#i don't understand why it so seldom is

[fideidefenswhore]

okay i am still working on that henry percy write-up but another angle i wish was explored more:

very few allow for the possibility that chapuys was exaggerating jane’s support of mary as heir to the throne to the extent he was because he’s gone beyond and arguably to some extent, even against charles’ advice/instruction in his support of jane and active role in the boleyn downfall, over any princess charles wanted him to wed when it became clear there would be a new english queen (consort)....

of course he’s lost face regardless, but the solution to minimize that (basically, for promising different outcomes than resulted and overestimating jane’s influence on henry and the power that would be hers once queen) might have been to repeatedly insist that jane was vehemently attempting intercession for mary and even to reinstate her as heir, but that henry was dead-set against this, and of course, nobody could ever have predicted this (it was within the expectations of the ambassador’s role to predict political outcomes, an element where chapuys was more often than not, an abysmal failure, particularly wrt this timeline)

aside from the one report of the bishop of faenza ( she has five times thrown herself publicly at the King's feet, requesting him to send for his daughter and declare her Princess), who was not the most reliable source of the tudor court, this is not corroborated by any other contemporary source beyond a report that mary sat at the king and queen’s table for meals (much later), and the later spanish chronicle. chapuys’ own eventual face-to-face meeting with jane preceding mary’s capitulation contained commitment from her that was soon interrupted by henry, although of course chapuys attempts to spin this as best he can and save face later when events plummet soon after:

 the satisfaction of this people with the marriage was incredible, especially at the restoration of the Princess to the King's favor and to her former condition [...]  begged her to favor her interests; which she said she would do [...]  I begged him the day before, when he spoke about it, to take care that it did not contain anything which could directly or indirectly touch her right, or the honor either of herself or of the late Queen, her mother, nor yet her conscience; otherwise she would not consent thereto for all the gold in the world [...] Meanwhile I went to talk with this Queen's brother, whom I left very well informed of the great good it would be, not only to the Queen his sister and all their kin, but also to the realm and all Christendom likewise, if the Princess were restored to her rights; and I am sure he will use his good offices therein. [...] the King got into a great anger against the obstinacy and disobedience of the said Princess, showing clearly that he bore her very little love or goodwill [...]  In this case it would be important for the Princess to be declared heiress, at least in case of no male heirs. Has some hopes of this from the demonstration lately made by the King, the Queen's goodwill to her, and the words of Cromwell. [...]  it was proposed to deprive the Bastard and make [Mary] heiress [...]  the matter proceeded so far that, in spite of the prayers of this Queen, which he rudely repulsed, the King called the judges to proceed according to law to the inquest and first sentence which is given in the absence of the parties [...]  I even sent to [Cromwell] several times, when matters were so desperate, to advise the Princess to consent to the King's will, and I have since fully assured him that he should know before two months were over that there was no man in the world who had done better service in this matter than I. /  the danger of interrupting our negociations for amity, in which the English proceed so coldly that I know not what to say /  The ambassador writes that she was a maid of the late Queen, and afterwards of Anne Boleyn; that she is virtuous and kindly and welldisposed to the Princess, in whose favor she has spoken to the King, and that there were hopes of her being declared true heir in the parliament. / They have also renewed and aggravated the statutes against those who should use the name of Pope, which is also treason; and it is said they will cause the whole realm to be sworn again, in confirmation of the statutes against the Holy See, against the marriage of the late good Queen and the legitimacy of the Princess, to whom no one should dare give that title on pain of his life. /  [...] doubted whether he should have any child by the Queen; for which reason he intended, in a few days, to declare the Princess heir of the kingdom /  I think the Princess has acted more prudently, whatever Count Cifuentes and Doctor Ortiz may say, who in my opinion have not considered all the circumstances. /  The Princess is well. Since her reconciliation to her father, she has been treated even with more ceremony than in times past. /  As to the Princess, Cromwell tells me she will be declared heiress apparent without fail. /  She is now served as Princess. /  Chapuis writes on Sept. 2 that the Princess is well, and is served as Princess. 

jane either over-promised or chapuys exaggerated the vehemence of her promise (he certainly did cromwell’s... ‘without fail’ indeed); edward it seems made no commitment at all (none chapuys reports, at least...) and yet he is ‘sure’ he will do his utmost to restore her to her rights. 

the question becomes, what corroborating evidence do we have of chapuys’ reports on this dynamic as he reported? really it’s only mary’s letter to jane, which seems to be in response to a letter of support jane only wrote and sent after mary’s submission/capitulation (the copy of which has not, frustratingly, survived, although mary quotes it partially-- “no less full of motherly joy for my towardness of reconciliation than of most prudent counsel for my further proceeding therein"-- although it seems like jane was only able to keep one promise-- “of your goodness you promise to travel to bring to a perfection” was kept, but her request to “have in remembrance her desire to attain the King's presence” after the initial visit was not met for another five months-- “the delay of the coronation will do no harm except that the coming of the Princess to Court is put off till it takes place”). 

[leebrontide]

I think one thing we need to address in the US if we want to de-stigmatize multi-generational households that include ADULTS from multiple generations, is that parents need to learn how to have adult relationships with their offspring.

Should my daughter deign to live with me when she's an adult she will not be my some vassal that has to obey my household rules. She graduates into being a peer in setting and managing the boundaries, cleanliness and appearance of our home.

Too many parents want to have relationships with grown ass adults in which the parents maintain control and authority, and in which they leverage money and history to get their way from an adult who, very reasonably, wants to be able to make choices and have influence. And then those parents wonder why their kids keep their distance!

But then people act like I've lost it because I let my 5 year old pick the color of paint in her room- a room I seldom spend time in except to take care of her, and a room in which I want her to be comfortable and happy.

I'm not gonna let her choose a paint color for the kitchen right now, because she's capricious and bad at negotiating so we can pick a color we all like. But when she's an adult, if she's still living here? Why shouldn't she get to influence her environment?

People like to have agency. We limit the agency of children because they make choices without the full ability to understand the results (sorry baby, you are gonna get vaccinated for pollio even if you don't like it. You don't understand pollio).

But limiting an adults choices in their own home, just because you don't think that home should be a real home for them because it's just for you, is kind of an asshole move, to me.

No need to argue with me if you disagree. You can have your own opinion.

But I couldn't treat my kid that way, and I have seen enough to know that not every parent treats their adult children like permanently incompetent interlopers.

I didn't just buy this house for ME. I bought it for MY FAMILY. My baby is my family, and she will be no matter how old she gets.

[morose-melodies]

perfect failure | yandere! dottore x experiment! reader

part 1: you were a failed experiment... so why didn't dottore just kill you and move on?

currently: dottore had told you a little lie and didn't expect it to go so far...

part 1 part 2

dottore had lied to you.

it was a tiny, meaningless lie. it meant at all, not to him anyway.

it wasn't as if he needed to lie, as if he needed to claim that the world was being taken over by large monsters because you seldom left his laboratory, let alone his manor.

and you were always so content with him.

"(y/n), your heart rate has increased once more," dottore commented, glancing between the patient monitor and you - you were afraid of those said monsters.

though, you've never seen one. it was all you could think of - what if they ate dottore, what if dottore died, what if dottore was gone?

it was too much for your simple mind to comprehend.

too much.

"and you're running a fever of a hundred and two. what has gotten into you, (y/n)?" it wasn't normal for you to get sick, not at all.

dottore had, in truth, forgotten all about the silly lies he told. it was a one-and-done thing for him - he was just wondering how you'd react... which you gave him a blank facial stare as you thought about it.

so, dottore figured you didn't even know what monsters were.

as the days passed though, it slowly sunk in and you realized just how bad the situation dottore described was.

dottore stared at you, your distant eyes, and then as the bead of sweat ran down your forehead. he reached towards your face and wiped it away with his thumb. "you've been very quiet, also. for me to help you, your input is much needed."

still, you said nothing. your mind was like putty; even as you tried to form thoughts, all you could think of were those monsters.

"(y/n)," dottore repeated - you weren't 2 days old anymore, you understand your name very well and would reply when called by it.

were you regressing? dottore turned to his notebook and scribbled down that perhaps, you were regressing or for better words degrading.

turning to face you once more, he removed his gloves and placed a hand on your warm cheek, "what's the matter with you..." dottore mused, before removing your heart monitor and helping you down from the exam table.

he took your hand and brought you to his bedroom - the only place you could sleep soundly and let you lie down. "please rest, I'll be back with a warm towel for your fever. "

by the time dottore had gotten back, you were asleep. it never failed to humor him. he bit back a grin as he placed the warm towel on your forehead and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

...

for you to be in such a bad state made dottore feel bad.

it had happened all so quickly, it was as if you were degrading before his eyes. if you ceased to exist, dottore had no idea what he'd do - it seemed his life was now revolving around you and only you.

dottore watched as you shivered even though you were seated in front of the fireplace. your condition was getting questionable - why was this happening to you? had you eaten something from his laboratory, did some sort of fume get to you?

he sighed, removing his coat and sitting it over your trembling shoulders before seating himself beside you, placing an arm over your shoulder, and pulling you close to him - he would try to warm you himself.

you were afraid, though. being so close to a window made you afraid beyond reason, what if a monster broke through the window and ate you or dottore?

dottore frowned. this was hopeless, "(y/n), does this feel any better for you?" dottore asked, his thumb rubbing at your arm,

"... i don't feel well, doctor," your stomach twists and turns asglanceance at the window, covered by dark curtains.

"I can see that. oh well, I'll take you back to bed then," dottore stood and brought you along with him, because upstairs and into his bedroom.

he allowed you to keep his coat on as he let you lie down in his bed; he pulled the covers over you and made sure you were asleep before leaving you alone.

...

"hm, I said I'll be taking a trip to town to pick up some medication for you," dottore told you as he placed a hand on your cheek, feeling that you were still extremely warm.

"what do you mean, doctor?" you perked up, pushing yourself off of the exam table to step towards dottore, "you can't go, it's not safe."

dottore raised an eyebrow at you, turning to face you as he slid his coat on, "I can't go? (y/n)... why would it not be safe?"

"th-the monsters, docto-"

"what monsters, (y/n)?"

"*the monsters! they'll harm you, doctor! you cannot go!" you were hysterical, holding his arm in your trembling hands, shaking your head as you tried to keep him from even leaving the laboratory.

dottore stilled, turning to face you, "*monsters..." he trailed off, what were you going on about? "i don't exactly understand what you're going on about, (y/n). but, I'll stay."

you seemed to relax, your hand still holding his arm, as you panted, "you told me... monsters took over the world..."

oh, *that.

"huh, and here I thought you were going insane," dottore chuckled, holding his hand out for you to take, so, you let go of his arm and placed your hand into his, "simply put, i lied. there are no monsters. I'll be going now."

...

you had gotten better.

quickly, at that. after confessing that no monsters were taking over the world, you perked up and recovered quickly.

dottore placed his hand atop your head, nudging your head up, causing him to look at you, "this will be your... uh, second time going outdoors. how exciting, (y/n)?"

you lazily grinned at dottore, looking up at him and watching as he lowered his hands to the collar of your coat, buttoning it up. he couldn't have you getting sick once more.

after buttoning up your coat, he checked your hands, making sure you were still wearing your gloves though you claimed they were itchy and had removed them multiple times.

"oh, how could i forget," dottore trailed off, stepping past you to retrieve your beanie that you had tugged off and tossed onto the couch moments before. he came back with the beanie and slipped it back onto your head, "do not remove it again."

you sighed, watching as dottore stepped to the front door and opened it. before stepping outside, dottore looked back and grabbed your hand, making sure you didn't run off.

not that he thought you would.

"it's a bit warmer now, though, i doubt you can tell. but, the sun is out, that makes for a good day," dottore commented as he walked you over to his failed garden - dying flowers, to be more specific.

he had dedicated so much of his time to you, that he had abandoned his flowers and left them to die. "If I start talking too much, please do shut me up, I'd hate to bore you-"

these snezhnaya flowers were dottore's favorite- he could talk about them for hours at a time. they've been his current fixation for the last three years.

oh, how he loved these beautifully delicate flowers.

he adored them.

you reminded him of these flowers.

"had these flowers still been alive today, they would've died. the sudden temperature change would have been their demise," dottore nodded to the flowers, releasing your hand, and plucked a dying flower from the garden.

you silently stared at him, your eyes moving between the flower in his hand and him. you liked looking at him more, though.

dottore picked at the petals of the flower, frowning, "what a shame, such a beauty should be preserved."

dottore turned to face you once more, and said with a small smile, "when creating you, (y/n), I considered naming you after these flowers."

[luvlucia]

tension - yjw

summary: jungwon has been working a lot lately and you've finally had enough but he can't stand your brattiness || warnings: dom!jungwon x sub!reader, brat tamer! jungwon x brat!reader, argument, angry sex, unprotected sex || genre: smut, angst, established relationship || word count: approximately 1290 || a/n: see the request here!

For the past few weeks, Jungwon and you had barely any time together. He has been constantly working lately and only really home when you were about to go to sleep, or already asleep, and then gone in the morning. Every time he was home he was really tired and overall not in the best mood from how much he was working.

Today, Jungwon had gotten home earlier than usual but he had to leave soon due to an important meeting that he was mandated to attend.

You hadn't said anything about his absence the past two weeks but Jungwon could tell it was making you upset. He understood because he was also annoyed with how seldom he saw you as of late.

You sat on the end of the bed as you watched Jungwon fix himself up, having to leave soon. As you watched him your pout grew. "Jungwon.." You softly said, hesitantly.

"Mhm?" He responded, still looking at himself in the mirror as he continued to fix himself up.

"Can you at least eat dinner with me before you go?" You asked. You would be happy with even a short dinner with him because you knew that you'd most likely be sleeping when he got back home.

"I can't, angel. I have to go to that meeting soon." Jungwon said, glancing back at you momentarily before looking back at himself in the mirror, giving himself one last once over before turning to face you again.

"I'm sure you could have a quick dinner with me before you need to go." You nearly pleaded.

"I can't." Jungwon reaffirmed, his expression serious. "I'll see you after the meeting." He then said and that only made you more annoyed.

You rolled your eyes, making him furrow his eyebrows a little. "Yeah, you'll see me but I won't see you." You said since you'd probably be sleeping.

Jungwon let out a sigh, "So stay up." He said, annoyed. He wasn't really annoyed with you, more at the situation actually. He was just taking it out on you.

"Why should I have to stay up for you?" You said, completely bothered by him saying that.

"You shouldn't but it'd solve your problem, right?" Jungwon asked, his tone becoming less calm.

"Or you could just eat dinner with me for a bit and I'd be satisfied. Why can't you just do that? We have some time. It could be quick." You said, sounding both irritated and desperate.

Jungwon looked away from you for a moment before looking back into your eyes, "I told you I can't do that. I don't have time for that."

"You never have time for anymore! Even when you are here." You said rather loudly. "I mean, do you really have to work that much or are you just doing it so that you don't have to be with me?" You then asked, tears brimming in your eyes.

"Do you even hear what you're saying right now?" Jungwon asked, stepping closer to you as you remained sitting on the end of the bed. "You think I want to work all the time? To be away from you all the time? I mean, come on. I need you to really think about it because what you're saying makes no sense."

"I never get to see you anymore, Jungwon!" You complained. "It's so lonely, can't you understand that?" You then asked. "No, you can't. You at least have friends at work." You added, just saying stuff because you were upset and at your breaking point.

"You need to watch your mouth, Y/n." Jungwon says firmly, stepping closer, and looking down at you.

"Why should I? You're not going to do anything about it. You have to go to the meeting, remember?" You said rather brattily.

Without any warning, Jungwon leans down and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss was hungry and rough. You were surprised at the suddenness of all of it, having no time to react as he laid you down on the bed, standing in between your legs as he continued to harshly kiss you, groaning into your mouth.

Your hands made their way to his broad shoulders as he continued to sloppily kiss you, his hips grinding against your own. You let out a soft moan into his mouth as he continued. Jungwon pulled away from your lips for a moment as he grabbed the waistband of your shorts, grabbing ahold of your underwear as well as pulled them both off of you, tossing them to the side before spreading your legs again and grinding his clothed crotch against your bare one.

"Not going to do anything about it, huh?" Jungwon repeated what you'd said, a small smirk on his face despite the angry look in his eyes. He scoffed as he undid his belt and unzipped his zipper before pulling his own pants and underwear off, letting them drop down his legs.

Completely without warning, he grabbed the base of his cock and shoved himself inside of you, making you let out a squeal as you grabbed his arms. Jungwon started thrusting into you abruptly, letting out grunts and groans with every thrust.

"You c-complain and complain... like I... like I have a choice in how much I work?" Jungwon asked through his thrusts. "You... act like I- I want this?" He continued as you let out whines and moans of pleasure. "You don't know what the... the fuck you're talking about." He breathily said.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You whined as he continued his movement in you. "I just... I love you." You said, tears brimming in your arms as your grip tightened on his flexed arms.

"I love you more." Jungwon groaned. "Even if you think I don't." He said. You didn't say anything in response, just letting out more sounds of satisfaction. "I- I work so much... for us. Yet... yet you treat me like I'm some asshole." He continued, letting out his frustration not only through him fucking you but through his words as well.

You wrapped your arms around his neck gently, pulling his face down to yours, just wanting to kiss him. You missed this intimacy between the two of you, not having much of a chance to do this with him working so much. Even if these weren't the best circumstances with him being so annoyed, it didn't matter to you. You just wanted him.

Jungwon locked lips with yours again as he continued his thrusts, the both of you already coming close to your releases. Eventually, he stopped kissing you and just kept his mouth on yours as he let out louder groans of pleasure, your moans filling his ears as you covered his cock in your cum. He thrust into you a few more times before his hips stilled and he released inside of you.

Jungwon remained inside of you for a few minutes before pulling out, your guys' seed making a mess as it poured out of you. Jungwon fixed his bottoms before going to the nightstand and grabbing some tissues to clean you up.

Once you were cleaned up and dressed again, Jungwon sat down next to you on the end of the bed, looking over at you as he rested his weight on his palms that rested on the mattress.

"I love you, okay? I'm sorry that I've been working so much lately but it'll get better soon." Jungwon said and you just nodded, looking down at your lap. Jungwon moved one of his hands and gently took your chin in his grasp, turning your face to look at him. "You need to not be such a brat though. You know I don't like it."

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[crsssie]

every time i look at you, i keep turning red

word count: 7.0k || inspo: The Dismemberment of Zagreus

warnings: nsfw, smut

summary: shade or not shade? minor goddess or goddess?

Past the gates of Hades and the river Styx, Elysium sits. An endless paradise of homes and greenery in a seemingly desolate land. It was always Zagreus' third stop. He hadn't paid much attention there, Asphodel previously wearing him out. Zagreus wonders not much about the land itself. The prince needed to get past it, avoiding traps he's lived through too many times to count and fighting past foes. He stops occasionally at safe spaces of people he's talked to and always leaves nectar behind as he knows he's going to return. He never makes it that far into the temple. It takes trials through hell and back to escape. It takes time, he finds. So sometimes, he rests in the fields, in a place he knows is far away from whatever traps of death within the realm of Hades himself may await him. A place where no dirt can cut into his skin and damage it.

It was a strange place. The shades wound him, though they didn't pierce the skin of the shades. Skin? The body. The souls, perhaps. The realm of Elysium was never meant to reside in as a godling for long. Though, he had seen multiple souls retain their human form here. It was amusing to him. It had been the closest he had ever been to talking to living people. He wonders if there are any new ones. It was weary, meeting the same people over and over again in the realm. He seldom sees people end up here anymore.

A sigh slips past his lips as he lays down in the green.

He resides in a paradise built for only the best of the best; people whom the gods favored heavily. Since the first three times he had visited his mother, he hadn't stopped to breathe in order to get back up. He fought, raced, and hurled in order to get to where he needed to be. He had to see his mother once more. She hadn't returned with him, and he had unanswered questions he needed answers to. Yet, as he finished with Asphodel, he supposes a quick rest in the grass could not kill him. Well, he wasn't exactly alive either. And, if failed, he would simply return to where he started. It was a cycle he had grown used to, though he fought tooth and nail to make it upward each time.

Zagreus is not expecting to meet someone new on the fourth.

He spots you in the distance, white chiton draping over your shoulders, wrapping snugly around your figure.

A young maiden. You looked no older than him.

He wonders by whom you were favored, but he pauses at the sight of the familiar color. It seemed you had received a blessing in the form of your hair. The streaks of color remind him of his own mother, and he wonders just what you've done to please the Queen of the Underworld so much. You don't notice his stare, but you notice the sword stuck to the dirt, reaching to pull one out of the ground. He wonders if you'll get cut by one. His eyes trail over your hands, and he takes note of how rough your hands seemed to be. They resemble those of his mother's. Perhaps you had been a farmer who worshipped his mother especially much.

The blade doesn't cut you, but you fail to pull it out. He watches newfound determination paint over your features, and his lips part at the sight. You pull the weapon out in two tugs, falling onto the ground as you do. The red on the surface of the blade cracks into green as you pry the sword out with your bare hands. Zagreus can only observe in a mixture of fear and awe. You, a dainty maiden, had pried a weapon out of the sod as though it were a pomegranate. You sat there, staring at the craftsmanship, enthralled by its beauty as he were enthralled with yours. You hear him shuffle, and he leans back into the grass.

Zagreus doesn't understand why you don't approach him nor run away, but he takes it as a greeting. He might see you more often. Perhaps he'll see you on his next quest upward. When he hears you shuffle out of range, he stands up, the wounds on his body healed to some extent. His exhaustion is rested, and he sets off to meet his mother again. Perhaps he'd ask her about you. It was strange to see hair that reminded him so much of his own mother. He wondered if the color had the same texture as his mother's. Ah, but it wouldn't be so kind to compare you to his mother, now would it? Perhaps he missed his mother. That's why he had stayed a little longer to pay attention to you. It would leave him with his next death. There was no other reason.

When Zagreus reaches the surface, his mother shakes her head at his questions. She had no favored child. There must've been something wrong. Perhaps he had seen things while hurt from battle. As Zagreus falls back into the Styx, he wonders if you really had been a desperate hallucination. It had been years since his father had ruled anyone into Elysium. If not blessed, then what was it? Perhaps you had done something during the time that you were alive.

You were a mortal goddess. One of healing, he supposes. He closes his eyes and hears someone shuffle toward him, pressing cold hands onto his skin, and a cooling sensation flowing through his body. When he opens his eyes again, the figure is gone, the wounds on his body mended. There's no ache in his body, and he notices the ambrosia left next to him. It was strange. Had you really been a goddess, you wouldn't be able to die. Perhaps you had fallen out of worship and grown forgotten by the people who once served you.

Zagreus keeps the ambrosia in his pockets. Maybe he'll give you one once he returns.

The fifth time he lies in the field, he doesn't have as many wounds, but he closes his eyes anyways. Perhaps he could catch you. When he feels as though he's waiting an eternity, he hears the grass rustle. Once the footsteps stop next to him, he grabs the hand that's pressed to his back. "Got you," He smiles. You struggle in his grip, and he can feel you grow warmer. "I won't hurt you," He sits up, keeping your wrist in his hand, taking note of how dainty you were compared to him. Your wrist seems small in comparison to his hand.

You blink at him owlishly, fear visible in your eyes. "Prince. M-my apologies. I didn't want to wake you, though I was worried the wounds would cause problems if left alone. Please don't send me to Tartarus..."

Zagreus sputters. "I assure you, fair maiden, that is not the case. I simply wanted to meet my savior. Perhaps you are a godling as I?"

You shake your head. "I am not. The blessing of Apollo's healing was simply placed on me. I am but a minor deity compared to the Olympians."

"So you fell out of worship?" Zagreus loosens his grip on your wrist. You don't seem like you'll leave if he does.

"No," You shake your head. "My mortal body was destroyed in a fit of rage from my father... My prince, how is it that you're able to touch me? I thought shades could not be touched."

"Elysium is a little different from such rules," He mumbles. "Thank you, for the ambrosia, fair maiden."

"It was but something expected," You mumble, standing back up. "My apologies for holding you back, my prince. I heard you are on your way to Olympus."

"That's not entirely correct," He stands up with you, towering over you almost. "But thank you for your healing, fair goddess."

"The Olympians wouldn't be happy with that title you call me," You mumble shyly as he presses a kiss to your hand. "Go on, my prince. May you continue on your journey with the blessing of a minor deity such as I."

Zagreus smiles gently. "I thank you for the blessing, little goddess."

Zagreus climbs back to the overworld for the fifth time.

On the sixth, he has no injury. He's growing better at climbing, yet he still stops by the meadow where you reside. He wants to see you again. Of the few shades that could touch him, he seemed to like you the best. Your fingers were cool against his skin, and he liked the way you warmed when he complimented you. He likes the way you turn dark from his touch. You were tiny compared to him. He was already short compared to both his parents, but you were even smaller. It seemed you were an even lesser goddess compared to him. He liked the feeling of your hand in his. Ah. He'd have to ask mother what that feeling was. His chest was warmer than the gates of the underworld.

"Lovely maiden," Zagreus presses your hand to his cheek, relishing in the cold of your fingers. You feel divine on his skin. As though Nyx herself had blessed you, your skin was cold as his foster mother's. He liked the feeling of your skin on his.

"My prince," you mumble. "What time is this? I feel as though you've climbed for centuries by now."

"Maiden," He whispers. "That is simply because there is no morning here."

"Ah," you mumble. "The days feel long, even in a paradise such as Elysium."

"I can see that," Zagreus smiles. "Well, I shall be on my way now."

"Yes, my prince," You bow. "Please stay safe. May the blessings of a minor deity as I assist you along the way."

"Thank you, little goddess," He presses your fingers to his lips. "I shall see you in my next run."

Zagreus finds himself heavily wounded on his seventh run. His mother had told him to consider talking to his father properly, and he had fallen dead to the overworld again. Ah, he had forgotten to inquire about the warmth from you. He recalls the words of his mentor, though, wondering if that was how his father felt around his mother. Would he have to move you forcibly to his room? No. That would make him the same as his father. He wouldn't like it.

Neither of you speak while he's injured, and you press your palm to his skin. The cold that spreads through his abdomen stings, though it brings him comfort as well. He has grown used to the cold from your hands, and he wonders if you could press it to his hands to heal them as well. Calluses and rough patches of skin from handling weapons have long plagued his fingers and palms. It was a strange feeling, though it has grown to be welcomed. There is something about your touch specifically. His hand reaches for your face as you start pulling away.

"Goddess," He mumbles, pressing his fingers to your cheek.

"Tis your seventh run, yes?" You mumble, leaning into his touch.

"Yes," He breathes, his breath catching in his throat.

"How many more, my prince?"

"I don't know," he presses his thumb on your bottom lip, swiping across it. Your lip seems small compared to his thumb, he can only imagine how small you would be compared to his hands once he lifts you. Ah. No. He couldn't afford such thoughts. He had barely known you, yet he held such affection for you. Perhaps you had treated him just as you treated everyone else. He didn't know a dead heart could race so fast. "Until my mother returns." He purses his lips. "Though it will only be temporary rest. I don't feel as though I belong here, you see."

"Mm," you hum gently, lashes fluttering to get a better look at the prince. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my prince."

"I do," He smiles. "And I get to see you, my fair goddess, each time."

"How flirtatious of you, prince," You mumble, skin warm again.

"Only with you, my fair goddess," He smiles. "This is for you to take," He places a bottle of ambrosia in your hands. "Until I meet you next time, goddess."

Your skin warms from his ministrations. "May the blessings of a minor goddess as myself keep you safe on your journey."

"A kiss, perhaps?" He smiles, cocking his head to the side gently. "If you don't desire it, then it is fine."

"If the prince desires it," you mumble, using his shoulder as leverage to pull yourself to his cheek. You press your lips to his neck for a moment, and Zagreus finds his skin growing red. He turns to stare at you, the blush visible on his skin. You stare up at him, doe-eyed and smiling. "Then I shall fulfill it."

Zagreus wants to defile you.

The thought comes up suddenly as he stares down at you, and his heart shakes erratically in his chest. Maybe it wasn't a heart. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to his head. Yet, as he watches you fulfill whatever he desired, he couldn't help but wonder if you'd give yourself to him. His hand reaches for your lip again, brushing the bottom lip. You stare at him, staring quietly. Ah. He's been staring for too long. Hopefully, you don't mind it.

"My apologies, little goddess," Zagreus lets go of your face gently. "I shall be on my way."

"May the blessings of a minor goddess as I protect you along the way," You bow, and Zagreus heads out to his mother again.

Zagreus pauses while in the colosseum, a recurring thought plaguing his mind. It would be nice to find you after the fights, though he would have to return again. He wonders how far your healing properties can go. Perhaps he could find you once he climbs the next time. He still needed to convince his mother to return to the underworld with him. Once he does such, he'd be able to leave much easier. His father being distracted would also permit him to spend more time with you while he climbed to the surface. Perhaps he could somehow convince his mother to let you roam around the underworld with him while he traveled upward. A companion along his way would be nice. You could heal him when he needed it as well. He'll talk with mother on the matter.

While on the surface, his mother follows him with more questions. Zagreus wonders if it would be possible to remain on the surface for longer. Perhaps he'd build up an immunity to the sun, and he'd be able to stay out for longer. He should bring you up sometime. Though, it seems you didn't exactly die, so you'd undoubtedly be capable of escaping from the underworld. His father would be greatly angered at such a thought. Letting a goddess that fell out of worship escape the underworld? How foolish of a thought.

"My prince," You stare at him as he steps toward you.

"Goddess," He smiles. "I've come to seek advice, since you seem to have seen more than I."

"A lie," You hum. "But let us see if I shall be of assistance to you."

"My father's chambers," Zagreus swallows, and he pauses. Should he be telling you of such a vulnerable room? No. Even if he were to keep it a secret, he wouldn't know the answer until his mother responded to him. "Do you know of the former queen? My mother?"

"The goddess Persephone?" You tilt your head. "It had been a legend, as many of the people believed you were the son of Nyx, but I suppose you wouldn't be escaping to leave if your mother were here."

"So you do know," He mumbles. "My father has a portrait of my mother hung up in his room, still. After so many years."

You tilt your head to hear more.

"I do not understand why."

"It is love," You smile. "For one does not go so far or so to keep a fragment of someone unless they are in love."

"Is that so," Zagreus mumbles. "Would you like to meet mother?"

"My body is supposedly bound to Elysian," You smile. "Unless the prince was considering abducting me?"

"I do not see why not," He shrugs. "Tis tradition in this house." He smiles cheekily. "As my father had abducted my mother."

"But you do not love me," You watch him as he presses the back of your hand to your lips. "As your father loves your mother."

"I would move you to the office of Hades myself if I could," Zagreus nods, and you press two fingers to his head.

"May the blessings of a minor goddess as I keep you safe on your journey once more," You bow as he steps off.

"Ah," He turns around. "Before I forget." He steps over to you, handing you a bottle of ambrosia. "Would you be willing to move to my chambers if I could move you?"

"We shall talk about that once the chance of such an event occurs," You smile, and Zagreus watches the faux wind brush your hair.

"Of course. Thank you, little goddess," He returns to the arena once more.

In such a way, he supposes Asterius and Theseus have grown tired of his attempts at escaping, though they go no easier on him than they always have. The metal of his weapons clashes against theirs, and he does wonder if his proposal to you could ever go beyond a fleeting thought. Though, as he defeats the heroes once more, he stands and stares at the drops. Perhaps he could bring that up once his mother returns. His father's mood might soften if that were to occur. But alas, pointless thoughts are worth nothing until they follow through.

Zagreus talks to his mother, questioning as to why his father would even begin to keep a portrait of his mother with him. His mother's response is the same as yours, and he pauses at the realization. His mother seems to catch on, and he curses himself as he falls to the river Styx again. He's wasting his time thinking about you while on the surface. His mother is considering it, sure, but gods, he's about ready to steal you for himself. He's sure you'd look much prettier under the sun. He's nearly jealous of your worshippers. Though, he wonders how a foolish thought as such could even plague his mind.

"I have been told," You start, fiddling with your fingers. "That this is not your ninth run, but perhaps your hundredth, my prince."

"That is an overstatement," He hums. "I have lost count as death is not new to me."

"It would seem so," You mumble. "For death is foreign to me."

"You had not passed?"

"The sleep reincarnate had quite the time trying to find my name," You smile. "Hades himself had to welcome me into Elysium since he could not send me back to the overworld."

"Would you like to join me?" He traces circles on your hand. "Since you are not bound there."

"I will be of no help in the arena with Asterius and Theseus. I shall simply wait for your next climb." You shake your head.

"No warrior experience?" He finds it almost baffling. "None?"

"I have fought," You swallow. "But I do not enjoy it, my prince."

"I see," He mumbles, staring at your robes. "Then I shall come find you in my next run."

"I see," You smile. "Please convey my words to your mother. I feel as though the underworld misses their queen, my prince."

"I see," He nods.

"May the blessing of a minor goddess as I," You grab his hand, pressing your lips to his knuckles. "keep you safe on your journey once more, my prince."

Persephone entertains the idea of possibly returning to the underworld. The last words she leaves Zagreus with make his heart flutter at the possibility of his mother returning home with him. He's elated. Once he does, he's sure he'll be able to have her meet you and possibly move you around with him. The idea brings a smile to his face as he talks to Hypnos. The sleep incarnate grimaces and sends him on his way, napping once more as a result. Zagreus doesn't understand why his heart races as he opens his arms for you.

You crash into his chest gently, sighing gently at the feeling of his arms around you. Zagreus thinks you're a little cold, but it's a welcome contrast to his warm skin. His fingers press against your back, and you smile softly. It doesn't reach your eyes, but your body relaxes in his touch, and Zagreus can't help but wonder if something had occurred for you to touch him so willingly. He lets you rest on his chest, and he presses his fingers to the back of your neck. You squirm at the sensation, and he smiles. "Did you miss me, little goddess?"

"Yes," You mumble. "You took time this run, you see, my prince."

"My apologies," He presses a kiss to your hair, and you giggle.

"How was seeing your mother?" You peel yourself from him, lashes fluttering up at him.

"It was nice," He hums, letting go of you. "Are you still willing to reside with me in the main castle?"

"Perhaps once you accomplish your goal on the surface of the earth," You tap his chest mindlessly. "Will the queen return?"

"Perhaps," He closes his eyes, pulling your palm to his cheek. "Will you meet her with me this time?"

"Perhaps," You mumble. "Though, I can not return to the surface with you. It will be of no help."

"I do not mind bringing luggage with me," He lifts you from the ground, grinning as you yelp. You sit on his right shoulder as he rushes to the arena. "If you do not wish to fight, then there is no need for you to."

"I can fight," You swallow, the blade on your thigh.

"But you do not like it," He hums, pulling you to the side. "Just watch me and heal from the sidelines. Please, little goddess." He brushes your hair to the side, and your breath catches in your throat.

"If that is what you will, my prince." You mumble as he carries you off to the arena. A part of you were terrified of Hades's booming voice as the first time, yet Zagreus' arms keep you secure. He couldn't pass with you around. You hadn't passed away, and the healing you provided raised his defenses. You prayed that he would survive with you as luggage. The mere thought of having to battle on your own terrified you. The sight of blood was already a tightrope to walk on.

Your prince fights valiantly, the battle long engrained into his muscles, and he finishes his job with precision. The blood on his skin does not belong to him, but rather his opponents, and the good shade cheers. Your fingers drum against your skin nervously as the gate to the Temple of the Styx opens. The prince offers you his hand, and you follow him. You fear for your life. There were rumors that the gate to the surface was guarded by Lord Hades himself, and you did not wish to meet the god again.

Zagreus passes with you on his shoulder, and he finds that you are much lighter than he thinks. It was as though your bones could break at any moment. He didn't like it, though he was glad you hadn't complained about how quickly he was rushing through. He wanted to meet his mother. Perhaps he'd get his father's blessing along the way, though, he would most likely attempt to send you back to Elysium. He wouldn't let him. It wasn't any more of an act of defiance compared to escaping to meet his mother.

Zagreus reaches the gates to the surface with you still on his shoulder, and his father pauses at the sight. His son has a shade on his shoulder, and he contemplates letting his son out even at all. Though, he recognized the shade. It wasn't a shade, it had been a goddess who had just floated down the River Styx. He supposes letting him go would not hurt, though it would definitely cause a hit to the reputation of the underworld.

"Zagreus," Hades' voice bellows. "What is with the shade?"

"She is not a shade," Zagreus swallows, and he presses his hand to your trembling thigh. "She is a goddess."

"Goddess or not," The king of the underworld roars. "I can not let her escape."

"I am taking her to meet mother," Zagreus grumbles. "If you do not let me pass, we will fight as we always have."

You avert your eyes from the King, and Zagreus' grip on you assures you of your safety. You had not thought he would be so honest with his words. The heat creeps up your cheeks, and you attempt to tune out the King and Prince's conversation. You can feel the heat from frustration radiating off of his body, and you press your palm to the back of the prince's neck. You hope that'll calm him down to some extent. It works, and the prince starts negotiating. The heat at the gate lowers, and you whimper as Zagreus finally rushes out with you.

The overworld is much colder than the underworld. You had forgotten it was near winter, and you tap the prince for him to let you down.

"I promised father to bring you back," He mumbles, holding onto your hand instead. "So you must stay attached to me."

"Of course, my prince," You mumble, stepping onto the grass. "How long do you have?"

"Until I pass," He smiles. "You must return from the styx with me, though."

"I can return through the gates," You follow him as he rushes through the hill to his mother's abode. The snow crunches under your feet, and you glance at the burnt grass from Zagreus' feet. You hadn't paid much attention to the prince, yet it came as a surprise that his feet left ashes in the green. Perhaps his mother had cast a spell in her garden? You try not to think much as the prince leads you to his mother's home. You were undeniably a little worried for meeting the queen of the underworld.

"Mother," Zagreus lets go of your hand, and you stand there, glancing around the garden.

You space out for much of the conversation, rocking on your heels, staring around at the overworld. It has not changed much. You wonder how your people are doing, though they are far from the gates of the underworld. Your eyes linger at the edge of the cliff, and Zagreus' voice cuts you out of your trance. "Mother, this is a minor goddess that ended up in the river Styx," Zagreus pulls you to his mother, warm hands on your shoulder as you smile awkwardly.

"It's... a pleasure to meet you, goddess," You bow.

"Well, there are no need for formalities as such," The goddess smiles. "I remember you. I had visited your temple once."

"I am honored, your highness," You bow in embarrassment. "That you had received the help of a minor goddess as I."

"There is no minor nor major," The queen helps you up, and she smiles. "For we all take care of people."

You flush with embarrassment. "Thank you, my queen."

Your skin warms as the two of them help you onto Charon's boat, and you listen curiously to the sounds of Orpheus and Euridice. The boat rocks rhythmically as you stare at the passing scenery. The green of Elysium is familiar to you, though the lands of Asphodel and Tartarus are foreign to your eyes. You note the screams, and you stare almost longingly at the ever-fading sunlight. Zagreus takes note of it, though he wonders if there were ever a chance you could remain in the overworld. Both of you know that is just foolish wishing.

As the boat stops at the gates of Hell itself, you pause to stare at the gates. They're a terrifying height to you, and as the queen of the underworld herself bellows for the opening of the gates. Zagreus squeezes your shoulder assuringly as he presses his palm to your back. You trail through the gates, next to the prince, swallowing unconsciously as Hades greets his wife and son. You reach for Zagreus' hand instinctually, shaking slightly as his hand clasps you. He rubs gentle circles on the back of your hand as you space out, thinking about your home in Elysium. Though, it seems as though Zagreus does not wish for you to return. Even as you return to the main hall with him, Zagreus does not let go of your hand.

"Goddess," He mumbles. "We shall be throwing a banquet for the olympians. Would you like to join?"

"There is no need," You mumble. "When shall I be returning to Elysium?"

"Do you wish to return to early?" The prince whispers sadly, and you whimper.

"I am worried that Lord Hades will grow angry," You try and explain yourself.

"If he does not, will you stay with me?"

"If it is my prince's will," You avert your eyes, and the prince smiles.

"Then by royal order, you are to stay next to me at all times."

"Even while my prince escapes?" You fiddle with your fingers, letting go of his hand.

"Even while I escape," He presses his hand to your hair and runs it down your back. "You are to stay with me."

"Yes, my prince," You don't know how to feel about it. Though, it seems to be an issue that only you worry about. The preparations for the party are done by Lady Persephone and you, adjusting the tablecloth and food. You help pick the wines, the queen herself growing the grapes, and the underworld quickly hurries to vitalize. It feels very alive, a place that seemed to be no more than death itself. You had never seen Hades work so much on things other than dealing with shades. You're almost impressed.

Zagreus helps his mother adjust the tables in the dining room, and the amount of preparation that goes into the welcoming of the Olympians is baffling. You help around when you can, organizing plates and tasting the food. Zagreus stops you from having a sip of ambrosia while preparing. You bat your lashes at him, and he shakes his head. "There is alcohol mixed into it, fair goddess." You listen, setting it onto the table as he rushes off to help his mother. You smile at the two; after all, he was a mother's boy. You wonder if you had parents of your own, but you brush the thought off. It did not matter.

Once the party ends, you don't complain as you clean up with the other servants, and you don't complain as you wash dishes in River Styx. You find it amusing that you were washing dishes in the river of the dead. The boon of Lady Persephone herself keeps you from decaying, and Zagreus helps you out, drying tableware as you finish the last of the mess. The rest of the castle is restored, and you collapse onto Zagreus' recliner, exhaustion worming through your body. You curl in the cushions, the exhaustion knocking you out. You could worry about other things later once you wake up.

The prince of the underworld steps back into his room, frowning when he couldn't find you after you rushed off to the kitchen. He wonders if you had been sent back to Elysium or attempted to flee. After all, you had looked sad when you boarded the boat to return. He's glad that isn't the case when he finds you on his bed. Your chest rises and falls, the fabric of your chiton barely doing anything to cover your body. It slides down your shoulder, and Zagreus bites his tongue as he shifts it back up your shoulder, covering you. He lifts you from the recliner, placing you in bed gently, as if scared you would break from his touch. Your skin is cool against his as he wraps his arms around you hesitantly, and he closes his eyes. It had been a while since he had fallen asleep.

You wake to warmth pressed against your back and a sweaty body. You don't recall Zagreus' room being so hot. Was Tartarus burning all of a sudden? Perhaps Asphodel had overflowed once more. Yet, as your eyes open and you stretch your arms, you find that you're in the arms of the prince, his head pressed into your shoulder. You pause mid-stretch, and you lower your arms, shuffling to face him. The sheets rustle as you press your ear to his chest, eyes closing again at the sound of his heart. Huh. You didn't know dead people had heartbeats in the underworld.

Zagreus wakes again, sighing at the coolness of your skin. He glances at your new position, and he lies there, staring up at the ceiling. His mind wanders as you lie on him, and he brushes your hair to the side. You look pretty in his arms, and you were all his. You stir in your rest, and you blink drowsily at the male. "Zag?"

"Good morning, goddess," He smiles. "Did you rest well?"

"Very much so," You mumble, tapping his chest gently. His eyes meet yours, and his lips pull into a grin. You look dazzling. He moves his hand to your cheek, tracing the bags of your eyes. Your lips part, leaning into his touch. You contemplate your words for a moment, the prince hanging on the apprehension. Your next words cause his smile to broaden."May... I have a kiss?"

"Yes, goddess," He whispers, lowering himself to press one to your lips lovingly. You wrap your arms around his neck, whimpering at the heat from his hands. His eyes stay half-lidded, and his tongue swipes your bottom lip. You part your lips, letting him press his tongue to yours, sticking closer to him. Zagreus leans further into you, heart ringing in his ears. He whimpers as you move your hands to press to his chest, and he pulls away, the coolness of your skin burning his. He pants, staring at you through his lashes. "What's wrong?"

"I want more," You whimper, squirming as he presses his hands to your waist. Zagreus' face lights up. You seldom asked for more. You must be tired, his pretty goddess. He'll take care of you properly. Anything for you, after all. He pulls the blanket from your shoulders and lifts you into his lap.

"On top or on the bottom, darling," He mumbles, and you reach for his wrist.

"Bottom, please, Zag."

The prince spreads you on the bed, pulling your thighs apart as you ease into the pillows. You chew your bottom lip nervously as he presses his fingers into your legs. You grow embarrassed from his actions, skin flushing.

"Don't do that," You whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"It's embarrassing," You hide your face, and the prince smiles.

"There is no embarrassment," He pulls you to his face by the thigh, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. "You are the lover of the prince of the underworld. There is no shame in a place as this." He lifts the cloth from your legs, scrunching it up. "I'll make sure that you are aware of this, goddess." His fingers trace the outer lip of your labia, thumb meeting your clit to get you wet. You grip the sheets, desperate to cum not squirm. Zagreus is making it increasingly hard for you, your breath quickening as he slides a finger into you. Your thighs squirm to close, and he uses his arms to keep you open. Your struggling falls on deaf ears. He stares in curiosity at the way you coat his fingers. "You're gorgeous, darling." He mumbles, kissing your clit gently. You flush with embarrassment.

"That's embarrassing," You whine again.

"I told you, darling," Zagreus presses his lips to your pussy, pulling his fingers out to keep your legs apart forcibly. "There is no embarrassment to being my lover." He can't see you, but he drinks in the sounds you make as he goes down on you. The room fills up with your gasps, and he moans lightly as your fingers thread through his hair. He presses his tongue flat again, and you whimper as he bites on your clit. You're not sure what happens next, but as the prince goes back down on you in a blur, your legs are tightening around his head, your orgasm crashing down on you. Your lips part, a silent sob slipping past your lips as Zagreus pulls from you. He swipes his fingers across his chin, collecting the slick from your cunt.

"Still embarrassed?," His face drops, and he leans into your face.

You whimper. "N-no."

"Do you want to go all the way?" He stares at the mess on the sheets, and you whimper.

"Yes," You whisper. "I... feel as though I've made you wait long enough."

"Do not think that you are required to satisfy me," He whispers, staring into your eyes. "Never. This is about your comfort."

"I am sure, my prince," You mumble, fingers pressing onto his chest again.

Zagreus pulls his robes to the side, and he gives you one last stare, only pulling you to him as you nod. You're nervous, understandably so, and the prince eases into you, lashes fluttering to stare at you while you stare at where he was sliding into you. He's glad you're wet enough, and he pauses once he's inside of you, rubbing comforting circles onto your waist as you reach for his hand. He entwines his fingers with yours, letting you play with his fingers as you adjust to his size.

You're full. You feel yourself filled to the brim, stretched beyond how you've ever felt with your fingers alone. You fiddle with the prince's hand, the heat from his body warming yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to feel closer to him, and he leans onto you, hands caging you to keep his body weight off of you. You take the moment to stare at his arms and pecs, biting your bottom lip as he shifts himself in you. You exhale, curling upward to his collar, biting quietly. The prince cocks his neck to the side to give you more access, and you bite down, the male moaning. You suck quietly. You wonder if you could ask him to play with his chest another day. He might think it's too much for the first time.

Your lips let go of his neck, and you lower yourself back onto the mattress. "You can move now, my prince."

Zagreus moves slowly, worried that he would break you if he were to move roughly. You can feel him with every drag, sweating. "You're, hah, so dazzling, goddess," The male moans, hissing at the feeling of your nails rake down his skin. You whimper as he drags himself inside of you again, and your eyes are glazed over with tears. Zagreus finds that you look divine like this. The mixture of sweat and spit on the two of you causes your skin to glisten, and his half-lidded eyes flick over your body. You look ethereal. Ah, not even the skies of the overworld could rival your beauty. He can't believe he gets to have you like this.

You gasp and writhe under him, broken sobs cracking out of your throat as he thrusts into your repeatedly. You feel his sweat build up under your nails, yet you don't mind. Every inch of your body is on fire, and you whimper at how full you feel. You feel every inch of him drag through you at each thrust, and your toes curl behind him. It's drunkening. Your body is a mess from him, the cum staining his sheets, yet Zagreus doesn't stop. Your arms fall above your head, Zagreus entwining his hand with one of yours. You feel embarrassed, trying to muffle your voice in his pillows. "Zag... Zag... Ah, Zahg" You gasp as he presses his chest to yours, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I'm going to... hah... cum... please..."

Zagreus presses a kiss to your collar, his thumb moving down to meet your clit. You were calling his name so sweetly, how could he not comply? Your back hits the bedding again, nails digging into his shoulders. You moan and babble incoherently as he speeds up, and you cry as your orgasm hits. It jolts down your spine, your pussy clenching on him, causing the prince to curse on your skin, fucking you through your orgasm. You cry from the overstimulation, and the prince strings apologies into your ears as he chases his own orgasm. "Zahg... nn," You cry. "It feels weird... a-ah," Zagreus presses his lips to yours, finally feeling himself cum as your nails dig back into his skin. He doesn't think much as he forces himself into you deeper so that his cum stays, and you finally relax onto the pillows, tear stains visible on your cheeks.

"Sorry, darling," He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, licking the salt curiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," You whimper as he pulls out. "I'm fine. Thank you, my prince."

"Rest again, my goddess." He mumbles, kissing your forehead. "I shall take care of you."

"I'm sorry," Your eyes shut. "My prince."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for," He pulls the covers over you once more, and you drift off.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Helloo! Thought of a prompt, thought you could fulfil!

Stoic Hero doesn't like anyone knowing what they went through. Villain finds out anyway?

(So specific, Ikr?)

Most of the time, the villain tried not to act like a total idiot around the hero. It wasn't necessarily because they feared judgement. It was mostly the fact that despite all, they wanted to stay professional.

But looking back, this probably counted as idiotic behaviour.

"If you're mad at me, I can live with that," the villain said. Their eyes were on the hero in the hospital bed and slowly, it dawned on them that they themselves hadn't eaten in hours.

"You shouldn't be here," the hero croaked in response. With their black eye and their arm in a sling, they looked miserable enough to make the villain's stomach turn. Usually, the hero wasn't one to use many words and the villain had seldom actually argued with them but considering all circumstances, the villain was ready for a lecture.

Hospitals had always been a no on both sides. Identities being revealed and civilians getting involved was something both had agreed on to avoid.

But the villain had panicked. They had seen the blood and the broken bones. The hero hadn't responded.

Of course, they had called an ambulance. Of course, they had tried everything in their power to make sure the hero was alive.

"Honestly, if you're mad at me, that's fine. I understand. I just need you to know this wasn't on purpose. The medical staff isn't allowed to leak any personal information and nobody treated you any differently from other patients. It should be safe for you to be here."

The hero closed their eyes and leaned back against the mattress.

"Did anyone see you?"

"…I hid when the ambulance arrived. And then I showed up at the hospital and said we are dating.”

The hero let out a pathetic laugh.

It made the villain truly uncomfortable to see their nemesis like this. They barely moved, almost as if it was too painful to even lift a finger.

The exhaustion carved itself into the hero's face and their usually calm and perfect expression was similar to a tortured angel's.

The hero took in a deep breath.

"Why are you here?" they asked. Their voice was weak.

"I couldn't just...leave."

"Because we sleep with each other?"

The villain frowned. No, they didn't think it was because of that. If this had happened two months ago, they wouldn't have left either.

They wanted to take the hero's hand but they didn't find the courage.

"You've mentioned that a few times before and I'll say it again if you want me to: I don't care about you because you are good in bed. I care about you because I respect you and I think what you're doing is impressive."

"We are enemies," the hero reminded them.

"Enemies with benefits."

"You could have left after the ambulance arrived. You didn't have to stay and watch. You didn’t have to go to the hospital and say we are a couple," the hero argued and the villain came to the conclusion that the hero truly didn't comprehend how anyone could ever care about them.

It wasn't easy for the villain either; to accept that there was something between them, some unspoken thing that lingered in the air when they looked at each other.

Some horrible silent truth. Because, at the end, "I care about you because I respect you" was a horrible excuse for something that reached a little deeper.

Maybe that was also the reason as for why the villain was so satisfied after a night with the hero.

They couldn't imagine having someone else in their arms and if they were to find out that the hero had other lovers, the villain feared that would break them.

"It's okay that you are angry," the villain said. "I am just not sure if you are angry at me for staying or…?"

"No…no, I…I am not angry at you, it's just…I am scared of what we have." The hero's eyes found the villain's and to the villain's surprise, their serious hero let actual sadness go over their face. It looked like it didn't take much for their tears to drop.

The villain took their hand.

"What do you mean?"

"What if you use me?" the hero whispered. Their bottom lip was shaking. "What if this is a big act and you…you're trying to get information out of me or some day you will lock me up when I am asleep next to you and you will torture me and I will still love you and-"

"Listen, that is actually sick and cruel. I did do some questionable things in the past but nothing ever came close to that," the villain said. "Why would you even think I…?"

And then it dawned on the villain that it wasn't just a fear but a memory. Something the hero had experienced.

Why are you here? Because we sleep together?

The hero thought the only reason as for why the villain was here was because the villain didn't want to lose their fuck buddy.

Holy shit.

The villain could only guess what had happened to the hero in the past and how they'd been used by someone they had loved.

“Okay, please listen. I like what we have and…perhaps we could be more if you want to. I have never really been in a relationship before and I am too dumb to manipulate you. I…I don't really know what to say, I just…I am here. I am here because of you. I don't have any other motivation or desire right now. All I want is for you to be alright."

"I think I need time." They squeezed the villain's hand weakly.

"Take all the time you need," the villain said but they felt like throwing up after hearing all this.

They had thought the hero would curse them for bringing them to a hospital.

It turned out this was only the tip of the iceberg and the villain truly wasn't ready for the entire truth.

[transmutationisms]

from a non-academic, i find parts of comphet to be useful (heterosexuality becomes compulsory when you’re raised in a heterosexual society) but the foundations . suck. what do we do with theories like this, that have touched on a truth but also carry a lot of garbage? can we separate the truth from the founder?

i have to be slightly pedantic and say that i don't think rich's essay is an example of this phenomenon. my central issue with her formulation is its bioessentialist assumptions about human sex and therefore also sexuality. if i say "capitalism includes economic mechanisms that enforce heterosexual behaviour and exclude other possibilities", then what i mean by "heterosexual" is plainly not the same as what rich means—and for this reason i would seldom formulate the statement this way, without clarifying that i am talking about the enforcement of heterosexuality as a part of the creation and defence of sex/gender categories themselves. so rich and i do not actually agree on the very fundamental premises of this paper! rich was not the first or only person to point out that economic mechanisms as well as resultant social norms enforce heterosexual pairings; i actually don't even think the essay does a very clear job of interrogating the relationship between labour, economy, and the creation of sex/gender; she means something different and essentialist to what i mean by sex and sexuality; and i think her proposed responses to the phenomenon she identifies as 'compulsory heterosexuality' are uninteresting because they mainly propose psychological answers to a problem arising from conditions of political economy. so, in regards to this specific paper, i am actually totally comfortable just saying that it's not a useful formulation, and i don't feel a need to rescue elements of it.

in general, i do know what you're talking about, and i think there's a false dichotomy here: as though we must either discard an idea entirely if it has elements we dislike, or we accept it on the condition that we can plausibly claim these elements and their author are irrelevant. these are not comprehensive options. instead, i would posit that every theory, hypothesis, or idea is laden with context, including values held and assumptions made by their progenitors. the point is not to find a mythical 'objective' truth unburdened by human bias or mistakes; this is impossible. instead, i think we need to take seriously the elements of an idea that we object to. why are they there? what sorts of assumptions or arguments motivate them, and are those actually separable from whatever we like in the idea? if so, can we be clear about which aspects of the theory are still useful or applicable, and where it is that the objectionable elements arise? and if we can identify these points, then what might we propose instead? this is all much more useful, imo, than either waiting for a perfect morally unimpeachable theory or trying to 'accept' a theory without grappling with its origins (political, social, intellectual).

a recent example that you might find interesting as a kind of case study is j lorand matory's book the fetish revisited, which argues that the 'fetish' concept in freud's and marx's work drew from their respective understandings of afro-atlantic gods. in other words, when marx said capitalists "fetishise" commodities or freud spoke about sexual "fetishism", they were each claiming that viewing an object as agentive, meaning-laden in itself (ie, devoid of the context of human meaning-making as a social and political activity) was comparable to 'primitive' and delusory religious practices.

matory's point here isn't that we should reject marx's entire contribution to political economy because he was racist, nor is it that we can somehow accept parts of what marx said by just excising any racist bits. rather, matory asks us to grapple seriously with the role that marx's anthropologically inflected racism plays in his ideas, and what limitations it imposes on them. why is it that marx could identify the commodity as being discursively abstracted and 'fetishised', but did not apply this understanding to other ideas and objects in a consistent way? and how is his understanding of this process of 'fetishisation' shaped by his beliefs about afro-atlantic peoples, and their 'intelligence' or civilisational achievements in comparison to northwestern europeans'? by this critique matory is able to nuance the fetish concept, and to argue that marx's formulation of it was both reductive and inconsistently applied (analogously to how freud viewed only some sexuality as 'fetishistic'). it is true in some sense that capital and the commodity are reified and abstracted in a manner comparable to the creation of a metaphysical entity, but what we get from matory is both a better, more nuanced understanding of this process of meaning-making (incl. a challenge to the racist idea of afro-atlantic gods as simply a result of inferior intelligence or cultural development), and the critical point that if this is fetishism, then we must understand a lot more human discourse and activity as hinging on fetishisation.

the answer of what we do with the shitty or poorly formulated parts of a theory won't always be the same, obviously; this is a dialogue we probably need to have (and then have again) every time we evaluate an idea or theory. but i hope this gives you some jumping-off points to consider, and an idea of what it might look like to grapple with ideas as things inherently shaped by people—and our biases and assumptions and failings—without assuming that means we can or should just discard them any time those failings show through. the point is not to waste time trying to find something objective, but to understand the subjective in its context and with its strengths and limitations, and then to decide from there what use we can or should make of it.

[minimomoe]

Hi just wanted to let you know I LOVEDDD Not Just Neighbors but I have a question does reader know about Logan and variant reader in his past universe and if she doesn’t then who would tell her and how would she react?would she be understanding?or would she feel like Logan’s only with her to fill in variant readers place? (I don’t know if your requests are open so you can ignore this if not or if you don’t feel comfortable answering :D)

For the sake of keeping it a short (I tried my hardest but ik it's long lol) oneshot reader understands that she might have meant something to Logan in his universe but doesn't press on it since he seldom talks about his past. I kinda wrote that whole story on a whim so I didn't think too hard about it. Since you asked so nicely, here's an alternate excerpt of how that realization could've went: wrd ct: 1.9k tags: a little angsty but that's all

Not a Replacement

"Wade you gotta tell me. We're on better terms now, but why did Logan hate me so much? I hardly ever talked to him but when he sees me his face scrunches up like he smells shit. Do I smell like shit? Be honest."

Wade's nose went straight to the crook of your neck and you rolled your eyes before shoving him away. "What?! You said to be honest. You smell great though," he shrugged.

"Okay, so what was it?"

"What is what?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your patience was running thin and you didn't have time for Wade's games. "What was the reason? He's your roommate, you gotta know something."

You were sitting at Wade's dining table and you saw the food in his mouth slow to snail speed. His eyes darted to you for only a second but it was all you needed.

"Wade," you said in a warning tone. "Do you know something?"

"I know a lot of things. For instance, I know that you are the best damn cook in this whole apartment building, you're insanely gorgeous, you hate when people keep secrets, and did I mention how really fucking pretty you are?"

"You better tell me or so help me god every plate I bring you will be under seasoned and burnt to a crisp."

"Okay fine!" He dropped his sandwich onto his plate and crossed his arms over his chest. You scooched your chair in closer, finally ready to hear an explanation. "You better not tell anyone you found out from me or steak knives is gonna cut my dick off again."

"Again?" You gave him a concerned look.

"Don't try to change the subject, missy. The truth of the matter is that our resident honey badger might like you a lot more than he lets on. I am risking so much by telling you this."

"From my understanding you can't die, so how much are you really risking?"

"You don't live with him, smartass," he grumbled. Wade scratched the back of his neck, suddenly a lot more serious than you usually see him and he looked almost... apologetic. You straightened up when he hesitantly opened his mouth again. "I explained the different timelines, right? Logan isn't from our time line, I plucked from a different one and tricked him into helping me. The thing is, these timelines can be very similar to each other."

You understood it well, or as much as you could, from the first time Wade explained it to you. Time traveling, anchor beings, Paradox and Cassandra Nova all seemed too ridiculous to be true, but you knew Wade wouldn't lie about such a thing. Plus you know about mutants and Wade's regenerative powers. Of course crazier things existed.

"I'm picking up what you're putting down. What does this have to do with Logan's apprehension towards me?"

Wade sighed, running his hand over his face. "It's not apprehension, okay? Look, I noticed it too. The way that he acted like he might explode if you come too close. He knew you, and I mean knew you, personally— intimately, before and now you don't even recognize his face. I know that feels fucking horrible."

Wade stared down at his sandwich somberly like he was speaking from experience. You fell silent, ruminating on his words.

Intimately. You have never met anyone like Logan before, but he already knew you. There was nothing you could even compare this to. You slowly got up from your seat and patted Wade on the shoulder. Your mood was dampening at the new information.

"Uh, thanks man."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you. I don't blame you but you're all weird now," he groaned. "You're not a replacement. She could've been entirely different. She could've be Catholic."

He was expecting a smirk from you at the very least but got nothing. "That doesn't really help."

Wade watched you slump out of his apartment to head back to yours without another word. He could literally see the cloud of gloom forming over your head and he groaned dramatically.

"Canadians are supposed to be nice people. I should know! Leave it to the Australian to ruin that for us."

---*---

Logan could smell the difference in your mood around him. You were on edge, giving him sneaking side eyes when you thought he wasn't looking and nervously biting on your thumbnail. Something was bothering you, something pertaining to him, and you didn't know how to bring it up.

It would be hypocritical of him to drag out the issue with you, but he never played fair before.

"If you stare at me any harder bub, you're gonna put a hole in my head."

He offered to take you out to get dinner instead of staying in. It was nothing fancy, just a small Indian restaurant that he found on a whim, but he remembered you saying that it was one of your favorite ethnic foods to eat. The short walk back to home was just to kill more time to spend with you, but you were hardly saying anything.

You pinched your bottom lip between your two fingers, rolling it over slowly. "It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all."

The dismissive answer did nothing for Logan. He gave you a hard stare that you didn't return. Instead you walked a few paces ahead of him, leaving him behind.

"Hey!" Logan called out to you, grabbing your arm. You reeled back, shaking him off and pursed your lips together. The sudden coldness wafting off of you made him panic internally. Did he say something he shouldn't have? Did you suddenly get tired of keeping things friendly. Was he reading you all wrong? All those questions burned the back of his throat but he rather ask the obvious one.

"I've seen you tired and this ain't it. What's the problem?"

Finally you returned his gaze with an cautionary look. "What really happened between us Logan? In the past, or a different timeline, or whatever the fuck. How much history is between us?"

The question knocked Logan over like a mack truck. This was not the type of conversation he wanted to have with you in the middle of the street with cars honking and passersby brushing past, but you were standing your ground. Logan ran a weary hand through his hair then rested it on his hip. If he wanted to make this work with you, he'd have to be honest with himself.

“Did Wilson run his mouth—“

“Forget about him. I’m asking you.”

He stared at you dead on, looking into your eyes that were uncertain of him. "You left me.”

You stiffened up, the statement making you falter.

"And I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. You gave me chance after chance to get my shit together and I didn't. I was breaking your heart and you didn't want to stick around to watch me crash."

Logan sat down on the nearest street bench. The headlights of oncoming traffic blinded his visage with a pure bright white before turning. He could hear your pleas from time's past, your dissapointed tone. He could hear the screams of his x-men, his family that he left behind.

"You visited me after they... after the humans killed the x-men. You saw the damage that was done and you hated me for it."

Logan felt the thud of you sitting on the other side of the bench. He didn't look at you, now taken with his memories, but you were no longer on the run. You wanted to hear his side that he never got to tell anyone.

"They were like family to you too. Ororo, Charles, Jean, Scott. You loved them, so when you found out that they were gone and I was still alive..." Logan's voice trailed off and his head hung low. "I was never a hero. Or a good guy. I was a selfish asshole who left when things got tough. I couldn't save my relationship with you, or save the people I owe my life to because the only thing I'm good at is destroying things. Then I come to this world and you givin' me this bright eyed, hopeful look and I couldn't handle it."

New York City has never been known as a quiet city but there was an eerie silence that ensued. It was like everybody was holding their breath, silently listening to Logan’s darkest confessions.

"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. What I did before keeps me up at night, eats me from inside. But being around you again... shit, it reminds me that I didn't lose everything.”

A long beat of silence stretched after Logan's words. You stared into on coming traffic too, unable to form words. You held your arms together, the cool breeze of the night chilling your bones.

“Fuck,” you sighed, a wave a guilt washing over you. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

He shook his head. “You have the right to know.”

“I just made you spill your guts out on this public bench because I was worried that I was some freaky look a like for somebody that you used to know.” You put your head in your hands and groaned. “I can’t speak for past me because she isn’t me… but I am glad to have you here in this timeline, Logan. If it’s any consolation, it seems like we were always supposed to find each other.”

Logan couldn’t be more grateful for that fact. He never sought out to use you to fix some broken piece in him. It just happened that if given the chance, he would choose to love you every single time. Given all his mistakes, loving you was never a wrong choice.

You scooted closer to Logan’s still body, closing the distance until your thigh was pressed against his. You leaned over until your head was resting on his shoulder, soaking up his body heat. Neither of you said anything for a while. You didn’t need to.

Logan’s voice travelled through your body when he spoke again. It was gruff, making him clear his throat before starting over. “They had a nickname for me according to the TVA. They called me 'the Worst Logan'.”

“Do you believe that?” You peered up at him. It was that same look that made him want to run for the hills. You were disarming without even trying. He felt naked, unable to hide his beating heart that you held in your hands. After a thick swallow he was able to answer.

“Not as much. I’m better than before.”

You nodded, content with his response. “And you’ll keep on getting better. The TVA doesn’t know what they’re talking about anyway.”

You slipped your hand under Logan’s that rested on his thigh and he quickly squeezed it like a lifeline.

“I’m not subbing you in for anyone, bub. Plus, past you was never this sappy,” he joked.

“Oh fuck off,” you chuckled. “But thank you. For telling me everything.”

“You’re easy to talk to,” he shrugged.

You and Logan remained on the bench for a little while longer. The sleepless city continued to hum along, cars honking and people talking, and you sat there absorbing it all, hands still entwined together.

thank you so much for the request! sorry it took so long, I was trying to balance angst and good ending. Check out Not Just Neighbors ("the worst" Logan x Reader) for more context! I'd love to hear y'all thoughts xx!!

M.list || Ao3 || Twitter

[two-red-butterflies]

the bravest soldier | m33

Description: Max Verstappen and his girlfriend go inside a taxi (not knowing that it's a prank set up for him) in which, their relationship is made public.

Pairing: max verstappen/model!leclerc!reader

yournameleclerc1 he loves himself ladies and gentlemen 💙

tagged: max verstappen

239 comments 123,210 likes

user19: UMM??? Y/N??? baramram3: i smell y/n x max ��� maxverstappen1: 😆

"It's more of a red and orange day," he explained, moving his arms around and placing the cap on his head. He fancied himself a fashion connoisseur at home, even helping you pick out outfits for work - but when he was out with friends and the media? The same cap was on his head - the same polo, and it was frustrating.

"I actually feel proud 'cuz I forced you to wear white," you chuckled as he opened the taxi door. "Don't be too cocky, liefde." he rolled his eyes - helping you carry the luggage inside the car.

"Maybe I'll get you to wear red soon," you add - and he gently nudges you inside. "The day that pigs fly - maybe." he laughed, settling his hand on your thigh. The taxi driver in front of you looked familiar - but you couldn't remember where you saw him.

"Oi! Are you Max Verstappen?" the man rudely asks and your boyfriend nods his head. His grip on your thigh tightens - praying to the gods that he wouldn't recognize you. "Yes," he answered politely, playing with the straps of your seatbelt. He was a professional driver but seldom wore it in the passenger seat.

"Very nice eh? Must be the dream." the man complimented, moving his car away from a section of the airport. "We'll be going to ******," your boyfriend informs while fastening the seatbelt around your waist. "If you don't mind - I don't use those digital map thingies. I think that if you wanna be a taxi driver, you gotta know the roads." the man rambled, and your boyfriend continued smiling.

"Yeah, I guess that's the best way to get around things." he replied while playing with his phone. He couldn't believe that the both of you were unlucky enough to score a chatty driver. "How about the girl beside you? Is she your sister?" the man asks intrusively, and a nervous chuckle escapes both of your lips.

"No, she's uhh - my girlfriend." Max confirmed proudly, wrapping his free hand around you. "That very nice," the man nodded his head - trying to get out of a conversation that he started.

leclercuniverse16: ya'll...check channel 4 💀

arthurleclercsupporter1192: YA'LL CHANNEL 4 IS LIVE??? HOW DID REDBULL APPROVE THIS?? HOW DID MAX VERSTAPPEN'S PR TEAM APPROVE THIS??? HOW DID Y/N LECLERC'S PR TEAM APPROVE THIS?? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

charles16ismydaddy: what is going on? i don't have ch 4 - arthurleclercsupporter1192: they were doing one of those gags where they prank celebrities and MAX VERSTAPPEN went inside the taxi with Y/N LECLERC AND HE SAID "No she's my gf" LIKE

LandoNorris

"Y/n what was that?"

Y/N:

landaurrnorris12: lando wtf is this 😭 - LandoNorris: had to jump on it before charles finds out

bellawherehaveubeenloca: TELL CARLOS TO TELL CHARLES - LandoNorris: I think Checo would appreciate having a teammate that's alive ✌🏼

"I'm sorry, I think I took the wrong turn." the taxi driver apologizes, quickly pulling up a paper map from his pocket. "It's totally fine," you smiled at him, playing Helix Jump on your cellphone. He begins driving towards an empty field - to the right place.

"I'm sorry but I got to take a wee," the man apologizes again and your boyfriend agrees; mumbling something along the lines that he understands. Once the taxi driver was out of the car, Max began to panic. "Where are you going?" you ask and he opens the door.

"I think we should get out," he informed you, taking your seatbelt off. "Why?" you inquire - caught in headlights in the sight of danger. "There might be a bomb here," he explained and your eyebrows merged into each other. "Like assassins sent by Ferrari or something," you attempt to lighten the situation but ultimately - the both of you exit the vehicle.

Wildunchartedwatteers

Charles getting out of his car to find Max and Y/N

Y/NL/NWORLDGOSSIP

"Assasins sent by ferrari" Nooooo the enemy (Max Emillian Verstappen) has brainwashed you!!

After a long ride - you finally reached your destination. Max made sure that you were the first person to exit the car. "What's with the cameras?" the man asked while helping your boyfriend take a few of the remaining luggage inside the car. "Umm I don't know - probably something about a documentary," he shrugged, telling the cameras to leave you out of the frame.

"Wait really? Really?" the man repeated the question while taking his disguise off. An amused chuckle exits your lips - he was one of the interviewers for the sports channel. "Fucking hell mate," Max laughed, realizing that it was a setup. "I thought that you were some creep," he grinned while scratching the back of his head.

"He was prepared to run away," you say from behind the camera. "I hope it's fine that I exposed your relationship," the man apologized - quickly telling Max that it wasn't part of the plan. "Nah, you're fine mate - we've been meaning to tell the public anyways." he comforted - freezing once he sees the faint figure of your brother running towards the both of you.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

Saw that Daisy Ridley's new movie, Young Woman and The Sea, has come out, and I got curious about it as it seemed to have a high IMDB score, and then I clicked on the reviews, and among all the "wonderfuls", "outstandings", "poignants" and "masterpieces" - most of which come from bot accounts with not a single other review - was this:

So it turns out it's yet another made-up bit of ahistorical revisionist propaganda like that Aeronauts one in 2019 and so many others, that the corrupt critics have to mandatorily praise for ideological reasons, and thousands of women leave theaters believing to be true.

---------

It often strikes me that women's approach to, and understanding of, art is most often a kind of emotional voyeurism: Female-created works seldom scratch much deeper into the human condition or the nature of truth or the flow of history or any of the most longstanding questions of life, the universe and everything than the subjective feelings of a single female protagonist, and the majority of female audiences seem to be perfectly happy with the plot or facts or internal logic of a story making no sense whatsoever, just as long as they can get that emotional hit of feeling outrage or "empowerment" or a flood of sugary comfort and well-being.

This is why it disturbs me to see so many catastrophically bad female-created fantasy TV shows being churned out today like The Acolyte, Ms Marvel, She-Hulk and Thelma, all of which are simply very badly written first-time fan-fictions, ideological propaganda and self-insert revenge fantasies. The women making them don't need - indeed, are not even capable of envisioning - anything more than that, and the dwindling female audience that gobbles them up and incoherently defends them can't even see and don't even care that they are being lied to and manipulated in any way. All that matters is the feelings: to them, truth and greatness and genius itself are simply nice feeling-provoking noises, with no further weight or significance, that can be applied to any lumpy bowel movement you drop off on the red carpet of any awards show.

There are women artists possessed of genius - not many, but some - but feminism erases their achievements by relentlessly elevating mediocrity and making their possession of a set of ovaries the only thing of interest about them. By denying and rejecting any objective set of criteria to judge the worth of any works of art, feminism destroys beauty, history, truth and the greatness of human spirit.

[rey-jake-therapist]

If Sauron just wanted an "assistant" and a "figurehead" who would let him do everything he wanted while happily doing his bidding, Mirdania was a much better pick than Galadriel.

I mean, It's always about what "Sauron wanted", but it's never "how Galadriel would have reacted". If he seriously believed that Galadriel would have been okay with being a powerless puppet, then he was even more delulu than I thought lmao Unlike him, Galadriel's not a follower. If she had taken his offer in season 1, she would have fought to get what he promised, I have no doubt about that !

Mirdania, on the other hand, was so easy to manipulate. That's why I wonder if he didn't consider making her, probably not his queen, but what Charlie said : his assistant/PR/figurehead... We all saw him manipulate her to isolate Celebrimbor and make him more vulnerable to his abusive techniques, which was definitely what Sauron was doing with her, partly at least.

Yet, before Mirdania put on the ring and passed in the Unseen world, he didn't care at all about her. She was trying to be friendly with him, and he just stood like... "Is this an insect on my back ?"

But after Celebrimbor put the ring off her finger, that was his reaction when she said what she saw :

Ohh suddenly Mirdania became interesting to him. Because she had been there. Suddenly, he was all over her, even a little too much over her (get your hands off her you creepo!!) :

I think there were many things in this gesture, which is weird even by his own standards; Sauron's a man of words, he seldom touches people to manipulate them.

1st meaning : he was manipulating her : the most obvious meaning. But he had already gotten into her pants when he compared her to "the lady Galadriel", there was no real need to touch her like that.

2nd meaning : he was thinking of Galadriel : ship or don't ship Haladriel, but Mirdania was totally meant to be Galadriel's stand-in: she was blond, with an identical hairstyle, and she wore an almost identical green dress to the one Gal wore in Eregion. And Sauron immediatly noticed it when she came to meet him the first time. Look at how he's looking at her from feet to head, then start immediatly flirting with her :

So, Sauron likely got carried away by his obsession for Galadriel when he touched Mirdania's hair, here.

3rd meaning : maybe, maybe, he started thinking that Mirdania could indeed provide a replacement for Galadriel, in his plans.

Then there was this scene :

Another unnecessary touching. An intimate one that is, look at what he's doing ! We never saw him touch anyone like this before, not even for manipulation sake. It felt like he was trying to feel something. Something in relation to his obsession for Galadriel, again : if he couldn't get Galadriel, maybe Mirdania could do ? But then his face looked like... Not convinced. Not convinced at all.

Later in that same episode, Sauron created an illusion for Celebrimbor where Eregion was doing fine so he would go back to work. After Celebrimbor left (so the illusion was no longer needed), this scene involving a Galadriel lookalike and a faceless man (likely to be a self-insert) telling her these words took place, and caught his attention :

I think it's when he realized that there could be no replacement for Galadriel. He didn't want a pretty submissive Elf girl who would be only perfect for the PR and the paperwork, he wanted the fiery Galadriel who wanted his death.

I mean, it makes Mirdania and Sauron's last interaction easier to understand; he was back at being cold and uncaring, while he was not done with Celebrimbor yet ! He could have still needed to manipulate her, and yet he just looked annoyed when she reached for his hand :

I don't know about you, but the moment I saw the way he looked at her I thought, "oh Mirdania dear, you're so dead". I think it's the moment he decided she was disposable, because whatever project he had for her was cancelled. This cold cynical bastard even told her she would be "duly rewarded".

We all know what came next :

(R.I.P. Mirdania, sorry, really)

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

unsaid

how gn!reader and spencer handle deeper feelings with each other- or how they don't handle them.

angsty fluff? some hard feelings? idk WHAT this is word count: 1258 warnings & tags & stuff: I was picturing mid seasons spence for this, brief mention of a spider?, insecure reader, ugh they're SO in love but also so quiet about it, ignoring problems, happyish ending author's note: first piece of writing on here! this is actually so bad but my brain is ROTTED from spencer fluff and honestly him in general, he's all i can think about so obviously i have to contribute to the epidemic

“HELP!”

You hear footsteps bounding towards you and the door to the kitchen slam open. Spencer’s head swivels as he assesses the situation: you, backed into a corner, clutching a glass, looking directly at a point across the room with a terrified look in your eyes. Spencer’s face immediately relaxes and he moves over to take the glass from you.

“Where is it?” He asks calmly. You point, and the spider is quickly dealt with and brought outside. Spencer walks back into your apartment and you look at him, blushing a little, heart still pounding.

“Thanks,” you say, self-effacingly, taking the glass back from him and setting it in the sink. “I'm sorry for bothering you, I know you were in the middle of doing some work, and I know that my reaction was completely irrational, it’s just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, reaching out to trace your arm lightly. “It's alright. It’s actually completely justifiable. Our brain is wired to be afraid of spiders because they were a larger threat to our ancestors. Today, although we seldom encounter spiders and they are not a constant threat to us, we still have this fear because it’s ingrained in our DNA,” he explains, trying to calm your anxiety. “I’m also around 80 percent done with my report. So I can finish it later in the week. I'm all yours.” He peers down at you, a small smile playing on his face. You admire his smile for a second or two before his words actually register and you squint disbelievingly.

“I don't know how I feel about that. I shouldn't be taking you from your…duties,” you say, tilting your head.

“My duties?” he asks, matching the angle of your head, laughing a little. You shrug, giving him a slight giggle too.

“Okay, duties are the wrong word. But you do do important work that I should recognise has to take priority sometimes. I bet Hotch would rather you finish your report tonight.” He nods quietly, and you know he agrees. He beckons his head, a signal you’ve come to know means ‘come closer and hug me’. You do so, hugging him tightly and letting his arms wrap around you. You back away after a bit and give him a signal of your own- standing on your tiptoes and looking at him expectantly. He bends down and kisses you firmly, arms still wrapped around you.

Your entire relationship is built off of signals like these. You two just seem to know when the other wants something, whether it be a hug or a kiss, or something more. It made things easy.

So you were also sure that Spencer knew that this kiss was making your heart literally melt. It’s like he can reach in through your sternum and hold your heart until it dissolves in his hands. You can feel it dripping through the cracks into your bloodstream until your legs are jelly and your head is spinning.

You pull away for air and rest your head on his chest.

“How about we compromise and I do it tomorrow?” He asks softly.

Your mouth creates an uncomfortable line. “I know I’m obviously not the boss of you, so feel free to do whatever it is you want…” You pause, trying to find the words. “I just feel like it’s important for me to not take you away from your work at all.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t completely askew from what you meant to say.

The real, slightly more selfish truth was that you felt like it was easier to send Spencer off to do his work than to try and understand why he wouldn't always want to. You constantly felt so raw and open around him. Like he could always see you and your melting heart. It was insanely scary and new, and not easy at all.

That was not something you were willing to admit today, not right now.

“No, you're not the boss of me, but I do think you have opinions worth listening to and considering.” He kisses the top of your head. He pushes your hair back and looks you directly in the eye. “But I also really don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask me for things. Being in the BAU requires a sort of responsibility. Not to just do my work by the time it’s needed, but to also take breaks and spend time with the people I want to be around. Whether it’s to catch spiders or to give her kisses. Okay?” He checks.

“Okay,” you say quietly. He looks at you patiently, knowing that you had more feelings in your heart but also knowing that it was hard to come out and say it. It was a topic for another night, a braver night. He dips his head down to you, and smiles, almost excitedly.

“Ice cream?” You smile too at the change of topic, and nod.

“Can we get changed first?”

In your bedroom, you throw on a massive white T-shirt that you may or may not have stolen from Spencer many weeks ago, along with a pair of shorts. You turn your head over your shoulder to where Spencer was digging around in his bag. “Did you pack comfy clothes? I know we didn’t discuss sleeping over or anything,” you ask.

“Uh, yeah, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” he responds, not looking up. You dig through your drawers and toss him one of his own shirts, this one Dr. Who themed and navy blue. It lands on his face and he swats it away. “Hey, I was wondering where this went!” He exclaims, looking up at you, offended. He takes notice of your shirt, and stands up straight and moves toward you, feeling your shirt between his fingers. “This too. Theft is in fact a crime.” You blush bashfully in response.

“I like your shirts. They’re cuter than mine,” you argue. He shakes his head, smiling. Soon enough, you're on the couch, working on a pint of Tonight Dough.

Your legs are intertwined and you’re laying on his chest, trying to get to the ice cream he was teasing you with, moving away as you chase it with the spoon. “Stop it,” you giggle. He wrestles the spoon from your grip and digs it in the ice cream.

“Open,” he says quietly. You do so, savoring the taste.

You stay like that for a good while longer, just holding each other, until you break the silence.

“Thanks for making time for me tonight,” you whisper, giving him a soft kiss on his chin. He looks at you and gives you a kiss on your forehead. A meaningful one. One that said a few things that were too scary to say.

It was nice, knowing that you had time to figure out your emotions, that there was no hurry. Your problems and insecurities would still be there tomorrow. You could choose to ignore them for a bit. You could look away from the fact that you weren’t exactly sure why Spencer picked you out of all the other girls. Spencer could ignore the fact that going to work was the most terrifying thing because he finally had something to lose. You could just stay like that, intertwined, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

You let the rest of the ice cream melt on the couch side table, not unlike your heart, neither of you strong enough to get up and put it back in the freezer.

[tamamita]

What did you think of the woman life freedom movement in Iran? (Writing this it's like...what a name, if one says they're against it they are against women life and freedom? Lol) Not sure if it was western from the start or got coopted, I just know I saw a protest in support once by accident in US and people had the flag with the lion so. 🙃

The thing is that they are unorganized, heck there's seldom a leader or political figure to lead these groups. These movements are never structured or organized which is why IRCG keeps cracking down on those protests. The Iranian Revolution was largely successful owing to the Tudeh Marxists, because of their understanding of theory, until ultimately betrayed by the reactionary clerical establishment. Since the revolution up till today, Iran has been a deeply fragmeneted society where people have various ideologies. You got principlists, reformists, marxists, liberals, upper-class elites, pahlavists, anti-VeF Shi'as, MEKs, anarchists, feminists, socdems, opportunists and various other groups that oppose the government, but ultimately lack any theory. For such a reason, these protests turn out to be highly inefficient and counterproductive, since there's like no... strategy other than to remove the Hijab as some form of protest or gesture. That's great and all, but that's not gonna stop the government from cracking down on you, and appealing to the west for some symbolic gesture is not gonna do any good, since they don't give a shit, unless it serves their geopolitical interests and imperialist ambitions.

Learn from previous revolutionary and resistance movements if you wish to succeed.

[rxzennia]

echoes from afar

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 your friends… they call for you. this was from a few version updates ago, but i've been mad busy and unmotivated these days… :( lore with a sprinkle of aventurine. a very, very tiny sprinkle. so i thought i could get this up last week. i am a clown. also, samsung's one ui 6 is so ugly (edit: i got used to the ugly ui. still doesn't quite like it, though. but i got used to it enough to tolerate it). 

→ part ii (wip? deciding. lmk if a sequel sounds cool.)

you didn't think you'd hear your own species ever again. oroboros is somewhere in the universe, qlipoth was probably keeping them out of where civilizations are, and the rest are all either dead or scattered. but here you are, hearing distant screeches from a star system lightyears away from yours, the sound slowly getting closer, closer, closer.

the war between aeons seems inevitable now that you've walked the land amongst mortals, seen their strife, and tasted the ever-so-familiar touch of entwining paths heralding the conflict. the longer you spend living, masquerading as someone who will someday die, you see the violent undercurrents under every calm ocean, as if everything is running on a countdown.

of course, you will never truly understand any of that; time has never been a limited resource for you.

you can almost hear the screeches of your own kin right by your ear

but you know, clear as day, that there's only you on the balcony right now

you're alone on the balcony of aventurine's bedroom, your boss snoring away comfortably cuddled up to his cats

you haven't been able to sleep for a while

not since you've heard the first cry of a leviathan in literally ages

leviathans seldom communicate with one another, so why would they suddenly reach out now?

and you were fairly certain that oroboros is the only other one left

well, the only one that's still actively doing who-knows-what somewhere, anyways

either what you're hearing is the lingering cries of those who are already gone

or you're delusional and you're hallucinating

aventurine doesn't seem to notice your absence, probably because of his abundance of things to cuddle with apart from your person. a good thing, you suppose, because your chronically stressed boss needs his beauty sleep.

you don't intend to drag anyone into your worries. it's nothing you can't handle alone – or, rather, it's not something mortals can handle, even with an organization as robust as the ipc. your existence, your true descent of a dusk leviathan, your connection to the aeon of voracity, none of which are burdens your companions should bear. 

it's these quiet moments when your kin raises their voices and sing in your ears

no, scrap that poetic shit, more like screech in your ears

they recognize prey, they recognize a hunting ground, a free-for-all

it's only natural, you suppose, lest predators start to devour each other in hunger

they're trying to locate you, the sound echoing, bouncing back, as they seek out food

"i'd strongly advise against doing that," you mumble, patting your scarf idly, as if you can't be bothered to care

they're not too far from where your true form slumbers, it seems, and it's easier than a cakewalk to force them into submission

and yet, you cannot locate them

you have their general location, but you can't pinpoint their exact coordinates

you try again, and again, until you come to a realization

they're dead a long time ago; there is nothing for you to find

their wails echo into nothingness, a void that is even more empty than oroboros's stomach

by the time you realize the purpose of these ancient cries, your true form is already stirring from its slumber. in all its majesty, its maw parting to split heaven and hell, until it swallows the carcasses of your kin, until it slithers through the stars, seeking out its next meal.

for the first time in the entire two thousand amber eras of your "existence", you feel hungry. famished, even, and it is a strange feeling.

have you gotten too accustomed to the mundane?

have you been domesticated?

quite some good questions, actually

how long has it been since you've actually allowed yourself the pleasure of devouring planets?

far too long

but it's wrong to eat civilizations

it's wrong to put an end to so many histories and futures because you were feeling peckish

it doesn't even actually "fill" you, so that's just triple the wrong

well, by the textbook definition of wrong, anyways

you don't really understand, but you know the general consensus of "eating people bad"

but your stomach yearns for the familiar feeling of life in its void

you turn around to take a peek at the peacefully sleeping man in the bed, safely tucked away in the blankets

a perfect prey right there, defenseless and unsuspecting

it would be so easy to just gobble him up without anyone noticing

and you could slip away just as easily

your entire profile is fabricated – you can always just make another "you" elsewhere 

but you find yourself extremely reluctant to even wake your extension coiled around the oddly-shaped cats

you find the trust that mortals impart upon you a gift of most intrigue

it is such a fragile, precious thing, and yet they offer it to you freely

especially this man who you serve as an assistant…

aventurine. 

it isn't even his real name, but you find yourself mouthing the syllables again and again. this man who is bestowed the title of a gemstone, wielding the power of the amber lord who strives to protect mortals from your kind like you're some sort of eldritch horror, yet also the one who has you wrapped around his finger.

and you're one of the select few he holds close to his heart. against all odds, he had let you into his heart, see his wounds and scars, and trusts you with all of them. he might act the way he does, but you know how delicate he is underneath all that bravado.

out of curiosity, you try to move the leviathan amongst the pile of limbs, sheets, and felines

as you expected, it doesn't want to answer

it seems that your body doesn't want to act on any malicious intents

you really did get domesticated… 

oh, aeons, it'll come back and bite you in the ass someday, won't it?

even if you have no qualms about eating anything that's not intelligent 

like monsters and stuff

but still

you shouldn't have developed aversion to devouring entire persons

…

it is what it is, you suppose

but holy fuck, those screeches from galaxies away just would not stop

"fucking oroboros, shut the hell up already," you groan, pulling up your scarf to muffle your complaints, "i'm not eating anyone here."

if there was someone behind all this pestering, you definitely would've gone and beaten them up. but. but. there's no one behind this. none that you can think of.

unless it really is oroboros themselves, which you'll have an even bigger problem on your hands. you really hope it isn't.

the noises clear up into words, whispering into your ears

consume. devour. feed. destroy. 

cast them into the void. let them be your sustenance. take their power as your own.

you are a predator. why are you among prey?

they are many but fragile. why do you still hesitate?

no.

no, they are not fragile.

they are not prey.

they are not sustenance.

do not speak of them as if they are nothing but food.

what do you know of the people inhabiting the countless planets in the cosmos?

what do you know of the storms they have weathered?

humanity is stronger than you would ever know.

tonight will be a long night, it seems. you can only hope that this doesn't manifest as some sort of personality disorder. come morning, these thoughts will go away as your mind becomes occupied with work.

there are four system hours until then. 

a leviathan like you, a monster of the cosmos… 

shut up. shut up. shut up. shut up. shut up.

be quiet already.

wish as you may, they will continue to torment you.

why? because they seek answers.

how long will you keep wearing the skin of sheep?

[seyaryminamoto]

Azula's most overlooked characterization element

Why, hello there.

It is I.

And I'm back on my bullshit.

I didn't WANT to be. But a bunch of factors pulled me back in.

For the record: I'm not here to start any fights or light the fuse of arguments that I most likely won't have time or interest in responding to. What I AM here for... is to prove that there's something out there a bunch of people are delighted to sleep on because acknowledging it would render maaaany simplistic interpretations entirely invalid...

That group of people includes the fandom, of course. And the original show's staff. And the liveaction's staff, to a fault. Surely the TTRPG ones too. And absolutely, the comic book writers.

Hell, I'll even include MYSELF in that group, even though I'm making this post right now.

I found it really curious that I very recently saw this element mentioned in a pretty neat blog I follow, @atla-lore-archive, I absolutely advise anyone who hasn't checked out said archive to do it if you wish to understand a lot of the "extra lore" the fandom had access to, back in the old days when the turbonick ATLA site still existed and used to be the only source of deeper knowledge about the fandom besides the occasional interview that most people didn't even know where to track down.

But the funny thing is that the post I'm talking about proved that even Turbonick forgot about the people this post is about :')

And that would beeeeeeee...

*cue drumroll*

Lo and Li!

What makes Lo and Li an important subject to discuss?

Why, a lot of things. Among them, the fact that almost nobody brings them into the core focus of any analysis made about Azula's character. I've personally mentioned them once or twice I believe, mostly as negatives, there's but ONE positive aspect I've ever found of them: them being non-benders MIGHT be a reason why Azula isn't shown as being quite so obsessive with firebending supremacy as Zuko was supposed to be.

But that's very much the sole good thing I can think to say about them and it's completely subjective, as good as a headcanon, because we don't even KNOW if they influenced Azula in that sense!

Why do they seem to get overlooked quite as much? Why... let's start thinking about it, shall we?

Lo and Li are Azula's firebending teachers. As far as anyone can tell, they're also her advisors. These two people should be an essential part of Azula's life... but ironically, we seldom see them with her. Most times, Azula isn't around these two. Whenever she is? It doesn't usually look like she's having a good time.

And that's no surprise, considering her first scene with those two very much puts forward a dynamic of cold distance between Azula and her mentors: Azula is bending LIGHTNING. We have not heard of other lightningbenders until that point, and once the full show wraps up, there's only THREE (Azula, Ozai, Iroh). Out of those three? Only one is a fourteen-year-old girl. It's very easy to assume Azula's lightning is actually a skill she mastered unusually early in life, perhaps relatively recently, hence the practicing... but she's pulling it off. She's succeeding. She's doing something that genuinely catches a first-time viewer off-guard!

And Lo and Li's entire opinion of what she did is: "Almost perfect. One hair out of place."

This tells you the Fire Nation's idea of "imperfection" is... insane. Strict. Imposing. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Azula's reaction isn't to get angry at Lo and Li for saying what they did: it's to get angry at herself and try again.

But... that's not the only instance where we see Azula getting angry around Lo and Li.

The next few times Azula is around them, she doesn't seem to have much of an emotional reaction (one is when they tell her to find other allies, the other when they herald her as a great hero who returned home from Ba Sing Se). In the second of these scenes, Lo and Li are praising Azula as incredible, beautiful, all sorts of grand things...! And Azula smiles. She smiles at the crowd. She's not smiling at the old ladies who are praising her... she's mostly just happy to know her people are welcoming her as a hero indeed! Most the fandom would go "true! what an ungrateful bitch! She should've been happy that Lo and Li complimented her that way!!" Me? I wouldn't say that at all. Not just because I love Azula to pieces? But because the only information we have of Azula's dynamics with these two... doesn't seem compatible with the idea that what Lo and Li are saying here is for AZULA'S benefit.

Anyone who's had a hypocritical parent/caretaker/teacher must have endured awkward, horrible, unpleasant moments where this adult figure treats you like shit in private but in public holds you as this grand example, and a perfect child, and they never seem to stop saying they're soooo proud of you even though you NEVER felt that what they're saying is true. Maybe the first few times, you're naive enough to believe it. By the tenth time of incongruent messages? You start to realize they're talking you up as a way to make themselves look better. They're trying to show they're doing their job at raising you/training you, be it whatever it may. The praises are not FOR you... they're for a third person to hear and think "Oh, this adult's so cool, saying nice things about this kid they're responsible for! Nice!"

... You're starting to get the picture now, I'm sure.

Lo and Li reappear in the Beach. Azula is notably chill, enjoying the ride, talking casually with Ty Lee, telling Zuko to lighten up and to stop taking Ozai's choices personally, right? She seems... content. Relaxed.

Then, everything changed when Lo and Li attacked.

We don't even see why Azula is making this face at first. But she does it AT ONCE when their ship reaches the dock.

Who is there indeed...?

The stars of our post! :') if it isn't our elderly twin ladies... who brought Azula to a very disappoting beach house. And when Azula sees the house in question, she makes THIS face.

Judge however you may... even Ty Lee is weirded out by the beach house, going by that expression. Zuko and Mai aren't impressed either. But Azula? The look on her face isn't merely disappointment if you ask me... part of it looks a bit like embarrassment too? This isn't at all what she was expecting when she arrived (she has her old beach house for standards, which makes this extra underwhelming, I'm sure). She counts on Lo and Li to provide them with a place to stay, it goes implicit... and then this is what they do. It most likely isn't what she promised the other three in terms of where they'd stay, hence, I'd dare say there's a component of embarrassment here.

Shortly afterwards, we have our well known scene with Azula being utterly unconcerned with Lo and Li's apparent wisdom to the point of yawning over it. This, too, tells you she's just not interested in whatever those two have to say or bring to the table. Then, they show up again at mealtime and I think Azula just ignores them the whole scene.

After this? Lo and Li vanish until the finale. And what do they do in the finale? Why... it's the first time anyone expresses a verbal concern over Azula's wellbeing! Ah! A sign that Lo and Li have SOME affection for Azula! This time, you pesky Azula fans, you CAN'T twist this into a bad thing! For sure!

... Can't we, tho? :')

What IS Azula's reaction to: "We are concerned for your wellbeing"?

"My father asked you to come here and talk to me, didn't he‌? He thinks I can't handle the responsibility of being Fire Lord. But I will be the greatest leader in Fire Nation history."

And here, my friends, is when we have finally hit the jackpot.

Lo and Li could have been Azula's Irohs. She could've had TWO of him! Then you'd say: "hey! Ozai is such a dick he let Azula have two elderly wise ladies guiding her but only gave one old wise dude to Zuko! Rude!" and it would be further proof of Ozai's favoritism of Azula, right?

... But actually?

Lo and Li are no such thing. Lo and Li aren't moral compasses for Azula in the least. Lo and Li are not beacons of wisdom that genuinely help her sort her way through life. Worth noting: THEY COULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN THAT WAY. They're not. They're not part of mysterious secret societies, they don't help Azula in any objective, significant, tangible way... there's very much nothing to say they EVER fulfilled the role Iroh did for Zuko. What role, then, were they fulfilling instead?

Why... I think we ought to listen to Azula, shouldn't we?

My take: Lo and Li are OZAI'S STAND-INS.

Someone's going to say "hey why would you assume that when Azula said this in the middle of a breakdown?? Surely she was just DELUSIONAL and PARANOID and ashdgkadhsgkjgh...!"

... Let me counter that one with a fun little analysis excercise:

WHY are Lo and Li Azula's firebending teachers and advisors?

The finale very directly tells us these two are not benders. We could've assumed they were! They're not: Azula's teachers are non-benders.

Has a single person out there ever asked themselves WHY this is the case?

How the hell is Azula, prodigy of the blue fire, epic lightning, cruel and powerful and precise and deadly bending... training under two elderly nonbenders?

Bringing this to a real-life example: do you remember what it was like when you were in P.E. classes and your teacher told you to spend 20 minutes jogging, and if you ever stopped you had to do 20 crunches and then get back to the jogging, and every time you stopped he'd tell you the same thing and you'd want that guy to vanish from the face of the planet? I don't know if that was only my experience, but I rather doubt it.

What did kids typically think/say when that happened?

"I wanna see that old fart doing the same shit he's making us do..."

It's a headcanon indeed to say that this is how Azula must have felt over Lo and Li, but it's VERY likely to be the case. But I'd dare say, in Azula's case, it's even worse because, to put it in another way? It's like taking programming lessons from someone who's never learned a programming language. They'll tell you you're getting things wrong without knowing how to help you get them right because they just DON'T KNOW what you're doing, and are outright INCAPABLE of what you're trying to achieve. They can't offer good guidance based on experience because they have ZERO experience on that subject! And yet they want PERFECTION from you! They expect it!

Lo and Li are these teachers for Azula. We only see them in one scene? And yet everything in the rest of the show suggests that they bring nothing important to the table for Azula, be it professionally, be it personally, be it emotionally... not in any aspect of life.

And this, if you ask me, is why the OG show barely ever brings them into scenes. Why the comics flat-out forgot they existed and even featured people like Sozin and Azulon in Azula's beach hallucinations but NOT the two ladies who looked after her and trained her. Why the live-action didn't even FEATURE them.

And us? The fandom? The fic writers?

I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I READ A FIC THAT HAD LO AND LI INVOLVED IN IT.

I'm not even saying as main characters, I don't even know if that exists, frankly: I mean as minor, or background characters. I have NOT seen those two be used in basically ANY fics I've read. I've scarcely used them in mine! In fact, I PURPOSEFULLY got rid of them early on in Gladiator because I didn't want them to sabotage and get in the way of Azula's progress as a character and I believed they'd do exactly that. They were an obstacle rather than anything useful, so I did away with them and then realized they could still occasionally serve some purpose in certain situations: I even had Azula visit them once and they were actually helpful! Fancy that! But... that's it. That's as far as I could go with them. I can't do MORE with those two because they're not characters one particularly feels compelled to work with.

And from what I've seen? That's the case for everyone.

So, I ask again:

WHY ARE THEY THERE?

WHAT IS THEIR ROLE?

WHAT IS THE POINT OF AZULA HAVING NON-BENDING TEACHERS?

Let's go further and further into logical thinking here, shall we?

Azula is a child. Fourteen years of age at the time she's introduced in the OG show.

Azula has no power over many things around her, particularly, her upbringing. That's in the hands of the adults around her. Her mother, up until she vanished, had some hand in it, then, it all falls to Ozai.

Ozai has been Azula's sole parental figure since Ursa left.

Ozai is the one who would reasonably call the shots regarding Azula's education, as all parents are wont to do... ESPECIALLY when he's a king with absolute power over his children.

... so, Lo and Li? Ozai either gave them the position as Azula's teachers personally, or someone else (Ursa) did, and Ozai either didn't WANT to remove them from the role (cue "Ozai being sentimental over Ursa" theories), or Ozai didn't give a flying fuck about who was training his daughter (cue "Ozai is an abusive dick without a heart or a brain" theories).

Anyone, of course, would likely interject here to say surely Ozai ALSO trained Azula himself because that's what he'd do with his favorite kid, right? See. I don't even disagree with that notion.

BUT IT'S A HEADCANON.

We have zero evidence that Ozai trained her! None! I totally will write that into Azula's backstory in many of my stories, but there's NOTHING in canon to suggest this actually happened and that Ozai was genuinely, actively, frequently involved in her progress as a firebender. Assuming he HAD to be is, still, a headcanon. You can't say that with any more certainty than mine when I say I believe Azula loves spicy foods. Does it seem to be something that would fit with her character? I think so! But if eventually canon goes "AZULA CAN'T STAND SPICY FOODS LOL JOKE'S ON YOU!" I... can't even say a thing about it. People's food tastes aren't reflective of their personalities. They really could do whatever they want in that respect. And that's the case for ANYTHING that isn't part of the show's storytelling or the character backgrounds or any texts we consider canon!

POINT BEING: Ozai, regardless of what you want to headcanon, had Lo and Li as Azula's teachers. HIS FAVORITE CHILD... and her only official instructors are two non-benders. Yang added Kunyo as an old instructor of Azula's when she was young, sure! But Kunyo was sooooo qualified that baby Azula was already kicking his ass. So, for that matter? He doesn't really seem to have been a cornerstone of her firebending development and the only other known teachers for Azula are Lo and Li.

For the last time: Azula's teachers are NON-BENDERS. AS CHOSEN, SANCTIONED, APPROVED AND ACCEPTED BY OZAI.

And with those two remarking on absolutely STUPID stuff like "one hair out of place"? Azula still became the incredible firebender she was.

Cue, now, the irony where Zuko was stuck in the basics 3 years after setting out of the Fire Nation... WITH IROH ACTIVELY SERVING AS HIS MENTOR.

You're not gonna tell me that Lo and Li would EVER be better instructors than Iroh, or are you? Because that makes no sense. Full-stop. Iroh is supposed to be the most profound and complete firebender thorughout the show because he's spiritually enlightened even though I admit I think that's bullshit and he doesn't just teach Zuko how to set things on fire, he actually makes him learn theory and spirituality and his teachings are more profound than just "ONE HAIR OUT OF PLACE".

So.

Banished as he is, disgraced and seen as trash by Ozai, Zuko STILL has a better teacher than Azula does.

... Is this LOGICAL? Is this NORMAL? Does this make SENSE?

If you think Ozai's favoritism of Azula takes the shape of "I'll give you every little thing you ask for, sweetheart, I love you very much, here, have ten million doll houses so you can set them on fire, and all the ponies you ask for and on your next birthday I'll buy you a baby dragon and you'll get your own region of the Fire Nation to govern and a fancy title..."?

Then Lo and Li, unfortunately, are right here to be a HUGE contradiction with your interpretation of Ozai and Azula's relationship.

Azula should have THE BEST teachers. Azula does not. Azula doesn't even LIKE them. Azula is openly shown to dislike them! To be annoyed around them, ANGRY when they're teaching her, she feels they're here to keep tabs on her for her father! In a sense, they're Ozai's SPIES on her! :')

Hence? Ozai's favoritism of Azula MIGHT not be what everyone keeps pretending it is. Maybe Ozai didn't do everything to make Azula get things EASILY... and to be fair? That's not what Zuko said anyway. People interpreted it that way... but that's not REALLY what he says:

"Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. "

Every line in this statement is absolutely questionable and all of it sounds like buuuuullshit to me. This is ZUKO'S perspective. And sorry not sorry, but it's tell-don't-show. People swear by his opinion of Azula and pretend he's absolutely objective about it. He's not.

But "Everything always came easy to her," does not mean "EVERYTHING WAS ALWAYS HANDED OVER TO HER ON A SILVER PLATTER." And yet this is what the fandom has constantly interpreted it as.

Azula might just be a prodigy. Maybe she started out ten steps ahead of her brother: this does not mean she needs no guidance, no training, no help. She's seen training herself over perfectionism in her very second scene of Book 2. And the guidance she gets in order to achieve perfection is actually, objectively, stupid.

This is what Ozai chose for her. This is an OBSTACLE for her growth, just as much as Lo and Li were obstacles for me when I was starting with Gladiator! Azula doesn't have it EASY: she just works herself so damn hard that even shit that should HINDER her does NOT do that. And even when her brother objectively has spent THREE YEARS with an advantage in the shape of being trained by one of the VERY BEST firebenders out there? Azula is still beating Zuko at it. With two non-benders as her teachers.

Where am I going with all this?

To the fact that Lo and Li are overlooked in just about every instance of the fandom.

To the fact that nobody includes them, and their influence on Azula, in their analyses of who Azula is.

I've seen a shitstorm rising over the Netflix characterization of Azula: SHE'S TOO ANGRY, they say. Non-stop. She's sooooo hysterical, all the time! She's just pissed perpetually!

Well. I haven't finished the show yet. But the scenes I've seen Azula in so far? They don't fit the fandom's view of Azula because...

... they're not taking Lo and Li into account.

As usual.

:')

Azula's reactions around Lo and Li being frustration, anger, irritation EVEN in scenes like The Beach, where Azula was FINE until she sees them? That shit is storytelling that went over sooooooo many heads, EVEN MINE! When I saw people going on about how canon Azula is... not insecure? Not angry? Has no frustrations and was only ever smirking 24/7? I... didn't feel that was right. I knew it wasn't right. And when I thought about it hard enough? I realized that one reason why this interpretation of Azula is IMMEDIATELY dismissable is because of Lo and Li: those two constantly made Azula angry. Even if that wasn't their intent, it's nonetheless the effect they'd have on her. And Azula didn't like having them around. She CLEARLY didn't appreciate them the way Zuko does Iroh, for instance! And this could be taken as a flaw on Azula's part... if we EVER saw evidence that these two ladies actually love Azula as a grandchild, or so. If we had any evidence that they actually have cared for her in ways nobody else ever did. If maybe the ones Zuko talks about, upon saying "EVERYONE LOVES AZULA" were these two! And maybe he was jealous of them! Maybe he wanted two old ladies to watch his every move and tell him his every flaw!

... Clearly I'm joking about that last thing, but anyway...

There's nothing to tell us Lo and Li were anything but Ozai's assigned watchdogs to keep control and tabs over Azula. That Azula's immediate reaction upon hearing that someone cares about her is "Oh fuck off, my dad sent you here because he doesn't trust me!" is... telling. It's not just paranoia speaking, even if it sure can be read that way! It's actually Azula's perception of those two, which is 100% supported by what we saw of the twins throughout the show, WHENEVER we did see them: their roles in Azula's life are indeed to keep tabs on her, to keep her under control, to pressure her into perfection, AS OZAI'S AGENTS! Seen this way, it MAKES SENSE for Azula to disregard their concern and immediately assume it's FAKE. She isn't even shown to doubt it, never questions that MAYBE they did care about her! She assumes they don't...

... And considering that, as far as I know, the official concept is that they BOTH LEFT when Azula banished one of them only? That they didn't contest her command, staying to look after her even if she only wanted one? I mean, clearly Azula can't tell them apart, so they could've taken turns: one watches over Azula for 12 hours and the other for the next 12 hours, I don't goddamn know! But they didn't do that. They LEFT. And if they left? It means they don't care remotely as much as they say they do. Not to the point where they'd challenge Azula's orders and help her when they KNOW she's not okay.

And all of this further supports my point.

When we see Azula in the liveaction being angry, bitter, irritable at Ozai's choices?

I see a reflection of the same dynamics that the OG too subtly weaved into Azula's relationship with Lo and Li. I see Azula reacting against Ozai's control over her because she feels it's DISTRUST. She feels it means her father STILL needs to be convinced that she's competent, powerful, ready to do his bidding. It isn't a case where Azula's irritation comes from wanting to rebel against her father... it's Azula wanting her father to UNDERSTAND that she's 100% his supporter and will put everything on the line to serve him and the Fire Nation.

And it's very damn easy to read that exact same thing into Azula's dynamics with Lo and Li as it is to see it EXPLICITLY STATED in the liveaction.

My point?

What the liveaction did is not nearly as much of a distant characterization choice as people think it is.

Ozai is Azula's Achilles' Heel. Everything she became, everything she grew up to be, was for his sake. He molded her to become those things and simply didn't give a shit about raising a daughter, he treated her as a weapon, and absolutely pitted his children against each other, just as much as OTHER adults in their lives did. But the impact of Ozai on Azula in the OG is easy to ignore. Why? Because we SELDOM see them interacting. Because we don't get that side of Azula's character fully explored. Because they didn't want to explore Ozai's character either! They were as cheap as they could be with all these aspects and so, only the people who really got into analyzing things on a deeper level would be able to say, without a doubt, that Ozai abused Azula emotionally with all the expectations and demands he put on his own child. Through the golden child-scapegoat dynamic that people have been bringing up non-stop in the past years.

So, proving herself to her father is what Azula wants to do, more than anything. Proving worthy of his favor, of his approval, is the closest thing she can get to feeling loved. Which is depressing as fuck. Azula gets zero affection: it's not even conditional affection, there's NOTHING for her besides approving words if she gets anything right. And this show's work with Azula's character? It was meant to make these things less invisible to all the fans who like to pretend none of it exists. And yes, I've seen them, crawling all over Twitter shitting themselves in fits of rage because how dare that show pretend Azula EVER had a bad time in her perfect flawless life!!

Well, the irony is that the OG gives you a smidge of evidence -- and yet that's enough -- to show that Ozai was doing very similar things to Azula in ATLA, and her reactions to it?

Huh. No smirks for Lo and Li.

No smirks for the symbols of Ozai's control over her life.

It's almost like the confidence, the smirks, the apparent ease with which she handles everything? Is a front that crumbles easily whenever it concerns the ONE PERSON with power over her life.

I don't believe, worth noting, that Azula's power comes from rage. I've seen people say that in fandom in the past and I find it a completely absurd take when Iroh himself spells out that her bending is about control, about precision, and it's Azula's FURY that makes her a sloppy mess in the finale. It's even INTENTIONAL that when she shoots lightning a second time, in her second establishing scene, THAT SAME HAIR FALLS OUT OF PLACE. She's still angry. She didn't get it "right" this time either. She's imperfect and she's trying NOT to be, but she cannot succeed. And upon bending lightning with emotions (rage/frustration)? That hair falls YET AGAIN out of place. Proof that she's not going to achieve the perfection she's being FORCED (indeed, by her father and the people who are here to represent him, Lo and Li) to strive for.

The liveaction had Ozai pushing Azula for a perfection she couldn't attain either. She's perfectly content in her cruelty at Ozai's side, right until she hears the Avatar was found and that Zuko has a shot at taking away the privileges she's been basking in so far. That she WASN'T nervous about this in canon is pretty damn obvious: OZAI SENT HER TO HUNT ZUKO DOWN FOR BEING A FAILURE. We never saw her reaction to learning that the Avatar was out and about. We have noooo idea what was canonically going on with her back then. The first time we see her besides the flashback is Azula receiving a mission that tells her she's STILL #1 and Zuko is no threat to her because Ozai thinks he's a failure. Thus? She had nothing to fear. Here? Ozai is actively using Zuko as bait to pressure Azula further. And if you're so confident in Ozai's good parenting skills as to believe he somehow WOULDN'T do that? Sounds like you don't understand the very basic and simplistic Fire Lord Ozai from ATLA, and that's not something to be proud of. So probably stop screaming your bad takes at the top of your lungs, because being incapable of understanding Ozai in canon is not a badge of pride, just saying...

FINAL POINT...

This post is not written expressly in the defense of the liveaction and its characterization of Azula. To this point, what I've seen of it doesn't feel WRONG or OFF unless you're the kind of person who thinks Azula is only capable of smirking and if she stops doing that she stops existing or something. Only people who cannot understand the depth, nuance, subtleties in Azula's story would ever be claiming that Azula's relationship with Ozai COUDLN'T be like this, or that Azula couldn't possibly be frustrated with her father or his choices when it's soooo clear what Ozai is going for, and why it's working. But in order to read Azula as a character capable of this range of emotion, frustration and ambition, all at once? You have to be able to treat this character, be it in the liveaction or the OG show, as a human being.

And that's what most the people criticizing this specific change are determined not to do. It's what makes them uncomfy. It's what rustles their jimmies.

Yes. I'm saying it in this very demeaning way because I actually find it quite ridiculous to be this insecure over the portrayal of a fictional 14yo in two TV shows. Whether the liveaction sticks the landing or fails catastrophically, I do not know... but I do know that if it's forcing a bunch of people to rethink Azula's character, and making them panic at the idea that she could EVER have human emotions, even if they're AWFUL human emotions?

Then I'm afraid you're only convincing me that, as bad as that show could ever get? It's getting SOMETHING right. I do love to see misinterpretations of Azula getting slammed in the face by the reality that all those beliefs, headcanons and takes in bad faith are actively, categorically untrue: none of which makes Azula a fundamentally good person, worth noting! But it makes it very clear that reading her as a one-dimensional basic villain, which is what the anti-Azula-redemption crowd actively does, is literally only possible if you overlook, ignore and fail to understand her character and her complexities, be it in the liveaction or in the original show.

There. I said my piece.

Another post, regarding the rest of the liveaction, is bound to come later. I'd say stay tuned but it might take me a while to write it at all. So... wait around and maybe you'll see it someday!

[izels-writing]

s. black — august

Tagged; @urbansaint

Pairing: sirius black x fem!slytherin!french!reader

Summary: you and sirius spent most of august together.

Warnings: slightly ooc sirius, a little drama but they’re teens so😝, harassment (brief), slight enemies to lovers if u squint real hard, a bit rushed i apologize, brief mention of france so i apologize i forgot that was part of the request, also i didn’t put regulus and sirius making up in this bc it was already long asf my bad

you hated sirius black. with a passion. not for any unknown reason—no, you had every right to hate him. even his friends knew it. and you were nothing if not stubborn. you'd never admit someone could get under you skin, but he absolutely could.

to understand why you hated sirius, first you had to understand what lead to this in the first place—starting at the beginning.

after a two-week vacation in your parents home town, bordeaux, france, you were very happy to be home. it wasn't that you hated your extended family, but you certainly enjoyed the comfort of your own bed as opposed to the old mattress that your older cousin no longer used.

living beside the potters was fun, if you could believe. you and your parents got along amazingly with the potters, despite you and james' teasing rivalry. you both never meant anything by it, but it was a fun inside joke—even if you hardly acknowledged each other at school.

placing your book down, you glanced up through your bedroom window, peering inside james' bedroom curiously. adding to the rivalry, your bedrooms faced each other—which was funnier than you both cared to admit.

you spotted a tall, though shorter than james, lean boy with handsome features and beautiful black hair. immediately, when he turned around, you recognized it to be sirius black—james' best friend. you knew seldom of sirius' home situation, but knew enough to know that the potters were his safe haven.

unfortunately, a week into the summer, before you left for france—sirius showed up to you and james' movie night, bleeding and crying hysterically from whatever had happened at his home. james helped him get changed while you made them tea and you quickly left, knowing it was not your place to stay. since then, sirius had spoken to you and apologized for the intrusion—but you knew he had nothing to be sorry for. it wasn't his fault.

since you had gotten home, you had gotten yourselves into a bit of a tedious situation.

one night, before the beginning of august, he had trouble sleeping and he had signaled to you through your bedroom window (given he knew what a night owl you were) that he was bored. though you felt you shouldn't have, given your parents no boys rule, you invited him over through your window. he had stayed up with you for a few hours, you two talking about anything and everything that came to mind.

and then, it became a nightly occurrence. you both thought james had no idea, given his habit of sleeping at 9:30 pm sharp, and if he did, he never made it obvious. every night, at 11 pm, he'd climb out of james' window and into yours.

and eventually, given the intimacy of those shared late nights, you grew an attraction to one another. one that did not go left unsaid.

you pulled away from your kiss, pushing sirius' hair out of his face. he was under you, with you straddling his torso as he lied on your bed. his lips were a red shade, from the bruising kissing you two had been engaged in. he tried to pull you in again with a smirk, but you chuckled and pulled away again. you stared into his eyes.

"we're going back to school soon, you know that right?" you asked. he groaned.

"don't remind me," he whined. he pulled you in for another kiss, pulling your hips down onto his. you hummed happily into the kiss but pulled back again.

"so, i know it may be too early to decide this, but we've got to figure out how to explain it you know?" you replied. his side wasn't so much a problem, but you were already a pariah in the slytherin house—given your indifference to pureblood status—you didn't exactly want to seem like the weird girl who sneaks around with a gryffindor.

sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "what're you talking about?"

he sat up as you situated yourself on his lap. he gave you a confused look and you shyly explained, "well, people are gonna ask questions—i feel like we should be on the same page about this, whatever this is,"

"yeah, well it's simple, no one will know," sirius shrugged. he tried to lean into to kiss you again, but you pulled away, sliding off of his lap.

"what do you mean no one will know?" you questioned, your blood running cold as he looked at you.

"i mean we'll keep it a secret, no one should know and frankly i don't want to tell anyone," he said casually.

you blinked at him. "and why not?"

he chuckled, trying to ease the growing tension. "y/n, you and i can't be seen together, you and i both know that..."

"what're you on about?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly at the boy.

"well, you know you're a...slytherin, you know? i can't be seen with you, your house is what i've been trying to escape my whole life..." he said dumbfounded.

you felt your heart drop as you chuckled humorlessly, you stood up and paced the room, "i don't believe this..."

frankly, hearing this made you wish you had never met him into your room in the first place.

"what? y/n, come on, you can't be that way... you know what my families like, and they're all slytherins, what'll people say when they see me with you? after running away? it's laughable!"

your blood boiled. "how can you sit there and say that? so what, i'm shameful to be with? not all slytherins are the same, just because your family is from that house and they're dickwads—it doesn't mean the same for the rest of us!" you said angrily.

"i can't believe you're overreacting about this! it's just not the right time! i ran away from my family, to be with a real loving family, to what? be associated with another slytherin? i've worked so hard to be separated from that house, from that family, i'm sorry but i won't go back—not for anyone. you can't sit here and tell me that everyone from that house isn't exactly like my family!" sirius replied angrily. he stood from your bed as he yelled and you felt your heart twist, staring up at him with fury.

"you know, you sit here and talk about how terrible your family is and how much you hate them and never want to be like them," you spat. "but you are exactly like them!"

"you judge people, you act like you're better than everyone because of who you are or what house your from, and you are a coward and cruel!" you spat angrily, lip quivering. "get out!"

sirius' expression changed. he was angry. he was hurt. more importantly, he felt like you had just plunged a deep knife into his heart and twisted. but most of all, he looked numb.

"you know what? i will leave, i may be a coward, but i would've never said to you what you just said to me," he spat. he climbed out of the window, leaving quickly and quickly going into his own home.

you watched angrily as he did, unfortunately still caring that he made it inside safely, and closed your window and curtain.

you couldn't believe he had made you feel so stupid...

———

months had passed since you and sirius' huge fight. since then, you'd hardly spoken to each other—and if you did, it wasn't very kind exchanges. your interactions were filled with glares and sarcasm and irritability with each other—and james was left more than confused how something so gentle could change into something so angry overnight.

nonetheless, you did your best to avoid each other at school. did you miss your late night talks with him? your late night eating sessions? most of all, your late night arts and crafts? of course, but he had shown you who he really was. you didn't need to miss someone like that. ( and honestly, it had become really clear how boring you two were together—but those nights were the funnest nights of your life. )

"hey, y/n," pandora burke sighed, throwing herself in the seat in front of you in the great hall. you looked up at your friend and smiled slightly, "hey, dora," you replied.

soon enough, evan rosier joined you both—quickly accompanied by regulus black. you were close with pandora for a long time, but not so much regulus and evan until this year. pandora, who was the only one to know about your fling, attributed the newfound friendship with the younger black brother as a subtle way to get back at sirius—whether it was or not, you certainly enjoyed regulus' company since he matured as a person—and you had to admit, the angry and infuriated look on sirius' face when you laughed with his brother was priceless.

you glanced up from your cereal as evan talked happily about the new spell he had learned to mess with gryffindors, finding grey eyes looming over you as you ate. you flared at sirius, finding he more than returned the favor.

"hello? y/n? why aren't you listening to me? can you stop eye-fucking regulus' brother for one second and listen to me?" evan said loudly, turning a few heads. thankfully, plenty were afraid of regulus that when he glared at them to mind their business, they did just that.

"i am not," you seethed.

"you kind of are," pandora added sheepishly.

"leave her alone," regulus sighed. "he was staring at her,"

"that fucking asswipe, i don't understand what's so interesting about me eating my cereal?" you scoffed, turning to regulus dumbfounded.

regulus shrugged. "maybe he thinks you're pretty,"

"probably," pandora smirked, eyeing you subtly.

"i know i'm pretty, i don't need his validation," you spat—glaring at the boy who had promptly turned to join in with lupin and pettigrews conversation.

you turned to regulus and smiled nonetheless, "but thanks, reg," you grinned, hitting his side playfully.

"whatever, we should go...we have divination soon," regulus muttered.

"you don't even like that class," evan said.

"yeah, but i do, and reggie is my mini me, let's get on with it, reg," you grinned, pulling regulus up with you. bidding a goodbye to your friends, you and regulus left the great hall arm-in-arm—unbeknownst to both of you, a pair of grey eyes watched you both angrily as you left.

——

potions was a hard enough class as it was, given your head of house taught it and expected perfection from his students. it was even harder when slughorn had no sense of social cues and decided to pair you and sirius up today to complete a potion.

frankly, you couldn't put all the blame on slughorn. if sirius and james weren't acting like such idiots, then you and pandora wouldn't have gotten separated to be paired with them.

"can you at least pretend like you're interested?" you hissed at the boy who had put his hair up in a makeshift bun and kicked his feet up on the table. you swatted his feet to the ground, glaring angrily at him.

"why should i? you're just gonna do what you when you want to anyway," sirius spat back.

you rolled your eyes. you nodded at the wooden spoon, "hand me that, you twat," you sneered. with ab annoyed huff, sirius grabbed the spoon and placed it softly in your hand. his fingertips brushed against your palm and for a second, it felt like that comforting feeling of you two back in your room—hands intertwined under covers and lips locked passionately.

he pulled his hand away promptly as you stared at the cauldron, trying to snap your common sense back into place. you acted unbothered by the hand touch and resumed your potion making, a subtle scowl printed on your lips.

you turned to sirius, glancing down at your textbook before looking at him. "bring me the rat's heart," you said sternly. with an exaggerated, annoyed sigh—sirius stood quickly and made his way over, picking up a small jar of the rats heart and ambling over, placing it gingerly in your hand.

"anything else, your highness?" he asked sarcastically.

you glared at him. "no, that'll be all, thank you," you spat back.

——

after class, you went to the library to try and get homework done. as much as you loved pandora, you were easily distracted by her and you would really like to turn your stuff in on time.

unfortunately for you, goyle had other plans. he was some persistent 5th year who had a thing for you, which would be fine, if he wasn't a downright creep about it. you didn't even know the boys first name, that's how irritating he was to you.

"come on, i'll bet I'll give you the best night of your life," goyle whispered to you, trying his hardest to seduce you it seemed. you rolled your eyes.

"leave me alone, i don't want any nights with you," you sneered, shoving a book into its shelf and attempting to walk off.

nonetheless, the boy persisted. "you're playing hard to get," he chuckled.

"or maybe you're not worth my time," you scoffed.

his face twisted angrily as he tripped to grip your hip. "don't talk to me like that," he said angrily.

"get your hands off of me!" you spat, throwing his hand off.

"i ought to—" goyle began.

"get the bloody hell off of her," sirius spat, shoving goyle away from you. "when a girl tells you no, she means no,"

"whatever, you're a slag anyway," goyle spat at you before walking off. sirius almost went after him, but you grabbed his arm as you watch goyle leave.

"don't worry about it, thanks," you said nonchalantly.

he nodded at you, "any time, n/n,"

both of your eyes widened, as you both remembered the exact times he'd call you that nickname. you cleared your throat and walked off, leaving him standing there blankly before he eventually walked off.

you turned the corner, bringing your back to the shelf, and took a deep breath. why did he have to keep reminding you?

——

parties were debatable to you. a part of you liked the music and the dancing, and most certainly the drinking. another part of you hated to be around that many people at one time. however, you'd do it for james.

gryffindor had just won their game against ravenclaw, and james begged you to come to the party. it was rare you two actually spoke to you at school, but when you did talk—it was usually to ask for each others support.

you entered the gryffindor common room, your little black dress wrapped around your body in all the right places and your heels heightened you just enough that it made your legs look longer. you pulled off your cardigan, draping it over the couch that sat near the fireplace.

you quickly joined your friends marlene and dorcas on the dance floor—you, james, and marlene had grown up together as neighbors. so though you weren't as close anymore, you still considered each other friends.

"hey babe," marlene grinned, running over to hug you. dorcas smiled and did the same, greeting you quietly.

"hey marls, where's james?" you asked, looking around for your tall, messy-haired friend.

"uh...oh! doing shots over there with sirius, remus, and peter!" she replied, pointing over to the four boys. you smiled and the three of you made your way over.

"congrats james!" you and marlene exclaimed, running up to hug him. he smiled and kissed both of your heads.

"guys, these are my sisters! i love them so much!" he slurred, pulling you and marlene close. the other boys and dorcas laughed, while you and marlene chuckled. thankfully, james had showered before the party.

the rest of them quickly ran off to the dance floor, leaving you and sirius standing there watching them. you poured yourself a cup of beer, taking a small sip.

"you look great, n/n," sirius smiled. his cheeks were a bit flushed, but above all else, he looked sober.

"how drunk are you right now?" you asked, surveying him closely.

"never mind," he said promptly before attempting to walk off. you grabbed his forearm swiftly and smiled slightly.

"thanks," you said simply. he grinned at you, before walking off into the dance floor. he was most definitely drunk.

as the party progressed, you managed to be the only one to stay sober. every one of your friends was hammered, leaving you to babysit the group. thankfully, they weren't blackout.

"alright, here you both go," you grunted as you set peter down in his bed and remus on the one beside it. truthfully, you didn't know which was who's bed, but you knew if you didn't get them to sleep now—it wouldn't end well.

they muttered a thanks to you before the snores quickly began. you laughed it off, before walking over to james where he lied on what you presumed was his bed. he was sound asleep thankfully, so you swiftly removed his glasses and placed it on his dresser.

marlene and dorcas had already been put to bed, with the help of lily, who had bid you a quick good night as she went to babysit the two of them.

with a sigh, you went back downstairs to your last caretakee of the night. sirius, though you disliked him, couldn't be the only one you didn't put to bed. you sighed and crouched in front of him, being sure to cover your knees with your dress.

"sirius, it's time to go to bed," you said.

"no, i want to party!" he exclaimed through his closed eyes, pumping his fist in the air.

"yeah, there's a party in your bed, come on," you tried. then you scrunched your nose, "that sounded so wrong,"

he giggled. "you're funny,"

"it's one of my many talents," you replied. then, you stood and offered him a hand. he sighed and took it, standing up and stumbling slightly.

you allowed him to support his weight on you, despite the height difference, and you both stumbled over to the stairs. you took a few steps before he groaned.

"stop, stop, i'm going to throw up," he groaned. you quickly let him sit down, sitting beside him promptly. you waited patiently as he took a few deep breaths.

you both sat there in silence. you used to talk all the time, but now this is what your interactions consisted of. pure silence. it was a miracle he was drunk now, at least that would explain it this time.

he looked at you. "you know, you do look pretty today, beautiful even,"

"you're drunk," you rolled your eyes. "you wouldn't be saying it otherwise," you said—turning to look at him as well.

"i think it all the time, did you know that, miss know-it-all?," he chuckled. "you're captivating,"

you rolled your eyes. "alright, charmer, are you actually nauseous or did you just want to talk my ear off all night?"

"i dunno, i used to do it all the time, remember? i miss it..." he mumbled.

"yeah, well, that's not exactly on me," you muttered, loud enough so he could hear it.

sirius took a deep breath, looking at you with sorrow-filled eyes. "it was the biggest mistake i've ever made, y/n,"

you looked at him softly.

"i mean, you understood me. you didn't care what baggage i had. sleeping beside you that summer was the first time i'd gotten real sleep in a long time," he admitted. "you made me feel safe... the way you'd laugh, the way you'd touch me, all of it,"

he's drunk. he's drunk. he's drunk. he's drunk. you repeated to yourself over and over. despite the feeling of your chest being ripped apart, you knew he couldn't actually mean it. yes, you loved him—more than you ever wanted to admit. but he didn't feel the same, he had showed you that much.

"let's get you to bed," you whispered. comfortingly, you grabbed his forearm and helped him up.

he followed you up the stairs, before quickly entering his dorm with him. you laid him gently on his bed, sliding his shoes off. he looked relieved that you were there, despite everything in your body telling you to just leave. he had hurt you before, he was cruel—so why were you still helping him?

you noticed him close his eyes and you turned to leave, but he sat up and grabbed your hand. you turned to him.

"i still get nightmares, especially after we broke up," he admitted. you knew about these. they were scary and heart wrenching to watch him experience. you couldn't imagine actually having them.

"will you stay until i fall asleep?" he whispered softly.

every logical part of you was screaming no. telling you to leave and not look back. but the part of you that cared—that loved him, was begging you to stay.

and unfortunately, that part that was begging won.

"yeah, sure," you whispered. you sat beside him on his bed. you folded your legs to the side and held his hand tightly as he closed his eyes.

within minutes he was asleep.

you admired him quietly as he slept. his chest rising and falling, his perfect features relaxed in a perfect way. a part of you could stay like this, watching him, forever.

but then another part of you remembered what he said—and you knew he'd never feel for you what you felt for him.

with a frown, you slowly let go of his hand and stood up—making your way quickly out of his dorm. silently, you made your way back to the slytherin dungeons, trying to ignore your heartbreak.

——

a week had passed since your incident with sirius. you had hardly spoken to him and he agreed with you it seemed—because he hasn't talked to you much either. sure, there was a snarky comment here and there, but other than that, you two managed to stay your separate ways.

you chuckled quietly, shaking your head as evan and regulus argued playfully. pandora sat beside you, rolling her eyes at the two.

lunch was soon ending, leaving you and evan to have to separate from pandora and regulus soon. you two shared a herbology class, despite him being a year younger than you. he was rather smart, doubling up in certain classes to finish them easier.

"bye, you guys," you chuckled, as you and evan walked side-by-side toward the greenhouses. you quickly pulled your emerald green tie out of your bag, tying it around you neck swiftly.

you and evan linked arms after, continuing your way to class. if it was one thing you two had, it was the ability to talk about anything and everything that had little to no importance.

"yeah, and then i told my dad—" evan began.

"y/n!" a familiar, now sober voice called out. sirius quickly walked over, as you and evan stopped and turned around. evan gave you an alarmed look but you looked at sirius.

"sirius?" you questioned as he finally caught up to the two of you.

"can i talk to you?" he mumbled.

"about?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"it's important," he assured. "please,"

you rolled your eyes. "fine, what is it?"

he looked over at evan sternly. "leave?"

you stepped in front of evan protectively. he and regulus really did feel like younger brothers to you, now that you thought about it. "don't talk to him that way," you interjected—narrowing your eyes at sirius.

"i'm fine, evan, i'll catch up to you," you said, glancing at evan before looking at sirius pointedly. evan grinned.

"i listen to her because i want to, not because of you," he told sirius pointedly. sirius rolled his eyes as evan laughed and walked off.

you looked at sirius with your arms crossed. "well?"

sirius stood in front of you awkwardly, finding it seemingly difficult to look you in the eyes. "uh, i remembered today what i did,"

you stared at him, urging him to continue. you had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

"that night at the gryffindor victory party," he added, finally mustering the courage to look you in the eye.

you shifted uncomfortably. "look, we don't have to talk about it—"

he nodded, "yes we do,"

"no, we really don't—"

"well i want to," he said sternly.

"i wasn't lying that day, yes i was drunk, but i meant it, every word of it. the way you make me feel, how safe you feel, everything..." sirius said. "pushing you away was the biggest mistake of my life, i should've never been such a coward,"

"except you didn't just push me away, you said cruel things," you replied. "sirius, you don't get to just drop that bomb on my life after destroying my feelings and expect immediate forgiveness! what you said hurt, it stung even!"

"you made me feel ashamed!" you added, hurt lacing your tone. "do you think i dealt with that easily? i fancied you, and you made me feel like i wasn't worthy of being near you. do you know how that feels?"

sirius pushed your strands of hair behind your ears, cupping your face. "and believe me, i will spend my entire life earning your forgiveness. you were never the embarrassment, i was. i'm so sorry, y/n,"

suddenly, like something had possessed you, you kissed him swiftly. you didn't know you could miss someone's touch so much.

he quickly kissed back. you pulled away.

"you still have to earn that forgiveness," you breathed out, "but this...is a good start,"

he grinned. "believe me, i will work my entire life if i have to," he chuckled, pulling you in for a tight, bone-crushing hug. one that you had missed for months now.

"believe me, i won't make it easy," you smirked.

bonus;

"do you have one in green?" you asked your husbands coworker. you were at a work party and they was handing out party bags, which everyone decided to match to their house while attending hogwarts.

your husbands coworker snorted. "what're you? a slytherin?"

you blinked at him, crossing your arms. "as a matter of fact, i am, problem?"

sirius slid his arm around your waist, kissing your head. "no problem, right alexander? my wife's a proud slytherin, no big deal," he shrugged.

alexander cleared his throat and his cheeks tinted pink. "no, of course not. here's a green one," he mumbled. you took it and he walked off, clearly embarrassed.

you turned to sirius with a smile, leaning in close. "thank you for defending my honor," you chuckled.

"well, anything for my wife," he laughed, kissing you softly.