#i had more to say but i kind of forgot it

[khorneschosen]

Yeah dude most people are cunts about politics. Either you haven't been at this long or you are being purposely dense.

Most people don't even give you the benefit of treating others in good faith after you give them good faith. Frankly I don't have to treat you in good faith at all. And demanding it, is stretching that benevolence.

I gave the right stats, wrong name. I get my latin mixed up from time to time.

Here's the pdf

Enjoy not reading it in any great detail. Also another fun fact, the divide between women and men is the methods of murder used. Men are messy, women however prefer poison, and violence by proxy.

Interestingly, when a woman uses violence by proxy, we don't consider it statistically because technically she didn't kill her husband.

Then there is the sentencing and conviction gap between men and women as shown in the first statistics.

And then on top of that you have the sheer fact that if a woman wants to leave a man destitute, without home, car, money, children and everything else, all she has to do is divorce him and the courts will do that work for her. In short, right now a woman doesn't have to kill a man to take everything from him. Just marry him. Or just live with him for a certain amount of time.

Furthermore, you'll notice an interesting historical trend. When women were killing their husbands in greater numbers was when they had the least amount of protections from abusers and ability to safely leave. Now the situation is reversed where a man due to the Duluth model of domestic violence, a man is left in the spot where if he is abused he will be arrested. If he defends himself or his children he will be arrested, if he locks himself in a room he will be arrested. If his abuser hurts herself in abusing him, he will be arrested.

Don't like it? Start advocating for equal and fair courts that don't take account of gender or atleast stop advocating for the terrible policies you continue to do so.

So in closing why would you expect any other outcome? This btw is another case of pushing for a policy without concern for its outcomes.

Edit now that I have time to reply to you fully: I think I forgot to write a conclusion again so here it is.

The number of wives vs husbands doesn't actually deal with an issue of "validation of murder" as at no point will I say "murder is good" but that "your data is wrong" or that "pointing to the numbers of those murders don't actually address the point of which murder is validated."

To which I would also point out women have been shown statistically to more likely get away with their murder on a claim of self defense. Considering the conviction rate differences mentioned earlier, whether this claim was truthful or ad hoc after the act, remains a question, but does not change the overall fact that the system is more likely to convict a female murderer over a male one.

So your argument is untruthful, incorrectly applied, and wrong. Either way you look at it this was a bad move.

Also, an argument isn't valid or invalid by whether its made in good faith. What matters in debate is how convincing it is, in philosophy whether its true. Truth matters in our argument. Not whether I treat my opponent with respect he will not return in kind.

Good faith must be earned. Maybe you are a vaush fan, someone who treats everyone in the worst faith possible and then complains that they don't treat him in good faith, a good faith he has never close to earning.

Our system's issue isn't and hasn't been the for profit nature of it, but the government regulations. Because previously to the regulations it ran much more efficiently and effectively. But it was purposely mangled by people who vote like you. Because if you mangle a system to the point it doesn't function, then you can advocate for greater control and regulation. Succeed or fail you get what you want.

No its bait. It had nothing to do with the conversation. You could have picked self defense which has a better basis but you chose this.

Also whether you picked it knowingly you have more to say about feminism than about the healthcare debate. Whats more your arguments on healthcare are begging where as you speak authoritatively about feminism. Its clumsy and very transparent.

But I will play ball because Id rather deal with your strongholds and crush them rather lance some pointless boil.

Why destroy that which you don't hold strongly enough to defend?

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-metaphysics/

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-epistemology/

Feel free to not read it aswell but frankly see the work it's based on is in the form of kant's critique of pure reason. All post modern philosophy requires the irrational base kant provides for their theories. From modern Christianity, to socialism, to feminism. All of them cite his discrediting of reason in the formation of their philosophy.

Did you not know? Rationality is a tool of male oppression according to feminism.

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/227633936_Gendered_Rationality_A_Genealogical_Exploration_of_the_Philosophical_and_Sociological_Conceptions_of_Rationality_Masculinity_and_Organization

I would prefer primary citations but Im on mobile and the primary works are harder to find as I dont typically read them.

A discussion about the conflict in our ideas. Should we let our abstractions fight in an attempt to gain supremacy over each other while we are just indifferent observers? The standards of knowing whether you are right or wrong are deeply important. How do you know if you are wrong? I have my standard it's philosophical and its existence exists. Disprove that and everything else follows.

Can data be manipulated?

Also till this exact second I thought I was debating a rather effeminate man. Your race didn't come up in how you write.

And how many children are without a parent because of denied medical care, homelessness, police brutality, etc.

If you're going to use "but they have children", be consistent.

[reverd-ck]

sweet like candy! -megumi fushiguro x reader (fluff)

ever since you and megumi started dating, you give him a small piece of candy each day.

wc: 884

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small roll of ramune tablet candies, shoving it in Megumi’s hand before he could protest.

“I told you, I don’t want—”

“Take it!” 

Megumi sighs before unwrapping the roller, giving you a piece before putting one in his mouth, then wrapping it up again and putting it in his pocket.

You both walk in silence as you munch on the candies, the flavor popping into your mouth. 

“So…how was the mission?” he asks, wanting to hear more from you.

“Hmm... it was pretty much the usual, actually. Kugisaki held off on calling Ijichi because there was a mall nearby, and she just had to go check it out and dragged me along with her.” 

“Sounds typical for Kugisaki,” he replies. 

“I know, right? So of course I had to go along with her, but I didn’t have much money on me, so I just got the candy I gave you.” you say, continuing on with your story.

“You know, you could’ve asked me to give you some extra cash if you wanted to.” Megumi replies, digging back into his pocket for the candy because it was actually kind of good.

“I know that... It just makes me feel a little guilty, you know? Plus, isn’t it Gojo-sensei’s money?” 

Megumi shrugs, already popping another piece into his mouth. “I don’t really care.” 

“Mhm, sure. Can you give me another piece? Please?” you ask. He scoffs a little but gives you one more, walking along the path to your dorm while you continue recounting the events of your day, Megumi quietly listening and adding a few comments.

And so went every day just like that, perfect the way you wanted it. Holding pinkies while munching on his favorite treat that you got for him again, you talking about another topic while he just listens. 

Every day you would always get him a small sweet, like a lollipop or a mochi. He always refused at first but would end up enjoying it in the end anyway. It would be something a little different every day, maybe an old-time favorite or a sweet new discovery, but this trend continued on so long that Megumi couldn’t deny he formed a sweet tooth just because of you. He found himself craving something sweet every now and then, and it always brought a picture of you to his mind. It made him just a little happier at that moment, bringing a soft smile to his face whenever he missed you. 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨⋆｡‧˚ʚ📍ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

One morning, as you and Megumi headed towards class, you gave him his daily candy, a small cherry lollipop that you tried before and thought he needed to taste. You handed it to him as you both walked into class, but not noticing Gojo eyeing the lollipop, amazed that Megumi, the “I take my coffee black” kid was actually eating sweets! 

“Oh my days!” Gojo loudly exclaimed, startling you and Megumi, and Nobara who also just walked in, yawning. “You’re actually eating candy, Megumi! What’s up with that?! Are you sure you’re the real Megumi?!?”

Megumi groans loudly as you giggle softly into your hand, enjoying Gojo’s outburst.

“It’s not a big deal, will you shut it?!” Megumi retorts, clearly already annoyed with Gojo’s overly-dramaticised shocked face. “It’s just from Y/n, would you chill?” 

Gojo then looks at you and bursts into fake tears. “Oh y/n… you angel! How did you ever convince him to eat candy! He never eats my sweets!”

By now, you were already dying laughing at the scene, Nobara laughing along with you. You took a glance at your boyfriend and could practically see the vein on his forehead popping, only fueling your laughter even more.

Suddenly, a confused voice pops up from the laughter, the voice of Yuji, extremely confused about the room he just stumbled on. A Gojo who’s fake-crying, a seething Megumi, and Nobara and you doubled over laughing. “What, what’s happening?! Huh?” 

His confusion only adds more to the laugh you had right now, and Gojo ran up to Yuji telling him what he just saw.

“He... the boy that I raised for so long... he... he eats candy now! And it’s all because of y/n! I never knew she could soften him up like that. She has magic powers!” Gojo whines, confusing Itadori even more. 

As the laughter died down and the classes started, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about how right Gojo was. The man you sought out who was like a brick had finally molded into a soft clay for you to poke at. You sat there with a sappy smile on your face, chin resting on your hand as you only half-listened to Gojo. You were reminiscing on how sweet Megumi actually was, someone who melted at the tips of your fingers. Someone who you loved, and him who loved you back just the same. 

At the end of the day, you once again had your walk back to the dorms with Megumi, but this time, it was in comforting silence, not with the usual chatter. Still feeling the sappiness you had in class, it took Megumi by surprise when you pulled him aside and kissed him. 

He tasted sweet.

Sweet like candy.

a/n: first fic! excited to see how this turns out. how we feeling chat?

dividers by @.sister-lucifer and @.strangergraphics

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER FINAL PART | MV1

an: i bet you guys thought i forgot about this, i didn't. i just didn't want to say goodbye to them just yet because this is officially the end of our favourite couple. i'm defo going to miss them a lot and i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did.

wc: 3.6k

previous part

THE HOUSE WAS QUIETER than it used to be. It wasn’t silent—there was no such thing in a house with three kids, even if they were teenagers now—but the chaos had mellowed into a rhythm.

Theo, now eighteen, had shot up like a weed and was nearly as tall as Max. He spent most of his time tinkering in the garage with his dad, learning the ins and outs of engines and dreaming about rebuilding the motorbike Max had never fully let go of.

Mary-Ann, sixteen and the spitting image of her mother, had inherited her sass and determination. She was perched at the kitchen table, headphones on, doing homework—or pretending to, judging by the way she was doodling flowers in the margins of her notebook.

And Daniel, their youngest, now twelve, was sprawled on the living room floor with a pile of Legos, determined to construct the "coolest car ever" and occasionally asking Max for design advice. 

Max leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee. The years had been kind to him, though there was a little more grey in his beard and a few more lines around his eyes. He wore them well, a testament to a life lived fully.

His gaze drifted to his wife, who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes. She hummed under her breath, her hair tied up in a loose bun, a familiar warmth radiating from her. The sight of her, even after all these years, still made his heart skip a beat.

“Need a hand, angel?” he asked, setting his mug down.

She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “I’ve got it. You just make sure Daniel doesn’t eat the syrup straight out of the bottle again.”

Max chuckled, ruffling Daniel’s hair as he walked past. “You hear that, buddy? No syrup until the pancakes are on the plate.”

Daniel groaned but nodded, his focus back on his Legos.

Once the pancakes were ready, the family gathered around the table, the smell of maple syrup and butter filling the room. Theo and Mary-Ann bickered over who got the last pancake until their mum intervened, splitting it in half with a raised brow that said don’t push your luck.

Max leaned back in his chair, watching his family with quiet contentment. They weren’t perfect—there were still squabbles, slammed doors, and the occasional teenage attitude—but they were his. They were hers. And they’d built this life together, brick by brick, from nothing.

Later that day, Max and Theo were in the garage, going over the specs of a carburetor Theo had salvaged from the junkyard.

“Think we can make it work?” Theo asked, his voice filled with the kind of excitement only an eighteen year old with a dream to take over his dad’s garage could muster.

Max grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “We can make anything work if we put in the effort.”

Mary-Ann wandered in, rolling her eyes, hands glued to her phone - something Max realised she was doing more often. “Mum said you two need to stop talking about car parts long enough to eat lunch. Also, Daniel wants to know if he can use the drill.”

But Max chose peace and never mentioned it as he snorted “Absolutely not.”

Mary-Ann smirked. “I told him you’d say that.”

When dinner rolled around, Max watched as her phone lit up and she smiled. All of this had started innocently enough. Mary-Ann had come home from school, cheeks pink and a slight bounce in her step, and casually mentioned during dinner that a boy had asked her out on a date.

She might as well have set off a grenade.

Theo, who had been lazily poking at his mashed potatoes, froze mid-bite. His eyes snapped up to his sister with the kind of intensity usually reserved for critical engine failures. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel, sitting next to him, dropped his fork entirely. At twelve, he wasn’t entirely sure what “dating” entailed, but he knew enough to side with his older brother. “Nope. Not happening.”

Even Max, who had been chewing a piece of chicken, paused. He set down his knife and fork, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms. “Who’s this kid?”

Mary-Ann groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh, this is why I didn’t want to say anything!”

Her mum, sitting at the head of the table, was trying—and failing—not to laugh. She sipped her water to hide her grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let the poor girl live, you three.”

But the boys were relentless.

Theo, the self-appointed enforcer, turned to Mary-Ann with a raised brow. “What’s his name? Is he in your grade? What’s his deal?”

Daniel piped up, his brows furrowed in a stern expression that would have been intimidating if he weren’t still twelve. “Does he know we’ve got a garage full of tools? And Dad has a hammer?”

Max nodded sagely, playing along. “Big hammer.”

Mary-Ann threw up her hands. “You guys are ridiculous! It’s just one date!”

Theo leaned forward, fixing her with a deadpan stare. “And that’s how it starts. First it’s one date, and then he’s calling you all the time, and then—”

“—he’s asking you to marry him!” Daniel chimed in, clearly pleased with his contribution.

Max smirked, glancing at his wife. “We’re just looking out for her, angel. Can’t have some punk kid messing with our Mary-Ann.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “She’s sixteen, Max. Let her figure it out.”

Mary-Ann crossed her arms, glaring at her family. “You’re all the worst. Mum, do something!”

But her mum just shrugged, biting back another laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re on your own. This is way too entertaining.”

Mary-Ann groaned, pushing back from the table. “I can’t believe you guys! I’m going to my room.”

As she stomped off, Theo called after her. “You’re not leaving this house until we meet him!”

Daniel added, “And I’m bringing the hammer!”

Max, unable to resist, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “BIG hammer!”

Her mum finally burst out laughing, shaking her head as she looked at her husband and sons. “You three are unbelievable.”

Max grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? We’re a protective bunch.”

Daniel puffed out his chest. “Yeah, Mum! We’re protecting her honour.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it one day. Maybe.”

Max winked at her. “Just doing our duty, angel.”

And that day did roll around.

The atmosphere in the head teacher’s office was tense—at least, it was supposed to be. Theo sat in the chair next to his parents, arms crossed, chin jutting out defiantly like a boxer after a victory. His knuckles were still a little red, and there was a faint smudge of what could only be described as "evidence" on his school blazer.

The head teacher, a middle-aged man with a thin mustache and a receding hairline, sighed heavily as he glanced over the disciplinary report in front of him. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, I’ve called you here because your son, Theo, punched another student today. Quite hard, I might add.”

Mary-Ann, sitting to the side with her own chair, looked both embarrassed and secretly pleased as she avoided her brother's gaze.

Max sat back, trying—really trying—not to crack a smile. He’d been biting the inside of his cheek since they arrived, but the mental image of Theo landing the punch was too much. His lips twitched dangerously, and he coughed to cover the beginnings of a chuckle.

His wife shot him a sharp look. “Max.” Her voice was low, a warning in one word.

Theo, sensing the opportunity for backup, jumped in. “It wasn’t my fault! He called Mary-Ann a...a...” He hesitated, glancing nervously at his mother.

The head teacher cleared his throat uncomfortably. “A ‘church freak,’ I believe, was the term used. Followed by...other comments.”

Max’s lips pressed together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he fought the laugh bubbling up. He turned his head away, trying to disguise it as clearing his throat.

Theo, emboldened by his dad’s silent support, added, “Yeah, so I punched him! Right in the mouth.” He demonstrated with his fist, making a swooping motion like a dramatic action movie. “I didn’t even miss!”

Max lost it. A short laugh burst out before he could stop it, and he quickly turned it into a cough. His wife’s head snapped toward him. “Max Emilian!”

Her tone was scolding, but there was a flicker of amusement she couldn’t quite hide.

Max held up his hands in mock surrender. “What? The kid’s got good aim!”

The head teacher looked horrified. “Mr. Verstappen, this is hardly something to celebrate. Violence is unacceptable under any circumstances—”

“He started it!” Theo interrupted, glaring at the head teacher.

Max leaned forward, his voice mock-serious. “Way to go, buddy.” He reached out and fist-bumped Theo before his wife could stop him.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Max, you’re not helping.”

Mary-Ann finally spoke up, her voice small. “He only did it because he was sticking up for me. It’s...kind of sweet.”

Her mum sighed, turning her attention back to Theo. “Theo, you can’t just go around punching people, no matter what they say.”

Theo blinked at her, his face scrunching up in confusion. “But Dad did. He punched your dad, and no one told him off.”

Max froze, wide-eyed. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not drag me into this.”

But his wife turned to him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Oh no, you’re definitely getting dragged into this. Theo wouldn’t be punching anyone if you hadn’t decked my dad in front of him.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I mean...to be fair, your dad deserved it.”

“And that’s exactly what Theo thinks about this kid!” She gestured at their son, who looked increasingly smug.

The head teacher cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, while I understand the context, the school has a zero-tolerance policy for violence. Theo will need to serve a two-day suspension.”

Max shrugged. “Two days? That’s not bad. Maybe we can—”

His wife slapped his arm lightly. “Stop encouraging him!”

Theo grinned, clearly unrepentant, and looked up at his dad. “Can we go home now?”

Max ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, champ. You earned a break.”

His wife threw her hands in the air, muttering something about boys and her fate of living with three of them. Despite her frustration, though, there was a small smile on her face as they walked out of the office.

As Max and Theo bolted out of the school building, laughter echoing in the hallway as they raced each other to the parking lot, she shook her head with a small, amused smile. Mary-Ann stayed by her side, clutching her school bag as they walked together at a slower pace.

Her daughter’s quietness didn’t go unnoticed. She looked down, noticing how Mary-Ann stared at the floor, her brows furrowed in thought. Gently, she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“You okay, baby?” she asked softly.

Mary-Ann shrugged, hesitating for a moment. “I guess. Just...what that kid said about me at school.”

Her heart sank. She crouched down a little to meet Mary-Ann’s eyes, pausing in the hallway. “It’s okay if it upset you, you know. What he said was mean, and he was wrong.”

Mary-Ann chewed her lip, looking conflicted. “He called me a ‘church freak.’ I guess I don’t really know if I am one. Is it...bad?”

She felt her chest tighten at the vulnerability in her daughter’s voice. She took Mary-Ann’s hand and gave it a squeeze, guiding her to sit on a nearby bench where they could talk.

“I know how you feel,” she admitted after a moment. “When I was your age, I got called things like that too. Kids made fun of me for going to church, for praying, for all the little things I believed in. And it hurt.”

Mary-Ann blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Really? You got made fun of too?”

She nodded. “I did. A lot. But you know what? It doesn’t matter what they think. You don’t have to go to church just because I do. If you don’t like it, or if it makes you feel weird, you don’t have to keep going.”

Mary-Ann looked up at her in surprise. “You mean that?”

Her heart twisted as she nodded. Christianity was such a core part of her own life, something that had anchored her during her darkest moments. Letting go of the idea of her children growing up in the church wasn’t easy, but she also knew she couldn’t force it. Faith had to be their choice.

“I do, baby. What’s most important is that you feel comfortable. It’s not about what Dad or I want for you—it’s about what you want for yourself. Okay?”

For a moment, Mary-Ann said nothing, her little face thoughtful. Then she smiled, small but genuine. “I like going to church. I like Sunday school, and singing the songs. And I don’t care if kids at school think it’s weird.”

She felt a wave of relief and pride as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “That’s my girl. You’re so brave, you know that?”

Mary-Ann grinned against her shoulder. “Thanks, Mum.”

The sound of Max and Theo shouting in the distance broke the tender moment, and she shook her head as she helped Mary-Ann up.

“Come on. Let’s see if those two actually waited for us at the car or if they’re already halfway through that oil change.”

Mary-Ann giggled. “Dad’s definitely winning. Theo’s fast, but Dad’s faster.”

“Let’s go find out.” She smiled, holding Mary-Ann’s hand as they walked toward the parking lot.

Later that day, when the sun set and all of them had packed up the dinner table, Max found himself curled up on the sofa with his wife. His arm was draped around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest, their legs tangled as they relished a rare quiet moment. The kids had been unusually calm after dinner, and they’d taken full advantage of the lull.

But the calm didn’t last.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the peace, and all three kids came bounding into the room. Theo was leading the charge, with Mary-Ann and little Daniel trailing close behind, their faces lit up with excitement and mischief.

Max groaned, shifting slightly but keeping her close. “There goes the quiet.”

She smiled, sitting up just as Theo hopped onto the armrest of the couch. Mary-Ann plopped herself between her parents, while Daniel crawled up onto Max’s lap, nestling in without hesitation. At his age of 12, he just got away with it.

“What’s up, guys?” his wife asked, amused by their sudden energy.

Theo spoke first, his voice laced with curiosity. “How did you guys meet?”

She exchanged a look with Max, one eyebrow raised. “Where’s this coming from?”

Mary-Ann piped up, clearly eager to share. “We were looking in Dad’s office—”

Max’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Wait, wait. You were snooping in my garage? What were you doing in there?”

Daniel, ever the bold one, looked up at his dad with an innocent expression. “Pictures! We saw pictures!”

Theo nodded, practically bouncing now. “Yeah, pictures of you two when you were younger! You looked so different, Mum. And Dad didn’t have any grey hairs!”

Max snorted. “Gee, thanks, bud. Remind me who gave me these grey hairs.” He shot a mock glare at Theo, who grinned unrepentantly.

Their mother, who was laughing now, shook her head as she ruffled Mary-Ann’s hair. “You guys found the old photos, huh?”

Mary-Ann nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. “Mum, you looked so pretty in your dress, and Dad looked cool with his jacket and helmet.”

Max smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Cool, huh? You hear that, Angel? They think I’m cool.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re inflating his ego, guys. So, why do you want to know how we met?”

Daniel, still snuggled in Max’s lap, whispered conspiratorially, “Was it like a movie?”

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around Daniel. “Sort of. It started with a Church and a bit of my chivalry. And maybe a little bad timing.”

She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. “He was as stubborn as he is today, kept offering to carry some boxes for me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Max teased, brushing a kiss against her temple.

Theo leaned forward, his curiosity insatiable. “So, you just saw Mum and were like, ‘She’s the one’?”

Max pretended to think for a moment. “Pretty much. Your mum was gorgeous. Still is. But it wasn’t just that. She had this thing about her—strong, determined, kind. She made me feel like maybe I could be a better man.”

She rolled her eyes but was clearly touched. “Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.”

Mary-Ann sighed dreamily. “That’s so cute. I want a love story like that one day.”

Max groaned dramatically, covering his face with a hand. “No. Absolutely not. You’re staying single forever.”

Mary-Ann smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “Dad!”

Daniel, trying to stay on topic, asked, “Then what happened? After the parking lot?”

She smiled, pulling her kids’ attention to her. “A lot happened. We fell in love. We got married. And then we had you guys. And that’s the best part of the whole story.”

As the laughter faded and the kids began settling down, she found herself staring at the curious, innocent faces of her children. Their questions had slowed, but the warmth of the moment lingered, leaving her with a quiet space to think.

The memories came rushing back—the hurried whispers in the dark, the rumble of Max’s motorbike as they fled the life she’d desperately wanted to escape. The fear, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming relief when she finally felt free.

They deserve to know, she thought, her gaze drifting to Theo, who was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and Mary-Ann, who was resting her head against her shoulder. Even Daniel, with his sleepy eyes and little fingers clutching Max’s sleeve.

But how could she tell them? How could she explain the life she’d left behind without tainting their view of the world? Of family?

Her chest tightened at the thought. What if knowing changed how they saw her? Or worse, how they saw Max?

She bit her lip, glancing at him. He was leaning back on the couch, his arm resting along the backrest, his other hand absently ruffling Daniel’s hair. His eyes caught hers, and his brow quirked slightly, a silent question: You okay?

She nodded subtly, offering him a small smile.

No, she decided. Not now. Not yet.

They were still so young, their world so pure. If she told them the truth, it wouldn’t be to satisfy curiosity or ease her own conscience—it would have to be necessary, something they were ready to hear. And she would know when that moment came.

For now, she tucked the thoughts away, sealing them behind the same mental door she’d locked so many years ago.

And that’s how life was for the Verstappens.

Years passed, but the heart of their family never wavered. She and Max, once two young souls bound by circumstance and love, had built a life that was both imperfect and extraordinary.

The children grew, each carving their own paths in the world. Theo, ever protective and headstrong, went on to study engineering, inspired by the hours spent in the garage with his dad. He eventually took over the family’s repair shop, rebranding it with a sleek new sign that read “Verstappen & Son’s Auto.” He still teased Mary-Ann mercilessly but remained her fiercest defender.

Mary-Ann, with her gentle strength and quiet faith, became a teacher. She carried her mother’s warmth into the classroom, where she guided and inspired children from all walks of life. Her love for the church endured, but she carried it as her own, unpressured by anyone. She often joked with her parents that her students were easier to handle than her brothers.

And Daniel—sweet, clever Daniel—emerged as the family dreamer. With a heart as big as his father’s and a mind as sharp as his mother’s, he pursued a career in writing, crafting stories that captured the chaos and beauty of family life. His parents swore they recognised pieces of themselves in his characters, though he always denied it with a smirk.

She and Max grew older, their once fiery love mellowing into something deeper and even more unshakable. The garage was still Max’s domain, though he worked less and spent more time tinkering for fun. She often joined him, still the same girl who’d fallen for him in that tiny trailer all those years ago.

The white picket fence eventually aged, its paint chipping in places, but it stood strong—just like them. Sunday dinners became a cherished tradition, with laughter filling the house as their children and, later, their grandchildren gathered around the same worn dining table.

In the end, their lives weren’t perfect. They had their disagreements, their challenges, their moments of doubt. But they always had each other, and that made all the difference.

And as they sat together on the porch in their twilight years, Max’s hand in hers, the memories of their wild, beautiful journey were enough to fill a lifetime.

Because that’s how life was for the Verstappens—a story of love, resilience, and the kind of family you fight for, cherish, and hold onto forever.

the end.

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, I want to congratulate for gaining such big audience on this blog. Also wanted to say thank you for all your hard work. You are one of the blogs that made me come to this fandom in 2020-2021.And thanks for all emotions that you're precious writtings gave me.

As for headcanons, can you please write another "How it to be friends with... " but with Leona, Sebek, Jamil, Ortho and Deuce? The first one was cute and funny

Have a nice day and stay hydrated 💐💐

Thank you for your support!!

It’s been so long, I forgot I had written friend headcanons in the past 😅 (They’re here if you’re interested! Featuring Idia, Riddle, Ruggie, Floyd, and Kalim~)

Curiouser and Curiouser...

You do many of the typical things that friendly schoolmates do together: walking to class, collaborating on assignments, eating lunch in the cafeteria, studying, etc. You even get into trouble together, though Deuce attempts to be the "honors student" that keeps you two out of it. (He just ends up getting dragged into the situation with you anyway.)

He’s pretty low on pocket money, but if he notices that you don’t have much to eat yourself or you’ve forgotten or skipped over a meal, Deuce offers whatever he has on him. A protein bar, a juice box, whatever! You can always share, right?

The first to throw a punch in your honor! … Okay, maybe that’s not something to be so proud of, but he’ll still do it if someone’s really rude to you. Deuce will at least try to get them to apologize. If they put hands on you though, all bets are off.

Eager to help! Is your phone busted? Hand it to Deuce, he’ll try tinkering with it until it’s operational again. The snack you paid for isn’t falling out of the vending machine? He’ll kick the crap out of it until your chosen snack falls out (along with about 10 other items).

His mom knows all about you because Deuce is constantly telling her about his cool new buddy. Sometimes you’ll walk in on him on the phone and he’ll put his mom on speaker so you can say hi to her. She often thanks you for “looking out” for Deuce while she’s not there—he needs more people like you to support him!

Being friends with Leona grants you a number of "privileges" (which is what he calls them). These so-called "privileges" include: entry to Savanaclaw and/or the Botanical Gardens (without risking the threat of being wailed on to get out), slightly more patience when you call out to him in public, and the random chance for him to chuck his credit card at you and command you to run an errand for him. ("While you're at it, buy yourself something nice for the trouble," he adds.) How... kind (?) of him, right?

He's the kind of friend you have to practically harass to convince him to get out and do something with you. Leona would rather snooze or hang out indoors reading or playing chess or logic games. Sometimes you have no choice but to bend to his whims because otherwise you're not seeing him at all. It's his way or the highway!

If he's in the mood, he'll play a little rough. Leona's not exactly super affectionate (like, he's not going to hug you), but he'll occasionally ruffle your hair or get you in a headlook and noogie you. It's his way of greeting you or saying, "job well done".

A lot of your conversations with Leona are essentially extended exchanging of quips. He’s still every bit as sarcastic and snarky as he is with his enemies, perhaps even moreso with you. It’s not done out of animosity, but rather because Leona wants to keep you on your toes. After all, he let you into his pack—so you can keep up with him, can’t you?

In spite of how lackadaisical he may appear, Leona's the first person you know you can go to if you ever need help. A school assignment, physical training, life advice, whatever. He has this way of saying what you need to hear (even if it isn’t pleasant; he's a realist, not an optimist, and he's not going to sugarcoat it for you) and kicks your ass into high gear.

Definitely the “mom friend”, though out of habit and not because he wants to or actively tries to be. The kind of guy to fuss over whether you’re eating enough or sleeping at an appropriate time.

He often looks frazzled when you greet him in the halls or hang out after classes (which he so rarely does anyway because he’s usually for his hands full and with some Kalim-related task). Jamil vents to you later about what he has to put up with. You’ve never heard him use such colorful language and creative phrases outside of these vents. (He makes you swear to secrecy.)

On hangouts, Jamil comes overprepared. Even if it’s not raining, he brings an umbrella. Even if it’s not sunny, he brings sunscreen and bug spray. In fact, Jamil always shows up with this massive bag of what he calls “essentials”. First aid kit, water bottles, hand sanitizer, hand cream, portable battery, snacks, lip balm, sewing kit, travel toiletries, pens, spare eating utensils, a flashlight, a multitool, sunglasses, a notebook, a mirror, tissues—

His homemade lunches look so good; you tend to stare with quiet longing until Jamil sighs and asks if you would care for some. He acts like it’s a slight inconvenience to him (to salvage his pride and to come off as humble), but really he’s fishing for an excuse to share his food and get a compliment from you. In exchange for feeding you, you feed his ego.

Jamil insists he doesn’t need you to come to his basketball games, he can play just fine without you there. Well, that doesn’t stop you from showing up with a homemade poster to wave around and shouting his name. He acts embarrassed about it and scolds you afterwards, but he’s secretly pleased to have your support.

Ortho's the friend you feel the instinctive need to protect (on account of his small, boyish stature)--but don't be fooled! It's him who's jumping to shoot a laser beam at people who pick on you and you having to hold him back from firing.

He's cute and he knows it. Whenever he wants to get his way (like, say he wants to pick what you do today), he'll put his acting chops to use and pretend to get all sad or claim that you're bullying some innocent little kid to win the disagreement.

You play a lot of video games and board games together but you can never quite win most of the time. Ortho's advanced learning algorithms allow him to learn your playstyles and adapt on the fly, leading to him cinching victory after victory. He takes it easy on you once in a while though, just because it wouldn't be fun to go entirely unbeaten! More recently, you've been really into this racing game called Sugar Rush--and Ortho likes to play dirty and targets you with all the traps he can get his hands on.

You have movie nights too! Sometimes it's mainstream productions but sometimes Ortho shows you sneak peeks of the Film Research Club's latest projects (where he stars). He doesn't eat or drink, so you can monopolize all the snacks and chill as Ortho gets the film rolling... from himself! He has a built-in projector which makes it possible to watch movies on any wall.

Being besties with a supercomputer has its perks. Ortho can fact check you on the spot and provide any and all information you might be looking for in the blink of an eye.

Sebek is one of those friends who speaks callously even to his own friends. He does this with Silver, and he does this with you as well. Every nice thing he says is phrased like an insult (not necessarily aimed at you; it’s usually condescending others when comparing them to you), and it takes some time getting used to his… unique way of communicating.

Big golden retriever energy. He gets so excited when he sees you and practically charges over to give a greeting in the mornings. Same goes for him catching you in the halls--he'll shout from the other end and wave excitedly.

He's in the habit of making book recommendations to you, even if you're not a reader. Each book is selected with the utmost consideration for your interests and reading level; Sebek has oftentimes already gone to the trouble of reading these books and now is waiting on you to give them a shot so the two of you and talk over it and share your thoughts.

He strives for self-improvement and encourages you to do the very same. Sometimes he invites you to join him and Silver for a workout, but if that's too much for you then he can recommend some simple weight-lifting, stretches, or a brief jog.

If you're feeling down, he'll give you a thunderous pep talk that'll get you right back up on your feet! It's like being hit with a jolt of lightning--you're revitalized and ready to tackle the world again.

[koifishhies]

yes yes yes yes yes!! oh my god i completely forgot about eating food with his hands part. every day I’m less and less convinced chibnall autism coded this man on accident. another thing I’ve noticed is in his little office, he always has the lamps on and rarely the ceiling light. or after Sandbrooke is solved, when he goes to have a good cry in the empty interrogation room, he keeps the lights off. probably a sensory thing. ceiling lights can be a sensory nightmare.

ugh there’s just so much about him. the way he wears the same things every day, is an extremely picky eater, doesn’t really say “hello” or any kind of greetings and it rubs people the wrong way. i need to rewatch this show with my notepad out like a maniac.

also ABSOLUTELY agree with what you said about Ellie, when she chews him out about how he behaves and he begrudgingly takes the food. that’s definitely around the time he was starting to build respect for her and see her abilities. so he backtracks—where before he’d completely dropped the mask and decided to disregard and forgo even trying to make any social connection in Broadchurch, he decides, hey, this one is worth it. he compromises, he takes the food. and he starts working with her more, challenging her, bouncing ideas off her. and though he may be framed as the more experienced one, her contribution teaches him and makes him a better detective too.

but then, the whole ordeal with Joe happens, and Ellie is absolutely wrecked, obviously. but even though this whole time Alec has been the one telling her to close her heart, be objective, look at her town from the outside, etc etc, he doesn’t go in with an “i told you so” mentality. he is so, so sympathetic, and he is so horribly sorry for her. you can see how hard he’s trying to be gentle and comforting when breaking the news to her. because he’s been through this before. he’s been through an absolutely horrific case that tore his family apart. he’s watching all that happen again, to someone he might even dare call a friend, and he can’t do anything to stop it. he can only be there, and understand.

though they had the potential to be close before, I think this really cemented their bond/friendship. the whole situation leads to Ellie being socially ostracized, which, in a way, puts them on the same level. who can she spend time with, who won’t look at her with either judgment or pity, but Alec? the man who’s been socially ostracized his entire goddamn life?

when Alec brings her into the Sandbrooke case, you can argue he does so because he wants her fresh and different perspective, while also trusting her expertise. sure. but I doubt he would have done it if Ellie hadn’t gone through what she had. it’s such a vulnerable thing for him to do, isn’t it? he said it himself, this is the case he nearly died over, the one that completely ruined his life. he even tells her about his trauma with dragging Pippa’s body out of the water. it is such a blatant display of trust. and I absolutely adore your take of saying he did it for her sake, to occupy her, to give her something to do because he cares about her in that way. it’s like he’s trying to tell her, hey, look, I made it out of this. yeah I came out a little broken, but I made it out the other side, and you will too. broken hearts can mend, after all.

and Ellie’s not ready to accept it yet! even if it’s exactly what she needs! she works on the case, kind of pretending the whole time that she only did it because Alec asked her to, and that’s all. she doesn’t want the olive branch, she doesn’t want the hugs, she doesn’t want the comfort. and Alec doesn’t push any more. he does what he can, and he leaves. but the foundation has cemented itself, and by the time he returns to Broadchurch in s3, look who’s working together again!

it’s such a multi-faceted, complex bond you don’t see portrayed so well in media very often, ESPECIALLY between just friends, ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY between male-female friends. i absolutely rambled for way longer than i intended to and this post is INSANELY long at this point, but i love them so much and finding different angles to look at them is making me foam at the mouth with joy. no wonder David says Broadchurch heavily changed and influenced the landscape when it came out, you can’t expect this level of care and depth from just any detective drama

I just love how broadchurch (unintentionally) made an autistic-coded detective, but instead of going the sherlock route they made him just. a guy. he’s not special in any way, he’s not a savant, he’s just kinda There and Traumatized About It the entire time.

like alec hardy wants one thing in life and it’s to do his job, but he’s also constantly faced with the unfortunate reality that his job Sucks. he’s also actively dying half the time. and that’s it that’s his character.

also he’s not a twink like most autistic coded savants in media, and I may not be a middle aged dad but that’s the kind of representation I can get behind

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon folds up Cassie’s T-shirt and Cissie’s towel into careful imitations of nesting pillows, which is pretty straightforward too–those are both things the girl in the video’d had and had demonstrated a couple different ways to fold. Bart’s weird cowboy outfit is . . . slightly less straightforward, maybe, but he figures it out, and then he half-lines the seams of the Super-Cycle’s cushions with all of the “pillows” he’s made and then tucks Robin’s scent blockers into the seams underneath them. He doesn’t have enough stuff to cover all of the seams or line the sides of the cushions or anything, and obviously he doesn’t have actual pillows, much less actual nesting pillows, but–but he sets it up okay, he thinks. Like–it’s not bad, he means. 

Like, at least for a first try from somebody who’s never been in or around anyone else’s nest, anyway.

He does kind of wish he had a little more stuff to line it with, maybe, but . . . well, he doesn’t have anything else that smells like any of them anyway. 

( for just a second, he thinks about how if somebody’d given him . . . a cape, or something else about that long . . . 

he doesn’t think about what he could do if he had somebody’s cape. )

He tucks Bart’s weird cowboy boots and spurs and hat in the Super-Cycle’s front seat. They’re not gonna work actually in a nest, obviously, but–like, he doesn’t know, he just doesn’t wanna leave them on the floor or anything. And he did bring ‘em, so . . . yeah. So he tucks them in the front seat, and then he goes back to his pretty weak excuse for a nest and starts fussing over it, kinda, which is sort of lame and dumb of him, but . . . 

But it’s his. His nest. 

And the Super-Cycle made him a place to make it and is purring its engine while he does, and the girl in the video made that video for younger omegas who need tips, or just don’t have a pack omega or anyone to teach them how this kind of thing works, and he found stuff that smells like everyone on the team, even if in Robin’s case it’s just that it smells like his blockers, and–and no one can tell him he’s not allowed to have one. No one can tell him he shouldn’t. 

And he’s not stuck being an alpha. 

Kon sniffles a couple of times, then rearranges his makeshift “pillows” again, trying to figure out the best order to set them all in, just for like–whatever’ll look best, or be the most comfortable, or– 

The Super-Cycle’s horn trills a little greeting, and Kon’s head snaps up reflexively. What–? 

Red Tornado’s standing in the doorway of the garage, expressionless as always but somehow still projecting a vague aura of bemusement. Kon freezes, still holding Cassie’s folded-up T-shirt in his hands, and sort of–doesn’t hide it, exactly, but definitely does shove it down into his lap behind the side of the Super-Cycle, hopefully below Red Tornado’s immediate line of sight. 

It’s a dumb instinct, probably. But it’s . . . what he does, yeah. 

“Superboy,” Red Tornado says slowly, his mechanical voice just as blank as his metal face. “What are you doing here? You made no mention of intending to visit the base today.” 

“I–uh–” Kon stutters, and takes an unsteady breath, and–Red Tornado doesn’t have a designation, technically. Like–he did when he was human, obviously, though Kon actually doesn’t even know what it was, he’s realizing, but–but physically, Red Tornado’s all metal and wires and machinery. He doesn’t have scent glands or anything like that, or even scent receptors, so he just smells like . . . well. Metal and wires and machinery, and whatever he’s touched lately. Not like an alpha or a beta or . . . or another omega. 

Kon doesn’t know which one Red Tornado was, or if he even still thinks of himself as whatever he was, or if he even cares about, like . . . that kind of thing anymore. Red Tornado said he forgot how to be human, for a while. He only woke up again when he and Robin and Bart tripped over him while messing around in the cave and accidentally annoyed him enough that he got over his “am I even human anymore?” angst just to shut them up, pretty much. 

But no matter what he was or how he thinks of himself now, Red Tornado’s still a person. A person who is definitely human-level sapient and can, like–talk.

Can say what he thinks, and tell other people things. 

And–yeah, Red Tornado can’t smell anything, but it’s also–it’s also probably pretty fucking obvious that Kon’s been making a nest, depending on how well the guy can see inside the Super-Cycle from the doorway, and–and– 

And he feels embarrassed, again, and barely keeps himself from hunching in on himself. He–normally he’d make himself big, if he was nervous or embarrassed. Normally he’d–do that. But right now . . . 

Right now, it feels way harder to do that than usual.

[moontheoretist]

The hints were always there

I'm still playing through the Veilguard, but when it comes to the lore and possible retcons I feel like I have a vastly different stance than other people. I saw people being displeased and saying that DAV did ignore the canon or devs forgot about the established canon (which may have happened with so many revisions to this game, not gonna lie), but to me it's a case by case basis and so far I have no complaints (but admittedly I didn't finish the game yet, so it may still change).

For example: the entire thing with changed properties of the Blight is a sign that rules of the Blight within the world also changed. The game goes about it roughtly like this "long time ago Blight was even more nasty and bad than it's now, then Solas sealed it in the Fade that got separated from the mortal world, so when the Magisters entered the Black City and released some of it, it entered a vastly different world where there were no Fade and no Elven Gods". Which to me implies that the state of the world post-Veil and the fact that the Elven Gods were no longer in it affected the Blight. The world in which the Blight was born was long gone so it adapted accordingly. It became more passive despite still being operational, and got linked to the presence of the Archdemons (i.e. Blight exists, but doesn't happen on the larger scale unless there is a blighted Old God leading the charge (except of course underground where dwarves are battling it constantly). It found new ways to create the Darkspawn etc. because it was forced to do so to continue operating despite being cut from the source of its power.

Therefore it's not weird to me that all of the possible cures to the taint / Blight / the Calling talked about in the previous games / media aren't applicable in Veilguard anymore. Ofc they aren't. Blight is no longer a sickness in state of semi-active dormancy. It's no longer passive as it used to be. It's at full "fuck remission, imma strike again" stage doing whatever the hell it wants. You can't cure it with the old methods you knew anymore. You have to first improve the cures you found before in order to have a shot or beat the stronger virus now at all. So expecting all this old lore to be somehow relevant still seems excessive. Albeit I wouldn't say no to the game actually openly saying "we tried all those methods and each failed, this new Blight can't be cured by them".

TBF it seems that the hint that Elven Gods were always connected to the Blight was right there since the very beginning in DA: Origins already, otherwise the Old Gods wouldn't be so important for the Blights to happen. We just simply didn't know that the Old Gods and Evanuris were connected, even though for years we theorised they were connected in some way, if not one and the same. To my knowledge nobody ever proposed an idea that the Old Gods were basically glorified pets / war hounds for the tyranical elven gods. We were right tho that they were one and the same, as the dragons were their connection - speakers for the imprisoned Elven Gods.

In Veilguard it's very much implied during Solas' memories that all of the new Darkspawn we meet in DAV are in fact not new but just old. They simply had no way of existing without Fade World and the Elven Gods in the world, but now with the Veil weakening and two of the Elven Gods released upon this world via a powerful magical ritual that possibly weakened the Veil even more, Blight could finally become active in a way it wasn't for thousands of years. The same logic was also applied to elven artifacts that Veil Jumpers are dealing with in Arlathan forest. The ritual that Solas did and the releasing of the Elven Gods, it all affected the world in ways nobody knew it could before. Nobody knew how important or connected to the world Gods were or how powerful they truly were. As primordial spirits turned first people of the elven kind, they have far more intrinsic connection to and understanding of the world than any other race, except the dwarves so far (as dwarves turned out to truly be the children of the Titans that were actually the first inhabitants of Thedas as far as we know now). We don't know yet how humans and the Qunari factor in this (albeit I have some theories about the Qunari - in short they could have been created as soldiers / slaves that were supposed to be immune to the Blight thanks to the dragon blood they inherited, but it turned out they weren't and hence why they're referred to as a "mistake" or "beast of strange blood" with a "blood engorged with decay" (Corypheus) or having a "blood that doesn't belong to their people" (Kieran)) but it's undeniably true that elves and dwarves are connected to the world of Thedas in ways breaching human understanding. So it's not weird that world went wack when just two of the Elven Gods came back on top on Veil weakening and Titans already waking up in Inquisition.

I know what you will all say. "But what about Solas or Mythal?" Mythal doesn't count, because she never managed to get back her true form and kept existing in a state that is very similar to Anders' case of spirit + human merging. Solas doesn't count as he was asleep for thousands of years and when he woke up he was not even able to use any of the artifacts due to losing his powers (hence why he needed to consume Mythal's essence / soul). On top on that he also wasn't Blighted. He only counts as far as his ritual goes because it did wack to the world. (It fortunately didn't release more Blight, but did use shitton of magic that must have impacted the world where Veil was weakening all over already).

Not to mention how many things suddenly make sense.

Mirror in Mahariel's Origins being Blighted and Tamlen seeing a "great blackness" in it confirms that Ghilan'nain was connected to the Blight, as it was her mirror that Tamlen and Mahariel find - in DA2 it specifically has a symbol of a Halla on it to highlight it.

Dwarves not having dreams and being the only race that can't perform magic but also being able to perform it when they're born as Genlock Emissaries, mages in general getting magic power from the World of Dreams but when they're made tranquil loosing that ability and their dreams with it as well as the elves becoming magicless in the world where dreams and reality no longer coexist is all an expression and a result of Blight being created by the actions of the elves in the Elven-Dwarven war and by the creation of the Veil afterwards. (Like seriously it never struck me so much as it did when I played DAV - before I was like "oh yeah magic comes from the Fade" completely forgeting it's the dream realm that souls visit in dreams and go to after death).

The fact that the Blight song is always driving the Darkspawn to seek the closest Old God in order to blight it and take charge of the army of Darkspawn that otherwise is aimless without anyone to lead it. Blight probably designated them due to their link to the Elven Gods and used them as proxy in place of the missing gods because it was already accustomed to being used by Evanuris in their wars, hence why Darkspawn need Archdemon for the Blight to happen - they can't invade the surface without a commander.

There is probably more of those stuff.

The more I keep thinking about it the more I feel like this:

It was all just THERE. All. This. Time. In plain fucking sight. But we didn't get it, because we lacked the necessary contexts to get it all!

We thought that the Blight was only connected to the Titans, but we also knew before that the Elven Gods were possibly blighted thanks to what happened to Corypheus and other Magisters Sidereal. We just didn't connect the dots that Blight may albo have been used by the Elven Gods in similar way Corypheus used it. Hell, it's so ironic that in some theories we considered a Blight an immune system reaction of the body to the invading viruses and now it turned out that the Elven Gods - the ones that were considered the first invaders by the Titans, became their tool to spread the Blight (even tho they think they lead it as all powerful rulers it's very much possible they're just useful idiots). It doesn't matter that the Evanuris were the ones who actually created the Blight while seeking more power (via Titans' souls), what matters is that it was all connected and Blight was punishment meant for THEM.

The fact is they destroyed their own Empire with this blighted power, no matter how much they gloat about how powerful they've become.

No matter what they say, Titans' dreams have already won.

[buckbuckleykinard]

here's a little snippet from a fic i probably wont ever finish but may repurpose into something else

He curls his legs into his chest and presses the warm glass of his phone screen to his ear.  With his free hand, he drags his fingers across the rough, night cold grit of the stone beneath them, just to feel the scratch against his skin.  Little grits of sand and moss lift up and stick in the whorls of his fingerprints as his phone rings once, twice, three times–

“Evan?  Are you okay”

Tommy’s voice is drowned out a little by the distant but unmistakable sound of chopper blades whirring to a stop.  It’s only 6pm in L.A. and Tommy is still on shift.

“Shit, you’re at work.  Sorry.  I forgot about the time difference.  I’m fine I–”

“It’s okay.  We just got back from a call, just give me a second to get somewhere quieter and I can talk.”

Buck considers telling him it’s fine, that he’s fine, that his crisis can wait till Tommy isn’t at the tail-end of a 24 but the problem with that is that he wants. And maybe he’s selfish and childish and all the terrible things his parents think he is but maybe Tommy wants, too.  

Because Tommy answered his call.

“Okay, I’m in the bunks now.  How are you?  How are your parents?”

“I'm good.” A lie. “My parents are fine.  How they usually are.”  The painful truth.

A semi truck speeds by, blaring its horn at nothing, headlights cutting through the dusty blue evening.

“How are they usually?”

Mean, Buck wants to say.  Careless, oblivious, belittling.  Maddie always says they’re not bad people, just bad parents, and he has always parroted it back.  He feels like he’s said it so often that it had just become true, but at the time he hadn’t been around them.  It was easier to put on some rose-coloured glasses and pretend that things were better than they actually were, or at least less painful.

“I don’t think they like me very much.” Maybe it’s too honest but he finds the more they talk, the more he wants to be honest with Tommy.  Some wicked part of him thinks that maybe if he shows this man the ugly, jealous rot of his insides, that he’ll leave before it hurts too much.  That it won’t be like Abby, who he’d thought he loved, or Taylor who he knew he did.

His parents loved Daniel, and how fucked up is it that he’s jealous of someone whose dead.  Then again, maybe they're more alike than he thought because yes, they had loved him, but they erased him too.  They scrubbed their lives clean of him, threw out his things and painted over the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.  Maybe the only difference is that Buck is still alive.

“Yeah?” Tommy says, a little probing but kind.  Buck knows that if he dropped it, if he moved on to something lighter, that Tommy would let him.

“They repainted my room”  He knows it's ridiculous as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“They didn’t tell you they were going to?”  Tommy asks, like this is a completely normal thing for an adult man to be upset about.

“No, they didn’t say anything.  They threw out all my stuff too.  Not that there was a lot there, but stil–”

“They should have at least given you the opportunity to come get what you wanted to keep.”

“Yeah, exactly!”  He says with a chuckle.  “I mean, I’m pretty sure my skateboard was still in the closet up there.  They’re not cheap, you know.”

“You skateboard?”  Tommy asks.  Buck swears that he can hear the smile in his voice.  

“I used to, sort of.  I'm pretty sure I spent more time falling off than actually riding.”

“God, you were a total punk in high school, weren’t you?”  Tommy laughs.  It’s nice, like warm honey settling low in Buck’s stomach. 

“Oh, definitely.  I think I spent most of my childhood injured in one way or another.”  It’s hard for him, looking back, to find a memory that doesn’t include bandages or a cast or a sling of some kind.

“You know, considering that the first time we met was flying a helicopter into a hurricane, I’m really not surprised to find out that you’re incredibly reckless with your own safety.”

“I had a motorcycle, too.  Got it basically as soon as I learned how to drive.”

“God, Evan.”  His voice is still tinged with amusement.  It floors him a little, how Tommy had managed to steer the conversation away from his morose family musings toward something lighter.  It makes Buck want to run through every time he’s ever almost died.  Chase away the amusement and ruin this on purpose before he does it by accident.

“Does it bother you?”

“Depends on why you're doing it.”  Tommy doesn’t ask what he means, doesn’t need to.  Buck wonders if he can smell his insecurities through the phone line.  He waits for Tommy to continue.

“Every time you go into work, you put yourself in dangerous situations to save lives.  So do I.  That’s the job.”  Buck can hear some shifting from Tommy’s end, tries to imagine him sitting on the edge of one of the bunks at the Harbour station, phone pressed against his ear.  Maybe he’s gotten more comfortable, lying down, eyes closed as he tries to get a little bit of rest between calls.  They shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone, but the thought of having to do this in person, to have to look Tommy in the eyes and ask to be soothed, sends a chill through him that's much stronger than the one caused by the rapidly cooling evening air.

Some kind of sports car speeds by, music thundering through the closed windows as it slows around the corner and disappears.

“But being reckless with your life because the only time you felt like your parents looked after you was when you were hurting?  Yeah, that bothers me.”

And there it is, The Breaking Point.  He’s found a way to push Tommy too far.  Tommy, who’d already given him far more chances than he deserved.

“I mean, I’m familiar with shitty parents, believe me, but if I made my kid feel so unloved that they thought they had to hurt themselves to get my attention, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.”

Huh.

That’s unexpected.

“Evan?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”  There is another beat of silence.

“Sorry, if I overstepped.  I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t.”  Buck says, definitively.  “I’ve just never really had anyone see it like that?”

“Like what?  What do you mean?”

“Like my reckless behaviour isn’t some sort of defect of my personality.  Like maybe, I was hurting, too."

[hey-august]

Putting Buggy in my favorite tired old romcom trope and imagining him trying to set up a „perfect“ date where he tries his best to come across as a well mannered, bright, conventionally handsome gentleman, because he thinks that’s what YOU would want him to be. He knows he scored this date out of pity, but once he’s done with this evening, you’ll see him as more than a joke of a man, he can do it!

Cue slapstick scenarios en masse, causing him to loose his temper at least once, trying to impress you with a fact that YOU correct him on and that’s just so obviously wrong and an accident that leaves him with only half an eyebrow, singed tips and the wax nose (ESSENTIAL TO HIS PLAN! If he could get rid of that eyesore in the middle of his face he may have had at least a snowball chance in hell with you) to finally abandon ship and melt right of his face.

And you’re enjoying yourself tremendously. You had your doubts when Buggy came in looking so unlike himself, trying to be something he’s not, but now? After all that chaos and one candle accident later? Now that you’re sharing the bottle of wine he snagged before hauling out of the fancy place he tried to wine and dine you at, sitting on the beach laughing about everything and nothing? Perfect date. Would do again. You absolutely love that clown shit.

ADORABLE. PRECIOUS. LOVELY.

LET'S EXPLORE THIS CONCEPT SOME MORE, ANON.

WC: ~800 Warnings: buggy x GN!reader, some profanity, drinking, that's about it

Of course it’s a pity date - that’s the only reason you agreed so readily. It’s definitely not because Buggy blurted out the question before you had a chance to ask him on a date. And the way you choked on your drink? That had to be because you thought it was a joke. Not because you were surprised and excited.

Let’s not talk about everything leading up to the date itself. Like how all his “good” shirts were dirty or wrinkled. One smelled like old hot dogs. So he had to borrow a shirt and it was fine. Kind of plain, though. Not flashy. Plain white cotton, but at least it fit.

And his hair. A low ponytail would suit the occasion. Hopefully you wouldn’t notice his greasy roots. Buggy ran out of time to wash his hair because of everything else he was working on. Mainly the nose. He sculpted it out of wax and it looked… It would probably look alright during a candlelit dinner.

Buggy just needed to get through the dinner, prove himself as a decent guy, score a second date, maybe a kiss or two, and that’s all. Not too much to ask for, right?

Well…he forgot to bring you flowers. He showed up empty handed (except for the sweat collecting in his palms). You didn’t say anything, but he’s certain you noticed and were adding it to The List of Failures. And that’s only the start of his panicking.

Next, Buggy demanded a table. That table. Yeah, the one that is already occupied. Fine, okay, this table is alright. He wanted the darker corner since it was more intimate (not so he could hide his nose or the sweat stains in his pits), but whatever. 

Then he demanded the good wine. The real shit, not that cheap boxed shit. And he can tell the difference! Which is true, Buggy is a boxed wine connoisseur. Well…here’s the thing. Smell and taste are tied together, and that wax nose was more decorational than practical. Some words were had over the wine, before the sommelier brought over a dusty unopened bottle for Buggy to inspect and give gruff approval for.

You tried to interrupt and say the other wine was just as good (and far less expensive), but Buggy was too eager to please and too nervous to back down. 

The rest happened in a blur. Buggy doesn’t remember much. He might have talked over the waiter explaining the day’s specials. He definitely kicked the table a few times while trying to sit comfortably. Maybe he laughed a little too loudly and another table told him to be quiet. And maybe he threw a bread roll at that table.

Buggy definitely remembers knocking over your glass of water, though. It was an accident. He was reaching for your hand for some dumb reason and your drink got in the way. Of course he wanted to help, so he leapt out of his chair, kicking the table yet again, and pretty much threw his napkin at you.

And in this chaos, he must have leaned over the table too long. Over the tealight. Even though it was a small candle, and it was only a few seconds, his glob of wax was ready to make a grand exit. It was already barely clinging to his sweaty oily skin, and this was the right time to just -PLOP- right into a puddle of water on the table.

But here’s the thing that you’ll take to your grave. Seeing Buggy hunched over the messed up tablescape, hands over his face, and looking downright mortified and murderous - well, it made your heart pitter-patter.

Buggy looked like himself, for the first time that night. That “nose” was not really your preference, so hiding the middle of his face from view reminded you of how much you were crushing on the cute clown.

Dinner was over at this point. Staff was walking over, the table with an extra roll was also shouting for Buggy to be ejected, there was broken glass on the table. It was time to go.

Ending the night on the seashore was a much better way to spend your first date with Buggy. He had pulled out his red nose from a pocket so he could actually enjoy the wine. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t taste any better and he lamented not throwing it at the sommelier before leaving.

You’re glad he didn’t though. Because then you wouldn’t get to watch him drink from the bottle under the moonlight. His adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. Drops of liquid escaping from the corners of his lips and starting a journey down. That white shirt was now unbuttoned (so his armpits to dry out) and rolled at the sleeves. 

And, well - damn.

Buggy was definitely getting a second date and a few kisses. Maybe something a little extra for dessert.

[kiryoutann]

warning(s): MDNI, ANGST, simon riley being an asshole (like really), kind of gore description as metaphor for REAALLYY desperate love??? non-consensual tracking by reader (SURPRISE!!)

Simon might be the worst denialist ever. Because, how could he say it was all casual?

“I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon gritting his teeth, jaw locked. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

[sneak peek of chapter 13 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.".]

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[zuko-always-lies]

Do you think that the betrayal at the Boiling Rock was done to give a reason for Azula's eventual breakdown in the finale? The more I think about it, the more Mai's anger towards Azula doesn't make sense to me. I know that people say that it's because Azula left Zuko to die, but if that's the case, she should have been angry with Ty Lee as well, since she also tried to stop them from leaving the prison. Also....they were chasing after Zuko and Iroh for the entirety of book 2, even though they kept on running into the Gaang and never actually came across Zuko and Iroh, and that was just Azula. Mai had zero issues with Azula's mission in the second season, and she already loved Zuko by that point. It feels like the writers just forgot about that.

So the thing to understand that in (well-told) narrative, everything happens for a reason. Everything serves a very deliberate narrative purpose. But perhaps we should take a moment to reflect on the differences between Book 2 and Book 3 characterizations before we go back to the Boiling Rock:

Book 2 Azula has some distinctive edges to her which shows the original ideas the writers had. She was consistently depicted as quite hostile to Zuko (this wasn't changed until the writing of the last episode of the series, when the writers realized that they needed Zuko to go home). She was depicted as using fear to control soldiers in a military context, including Ty Lee, but never as using fear to force or substitute for personal relationships. Azula was depicted as mean and cruel(and I believe she was originally supposed to be crueler and more merciless than she ended up being, but it ended up being scrapped as too dark). However, she was also, aside from maybe one scene, was depicted as stable and mentally put together well. Finally, Azula was never depicted as sympathetic in Book 2, and we can't be certain of what the original intentions in this respect were.

Book 2 Mai also has a couple interesting characteristics. First, she was consistently written as not being afraid of Azula. Second, the seed that she had a crush on Zuko was clearly planted. However, since Zuko was never supposed to "go home" in the original outline, it's not clear how this might have flowered, and it's possible the writers didn't know either.

Now let's move on to Book 3. We should note that Book 3 came out in two parts, but I'm not quite sure how much that reflects what the production looked like. It might be that everything was mostly decided before they started writing, but based on the shift between the first and second halves of Book 3, there might have actually that they mostly wrote Book 3.0 before they figured out what they were doing for Book 3.5

Anyways, Book 3.0 (and really we can kind of include the Crossroads of Destiny here) had two shifts in the depiction of Azula's character. First, she was now consistently depicted as caring a lot about Zuko. The first episode of Book 3.0 was kind of ambiguous here in a way that suggests the writers were tentative about this, but every following episode clearly showed Azula being kind to Zuko in one way or another. Second, The Beach introduced the idea of Azula as sympathetic character, including her trouble with her mother. Note that there are two ideas that Book 3.0 does not introduce or use: the idea of Azula being mentally ill/crazy (at her worst, Book 3.0 Azula is only a bit over the top), and the idea of Azula controlling her friends through fear. In fact, The Beach "normalizes" Azula's relationships with her friends a lot.

Meanwhile, Book 3.0's depiction of Mai centers around the seed about her relationship with Zuko flowering. 3.0 always continues the trend of depicting her as unafraid of Azula and generally not giving a shit what Azula thinks.

Book 3.5 is where the final shift in the depiction of Azula occurs. There are two new ideas introduced here. First, there's the idea of Azula using fear and terror to force people to have relationships with her due to Azula's own fear of loneliness. Let me point out that this idea conflicts strongly with her past depictions, where Azula only used fear as part of her methodology of ruling. Mai being "afraid" of Azula is also suggested, for the first time at this point, despite all previous depictions of Mai emphasizing that Mai was not afraid of Azula (while Ty Lee was). Second, the idea of Azula being mentally ill and "crazy" is introduced late. Previous depictions of her showed her being mean and cruel, but not her being "crazy."

Now, at long last, we can return to your question. Again, we must remember that everything which happens in a story happens for a reason. The Boiling Rock episodes served one primary purpose: depicting Zuko and Sokka bonding and getting to know each other. This is why these episodes were written. Hypothetically, reintroducing Hakoda and Suki could be another purpose for them, but Hakoda was instantly written out again and the writers made it clear that they had zero real ideas for Suki in subsequent episodes and essentially just had her character hang around in the background 95% of the time.

However, if the purpose is to show Zuko and Sokka bonding, why do Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee appear? Why does Azula show up and fight Zuko, and why does Mai save Zuko? None of this was necessary for the Zuko and Sokka bonding experience. I suppose having Azula and Zuko fight furthers their rivalry, but literally in the very first scene of the next episode (The Southern Raiders) there is a fight scene between them which serves to further this purpose far more effectively. The writers also could have written Mai's sacrifice as having a big effect on Zuko, but we all know they avoided that too.

The reason that Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee appear has to be almost solely for reasons related to the arc of those characters. The writers wanted Azula to have a big breakdown and go "crazy," but they hadn't built up toward that idea at all in the previous two seasons. They needed to speedrun toward it now, and having Mai and Ty Lee betray Azula offered a convenient start toward Azula's downfall and mental health collapse. Moreover, it also allowed them to depict Mai and Ty Lee as "redeemed" and "on the right side now," while having them stick by Azula until the end would make depicting this problematic. Zuko being Mai's love interest and Ty Lee always being depicted sympathetically probably contributed to urge to redeem these characters, but it's also important to remember that the writers took pains to make sure that child characters were "happy" and/or "redeemed," even if they died tragically, during the series. The only real exceptions to this were Hahn (NWT warrior who was Yue's betrothed) and...Azula. One of the reasons why Azula's ending strikes so many people as odd and at odds with the themes and tone of the series is that almost every other child got some sort of "happy" or at least honorable ending, while Azula was not only humiliated and utterly broken but also denied the slightest hope of happiness.

[dobadoo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOU HAVE ENTERED TEYVAT ꒱ ˎˊ˗ you got into teyvat

what is life like for a Descended from our world in this hell ? ?

✧ warnings —fem !! reader, nothing. Just mentioning survival..butchering ?? ✧ a/n — ..this is not a fic with a char x reader.. I wrote this so that some ppl, would understand that if they really got into teyvat, all their fav characters would not fall in love with them at once lol. I tried to write everything as naturalistically as possible..NO I FORGOT ABOUT UR PHONE !!

Actually, I just wanted to speculate - I forgot to mention phones and such, but oh well.

I really think that life in Teyvat for a Descended from our world would be just hellish torture - yes, of course, you will get used to it, but that will be after the adaptation period. I would like to travel around Teyvat, but in reality, most likely, I would sit in the city and be paranoid about going out for the time being.. You cursed those moments when you dreamed of getting to Teyvat and starting dating some Zhong Li, Al-Haytham or Diluc (God forbid)

Life turned out to be no fairy tale and you had to achieve everything yourself, without parents or friends by your side. Yes, your little companion (your choice) was with you, but it was more of a pleasant addition, so as not to go crazy from loneliness.

You knew a lot and it was very hard to remain silent when Kaeya or Jean explained to you the things that you had learned long ago. It was because you did everything automatically and without explanations that many smart people began to suspect you - Rosaria, Kaeya and Diluc among them, and that already means a lot. Sometimes you are afraid to trust, because you know how they treat you.

Even if you tried to hide it, believe me, sooner or later you will say something unnecessary. And only the Archons know how others will react to the fact that you know the history of the kingdom of Sal Vindagnir or Kaenri'ah.

This is why you train too often to become stronger, dreaming of reaching the level of deities - perhaps from the outside you will seem like a fanatic, but you are so afraid not to live, but to survive in this world. Even if you are a super-lazy person, Teyvat will bring you down to earth (in the literal sense of the word).

In order to earn at least something, you did not immediately go on an adventure - you are calmer if at least a few mora coins are in your pocket in case of something. Lisa and traveler helped you find a job and from the moment you appeared in Teyvat, you not only diligently studied the language, writing and their rules, but also worked. Mostly, this was work in Diluc's tavern or looking after cattle, sometimes you babysat children and carried out various unofficial assignments. At that time, you did not have the vision, and your powers were at the level of an ordinary person, so you could not join the guild yet.

At first, guards were assigned to you, or Kaeya himself, being free, would go outside of Mondstadt with you. It was awkward that you were being coddled like that, but you understood that it was necessary - any Hilichurl or even a slime could beat you. You still remember how one of the last ones burned you badly while picking mushrooms…

And don't think that you were an important person in a good way - the Slimes don't show up in Teyvat every day, who knows what you're capable of…

At first, when kind old lady wjo name Inga took you in, you cried at night, biting your lips and covering your mouth with your hands so that the old woman wouldn't hear. And only your sweet companion was a witness to your hysterics. You were so homesick and yearned for the important person who had been stolen by an unseen force.

Yes, Teyvat was really beautiful - picturesque views, simpler people, especially in Mondstadt and Sumeru, interesting situations and adventures every day, but… Home is more important. You were happy, but more upset. This is not how you imagined being in a time warp - not knowing the language, laws, an unknown future, danger at every corner…

Time passed differently than in the game - the Traveler with Paimon often visited your friends, and the events of Liyue were just starting to unfold. That's how you met, even receiving some help. And from that moment on, the hostility between Paimon and your companion began..

So, hard work began to harden you and you approached Diluc with a request to teach you defense. Raghwingd hesitated a little, but agreed, although there were difficulties with his busy schedule. When Diluc could not attend training, he asked Noelle or Amber to help you, and if things were not going well at all, then any other knight.

Days of hard training, receiving the vision during an attack by a crowd of Hilichurls and Mitachurls helped you get back on your feet. You even began to understand a little what people wanted to talk to you about (before that, your little Campanion served as a translator and diplomat) and learned to formulate complete sentences. Writing was lame, but you did it, there was no limit to your happiness!

You still cried at night…

Gradually, you began to get out of the city on your own and could even use your skills and strength in the fight against Mitachurls and Hilichurls! even with treasure thieves.. But you had to be not so sad at the sight of a dead person whom you killed with your own hands.

So, you set off on a journey.

Survival in the wild was a living hell for you and not as easy as it seemed at first glance - dangerous animals, monsters and weather conditions almost knocked you down. You carried out assignments and simultaneously investigated how you could have gotten into your world. And when progress began, you became a full-fledged traveler.

You made many acquaintances, but that's not what we're talking about now.

You were often afraid to fight monsters, and when there were situations when you helped the Traveler defeat stronger creatures… You gradually began to get scars, but this served as a reminder that although you ended up in a fairy tale, this fairy tale is dangerous and cruel.

You had to work hard to become quite a famous traveler in all of Teyvat, and you even had the honor of traveling with Lumine/Aether!!

By the way, some characters, although you know their history, repel you with their actions - now you understand that these are not just beautiful pictures, but living people with their vices and their own cockroaches in their heads. For example, at your first meeting with Scaramouche - he wanted to get rid of you by setting his Fatui agents on you, he was cruel, more cunning than in the game. And the same Tartaglia, on the one hand, you liked spending time with his brother and with him, but on the other hand, he is the harbinger of Fatui, and who knows what is on his mind.

You found a lot of treasures that you ran to sell - from there you get money for normal food (although you are used to cooking on a fire), an overnight stay in a hotel and some rest (your companion mumbles when every time you visit Inazuma, you rush to the hot springs). But you are not always so lucky, so sometimes you enjoy fruits and hunt (which, by the way, most likely ends with your stomach rumbling with hunger).

By the way, you don't just get meat from boars, did you know? Butcher the carcass.

You have to have connections, the most useful of which are like Bei Dou and Ningguang (although you'll have to do something outstanding for Li Yue to pay attention). BeiDou, for example, can take you to Inazuma for a small amount of mora, or for free if you're on a closer relationship.

How many times were you nearly killed by lightning on Seirai Island? How many times did your sweet (no) companion freak out and pull you half-dead out of dangerous situations? I can't count them, really.

The Wanderer taught you to write much better at the request of the Nahida - you got along well with these two, surprisingly. Although you had some skirmishes with the wanderer recently… And he's not a very patient teacher. Should I remind you how many times he scolded you and hit you on the back of the head like a guilty child? Damn it! Why not tignari?..

Once (who are you telling - almost no one believes and laughs) you even spent the night with the Hilichurls. They are warm, by the way. You were very lucky that you came across a friendly tribe, although it was hard to fall asleep because of the fear of being strangled in your sleep.

In general, for many people, including those well known to us as Jean, Diluc, the traveler, Tartaglia, Tignari, the Wanderer and many others, you are strange - you can always blurt out something eccentric, swear and so on. Many even, especially Cyno,Itto, Sethos.. Kaeya Tartaglia and Hu tao like your ridiculous jokes from your world.. But in many ways, whether it's a mask or not, you behave friendly and playful - it's much easier not to see the vices of this world.

But sometimes you still cry at night..

@crimsoncandy04 @anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @hitomisuzuya

[idea-less-author]

I'm rewatching Doctor Who, and first of all, I forgot how much I not only loved this show but also Rose Tyler as a whole. Also nine needs more love. Anyway, I just finished episode 1×6 Dalek, and all I could think was how interesting it would have been if the Dalek survived and joined the time traveling duo. Walk with me a second.

We all known the Daleks, what they're like, what they are, what they've done, what they're capable of. But, this Dalek has spared 2 human lives. It's just kinda meandering with Rose questioning everything. It just wants freedom, but what does that mean really? The Doctor comes in and threatens it, sees that it's changed due to Rose's DNA, and is feeling something other than hate for the first time in it's existence. It's no longer a true Dalek, but it's still alone. It asks Rose for it's final orders. And, what if, she says no. And doesn't change her mind.

This is the first time the Dalek has ever felt the full spectrum of emotions. Of course it's over whelmed. It's neever felt anything more then maybe anger and hatred and now there are so many new things to feel.

Grief for what it once was and for all it once knew, fear of all of the unknown ahead, I'm sure some guilt for not only what it has done, but for even allowing itself to be changed in the first place. It gained human emotions for the very first time, moments after finding out that it was alone, and after being tortured for who knows how long. It's standing with the being that ended the time war by massacring both of their people, and the woman who' s DNA changed you so fundamentally that you know longer know what you even are. You're feeling sunlight for the very first time. That does not sound like a being that should be making life changing/ending decisions at that moment.

So, what if Rose refuses to give that final order. She recognizes all of the above. She's a lover, she's compassionate, she's emotionally intelegent. She doesn't like the suffering of anyone, including her enemies, but death would not be her first answer. It hasn't been before, it wasn't after, so why this time?

No, what if instead Rose chose to be kind to the Dalek by being a bit crule, and refusing it's request to die. Instead she convinces the Doctor to bring him aboard the ship. She picks the Dalek up, right out of the exoskelton, and not only gives the Dalek, it's first ever physical contact, but a new home. (I understand that the Dalek is squid-like and slimey but honestly I don't know how much Rose would care about that when trying to show compassion. Hell she tried to show compassion by carressing the Dalek earlier in this very episode.)

Nine would not be thrilled with these developments. You want to bring one of the creatures that helped end his people, terrorized the Universe, and is the reason that his alone, onto HIS Tardis? Are you mad? And they would bicker a bit. Shouting would happen, and the Dalek might even be on the Doctor's side. But I think in the end Rose would look at Nine with her big doe eyes, passionate about life in the way that she always is, and he would cave. He would be upset and cross (with himself mostly), but he would let Rose bring it onto his ship. I mean the Dalek has changed, and let's be real, he's the reason the Daleks alone, as well as himself. He had his reasons, but do they even matter at this moment? With this Dalek?

Now the next episode does take place near immediately after this one on station 5 and whatever, but even with the Dalek I think that the adventure with what's his name (I can't be bothered to look it up atm but you know the guy) can go much of the same as it did. The Dalek get's let on the Tardis recovering from it's ordeal, rethinking everything, and what the implications for it are now that everything is different. I think all of the Canon episodes for this season are much of the same too, just add a couple of new adventures showing the Dalek what life can be now with a full sectrum of emtions. And because it got these emotions from Rose, probably a shit-ton of compassion. I also think that it would start to build itself a new mechsuit, or whatever you want to call it. But this time, it has more uses then just death, destruction, and conquering.

The Dalek and the Doctor would have a whole frenemies thing. The Doctor doesn't trust the Dalek because it's a Dalek, and the Dalek knows that the Doctor should be it's number one enemy. But, they are cohabitating. And Rose wants things to work out, so they try to not be hostile. But every now and again, they find themselves... talking. Specfically when the Dalek is working on it's new suit, the Doctor will, help? Tbh it starts out with him being extreamly suspicious of the Dalek and wanting to keep an eye on it. Which leads to helping, segestions, being a sound board. And if I'm being honest, if it were a someone other than Nine I would say that this would be the time he notices what's happening and go and skulk around for a it before the cycle happens again, but I honestly think Nine would notice, and just continue on. Get to know the Dalek. Trust in Rose. At some point I do think that the Dalek chooses a name for itself, at Roses prompting. No idea what, but just another way that the Dalek changes and differenciates itself from the rest.

Now while this is all happening, they are still going on the rest of the adventures in the season. Jack joins the T.A.R.D.I.S. team. I think he'd kinda love a Dalek that's no longer a Dalek, who wants to live life, and maybe do some good for once. He joins the building sesions. Rose is there, it started off as her chaperoning The Doctor and The Dalek, but it just became hanging out and providing commentary fairly quickly. They're all having a grand time. It's strange, but it's theirs. Then Station 5 part 2 happens. The Doctor, Jack, and Rose get yoinked into their respective game shows. Rose gets disitegrated. Their Dalek and the T.A.R.D.I.S. are found and The Doctor and Jack are mourning. Their Dalek knows something is off. They figure out that the Daleks are back. They go to the Emperor.

Now I can't quite decide if Our Dalek would even be tempted by the emperor or not. Maybe at first? but It's changed so much. The Emperor likely wants nothing to do with It anyway because It's no longer a True DalekTM. And Our Dalek has changed so much. SEEN so much. Has been cared for by Rose Tyler, which we all know is a life chaging experience.

Once again I'm not entirely sure how the fight against the Daleks end for Their Dalek. It gets sent with Rose to protect her while everyone else fights and dies against the Daleks. It help Rose get back. Or It stays behind with Jack and The Doctor, completly fine with sacrificing it's life to save humanity as long as Rose is safe. If we go that route there are several ways you can go from there. It dies fighting what it once had been a hero. It dies, and comes back like Jack. In that case I think that It would continue on with Jack as a companion. Or maybe It goes It's own seperate way from Jack after resuraction. It lives, no need to be resurected. It could continue on with The Doctor and Rose. It could be left behind with Jack. It could stay behind with Jack. It could decide to go separate ways from the Doctor and Rose (I don't think Ten would be as tolerant of Our Dalek and It would sense that, so It goes on it's own adventures. Or maybe it goes and finds Jack after The Doctor becomes Ten.) Idk So many ways that it could go and I like a lot of them. I think bringing It back like Jack and letting them Travel together is my favorite.

I was just overtaken with this idea and had to share. I have no idea if this had been done broe, I'm sure it has, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I just started rewatching and it's over taken me. I'd love to hear other people's thoughts.

[grimaldiapologist]

Woke up to roll out of my bed today because my body's decided to murder me in my sleep and this and everyone's tags are the first thing I've seen and like. I've been howling.

Yes. Yes I've found my people. We've been served a tragedy and you know what I don't like about that? The tragedy. What if it was a (dead serious) sitcom instead.

What if we had the most dysfunctional family built nearly entirely out of nothing but political necessity into a marriage that used to be shelter and used to be refuge from exactly the madness you've now had to bring into it? To nurture the dream of Rome, in a world that simply isn't ready for her to change yet, what if your most straightforward means of change come from acting as if your insurrection is an alliance? That you all WANT to be there? That NOBODY is being coerced? That you're NOT holding the emperors hostage in a 24/7 guarded bedchamber with a sheer drop down two stories outside the only two latticed windows? That they are NOT cooperating with your insurrection because their only other alternatives are to face public execution now or face public execution after a pre-settled trial, AND because they're playing you for more freedoms to get back to exactly the position they used to have before you, without telling anybody about it, took your five friends and their 7 000 men combined into the heart and marrow of Rome to stand by in case someone decides to lay sideways across your self-justified march to free the empire from the kind of bloodshed you disagree with? That you WANT to endorse their rule - WANT to bring them into the family line - and aren't doing this purely because it's the only compromise that you all can settle on?

Acacius, night after night with less than 3 hours of sleep, coming to let the emperors know if the council has decided to just execute them yet: I hate you, I hate your guts, I hate everything you stand for, we forgot to feed you and I do not care one bit because for months now I've watched you starve continents for your own pleasure, I will sit here to tell you exactly what I've thought of you this whole time now that you're nothing but two half-dressed, terrified children being held at swordpoint, and I am slowly, inevitably, going to find myself in a compromised position where I realise I mean that. Two terrified children no one ever told how to rule. No one ever told how to win friends, how to build trust. No one ever told how to show compassion to, so you don't know how to show it to others, either. Just two miserable, entitled, privileged boys stuck in a world where they've never had anybody outside each other, so you just don't think further than yourselves. Pretending that I'm not growing fond of the way you shut up when spoken to, firmly, with authority, and respond to gentleness where you expect cruelty. Pretending I'm not looking forwards to leaving the plans, the organisation behind for the night so I can sit with you, to challenge you, to pick you apart and see where the rot really lies, and which parts could still be salvaged. Pretending it didn't profoundly change how I see you to begin with to find out that, when put against the wall, your first and last thoughts are of and for each other, that instead of throwing the kinds of insane tantrums I'd have expected from tyrants, you shelter each other first and do whatever it takes to stay together, because that's the only shelter and security you've ever had.

Lucilla, meanwhile, exasperated, sitting in the gardens eating grapes compulsively: I hear what you're saying but I also think you've eaten something toxic and should lie down so you don't end up dead for it. I spent months being their prisoner and they're the worst people to exist, and everything about them reminds me of the worst of my brother.

Lucius, unseen, unheard, unknown, tracking his path through Rome to kill LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE IN THE STORY sans his mother whose allegiances have still deeply disappointed him: I'm going to make this so much worse

unhinged concept (I'm entering that stage): Lucilla actually does adopt Geta and Caracalla which ruins Acacius's life but also makes him their step-father and they finally get an actual father figure who teaches them how the fuck to hold swords and not be the worst people ever.

and we just cancel Macrinus entirely, which, I don't know what the hell happens to Lucius but that's someone else's unhinged concept to worry about.

And we put Caracalla on a leash because the boy cannot behave. That's no way to treat your mother

[chazz-is-a-zelda-fan]

too late to start, got your heart in a headlock (i don’t believe any of it)

oh my GOD was this a fight to finish 😭 the idea initially came to me so quickly that i knew i had to do something for it, so i chopped up a photo of myself and drew on top of that. i’m not super happy with how it turned out but :( not much i can do about it now

i think my clip studio hates my speed paints because i can never seem to have enough file space for them AND my drawings 😭

[agardenintheshire]

tolkien (a studied linguist) and me (has taken their fair share of linguistic classes) staring at each other after the narrator casually drops that the hobbits just 'forgot' their languages and simply adopted the common speech as if that is a normal thing that happens out of the blue and isn't connected to at best cultural assimilation and at worst colonialism, imperialism, and oppression