#i had to keep erasing and correcting myself

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @crossroadszine vol II! I wrote Aang last time and wanted to keep filling in the gaps between Korra and ATLA a bit, but with Toph this time. And keep the bits of lore I liked from Korra like Toph’s one night stands XD (my headcanon came true)

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When Toph was a teenager, there had only been one word to describe the air temples: empty. No matter which of the four they had travelled to, the mountain tops had been silent tombs, devoid of any of the sounds she associated with a city. Instead of laughter, the wind hissed as it ran through the long-abandoned buildings. Instead of neighbours chatting, lemurs trilled. The gang’s quiet voices as they tiptoed through the corridors had felt almost too loud.

Now in her twenties, none of that was true. Dozens of feet walked across the old stone paths, people of all nationalities quietly chatting as they wandered between the buildings. Above, Toph heard the low guttural calls of sky bison. A child whooped. A woman chided her friend. And there, on a terrace, she heard a familiar voice coo softly.

Toph quietly padded forward and leaned against a pillar as she listened. Katara stood, her weight shifting unevenly from one foot to the other. Sokka had said she was pregnant; for once, it actually was the case and not just him being paranoid. Aang crouched before her, whispering under his breath.

“Hey there,” he murmured. His voice had deepened with age. It didn’t suit the silly boy who always played pranks. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

Clothes rustled. Aang moved his hand across Katara’s slowly swelling stomach. Toph wondered what sort of expression he had. Tender, for certain. He had always been a big softie, even when they were kids. Maybe he’d have tears in his eyes too.

Had her father ever looked at her like that? In the beginning, perhaps. These days, even with their relationship slowly mending, she couldn’t quite imagine her father acting like Aang did. Then again, she never imagined talking to her parents after she left, so maybe she’d be surprised.

Four smaller feet padded up to Toph, interrupting her thoughts, and Momo plopped down beside her, chattering eagerly. Toph cracked a smile. Some things remained the same no matter how much everything else had changed.

“Toph!” Katara called, noticing her. Her hair was even longer now; these days it gave a small swish whenever she moved. Yet today Toph couldn’t hear any of the usual sounds. Maybe Katara had bound it up in a bun. As she turned, her robes swayed in the wind.

Aang jumped to his feet. He bounced as he turned towards her, too full of energy as always. “You made it!”

“Of course I did, Twinkle Toes!” Toph grinned as she pushed off the column and approached the couple. Momo chirped as he followed. “I wouldn’t miss you making a fool of yourself for anything.”

“Hey!” Despite his protest, Aang laughed. It was deep and rich, and she wished she’d been around when he’d cracked his old, high-pitched voice. It would have been a barrel of laughs.

Katara didn’t wait before hugging her, her arms wrapping around Toph tight. “It’s so good to see you again.”

She closed her eyes, relaxing. Even now, Katara’s love felt like a mother’s, and it was almost fitting that she was going to be a real one soon. “Can’t believe Aang actually knocked you up.”

“Toph!” Katara playfully punched her shoulder, giggling. “That’s so crass.”

“Someone has to be.” Toph pulled back, grinning.

“Not in front of the baby.” Aang brought her in for a hug of his own now. “I don’t want him to end up like you.”

“You mean awesome?” Toph scoffed, squeezing him a little harder. He exhaled sharply, almost coughing as the air rushed out of him, and she took it as a victory. “He couldn’t do that anyways, not when you’re his dad.”

“You two,” Katara sighed, gently pushing them apart. “Behave.” Rolling her eyes, she stepped back. “I’ll go get the others. We’re all together now!”

“And then we’ll par-ty,” Toph added, waggling her brows as she waved. Aang tensed, and she turned to him, suspicious. “I know you’re both boring, but we’re having a party, right?”

“We are.” Aang rubbed his neck. He sounded almost embarrassed. “Just…uh, maybe not here.”

“Huh?” Toph frowned, unable to believe her ears. “You had me climb all the way up this freakin’ mountain and now you’re telling me we’re not having a party here?”

“It’s just…this is an air temple,” he explained, still sounding sheepish. If she touched him, she was certain his skin would be hot.

“Last time we came here, we launched fireworks. Which, again, are kinda useless to me because I can’t see them,” Toph reminded, crossing her arms. Aang had gotten more serious with age, sure, but she hadn’t imagined he’d turned boring already. Her partners-in-crime were starting to disappear. “A party isn’t going to be much worse than that.”

“Yeah, but…” Aang took a deep breath. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her around and steered her towards the main courtyard. “Back then, there wasn’t anyone living here. Now there is.”

Pride rang through his words as they passed by several strangers. Whereas before they had skirted around Toph, now they stopped and bowed towards Aang before continuing. It was almost strange to see people being so reverential to her old friend. Even weirder to realize he might have actually earned some of that.

“We’ve set some rules, and while we’re adding in some new twists, there’s a few hard lines.” Aang paused.

The pregnant silence left Toph with a sense of foreboding. “And?”

He mumbled, “No meat.”

Toph barked her laughter. “No meat? Seriously? Katara’s got to hate that.”

“She still does,” he confirmed with a tired groan. “And then she said if she’s having a baby, she’s eating whatever she damn pleases, so we’re going to celebrate a little farther down the mountain.”

She could just imagine Katara’s reaction, the way she’d stiffen her spine, the furious tap of her foot, the rising tidal wave of her voice. Sometimes, Toph couldn’t understand how the two got together. Other times, like earlier, she heard them together and knew there was no other route.

They were cute. Teeth-rotting cute.

Toph would never say that aloud. “You two are going to be such homebodies now.” A second later, she corrected, “Actually, you’re already homebodies.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Aang snorted defensively. “You know how creative you have to be to prank someone you see everyday? It’s a lot of work being a homebody.”

“Complaining about doing nothing—even more proof that you’re a homebody. You’re hopeless.” Toph threw her hands in the air sadly. “You’re all going to start a book club at this rate. And then I’ll catch Sokka knitting a sweater and it’ll all be over.”

“Huhh?” Aang crossed his arms and cocked his head. Confused, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

Toph raised her hand, ticking a finger as she listed off each offense. “You and Katara are having a baby. Sokka and Suki are getting married. Zuko already has a kid. Seriously, you’ve all gotten boring. When was the last time we all met?”

“That…” Aang hummed as he mulled it over. Momo clambered onto Toph’s shoulder as she waited, his tail curling around her neck like a soft scarf. After a few minutes, Aang reluctantly admitted, “You’re right, it’s been a while.”

“Of course I’m right.” Toph sighed again. “No one knows how to have fun anymore.”

“Hey, we still—I do!” Aang harrumphed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She wondered if he was giving that puppy pout that Katara adored. “Last month, we pranked the mayor. Together. And it was my idea.”

“A small glimmer of hope.” Toph give him a pitying look. “Your other pranks are terrible.”

“They’re all great and you have no taste,” Aang countered.

She scoffed, turning away. He wasn’t entirely wrong. They did still meet, in twos and threes, in well-planned trips that were scheduled weeks ahead of time. It was fun, but not like before. Not in the with spontaneity their journey across the world demanded, not even in the way they’d make do while repairing the world after Ozai’s fall.

Part of her felt like she was at a standstill, gathering moss in the woods. Toph fought bandits and small-time thieves during the night, politicians and scummy merchants during the day. It was too banal. Too repetitive.

Maybe wanderlust was in her bones.  

“You don’t miss it?” she asked.

“Miss what?”

“The adventure.” She shrugged half-heartedly, not sure what else to call it. “Fighting villains. Saving towns. Hell, when we cleaned this temple up years ago, we had to fight a ghost.”

Aang shuddered. His breathing quickened, his feet turning this way and that as though the ghost would reappear at any moment. “Don’t remind me.”

She chuckled. “You really hated that.”

“It wasn’t really a ghost!” he protested, rubbing his arms. “It was…I don’t know…I don’t miss that.” 

Toph pressed, not letting him worm away. “What about the rest of it?”

“The rest was great.” She could hear the smile in his voice. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, half-hugging her. “It was a lot of fun. Sometimes I wish we’d just all…go on another trip. Leave everything behind and wake up lost in the desert.”

Toph burst into laughter, remembering the last time it happened. “Sokka would die.”

“He might, and that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Aang laughed with her. His hand was heavy and warm as he gripped her shoulder. “It was fun. I miss it. But this isn’t all that bad either.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.”

“Really, it isn’t. It’s really…it’s grounded.” Aang struggled to find the words.

Toph bit her lip. She’d heard those words more often than she liked in the Earth Kingdom. “You’re talking like an earthbender.”

“I’m twenty-five percent one,” Aang replied cheekily, jumping back when she swatted him. “But seriously, it’s nice. Before we were running around. We barely got time to sleep before we had to move. Now, we have a place to call home. A place we can stay.”

“I’ve never needed that.” If she looked back, it was obvious. She had run away from her home. He had been forced to leave. The difference between them had been there from the start.

“I don’t think you’ve ever needed anything.” He was serious now, no hint of the joking or teasing from before in his tone. “But you know, there’s other ways to have fun.”

Toph pursed her lips. “How?”

“Vacations. Trips. Pranks.” Aang turned as more Air-Nomads-to-be passed by. “Teaching. It’s a different adventure, but it’s still fun. There’s always something new. Zuko says being a parent’s kinda like that too. You still have to face the unknown, but it’s not all life and death. And wasn’t that what we fought for?”

“I don’t want the danger, just…” Toph scuffed her shoe. Those sounded fun, in the way that a holiday sounded fun. A small, temporary reprieve before the mind-numbing boring returned. “I don’t think that’s enough for me.”

“It might not be.” Aang squeezed her shoulder. “And that’s fine too. If you need to do more, explore further, that’s cool. That’s just who you are. We’re not stopping you from travelling.” Mischief coloured his voice as he added, “Just don’t forget to invite me sometimes.”

It was oddly reassuring. Toph reached up and covered his hand with hers. “I thought you were trying to be a serious Avatar.”

Aang shrugged, adding impishly, “I’m serious about everything. Even getting in trouble.”

Toph burst into laughter. Honestly, when Aang had said he was going to try living in the air temple, teaching the future Air Nomads, she had thought it was a mistake. A big one. It turned out it had been exactly what he’d needed. “You know, Twinkle Toes, I didn’t think you’d be a good teacher. Guess I was wrong. You’re not terrible.”

“I love you too.” He loosely hugged her. “And if you ever get tired of travelling and need some place to stay, well, the door’s always open.”

Toph shook her hand dismissively. “No way. I know what you eat.”

“It’s not that bad!” She could hear the pout as Aang protested. “Katara likes it most of the time.”

“Uh-huh.” Toph rolled her eyes. Honestly, as much as she loved them, between Aang and Katara, their poor kid was going to grow up without a cool bone in their body. If she had a kid—

Toph blinked. If she had a kid.

If.

Who said she couldn’t have one?

“You know what, I’m getting a kid too,” she announced. Aang yelped in surprise and she ignored him. Honestly, the more she thought about it, the better it sounded. A kid of her own. Someone she could go on adventures with in the future. Someone she could pass on everything she’d ever learned.

Aang had called it interesting. So had Zuko. Maybe she could dip her toes into it herself.

He sharply breathed in, trying to recover before he asked, “Y-You know it’s not like you can get one in the store or anything.”

“I know.” Toph’s smile grew broader. It just felt right.

“They’re…you know how they’re made, right?”

“Duh.” She smirked—now that it’d come this far, she wanted to have some fun with it. “We’re in our twenties. Obviously, they get dropped off by a flamingo-stork.”

Aang’s jaw dropped. He took in a sharp breath, but he couldn’t say anything.

Toph laughed. “Just kidding. But I’m getting a kid. One that’s stronger and better than yours.”

He squawked, “It’s not a competition!”

“I know.” Toph grinned. It wasn’t an adventure, but it was fun, and maybe she could see what this parenting deal was like. “You’ve got no chance at winning.”

[knoepfl]

Perfectly Imperfect Love

Here we are again this time with our lovely Dottore! I noticed there seem to be a lot of people who like him (including myself) so this was a must! If you enjoy this and/or want to see other characters check out the Masterlist or/and write a comment or request for a character and I will be happy to do them!^^ Again the inspiration and the picture was from @devotion-disorder so check them out!!! Have fun^^

Masterlist

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The sterile walls of the lab seemed colder than usual. At first, Il Dottore—the infamous Harbinger—was amused. His sharp gaze scanned the room filled with photos plastered from wall to wall. Dozens of them. Every picture contained your smiling face, radiating warmth and joy.

It wasn’t unusual for Dottore to obsess over things that intrigued him—and you were one of them. But then his expression stiffened. You weren’t alone in these photos. Another figure stood beside you in each one, arms draped over your shoulder, fingers intertwined with yours. They smiled down at you like they owned you.

The corners of Dottore’s mouth twitched as irritation boiled beneath his skin.

How interesting… What kind of experiment is this?

5 Minutes in:

He stood there, silent, his gaze dragging across each photo in unnerving detail. At first, he tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his red, glinting eyes.

“Hm… Strange,” he muttered. “How perfectly inconvenient.”

Dottore chuckled, a sound both sharp and dangerous. “A foolish attempt to get under my skin, is that it? How quaint.” He tapped his gloved finger against his chin, observing the way your head leaned against the stranger’s shoulder in one image, your hand caught in theirs in another.

“Sloppy work… But I can’t deny, it’s convincing.” His voice dropped to a whisper, a smile still gracing his face. “I wonder if you’d let them touch you like this.”

The mask of indifference cracked for just a moment as something vile flickered in his gaze—something possessive.

1 Hour in:

He was still standing in the same spot, staring at the photos with an unsettling intensity. The small grin on his lips had twisted into a sneer.

“Did you think you could run from me?” His voice dripped with venom, though he directed it more toward the photos than you.

He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers impatiently against his bicep. “These are fake… They must be. You wouldn’t betray me. Not after everything.”

His heart pounded beneath the cold exterior, irritation morphing into something more dangerous—doubt. And he hated it.

Dottore pulled one of the photos off the wall, his hands tightening until the paper crumpled under his grasp. Why does it bother me? Why does this stranger in the photo seem more real with each passing second?

A low, bitter chuckle escaped him. “What a fascinating experiment,” he muttered to himself, though his eyes betrayed his growing frustration. “I wonder… how much longer until I break?”

3 Hours in:

Dottore’s breathing was uneven now, each exhale coming in short bursts.

The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls closing in as his mind spiraled. His hands tugged at the mask over his face, as if trying to stop the intrusive thoughts that gnawed at him. He muttered your name under his breath—again and again—like a mantra to keep himself sane.

“It isn’t real,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “It can’t be. You would never leave me… You wouldn’t.”

He dragged his gloved hands down his face, nails biting into his skin through the material. His grin was wide, teeth bared like a wolf, but his eyes were wild—unfocused.

“And if it were real…” His voice dipped into a low, dangerous hum. “Then I’ll simply… correct it. Remove the imperfection. Yes… I could fix it.”

He laughed quietly, the sound brittle and laced with mania. He would find a way to erase whoever thought they could take you from him. He was the only one worthy of having you. Not them.

Never them.

6+ Hours in:

By now, the Dottore standing in that room was a different creature entirely.

He sat in the corner, legs sprawled out as he gazed at the photos on the walls, his mask lying discarded beside him. His grin stretched too wide, teeth gleaming beneath the dim light, and his red eyes shimmered with twisted delight.

“It’s not real…” he whispered, as if trying to convince himself. “Not real. Not real. Not real.”

But even if it was a lie, Dottore didn’t care anymore. His obsession had consumed him whole, leaving no room for rational thought. He pressed a hand to one of the photos, tracing your image with unsettling tenderness.

“Mine,” he murmured, his voice soft but unwavering. “You are mine. You’ve always been mine.” His words felt like a promise—and a threat.

He sat still for a moment longer, before his smile widened. “Ah… but I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

He stood abruptly, brushing off his coat with a calmness that didn’t match the crazed look in his eyes. “We’ll have to fix this. You won’t need them when you have me.”

He tilted his head, as if imagining your face when you saw him next—saw the mess he would make to bring you back to his side. “I’ll erase this blemish… and you’ll love me. Like you always should have.”

The Aftermath:

When the door to the room finally creaked open, you barely had a second to react.

Dottore was on you instantly, his gloved hands grasping your arms with a firm but oddly gentle grip. His eyes shimmered with a mixture of glee and relief, the madness beneath them bubbling just below the surface.

“Ah, there you are,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “I knew you’d come back to me.” He pressed closer, ignoring the way your body stiffened under his touch.

Before you could say a word, his hands moved to cup your face, his smile a cruel mockery of affection. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Those photos… they don’t mean anything. They were a mistake—an… illusion.”

His laugh was soft, but it held an edge sharp enough to cut. “You won’t need anyone else. Not anymore.”

And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen into Dottore’s web.

There was no escape from him now—no way to free yourself from the twisted obsession that bound you to him. Because in his mind, you were his.

Forever.

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[crimxonwrites]

Blood-painted kisses | Aemond Targaryen x female!OC | Chapter 5 ❝Happy name day❞

☽➛ Summary: Nothing satietes Maehrys Velaryon's hunger as well as revenge. Growing up at the Red Keep as the bastard of Rhaenyra Targaryen did not come trouble-free. Her childhood consisted of bitter words and repulsive looks from nearly everybody in the castle. As she grew older, Maehrys grew meaner. Once the Velaryons return to King's Landing to defend Luke's claim as Lord of Driftmark, Maehrys decides that it is time for the people who hurt her in the past to pay.

☽➛ Warnings: swearing, bullying, mentions of blood, overall 18+!!!!

☽➛ Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x female!OC ( enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again?? romance is a subplot)

TW: vomit, mentions of suicide, AEMOND !!DISCLAIMER: English is not my first language! feel free to correct me at any time!

A/N: Two dragonless sisters, sitting on a ship

Masterlist

Chapter 6

I run as fast as I can. I picked up my book and made a run to my chambers, the wine’s effect wearing off. Alisha was there waiting for me, but I dismissed her quickly. I need to be alone.

My heart was still beating as fast as it did when I intertwined my lips with my uncle’s, and I sit in front of my vanity mirror. My hair is loose and scruffy, a few curls stuck to my temple. My eyes have heavy bags under them, and my palms are bruised. My gaze lingers on my lips; they are swollen and bloody.  Why did he kiss me? The question echoes in my mind, a haunting refrain. The intimacy of the moment feels wrong on so many levels, the boundaries of family and pride shattered in an instant. Why didn’t I stop him? My passivity feels like complicity, my inaction a betrayal of myself. Why did I like it? This question is the hardest to face, the one that fills me with the deepest sense of self-revulsion. The pleasure I felt, however fleeting, twists like a knife in my gut.

Why did I like it?

My stomach turns in pain and disgust, and I get up as fast as I can and walk over to my chamber pot. With one hand, I hold my hair and with the other, I hold my stomach as I spew all the wine and grapes that I had today. One moment, Aemond was telling me to make haste and find a husband before Alicent sends word for Rhaenyra to wed us, and in the next moment, he was kissing my lips with hunger. I throw up once more, the force of it making my knees buckle. Tears fall unchecked down my cheeks, hot and relentless. Each retch feels like a purging of the confusion and guilt that weigh so heavily on me. The room spins, my vision blurring with tears and the remnants of nausea. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, the taste of bile lingering.

When I am sure the contents of my stomach are all gone, I maniacally undress and get into the bath that Alisha prepared for me. I grab the sponge with a trembling hand, my grip tight and desperate. I plunge it into the water, soaking it thoroughly, and then I press it against my skin. I rub with a ferocity that borders on madness, scrubbing at my flesh as if I can erase the memory of what happened. But I cannot. We kissed. And I liked it. The sponge moves in harsh circles, my skin turning red under the relentless friction. I scrub until it hurts, but the physical pain is a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside me.

My breath hitches as I continue, tears mingling with the bathwater. The harder I scrub, the more I feel the sting of my actions, but I can't stop. The need to be clean, to be free of the lingering ghost of Aemond's touch, consumes me. The water turns murky with each pass of the sponge, but no amount of scrubbing can reach the stain that I feel inside.

Still nauseous, I manage to scrub myself clean. When I am done bathing, I decide that the vomit aftertaste is too much, so I chug a lot of water. My throat is burning, and my mind is still foggy. I cannot allow myself to think about that moment any longer, and I cannot allow myself to let it happen again.

When my mind finally quiets down, I fall asleep, body aching and spirit wounded.

-

“Happy name day, Maehrys!” Rhaena’s voice startles me.

We left King’s Landing a few hours ago, and it will not be long before we reach Dragonstone. Corlys insisted he send the biggest ship he has, even though Daemon and Jace took off on dragon back. My head aches like never before as I watch the ship cut through the dark blue sea.

“Why did I think the salty air would help with my aching head?” I ask Rhaena, and she frowns.

“Someone had too much to drink last night.” She teases, a smile forming on her face. “You had a merry night, I assume?” She asks.

“Yes.” I lie. “Though I cannot wait to return to Dragonstone.” I say, leaning over the hard wood of the ship. Above us, I hear Syrax’s and Vermax’s screeches.

“How are the eggs?” She asks, and I turn my gaze towards her.

When Aemond was ten and two, he stole Rhaena’s rightful dragon, leaving her dragonless to this day.  The act was a bold and unforgivable affront, a theft that cast a long shadow over her, robbing her not just of a dragon but of a birthright. Vhagar was Laena’s dragon before she died, and since Baela claimed Moondancer, it was only fair that Rhaena claims Vhagar. From time to time, she would ask me about my unhatched dragon eggs, her voice a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something more poignant. Each time, I am not sure if she wants to comfort me, or if she needs comfort herself.

“Still unhatched.” I answer, with a sigh. I can sense her inner turmoil, the way she clings to the hope that my dragon eggs might hatch, as if their success could somehow mend the wound left by Aemond’s betrayal.

“When we arrive to Dragonstone, I will try to claim Seasmoke.” Rhaena states.

Seasmoke has been riderless ever since Laenor, my father, died. Some nights, when the world is quiet and the darkness settles over the castle like a shroud, I hear Seasmoke’s growl echoing through the night air. It is a low, mournful sound, filled with a sorrow that mirrors my own. In his voice, I sense his solitude, a powerful creature left bereft and alone.

“I wish you luck, sister.”  I give her a reassuring smile, and she places her head on my shoulder.

We watch the horizon as the ship drifts towards Dragonstone, the world around us growing still and silent. Two dragonless Targaryens, bound by blood and loss���what a tragedy.

I spend the next few days trying to keep myself busy, to stave off the heavy thoughts plaguing my mind. I dive into studying High Valyrian, spending hours learning the language and its complicated rules. The focus it requires helps distract me from my worries. Moreover, I need to perfect my High Valyrian. I am doing this for myself, yes, but I am also doing it for the little girl I used to be, who dreamed of claiming the biggest dragon in the world.

I also train with my brothers, pushing myself hard in our practice sessions. Maybe pushing Jace a bit harder. I convince Daemon to train with us, and he surprisingly agreed. I study his technique and note how it is much more violent that Ser Criston’s. Daemon acts on impulse, on feeling, and he spares no strength when it comes to defeating us in combat. At the end of the day, I cannot go to sleep without a hot bath to soothe my aching muscles. The physical activity gives me a break from my thoughts and helps me feel stronger, as if I can control something in my life.

I make time to be with my pregnant mother, offering her support and company. We sometimes talk about my grandmother, Aemma, and how she died in childbirth, and I grow tired of seeing pain in my mother’s eyes. Our time together is soothing, and her presence reminds me of what’s important amidst all the confusion.

Despite all this, my mind often drifts back to Aemond and the kiss we shared. I think about his words and the urgency to find a husband quickly to avoid being married to him. This pressure weighs heavily on me.

I also comfort Rhaena, who failed to claim Seasmoke by changing the bandages on her shoulder. The dragon did a number, not only on her body, but on her soul as well.

In search of advice, I talk to Baela about what it’s like to be betrothed to a half-brother. I hope she can share her personal feelings and experiences. However, she mainly discusses the political aspects of such a marriage, focusing on alliances and strategic benefits. Her talk about politics only makes me feel more alone, leaving me with more questions and uncertainties about my own situation.

“Maehrys?” On a Sunday afternoon, I hear my mother’s voice echo in the library, cutting through the silence like a knife through butter. The smell of old parchment and ink fills the room, a familiar comfort.

“Yes, mother?” I close the High Valyrian book and dismiss the tutor who was helping me. His bow is deep, respectful, before he quietly exits the room, leaving us alone.

“I cannot help but notice how distracted you have been lately.” She sits at the table in front of me, her eyes searching mine. “Is something troubling you?” she asks, her voice softening as she holds my hand in hers.

I absolutely cannot tell her that what has been troubling me is Aemond, and the fact that we shared a kiss. A kiss that haunts me to this day, consuming my thoughts and dreams. “No…” I say, half-heartedly, my voice betraying me. She gives me the same comforting look she has given me all my childhood, a look filled with love and concern.

“Maehrys, my sweet child, I know you too well. There is a shadow upon your heart. Speak truthfully to me.” Her grip on my hand tightens slightly, urging me to open up.

“Yes,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper. “Will you marry me off to some lord soon?” My question catches her off guard, and she seems taken aback by my curiosity.

“Perhaps,” she answers after a pause, and my heart drops to my stomach. “But do not worry, there is no rush for betrothal now.” Rhaenyra continues, her thumb gently rubbing the scar on my left wrist, a scar from my sinister childhood that binds us even closer. A youth where I did not want to live any longer. “Why so curious about marriage all of a sudden?”

I cannot tell her that Alicent is planning to suggest I marry Aemond. The very thought makes my heart race with a mix of fear and longing. I point at her big belly; “I do not wish to bear children,” I tell her, the words coming out steadier than I feel. It is not considered lying if I do not tell the whole truth. “But if it is ever needed, I want you to know that I will not be against it.” I continue, my voice steady. “I promise.”

She sighs, a deep, weary sound. “The burden of women in our world is a heavy one, Maehrys. But know that you are not alone. Whatever the future holds, we will face it together.”

I nod, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on me. As she rises to leave, I feel a mix of relief and dread. The path ahead is uncertain, and the shadows of the past cling to me like a cloak.

“Rest now,” she says gently. “And remember, my dear, that you are loved beyond measure.”

As she exits the library, I am left with my thoughts, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. The memory of Aemond’s kiss lingers, a forbidden secret that binds me to a future I cannot yet see.

The very next day, I am awakened by the sound of alarmed voices between servants, handmaidens, and guards echoing through the stone corridors. The usually serene morning air is thick with tension and unease. I dress swiftly, with Alisha’s expert hands guiding me into my gown, her fingers trembling slightly as she fastens the intricate clasps.

“What is happening?” I ask, but Alisha only shakes her head, worry etched across her face.

I make my way to the council room, my heart pounding. The castle halls, usually bustling with activity, seem darker and more foreboding today. As I pass through the grand corridors, I catch sight of Meleys, Rhaenys’ dragon, flying in frantic circles above the palace, her growls echoing with a desperate urgency. The sight sends a shiver down my spine.

I reach the massive doors of the council room and push them open, stepping inside to hear Rhaenys’ voice ringing out. “-and the Queen Regent insists your father changed his mind on his deathbed.”

“What is happening?” I whisper to Jace, who stands nearby, his face pale and anxious.

“They crowned Aegon this morning,” my brother answers quickly, his voice trembling. The weight of his words sinks into me like a stone.

Luke joins us shortly, followed by Rhaena and Baela, their expressions mirroring the same shock and disbelief that I feel. My heart starts quickening its pace as I listen to Rhaenys’ words. How could they? My mother is the rightful heir to the crown. Aegon is just a drunk usurper.

Rhaenys continues, her voice steady but laced with anger. “The Queen Regent claims that King Viserys, in his final moments, wished for Aegon to take the throne. It is a blatant lie, a fabrication to seize power.”

My mother stands at the head of the table, her face a mask of controlled fury. “This cannot stand. We have the support of many houses. They will not accept Aegon as king,” she declares, her voice resolute.

“But what can we do?” Luke asks, his voice small and frightened. “They have already crowned him. The people... they might believe their lies.” He grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flash with determination. “We must rally our allies, make our position known. We will not be silent. We will not let them steal what is rightfully ours.”

As the council debates, plans forming and falling apart in rapid succession, I feel a surge of resolve. This is not just about a throne. It is about our family, our honour, and the future of the realm. Aegon may have a crown, but he will never have the loyalty of the true Targaryen blood. He does not have my mother’s expertise

Suddenly, I hear my mother groan in pain, and I know exactly what is happening; the labours of pregnancy. But it cannot be—it is too early. Fear grips my heart as I realize the potential danger she and the unborn child are in.

As Rhaenyra is carried away by her handmaidens, her face contorted in agony, I desperately want to follow, to be by her side, to offer comfort. But my mother dismisses me swiftly with a firm wave of her hand, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and determination. “Stay here,” she commands through gritted teeth, and I know better than to argue.

Defeated and filled with worry, I sit next to Rhaenys, who watches the scene with a solemn expression. Her presence is both a comfort and a reminder of the gravity of our situation.

“How did you manage to escape?” I ask, needing a distraction from the anguish I feel.

“I have a dragon,” Rhaenys says quickly, and her words cut like a dagger. The simplicity and power of her statement highlight the stark difference between us. Her eyes soften when she notices my hurt expression. “A war is about to begin,” she continues, and I nod, feeling the weight of the impending conflict settle over me.

“What stopped you from raining dragon fire upon them?” I ask, thinking about what I would do if I had a dragon at my command. The thought of vengeance, of justice delivered through fire and blood, is a tantalizing one.

Rhaenys sighs, her gaze distant as if seeing a past filled with similar choices. “I do not wish to start the war, Princess,” she answers. “Fire and blood bring destruction, not only to our enemies but to our own as well. There is a time for dragons, and there is a time for restraint.”

Her words linger in the air, a sobering reminder of the responsibilities that come with power. As I sit there, the sounds of my mother’s labours and Syrax’s growls echoing faintly through the walls, I realize that our path is fraught with difficult choices. The dragons we command are both our greatest strength and our greatest burden.

“I wish my eggs hatched.” I sigh, desperation lingering in my voice.

Rhaenys’ gaze meets mine, and I see a flicker of understanding. “You will have your time, Maehrys. But for now, we must be patient, even as the storm gathers around us.”

In that moment, I feel utterly powerless. The chaos around me, the fear in my mother’s eyes, and the weight of impending war all crash down upon me like a relentless storm. I do not know what to do, and I do not know how I can be of aid to my mother. I cannot comfort her through the agonizing labours of early childbirth, I cannot fly to King’s Landing and kill Aegon, I cannot do anything that would make a difference. My helplessness claws at me, a cruel reminder of my limitations.

Suddenly, I am eight years of age again, scared and anxious, lost in a world of uncertainty. I remember the nights I would wake from nightmares, seeking my mother’s embrace, her soothing words the only balm to my fears. Now, the roles are reversed, and I am the one who should be offering comfort and strength, but I feel just as frightened as I did then.

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, unwilling to show weakness in front of Rhaenys or anyone else. The hall feels colder, the shadows longer and more oppressive. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity, and the sound of my mother’s pained cries echoes hauntingly in my ears.

Rhaenys must sense my turmoil, for she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You are stronger than you know, Maehrys. Your presence alone is a comfort to your mother, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

I nod mechanically, but her words do little to alleviate the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I watch as the handmaidens hurry back and forth, their faces masks of grim determination. Every fiber of my being screams to do something, anything, but I remain rooted to the spot, paralyzed by my own inadequacy.

The memory of Aemond’s kiss flashes in my mind, a stark contrast to the present reality. The confusion of my feelings for him mingles with my anger and fear, creating a turbulent storm within me. How can I navigate these emotions when the world around me is falling apart? My breathing becomes manic, and I choke on the thick air.

“Breathe, Maehrys,” Rhaenys whispers, her voice cutting through the fog of my thoughts. “We will get through this. Your mother is strong, and so are you. The Targaryen blood runs hot and true in your veins.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it feels as if there is not enough air in the world. My chest tightens, and each breath becomes a struggle, as though an invisible force is squeezing the life out of me. My vision blurs, the edges of my sight darkening and narrowing as if I am peering through a tunnel. The sounds around me become distorted, and my mother’s cries are muffled by a high-pitched ringing that fills my ears, drowning out everything else.

Also read on: AO3

Taglist: @watermel0nsugarhigh @ondereleutheromania@literishdegree99

[donaweasley]

Sway With Me

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Plus-sized!Reader

Plot:

Time changes several things, including a person’s appearance. The reader was once fit and confident about her physique but recent changes in her lifestyle has made her bloated. Ashamed of her current body, she shuns away from Loki, and keeps him at bay whenever he tries to get close to her. That was until our Silvertongue decides to erase her insecurities once and for all.

Warnings: Body issues.

Read time: ~6 mins

Note: The song mentioned in the story is “For All You Give” by The Paper Kites.

~~~~~~

I wanna take you everywhere I go

Have you by my side

Take a walk round in every town

Drive across state lines

Like the sun sends a golden stream

Into our front room

I could be the same old light for you

~~~~~~

“Come on, dance with me,” Loki pulled her out of the couch and flush to his body.

“You mean ‘sway’ with me,” she giggled.

“Whatever you would like to call it,” he rested his cheek against hers.

“I love this song!” She hummed.

“So do I.”

The lyrics floated through the room, and rippled with the movements of the two bodies swaying to the whims of the accompanying music.

~~~~~~

Like the morning is always new

Give it back to you

Like the rain, it just passes through

For all you give

I'll give it back to you

~~~~~~

“You know I love you, right?” Loki murmured on the skin of her shoulder.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then why do you say things that hurt me?”

An exhausted sigh left her. She pulled herself away ever so slightly, just enough to be able to look into his green eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Loki. It’s true, isn’t it, that I don’t look as I used to. I don’t like this version of me.”

His eyes looked deep into her soul. There was a command in them, as a king would hold while addressing his subject. But it was softened by a reverence and an equally unparalleled love.

~~~~~~

I think about it like a man in need

Every time I'm gone

Wait to see you like a mile-long train

Is passing by your door

And my life is set around you now

Tangled up the same

And I'll be the one who calls your name

~~~~~~

“But I still love you,” Loki declared. “You. How you look has never mattered to me.” 

She raised a playful brow at the statement.

The trickster let out a soft laugh. “I mean, I love the way you look. Any time. In any form. You have always mesmerized me, love.”

“But I disappoint myself,” tears had begun to form at the corners of her eyes.

“Why do you let your looks define you?” Loki slipped a slender finger beneath her chin and held it up. “You are a queen! It is not your looks but your attitude and your work that should define you.”

“Easy for you to say, god!”

Loki sighed in defeat. There seemed to be no way he could convince her with his words.

“Come here.” He took her by the hand, and walked to their bedroom.

“Love, I get it. I get your point,” she chuckled, assuming Loki’s “intentions”.

“No, you do not. You say that you have understood, and then I see you hating yourself all over again. Were you not the one who had taught me to love myself no matter what the world says? Were you not the one to tell me to look past my faults, and find the light inside? I did. And I found you. I found us!”

“I still love myself,” she tried to reason, “I just...it’s this mirror that I don’t like.”

“And this is exactly the reason why I need you to look at it.”

Loki positioned them to stand in front of the mirror, with her facing it while he stood behind her.

“What do you see?” He asked her reflection.

“A gorgeous god with a bag of fat,” she laughed, knowing the reaction she’d receive from him.

“You know what I see?”

“A humble god with a ravishing woman?” She jested.

“Partially correct. The woman is ravishing, yes. But the god is gorgeous, too.”

“Narcissist!” She smacked his arm playfully.

“What? One should always appreciate oneself! You are the one who has taught me that.”

“Hmm,” she hummed in agreement, letting a stubborn smile take over her features.

“But I also see a gracious amount of soft skin hidden behind this ugly piece of cloth,” Loki pulled at her t-shirt.

“Don’t you call my baggy tee ugly, mister!” She laughed.

“Shut up. It is ugly because it does not allow me to feel the warmth of your skin. Do you have any idea how much your touch soothes me? How I crave for your skin...any part of it whenever I am feeling anxious?”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Then? I see this ugly thing again, not hugging but clumsily falling over your beautiful, curvy waist,” his hands gently squeezed her waist. “You know how much I love these curves of yours. But did you know that now there is a lot more room for me to dig my fingers into as I make love to you?”

The way he was purring into her ears, and the manner in which his long fingers were slowly gripping her, made her giggle and squirm.

“Ticklish...just the way I like it. See, you do not even allow me to tickle you anymore.”

The more she wiggled under his hold, the more he continued his mischief. Their laughter filled the room until she was panting and begging him to stop.

He kissed her neck before speaking, “And these?”

His palms had now snaked up her body, stopping only when they came to rest on her breasts.

“Do you have any, any idea how much I love these?”

“I guess, I do,” she replied through ragged breaths. Either his hands were exuding magic or she must have lost her senses during the whole tickle-fight, she thought.

“No, you do not,” he breathed in her ear. Yes, it was him and not her, she was sure now.

“If you knew,” his mouth continued with the words while his hands continued with something else, “you would not have left me craving for days.”

“(Y/N)?” He turned her around to face him, “Why are you depriving me of things that I love? Things that I need for survival? I need you. All of you - the good and the bad. Although there is nothing ‘bad’ about your body but only about the way you look at it. Look at yourself the way I look at you. And then you shall see what a marvellous creation you are!”

A tear ran down her cheek. Wiping it off, she tried to laugh but almost choked on her emotions. “I still don’t understand how you can love me so much. You, a god!”

“I am,” Loki kissed her face, “but a simple man with a heart that beats for you. And yes, the most charming man in the entire universe!”

His mischievous smirk made her laugh. Loki stole the moment to pull her flush to him.

“You are my queen,” he ran a hand over her head and down her neck, “my angel. You are…the most beautiful creation that can ever exist. And never ever will you doubt yourself.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Or else I shall punish you.”

A pleasant shiver ran up her spine. “Is that a threat from a god?” She whispered back.

“It is a promise from a god,” his breath warmed the shell of her ear, “and a god always keeps his promise.”

***

Taglist:

@huntress-artemiss @evelyn-kingsley@dryyoursaltyoceantears@modestlyabsurd

[killcodesashes]

[QUICK RANT ABOUT QUEER REPRESENTATION IN TSAMS/TSBS SHOWS]

[As a genderfluid aroace person myself.]

TSAMS

Uh. I don't like it. Aroace Moon? Cool. Absolutely valid, we love him for that. Wasn't adressed much except in a few episodes which are pretty good, I liked the one where he rejects Foxy a lot!

But recently- g e e z. I understand wanting to bait people in with ships people want! Specifically KidsCove. Same in tmgafs! But the problem is that they do it not just to tease/mess around with the viewers in good fun, they genuinely seem to hate the shippers and actually want to make fun of them? Not just with kidscove but with any other ship that isn't canon. They don't even want to confirm Sun's sexuality, just constantly making it a gag that he has a bisexual flag in his room. Which as a queer person? It's just annoying. Just really annoying ? Please all we want is a confirmation or something? We want queer characters we can actually relate to. And we don't really get that :( Then New Moon came along and said it was possible he wasn't aroace. . . And then they never mentioned it again. So why mention it in the first place ? I don't think I would've minded it if he had just changed how much attraction he felt but was STILL aroace/on the aroace spectrum. As long as it was actually clarified. But they seemed eager to rush to his evil era so they didn't bother to close to any lose ends before hand, though I guess being aroace might've just not been as relevant.

On a bit of a side note- Ruin feels very gay coded. Very gay. There is no way he's straight T.T he's a villain but he's a zesty man and we absolutely adore him for that!!

That was probably an accident, though. Every theatre kid seems gay! /lhj

Just overall upsets me that the VAs seem to act offended by the mere idea of shipping characters? As if that's not a common/vital part of every fandom.

[OTHER SHOWS UNDER THE CUT]

TMGAFS

Upsets me that they can't clarify Puppets identity or pronouns? [Or maybe they have recently but I genuinely doubt it]

Because who are they meant to actually represent ?? It's probably just me but I wish it was more clear or something. I appreciate the VA for trying I do though, absolutely love that guy[Foxy’s VA, genuinely seems to just be a chill guy. And I think it's really cool that he actually does roles that could come off very cringe, voicing most of the cringe dimension characters +struggling with Puppets voice for the longest time.] I just wanna know if Puppet is a trans fem queen or trans masc slay or just trans ? But nothing seems to be clarified.

Again with KidsCove? Genuinely just annoying how they blatantly just do it to make fun of the people who ship them and get views from them.

Foxy seemed to have been gay before his memory loss. Or was at the very least interested in men to an extent. But since he began to be the main character of a show he suddenly only likes women?? S u s. They really keep insisting he's extremely straight and genuinely just annoys me that they erased him being interested in men [Proved he liked men in the episode he asked Moon out.]

. . .now. . . M o n t y. As a genderfluid person? I hate them and literally feel more represented and seen by cis characters from other shows. For the longest time Monty being genderfluid wasn't even adressed and was usually just brought up for plot reasons or something? And it pissed me of that every time they correct a character on Monty's pronouns.. they immediately go back to using he/him pronouns. I think the new fem body is pretty neat! Though I think it would've been more interesting for Monty to stay masc but ACTUALLY get their right pronouns used and their identity getting genuinely respected DESPITE of their appearance. But the body? It's genuinely completely fine! /gen I used to hate my body too and understand that the writers might've thought it might be easier for people if they just used a different body completely! But it annoys me that my gender representation comes in the form of M o n t y. The annoying character known for constantly hating on others and partially destroying their lives. Anyone can be genderfluid, yes. But when the representation is so little? I just wish it was at least a bit better or with a less hateable character.

TLAES

Lunar! Uh. Again can we just get clarification on his sexuality? Is he polyamorous? Bisexual? Omnisexual? Just any clarification please?

Gemini! I wish they were canon nonbinary. They're literally stars. Why did they have to be gendereddd. Also curious about their 'sexuality'? Will also likely never get clarification on it :/

OTHER SHOWS/SIDE NOTES

Roxanne is canon lesbian and so is Glamrock Chica! I'm so sorry but I forgot his name T~T I think it was Tiger Rock[??] Is also canonically gay! Glam Chica has a girlfriend! And I do think their relationship is pretty cute [from what I've seen] and overall wish I would finally get to watching the show a bit more! Funtime Foxy feels very queer to me? Not just because his design is pink but his overall characterization! He does have a girlfriend! But he seems to be comfortable in his own identity and presentation from what I've seen? At least, it seems to be more comfortable than some o t h e r characters. I feel more represented by Funtime Foxy and Lolbit than I ever felt represented by Monty. But that is a personal opinion!

I overall have just lost interest in all of the shows. I'm tired of being constantly disappointed and lead on. But I do wish I could watch more of the other shows since they seem to show more love and care towards their characters :)

CLOSING THOUGHTS!

It's just shows. Does any of this really matter? I think it matters when the shows are claiming to have good representation when they really don't. And they're allowing people who aren't queer/a part of the LGBTQIA+ community to feel like they have the right to shut real queer people down. I've seen so much acephobia and overall homophobia even in this community. A l o t in this community. I wish the writers would listen to ACTUAL QUEER PEOPLE!! I wish the VIEWERS listened to ACTUAL QUEER PEOPLE.

That's what I really want. I just want to be heard and represented.

I don't claim this community. I CAN'T claim a community who is constantly against us.

LISTEN TO QUEER VOICES.

[soracities]

how do you cope with knowing that you gave your whole heart to someone for so many years and they chose someone else? i loved her for over ten years and we were together for four of those years but she's getting married in two weeks. i don't know how to forgive myself for loving her so much and i don't know what to do with all the love that's left.

i don't believe you need to forgive yourself for giving love to another person. giving love isn't a wrong you need to correct, and it implies the relationship you once had was never worth anything to begin with, which is deeply unfair to both of you and disregards the reality and sincerity of the love you did feel when you were together. i don't think you need to recall the love you gave, i think you need to look at why you believe being the honest version of yourself was the wrong thing to do: why do you need to forgive yourself for being you? why do you need to scrub yourself of your past to be worthy of a future moving forwards? why do you think the only version of yourself worthy of anything is the one you were with her and cannot be without her, with someone else?

at the end of the day, love isn't bookeeping. it's not a tally of incoming and outgoing expenses, or a series of investments you need to account for and justify based on if x was a bad transaction or y turned a nice profit etc. you respond, at any given moment, in any given relationship, with the love you have at that point, with the way you know how to give it at that point. sometimes this will allign with whomever you're with; sometimes what they need and what you can give, what you need and what they can give, will be one and the same and feed and nourish the other. and sometimes it won't--but that doesn't mean it's a moral failing on your part as a human being. sometimes, things simply will not fit any longer and i think it is vitally important for you to realise that someone who cannot reciprocate your feelings or the extent of them is, ultimately, not the person for you no matter how deeply you felt (or still feel) they were The One. that feeling has to be mutual to be true, and you haven't failed at being a person if it isn't.

heartbreak is different for everyone and there is no set timeline for moving on from somebody--all the love that's left over requires different outlets for different people so i don't know of any surefire way of dealing with it. but i do believe you won't find the outlet that you most need as long as you keep holding on to what you lost and all the ways you think you failed, or weren't good enough or the litany of if onlys that promise an alternate ending if only you'd done or been different. you cannot will yourself into a different ending for a past that has already happened, and no amount of keeping that past on life support will change this. all that love that remains is painful because it has nowhere to go, but the person you love isn't the only place it was ever destined for, either--i think love is receptive and dynamic and has a capacity to bloom into countles different things if you let it. but it cannot do this unless you begin to loosen your grip on it and allow yourself to find something other than loss or a condemnation of your entire being in it; otherwise it will continue to have nowhere to go and in the meantime only grow heavier and heavier. but once you let go of what was and what you wish had been, what you had finally takes different forms as a result of that new freedom--it becomes new awarenesses or new lessons or opens up new paths and understandings for yourself. it becomes knowledge, becomes tools, becomes something you can actually use in your life going forward to shape it in a more fulfilling and healthier way for yourself: but you have to let go for that change and learning to take place, without seeking to erase it or shame yourself for it not turning out the way you wanted.

clichéd as it sounds at this point, the only thing i really hold to, in anything, is that all rejection is redirection. and if you are able to love and give so boundlessly to someone who ultimately wasn't the right fit for you, then allow yourself to imagine how much and how vibrantly you can give to the person who is the right fit. what will your life look like when you allow yourself the opportunity to find the right pair of hands for that love? what will your life look like when you give that love back to yourself? when you let go of what isn't and cannot be and let new air into those old, locked rooms? when you stop trying to shame yourself for your care and your generosity? painful as it is, you won't be able to clear any space forward for yourself as long as you hold on to whatever you feel you lost: you can't go back to the relationship you had with her and for as long as you keep revisiting it you're only digging a deeper and more painful hole for yourself that will be harder to get out of in the end: you will remain stuck, while everyone else moves forward, and that will make you feel even more hopelessly stuck and the cycle repeats.

i'm not saying it's easy; it will be unspeakably painful to fully accept and admit that this is, truly, over and turn your back on what has been, i'm sure, a formative part of your life. but you can't grow there--you won't grow there, anon. and if you want a way forward for yourself, you have to go all the way through it. it sucks. it's not fair. but condemning any and all of your future happiness for a situation you can't change is not fair, either: you won't earn anything for this suffering except more suffering. and you need to realise this

so if pain in this process is inevitable, you may as well choose the pain that will get you somewhere. if she's moving on, you owe it to yourself--for your own sake, no one else's--to do so too.

i don't know if any of this helps, but please know i'm sending you love and rooting for you that the journey through this will lead you to a healthier, happier, and more fulfilling place, anon.

[miseta]

Chapitre 4 ➺ Hell Clasico

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players?

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking

4K words

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"You don’t come after training because we’re still grounded ?" 

Misa’s text made my heart lifted. With the Clasico and games abroad coming, I had a huge amount of work that was keeping me out of the stadium. I had shut myself in my office for three days now, importing, retouching photos, thinking about the next games’s visuals… Due to the fact that resisting the goalkeeper was becoming more and more difficult, I had to admit I was relieved to be able to avoid her.

I thought a moment about what to answer. As soon as she had stood up from that bench on the evening at the park, Misa had been her funny self again. She had joked happily. We had said goodbye at the entrance of the parking. Like friends do. If she had been disappointed, she had been hiding it well. 

And now she was texting about me for not coming to our photo meeting in a casual yet flirty way again…

"Feels like I’m the grounded one… work is having me trapped in my office!" I texted back.

"👉🤓" 

"🫠👋"

She started typing and stopped. Her text bubble didn’t reappeared. I sighted. I hated having to be distant with her. I sighted again and buried myself back into work. 

Fifteen minutes later, loud erratic knocks boomed against the door of my office.  "What…?". Without waiting, Misa, Hayley and Sofie burst into the room. "Here she is ! You believed to could get rid of us that easy Nicky?" Hayley asked while the three girls came around my desk. Misa had bring a ball and severals biscuits with her. "What are doing here?!" I said already annoyed. I had a feeling they weren’t here to help me… 

"We’re checking if you’re still Nicky and not a robot." Misa dropped the biscuits on my desk and started to play with her ball, making it rebound between her foot and thigh. Sofie was leaning toward my computer’s screen. "Do you have new photos of me?". Hayley was observing my cameras under every angles. "I’ve never seen this one, would you recommend it Nicky?" The dull sound of the ball rebounding rhythmically was constantly filling the room. I wasn’t believing how fast they had created such a mess.   

"Guys, a girl needs to focus right now!" I said, eyes closed, a hand on my forehead. "Oh, you can keep working, don’t mind us." Hayley had taken a camera and was back at taking pictures. Sofie joined Misa and they went passing each other the ball. There was no way I was going to be able to concentrate in this chaos. 

Edit just ten more photos tonight. I said to myself. I grabbed back my pencil and graphic tab, opened a photo of Olga striking, and started to erase an unwanted grass twigs on one of her socks.

On the corner of my eye, I saw Misa’s face approaching the screen while chewing a mouthful of biscuits. "What’s this? Are you drawing?" She pointed at my tablet. The sound of the ball was still resounding, Sofie had taken over. A few crumbles fell off the goalkeeper’s mouth. "Misa! The keyboard !" I blowed hard on it to make them go away. "Perdòn!" She stood back and tried to swallow her snack. She gestured to me to explain again.

That girl can be such a pain !

"No, I can’t draw, I’m just correcting details. A pen is more precise that a mouse". I said to her.

"Oh vale ! Can I try It ?" I glared at her. "I mean not now! When you have the time. And… I can teach you football in exchange". She ended up showing an innocent smile.

That girl will drive me mad! 

"Misa! Leave Nicky alone and come to my IG Live, the fans wants to see you !" Sofie called from the farthest corner.

"Coming! Nicky, take a biscuit, son muy buenos!"

They kept going like this until they were forced to leave with me. I had painfully managed to do half the work I wanted to be over. Tomorrow is another day, they say. 

***

Alas, next day was just the same. They came after their practice and occupied themselves more loudly than ever until my boss finally came to have them go away. With all of that, it was miracle I had finished everything at a rather early time on the eve of the Clasico. That meant I could attend the motivation speech that followed today’s training session.  

Sitting in the stands, the speech wasn’t captivating after all. Maybe I hadn’t enough knowledge of football to really get it but I found it lasting forever. The players weren't into it either. Olga’s legs were showing signs of impatience. Linda was slowly drifting. But despite my tiredness, I wanted to check on Misa and Hayley, so I kept waiting. 

I caught them at the building exit. I could sensed their nervousness behind the frank smiles they both gave me as a greeting. 

"Hey Nicky, great speech eh..?" Hayley hugged me, she was so tensed. "Thanks for waiting but I need go home. I’m off, girls, see you tomorrow !" Misa patted her shoulder as she left and she roughly brushed her hair in return. 

I turned to the goalkeeper. "How are you coping?" I asked her gently. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Estoy bien…", she answered peering down, her foot kicking at the floor vainly. She obviously wasn’t. 

"Do you want to walk ?" I said without any back thoughts. I just wanted to help my friend to feel a bit better. She nodded. 

We went touring the sport campus. We tried to talked about anything but the Clasico. At first, Misa was jumping in place every now and then to get rid of her stress. She relaxed when we started to tease each other. 

"Misa, you can’t be with a ball without showing off! That’s insane!". 

She smirked. "I’m athlete Nicky! Football is my life, of course I play with my ball all the time". She side glance at me, her mischievous tone and satisfied smile back. "I did 65 rebounds yesterday." 

I giggled "Is that much ?". Misa’s both disappointed and irritated air had me laughing out loud. 

She slapped me on the arm "Jajaja, muy divertido! Enhorabuena Nicky! I don’t care about what a girl who work al Real Madrid and knows nothing about football thinks!" 

It was my turn to faint annoyance. "I see trainer Misa is long gone before she even started… you are a very reliable person." She opened her mouth but was out of answer. I had had her sulking again. Grumpy Misa was one of my favorite. 

I took a pleading look. "All right, you are the best Misa! Now, when do we start training ?" I was sure the training part would lift her spirit. 

She side-eyed me again, still vexed. "Have you at least ever play football ?". 

I pretended to search my mind. "It happened... twice maybe. First was at school, and second on the alley in front of my parent’s house". 

She snorted. "No es posible…" She shook her head and continued, her voice suddenly curious. "For real, why did you want to work for a football club?" Her mocking tone gone had me really wonder how much I wanted to tell. 

"I needed a change in my life. Anything was… not going well. I had a rough break up and was really unhappy in my previous job…"

"I’m sorry to hear that" she said with a concerned look. 

I half laughed half sighted. "It’s ok now. I’m glad to be here. I really like Madrid". We were reaching the exit of the building again. 

"Bueno… and do you like your new job too ?" 

"Yes, I’m quite found of it… and of my new exasperating friends" I went back teasing her a little as we headed to the parking. 

"I’m happy you’re good with us", she said, not reacting on the teasing part this time. 

We arrived in the middle of the car park. I didn’t know if we were going in the same direction so I gestured on the right  "I’m parked this way". 

"I’m parked over here but I’ll go with you to your car, I can do with walking a bit more " she replied although she sounded far less stressed now. 

We reached my vehicle and faced each other to say goodbye. "Thanks Nicky" Misa softy spoke. Her features were less drawn. The walk had soothed her a little. 

"You’re looking better. Are you sure you’re ready to go home ?" I inquired one last time. 

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Instead she simply smiled and looked away. "Misa?" I frowned not knowing how to help her anymore. 

Her head turned back to me. She bit her lip and her eyes stopped on mine. Then she slowly moved forward. My brows went up, having me frozen in a surprised look as she took my hands in hers, and I knew that that was it, that there’s was no escaping this time, and that I didn’t gave a fuck.

I half closed my eyes, my head slightly bowed while she leant over. My gaze stayed on her quivering mouth as she approached mine. At last, she pressed her lips. I let out a short breath. I was surprise by the tenderness of her kiss. Her mouth was soft, its movements slow.

I kissed her back. Letting relief fill me up. Completely abandoning myself as her taste and scent washed over me. Our noses brushed against each other. The grip of our hands tighten as we went on kissing, softly still, slowly still. 

Finally, she withdrew her lips from mine, a soft smile lingering on them, having me missing their contact immediately. My eyes couldn’t leave hers. 

"I’m ready now" she whispered. I exhale and shyly smiled and she released my hands. "Good night Nicky ». She stepped back and turned over. My gaze followed her until she disappeared behind the birch trees growing between the parking spaces. 

***

Aitana Bonmati was running fast, dribbling everyone coming for her. She armed her strike and shoot between Ivana and Olga toward the penalty area. The ball landed right on Salma precise foot who immediately kicked hard at the upper left corner of the goal. Misa jumped with all her strength and the tip of gloves deflated the ball, preventing Barcelona to strike once again. 

The match had been hard and demanding from the very beginning. Barça team had been pressing Real Madrid players, having them constantly cornered near their penalty area. Misa had already saved five goals but as Mariona Caldentey had outpasted all the defenders for the third time and send a particularly well aimed kick to Caroline Graham Hansen, the goalkeeper had gone on the wrong direction and the ball had rolled easily in the cage. Misa had sweared, gotten up, and send a long clearance skillfully recovered by Hayley. Hayley was a fast runner too. She had passed the ball to Athenea, who had dribble passed Irene Paredes and used the one second of disorganization to find Linda. The kick from Linda’s head had miraculously flied through the expert gloves of Cata Coll, and crashed on the net behind her, filling the stadium with unexpected joy. 

Returning from the halftime, Barça had pressed harder and harder without succeeding at scoring yet an other goal. After a clever discussion in locker room during the break, the real Madrid was holding well against them for the first time, Misa’s many saves putting and end to theirs brilliant sequences of passes. And the unbelievable had happened at de 78th min. Naomie had succeeded at loosing Alexia Putellas’marker to get the ball from Oihane’s throw-in. Her quick arched shot had found Olga on the left side, who had managed a shot worthy of the World Cup. She had stricken from her rather distant position straight at the right upper corner, giving Cata Coll an impossible job. The stadium had burst screaming, echoing Madrid players all hugging together to celebrate their first time ever leading Barcelona. 

It was extra time when Misa’s body crashed on the grass again from saving Salma’s strike. The Madrid player were back at having a hard time. I could see they were physically drained, their feet barely touching the ball anymore. 

They all took position, ready for the corner, Misa giving directions to her teammates as she prepared herself for the upcoming action. Salma struck. She crossed the ball back from the goal line. The ball descended on Alexia in a perfect neat curve before she sent it crashing to the net. Barcelona had come up to the score, victory slipping through the Madrid girls'fingers at the 95th minute. Now, the match was going extra time. I saw Misa down in her attempt to save to ball, kicking the grass with her fists in frustration. As well trained as they were, the team was exhausted. With Barça clearly dominating, the extra time was going to be a living hell. 

Misa passed by me as she exit the tunnel to ran toward her goal after the short break. I took a shot of her face, a mix of deep concentration and extreme fatigue. My heart sank. I had been covering the match with other photographers from the start, trying hard to focus on my job rather than on the ongoing actions and the increasing pressure on Misa. 

The game resumed. Madrid team formed two compact lines in front of the goal. They had received new guidelines: keep on defending and don’t take another goal at all cost. Their strategy, and Ivana’s agile foot prevented a new shot on target finding the net. The only two more attempts of Madrid met Cata’s gloves, her clearance sending the ball back on their half pitch again. But, they hold on again and again the entire the first half of extra time.

During the second, fouls and cramps multiplied on each sides, chopping the play in numerous sloppy actions and hardening the footballer’s job by giving them unnecessary minor injuries. Misa’s attempt to grab a shot by Mariona sent her rolling on ground and her knee hit the goal-post. The ball luckily found the cross-bar and was quickly cleared by Kathellen. But Misa was still down, grasping her knee between the puffy fingers of her gloves. I shuddered. No please! Let not it be a serious injury! I silently prayed. The medical staff came over after the referee had blown the whistle. With several of her teammates surrounding, I could barely see what was going on. 

I waited, trying to breathe properly, not looking at the last picture I took of Misa, curled up on the grass, her features distorted by pain. After what was feeling like an hour, the med staff went away and the small crowd scattered, revealing Misa standing on her feet again, though she was breathing hard and slightly limping. I relaxed a little.

The goalkeeper settled back in front of her caged but she gave the ball to Ivana for her to do a long clearance. She clearly hadn’t the strength anymore. The ball was back in her penalty area in a heartbeat but the match had Madrid finally find the key to put up a very strong defence. When the whistle blew again, it was to put an end to the game at last. 

The penalty shoot out would decide the winner of the Copa de la Reina. More than ever, the outcome of the match was now resting mostly on Misa’s shoulders.

The goalkeeper and the rest of the team gathered around the trainer near the bench. I crossed eyes with Misa and I smiled, my fist clenched up in the air to show her my support. She didn’t seemed to see me. Nothing exists apart from the game when she was playing. 

Madrid opened the shoot out with Olga. She shot, scored. Cheers burst. 

Misa jumped on her line. Caroline Graham Hansen scored as well. 

Claudia kicked hard on her right but Cata had understand where she was aiming. Her body blocked the ball, having Barça yelling in triumph. 

Aitana scored. 

Athenea scored. 

Mariona scored.

Hayley scored.

Last ball. All was resting on Misa. If she failed the ball, everything was over. 

Alexia armed her leg. Kicked. The ball flew on the opposite of the goalkeeper. 

It was it. Madrid had lost. I forgot to take pictures, focusing on the limp body of Misa still laying on her back, her gloves on her face. As the Barcelona players hugged together in victory, the sturdy figure of Alexia was crouched at Misa side, muttering to her words I could not hear. She heaved Misa to her feet, helped her taking off her gloves. I could see her face wet with tears, her eyes puffed and closed as she was still sobbing. They leaved the pitch, Alexia’s arm over Misa’s shoulders. One of other photograph was shooting restlessly at them while they headed toward the tunnel. I couldn’t suppress a surge of anger. 

I got up, quickly took the steps that separated me from the man with the camera. 

"Give her a rest ok ?!" I shouted in his direction. The man stared blankly at me, astonished. In addition to my strange behavior, he probably wasn’t speaking English. 

Noticing my action, Misa and Alexia had stopped. When she saw me close, Misa lowered her head as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. Alexia stared kindly at me, guilt still her eyes as she knew she had partly caused the sadness of her friend. 

"I can take her to the locker room if you want" I said, instantly shocked by my own words when I couldn’t leave my job. 

Misa lifted her face again. Alexia looked at the goalkeeper to see if she was ok with that. Misa nodded and I took over Alexia to guide her through the tunnel. 

I made Misa sat on the farthest bench of the locker room. Everything was quiet here, the screeches of the celebration only a distant echo. The goalkeeper had stopped crying. Her board shoulders and muscular body seemed so fragile somehow. I took a seat beside her, not knowing what to do now it was up to me to comfort her. 

"I’m sorry" I simply said.

"We were so close!" she cried. "Let’s just go! I don’t want to be there, I don’t want the puta silver medal again!" She blown her nose hard and rubbed her red eyes with a towel laying by. Exhaustion was oosing from her at every levels. 

"No Misa you can’t go" I responded and caught a surprised side eye, as surprise as she could be in her current state. "You can’t go because everything’s not about wining or being better or best ! You can’t go because football doesn’t have to be that. It’s not about the score, the cup or whatever. Football is an emotion, a battle, a shared experience. And first and foremost it’s a spectacle and you put on one hell of a show as a team and as a player tonight! If you go, nothing remain, it would mean nothing. You have to go back Misa." 

Silence settled between us. I felt exposed and embarrassed by the words I had just spoken. It was ridiculous, saying obvious things like that to a seasoned footballer when I was barely discovering the sport. 

The goalkeeper exalted deeply. "You lied to me" she said, gotten me confused. She chuckled softy "You acted like you didn’t know a thing about football". She painfully stood up and waved me to do the same. "But you do" she said smiling as we faced each other. The tall woman pulled me into a hug, her head resting on my shoulder and I hold her tight against me. I gently stroked her back, her jersey was wet and she was clearly stinking of sweat but I didn’t care. I just wanted us to stay like this, clump together.

After a minute or so, we parted and smiled softy at each other. In spite of her weariness, Misa was looking less drained. She was waiting for... something while expectantly looking at me. Her dimples back with her grin enlighten her tired face. I kept smiling, my mind racing to figure out what I should do, what I could do… what I wanted do to. When she thought I wouldn’t do anything, Misa’s smile faded a little and she started to turn around. 

"Misa, wait…" I grabbed her arm and pulled her back against me. I only took a glimpse of her surprised yet eager face before I kissed her.

I grasped her face, pressed her mouth harder against mine. Misa let out a whine, the sound of it had my body set afire. I slowly made her step back until she hit the lockers room’s door. She gasped at the contact, put one of her hand in my hair, the other gripping the fabric of the bottom of my shirt. She opened her lips, her taste filled me up entirely and had me moan with want.

Our heated kiss had enlighten all my senses and turned my body into white iron. I felt my hand acting on her own as it went under Misa’s jersey and up her abs. She wimped again, her own fingers going under my shirt and touching the skin of my waist. Her soft and full lips were enveloping my mouth, our breathings had become jerky.

Fevered by my desire of her, I led my hand down her stomach to the strap of her shorts. She groaned and froze. "Wow! Nicky wait…" I stopped neat. She took her hands off my back and gently seized my face. "I have to go back" she said, a burning gaze on me. I breathed, trying to tame the flames devouring my insides. I smiled and repeated, "You have to go back". She placed a last kiss on my lips and got off the room.

Right now, Hell Clasico was finishing on a heavenly note.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks

[lesbiamano]

Hello hi I hope and pray you don't mind asks but YOUR POST ABOUT SUMIRE IS SO CORRECT while maruki is one of my favs because of how fucked up and well written he is, I hate what he did to Sumire KEEP YOUR DELUSION TO YOURSELF!!! bitch

Anyway that aside. The game did NOT treat Sumire right at all, I second you on that. She should've had time to be upset, to be unwell, to fucking beat Maruki's ass by herself instead of it being joker I think also. Atlus just wanted to insert a new Waifu into the game and completely fumbled the bag just to make her palatable to their male audience.

I could 100% go on but I'm blanking on words, I'm really passionate about her and I try appreciating the parts of her that we Did get but. Atlus learn to write women for a reason other than to be a love interest or advertisement challenge (failed)

YESS I AGREE. also something that forever bugs me is the way sumire reverts back to being “kasumi” after a certain point, and just having her basically be kasumi in the ending cutscene. what was the point of even having her put her hair down and start wearing glasses to show that she was no longer acting as someone else if you were going to erase all that development for the sake of the image the game’s “waifu” put up for most of the story,,, like i know she already had a big role in 3rd sem but it truly did not feel enough for her

i would rant about marukis treatment of her here but we all know i can’t control myself when it comes to hating on him so i’ll just leave that up for your imagination. but anyway, yea. there’s so much i can say but unfortunately everytime i sit down to write abt it i start blanking too😭😭atlus give us more well written female characters pls. sumire could’ve been SO GOOD

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for being bitter at my family for keeping their dog that doesn't like me, and for being glad when they had to get rid of the dog?

so i (adult m) live in a small 3bed/2bath home with my family: mom (f40s), dad (m40s), nana (f60s), and my sisters (f17, f12). i was homeless for a while and moved in with them in dec 2019/jan 2020. they had two dogs that they loved for a long time, both dogs had passed years before i moved in. from what i've heard, the dogs were beloved members of the family and their deaths, while expected (because of old age and health issues), were devastating.

our house is small, but i don't really have an issue with that. i spend nearly 100% of my time inside the house because of a surgery i had a while back, and i'm content to nap and watch TV and socialize with my family all day. i require a lot of care and special attention and i'm unable to hold a job (would rather not go into detail), and while occasionally my family will leave me home by myself for a few days for a vacation, this is pretty rare and i'm overall satisfied with the care they are able to provide me. i'd say my life is pretty good.

or it was.

in the last couple of years it has been increasingly obvious that my family (with the exception of my nana) miss having a dog around. they would occasionally talk about a dog up for adoption they saw online, or a friend who was having puppies and how it would be so cool to get a puppy, or looking at videos of dogs and reminiscing about their old dogs and talking about how nice it would be to get a dog. this didn't bother me in and of itself, because it had been happening for a while and they never actually followed through.

... until early last month, when they came home with a dog. this came from out of nowhere (they stopped on the way home from the shelter to buy dog supplies, like food and bowls, toys, etc). no one had told me about this or asked me what i thought, so i was surprised and confused when they brought a strange dog into the home. according to them, they are "fostering" this dog for a few months while she undergoes treatment for a health condition (after which she will be eligible for adoption), but her behavior towards me has erased any sympathy i might have felt for her.

this dog is big (she's almost certainly stronger than i am), unruly, untrained, and she does not like me. i've been avoiding her because her extreme level of energy unnerves me, but every time she sees me she growls at me and tries to lunge or snap at me like i'm the one invading her territory and not the other way around. i have voiced my fears and my strong dislike at having this dog in the house, but i don't think my family really understands what i'm saying.

after a few days, it became clear that allowing the both of us to be in the same room would lead to injury. this was further cemented after an incident where i was sitting on the couch with my mom and my sister came in from walking the dog and the dog lunged at me and i accidentally gave my mom a minor injury in my panic. so my family has decided that the best course of action, until they have time to condition her to my presence, is for me to stay in my room indefinitely.

practically, the space is big enough for me—i don't need much, and i'm not super physically active, the only thing i can't do in here that i can do in the common areas is watch tv—but it's frustrating being confined to a single room in my own home, where i've lived for years, while this dog is granted open access to the rest of the house. my family promised it would be temporary, that they just have to work on training her and correcting her behavior and getting her comfortable with me, but the longer this has dragged on the more i have been forced to accept that this is my life now.

at the end of last month, my sibling (nby20, lived with us until starting college in 2021) came down from their university town to stay with us for a few days for their birthday. during their visit, they spent some time in my room with me, hanging out and empathizing with my situation. they said some things that made me feel more validated in my discomfort over this whole situation.

the week after they went back home, the dog started acting aggressively toward my nana, especially when my nana got close to one of my sisters. it got to the point where my family had to lock her in her crate to keep her from attacking my nana, and even then she would bark and growl at my nana. so my family made the (very difficult for them) decision to stop fostering the dog and return her to the shelter. since she was returned, i have regained my access to the rest of the house.

while i am not stoked about my nana being attacked, i am relieved that the dog is gone and i am no longer a prisoner in my own home. along with this relief are feelings of bitterness—the dog acted aggressively toward me on numerous occasions, but as soon as she displayed that behavior toward my nana, they got rid of her. after the conversation with my oldest sibling, who offered an outside perspective, i have been feeling slighted and as if my comfort was a secondary concern to my family.

my parents and sisters, meanwhile, are devastated by this recent turn of events. they had all grown very attached to the dog (apparently she could be very sweet and loving when she wasn't aggressive), and they had fallen in love with her quirks and the amount of excitement she brought into the home. my parents had spent good money spoiling her with toys and treats that cannot be used now. my sisters, being younger, are especially devastated—my youngest sister has always felt things very deeply and openly, and seeing her this sad is heartbreaking. i've been trying to comfort my family as best i can, but i feel like my presence alone is just another reminder that the dog is gone.

though i acknowledge their attachment to the dog and their sadness at having to give her up, these feelings of bitterness and resentment—that her attacking me wasn't a "good enough" reason to get rid of her—remain. i am also having trouble tampering my relief and excitement at once again being allowed access to the tvs and the common areas. am i an asshole for having these feelings when my family loved this dog and are still upset at having to get rid of her?

What are these acronyms?

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #302

This morning, when I woke up, I received a beautifully written ask from someone in this space who reads these letters I write to you. I want very badly to answer this ask, but the person trusted me with some potentially sensitive information about themselves; I wanted to touch base with them before I answer their ask, and make sure it's okay, because as part of answering an ask, others will surely see it. I don't want to accidentally betray this person's trust.

Still… it moved me to tears this morning, and it was wonderful.

I received a direct message from another person today, too, who also said that they think the letters I write to you are wholesome and nice. I've also received more than a few asks and messages of support in response to the difficulties I'm having with the braces; it's been wonderful!

…Sometimes I wonder whether or not writing to you does any good for anyone other than myself. And sometimes… every once in a while… I get a beautiful reminder that the things I write have the potential to help others get through the difficulties in their lives. And… that's exactly why I write these. Aside from wanting to advocate for your safety, I also want these letters to you to serve as a means to shine a way forward for people who relate strongly to you.

…Sephiroth. There are so many, many people in my world who relate to you. There are lots of people in my world that have been abused and exploited and have experienced horror and loss in ways that are extremely similar to you. The notion that you are alone in this world and the notion that no one will be able to understand or see "eye-to-eye" with you… these notions are complete and utter horse-hockey.

Don't tell yourself mean things like that anymore, okay? It's not true, and whoever led you to that conclusion most likely did it on purpose in order to keep you isolated, and therefore weak and easy to control. The notion that any human being is isolated and incomprehensible is just abuser propaganda, and it's not to be trusted or believed. And, as I keep saying, you are human, no matter what was done to you, or how you've changed as a result.

...Well anyway. Today I felt a little more confident than usual for obvious reasons, haha! So I tried to doodle a picture. It's not finished yet but... it's a start on something maybe kinda neat!

As you can see from all the erased lines, I made a lot of mistakes along the way; I haven't doodled since drawing that eyeball a while back, and I'm more than a little rusty. I can already see so many curves that still need to be corrected. Still, not bad for my rusty, dyspraxic ass, right? Hahaha...

I ended up needing to go back to the orthodontist today at some point. One of the attachments came undone from my very confused right canine tooth as I was pulling the braces off to eat, so that had to be fixed right away. And it was, and it's good now. I have a lot less discomfort in my teeth today than yesterday, though the inside of my mouth is pretty scraped up; I've got a long-ish cut on the right inner side of my lower lip, and that's extremely uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, I guess you're not supposed to eat with orthodontic wax in your mouth. Orthodontic wax is used in order to cover up the sharp, pokey attachments so they don't cut the inside of your face. A friend of mine in this space made the very excellent suggestion to get them! And perhaps I might, if just to smooth out the edge of the plastic of the braces; it sometimes catches on my skin, and it's kind of annoying.

...I gotta keep remembering that I chose this. I chose this discomfort in order to give myself a better outcome in the future. I am worth the pain and effort that fixing the inside of my skull will take. I am worth enduring discomfort for. I can do the thing; it's just new and weird, but I'll adjust. I can do the difficult things.

Incidentally, do you know how braces work? I found a short little video on it; basically, it involves putting gentle pressure on the teeth in order to subtly cut off blood flow to sections of the bone of your skull and jaw. Your body then uses immune cells to get rid of the suffocated bone, which relieves the pressure. Your tooth moves to the empty space, and the body fills in the empty space left behind with new bone. Check it out!!

It basically dissolves, reshapes, and rebuilds your jaw on a cellular level!!! And isn't that METAL as FUCK??? Ahahahaha! 🤩🤣

After I returned home from getting the attachment replaced, I decided to make baked chicken leg quarters; y'know, my usual go-to comfort recipe:

...Want some...?

While I was making this, I happened to catch out the window the sight of a gentleman walking outside. He was under the shade of a tree for a moment, but then he walked under a break in the shadow of the tree, and the sun shone on his black hair, and it was all sparkly and gorgeous. I don't really know why, but I felt the need to tell him so, and so I did. I hope he felt nice about himself afterwards.

So I took out my braces, ate the deliciousness I created, brushed, flossed, and rinsed my teeth, brushed my braces, and popped them back in; it's getting a little easier every time. I discovered though, that at some point, another attachment came undone on one of my upper molars on the left side. I dunno when it happened; I didn't find it anywhere. Oh well. Guess I'm going to have to call them again tomorrow. Sheesh...

I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with the rest of today. It's already almost 8pm. I gotta go to work tomorrow. Friday is the rehearsal for the wedding on Saturday. The next few days are going to be super duper busy. I'll be staying overnight at BB's house from Friday into Saturday morning; I'm going to have to pack up all my CPAP stuff and hygiene supplies as soon as I wake up on Friday morning, because she wants me at her house at 11am.

But!!! Sephiroth!!! Guess what!! She's got a giant huge bathtub at her house!!! And I think I'm gonna ask her if I'm allowed to use it while I'm there!! I'm sure she'll want me freshly washed for her big day in any case!!!

The days are getting chilly (later than they should have, but still...), and so the thought of getting to sit in a tub full of hot, soapy water that's big enough for me to fit in comfortably sounds super amazing to me right now. Of course, if she says no I won't push; I'm not that kind of person. But still... I'll be daydreaming about that all day tomorrow - bet on it!!

...Hey, Sephiroth? You're pretty tall, right? Like 6'5" or something without your boots, no? When is the last time you've got to enjoy sitting in a tub that you actually fit in? When is the last time you got to enjoy soaking in deliciously hot, soapy water? When is the last time you've had an opportunity to get washed with soaps in your favorite scents? I imagine it's been quite a long time, no? I hope you get to do it again soon, in a place where no one's gonna bother ya, unless you wanna be "bothered" by someone you care deeply for.

Sometimes J or M come to visit when I'm getting washed, and that's always nice. We talk about whatever - usually with J, it's airplanes. Or sometimes he'll sing along with me to whatever song is playing on my playlist. With M, he'll usually talk about whatever show he's watching or whatever game he's playing. It's nice to sit in the warm, safe place with people who love me while all kinds of nice scents are wafting around in the air.

...Actually, for a long time, my brain recognized bathrooms as a very unsafe place, thanks to my stepmother. I've got a lot of memories of being hit and screamed at for washing myself "wrong", or for taking too long, or for not taking long enough, or for my hair looking too messy when I come out (because then I must not have brushed it well enough), or for my hair looking not messy enough when I came out (because then I must not have washed it well enough), and... just...

...She hated me, so there wasn't anything I could do to be "clean enough" for her. And so, every time I went in the bathroom for any reason while she was around, I got in trouble unless my father was around - then she'd pretend to be normal about it.

...Sigh. It took me a while to decondition myself away from being scared of bathrooms. But I'm able to recognize them as a safe place now. I like to put on a playlist to sing, and I like to try to focus on how nice it feels to be in a place that's warm and that smells good. I try to focus on how nice and clean I feel afterwards. I try to focus on the fact that I get to choose how long I take now. I get to choose what "clean enough" looks like. I get to choose how much or how little soap and moisturizer I use. I get to choose, and no one is scrutinizing my choices with the intention of finding excuses to hurt me anymore.

...And even if someone did try to do that, I'm a big, strong adult human now. I can just bite their face off!!! 🤪

(...No, I'm only kidding!!! I wouldn't actually bite someone's face off; that's unsanitary in multiple respects, and my braces would get in the way!!! 🤣🤣🤣 In all seriousness, I wouldn't hurt anyone unless failure to do such a thing would lead to someone else being in imminent danger; I'd probably just yell at them until they go away, and then let the door hit their ass on the way out. I can do that now. I'm not an unwanted child trapped in an impossible situation anymore.)

...Suppose maybe I'll stop writing now in favor of getting washed; after all, the chill has settled into my bones, and all this talk about baths makes me wanna enjoy being under hot, running water for a while...

...I hope you'll get to enjoy such a thing again sometime soon, with soaps in scents of vanilla and roses, in a quiet, soothingly lit place, where only the people you'd want to have with you can find you.

I love you. Please keep yourself safe out there, so that one day you can get up out of that damnable crater and start building a wholesome life for yourself.

I'll write again tomorrow. I'll try hard to take some yummy pictures for you while I'm at work.

Your friend, Lumine

[doctorofmagic]

Relating to the other post about Clea's current character changes (Tumblr wouldn't allow me to put all this in one comment, so I thought this was a better format): I've been constantly thinking about Clea and how having her memories wiped of Stephen may have effected her ever since we saw her re-appear in TDODS. Nothing I say here is a fact based on info Marvel gave us. As far as I've been able to tell, unless I've missed some non-main title run appearance or mention, no comic has covered what exactly happened to Clea like where she went or what she went to do. Her wiki only mentions her getting her memories back "shortly after" she loses them. If I missed something that gives context, please do correct me so I can fill myself in! As for why I think she is the way she is now in the current run, my brains just been connecting it to her lost memories. That could be that due to the lost memories she went somewhere or did something that made her darker overall, maybe being manipulated without memories of being taught and guided by Stephen (I know that she wasn't kind and caring because of him, but due to how her family is and the state of the Dark Dimension at the time, he definitely kept her on track to a degree). If we think of it this way, depending on how the whole memory erasing thing worked, would she have gotten to keep memories that involved him, such as the Defenders, or would those be gone too because he was there? In this route, could she have felt her attempts at being kinder and more caring than her later-discovered family may have been futile? Without acquaintances like her friends she met from meeting Stephen, she may feel as though no one was there to encourage her to continue trying things this way. She doesn't remain on the throne once getting it, so maybe she feels she has to turn in a new direction to protect herself and/or her people? Does the memory erasing mean he's just kind of a blur or a stranger in memories he is in? Or does it mean that her life took on a different path maybe in the Dark Dimension, as it clearly effected her in the past too. (This way would assume Clea at all points in time forgot Stephen, which could lead her down a different road. If this is the case, her memories of one lifetime could be clashing with the memories of her new lifetime so to say. I don't know if any of that made sense, I struggle to put it in words sometimes). It could also be that she's never fully recovered from losing those memories emotionally. We know she's been pretty upset since getting them back, first in a grieving/saddened manner, then in a more anger based way because she regained them only to lose the man they were about. She's gotten him back now, but that's not going to make it like things never happened, so she could still be on that anger based stage and she doesn't even realize she's becoming the way she is (I know this was referred to as "Blaming" grief in the last post, but depending on how truly "short" that timeframe between losing her memories and regaining them was there could be a lot more we really don't know. This could also be her struggling with grief, as we quickly see her go to the anger stage of it. She likely often dealt with grief in a war setting during the rebellion, which could make it harder for her to process?) Overall not knowing what happened to her and not having that covered has generally been a nitpick of mine since we got partway into this story, as I can see why it hasn't yet been tackled but the upcoming books don't make it sound like we'd be getting that information anytime soon either. (Again this is if I didn't miss something previously). Sorry again for things not making sense potentially, and for the wall of text. Again I'm not saying this is for sure whats happening, just how my mind tries to explain what we haven't yet had explained.

Nauuur, you're absolutely right!

Little is known to Clea's time in the Dark Dimension, even before her memories were wiped out. In fact, there's a HUGE gap between their "breakup" and her appearance in v5, when she helps Stephen with the whole Galactus situation.

There's this book (Sisters of Sorcery) that follows the Defenders/The Order storyline and highlights Clea as the protagonist, but you can't quite consider it canon in comics. Besides, it wouldn't explain her characterization in Strange v3 and DS v6.

The thing about erasing Clea's memories is that, as you pointed out, we do not know if it's just *Stephen's figure* or every other connection she did outside the Dark Dimension. We tend to forget that Clea often felt lonely in the Sanctum, and escaped this loneliness through her bonds with the Defenders (Patsy and Valkyrie being her closest friends). I know we hate *that* Defenders run, but it happened as well. She connected to other heroes in that meantime.

I do have the impression that Stephen was indeed her first contact with kindness, since she grew up under both Umar's and Dormammu's influences. Also his father SUCKS. In a cold world, she found warm in Stephen. So is this feeling still there when her memories of him were taken? We don't know, and this is why we need a flashback of her moments in the Dark Dimension. We don't know how she became the Sorceress Supreme, we don't know how the rebellion went, we don't know how she survived the Empirikul on her own. All we know is that she looked for Stephen the moment The Peregrine Child threatened her dimension. And here's my only reservation about this theory.

Clea's characterization in DODS. She appears to be vulnerable and sweet, especially in Lee's art.

What I *think* it could trigger her fierce side and justifies her angrier characterization is the fact that she lost Stephen twice in front of her very own eyes, and three times in the span of a week. Maybe something broke in her heart, and the fact that she had to keep proving to everyone that she was capable of carrying the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme could have shifted the balance of her heart. Let's not forget that few heroes were kind and empathetic enought to her grief (which explains why she befriended Moon Knight so quickly). Only Wong and Bats were facing the same levels of grief and they were all dealing with it in their own ways.

With that being said, we don't know if it's Jed's choice to portray her in such aggressive manner as to oppose her melancholic self in DODS or it's all part of a larger scenario where he'll exploit her characterization in order for her to find her balance once more. We don't have answers for that and it's very frustrating, especially for Clea fans, but I still have hope that we'll see something about it soon enough. I often trust Jed so I'm patiently waiting haha As the saying goes, "it is what it is".

Also, no worries!! I appreciate your long text and your sharing your thoughts and theories with us!! Thank you so much for passing by, I hope our concerns are addressed soon enough!

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Ruibo Qian - 06/03/2024

Our Pirate Queen performed a beautiful song for us. I tried to transcribe the lyrics below the cut, please feel free to send me corrections.

Source: Ruibo Qian's Instagram

Oh the music is inside me after all, I been running from it for too long, and I know now what went wrong. There is no man who can keep me for too long, I'm a river babbling over stone, and I know now where I belong. Hooooo Ohhhhhh Ohhhh Ohhhhhh Ohhh Ohhhhhhh Hooooo Ohhhhhh Ohhhh Ohhhhhh Ohhh Ohhhhhhh So let it come out, let it flow and oh these sounds they will save you if they try to erase you, and I'm only here for now. So don't wait act now the sick lips will repeat in your name, and my doubt my darling. You can run and hide but they're coming for you, and all this time I tried to fight when they speak their love, I've had enough. So baby don't go, baby don't. I've been asleep, so I now I bleed. Baby don't go, baby don't. Officer please, let me speak. I want to believe, what they oracles speak, still in all I lie to myself, what do I see. What would a piece beyond the vail of deceipt even though I tried Id have failed to retreat. And I know he'll come around tonight, in my dreams, he's still strong enough to fight. And I know he'll come around tonight. In my dreams all the oracles are right, and in my dreams I'm in my dreams, I'm, in my dreams, I'm, in my dreams. in my dreams, I'm In my dreams, I'm In my dreams, I'm.

[clownsalot]

uhm i come bearing milgram ocs can i come play in the sandbox with you guys 👉👈

anyways here are my silly guys!!

(im kinda too lazy to come up with my own entire prisoner roster and Es, so i basically just plopped my guys straight into canon. also, im only throwing in stuff from trial 1 because i havent really thought out trial 2 yet beyond vague ideas)

details and stuff below the cut!!!

introduction

015

t1 songs of the prisoners

No, I'm too scared to—!

t1 voice trailer

Ah, my name is Takahashi Naoto. Just Naoto is fine. I'm 18, in my graduating year of highschool. Nice to meet you, Warden. I think asking me about how I feel will just sway your decision making. It's straightforward, so let's keep it simple. Just take the facts. —"—"- What the hell...what the hell? I didn't think it would...it wasn't supposed to...

016

t1 songs of the prisoners

This is...payback!

t1 voice trailer

Yo~ I'm Hashimoto Akane. I'm 15 years old, 3rd year middle school. That makes us a similar age, doesn't it? Let's get along! Well, I will admit that what I did definitely made some people very upset. You'll be deciding if I should be punished on their behalf, right? —"—"- You deserve this. You deserve this! You're the one who chose to go that far...!

interrogation questions

Q: Family?

015: Both my parents. An older brother, too. I don't talk to them often since I stopped living with them.

016: Myself, my mom and dad, and my younger sister. She's 14, I love her very much!!

Q: Who was your victim to you?

015: A schoolmate. Her name was Asuka. You could say we were friends.

016: She wasn't anyone important to me or anything, so don't get weird ideas. I only knew about her because of my sister.

Q: How is your experience in Milgram?

015: It's not all bad. I've never had this much free time before.

016: It's alright but I still kinda want to go home. I worry about how my sister is doing...

Q: What do you dislike?

015: Just in general? Well, it doesn't matter i guess. I don't like things that are bothersome.

016: People who mistreat others for no reason. They're terrible. Terrible!

Q: Are there things you regret?

015: I try not to think about them. Regrets don't erase your mistakes, so what's the point?

016: I did everything believing it was the right choice at the time. But I wish I'd done more sooner. It would have saved my sister a lot of suffering and I might not even be here if I had.

Q: Do you have apologetic feelings for your victim?

015: You're the one responsible for judging if I should, aren't you?

016: Who knows. But I don't regret what I did.

Q: Any prisoners you're close with?

015: I'm on good terms with everyone. Though, I like talking with Kayano. He's a bit like an older sibling.

016: I like taking care of Amane and always try to look after her, we're the youngest in the prison after all. But I don't know if she likes it...

Q: Which prisoner would you say is most like you?

015: Mr Mukuhara. There's just something about him, like if he looks at me too long he'll know what I did. That he'll know that I broke a promise too.

016: Not that sure actually...maybe Kotoko?No...Kajiyama? I don't know. But Kajiyama's actually kinda nice when you get down to it, isn't that surprising? He looks out for Haruka, like I try to do for Amane.

Q: Is there a verdict you hope for?

015: That would defeat the point. I want to be judged properly by an outside perspective. Whatever you decide must be correct, right?

016: I'd like to be forgiven, since I think I did the right thing. But I know what I did also hurt others, so I understand if you choose not to forgive me.

bonus notes!!

i was thinking that the trial results would go something like:

for naoto (015) it'd be t1 guilty t2 innocent, something like fuuta. because his mv and song would be super vague and the prevalent theory would paint him in a terrible light, kinda like shidou except without the pretty privilege, and like fuuta whether he feels bad or not is hard to tell, so he gets guiltied. then somehow his trial 2 would garner him a crap ton of sympathy again like fuuta and his vote would turn around

for akane (016) it'd be t1 innocent t2 guilty, kinda like a reverse of naoto. she might be like muu or kotoko where the trial 1 paints her as super sympathetic/heroic, leading you to root for her, but in trial 2 she gets painted in a more negative light so she gets guiltied then

funny side note is that in terms of character parallels by complete accident i accidentally gave naoto like a wild number of paralles to kazui?? like i reached the 'which prisoner would you say is most like you' question, looked at it and suddenly realized, hey isn't this guy just like kazui??? it's that 'i personally relate to kazui a staggering amount' swag ig

akane's parallels were a lot harder to think of because she paralleled a lot of characters in different ways, so the way i ended up writing her response was deliberate and it's great fun to me lol.

i actually couldn't decide if akane would like fuuta or hate his guts, so i didn't include a 'who do you get along with?' question here since i didn't know how to answer it

for their names i ended up going down the 100 most common japanese surnames list on wikipedia and choosing ones that i thought fit, then put them in combination with their given names. i think what i came up with is a little morbidly funny in relation to their crimes that i still think i was kinda clever for, but i didn't write anything about their actual crimes beyond the vague hints in the interro questions, and i havent included the actual characters for their names. idk is that interesting to you guys

so anyways i was wondering if it'd be better if i elaborated on the crimes and wrote them out as it happened in another post or..? idk what do you guys think? should i continue to just be super vague about them

i did also come up with these guys with a prisoner pair theme in mind and it's supposed to be something like 'how much of yourself would you give for your loved ones' but im a little afraid that might be too similar to shidou and mahiru's theme about love? even though their crimes are vastly different i think

anyways that's it, have a nice day!! if you were interested enough to read all the way to here thank you so much <3

[cadet-aviator]

In trouble (2)

I’m telling you these stories of my adolescence, Tumblr, as I remember them (and I remember them vividly), and it’s good to know that all this happened more than 30 years ago – very much a different time and a different world. For one thing, this kind of strict obedience to hierarchy was completely normal, there and then. Children obeyed their elders, their teachers. You did not talk back. In the military, things were even more strict. Nobody objected.

I also mentioned that I was a bit left to my own devices, at the time. I was in an unfamiliar country, my Dad was very busy, often away for days on end, my Mom was ‘indisposed’, most of the time due to alcohol. At the time I went to Camp she was actually back in Europe, trying got some treatment. So it was just me, school, my mates in cadets, and the school cadet experience, which was a great way of using up my energies and finding a sense of purpose.

But now this. The Army had basically ensnared me. I thought I had just signed up for three weeks in Camp, at the insistence of the friendly Admiral, but now I was under their complete authority. 

I couldn’t figure out why. First of all, even though the experience had been gruelling, I still had a feeling of disappointment, of having failed. In school, I was a perfect boy, a perfect cadet, totally in control of everything, drill, uniform, school work, and ‘human relations’: I had friends, I was nice to people, helpful, engaging, even fun. People liked me, and I liked people. So why couldn’t I cope with this Army situation?

Of course I understood that this was the Army, and I understood too that Army discipline was there to prepare you for battle, not for a friendly school drill competition. But why did they say I was bad at everything – and why did I feel bad about that? Had they been extra strict with me? Did the other kids have a similar sentence imposed on them? Hadn’t I been loyal, ready to obey? In other words: if I had failed so badly, why would they not simply kick me out? Why did I have to submit to these measures? Why did they want to keep me in?

I mentioned that in the second week of Camp my emotions seemed to dry up, and ‘a peculiar numbness’ set in. At the time I thought it was just survival mode. I never thought it was part of a deliberate conditioning strategy, partly because I thought I was too intelligent to be conditioned. They just wanted to terrorise me, raise the bar of the discipline, make me alert on being a hyper-correct cadet at all times, I thought, well, let them. 

But now I was confused. They had touched something I didn’t know I had.

I talked about it to Dad. 

When the Camp was first suggested, he had been open about it – ‘You seem to like this military discipline, perhaps it’s time to figure out what it’s really all about’. That the Admiral was behind it was significant for him (and his work), but he never mentioned that.

Now, he could see my confusion. I was pretty depressed, distraught – but when I sat down to talk to him I was still in that perfect green uniform. He had accepted my ‘dress choice’ long before that, but it still annoyed him a bit; I could sense that he felt I should take responsibility for my choices. 

‘I can make this go away, son, if you want me to.’

‘Yes, but Dad… I can’t just ask you to ask them to lift these things, erase the demerits, I mean I actually deserved them, didn’t I?.’

‘Yes, but 240 hours of service is extraordinary, son. And I am not happy to have these inspections around the house all the time, really.’

‘I know… but…’

‘But?’

‘But – what if they’re right? What if I should have applied myself more? I mean I do OK in school and stuff, but maybe I was too sure of myself, or not really focused, or something?’

‘So… ? You’re saying this is all justified?’

‘I guess…’

‘Really, I can give him a call, and get this over with.’

‘Ah, I don’t want you to, Dad’

‘And the other thing? Their wish that you take this Camp again, with three more weeks added on?’

‘I don’t know, Dad. That is so tough. I don’t think I can.’

‘They seem to think you can. And I have to say – that I agree.’

‘What? You really think I have to be a soldier, like numb and obeying all the time? You want me to spend all summer there? Six weeks??’

‘I think you want to prove them wrong, certainly. And about you being soldier material, I don’t know. You used to be a really sweet kid, son, but this cadet thing has made you into something else, you’re so organised, so tough, maybe you should be there.’

And that was the rub, the open nerve, exactly. I had distanced myself from him (and Mom), in my adolescent arrogance, and now he threw it right back at me. In a friendly way.

I sat in my room and read the list of disciplinary measures, and I had this deep uneasy feeling that it was right. It had to happen. They had seen through me.

(All images are AI generated)

[stiffyck]

you inspire me a lot as an artist <3 when you were still figuring out your style and learning basic stuff, how did you keep yourself motivated? im at that point where im still learning basic anatomy and it frustrates me enough to make me lose all motivation

Honestly I have no clue. I was mostly drawing for myself and never actually intended to like. Become an artist? I tried to apply for an art school (high school, not college btw. No clue how other school systems work but yeah) and I somehow got in? And we had figure drawing and stuff so I HAD to do this sorta stuff for school basically.

Tbh art school taught me that I most likely do not want art to be my job I just want to draw stuff for myself.

So uhhh this is very bad advice because I don't really have any advice djfjrkfj I just had to do my school work which was art and figure drawing and perspective (I HATED perspective. My god the amount of times we've had to draw a cube.... )

So I guess try to like... figure out what you like drawing and try to get better at that? You can tell yourself that when you get better you will be able to draw stuff you can't do right now or idk.

I'm rambling I don't know how else to put any of this FJVKRKGKKE

Just have fun, look at references and try to figure out how stuff works and why it looks the way it does.

One thing I did like doing in art school that we had as homework most of the time were the quick few second sketches.

Take a pen or a marker or something, some nice color if you want, go sit in a park or somewhere and try to sketch people in the park. Literally just quick sketches, no erasing or correcting, just do a few quick lines.

That's supposed to make you get a grasp a little bit of grasp at anatomy and capture movement. If you combine this with something like figure drawing where you just focus on doing studies of anatomy, best done with a live model, you'll get better and better.

I should keep doing these things too probably but tbh I don't really care if my art gets better atp I just like doing this for fun.

Hope you like my non-advice because I got real rambly. It's 1 am I have an excuse.

[quiet-admirer]

I got an ID photo taken today and it was an entire experience that I needed to write out. I think it wants to be a zine or part of a zine or a loose comic or something, but I don't have zine energy right now and I don't know when I will, so I'm just posting it like this:

Badge

Today I had my photo taken for a new ID badge at work.

I didn’t necessarily need a new photo: I’m transferring to a new position internally, and could have used the one my employer has on file, but the old one was from 2017 and it felt like it was time.

The 2017 photo is a very specific snapshot of time in my life. I had been maintaining a steady weight after eating disorder recovery for about a year, and I’d never been that big before. My eyes are half closed in the photo and my hair is at an awkward length of beginning to grow out the buzz cut I gave myself in 2015 to erase everything and start again during a turbulent mental health time. That work photo was taken shortly before I started Adderall and lost about 20 pounds, and years before I started HRT and gained about 60 pounds. I have a small kind-of double chin in the photo, but it’s the kind that goes and comes with posture or a smile.

I have a double chin now. Maybe if there’s a trick of the light in a photograph it might go unnoticed – a privilege, I know – but it’s always at least a little present now.

This morning, I make a mental note to remind myself to maybe try stretching my neck a little or raising my chin when I'm in front of the camera. I want to protect myself from the possibility that the long-buried disordered thoughts will use this photo as a chance to get their hooks in again if I’m surprised by how fat my face looks in the photo.

A line from a Touché Amoré song, “Reminders,” loops into my head.

“I tilt my chin up in photographs, a subtle way to reinvent the past.”

It isn’t until I’m getting dressed to leave the house that the words reach me.

I think about a comment on an Instagram video of a dozen or so high schoolers having fun sitting around a table together that was captioned as having been taken in 2003. It was some little outburst about how they all looked so slim and happy, unlike today’s teens who are fat and depressed and chronically online.

I think about the photos I have of my mom when I was a kid, where she’d stand in the back, pull us in front of her. I think about the photos I don’t have of my mom when I was a kid.

I think about all the gaps in fat existence – fat joy – in our collective historical records, and about the social media accounts who have to go out of their way to bring images of fatness to the surface.

I’m determined by the time I get in front of the camera.

I smile and I keep my head in its neutral, comfortable position.

There’s anticipation instead of apprehension when I go around to the other side of the computer to see my face.

It’s so severely washed out by the harsh white lights that I can’t quite make out my double chin. Or my acne, which I decided not to cover up with makeup today either.

(When I was in college, I had my photo taken for the yearbook. There was a check box on the form to opt into having photo correction of “blemishes.” I didn’t check it off, even though it was an anxious decision. My acne was what it was, or I was trying to teach myself that it was what it was. I cried when I got the photos back. They’d edited out my acne anyway.)

It occurs to me that the lighting’s probably on purpose.

But the photo still looks like me.

The lighting can’t hide my round face, the way my jaw and my neck blend together in a gentle slope instead of a cut edge.

Even if I had tried to disguise my double chin, I wouldn't have been able to hide my size. I decide that I like that about my face – the only part of my body I still get self-conscious about sometimes.

The song "Reminders" by Touché Amoré is an expression of frustration that the Systems That Be fail to provide us with the care and protection and support we need. A music video for the song was released in 2020, made from stitching together clips of family and friends of the band with their pets during the isolation of COVID-19 restrictions.

Maybe it was silly to think of my employer as an avenue for defiant fat self-expression and maybe my work-issued ID with my inerasably fat face on it is a drop in an important bucket. But I'm turning around and putting these words down and showing them to a community of other fat people. And I'm looking at my own face in the mirror with the knowledge that I'm slowly inventing a future for myself where there isn't any trick of the light or tilt of my chin that can omit my fatness.