cruelty starts to weigh on them — their change of loyalties are not coming from empathy for marginalized peoples or decency, it comes from self-preservation.

Kind of the same thing with Snape (I wrote some essays focused on Snape, so if anyone is interested, here’s the first, then the second).

Now, of course, that’s not to say those characters weren’t abused on someway or suffered but that’s the thing: no abuse in the world justifies the persecution, torture and killing of innocent people. To offer a counterpoint, the marginalized peoples the Death Eaters persecuted are also traumatized in some, they also can have had abusive parents and/or families but that is not taken into account when we talk about the Death Eater’s own traumas.

The narrative that the Death Eaters were abused their whole childhoods is so strong today in fandom that most people don’t stop to think that those teenagers probably were horrible people. Yes, maybe horrible because some of them were abused, I’m not denying that, but still horrible, which means they wouldn’t accept help. To hold them responsible for their own doings and their own privileges would seem for them as a persecution against them — just like fascist-like narratives often portray pro-LGBTQ+ or non-white policies and/or narratives.

It is also one of the reasons I take issue with the Slytherin portrayal of abused kids ostracized by the rest of the school. It’s really just isolating fascist narrative and only partially based on truth but I don’t think I want to stretch this conversation now (I can write more about it later if you want though).

So no, respectfully, I refuse to accept that those people — mostly men and rich people, I am forced to point out — would be anything but disgusting, and that’s where I take issue with some behaviors within the HP fandom. Because we’re being influenced by almost two decades of fan fiction and the current political climate, it’s very often that I find people who are sincerely incapable of dissociating fandom to canon.

Hence, the actually infuriating villainization of Albus Dumbledore.

Now, that’s a topic that makes me impatient AF. Not only because it is based on a strong fetishization of who Dumbledore really was, and what he could and couldn’t do, but also because it is a clear example of most people’s inability to differentiate between what they’re reading for fun and what they are internalizing from that media.

Let’s begin with that: Dumbledore is not some evil mastermind, and he is not equivalent to Voldemort. He is a flawed character, that’s true, but he is not a villain. And to think so is to play into the narrative that, because the “good side” fails, or makes wrong decisions, or even actively makes bad decisions, or immoral decisions in times of war, that is somehow equivalent to the “bad side”.

It is not.

That narrative is the same narrative that allows Israel to build an equivalence between Hamas’ violent acts and their own when in truth, as reproachable as some Hamas’ decisions may be according to various perspectives, their violence is a reaction to heavy and even more violent oppression.

What I mean is, even if Dumbledore failed in some of his decision-making in the Harry Potter books, even if we may believe we could do better, Dumbledore is a true morally gray character. But first, to make the point I want to make, we have to understand him:

For this, I will first separate his two identities as they appear throughout Harry Potter: as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Dumbledore plays a role as a leader and role model, but he is also a person with flaws and mistakes like anyone else. These are the two main “faces” of Albus Dumbledore for this defense post, so now let's analyze them more closely:

The first "face" we see of Dumbledore is that of the leader, and this is primarily because of Harry who, at eleven years old, sees Dumbledore as the kind of man he would like to emulate. This also happens with many other wizards throughout the story: it's clear to anyone that most of the people within Harry’s personal circle like and admire Dumbledore, while those who despise him are often the “bad” characters (Lucius Malfoy is probably one of the earliest examples of this).

Although that doesn’t mean they are somehow starstruck by the headmaster: Sirius, Snape, the Weasley parents, Moody, even James and Lily, they all question Dumbledore and his decision making at some point in the books. They end up following through more times than not, that’s true, but trust in someone is different than blind-faith. Those characters accept Dumbledore’s leadership because they trust him, not because they think he’s some type of a god.

However, we see things through Harry’s point of view, and Harry is a child who has no parents, no model figures, no one who really supports that role to him until his eleventh year. It's easy, then, to see how the leader face Dumbledore presents is one of someone the characters (and readers) can trust not to fail, and even easier to view him as someone with great power. This is the fandom’s biggest mistake in viewing him.

Shall we now remember a bit of Dumbledore’s history and delve into his personal side?

As a young man, he met Grindelwald and, according to J.K. Rowling, fell in love with him, as well as with his goal of seeking the Deathly Hallows and becoming the most powerful wizards of all time. 

In the last Harry Potter book, in the King's Cross chapter, Dumbledore himself confesses to Harry how the desire for power blinded him to what was truly important, how power was his greatest weakness, and therefore what made him unworthy of it. This is why Dumbledore remained as the headmaster of Hogwarts when he could have so easily become more important in the wizarding community (besides, of course, his love for the students): to keep himself away from power.

Here's the quote (It might be a bit different in the original, considering I’m translating it from Portuguese):

“‘I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory... Invincible Masters of Death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore!... The years passed. There were rumors about him. They said he had obtained a wand of immense power. Meanwhile, I was offered the position of Minister for Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I learned that I could not be trusted with power.’

‘But you'd have been better than Fudge or Scrimgeour!’ said Harry.

‘Would I?’ asked Dumbledore heavily. ‘I am not so sure. I proved as a very young man that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.’”

This is what the fandom most fails to understand: the admiration of wizards for Dumbledore makes him influential, but not powerful, and this becomes especially clear during the end of The Goblet of Fire and throughout The Order of the Phoenix.

One of the first signs of this in the fourth book is when Fudge refuses to believe Dumbledore about Voldemort’s return: let's remember that, until that point, Fudge sought Dumbledore’s advice for his decisions as Minister of Magic precisely because the headmaster had the respect of much of the wizarding population. But when Fudge, who has the actual power, puts his foot down and says that Dumbledore no longer has influence over the Ministry’s choices, Dumbledore lacks the power to deny it, to stop it.

If he did, it would be safe to say that he would have used his power over the Ministry to convince everyone that Voldemort had indeed returned, and more, to mobilize the Ministry against Voldemort. But none of this happens simply because Dumbledore does not have that power.

Thus, it becomes easier to differentiate power from influence.

It’s Fudge’s power that causes the Ministry as an organization and the wizarding media to turn against the Headmaster, and Dumbledore doesn’t have the power to stop it, but he has enough influence to still be heard by part of the wizarding population. It’s Fudge’s power that leads to Harry’s expulsion from Hogwarts at the beginning of Order of the Phoenix, but it’s Dumbledore’s influence that convinces the Ministry to agree to a trial, and it’s his influence that moves the people present to listen to his defense of Harry during that trial. If Dumbledore had power over these events, Harry wouldn’t even have had a trial — something the Headmaster categorically calls an absurdity.

Therefore, Dumbledore doesn’t have power; he has influence, and there’s a difference between what he can actually do and what the fandom seems to believe he can do. Dumbledore has no power over the Ministry; he can’t boss anyone around except, perhaps, the Hogwarts staff and the Order of the Phoenix, a group whose members agreed to make him leader.

What he really has are people willing to listen to his advice and thoughts, as well as inclined to follow him, but that doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily do everything Dumbledore says (Sirius, anyone?).

It’s important to separate these two concepts for this analysis to continue because it will make Dumbledore’s actions make much more sense in this discussion. That said, let’s now begin to analyze “The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore”:

The main criticisms I see regarding Dumbledore revolve around Harry’s life and the decisions the Headmaster made concerning him.

Before I begin, however, I want to point out that, despite Dumbledore’s flaws, he is still a leader (just like Harry), and as a leader, he bears responsibility for the lives of the people he has chosen to protect (just like Harry). It’s important to keep this in mind so that I can highlight a few things later.

So, let’s start with when the prophecy is heard and Voldemort begins hunting Harry instead of Neville. It’s important to emphasize here that, once a prophecy is made in the Harry Potter universe and the people the prophecy is about start acting according it, it’s going to happen; there’s no way around it, or at least that’s what we’re told as canon. That’s why, as soon as the prophecy is made and Voldemort actively choses to hunt them down, everyone knows that Harry (or Neville) will be the one to face Voldemort, and one of them will die — hopefully Voldemort.

Although he’s the one to whom the prophecy was made, Dumbledore has no control over it: there’s no way to avoid the fact that Harry (or Neville) would face Voldemort at some point in their lives once Snape overhears it and tells Voldemort. All he — and everyone else — can do is give the Chosen One the tools and knowledge necessary to face Voldemort with the best possible chance of winning — which he does later on by becoming Harry’s primary mentor.

Then the Potters are “chosen” and go into hiding in Godric’s Hollow, making Peter the Secret Keeper. Some more information on this choice: Dumbledore offered to be the Secret Keeper, but James and Lily refused and preferred to choose Sirius. However, they switched to Peter without telling anyone, not even Dumbledore. This is another thing I see the fandom complaining about a lot, but it’s explicitly canon that no one besides Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter knew about the switch.

This wasn’t because they didn’t trust Dumbledore, but because Albus was in the middle of the storm as one of Voldemort’s biggest targets. The Potters didn’t reject Dumbledore as their Secret Keeper because they didn’t trust him (they wouldn’t even be in the Order if that were the case, don’t you think?), but because they were thinking primarily of Harry’s safety, and placing their family’s safety in the hands of the second biggest target of Voldemort in that war simply doesn’t seem like a wise move.

So, there’s no reason, even up to the third book, for Dumbledore to suspect that Sirius is innocent and try to intervene to get him some kind of trial or chance to explain himself. There’s no indication that Dumbledore had contact with Sirius before he was sent to Azkaban, so how could the Headmaster be blamed for that?

Again, it’s important to emphasize that Dumbledore has influence.

Even if he wanted Sirius to have a trial, there’s no evidence that he could make it happen, since everything pointed to Sirius as the culprit — remembering that there’s a big difference between a trial for underage magic and the murder of thirteen Muggles, plus the whole Secret Keeper and high-profile situation. In fact, it’s also good to remember that as soon as Dumbledore learns the truth, he does everything in his power — even sending Harry and Hermione back in time — to save Sirius from being kissed by the Dementors.

But going back a bit, a week after Peter becomes the Secret Keeper, he reveals the Potters’ location to Voldemort, and on Halloween night in 1981, Voldemort goes to Godric’s Hollow and kills James, then Lily, then tries to kill Harry but fails.

This event needs to be broken down into two parts. The first is about Lily’s protection: when she chooses to die even though Voldemort gave her a chance to live, Lily protects Harry, and that’s the reason he survives that encounter with the Dark Lord, who also “dies.”

Since the fourth book, there’s a very specific characteristic of this protection that’s seen many times but never explicitly stated, which is the fact that Lily’s protection has a blood-related nature. In other words, Lily’s protection is especially tied to blood, which is why Voldemort chose Harry’s blood to resurrect himself: because in that way, he also “has” Lily’s blood and, consequently, her protection, which frees him to harm Harry in a way he couldn’t before.

And this is the point I want to reach: Dumbledore chooses the Dursleys to raise Harry not because he wants him to suffer, but because Petunia is the only one who carries Lily’s blood and, therefore, the only one who can ensure that Lily’s protection — the thing for which her sister died — continues to work. The blood Petunia shares with Lily even prevents Voldemort, even after the resurrection ritual, because her blood makes Lily’s protection even stronger.

And it’s good to remember that this measure ends up saving Harry in The Philosopher’s Stone — Quirrell and Voldemort couldn’t touch him because of Lily’s protection, guaranteed by his living in the same house as Petunia — and keeps him safe in the Dursleys’ house for sixteen years, until Harry turns seventeen and the protection finally stops working, even though he still lived with Petunia.

Once again, people overestimate Dumbledore’s ability to act: he had no control over the nature of Lily’s protection; he acted to keep Harry as safe as possible within what he could actually control.

Unfortunately, the choices presented in that situation were either to leave him protected from Voldemort’s assassination attempts or spare him the suffering of growing up with the Dursleys.

Neither choice was ideal, but this is where Dumbledore’s leadership character comes in: Harry’s responsibility to face Voldemort was no longer a choice, even though he was only a year old, because of the prophecy. So, it makes much more sense for him to protect Harry from the greater threat (Voldemort) while ensuring that Harry would have more time to develop and grow before having to face him again.

Dumbledore didn’t make the choice to give Harry to the Dursleys joyfully, wanting him to suffer, but thinking about giving him more time and more opportunities to be a child than he would have had if Lily’s protection weren’t ensured. Obviously, this doesn’t work out very well because the Dursleys are especially cruel to Harry in a way that Dumbledore hadn’t really foreseen, something he himself admits in The Half-Blood Prince:

“‘[...] Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already tried to kill on several occasions, is in much more danger than on the day I left him on your doorstep, fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining that his parents had been murdered and expressing the hope that you would care for him as a son.’

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and did not betray his anger, Harry felt a certain coldness emanating from him. He also noticed that the Dursleys huddled together almost imperceptibly.

‘You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. In your care, he has only known neglect and often cruelty...’”

But it’s important to note that Dumbledore didn’t have good options regarding Harry’s custody; he didn’t have the power to change how Lily’s protection worked; he was working with what he had, which wasn’t much.

The second part of this event focuses more on Voldemort and Harry and is probably the most controversial regarding Dumbledore: the creation of the Horcrux inside Harry and how this is somehow seen as Dumbledore’s fault — hence the famous phrase about being “raised like a pig for slaughter,” but... let’s be honest? What, exactly, could Dumbledore have done against the fact that Harry became a Horcrux?

Once again, here’s the exaggerated view of Dumbledore’s power that the fandom seems to have: he had no control over what happened to the Potters in Godric’s Hollow on Halloween night in 1981. He had no power over Lily’s protection or the Horcrux in Harry. He has no power over Lily’s protection, nor over the Horcrux in Harry. The only thing he has the power to do is to act in a way that ensures his plan guarantees Voldemort’s ultimate defeat and thus saves the entire wizarding world.

I hate it when people say Dumbledore “raised Harry like a pig for slaughter” simply because he knew that Harry would have to die for the Horcrux to be destroyed, as if he had any other option in the matter. Harry’s fate was sealed as soon as Lily’s protection saved him and a part of Voldemort’s soul entered him; Dumbledore bears no responsibility for what happened that night.

So what Dumbledore can do regarding Harry having to die is exactly… nothing. He literally has no power to change this fact, no matter how much he wants to — and he does, because he loves Harry, as he himself says in Order of the Phoenix. But Dumbledore is still a leader, and he still needs to think about the best plan of action to ensure that people continue to have hope and that they can truly see that hope — of being free from Voldemort and his reign of terror — come true. And if that meant Harry had to die to destroy the Horcrux, then that was it. Period.

But it’s also important to point out that Dumbledore didn’t force Harry into anything: by the time Harry receives the information that he needs to die to ensure the salvation of everyone and Voldemort’s mortality, all the people who know this — Dumbledore and Snape, in this case — are dead and unable to do anything if Harry decided to simply run away and leave everyone to fend for themselves because he didn’t want to die.

But, as I pointed out before, Harry is a leader. And he fully accepts the responsibility of this role the moment he decides to face death: he goes to Voldemort willing to die by his own choice, wanting to save those who matter to him, those who trust him to end Voldemort. Not because Dumbledore ordered him, but because he — Harry — is a leader, and a leader sacrifices himself for his cause when necessary.

Saying that Dumbledore was the “cause” of Harry’s death, besides being wrong, also takes away from the greatness of Harry’s choice in that situation. Harry is the protagonist of his own story, and he is always making decisions based on his own mind and beliefs (going after the Philosopher’s Stone, entering the Chamber of Secrets, sparing Pettigrew, going after Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, pursuing the Horcruxes, etc.), so it’s completely unfair for people to place the responsibility for his choice to die on Dumbledore’s shoulders just because the Headmaster gave him the information that Harry was a Horcrux. Harry always acted according to his own mind based on the information he had been given — why would it be any different with the Horcrux inside him?

It simply wouldn’t be. Dumbledore gave the information, but it was Harry who decided what to do with it.

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that Dumbledore didn’t tell Harry about having to die to destroy the Horcrux inside him earlier because (a) Harry was a child, and (b) Dumbledore didn’t want to take away Harry’s hope. Additionally, after the fourth book, there was still the possibility that Harry could survive because, by performing the resurrection ritual, Voldemort intertwined his life with Harry’s, thus giving Harry a chance not to die when allowing the Horcrux to be destroyed. So why would Dumbledore tell a teenager that he would have to die at some point in the future… if there was a chance Harry might come back? It seems (to me, at least) like an unnecessary cruelty to place that burden on someone for so long.

So the biggest issue I see with the fandom in relation to Dumbledore is the belief that he had power over things that were completely beyond his reach. Dumbledore was a leader doing the best he could with what he had, within the limitations presented to him and his own experience.

Moreover, it’s admirable that Dumbledore had such a dark and flawed past and acknowledged each of his mistakes, always acting to ensure that he wouldn’t repeat them. It was the events of his adolescence that led him to always remember to value what truly mattered: love and people. He grew through his own pain, through the consequences of his own mistakes; he never forgot or repressed what happened to Ariana — which would certainly have been much easier — but instead, he used that painful event to become a better person.

That’s a morally gray character, that’s someone who had been stuck between a rock and a hard place and did what he thought was best, that’s a character who did the best he could with what he was given. And I really don’t like how fascist-like characters are more often than not considered more complex because of trauma than characters like Dumbledore.

But I guess that’s a bit because we can actually empathize with them better by being convinced that they didn’t have a choice, or that they were somehow forced into those choices even if they really didn’t want to and that might be the case, but to be honest, after seeing what fascist narratives do to marginalized people, I can’t say I care much about it. Anyway, be my guest to comment on my analysis but please be kind, I won’t engage in rage baits nor Zionists, Free Palestine loves <3

[jade-parcels]

Fatherly Instincts 2

Back by popular demand, one year later, we’ll once again look into how genshin men would be as dads! Since classes and projects are taking up a majority of my time, I haven’t been very active…but this was so fun to write in the time I have during break! Thank you for your patience! 🐦

Fatherly Instincts <3 With: Albedo, Tighnari, Neuvillette, and Itto <3

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Albedo isn’t the best at showing emotion in his facial expressions. He keeps a blank face most of the time but for his child, he’ll smile more frequently- though this ‘smile’ is just the slightest upturn of his lips. Your kiddo quickly took a liking to your special kamera from Fontaine and has loved posing for pictures! Bedo has become a victim to the camera phase himself because his sweet little baby has learned ‘cheese’. He hears “Pa! Cheese!” about ten times a day and every time, he’ll smile for his kid. Does he like smiling with his teeth? Not really. Does he think he looks silly in the photos? For sure. However, he knows that imaginative play and loving, parental interaction is integral for his child’s development. So if that means he has to smile, he will smile. And when he finds his kiddo’s stash of photos of you and him… he can’t help but get sentimental. He sees himself from his kid’s perspective :’)

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“See? I told you not to run ahead. This is what happens when you don’t look where you’re going” Tighnari shakes his head, kneeling down in the dirt with his bawling toddler. His ears twitch with the loud screeches but he isn’t bothered. Before he gets to work dressing the wound (it’s hardly a scratch at all) he holds his kiddo close until they stop crying. Tighnari’s dad senses kicked in when he started caring for Collei and he uses that prior experience now. He’s a natural at healing wounds and caring for those in need. Before his kiddo was able to SPRINT ahead of him in the woods, he was able to prevent accidents by baby proofing your shared home. All corners are covered with foam, all dangerous objects locked away, all hunting gear kept on high shelves. His quick, fox reflexes helped him catch his baby when they first where learning to walk! But now that they’re extremely mobile, he has to kiss a lot of scraped knees and make a lot of ‘healing pudding’ aka, a simple sweet treat to help them forget about their boo-boo :) oldest trick in the book.

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Though he has dozens of daughters already, he still finds parenthood difficult at times. Neuvillette felt out of his depth when he held your baby for the first time. Melusines are not born this small, this fragile… This…. Fussy. The two of you quickly found out that this baby simply does not want to sleep at night. Neuvillette, the gentleman that he is, insists that you stay in bed while he tends to the baby during these late nights. One night, He felt a sense of sadness, it flowed slowly into his chest like a rising tide. Perhaps he felt bad for you, felt inadequate as a father, he couldn’t really place the emotion. In his own restlessness, it began to rain. While any other time he would worry about creating a storm, it seems that this one was a blessing in disguise. After hours of fussing and crying, the baby stopped. The low rumble of thunder, soft patter of rain on the windows… it soothes his child. Since that day, he will bring forth light rain during the night to ensure a peaceful rest for his family. And when the newspapers start to report on this strange weather phenomenon? He pretends he doesn’t know a thing about it. One day they will grow out of needing the rain but for now, he enjoys being able to provide for the child he loves so dearly.

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Itto is known for his loud laughter and goofy personality. He can be forgetful at times or too-over the-top but he knows when to be calm. His poor children, half oni as they are, start to grow their horns at a young age. Their horns start out as bumps on their foreheads and as they get older, the horns break through the skin much like teeth do when they grow in for the first time. You don’t have any experience in this field, all you can do is ice their heads and offer warm hugs. During days where their horns hurt, Itto steps in to cheer them up. With ice packs in hand, he wraps their heads with colorful ribbons and bandages, making a crown of sorts. He compliments their new headgear, telling them how royal they look! Soon enough, the horn pain is forgotten and the kiddos toddle off to play once again as their headaches dissipate. You don’t miss the look of fondness in your oni husband’s eyes. He hesitates before wrapping the remaining ribbon around your head “Well… Gotta deck you out in some sick headgear too right babe?” what a dork oh jeeeez.

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🐦You can find part one here <3

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[ragingadhd]

Will and Alyss are trans here’s my essay

We talk a lot about how funny it is that Flanagan unintentionally wrote the gayest love story between Halt and Crowley in TEY, but holy shit we don’t talk enough about how he also managed to accidentally write the two most trans characters ever.

Alyss and Will being trans is a semi-popular headcanon that’s been in the fandom for ages now, but I haven’t seen many people really dive into why this headcanon is so prevalent. I think that partially has to do with the fact that, like any lgbtq+ identity, it’s pretty difficult to clock someone as trans without relying on trans stereotypes. Really, any character in the RA series could be trans if you chose to believe it since being trans doesn’t look any certain way. That being said, I do think there are some pretty clear qualities and experiences that Will and Alyss have that feel very close to my own experience with being transgender.

Physical appearance is usually the first thing people point out/notice when talking about this headcanon. Will is short, more so than one might expect from a cis man. Alyss is taller than most men and also has a deep voice. I have mixed feelings about people pointing to this as the only reason they think they’re trans. I mean, it makes enough sense for it to be the only reason since one part of being trans is the fact that one’s body doesn’t match their gender identity. What I don’t like about that being the only reason is that there’s so much more to the trans identity and experience than “body don’t match :(“

But that’s the cool thing about Will and Alyss, their physical appearance effects their perception of themselves the same way it does for a trans person (or a cis person really, but it feels much more prevalent in trans people). In the first book, Will is clearly uncomfortable with his height; almost any time it’s brought up, he replies with “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet”, almost defensively. Then, as Will becomes more comfortable with who he is, you can see it bother him less and less. I love this bc it’s exactly what happened with my dysphoria as I transitioned. The more I got to know myself and discover myself, the less my dysphoria bothered me.

As for Alyss, she is so clearly so confident with her appearance. She never tries to hide her height or voice. Although we don’t get to see her journey with those qualities, the way she’s so confident feels like something the earned. It’s something she maybe used to feel insecure about, then decided she gets to decide what femininity means to her. Her height and voice contribute to her elegance and femininity rather than contradict them.

Another thing about Will is his name and how it relates to his identity. I know Flanagan didn’t intend for any of this to be some trans allegory, but goddamn can I relate my trans experience to it. Will grew up without a last name, and you can see how deeply that effects him. It wasn’t just that he was “Will no-name”, he was missing a part of his identity. Hell, he said verbatim “at least you know who you are” to a fucking owl because he felt so confused and unheard (which btw is the most edgy teen thing he ever did).

Though you can see this missing part of his identity bother him less as he gained a support system, it’s still clear that he felt like something was missing. If he didn’t feel like something was missing, he wouldn’t have been so incredibly happy when he became “Will Treaty”. And when he got his last name, you can tell he’s proud, not because he finally has an identity, but because he finally has a name to match the identity he’s spent so long discovering and cultivating. He no longer expresses any sadness or grief that he doesn’t have his father’s last name, because he doesn’t need it to know who he is. He’s Will Treaty, and he’s perfectly happy with being exactly that. This is the most trans-coded naming experience holy shit.

Anyway that’s all I have to say about this (for now at least). Go give your local trans friend a kiss.

[vulpisnocturna]

Itachi x yn,yn is very insecure about herself bc she likes Itachi and she's totally not his type she has short shoulder length hair, she's not that feminine like a little bit occasionally. She's not that intelligent but average. She's Introverted and can be bold sometimes.

I need some comfort I'm feeling very insecure lately🥺 and also I really love your writing keep up the good work 👍

Hi lovely, thank you so much 🤍 you are so so loved. You sound like a lovely person, don’t sell yourself short!

Tags: fluff, insecure reader, Itachi being a lovely person, confession of infatuation, SFW

You sucked in your lips, looking across the room, where Itachi was working on his computer, dark eyes absorbed in his work, long, slender fingers twirling a pencil between them absentmindedly. You quickly averted your eyes when he lifted his and glanced at you, or rather, straight ahead. You just happened to be in his line of sight.

You had liked Itachi for months. Well, everyone in your office liked Itachi. He was a genius, good at everything, always had a clever idea during work meetings, was polite and personable even though he was quite introverted, and to top it all off, he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Sometimes, it felt as though he had a type of attractiveness that made you hold your breath and stare in awe, as if you were looking upon a painting; other times, he looked hot, intense. All sharp lines, long lashes that brushed the tops of his cheeks, well-defined lips, neither full nor thin, a straight nose, slightly upturned at the tip, high cheekbones, eyes of the darkest black. You couldn’t even see his pupils. Not that you’d ever been that close to him to prove that last point.

You sighed, trying to concentrate on your work. Sometimes, you felt as though you had too many shortcomings compared to him. You were sometimes scolded by your boss for not talking enough during meetings, making some mistakes, occasionally drawing raised eyebrows when one of your remarks was a little too bold.

For sure, Itachi would never see you the way you saw him. You’d seen a beautiful woman with long dark hair and a feminine figure wait for him outside of work one day, and the image had stuck in your head. His girlfriend, you thought with a grimace, but your eyes were sad. She’d been so outspoken, you’d happened to overhear her spark a conversation with the other people there like it was natural. Like it didn’t take any effort.

‘Y/n’ you heard and you lifted your head from your workstation, eyes widening as you set them on the object of your desire.

You scrambled around, clearing your throat and straightening up. He gave you a half smile, and you had to muster your willpower to stay focused.

‘Yeah?’

‘I was wondering if you had a minute to go over the last project. I finished early and I have been asked to check up on the others’ he said. You swallowed, nodding slowly, grabbing the file on your desk and walking out of your little squared station. Itachi was tall, but he was not imposing as he walked beside you towards the exit.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked, voice small.

‘Just getting a coffee. You look quite tired, it would help for your concentration’ he said, walking through the corridor and slowing down slightly when he noticed you had to take quick steps to keep up with him.

Your cheeks felt warm. It was one thing to have to go over work with him, quite another to be told between the lines that he thought you weren’t doing a good job at concentrating.

When you got to the cafeteria, Itachi insisted to pay for your coffee, and you accepted after a bit of a back and forth. He stepped outside on the terrace, sipping his black tea and looking at you before he leaned against the railing, the wind ruffling the strands of black hair framing his angular jaw.

‘Y/n… I haven’t been completely honest with you’ he said quietly, his thumb turning the silver ring on his middle finger as if he was slightly unnerved. You looked at him, blinking, trying to understand what he meant.

‘I didn’t want to look at the project. I- have grown attached to you. I like you’ he said, looking at you, his eyes sincere. Your brow furrowed, and even though your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest, you didn’t quite understand. Liked you? But… he had a girlfriend, and you were definitely not like her at all…

‘Why? I’m- not that clever, and you- have a girlfriend, don’t you?’ you stuttered, shifting on your feet, averting your eyes.

‘What makes you think that?’ he asked, tilting his head at you. You blushed, chewing on the corner of your bottom lip.

‘Well- I saw her. The pretty girl with long dark brown hair and a birthmark on her face’ you said, though your words came out of your mouth as though they’d been pulled out with a pair of pliers.

‘Izumi? She’s my cousin’ he said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

His cousin? Well, okay, but you were still convinced you weren’t his type.

‘And my hair’s too short, I’m not that feminine, and you’re so smart and I’m just- like everybody else’ you said, gulping down the lump in your throat.

‘Type? I wouldn’t say I have a type. If I were to have one, it would be you. Not everybody else. And your hair is perfect the way it is. I think you are really beautiful and endearing, y/n. What made you think I would be so shallow as to be attracted to someone for their mere appearance? Besides, I think you’re quite insightful; there are more important things than wits’ he said with a soft exhale, his eyes gentle and kind. You looked at him, a tentative smile spreading across your lips.

‘You really think that? You really like me?’ you asked, and he put his cup on the table next to you, along with yours, straightening up, his eyes boring into yours, intense and warm.

‘Why don’t I show you?’ he asked in a low voice, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with gentle fingers before he cupped your face and brushed his lips against yours. The whole world stopped, and you closed your eyes, feeling the softness of his lips, the way they sought yours out gently but with longing, his warm hands softly tipping your head up as he pressed his mouth against yours. It was everything you’d ever imagined and more.

‘Do you believe me now?’ he asked, his cheeks tinged of a pale pink, his eyes bright. You nodded sheepishly, fingertips tentatively touching your tingling lips.

‘Okay- I think I do… I- like you too. A lot’

[xypherz]

Moon!Lee Know x Sun!Reader

Details: Lee Minho x Reader, GN!Reader, Headcanons, 0.56k words You know the drill, opposites attract and whatnot.

Warnings: None, I don’t think? Maybe a curse word.

i'm definitely not a sun!person, so i hope this makes a lick of sense because i sure won't be able to tell if it doesn't! anyway these are so fun to write (even though i suck at proofreading please spare me).

This man.

He’s a very sarcastic and snarky guy, and he likes to keep his emotions under wraps, hating crying or being sad around people.

He’s relatively quiet (I say relatively for obvious reasons), and he tends to listen instead of inserting himself into conversations.

His life was as calm as any idol's life could be.

And then came you.

You are not quiet! Or a listener!

No no, you are talkative and love being at the center of every conversation.

It’s for this reason that Lee Minho immediately avoided you.

It’s not that he doesn’t like talkative people, or he can’t handle them.

If that were the case, he would be miserable around some of the other members of Stray Kids.

It’s that you hate leaving people out.

If someone tries to talk, and you see that they’ve been talked over, you’re immediately pulling them into the conversation to make them feel included.

While Minho is appreciative of your mindfulness, you also didn’t understand, at first, that he does not want to be included in the first place.

You notice he hasn’t spoken for a while? You’re prompting him.

He says something under his breath? You hear it loud and clear.

You constantly pulling him into conversations he had little-to-no interest in was his queue to recede somewhere else.

Including people is not the only thing you’re mindful of, though, so when you noticed that he seemed to dislike the situations you were putting him in (intentionally or not), you decided to stop.

When he’d make a comment that only you heard, you’d respond to him quietly, letting him know that someone’s listening, but not bringing him into an unwanted situation.

It was little changes to your usual habits that show you actually care about him, and it’s not just you being you.

He does not pick up on that though.

Sure he notices the changes you make, but he doesn’t really understand why.

When you actually develop romantic feelings for him, you literally have to spell it out to him.

Forgive him, he’s so clueless.

You’d expect him to be super attentive to that kind of thing since he never misses any mistake in choreography or changes in behavior of his members.

But nope, this man is absolutely useless when it comes to discerning romantic and platonic feelings.

He gets there eventually though, don’t worry.

Mentally facepalms when he finally figures it out because you tried to make it so obvious.

He makes it up to you by taking you on the cutest dates.

He may not be very good at knowing when someone likes him, but he remembers every small detail you mention about yourself.

I imagine you probably brought up liking an art history class that you took in high school like a month into knowing each other, and then 3 months later he brings you to an art museum.

Or you mention you haven’t been to this one cafe that you really love in a while and the next week, he’s taking you on a coffee date.

He’s a listener, an observer.

He doesn’t like when people try to turn him into anything different.

And as much as people try to say you’re not an observer as well, you did a pretty damn good job of noticing that about him.

So maybe you guys aren’t as different as you think.

[garfeildfanpage]

Ok so on the topic of headcanons, I know I haven’t mentioned it yet but Terukane has been a gruesome infection in my brain for over 3 years now, and it’s about time I let the brain worms breathe

Terukane infested their way into my brain mostly because they both just so happen to be my favorite type of character design and character archetype (middle part and glasses / absolute wet cat of a man) so them also having a dynamic that makes me both very ill and also jump for joy is (to me) a combo made in heaven.

But I’m picky, especially picky with characterization in fan fiction. And I’m glad that most fics of them are written by people who understand how they behave in-series. Though my biggest fault may be that I love to write but hate the act of writing, so every idea I have is forever locked away in my noggin, I can attempt to get out something here.

Quick note I’m not a weirdo so don’t think I mean anything in any weird way at all, if you do I’ll eat your family. Okay? Okay.

Smitten Teru is probably my favorite out of any characterization of the two, just because I love how it can either be mindrottingly sweet or just ,sad, personally I love going the “kicking feet and giggling” route but both are great in their own regard.

It also might just be that I can’t really see Akane behaving the way he does for Aoi to Teru, a lot of people just kind of move Akane’s unhealthy attachment issues to him without understanding why Akane behaves like that around Aoi in the first place. (I have a whole thing about that) So it’s refreshing to have him, like, not do that.

To add onto that: aloof/repress feelings as hard as possible Akane totally rocks, and I love seeing it. Especially with the “why in the FUCK would I have LIKE someone like that??” kinda shit, rocks me, love it, can’t get enough. God it’s like the only time where cheesy relationship junk doesn’t give me second hand embarrassment, cause like they’re both so unbelievably stupid at relationships, and watching them be awkward and terrible at it really alleviates the whole existential life-or-death stuff happening in the actual manga. Losers in love kills me, and they are just that. GOD I WANT TO THROW THEM OFF A RAVINE

Also, I know a lot of fan fiction does this, but it’s never to the degree that I wish it was. Flustered/embarrassed teru kills me. It always kills me in anything when he just acts like a normal person, just like, expressing normal people emotions but because he’s so repressed it just like kills him. GOD I went through like a six month period of not crying and the moment I did again it felt like I got hit by a bus, could not IMAGINE barely ever crying my whole damn life. A good hard cry, that’s what he needs.

Anyway, I think that’s enough, if I let the brain worms out anymore they’ll form a union and force me to pay them more. Ninja out

[tikiki05]

Anon who said ignore and not talk about a Ghostflower is kinda misguided cause Gwen and Ghostflower stans regularly harassing people on different platforms and people's personal tumblrs on top of being racist over a fictional ship has been and continues to be a problem. A couple months after ATSV was released last year, the tags had crazy content but Gwen stans would bully and harass anyone who didn't ship Miles and Gwen or who criticized Gwen's behavior even a little or just didn't like the character causing a bunch of fan artists, writers and people doing deep dives, especially Black creators, to leave or just stop posting and voicing their opinions because the harassment wasn't worth it, so the fact you're getting hate comments despite being nice about things sadly isn't surprising. They're currently on other platforms about Miles/Spiderverse harassing people too, I think they must have a discord or something and put up a bat signal whenever there's any Ghostflower pushback. But Ghostflower is a ship that might be well known but is not necessarily well-liked, people are not obsessing over that shit like that at all. Unfortunately, this doesn't mean that random white writers trying to add to their legacy by fucking up Miles' lore who know nothing about Black women or Black people aren't going to insert Gwen or some other white woman character they can relate to into things though. Like literally every white writer for Miles seemingly can only imagine him (and other Black characters) with someone white/nonblack and they write the most forced shit to make that happen and it feeds into the racism towards Black people in the fandom/comics. Tis sad as fuck.

Good evening and thank you for this ask! For context, this is the post they’re speaking about

And thank you so much for the sympathy, I know that that anon meant no harm but seriously how do you expect me to ignore something that’s not only highly related to something harmful, but is also super freaking prevalent in the fandom???? It makes me so sad. I haven’t been in a whole lot of fandoms, but I am surely no stranger to hearing about Black creators be harassed and driven away from fandoms and it absolutely breaks my heart. To be driven out of something you care about because you’re being attacked for another thing you care about? Not in the same way, but I’ve been in that position in my real life a handful of times, and it really isn’t fucking fair.

Not to toot my own horn, but honestly I do take pride in these posts I make. I hope people see these posts and can feel hope themselves. Like “oh hey! I’m not the only person who dislikes the popular thing! That’s cool :))” cause that’s definitely what I needed for awhile. And I hope that by speaking up about this, we can legitimately drown out and shut down the racist people in this fandom. Maybe I’m being overly optimistic and cheesy and cringe, and if I am I apologize for that, but damn I am sick of fandoms continuously being unsafe places for BIPOC creators.

And the white writers thing is really frustrating too cause like, ahh! As a white writer why can’t we all collectively be better??! And really listen to the people whom we’re trying to write characters about?!?

I don’t know, this post kind of just turned into a thought dump/vent thing but I hope someone gets something out of it. And I hope that I can stop hoping for things to be better and really see them become better.

More of a downer than my usual answer ask posts but thank you bunches nonetheless! Have a restful evening <3

[sokovianfortune]

do you believe that Dr strange 2 did something good for Wanda's character? because...with the billy reveal...it just feels like she died and killed for nothing....it irritates me because she deserves so much better

hi anon! i’m going to preface this by saying that i think i’m in the minority of wanda fans who very genuinely enjoys multiverse of madness, so that very much colors my view in regards to this question and i will very much be answering from this perspective. just. putting that out on the table.

the short answer here is yes, i think in terms of the characters she’s going to be interacting with in the future - particularly agatha and vision - multiverse of madness gave wanda some interesting plot threads to follow. i personally find the idea that she’s going to have people in her life that have also had experiences with a loss of agency via an outside party really intriguing! even if it’s not directly explored in canon, it’s interesting for me to think and write about — especially considering that i think she’d be quick to forgive them and subsequently be forced to reckon with the fact that this is hypocritical if she doesn’t forgive herself.

(although i’m not exactly sure how much this applies to agatha, considering that we haven’t had too much in the way of darkhold lore dropped just yet, but i have to assume we’re getting there eventually!)

also i’m not sure how much i can agree with wanda dying for nothing when she’s very much not permadead! imo as much as i adore agatha all along, it and vision quest probably wouldn’t exist if wanda wasn’t coming back. idk where this notion of “wanda’s side characters are all getting projects but not her” came from but i find it very silly. she is very much haunting this narrative for a reason. they’re literally building her and her family their own little private corner of the mcu.

long answer: i think what people tend to miss most about wanda’s arc in multiverse of madness is that it is a tragedy. for all that she is a villain/antagonist, she’s framed with a lot of sympathy by the narrative. people like to point to her in this movie as an example of the hysterical woman trope and i just. i don’t see it? we spend a lot of time with wanda in MoM. we understand her motivations and despite the things that she does to achieve them, we’re very much supposed to feel sad at the end! there are always going to be contrarians, of course, but frankly, they are just. not worth listening to. people who dislike wanda aren’t magically going to change their minds even if she does everything “right” going forward.

to me, billy having been alive and well in eastview reads the same as wanda not going to look for vision after MoM: it just goes to reinforce how powerful an influence the darkhold was on her mind. judging by the end credits scene in wandavision, i have to assume that the darkhold took the panic and fear of hearing her children cry out to her for help and used that to manipulate her — because otherwise, i can’t imagine her being tempted by any promises of power it might have made her. her children being in danger, though? surely it’s fine if she punches a few holes in the fabric of reality about that. they need her.

and isn’t that scary? how fully and completely this book can take hold of and almost consume someone as powerful as the scarlet witch? so completely, in fact, that any remaining traces of her own family can’t reach her? narratively speaking, i don’t think we’re supposed to look at wanda in MoM through the lens of a hysterical woman any more than we are regan from the exorcist or any other victim of demonic possession. there is something evil puppeteering her from within and we, the audience who loves wanda, are meant to be horrified by how far it’s forced her to fall.

but, and this is the most important part, at the end, wanda breaks free. her will and sense of self are so strong that, when faced with the reality of what she’s done, wanda defies both one of the most corruptive magical forced in our world and a prophecy that is perhaps as old as time itself. she leaves those variants of her boys with their mother and, in her “final” moments, does everything within her power at that moment to set everything she did wrong as right again as she possibly can. she “dies” a hero, even if stephen is the only one who knows it. 

is multiverse of madness what i would have done with wanda in the wake of wandavision? probably not! but i’m not the one calling the shots and, to be honest, if marvel was set on giving her a villain arc, this was probably the best we were going to get. keep all of that stuff contained to one movie where it’s made very clear that wanda is not herself (“it corrupts everything and everyone that it touches — i wonder what it’s done to you.” / “wanda’s gone. she has the darkhold and the darkhold has her.”), give us a few interesting plot threads and send us and her on our merry way to the redemption arc. i much prefer that over dragging it all out over a couple of avengers movies. blegh.

so no, i don’t think the billy reveal changes anything unless you’re one of those chodes on twitter who can’t consume media without constantly pointing out when characters make bad decisions for narrative reasons and harping on about how they would have made smarter ones. which, on the whole, i think is a very silly and childish way to engage with media. if characters didn’t make mistakes and were never wrong, we wouldn’t have stories — not interesting ones, anyway.

i hope this answers your question! i have a lot of feelings about Why Multiverse Of Madness Is Good Actually.