#i promise i am very normal about this thing

[girl4music]

That’s it. Anyone with the “me and my own” ideology will get clapped back.

People that actually care to help people without asking for anything in return will also get their due.

That’s just the way of the Universe.

When you’re already well off, why do you need to be accounted for? Harris specifically was talking about who wasn’t. She was addressing the poor because she knew that’s where things needed to change the most.

The people she didn’t address are not going to be impacted in any negative way. Their lives will stay relatively the same. She didn’t speak to you because she didn’t need to because you’re fine as you are.

On the other hand, Trump is also addressing the poor and minorities. Speaking directly to them. But not with love and care. With hatred and revenge. The opposite.’

He wants to make things worse for them and now he can. So if you voted for him or you didn’t even vote at all - it’s on you why things are going to be much worse from now on. And if you think you won’t be negatively impacted by it because Trump is on your side…

Think again. Because incompetency impacts everyone.

No Harris wasn’t promising the rich and the majorities something. But that didn’t mean she was out to get you. That didn’t mean that she wanted to hurt you.

She simply saw it as you already had what you needed.

There were many others that did not.

She chose to address them.

Look for EVERYONE to live comfortable lives, then everyone has also got to learn to share and to be a community. Giving and getting is a transaction between each other. This is normal. This is natural. This is the way it should be. Greed and hoarding wealth doesn’t really help anyone in the long run and that’s not well understood in America because they’ve lived an entire history through a culture of taking from others. From theft. They never question it not because they’re dumb but because they don’t realize it this is how it’s always been and how it’s always been has always being wrong.

Being afraid of community and socialism. Taught that it’s inherently bad for them and to always look out for themselves and their own first. It’s just not The Way.

Having a black woman as President for the first time would have been revolutionary for them. it would have been a start to setting things right because they’ve never been right. Keeping to tradition doesn’t always mean better because that tradition could be awful. All of this I’m writing right now only sounds so bad because it’s coming from someone that doesn’t live in America but still has lived through a Western culture that’s majorly the same and has never understood it.

See I’m a Westerner but I don’t understand Western culture and I never really have. It’s like I was born with the soul or someone Eastern. Someone whose worldview of philosophy is inherently non-dual because when I look at a person - regardless of what kind of person they are or might be - I don’t see a difference.

We all want to live and thrive and prosper but so many of us have an understanding that goes against that goal just by virtue of “well, what do I get out of it?”

You get what you’ve always had. The means to survive. If you believe that’s not enough then I don’t know what to tell you. It’s more than enough for those that don’t currently have it and are fucking desperate for it.

Bottom line is you’ve got to give a little - to sacrifice or compromise on something - to set the balance right.

Harris was the right person to lead to be able to do this. Or at least make the attempt to. What you have now - with Trump - is a lesson. And I hope you learn it well.

Hatred will never make anything better for anyone. All it does it makes it much much much worse for everyone.

You can call this “virtue-signalling” or being “morally superior” if you want. I don’t care. No, America is not my home. No, I couldn’t vote. It doesn’t matter to me.

But I still very much care about the situation because I am a human being. And I honestly think that’s all that’s needed to do the right thing at the end of the day. If you care about something or somebody other than yourself.

You know politics is whatever but people have forgotten how to be a fucking person and that’s very concerning.

You can play heroes vs villains to your dying day and see how much you’ve “gained” out of doing it then.

Rant over.

White conservative America will vote for whiteness and patriarchy.

White conservative America would rather have Putin in the White House before Kamala Harris.

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection Chapter Six!

Hey all, sorry this took a while. I also forgot to put this here when I was posting it on AO3, oops, but it's here now!

First Chapter

TW: overstimulation and its effects

How long had it been since the nice man had come in and held him? He wasn’t sure. Danny knew that he was only allowed to see this man when he couldn’t cry anymore. He missed the man so much.

Danny had started referring to him as Comfort in his head. Normally he knew he could make a better name but his whole head fuzzed intolerably when he tried to now.

Despite wanting to ask Comfort’s actual name, Danny’s hoarse voice never seemed loud enough anymore.

Danny wanted Comfort so badly that when a dark shape blocked most of his vision he instinctually went to lean into it. The shape pulled back for a quick second before Danny was being hoisted slightly higher in the air.

They were letting him down! Did this mean there was a new person that was going to make him feel better? But he hadn’t stopped crying.

Something green and blue was now in his vision as he was flipped around to laying on his back. The green thing got bigger, closer, before reaching out to his head. Calloused fingers pressed in between his eyes.

Hello, do you understand?

Danny jolted. That voice wasn’t warbled and watery. It was clear as if it were in his head. He tried to respond but nothing came from his mouth.

I am J’ohn. We are here to rescue you.

Images flashed of a facility being broken into by a bunch of costumed people. They looked so familiar it made him ache. J’ohn was very patient, holding the image for as long as Danny needed. Danny keened as he tried to recognize who had him but he simply couldn’t.

Do you know the Justice League?

Did he? Danny didn’t know. He felt he should know but nothing was familiar to him about the images and names that the green guy was sending him. The green guy seemed to give up.

Can you tell us your name? Where you’re from?

Danny tried; he got his name but where he was from? His head fogged out at the force of trying to remember. Maybe if he thought of people he knew? His parents were indistinguishable blobs of color. His sister, he had a sister, she was…she…

He was so tired. Thinking was so tiring.

There was a moment where concern washed over him and then the fingers on his forehead were gone. Danny nuzzled into whoever had ahold of him. It would be okay to sleep for a bit, right? They…the justice…?

League, the Justice League. Right. They wouldn’t mind if he took a small nap…right?

He slipped into nothingness as someone carded their hands through his hair.

---

Daelus stared in horror as rings enveloped Subject P, revealing a young boy with black hair instead of the entity he had grown to know.

This wasn’t right. He was promised that whatever he had bought wasn’t human. But the being in front of him was very human.

It had to be a trick, something Subject P was doing to garner more sympathy from the Justice League.

Daelus had done extensive work to ensure that he wouldn’t harm a person in his company. He gave employees full benefits and wages almost higher than the company could afford at first. He had paid sick days, paid holidays, paid mental health days: all because he wanted to best for the people working under him.

He hadn’t missed a single thing regarding helping others, he couldn’t have.

Subject P even got the best care he could offer without sacrificing work flow. The subject was fed high end food, muscles stretched regularly to avoid atrophie and stiffness, they even went so far as to brush the being’s teeth twice a day!

The being that was currently curling in on batman just like…

…like a child.

A human child.

He had been using a child for medicines. He’d- God he’d tortured a child.

All at once the feeling in his legs went out. Wonder Woman had good reflexes, thank goodness, or his face would have smashed into the floor. Daelus watched the boy nuzzle into Batman’s chest. A sickening churning in his gut started. He quickly turned away before it could get overwhelming.

“Come on.” Wonder Woman yanked him to his feet again before escorting him from his own facility and into a police transport.

Daelus didn’t do much more than stare blankly at the floor as the door shut behind him. All he had wanted was to help people, to fix the ailments that never seemed to end.

The attempts to ensure he didn’t buy a meta had failed spectacularly. His stomach started churning again. No wonder the being had taken the shape of a young child, it-he-WAS a young child.

The boy’s face stayed at the front of his mind. He crushed his eyes shut. “What have I done…?”

---

The boy was safely in the watch tower medbay. Daelus had plead guilty on all charges, not even putting up much of a fight. Batman was suspicious of that, but the boy was his top priority, especially with how little information J’ohn was able to pull from his mind.

J’ohn had said that the boy’s mind was similar to a static filled television screen. A few things popped in here and there but never a clear enough picture. The only thing he got from the boy was his name.

The room was dimly lit, the sound so silent it pressed in on your eardrums. J’ohn had insisted there be as little stimulus as possible to help Danny recover.

Severe overstimulation. That’s what the medical team had said. Danny had been subjected to a near constant stream of overstimulation in order to be used as he had been. Batman pursed his lips at the memory of that horrible room. Screams echoed in his mind.

What kind of man just showed a young child constant images of people being harmed and killed? What sick mind had come up with that?

Dealus had seemed dangerous, but not to the degree he had been revealed as.

A grunt broke the silence as Batman mulled over how the news was going to handle this story. A meta child being used to synthesize the medicine that so many people were depending on.

And with those people depending on it, often times to survive, what would happen now that the truth was out? Ameliorate couldn’t sell medicine after this. There would be a scandal for sure; one that could and probably would end up tearing the country- maybe even the world- apart with debates of ethics vs human lives.

There wasn’t going to be a clear cut answer. No path that would make everyone happy. He hated these situations more than anything.

A soft sigh pulled him from his thoughts. Danny was…interesting. The boy was switching between his forms seemingly at random and had been ever since they got him out. He had been sleeping almost the entire time but when he did wake he became increasingly panicked if not accompanied by someone.

Flash had, at one point, brought up that he heard Danny muttering for ‘comfort’, as though it were a proper noun and not a feeling. This worried Batman.

Worried he may have been, there wasn’t much he could do to help the boy. A facial search had come up with nothing and just the name ‘Danny’ would leave him with thousands of people to sift through.

Batman looked away from Danny as he heard the door hiss open. J’ohn nodded a greeting before stepping up to Danny’s side.

For the past week he had been trying to sooth Danny’s mind with his own powers. They couldn’t tell if it was helping anything but it was shown not to hurt so the medical staff didn’t stop him from trying.

Batman stayed for the thirty minutes it took for J’ohn to give up for the day. There was no change from Danny, but he hadn’t expected one.

J’ohn sat in the chair opposite of the one Batman was in. “Have you found any signs of where Daelus acquired Danny?”

He let out a grunt. The martian nodded before getting situated to take over companion duties.

As Batman stalked the halls he pursed his lips again. There wasn’t any record in Daelus’s files about how he obtained ‘Subject P’ but there was plenty of records of his care and needs.

In an odd way it was as if Daelus had wanted the best care for the boy despite the state Danny was in. He let out another grunt. It looked like if he needed information, he was going to have to get it from Daelus himself.

---

Clockwork smiled to himself as he watched his looking glass. Everything was as it should be again, the League in the right direction to get Danny more help than they could provide. It would be quite some time before he saw young Daniel again but the time spent healing would not be a loss to him.

Yes, even Frostbite would soon be soothed in his worries.

Everything was going the way it should.

[crimsonwolf715]

Parting Words of Regret

(Alternately, Jason left Damian with the LoA to start getting revenge on Bruce and the others who wronged him in Gotham. He reunited with his little brother upon returning to his family, but things aren’t the same.)

Damian’s studying in his room. 

“Hey, buddy,” Jason says from behind him. 

“Hello,” Damian replies, turning to face Jason. “Why do you look guilty? Did you spike Ommi’s coffee again?” 

Jason smiles. “No, nothing like that. I just have something I wanna talk to you about.” 

“What is it?” 

“I have to go.” 

“Go where?” 

“Going to do some training before I go back to Gotham.” 

“So you’re not coming back?” 

“I am coming back, just once I’ve dealt with Bruce.” 

Damian’s face gets hard. “So you’re not coming back. You and I both know that if Grandfather couldn’t beat him, then you can’t.” 

“I know him better than Ra’s does.” 

“Don’t go.” 

“You know I have to. I’m sorry that I have to leave you.” 

“No, you’re not. Go.” 

“Damian…” 

“Go deal with your strife and we can talk once it’s done.” 

Jason pulls Damian into a hug, which Damian barely accepts. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Don’t make that promise.” 

Two years Later

It’s been a long three months. Three months since Jason joined back into the Wayne family. Damian made no sign that he recognized Jason, so Jason’s been pretending that he doesn’t recognize his little brother. Jason’s reading in the living room of the manor because he’s waiting on Bruce to show up so he can try to talk him out of making him get a GED. Damian storms into the house and goes straight for Jason. He almost gets to Jason when he stops. He gets this angry kitten look, then turns and storms upstairs. Jason feels a pang of sadness and shifts uncomfortably. 

Bruce walks in. “Where did Damian go?” 

Jason points to the stairs. 

“He got suspended for fighting.” 

“That’s what he was taught to do when he has a problem, but I find it unlikely that he started a fight.” 

“Why? I mean, I know he didn’t start the fight, but what makes you think that?” 

“Common sense,” Jason answers, dodging the real answer as best he can. 

Bruce heads up the stairs and Jason decides that it isn’t worth having this fight today. Jason heads into the kitchen and starts making a sandwich. Tim comes down. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Jason asks. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Tim replies. 

“Fair. Do you want a sandwich?” 

“No, I ate lunch at a normal time, not two o’clock in the afternoon.” 

“Lucky you, I guess.” 

“I do have a meeting to go to, so I’ll be back.” 

“Bye, Tim.” 

Tim heads out and Jason ends up spending the rest of the day in his room, skipping dinner. All the little things are really getting to him concerning Damian. He’s used to his little brother running over to very aggressively tell him that they have to spar or he’ll commit a murder. Or that he’s just been struggling with his grandfather’s impossible standards for him. Damian would tell him everything. He ends up falling asleep without coming to a consensus on what he’s gonna do considering he hasn’t slept much the last week. 

The explosion buries Jason in debris. He can’t breathe, he struggles to get out from under the rubble. He feels himself losing consciousness and he cries out for his dad one time before losing consciousness. 

Jason wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He sees a small pair of eyes at his door. 

“Dami?” 

“Are you alright?” Damian asks. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Jason answers between breaths. 

“Alright, goodnight.” 

Jason’s door shut and footsteps retreating. Tears spring up in Jason’s eyes and he aggressively tries to rub them away.

I deserve that. I left a little kid.  

Jason lays back down and tries to fall asleep again. Instead, he spends the rest of the night wide awake. He’s exhausted, but he can’t seem to fall asleep. 

“Jason, breakfast!” Dick shouts. 

Jason groans, then gets up and heads downstairs. 

“You look…” Dick starts, but Jason cuts him off. 

“Comment on it, and I’m going to take out your knees.” 

Jason sits down at the breakfast table and everyone’s there. Jason glances at his watch and remembers that it’s a Saturday. Breakfast is rowdy, but Jason avoids talking to anyone. Dick keeps trying to make conversation with him, but he shuts it down with one to three word answers. He gets up and heads down to the Batcave to blow off steam and hopefully tire himself out enough to sleep. He doesn’t tire himself out enough and he spends the day mostly like a zombie. 

That night on patrol, a major villain attacks, bringing all hands on deck for damage control. Jason’s dealing with civilians when he sees Damian running. Damian trips and falls, and he looks terrified. 

“Damian!” Jason runs towards his younger brother and scoops him up quickly. 

Damian blinks slowly. “Jay?” 

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Damian grabs his jacket and puts his head on Jason’s chest. “Don’t leave me again, please.” 

“Is Robin okay?” Tim asks. “He got hit with a gas and he made a run for it immediately.” 

“I’ve got Robin, he’s alright,” Jason says. “I’m gonna take him home.” 

“Do that,” Bruce replies. “I don’t want him in harm's way if he’s been gassed. Run blood tests when you get back. If he needs it, get him to Leslie.” 

“I will.” 

Jason takes Damian back to the Batcave and easily distracts Damian so he can get his blood. 

“That’s it,” Jason says. “That was easy.” 

“What was easy?” Dick asks. “How is he?” 

“Still fine, and getting blood.” 

It gets quiet on comms. Jason ignores it and starts running tests, keeping Damian held against his chest. 

“How did you do that easily?” Dick asks. “I need you to teach me that.” 

“Maybe later,” Jason replies. “His blood’s got some drugs, but none that will do any lasting damage.” 

“That’s good,” Tim says. 

“Keep an eye on him, Hood,” Bruce says. “At least till I get back.” 

“Will do, boss. Signing off.” 

Jason pulls his comm out. “Do you wanna change?” 

Damian nods, so Jason puts him down. The two change, then Jason picks Damian back up. He carries him upstairs and they settle down on the couch. Damian falls asleep not long after getting settled. Jason runs his hand through Damian’s hair, careful not to make contact with the healing injury near the front of his scalp. He makes sure to keep up on where Damian’s injuries are. 

“I’m sorry I left you, buddy,” Jason whispers. 

Damian makes a soft noise and turns a bit, but doesn’t wake up. Jason’s chest feels tight and he forces back tears. He pulls Damian a little closer and puts his cheek against Damian’s head. 

“I love you.” 

Jason ends up falling asleep too. He wakes up hearing the door slam shut. The sun is out, so he slept for a while. 

“I’m here!” Dick calls out. 

Jason looks and Damian’s still asleep. 

“Shut up, Dickie,” Jason hisses. 

Dick pokes his head into the room and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

“Don’t you even…” 

“Awww. Look at you two.” 

Jason glares at him until he raises his hands. 

“I’m gonna go find Dad. Love you, Jay.” 

“Get out.” 

Dick goes upstairs, so Jason returns his attention to Damian. He gently picks his younger brother up and takes him up to his room. Once he’s covered up and still soundly sleeping, Jason heads to his room. He spends an hour in the shower, then heads down to the Batcave. He starts wrapping up his hands so he can punch the punching bag. Damian comes down and goes right over to Jason. 

“Hey,” Jason says. 

“May I speak with you privately?” Damian asks Jason. 

Jason stops mid-taping up his hands. “You mean without cameras? Because we’d have to take a walk.” 

“That is fine with me.” 

“M’kay, let me finish this up and we can go,” Jason replies, continuing to tap up his hands. 

Damian walks over and holds out his hand. Jason hands him the tape without hesitation. Damian starts taping up his hands quicker than Jason was doing it, but just as carefully. Jason smiles a little as his brother finishes taping up his hands. 

“You’re slow. Let’s go.” 

Jason gets up and follows Damian upstairs to the living room. Damian grabs a jacket and offers Jason his. 

Jason takes it. “Thank you.” 

Once they’re out of the house, Damian sighs. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

“Don’t want to do what anymore?” Jason asks. 

“Pretending that we didn’t know each other before. You seem to want to, but I don’t want to keep this up.” 

“Hey, I just did it because you didn’t act like you recognized me when I got back.” 

Damian cuts his eyes at Jason. “I did it when you first came back. Like to Gotham.” 

“Oh. Well, I feel stupid. I never want you to do something you don’t want to do, buddy. Except eat your vegetables.” 

“It’s just cauliflower and it tastes horrible,” Damian replies. “You can’t make me eat it.” 

Jason smiles and puts a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I was just thinking about how I couldn’t keep this up.” 

“Because of yesterday?” 

“Straw that broke the camel's back.” 

“So we’re going to stop this weird act?” Damian asks. 

Jason nods. 

“Good, I’m far past sick of it. Mother’s been wanting to talk to you since you came.” 

“Oh yeah, not dealing with that right now. I’m still too tired for that. Tell her I’ll call her when I’m up for it.” 

“Sure, that’ll blow over well.” 

“What is she gonna do?” 

Damian shrugs, even though his face says he does know the answer. “We should get back before someone comes looking.” 

“Yeah, come on. You gotta hold my hand while we cross the street.” 

“I will kill you.” 

“I love you too, buddy.” 

“Love you.” 

They head back to the manor, Jason holding Damian’s hand.

[mcytshipsandmore]

WILD LIFE EP 2 VERY MILD SPOILERS I AM SO NORMAL ///////

///////

SKIZZ . SKULK BLOCKS. DRIPSTONE AREA. HSGSVDHDVBDVJ !!!!!! RABID!!!!!! Cub may not be in the series but I am TAKING MY CRUMBS. ANYTHING. They are so dripstone to each other's skulk. Deepslate Duo or whatever. I love them..... Save me mods..... please........ I promise I'm totally normal.......

Literally no one but me is excited about this because of my obscure little rarepair (there is NO fanart and just 1 fic where they *only* get referenced for a sentence or two because one of them straight up PERISHED.... truly rarepair hell... means I gotta step up my game and make something of my own I guess)

I like my silly little block people ❤️

////////

On another note I think it's interesting how skulk kinda looks like little stars flickering? Cub is totally interested in space stuff. It makes so much sense.... Just a little thing I thought of while writing this :3 - 🪨

the reason Skizz died so much is that he saw the Skulk, thought of Cub, then decided this ain't worth it and lost THREE LIVES

-🍫

[friday-is-unfunny]

Pros of seeing yourself as a hive mind of all your trillions of cells: good reason to refer to yourself as "we" and "us" (very cool)

Cons of seeing yourself as a hive mind of all your trillions of cells: feel guilty whenever you remember how many thousands of cells you lose every second (very sad)

[satans-knitwear]

Topless outdoor coffee mornings anyone??

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[dailyhatsune]

[moeblob]

explaining to a coworker I don't socialize out of work bc of The Anxiety. then later explaining why i have gray in my hair.... it's... still The Anxieties...... goin' gray since my early 20s........

[lilbittymonster]

Day 11: Surrogate

Read on AO3

The road was long. Every ilm of his body ached under his armour. The lance that was once so proudly given as the honoured weapon of the Azure Dragoon had been reduced to being used as naught but a cane. The rolling hills of the Central Highlands were all beginning to blur into one green mass before his exhausted eyes, and only the years of treading these roads made sure he and his young charge were heading towards the tents of Camp Dragonhead.

The child hadn’t uttered a single word the entire journey, and the weeping had ceased bells ago. Now, still dusted in soot, he stared listlessly ahead as he clung to Alberic’s gauntlet. He’d been limping for the last malm and Alberic wasn’t sure if he was in any state to carry the boy should it come to it. Blessedly, the light of the campfire was visible off in the distance. All he had to do was wait until they were spotted.

“Who goes?” called a sentry as they drew nearer.

“Ser Alberic of the Knights Dragoon,” he called out hoarsely. “And…..child.”

The knight straightened at Alberic’s call. He said something to the other knight beside him, and they ran off into the camp.

“Full glad are we to see you returned, Ser Alberic,” the sentry said as they approached. “We could see the battle raging from here.” He turned to peer at the boy trailing slightly behind Alberic. “And who have we here?”

“A survivor,” was all Alberic said. “He needs to be seen by a healer.”

“Of course, of course,” the sentry nodded quickly. “Whatever you need.”

Alberic nodded wearily, and with another look at the boy, he led them further into the camp towards the healer’s tent. Now that they were in full lamplight he could see the burns on the child’s feet and hands. Smears of blood from unseen wounds crusted on his skin and tear tracks through the soot ran down his cheeks.

“Good evening, how- oh, good heavens above,” said the attendant chirurgeon. “What happened to this child?”

“Dragon attack,” Alberic said wearily.

The man was already pulling clean rags from a shelf with one hand and tugging the boy’s hand away from Alberic towards a bed with the other. Alberic released him and leaned his full weight on his lance, content to let the boy be seen to first. He was still silent, unresponsive to the healer’s prodding as he was wiped down. The burns were an even angrier red once the thin layer of black was removed and Alberic feared the boy may scar. The chirurgeon’s lips pressed together worriedly as he worked.

“What is your name?” he asked the boy gently.

No response.

“Do you know?” the chirurgeon asked, turning to Alberic.

He shook his head. “He’s said nary a word the whole journey.”

The chirurgeon hummed in disappointment. “Were there any others with him?”

Alberic shook his head again.

“A shame. How many more good innocent folk must we lose to the thrice damned Horde?” His hands were methodical in their movements, and in small concentrated bursts were the burns slowly eased. Satisfied with his work, and that there were no other injuries in need of tending to the boy, he straightened and turned to Alberic.

“Do not think your slumping has escaped my notice, ser dragoon. Sit, I shall be with you shortly.”

Alberic obeyed without complaint, glad to be off of his feet. He set the stained and bent lance to the side of the bed and stiffly began the process of removing his armour.

The boy said something in a mumble.

“I beg your pardon?” Alberic said gently leaning in.

“Estinien,” the boy said in a whisper. “My name’s Estinien.”

“Hello, Estinien. I am Ser Alberic Bale, of the Knights Dragoon of Ishgard.”

Slowly, Estinien looked up at Alberic with hollow eyes. “Where are we?”

“We are in Camp Dragonhead, not far from the Holy See. You’ve been hurt badly.” He hesitated. “Do you have any family that live in another village? Grandparents, maybe? Or an aunt and uncle?”

Estinien paused, then shook his head minutely.

Alberic closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through singed lungs. Another orphan of the war.

“Well, Estinien, once you are rested up a bit, I shall take you to the Holy See. You’ll be taken care of there.”

Estinien just looked past him again, eyes unseeing once more.

-

Alberic shouldered open the door to the apartment. It was far less glamourous than his previous lodgings, but a knight’s barrack is no place for a child. A lantern was already filled on the counter next to a small flintbox, and he methodically went around the room lighting the various wall lanterns. The room filled with soft light, and he turned to see Estinien still standing in the open doorway, staring wide eyed about the space.

“Come in, and close the door behind you, lad,” Alberic said as he set down his bag on the bare floor.

Hesitantly, as if waiting for an enemy to spring from the woodwork, Estinien stepped over the threshold and closed the door softly behind him. Trailing a hand along the wall he made a slow circuit about the common room. He paid no mind to the kitchen, but the washroom seemed to confuse him.

“What is this?” he asked.

Alberic looked up from the small wrapped bundle of plates he was putting away.

“What is what?”

Estinien was standing over the toilet with a confused tilt of his head.

“Surely you’ve seen a toilet before,” Alberic said, half jokingly.

Estinien frowned. “I have. Why is it inside, though?”

That brought Alberic up short.

“Ah, the city has sewers all throughout it,” he explained, trying not to laugh and embarrass the boy. “It keeps all our washrooms clean that way.

Estinien seemed to accept this explanation, not even looking at the tub, and continued his walk about the apartment. His meager belongings put away, Alberic watched wordlessly as the young boy assessed the space, leaning against the counter. First the bedroom on the left, then the right, before finally coming to rest back in the middle of the room.

“Well?” Alberic prompted.

“It’s big,” was all Estinien said.

“And…..that’s good?”

Estinien nodded, and Alberic’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Well, which room would you like for yourself?”

Before Alberic had finished asking, Estinien was already pointing to the door on the right. Alberic chuckled.

“Go on, then, it’s all yours. We’ll get you a proper bed after supper.”

Estinien slipped inside and closed the door, and as Alberic picked up what was left of his belongings to enter the other bedroom, he thought he could hear the faint sounds of crying through the wall.

-

The smell of bitter and sweet herbs wafted up from the steaming mug as Alberic mixed in a healthy spoonful of honey before bringing it to the currently curled up elezen on the couch.

“Here, it’s still hot,” Alberic said as he approached.

Estinien slowly sat up with a wince and took the mug from his hands, sipping tentatively at the liquid. He pulled a face at the first sip and Alberic made a sympathetic noise.

“How much longer until it arrives?” he asked morosely.

“The letter that said it was sent from Ul’dah is dated two moons ago. It shouldn’t be long now,” Alberic promised.

Estinien grunted and winced again, taking another sip of tea.

“Is that barley sock still hot enough?” Alberic asked.

Estinien shook his head and unfurled himself enough to hand over the simple cotton tube. Alberic took it and laid it out on the stones by the fireplace again, careful not to let it get close enough to the flames to burn before sitting back down on the couch. Estinien leaned against his shoulder as he settled back against the cushions.

“I can’t wait to not have to do this again,” he muttered.

-

“Again!” Estinien demanded.

“We have been at this for bells, now, son,” Alberic panted as he straightened.

“If I am to be the next Azure Dragoon, then I need to be better than all the rest,” Estinien insisted.

“Aye, and you’ll never survive even being a Temple Knight if you kill yourself training,” Alberic countered.

Estinien scoffed and muttered something, but relaxed his stance. He was nearly the same height as Alberic now, and the set of old training maille rested snugly on his frame. Secretly, he had hoped to keep the danger of joining the dragoons from Estinien and spare him the same fate as him, but the lad was stubborn, and the flame of vengeance burned brighter in his eyes with each passing day.

And so, with a heavy heart, Alberic had agreed to instruct him. And that included making sure that Estinien did not run himself into an early grave.

“We’ve done these same drills a hundred times,” Estinien complained. “When are you going to show me something new?”

“You lack the balance to accompany your strength,” Alberic said, noting the small gathering of onlookers in the wings of the proving grounds. “It takes more than simple might to slay a wyrm.”

Estinien processed this with a furrow in his brow. Alberic rested the sparring lance against the nearby training dummy and stretched his legs. A few of the newer recruits were still fighting at the other end of the sand pit, and Alberic caught some of them gawking, only to avert their eyes as he met them.

“And how am I meant to practise balance?” Estinien asked finally.

“That we can do at home,” Alberic promised. He paused. “And I may be able to call in a favour.”

Estinien’s eyes lit up.

“I cannot guarantee anything,” Alberic clarified quickly, “but I did promise I would impart to you all that I know, and I plan to keep my promise.”

-

Alberic sat up in bed, heart pounding in his chest and pulse loud in his ears, but no memory of what he had dreamt beforehand. Perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t. As he tried to slow his breathing down his sleep-addled brain eventually recognised that there was light leaking in from beneath his door. He hauled himself out of bed and dressed slowly before cautiously opening it.

Estinien looked up from the table, where he was sitting with a deck of cards spread before him and a bottle of wine at his side.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked, placing a card down on a row of others.

“Seems so,” Alberic said groggily as he meandered into the kitchen.

“Plenty of wine left in the bottle,” Estinien said without looking up.

“How considerate of you.”

Alberic slumped into the chair opposite and watched as Estinien laid down card after card. The wine was a bit too dry for his liking but it took the lingering edge off. He got back up to retrieve the last of the wheel of cheese from the icebox to cover the aftertaste.

Estinien stacked the fourth and final column of cards and swept the deck back into his hand and began shuffling.

“Care for a hand, if you aren’t sleeping?” he asked.

“I could go for a round of Skyfish, sure.”

Estinien raised a brow as he shuffled. “Skyfish, huh? The children’s game?”

“Ah, come now, humour your old man.”

“You’re hardly that old, Alberic,” Estinien said.

“If you’ve the brains for a more involved game, I’m all ears.”

Estinien chuckled but dutifully dealt them their hands. Alberic swept up his four cards, and immediately regretted the choice of game.

-

The manor was quiet in its comfort, the meal finished and plates cleared away by dutiful staff. Estinien and Aymeric were in the parlor across the hall with the cats. Alberic could hear the gentle tinkling of a bell and scampering claws on hardwood as Arienne skittered across them.

“I’m so glad you could join us this year,” Vivienne said as she sipped her wine contentedly.

“As am I. ‘Tis good to spend time in your company outside from formal matters for a change.”

Vivienne laughed at that, tilting her glass in a small cheers. It had taken the better part of the dinner and two glasses of Lominsan red for Alberic to relax in the company of nobles, even nobles he ostensibly already knew.

“Truthfully, I am glad of the excuse not to attend the larger Starlight celebrations,” she said. “My old bones aren’t what they used to be and the chairs are never comfortable enough.”

The sounds of the bell had stopped, and distantly Alberic heard the echoing sound of a door being closed followed by the wails of a small cat. Alberic hid his smile in his glass of wine. A minute later, Arienne appeared in the doorway voicing her complaints.

“Oh, did you get thrown out, your poor dear?” Vivienne said sympathetically. She patted her lap in invitation. “I know I’m not my son, but-ah, hello my darling.”

Arienne pushed her head against Vivienne’s hand, purring loudly, before circling twice and curling up contentedly.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips. “Have you ever had anyone special to call your own, Alberic?”

He coughed on the wine slightly at the unexpected question.

“Ah, nay, I have not,” he said quickly to recover. “Being a knight, then a dragoon, I had not the time nor desire to tie myself to anyone I might soon leave behind. And then when that path was closed to me, well….” he trailed off with a meaningful look towards where the boys had disappeared to. “All my time went towards ensuring the happiness of my son. And I don’t regret a single moment of it.”

“And he makes my son very happy as well. I can’t tell you what a blessing it’s been to have Estinien around.”

Alberic’s chest swelled with pride at her words. It was a relief to hear that Estinien had come out of his shell just as much as he’d hoped.

“I thank the Fury every day that they have each other,” he said.

-

I loved you as a father, but I can ill forgive you for Ferndale.

Estinien’s final words to him still rattled about between his ears. The din of the room hardly drowned them out, much as he tried. He tried to think of any other way that conversation could have happened. Any way to spare him that pain. But as always, Nidhogg had other ideas.

He supposed it was a good thing Kitali stepped in when she did. He doesn’t know if he could have had the strength of will to fight his only son. He leaned back in the rickety chair and closed his eyes.

Halone, hear this prayer of a desperate father, he thought. Keep my son safe.

[madaqueue]

i hope you guys are enjoying watching me lose my mind in real time HAHAHAHAHAHA anyways this is a childe blog now <3

[flygonscales]

I’m rereading the Saga of Darren Shan (Cirque du Freak) and oh my goddddddd

What do you put in your books Darren?? It is not often I read something so addictive. I saw someone describe them as being like crack. And yeah I can see that I don’t even read Animorphs books this voraciously

(Spoilers below)

And yet. Rereading the second half of the series. When you know who the vampaneze lord is and how it’s going to end. Just:

God. (Or should I say, Charna’s guts!) the planning that must have gone into the series. I can see the foreshadowing/just a prophesy that they don’t know how to follow properly because they don’t know how it ends. It’s like how a horror film protag doesn’t check why a cup fell down because they don’t know they’re in a horror film. Darren! You had Steve at your mercy! SEVERAL TIMES!!! Kill him! It’s unbearable!!! He’s lying!!!!!! This is like a fucking Greek tragedy mess of a plot!!!!!!!!

(Just try. Try reading Allies of the Night knowing full well what’s happening)

(The Greek tragedy comparison makes sense though, Darren is literally struggling against Des Tiny, even if he doesn’t know it)

And then, Mr Crepsley is dead, and Darren (post depression) and Harkat go on holiday to the nuclear dragon desert to gather panther teeth, gelatinous toad globes and Grotesque venom so they can go fishing for souls! It’s very reasonable that the war is drawing to a close so we need a break before the final battle but those toad spheres came of left field.

And then we hear the cirque du freak is returning to Darren’s hometown!! Love it when heroes return after most of their journey and discover they’ve changed too much to go back! But especially Darren, who cannot talk to anyone or even look around too much. He died. I LOVE IT I LOVE THESE BOOKS SO MUCH BUT I AM TEARING AND CRAWLING OUT OF MY SKIN THEY HURT SO BAD I JUST WANT MY BOYS TO BE HAPPY AND SAFE AGAIN)

(Boys includes: Darren, Harkat, Mr Crepsley. Vancha, Alice and Debbie. Not Steve Leopard. Fuck Steve Leopard. All my homies hate Steve Leopard)

And another thing: now I know about actual science - ‘vampire atoms are wobbly so they don’t show up on cameras’ - that is some of the most shallow pseudo scientific bullshit I’ve seen outside of JoJo’s. I love it. It’s so silly and makes no sense.

[i-dont-bite]

i wish they invited both finn and noah to a show like when they invited noah to fallon when millie was promoting enola

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also if only the physical copy of how to disappear completely & never be found i first encountered & read a few years ago (sort of [roughly avg age ten] reader book, not any similarly titled How To) hadn't disappeared completely & not been found since, probably b/c i put it somewhere i intended to be For Safekeeping, which is also how my binder vanished....b/c it's one of those like. those book for late elementary/middle school readers when they just weave in this unrealism which makes for a delightful range & unpredicability? and with a cynical protagonist girl like off to the races like wow her mom is depressed asf & smoking? and it's about A Family History Secrets Mystery so blatantly a haunting that the inciting incident is basically introducing a haunted [family history secrets mystery] house. and spoilers don't matter like it's stemming from there being this missing uncle who grew up so in contrast to the Winsome Winning Sibling Who Does It All Right while seeing his own affiliation with rats that he tried to disappear completely & never be found which led to this Tragedy which led to this more unintended disappearance of his & he haunts this house & wants to be left alone & only goes out at night with this [ambiguous Is That A Giant Rat Or Weird Small Dog (protagonist affected by these family situations who expresses her preoccupation with an awareness of how fate can Strike and Get you with this interest with roving packs of killer chihuahuas. people think she's weird though she spontaneously befriends this other girl struck with this bolt from the blue & a bit weird / outcast & then Insightful who i wish was in it more)] & plays into the hauntedness danger like playing into the [something's Wrong with you then] until having to take yet more action where the urge to express the truth comes out more both b/c living that hidden is more threatened but also b/c now the niece children are more threatened as well. ft. a sort of preternatural blurring of time b/c of only being communicated with through this uncle via his comic pages (that he paints?) of dubiously accurate translations of irl events that are created so quickly it seems to verge on foresight, imagine like "hmm what's this painting. it's me standing in this room looking at this painting??? as someone ominous lurks in the shadows right behind me?" in both [now how could you know this & paint it really fast ahead of time] and [horror]

[toytulini]

thinking about my oc Bytte. and. her gender is Aro. her Aromanticism is inextricable from her gender experience.

[bbq-potato-chip]

I have another ask. What was your first ever Legend of Zelda game? Also what is your favorite one ?

BoTW was my first ever zelda game! I got it when it first came out on WiiU in 2017, although I didn't really play it myself until long after lol, but its still very near and dear to my heart.

Not to be one of those people, but BotW would probably be my favorite because it was really the first video game i really played myself. The story is just so important to me and the excitement I felt whenever I'd explore a new area or even find anew korok or npc out in the wilderness felt so special! Finding the memories felt so special too- slowly uncovering zelda and link's relationship and watching zelda gradually warm up to him and then seeing the final memories was just so good, on top of slowly rediscovering the champion's relationships with link and zelda.

Uncovering the story piece by piece was such an interesting way to do the story because. You ARE link and you slowly begin to understand who these people are and what they meant to you. You know at first that there were these people who knew you that died. You know that there's a princess waiting for you, but you don't really know who she is. But you try to help out anyway. and then you realize. Oh. these people were my friends. The princess loved me. Now I have a reason to fight. And now, after I fight, they can rest in piece. To a certain extent, the story can be subjective to the player and it can be personal to the link as much as the player (ignore the momires just fight the bosses dont even save the champions etc) likes I suppose, but I really think that the way the game subtly directs the player to do things and narrative itself is personal to link and his relationships with zelda and the Champions...which is just so...special i think.

Skyward sword is also one of my favorites (although i haven't completed it...I'm almost at the end but i got scared...dont look at me), and I like totk (although i have some issues with the story and themes as compared to botw) and while I haven't player wind waker or Oot, but I'd really like to! I've watched the cut scenes for many of the big zelda games, but there are many I haven't played that I certainly would like to. But I still think BotW would remain my favorite.

[brandwhorestarscream]

How will Nightshade reacts to Hot Rod in the Invasive AU? Hot Rod's chilling in his little cottage in the woods with his fox friends and then suddenly there's this kid who turns into an owl.

Also, Nightshade is a Disney protagonist confirmed?

Nightshade has all the grace and beauty of a disney princess, all the charm and wit of a disney prince. They have all the perfect comedic timing and wholesome endearment of a disney sidekick and all the dramatic flair and intense intellect of a disney villain. They have all of these traits combined! They have risen above mere protagonist level all together and are a god! Their power is infinite and they cannot be stopped! Thank you for coming to my ted talk

In all seriousness tho, this is super cute. Owl baby meets the fox friends gang and is immediately like O^O curious birb noides. Especially if Roddy's fox cottage is near the Malto house. Nightshade stumbles upon them all accidentally and goes poking around curiously. One thing leads to another and now they have tea with the fox gang twice a week :')