#i made myself emotional while writing this

[satansagereranch]

Well, I'd love to join the game~!

🌷- To be frank, I just enjoy working with kids in general. So joyful and full of energy. They truly are a treat to work with. So when I got the task of being Satan's caregiver when I found out he regressed, I was eager to do so.

🎹 - I usually describe myself as a caregiver. It feels the most apt and natural one for me to use. That being said, I'm more than fine letting the little one choose whichever term they want to call me.

🫧 - With Satan? My ideal day with him is a nice day at the ranch, working on our emotions and how to express them healthily. I let him get some activity, an he does some mental health exercises with me to help him relax.

🧸- Satan is my regressor! You can see my blog for more details on what he's like.

🌼- I like it when Satan calls me Yogi. That's the nickname he made for me. I find it so endearing~!

🧃- Chamomile Tea without a doubt! I always keep packets with me everywhere so I have a readily brew-able cup ready~!

🎨- It's hard to pick between a tea party and reading books for me, to be honest. Both are really good activities. I suppose it depends on what my little one wants.

🍼 - No, I don't regress.

❤️‍🩹- I have a little plush of Belphegor I got for myself when I graduate medical school. Her luxuriously soft fur helps comfort me when I'm in need of reassurance.

💫- There's no right or wrong way to regress. How you feel and how your regression take form is no better or more correct than anyone else's. So don't beat yourself up feeling like you should be like other littles or that you're incorrect. You aren't. I promise you that much, little ones.

🐛- When with Satan, I call him Little Prince, Little Brimstone, and Fire Flower. He likes those nicknames. With other littles, I go by what they desire.

🍟- My favorite meal is Filet Mignon, if you can believe it. It's one of my favorite foods ever, ever since I got a taste of it during my "graduation from med school" party with my friends. As for snacks, a small smoothie always hits the spot. You can customize it with so many options, so you'll never get tired of them and can always spice them up with something interesting~!

🛁- As I said before, I've always enjoyed taking care of kids even before being introduced to the age regression community. So taking care of aggressors wasn't hard for me to find enjoyment in. I knew it for certain though the first time Satan looked me in the eyes and told me how glad he was to have me taking care of him. It was a moment of vulnerability he rarely showed to anyone, much less me, in his adult state. It's a moment I'll carry with me throughout my life.

🚗- The Beach. It's a beautiful place full of water and fun, and let's little ones be active!

🌈- I'm not sure if I have a particular favorite age range to work with. All of them are equally enjoyable to work with for me in my experience!

🪴- My favorite hobbies are meditation, arts and crafts, Incense and Candle making, and writing children's books. My work with Satan has been particularly helpful in giving me ideas for new books for little ones to enjoy~!

💌- I absolutely adore it when they make cute noises or ask for hugs or comfort. It never fails to bring a smile to my face!

💐- Don't be afraid to make mistakes and take it slow. New experiences can take a while to properly understand and test your limits and what you are and are not okay with. You'll make mistakes and you might even accidentally cross a boundary, and that's okay (within reason). Just be sure to communicate and be honest with yourself and people you share your experiences with that everyone can learn from it.

🌙- One of my favorite things to do with little ones is meditate and make incense. It's a calming activity that allows for conversation as well, letting me grow closer to the little one I'm interacting with.

🧺- I mostly care for littles in-person on the ranch, but I've been learning to help them online as well since I joined the community with Satan.

🥨- When I need to take a break, I ask to take some time to myself, go to my quiet space, and meditate or simply be for a bit, recentering my mind.

🐠- I prefer asks. No reason in particular, it's just my preference. I just ask little ones be cautious and know they're interacting with an adult. There are a lot of scary ones out there who want to take advantage of vulnerable littles.

(And on a personal note as the author of the blog, I will reiterate, I won't be friends with users under 18 for my and their own safety. They can send me asks, but NOT DMs. Not that I don't trust them, it's just a safety precaution for both our sakes. Thank you again for being understanding.)

🎀- I'm doing good. Thanks for asking!

(Author's Note: Personally, I've got a bit exit exam coming up for college. Big stuff, so a bit anxious. Wish me luck with that.)

🌿- I started the blog to give Satan a place to safely regress with other littles like him. He's always been a solitary little one and rarely interacts with anyone who isn't me or Queen Bee. I hoped by doing this and starting the ranch, he'd be able to embrace his little side more and not feeling he had to put on a defensive barrier to me and others to protect himself.

(Author's Note: I started the blog because I thought it would be cute to have a blog for Satan and Yogirt in the agere community. I had the idea ever since we first saw them in Mastermind in November last year.)

🍪- Love: The emotional connection and healing that comes with the activity. It's why I believe it should be more widely accepted in Hell.

Dislike: Cleaning up big messes. Though I accept and will not judge littles for making messes, they still aren't the most fun to clean up in the aftermath. Especially if it's a particularly stubborn stain. If it happens, I simply tell me little calmly but firmly to not make messes in the future and make sure they understand why it's important to not do so.

25 questions for agere caregivers, babysitters, & flips! 🍦🍃🍓

there aren’t very many cg-focused ask games (at least that i could find!) so i decided to just make one myself! feel free to send me an ask, or if you’re a cg/sitter/flip, rb and let others send you questions too!!

{NO K!NK/NSFW INTERACTION PLS!}

🌷— what do you enjoy most about caring for regressors?

🎹 — what term(s) do you prefer to describe yourself and how you care for little ones? (ie, a caregiver, carer, babysitter, or something else!)

🫧 — describe your ideal fun day with a kiddo! where would you go, what would you do?

🧸 — do you have a regressor of your own? if yes, tell me about them! if no, do you want one/more than one?

🌼 — what nicknames do you love to be called by a little one, if you have any you prefer?

🧃 — what’s your favorite drink?

🎨 — pick an activity to do with a baby: reading stories, having a tea party, baking cookies, or watching cartoons?

🍼 — do you regress yourself/are you a flip?

❤️‍🩹 — do you have any special comfort items?

💫 — is there anything you wish more age regressors knew? anything you want to tell them?

🐛 — what are your favorite nicknames to call regressors when they’re small? (assuming they like those names too, of course!)

🍟 — what’s your favorite meal or snack?

🛁 — how/when did you discover you enjoy caring for regressors?

🚗 — pick a place to take a little one: a playground, a beach, an amusement park, or an arcade?

🌈 — do you have an age range that you especially enjoy caring for? (to be clear: any and every age range is perfect and adorable!! this isn’t about which one is “best,” bc they’re all good!)

🪴 — what are some of your favorite hobbies? tell me a little bit about them!

💌 — what’s something age regressors do that you think is extra cute or endearing?

💐 — do you have any advice for newer caregivers/sitters?

🌙 — what is your favorite activity to do with a kiddo? (or, if you regress, to do together when you’re regressed too?)

🧺 — do you mostly care for kiddos online, in person, or both?

🥨 — how do you relax and destress? what helps you when you need a break?

🐠 — how do you feel about receiving asks or direct messages from little ones? do you prefer one over the other, or have any other boundaries about talking with you online?

🎀 — how is your day going? how are you really doing?

🌿 — if you have a caregiver/babysitter blog, what made you decide to start it?

🍪 — what’s one thing you love and one thing you dislike about age regression and/or caregiving?

[anakinstwinklebunny]

new hayden fan nonnie again, i am ready to officially join the fam (if you’ll have me)! may i be 🐮 anon?

also i have a fic request! would you be open to writing one where nerdy!anakin meeting his favorite book author who happens to be reader? or anakin could be the book author and the reader is the fan? either sounds cute to me, have fun with it!

thank you, bunny!!

- 🐮

PAIRING: writer!nerd!anakin x f!reader/ nerd!anakin x f!writer!reader

Author's note: OFC YOU CAN POOKIE!! and that's such a cute emoji 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (couldn't help myself and made two scenarios you mentioned)

𝓕𝓛𝓤𝓕𝓕 ❦

You weren’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Just because you were about to meet the ANAKIN SKYWALKER, the actual author of your favorite book series—the one whose words had ruined you, rebuilt you, and left you obsessing over every single character, every emotion described on the paper—did not mean you had to freak out.

Except, you were totally freaking out.

Fingers clutched his book against your chest as if it may shield you from crushing your nerves adrenaline, while you stood in line, shifting on your feet, trying not to think about the fact that in a few minutes, you’d be face-to-face with him.

And then suddenly— way too soon—it was your turn.

You stepped forward, heart pounding. Hands sweating

He looked up.

Oh.

You were not prepared for how pretty he was in real life.

The grainy black-and-white author photo in the book didn’t do him justice—those messy curls framed his face in a way that made your stomach flip, glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, and his sweater sleeves were pushed up, exposing lean forearms dusted with veins running up his body

God really took his time creating him.

He blinked at you, pushing his glasses up with two fingers. “Hi.”

His voice was soft, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t really used to this—like he didn’t know the power, the impact he had.

You swallowed, barely keeping your composure. “H-Hi,” you managed, setting his, well..yours, book down in front of him. “I—um—I love your books. A lot. Like, I might have reread them too many times.”

A soft flush crept up his neck. He ducked his head, scribbling something in the book. “That’s—uh—thank you. That means a lot. Really.”

Your heart clenched. He was adorable.

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have to know—how did you come up with him?” You tapped the book cover, referring to the broody, tortured love interest that had single-handedly ruined your life. “Because I swear, he haunts my dreams.”

Anakin let out a breathy laugh, looking up at you with this disgustingly-twisting-gut eyes “Uh—he just… appeared, I guess.” He smiled sheepishly. “You’re actually, um, not the first person to say that.”

You grinned. “Well, he’s perfect. And kind of my biggest crush.”

His pen froze mid-signature.

Oh my gosh..what have you done?

He cleared his throat, fumbling slightly as he handed the book back to you. “That’s—uh—good to know.”

You peeked at what he’d written, expecting just a simple signature. But beneath his name, a small note made your breath hitch and your lips to crack in a small, nervous smile:

«To the girl with excellent taste—if you ever want to discuss my characters over coffee, let me know.»

Your head snapped up. He was already looking at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Your stomach flipped.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER had planned this day for weeks. Checked the bookstore’s event schedule at least a dozen times. He had to make sure he was on the right time, the right day, wore the right clothes for this occasion. For weeks he had practiced what he’d say in the mirror, only to stammer like an idiot each time. But now that he was here, standing in line, gripping a hardcover copy of your book so tightly his knuckles were white—he felt like he might pass out.

The line moved too quickly. One second, he was behind a group of fans, and the next—

“Next, please!”

His breath caught in his throat.

Sitting behind the table, a warm, inviting smile on your lips painted your face as you reached for his book. “Hi,” you greeted, voice soft, smooth, the same voice he’d listened to in countless interviews. “What’s your name?”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

God.

You were even prettier in real life.

“I—uh, it’s Anakin,” he managed, adjusting his glasses like it would somehow fix the fact that he was a mess. “I—wow, okay, sorry, I just—uh, I love your books. Like, a lot.”

A soft laugh left you, and his heart nearly stopped, did a flip, hit his insides and went back to its place.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you, Anakin.” You took the book from his shaking hands and flipped to the title page. Gosh, you said his name in the most sweetest way possible. Was it how heaven felt like? “Do you want me to write anything specific?”

“Uh, um—” He cursed himself for being so awkward, so nervous. He was a grown man for Force’s sake. “I—your characters. The way you write them. It’s like they’re real.” He pushed his glasses up again, desperate to say something intelligent but it made no sense in the sudden conversation. “I feel like I know them. Like they’ve… changed me.”

Your pen stilled. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his.

For a second, he panicked—had he said too much? Sounded too intense? Was it too weird? But then, your expression softened

“That’s probably the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Anakin swore his heart exploded.

You smiled, scribbling something inside his book before sliding it back to him. “I’m really glad my stories meant something to you, Anakin.”

He stared at the book, at your signature, but what was the most important was the small note beneath it:

«To Anakin—thank you for feeling my words the way they were meant to be felt.»

His throat went dry.

Before he could even think, the words slipped out. “Would you—” He swallowed hard. “Would you ever want to talk about writing? Over coffee? Or tea—if you like tea, that’s totally fine, I—”

Your lips twitched. “Are you asking me out?”

His face burned. “I—uh—”

But then you grinned.

Oh.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

Maybe at the end of the day this was a story worth writing, too.

[herefortarlos]

Favorite 911 Lone Star Fandom Memories 🚒

Thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings for coming up with this lovely idea and thank you @strandnreyes @nancys-braids @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @she-walked-away @carlossreaders @nisbanisba @tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet @freneticfloetry @firstprince-history-huh @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet and @goldenskykaysani for all the tags! I read every single one of you favorite moments/memories and they made me emotional and so happy and grateful to know you all and be a part of this fandom! 💖

Anyone who considers themselves a fan of the show, regardless of how engaged with fandom you are, should participate and share if you want!

rules here

Oh, where to begin?!? I am still in denial that it's coming to an end this Monday 🥲I haven't been thinking about it too much which is also why it took me a bit to write this and think of which fandom memories for me I wanted to highlight. I hope we'll all be there for each other if someone needs a little extra comfort in the days, weeks, months that follow! 💜

All the fanfiction, fanart, gifs, edits, etc. and the friends and good acquaintances made through them!

I will always be grateful to Tarlos and Lone Star because they got me to start regularly reading fics again! I used to have a 2 hour commute into NYC and I would read fanfic while sitting on the trains but doing that for 2 years unfortunately burned me out on fanfic and my previous obsession. From 2020 to late 2022, I didn't read much fic. It wasn't until I found Lone Star through FB clips and TK's iconic, "Sure ma'am but just so you know I am a homosexual", that I had found something new to obsess over and love to this degree! Tarlos and LS also brought me back to Tumblr and into fandom in the first place! After I binge watched the show up to season 3, I needed more Tarlos and so I looked through ao3 and started with tarlos fics by @rmd-writes! I saw Rae was on Tumblr and remembered that was where I used to always find fic writers to follow! So I made a new account specifically for the fandom, hello here for Tarlos 😂, and truly engaged in a fandom for the first time! I got to watch all of Season 4 live which was great, and loved seeing people's live reactions to everything on here and loved the codas, art and gif sets people made so quickly after the episode had aired!

And then of course I made fandom and lifelong friends! I started engaging in fandom by leaving unhinged and excitable tags on people's fics and works 😅, as I tend to do, and slowly started becoming mutuals with people! And then @heartstringsduet really opened me up by dming and thanking me for my tags on a fic of hers, and the rest is history 🥹. Michelle really helped me to feel open and comfortable on here and I decided to share my name with people and now I have friends that I know I'll keep in contact with despite the show ending! Some of the most kind, creative, talented, accepting and welcoming people are in this fandom and I am beyond grateful to Lone Star for introducing us! ❤️

The lead up to the Tarlos wedding!

Gahhhh, all the bts we got, and the press tour Ronen and Rafael went on and that Hello! photo shoot, pretty sure my heart stopped when we got those pictures, not to mention the 2 episode Season 4 finale! Now that was a time to be alive! It was treated like such a real wedding and there was so much amazing promotion and was definitely wedding of the year for me!

Discovering I was pansexual and being more open with my sexuality IRL!

I always knew I was queer back in college, although parts of high school definitely make more sense when I stopped to think about them 😂. But because I was in a straight presenting relationship, I never thought to be more open with my queerness? Sure I had those few friends that knew and that I could feel comfortable with, and I had 1 good fellow queer friend at the time to confide in, but I guess I was still learning things about myself and how much of me I wanted people to know? Anyways, Brian Michael Smith and Ronen's coming out story helped me to identify myself and encouraged me to be my authentic self with people! I got my first pride flag because of Lone Star, that I will continue to display outside my house to show that this is a safe place for people that need that, and have met so many diverse and other LGBTQ+ individuals because of it! And also because of that, a good irl friend of mine came out as trans to me first because she felt safe with me! So yeah, a lot of good things to thank a show like 911 Lone Star for 💗.

Finally, becoming a beta reader!

I have been so lucky and have the most fun having been a beta reader for many talented writers in this fandom! Getting to see and help people with their works before they're published, seeing lines and dialogue that I suggested go into the final fic! Without a doubt one of the best things this fandom has given me, along with the many friendships that started because of it! 💖

An OPEN and zero pressure tag for a few people that I don't think have done this yet. @reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @carlos-tk @eclectic-sassycoweyes @paperstorm @dear-viv @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @emsprovisions @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @goodways @theghostofashton @henrygrass @lemonlyman-dotcom @guardian-angle22

[sleepymccoy]

Okay I have work to do but I keep thinking about this plot bunny instead so I'm just gonna write it out. I'm not actually gonna write the fic cos if imma write amnesia I'll do my og story that I'm working on, but I reckon that story idea is what made this one come up in my head

Anyway, enjoy a synopsis

Basically, background is mirror Spock forced a permanent bond with McCoy when he went so hard so fast on the mind meld. When McCoy came back, this bond translated to basically an unconsummated marriage bond with Spock.

Spock clocked this immediately of course and once he found out what happened he quietly went about closing his access to McCoy's mind. Never told McCoy, cos it's not gonna come up. And he just politely doesn't use the bond. It's shut

Until! This fic starts with Spock being drugged maybe I guess and he loses his memory. Maybe he remembers his life up to a point, but certainly no starfleet memories. Actually yeah that's juicy cos then he's like why the fuck am I working for humans?? Anyway

Memory loss, going drugged rather than hurt so that it can fix up easily enough when his lover works through the toxin and also so that there's some period of time before he wakes where the barriers he put in their bond fail

So Spock wakes up and has a meeting with Jim about who he is, where his loyalties are, and if he can do his job. And the whole time he's got this corner of his mind that's just rushing with complex, out of place emotions.

He steadily figures out it's a bond, but he doesn't know who to. And he can't access the bond well, it's not consummated! Jim ends up getting worried and calls McCoy up and McCoy's all pissed off cos he's mid surgery and snarky and Spock's like okay so I'm not married to the captain or the doctor because the emotions I'm getting are like concern and love and neither are showing that. One's professional, one's angry.

Spock ends up meditating and manages to prod his spouse through the bond. He does this a few times until they get a call to the bridge that McCoy's not well so he and Jim go down and McCoy's like something it WRONG with MY BRAIN I don't wanna lose my memories like Spock has, he's a useless fucker now

And Spock's like. This guy is insulting me but the only emotion I'm getting is grief and panic. Guess the brain thing isn't me poking the bond

So he pokes it again and nope definitely McCoy, and he's not happy about it. So Spock explains himself

Unfortunately saying, "the latent marriage bond between doctor McCoy and myself if the cause of his acute medical distress" isn't an explanation that goes over well

So there's another meeting, this time with McCoy pacing around the table as Jim tries to mediate. And Spock keeps announcing what McCoy's feeling even when he's acting differently. It takes four times before McCoy's performed anger actually matches his feelings, which Spock announces, which makes Jim laugh

Anyway it is what it is. Spock and McCoy finally managed to have a genuine talk after work, while McCoy has a bourbon in hand, and McCoy really insists they're not together and he doesn't know where this bond has come from. His Spock never said anything about it

And Spock's like I'm the same man and I said something three hours ago. And McCoy throws a book at him, but all the feeling Spock gets is immense fondness. So he comments on that. And McCoy is suddenly very sad

It's confusing. Spock is dizzy. He kisses McCoy because he feels like he ought to and McCoy kicks him out

Two days later, and many enormously complex feelings in his brain but very little interaction with McCoy to compare them to, Spock gets his memories back

😬

He apologises to McCoy for this kiss. McCoy is more pissed off about the bond. Spock can tell that's not true, but he's better at pretending not to know what McCoy really feels. So he explains the bond thing and that he can as good as close it off

McCoy tells him to close it. Spock admits he can tell that it's not what McCoy really wants. McCoy goes apoplectic. Spock offers to teach him to use it. McCoy leaves

Spock is meditating to close the bond when it shakes, like a spider web catching a furious fly. It's a wonderful feeling, his spouse interacting with their bond for the first time. So Spock opens himself to it and lets McCoy explore

He doesn't explore long. And he's pretty rough and fumbly about it. Whacks the spider web a couple times then leaves. Spock enjoys it anyway

Spock goes to visit once McCoy stops and McCoy's very defensive about it all, even more so when he finds out Spock really doesn't mind. Spock shows him where the connection is and how to reach out to it

McCoy takes to it like a duck to water. They argue that night but it's different, the words dance along the surface of the lake while they swirl together beneath, tides and currents pulling at each other. McCoy's emotions change on a dime, constantly fighting. And it's all there, respect, hate, attraction, disregard, humour, adoration.

Sometimes without warning McCoy will laugh, then admit the conflict between what Spock feels and says is fascinating to him. He loves to see it. He loves learning now how Spock sees the world

And at one point, for just a moment, McCoy seems to love him. Spock knows it's not real, and McCoy emotions are all over the place, but still he feels the thrum of love, then the tone changes dramatically

Because McCoy felt Spock's like for him. Deeper than friendship, more obsessive than colleagues, more physical than brothers.

So Spock promises to close the connection. McCoy admits to some of the same feelings, but Spock knew that. McCoy feels everything all the time, there's no consistency in him. If he wanted, truly and genuinely, then Spock would know about it. He knows at best McCoy is erratic

Then McCoy says something about hate being next to love, and they're kissing again. And this time McCoy doesn't ask him to leave

Spock does forget to warn McCoy that consummation will scale up the bond and oh boy McCoy is pissed off in the morning. Genuinely pissed off too, and Spock can tell

[chdarling]

Hi CH Darling!

I just wanted to take a moment to tell you how much your books have meant to me. Over the years since you started publishing TLE1 and TLE2, I’ve gone through some really difficult times, losing both my parents after a long illness. It might sound silly, but reading about James’s grief over his father’s illness and Lily’s loss after the accident resonated with me deeply. I felt seen in a way I didn’t expect, and your books made the grieving process so much more bearable.

I want you to know that I’m doing really well now, but I have to admit—I cried and cried when you dropped that TLE3 spoiler about James and Lily talking about death. That one hit hard!

I absolutely adore you, and I’m beyond excited for the third book. I just know it’s going to be spectacular. I also wanted you to know that I don’t think you realize just how much happiness you’ve brought to so many people—including me.

Sending you all my love ❤️

I had to sit with this ask for a little while before responding because it elicited such a strong emotional response in me (in a nice way!). The first time I read it, I sat down on my couch and just sobbed (again, in a nice way!). I am still in a mental place these days where I feel like I struggle to effectively wrangle my words around the thoughts I want to convey, but please bear with me as I try.

First of all, I am so, so sorry about your parents. That is such a heavy loss to bear. It doesn’t sound silly to me at all to turn to stories in times of suffering (this is why TLE exists in the first place, to be honest), and I am so profoundly honored to have been able in a small way to sit with you through this grief.

I have been feeling very useless and alone lately in the face of everything happening in my country and the world. I won’t go deeply into that, but I’ve spent a lot of time unhealthily and somewhat brutally interrogating myself over what can I even do to combat all of this, when the only thing I know HOW to do is write my stupid little stories? And what good does that do anyone, really? In the face of a fascist takeover, a burning planet, a lingering (and looming) pandemic, an intolerable onslaught of grief and loss, what is the point or value of my fuckin’ Harry Potter fanfiction? Of art at all? Of me?

This message — and all the messages people have been sending me lately — really helped to remind me what the point is. It’s connection. It’s communion.

Grief is an uneven road — it bends and forks and often loops back upon itself — but it is a road that all of us will one day walk. The point of art, I think — be it poetry or novels or a fuckin’ HP fanfiction — is to make sure that we do not have to walk it alone. Thank you for letting me walk with you, and thank you for telling me about it. It made me feel less useless and alone.

I cannot thank you enough for that. ❤️

Annnnnd I’m crying again. (In a nice way!!!!!!)

[howling-medic]

I read this yesterday (2 days ago? Time is confusing and a construct), and I had to step away and pick my jaw up off the floor. I queued the post and intended to return before it actually posted and add commentary. I have lost my original queued post that has long since been posted now, so I'm starting over with a fresh post. I would apologize for the essay length commentary and general praise I'm about to write... but I do not beg your forgiveness. It's not often that I read something that impacts me this much, so I will simply do this and continue on my merry way:

I have now had sufficient time to process and go back and reread this masterpiece. Zara, my friend, you have reduced me to tears twice with this piece, and I now have a very concerned 70 pound dog curled on my lap who refuses to accept that I'm okay.

My gods, woman. This is impeccable. It was soul crushing and healing all in one. The imagery and connections drawn across multiple mediums and genres? Brilliant.

I know you were worried about using too much jargon or leaning too far towards essay style writing vs scholarly writing, and I think you found the middle ground perfectly. Of note: I'm also a nerd who reads journal articles for fun, so I would happily read either end of that spectrum; however, this balance suits your message and the interplay of prose and analysis incredibly well.

You wove in your own narrative thread to the analysis brilliantly. Each section exponentiated the impact of the others, and it flowed perfectly.

I have to take a second, and probably multiple hundred words, to pull some quotes and try to dissect this piece of perfection, or at least highlight some of its most impactful ones. Maybe draw on some personal reasons they stuck out. Who knows. It's 0451 at the time I am writing this, and I'm uncaffeinated. We're operating on vibes alone.

I am not only Elrond's wife, I tell her. And I am not only the taking.

This was the first place I cried. There are a lot of reasons I had to stop and walk away from my computer when I read this line. "I am not only Elrond's wife," hits home in a way that I will talk about more in a piece I'm writing, but I have lived perpetually as Medic, daughter of [redacted] and Medic, sister of [redacted] (daughter and sister being their own issues to comment on another day). Oh so rarely am I my own person. To see that refutation set down in black and white so simply, to see someone say it so definitively, brought me to a screeching halt. Suddenly, I was Celebrían while also being back in that motel room where I first found her footnote - running for my life.

"And I am not only the taking." I knew what I might remember when I read this series. I knew what I would likely feel. The soul crushing feeling of helplessness this dragged up in me made me nauseous. The rawness of that line evokes is incomparable. The sheer defiance in it. The refusal to be reduced down to one moment. It set up everything to come perfectly. At the time I didn't necessarily know that was where we were headed because your narrative wandered and allowed a gradual build, but once the destination became clear, I had to return to that line as a whole and read it several times over.

In these timeless interruptions, despair is not dark and silent but “dazzling green”, dancing across the screen.

[In a time and place where I wonder when it will be illegal to be myself, I will strive to remember to keep despair "dazzling green" and keep "dancing across the screen.] However, outside the personal, and in the context of the essay, the tie back to the Elessar and the way this sentence began to pull everything into focus for me. The parallels between Celebrían and queerness was unexpected and worked seamlessly. I still don't have adequate words to describe the moment I first read that paragraph as a whole, actually.

[I could probably pull out something from every paragraph because this entire piece was a hyper-concentrated emotional and intellectual gut punch of the best kind, so I'm going to force myself to choose like one or two more lines I want to talk about for the sake of brevity. lol. Ain't that cute of me to say now? Brevity came and went a few hundred words ago.]

Put simply, the cinematic courtesan frames death, failure and grief as an aesthetic performance, one full of joy and decadence. Her dances and laments, aesthetically pleasing events within a self-professed arena of death, performed by dying women, are a re-capacitation of destroyed bodies: sexually and societally persecuted, yet capable of creating beauty.  A society that allows a group of people to live in a state of perpetual dying is a failed society; hence the courtesan’s embrace of death and embodying of corpses evidences the difficulty of queer survival in a heteronormative world. In this domain, immortality is nothing but a death scene drawn out for eternity.

I - ma'am - I couldn't even choose one part of this to pull out. I tried, and I couldn't. Remember when I said this was deeply healing? This. This. This was the first time I felt a piece of myself put back in place. I could analyze this, sure. I could, but I don't feel like it needs anything else said.

The texture of it is familiar, yes, but the shape remains strange. The bees have formed their comb around an irregular thing, one which turns the whole hive into a glowing, radiant, discoloured thing. The octagons of the comb wrap around over and over the object, another second skin I am meant to peel off, and it is harder than I thought it might be, as if the strange object belonged in the comb.

The perfect echo back to the chrysalis, the perfect echo back to the first mention of the beehive while sitting with Elrond, which seemed like such an odd and lovely little note at the time. I am in awe. The comb being harder to pull off than she expects? How indescribably perfect, and so true. So incredibly true. It was the perfect payoff from small moments scattered throughout. That moment of realization for Cel, for the reader....for one's soul.

Gods, I've waxed poetic for long enough. I can't thin it out, though, and I could write something about nearly every line.

TLDR: This was a triumph, and I am bookmarking it to turn back to on dark days.

Fun stuff from Dr. Balls — an essay collection published on the Silmarillion Writers Guild across the upcoming year that intertwines fanfiction and nonfiction in the pursuit of Celebrían + most women in the legendarium turn up at some point ✨

Head over here or click ‘Read More’ below for a brief introduction to and overview of the essays in the collection, which can all be read independently. Fans of Crablor and Mr. Balls, you will enjoy Chapter 5 & 6, which should be out in the summer.

—————

“But there is also something deeply strategic in the act of spectacle. To make a ‘lost woman’ like Celebrían into a vast, operatic, hyper-visible character is to place her where she cannot be ignored… no longer dependent on the fragile benevolence of the archive. She becomes impossible to overlook. Across this collection, Celebrían will be written, rewritten, and repeated, until her absence is not only rectified but reversed — until she looms larger than the moment of violence that defines her. To put it bluntly, she takes her story back, and does whatever the hell she wants with it.”

The introductory essay, ‘Dazzling Despair: Life, Death and a Spectacularly Lost Woman’ considers the radical potential of performing one’s own ‘death’. On the fictional front: Celebrían’s search for the Elessar transforms loss into an act of deliberately poetic spectacle.

Read ‘Dazzling Despair’ here.

Would honestly love to hear what you think of this so far — feel free to comment here or DM me as well. I really want to make sure my tone isn’t too jargon-y and that it flows well: combining fanfiction and nonfiction is something I haven’t done before.

Introduction and Overview

An Elopement with Life is a 9-part essay collection that intertwines literary fanfiction with the nonfiction essay form, exploring the idea of a Celebrían who stays in Middle Earth.

The fictional narrative follows a year in the life of Celebrían who, across conversations with various 'lost women' of the legendarium, makes the deliberate choice to not-sail to Valinor. The essays use Celebrían and “courtesan laments” as a general framework but traverse a wider thematic landscape, engaging with historiography, investigative environmental journalism, and critical queer/disability theory to unpack how mythic and literary narratives shape our understanding of loss, resilience, and reclamation.

The introductory essay Dazzling Despair considers the radical potential of performing one’s own ‘death’, as Celebrían’s search for the Elessar transforms loss into an act of deliberately poetic spectacle. The Art of Dying Twice deconstructs Lúthien’s legendary defiance, revealing how even the most celebrated figures of resistance may be vexing in their contradictions. Sea-cure is an intertextual meditation on the sea’s ambivalence—both vessel of liberation and instrument of dispossession—as Elrond attempts to communicate with the Valar across an unfathomable divide. The Poster Child examines the distortions of historical memory, positioning Celebrían as an uneasy object of mythmaking who must navigate her own commodification into a cautionary tale, paralleling a “poster child” in narratives of disability.

The collection then shifts toward a mode of speculative investigative journalism with The Crab-Eaters and The Crab-Saviours, in which Celebrían, Arwen, and the elusive Fëanorian wives cross paths with an eccentric cryptid who runs a farm of extinct-yet-not-extinct shellfish, mirroring the author and their partner’s real-world pursuit of brutalised waterfowl in the United Kingdom. Does Your Mother Know? takes on the ethics of retribution, as Celebrían and Elrond are at odds after she demands to see her sons' orc hunt, raising fraught questions about complicity, cycles of violence, and the power of bearing witness.

The collection concludes with the two-part essay The Bravest Girl in Arda, where Celebrían, alongside her father Celeborn, constructs a living reconstruction of Taur-im-Duinath, a sunken forest in Beleriand. This final couplet articulates restoration as a quiet, persistent act: the renewal of the self through reconnection with the nonhuman world, the submerged histories that whisper beneath dominant narratives, and the “little revolutions” that exist under the weight of the great ones — resonating with Tolkien’s own attentiveness to the dignity of small acts and overlooked labours. Across the collection, An Elopement with Life engages with resilience as both concept and praxis, unfolding through a dialectic of rupture and repair, disappearance and re-emergence, myth and materiality, and the histories we choose—or refuse—to inherit.

Zara is an essayist and novelist who works broadly across queer world literatures and ecocriticism. She holds degrees from SOAS, St. Andrews and Oxford.

The work will update every 6-8 weeks, hosted exclusively on the SWG, and each essay in the collection can be read standalone.

Go to Collection.

[magic-worms]

two primates

finally drew the tf2 baboon!! + some doodles i wanted to feature mostly heavy in since i haven’t seen nearly enough art of them together. i think he is a proud and loving dad. more under the cut

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[jovieinramshackle]

I always try to not be shy about the fact Pio does not pass as a man at all, and that he is in a situation where he cannot take the steps to do so (medically transitioning basically)— not just financially, but mentally too.

He hates his chest, his private parts and the fact they cause hin extreme dysphoria once a month from his period, his voice is audibly feminine, he even has very "soft feminine" features, he is often mistaken for a butch woman and misgendered a lot (he's also very anxious about correcting people, since he's afraid of how they'll react).

And I feel it's important from me to showcase these features, because they’re part of a realty many transmasc/guys/men like me go through.

The thing about Pio is that he has an extremely hard time believing he's a "real man". Almost everything in his life is an active reminder that society does not see him as a man, and he has internalised it. He is happy the people close to him (his father, Chris and his family) confirm they see him as a man, but he has a hard time genuinely believing they actually do, because he can't possibly say the same about himself.

He's on the verge of giving up sometimes, to detransition, to go back being [REDACTED] and be a woman again. He thinks it will make life easier. After all, it'll be easier to socialise, talk to people, and even find a partner. Pio is gay after all, but what gay man would love a "woman," right? Straight men must be his only option, right?

But it won't be easier, it will outright kill.

And this is why his relationship with Fellow is so crucial to him. For all his faults, the fox did one very important thing right in the relationship— love Pio for the man that he is.

Fellow didn't always have the right words, but he knew words weren't really gonna help such a dysphoric person like Pio. The constant and consistent love and support over time was what made Pio realise how genuine Fellow was with him.

Intimacy felt less uncomfortable, it actually became enjoyable. He could actually bare his features, even if a little. He actually grow to like his voice a little, even if he's fine with it changing. Everything just became a little easier when he was with Fellow, he could actually see himself as desirable, to an other queer man no less.

He began thinking that perhaps he is a man, regardless of everything. This reduction of his dysphoria was what made him more motivated to seek medical transition later one, as he finally could think to himself, "this isn't pointless." He realised nothing can stop him from being the man that he is.

Even after their falling out during their work in Playful Land, Pio still had this drive in him. He went back to his father and started working, slowly saving up to seek a way to get his hands on HRT. And although he has a long way to go, he is for once finally determined to do what he must do for his well being.

He kinda spiralled for a while because of the falling out. He even began relying on alcohol for a bit. But this new profound drive carried him every day and kept him alive.

So basically, as angry as he is with Fellow, he will always be grateful for all the genuine love and desire he was given. It, quite literally, saved his life.

So yeah ofc they make up in the end, what did you expect, to not give them a happy ending? Poser./j

@sunnysidesevenup @theolivetree123 tagging you two cuz...Pio Lore....heh....<3

tag list : @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk

@cyanide-latte @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @oya-oya-okay @viperbunnies @jadelover69

@twsted-void @lallopsyou (lmk/dm if you wanna be added)

[candy8448]

I was thinking about the stakes in tears of the kingdom:

(A small analysis essay)

(Ill be using words that will hopefully not out any spoilers)

In breath of the wild you had to defeat ganon, the stakes were that if you didn't defeat ganon in time zelda would be too weak to hold him any longer and the kingdom of hyrule will be doomed.

However in totk, there is nothing like that. There is no urgent stakes for defeating ganondorf. Everything is almost at a standstill, everything has been waiting since the begining of this Hyrule and there is no time limit for fighting ganondorf. In fact, ganondorf is kinda just waiting for link at the end.

And then i remembered, this game isn't about saving Hyrule, Hyrule is fine, everyone is actually kind of excited at these turn of events. There is no current evil they should be concerned of other than the gloom which is easily dodged.

This game is about finding and being with Zelda.

It's been that from the very start.

From the moment you wake up on the geat sky island you are given the objective to find zelda

Everyone who is close to you is asking where is zelda, you are told to investigate each region because zelda was spotted there, not because a great evil has arrived and they are in danger (even though that is also the case, zelda is still at the forefront of your concern)

It's only later in the game, once you have almost everything done that the goal becomes defeat ganondorf but even then, it is because you now know what happened wih zelda and need to make sure her efforts were worth it. Once you know that zelda's goals are to defeat ganondorf, that is when you join her in her goals rather than looking for her.

Even until the very last second of the end credits scene it is about getting to zelda, saving zelda, making sure zelda is okay, standing by zelda...

Breath of the wild was about regaining your memories, doing what you can and gaining forces to aid in defeating ganon because that is what you are told to do by the king at the begining, a role told to someone who has no memories, no way to make a decision of what he wants to do. This is even so in the memories, he is a soldier that must do as he is told, no choices made by himself alone. The game is about rebuilding and defeating an evil before it can stop that healing. He, We are a slate that has no job to do other than save everybody in time.

In tears of the kingdom, we have those memories, we have those experiences, he has the connections and emotions to decide for himself what he wants, not a duty to the kingdom. He got to chose what is important to him and he got to put that front and center in his life, above duty, above a role, above anything else,

And he chose Zelda...

[rinhaler]

ig coz you only got 2 notes on that post saying you were writing earlier lmao hoping to get more attention now you’ve said you’re gonna deactivate = attention seeker

you think I care about making a random chatty post and not getting notes on it enough to deactivate 😭😭 embarrassing take idk who you are but if you think I’m that much of an attention seeker ig you should block me but I’ll happily do it for you if you wanna continue this.

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King Seb :D

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.

[loosesodamarble]

As Time Moves On Part 3: An Overdue Reconciliation

Summary: Nozel gathers his family for a discussion that needs to happen for the sake of the future of House Silva. Genre: general, hurt/comfort(?) Word count: ~3800

..........

Noelle gazed up at the grand visage of House Silva’s wing of the royal palace. The tall, sleek towers and spires. The windows that gleamed more like crystal than glass in the sunlight. It was beautiful but austere.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” a voice asked from behind her.

Noelle turned around to look at Finral as he leaned out of the portal he was holding open. His brows furrowed in concern and as much as he smiled, Noelle could tell it was something he forced at the moment.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m royalty, I’ll be fine here,” Noelle stated as she flicked one of her pigtails behind her shoulder. When Finral didn’t back into his portal, Noelle instead gave her squadmate a small grin. “I’m me, I can handle myself.”

The concern on Finral’s face loosened a bit. He almost receded into the portal before he extended an arm to Noelle. And from the look in his eyes, Noelle knew. She stepped over and let Finral give her a one-armed hug. She hugged him back.

“You better not come back to tell us you joined the Eagles, got it?” Finral muttered as he gave the back of Noelle’s shoulder a pat.

“If you really want to be stuck with me…” Noelle gave him a squeeze before they both let go.

The two gave each other a smile and nod before Noelle turned to House Silva again. Once upon a time, the palace was a cold and lonely prison. She took a deep breath. Then, she took her first step towards the door.

Today, she was returning to her first home.

.....

In one of the palace’s lounges, Noelle sat with Solid and Nebra with tea and snacks on the table between their seats. Nozel was still on his way, finishing squad business according to Nebra. So while the younger siblings waited, they decided to recount their actions from the night Clover Kingdom made their attack against the Spade Kingdom.

“You redirected a spell that large?!” Noelle exclaimed as she leaned forward in her seat.

“Don’t pretend to sound impressed!” Solid snapped back. “I bet you think you could’ve stopped it altogether!”

“I’m not pretending though!” Noelle said, a bit more forcefully than she meant to. “Just take a compliment, why don’t you?”

Solid made a “ngh” sound and his face started to burn red. “What you said was hardly a compliment! Besides, how do I know that you’re not just mocking me, huh?”

“Oh how pathetic that’d be,” Nebra muttered behind her hand. She leaned in Noelle’s direction. “Though if you want pointers on how to get on Solid’s nerves, I can share.” She winked at her sister.

“Yeah, no thanks.” Noelle hid a mildly disgusted look behind a sip of tea. And here I thought Nebra and Solid were as close as can be. Guess they’ll even turn on each other if it amuses them.

Her heart felt heavy at that idea. She’d always felt like she alone was pushed away and knocked down. But the cruel, cutthroat nature of House Silva could target her siblings too it seemed. It really had been for the best that Noelle never fit into that environment, that she wound up in the Black Bulls and became who she was in the present.

Had she been a fool for ever wanting to fit in with her family?

Noelle lowered her cup.

No. She wasn’t a fool for wanting to be close to her family. Rather, she was short-sighted for wanting to fit into a dynamic that tore down the weak instead of encouraging growing into strength.

Noelle glanced to her side to Nebra and in front of her to Solid. Their presence carried with them painful memories but… There was also a relief in knowing that they were okay after all was said and done.

“Ugh. What’s taking Nozel so long?” Nebra grumbled. “He was the one to summon us here yet he—”

The lounge doors were pushed open. And there Nozel was.

Noelle’s eyes went wide at Nozel’s appearance. Rather than his usual attire, Nozel wore a plain white tunic with a low collar. While it wasn’t anything revealing, seeing him dressed that way made Noelle realize that she’d never seen Nozel so casually. Nor had she seen his neck uncovered before. And it was a mildly jarring sight.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he stated while walking in. The expression on his face looked like a smile but there was a pain to it that made it impossible for Noelle to believe he was happy. “I’m glad you all could make it today.”

In total silence, Nozel directed Solid to sit with Noelle and Nebra on the sofa before sitting in the armchair across from them.

“Nozel, why exactly are we here?” Nebra was the one to ask, being the most comfortable with approaching the eldest brother.

There was a moment of silence as Nozel took a deep breath then opened his eyes, meeting each other his younger sibling’s confused gazes with an intense one of his own. He looked more serious in that moment than he’d ever been in his entire life.

And having seen Nozel in the midst of the battle with Megicula, Noelle was shocked that such a feat was possible.

“It’s time that all of you learned the truth regarding our mother, Acier Silva’s, death,” Nozel stated plainly but resolutely.

“Truth?” Solid echoed. He glanced over in Noelle’s direction, his confusion quickly turning to anger. “But we know what happened to Mother! I saw her! So did you two!” Solid gestured to Nozel and Nebra. “She got sick before Noelle was born and she only got worse after! What more is there?”

Noelle trembled, not so much from Solid’s voice but his accusation. Even though Noelle knew the truth, faced the woman and devil behind Acier’s death, the blame was still on her within the walls of House Silva.

“There is much more to the story that you are unaware of, Solid,” Nozel coldly retorted, making Solid’s mouth immediately clamp shut. “If you’ll be quiet, I can explain.”

After Solid seemed to shrink back in his seat and Nozel took a deep breath to recompose himself, Nozel continued.

“To the rest of the world, Acier Silva died due to birth complications, contracting an unidentified illness when her body was in a weakened state after pregnancy and labor, thus the blame being put on Noelle.”

Something about hearing the false narrative, beyond simply “you are to blame” made Noelle’s stomach churn. So much so that she instinctively put a hand to her mouth.

“Now it’s true that our mother fell ill late into the pregnancy. It was the reason why she moved to the family’s estate near the border temporarily. Doctors believed a closer proximity to natural mana would strengthen her and a less stressful environment would be better for recuperation. I accompanied Mother on the trip out of concern for her and a yet unborn Noelle.”

Nozel paused and pursed his lips. His hands clenched and unclenched on his knees.

Noelle noticed and she wanted to reach over, to give him some kind of reassurance as he was delving into his memories, reliving the darkest time in his life. But she held back. She guessed that Nozel needed to say his piece, to bear the facts, before whatever pain was in his heart could be healed.

“Thankfully, that illness was merely an aggressive cold. Noelle was born without issue. And after that, Mother was able to recover in a few days, thanks to the environment and attentive care from healers. The servants were sent home early so that our mother, a newborn Noelle, and I would be granted privacy before our own return.”

“I remember that…” Nebra muttered with her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “The servants were back but you weren’t and I was so impatient.” She swallowed and her expression turned grim. “But if Mother had recovered after Noelle’s birth, then what…?”

“While the three of us were alone at the estate, that was when Mother’s true killer arrived. The devil Megicula and their human host.”

Choked gasps escaped Nebra and Solid’s throats at the words.

Nozel shuddered as he closed his eyes, the memories of that day clearly still haunting him.

With painful slowness, Nozel recounted that day.

How Acier had sensed a dangerous presence before Nozel had and instructed him to sneak off the premises while she went to fight the intruder. The way Acier stood before Vanica with resolute determination.

Nozel’s posture wilted as he recounted how he’d tried to watch the fight, as if he would’ve been able to do anything if he joined it. He explained that he had tripped and the jolt caused Noelle to wake and cry in fright. There was pure fear and horror in his eyes when he described how fast, how terrifyingly quickly, Vanica had moved to loom over him and Noelle.

He described Acier’s final attack and the noxious mana that enveloped her and Nozel when it happened. As he described the curse’s effects on himself, Nozel touched his exposed neck.

“With Acier returning to House Silva weakened after labor, it was all too easy for the blame to be put on Noelle. And because of the curse on me, I was unable to defend you, Noelle.” Nozel raised his head and looked at the youngest Silva. “For that, I’m eternally sorry.”

At that point, Noelle was in tears. Quiet but unrestrained tears.

She was not alone. Nebra and Solid were also crying as if their eyes were opened floodgates.

“It was a curse that killed her?” whispered Solid. His head was bowed and his whole body trembled. “And from a supreme devil? There’s no way…”

“But it’s the truth.”

“A curse that powerful should’ve given off some trace of magic,” Nebra retorted, trying to make sense of what she’d heard. “How did no one sense it? Especially if you were under the curse this whole time!”

Nozel closed his eyes and his shoulders appeared to slump further. “Megicula’s attribute was Curse-Warding. It’s a magic that makes curses harder, if not impossible, to break without killing the caster. It only makes sense that Megicula was able to leave a curse that was undetectable, even to the most trained magic users.”

“So for that whole year… Mother suffered more than we knew…” Nebra covered her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs.

“We were only kids at the time. It wasn’t our fault that we believed what we were told,” Solid muttered with his head turned away from Noelle.

The sorrow Noelle felt when Nozel recounted the past began to mix with a bubbling frustration inside from listening to her siblings. Her hands balled up on her knees.

“Is that really all you have to say?” The words left Noelle with little thought. “You’re really going to sit here feeling sorry for yourselves?” She rose from her seat. She glared at Solid and Nebra. “You’re just crying over being ignorant kids and not even apologizing for what you did in your ignorance! And you!” She turned to Nozel. “You say you’re sorry for not defending me but you didn’t even try!”

“Noelle, the conditions of the curse—”

“You could’ve easily worked around the curse!” Noelle snapped. “You never had to bring up Megicula. You just had to insist that I didn’t kill Mother! ‘Noelle isn’t to blame!’ ‘Don’t blame the baby!’ ‘It was something else!’” She threw her hands down at her sides. “You could’ve said any of those to defend me but you didn’t! You made zero effort in protecting me and didn’t try to reach out to me while I was made the black sheep of our family! Why didn’t you try?!”

With all her words having been let out, Noelle sighed and buried her face in her hands.

“Why…? Why didn’t…?” she whimpered between gasps. “Just why…”

Noelle cried.

And her siblings looked at her. For the first time, they saw Noelle as who she had been for years. A young girl, their little sister, lonely and sorrowful. As strong as she was, so strong as to be acknowledged by one of the Great Four Spirits and defeat a devil, she only became that way after living most of her life being shunned and left feeling weak.

Nozel stared intently at Noelle. At her wilting posture, the weight of her grief dragging her down. At her tears, which he didn’t know how to soothe. Acier would’ve known. So…

What would Mother have done? Nozel stood from his seat. I remember her… always holding me close. In the good and bad times. He stepped around the coffee table between them. Then, he put his arms around Noelle. It was not a hug, his hold on Noelle was too rigid and awkward for it to be called such.

“You’re right,” Nozel said with a fragile softness. “After Mother gave her life to protect us, I did nothing for you. You were Acier’s last gift to the world and I didn’t do everything in my power to protect you… I utterly failed you as a brother… For that, I’m truly sorry, Noelle. It doesn’t change anything but I hope that it… that you…”

Words left Nozel’s mind.

He didn’t know exactly what he hoped for. Was it his place to ask for Noelle’s forgiveness? Did he have the right to wish her a better life that he never provided her? He hoped for Noelle’s sake but he couldn’t name anything exact to wish for her. There was so much for her to have that he’d been too weak-willed to give in his own power.

It was his greatest shame.

Noelle leaned into Nozel and quietly cried into his shoulder. It was new but there was a comfort to this intimacy that they’d never shared before. It was the comfort of a dream coming true at long last.

“Acier’s last gift to the world.”

The words echoed in Solid and Nebra’s minds. And the visage of their mother, preserved in their memories and in the foyer of House Silva, could be seen in Noelle.

Nebra pursed her lips and a faint memory filled her mind.

“You promise that I’ll get a sister?” Nebra asked, years ago while pressing a hand to her mother’s belly. “It better be a sister or else— Um… or else…”

“Don’t worry, Nebra. I can feel that this baby will be a girl,” Acier answered with a smile and laugh. “And when she’s born, you’ll be a good big sister, right?”

“Yeah! I’ll help her be a strong princess like you and me and make sure she’s the cutest dressed baby ever!”

Had that really been Nebra? Had she really been so eager to meet Noelle and treat her kindly? Was she once the kind of person who smiled at the chance to take care of someone rather than smile at the suffering of others? What would Acier have said if she saw what became of Nebra after her passing?

All that love and gentleness that Nebra had known before was destroyed by the heartache of losing their mother. The suffering that sank into her bones… And her desire to see it inflicted on others…

Solid, too, became overwhelmed by a recollection of the past.

“Solid…” Acier whispered as she smoothed down her son’s hair. “You’re gonna be a big brother. You know Nozel is really cool, yeah?”

“The coolest and strongest big brother!” Solid exclaimed.

“Yes yes. Well, you need to become a cool, strong big brother too.” Acier hugged Soild to her chest with one hand while touching her stomach with her other. “Can you do that?”

Solid bit his lip. “I dunno…”

“I think you can.” Acier pressed a kiss to Solid’s crown. “Please try, okay?”

“…Okay…”

Solid grit his teeth, fighting back the urge to cry out loud. He was Solid Silva, son of Acier. He wasn’t some weakling who cried or regretted things. He was a Magic Knight, a Silver Eagle. Solid was strong, proud, independent…

And a pathetic man who knew pain but never sympathized with Noelle when she cried, just as he did for Acier, all because someone pointed at her and said “she is to blame.”

“N-Noelle…”

Noelle, stepping out of Nozel’s embrace, turned at the sound of Nebra saying, or rather sobbing, her name.

“Yes?”

Nebra wiped at her tears with the back of her hands and took deep, ragged breaths.

“Noelle, I’m sorry… For… everything… I didn’t know better but I still… Sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Me too… Sorry…” Solid muttered just loud enough to be heard. “I failed you as a brother too…”

Noelle’s eyes went wide.

Nebra, who ignored her at best or mocked her if they ever happened to cross paths…

Solid, who knocked her down both physically and emotionally throughout their childhoods…

Their apologies were pitiful but Noelle felt them in her heart.

“Nebra. Solid.” Noelle took a moment to look both siblings in the eyes.

Again, Noelle’s heart was warmed by the foreign affection that she and her siblings never had before. It wasn’t an “I love you” but the kindness in “sorry” was more than enough for her at that moment.

“Thank you…”

Her words seemed to break a dam in her older siblings.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Nebra whimpered, lacking the pride and grace she usually carried.

“What kind of answer is that?” Solid managed to sound indignant and annoyed as he cried. “Shouldn’t you be mad or something?”

Noelle pressed her lips together.

Maybe she should’ve been mad, or at least bitter towards her siblings. After all they’d done to make her life miserable and then she experienced love with the Black Bulls, she could’ve easily resented them. But rather than hatred, what she felt for her siblings…

“I don’t know,” Noelle muttered. “I should be angry but I…” Her head shook ever so slightly. “I want to forgive you. I want to be a family with you guys but I’m not sure…”

“You don’t have to have an answer right away,” Nozel stated, drawing his younger siblings’ attention to him. “I don’t think any of us really know what to say.”

The Silvas looked between themselves. Nozel’s pale violet eyes. Nebra’s deep pink like gems. Solid’s clear blue. And Noelle’s blush pink.

The four of them. Together. Like they should’ve been from the moment Noelle had been born.

As their mother had wanted…

“There’s something I believe you all should see,” Nozel said to break the silence that settled over the siblings. “Follow me.”

With that, Nozel walked towards the doors of the lounge. Nebra, Solid, and Noelle passed confused looks before following their brother.

The walk was quiet. Hearing the full story of Acier’s death and the tears they’d all shed had thoroughly drained the siblings of energy.

Nozel led his family through the halls of House Silva to a back wing of the castle, to an area where the rooms only existed because the palace had been built so excessively large. He guided them to a room that had been left unoccupied for the last sixteen years. The door opened and the light flickered on with a bit of effort from underuse.

The room was empty. Save for one large cloth draped over something else which appeared to lean against the wall.

Nozel walked to the cloth covered object. Nebra, Solid, and Noelle followed him up to it. As they approached, different expressions crossed each of their faces. Noelle raised a brow in confusion. Solid’s gaze was a pensive one. And recognition flashed across Nebra’s face.

“Nebra, Solid, do you have an idea what this could be?” asked Nozel. His hand rested on the object, curling up in the cloth covering.

Solid narrowed his eyes on the obscured item. “No. Should I know what it is?”

Nozel pressed his lips into a line before shaking his head. “You were so young. It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember.” He then looked to Nebra. “Do you recall?”

“It’s still…” Nebra blinked rapidly and seemed to be straining to speak. “I thought that you… that you maybe destroyed…”

“No. It’s been here this whole time.” When Nozel said this, a pained smile came to his face. Years of suppressed grief and love made his heart ache. “Noelle, if you truly wish to mend the broken bonds of our family, then you should see this. We all should.”

Nozel pulled on the cloth.

Depicted in immaculate detail on canvas was a portrait of the four of them with their mother. Acier sat between Nozel on her right and Nebra on her left. Solid sat on Nebra’s other side. And Noelle was cradled in Acier’s loving arms.

Acier’s smile was absolutely radiant despite how much pain she must’ve been in from the curse. Nozel did his best to portray dignity but pain still showed on his face and he'd been unable to smile for the artist. Nebra and Solid’s composure in the portrait, too, seemed forced. The only person who beamed as brightly as Acier did in the portrait was Noelle. Her angelic smile was almost framed by the blanket and Acier’s arms holding her.

Noelle’s legs gave out from under her.

“Mother…”

Nozel knelt down beside Noelle and put an arm around her shoulders.

“She wanted to hold you for as long as possible,” he whispered. “She loved you with everything she had.”

“I don’t… even remember…”

In the corner of Noelle’s sight, she saw Nebra’s skirt pool on the floor as her sister sat down.

“It’s okay. Just let it out.” For the first time, Nebra sounded like a sister. And she felt like a sister as her hand gently rested over Noelle’s.

Noelle shook her head, fighting the tears that were already in her eyes. She’d cried enough already. She stilled when she felt a hand on her back. There were no words but the warmth of Solid’s hand lightly pressed against her back was enough reassurance.

Noelle let out a wail. Only after seventeen years was she mourning the loss of her mother.

After seventeen years, her siblings were finally there for her, comforting her amidst their own tears.

It was a long seventeen years. But they were finally over.

..........

Art by @/crazycookiemaniac.

[gothsuguru]

getting an iced pumpkin chai in the morning and then my personal goal is to spend the whole day writing and i hope i can come back to this post tomorrow and rb w how much progress i’ve made!!!

[eggplant-crusader]

I wrote a short fic imagining Ezra and Hera’s reunion after the Ahsoka finale.