#in the absence of physicality ill give my love and trust

[hiddeninthe-veil]

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[fairyminnie444]

Hello, Merry Christmas 💓 (sorry if you don't understand well, I'm translating) I wanted to say that I've been trying for years with this manifestation to cure my scoliosis, and well, I've tried all the methods, reprogrammed myself and I always fall into the spiral of not seeing changes and sinking into a deep sadness, because of that I became very insecure about my body and abandoning myself. I also have dental problems, I wanted to manifest and affirm that that changes apart from the fact that I brush and take care of them, they always get decayed, they break, I spent so much money on this that it doesn't seem to have an end. I simply want to be like those people who are successful in curing their illnesses:(

Merry Christmas to you too 💓! Thank you for sharing this with me. First, let me say that your desire for healing is valid, and your frustration is completely understandable. It’s tough to persist when you’ve been trying for years, but it’s also important to recognize the incredible strength you’ve shown in continuing to believe and try.

Here are some tips on how I would handle this, hope it helps:

Shift Focus to Wholeness

Instead of focusing on the absence of it, focus on the feeling of already having a perfectly aligned spine and healthy teeth. This subtle shift in focus is powerful because it aligns your state of being with the reality you want to experience.

Affirmations:

• “My body is perfectly aligned and healthy.”

• “My teeth are strong, healthy, and beautiful.”

• “I feel so grateful for my strong and healthy body.”

Use Visualization

Before bed or during moments of relaxation, visualize yourself living in a body that is perfectly healthy. Imagine yourself looking in the mirror, standing tall, and smiling confidently. Visualize moments of joy and ease in your daily life where your health is no longer a concern.

Dismiss the 3D Evidence

It’s challenging, but try to stop “checking” the 3D for changes. Instead, live in the assumption that the healing is already done. Your body is catching up to the reality you’ve assumed, and giving it space to do so without judgment or impatience can help immensely.

Address Emotional Blocks

Deep sadness or insecurity about your body can create resistance. When these emotions come up, acknowledge them with compassion. Remind yourself that healing isn’t just about the physical—it’s also about loving yourself through the process.

Affirmations for self-love:

• “I deeply love and accept my body as it is right now.”

• “Every day, I grow closer to my ideal state of health.”

• “My body knows how to heal itself.”

Persist Gently

Persistence doesn’t mean forcing yourself to feel positive all the time. It’s about gently redirecting your thoughts whenever doubt arises. If you find yourself spiraling, remind yourself that the 3D is old news, and the changes you’ve already created in your mind are inevitable.

Celebrate Small Wins

Even if they seem insignificant, celebrate every moment that feels like progress. For example, if you have a day where your back feels a little better, or your teeth feel stronger, acknowledge it as evidence of your healing manifesting.

Borrow Confidence from Others’ Stories

Seek out success stories of people who have healed themselves. While you may not have found stories exactly like yours, reading about others’ manifestations of health can inspire and strengthen your belief in your own power.

Your body is capable of incredible things. Trust in its ability to heal and in your ability to create the reality you desire. Even if the journey feels slow, know that every step you take is moving you closer to your goal. You are already so much more powerful than you realize.

If you ever need a reminder of that, I’m here. 💓

[kaypeace21]

The ‘parentification’ of Jonathan Byers (psych analysis)

“Parentification is defined as the phenomenon where children take caregiving responsibilities (acting as a parent)  for their parents, siblings or other family members, at the expense of their own developmental needs.”

When can parentification occur?

1) After a “Divorce”   

“If there is more than one child in the family, usually the eldest, is “chosen” to be parentified .When a father-figure is missing, it may be the eldest son who is forced to take on his father's responsibilities.”

2) When there’s a “parent with a mental illness “

3)“Parental alcoholism or drug addiction.” (lonnie’s place covered in beer cans could allude to this).

4) “siblings with a mental illness’

5) “Death of a sibling or parent” (  This point is kind of cheating - but the fact Jon as a 15 y old had to plan a funeral, for his little brother instead of either one of his parents just illustrates how he always was forced to do adult duties much too young.)

6) “mothers of low socio-economic status, are frequently associated with parentification of their children. “

“given the fact that there are many single parent families, it falls upon children from some of these homes to carry adult responsibilities while their parent is out working. Often, in these situations, the parent is asking or expecting the child to take on adult responsibilities in their absence. They become the parent of the household in the interim between coming home from school and when the parent returns to the household.”

***TO MAKE THINGS VERY CLEAR: we are NOT hating on Joyce, here! “The harm of parentification is usually done not out of malicious intent. However, when a child who is supposed to go through their natural cycles of development and self- evolution,  is forced to grow up too quickly, there is a cost.” But, Joyce did what she had to do being a poor single mother - she had to work! Even when Lonnie was around- he had debts. And Joyce apologized to Jon for not being around when they were growing up (working since he was 5)- and she even mentioned working Hollidays . But at the end of s1, we see her celebrating Christmas eve with them (showing she’s trying to have a better work life balance for her kids and prioritize them more).  I think Will’s disappearance gave Joyce a wake-up call of sorts about what she values most-her kids.She loves her kids more than anything- and  would never intentionally do any harm. She has to work for all of them to survive and stay together. But it did force Jon to be parent to Will in her absence (especially cause Lonnie even when around wasn’t much help).

And in s3 it’s hinted Joyce plans to be there for her kids on Thanksgiving and Christmas- so she is trying to rectify past behaviors. Ok with that out of the way,  now we can continue...

 Types of Parentification��

“Parentification can either be emotional or instrumental, or both.”

“EMOTIONAL PARENTIFICATION : is when the child becomes a source of constant emotional support to their parent or sibling.Emotional parentification often involves a child or adolescent taking on the role and responsibilities of confidant, secret keeper, or emotional healer for family members.”

“ Parentification can also be the the process of role reversal where a child is obliged to act as parent to their own parent. Examples being: Listening to a parent talk about their problems.Serving as a confidante for their parent or providing emotional comfort and support to a parent.”

  “In cases of INSTRUMENTAL PARENTIFICATION: children take on practical responsibilities such as:Taking care of siblings or other relatives because a parent is unable to. Assuming housekeeping duties, such as cleaning, cooking,  grocery shopping. And Paying bills and attending to other household tasks .”

“ It’s good for kids to have responsibilities such as chores around the house or babysitting for a younger sibling. Responsibilities should increase when a child becomes a teenager to prepare them for being on their own eventually. However, when a young child is responsible for , paying the electricity bill, or raising a younger sibling, that is when problems arise.”

“Imagine a child who is bombarded every day with the responsibilities to tuck in sisters or brothers, or read them bedtime stories; organize drinks or food, wash up dishes, pay bills, or a myriad of housework. When burdened with that many responsibilities, self-care tends to go out the window. If the child continues to attend school, they may be withdrawn, unkempt, and visibly exhausted.”

“The effects are worsened and more destructive for the development of the child, the more the care-giving efforts of the child become a normalized expectation.“

 We see this in Joyce berating Jon for not parenting Will, properly (although her being upset was somewhat reasonable). But ,we also see this in how Joyce  says Jonathan has “always been good at taking care of himself.” Assuming Jon is ok, when he’s actually not. While Lonnie simply insults Will saying “he was never good at taking care of himself.”  The difference being Joyce criticizes Jon for not relying on her more. While Lonnie critiques Will for simply acting like a child and not being self-reliant, like Jonathan. Pretty heavily hinting, Lonnie even when around did very little parenting and expected the kids to take care of themselves. And since Will didn’t ‘take care of himself’ - it probably put the load on Jonathan to parent Will (when Joyce wasn’t around, even when Lonnie was physically there).

Consequences of Parentification

“ It is expected that complicated relationship patterns will develop between siblings.  The parentified sibling can often develop a symbiotic, codependent relationship with their siblings.”

“These people are very likely to find themselves in similar relational patterns in adulthood. They believe they must serve, help and rescue everyone in need. As adults, they may find that they have a confused sense of self-identity beyond the helper role. The only way they learned to relate, was through being of service and providing caregiving- so it is extremely possible that they have to be the primary caregivers for their own romantic partners . Since they never learned anything different. “

“ The ‘helper role’ might have dominated their entire being. Their sense of self did not get fully developed before they were needed to care for others, so as a result, they don’t know who they are except when they are doing things for others. “

“Parentified children can become very angry people. Sometimes this adult child may not know why they are angry . They can have explosive anger or passive anger, especially when someone triggers their parental wounds of emotional exploitation.”

“Parentified children inevitably develop a distorted image of what love is supposed to be like, thereby growing up to be quite distrustful of interpersonal relationships overall.Complicated attachment patterns emerge as a result. An avoidant attachment style is not unlikely. In the absence of a nurturing provider of safety and care, the parentified child may have learned to utterly depend on themselves alone- thereby avoiding close bonds and intimacy in adult life.intimacy is both craved for and avoided, both a longing and a great threat. Underneath this facade, they are quite lonely.”

This is similar to Jonathan not having friends, ‘not liking most people’, having ‘trust issues’ caused by Lonnie (that caused distrust of Bob, a father-figure) and simply being afraid to talk to people in general. Or joyce calling out Jonathan saying “you act like you’re all alone in this world. But your not.”

‘They also tend to blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, and constantly try to fix things that cannot be fixed.’

“The child may appear highly capable to tend for themselves and others, very mature for their age, resilient and even wise beyond their years- but they lack the safe haven of a secure attachment figure that is vital for the development of emotional regulation.”

A parentified teenager or younger child may exhibit the following symptoms:

-”Anxiety”

Like... this hurt my soul!  His face dropped the second Nancy left the room.He probably has anxiety but looks up to Joyce for trying to still be a good mom and keep it together. Why he said “WE’LL be okay” cause his mom is  “tough”.  He tries to lead by her example. But unlike Joyce, Jon probably always had to keep it together- even if struggling with similar anxiety issues as Joyce. Because he knew they both couldn’t act that way and “shut down” (for Will’s sake). He always had to put on a fake ‘grown-up’ front and keep the family together and help support Joyce and Will emotionally and finacially . And someone (unintentionally) saying the reason he’s like his mom is not because of her positive traits but because of her mental illness- must have HURT! Especially cause he’s probably already struggling with anxiety-  and maybe even fears acknowledging it. Because he’s supposed to have it ‘all together.’ “The identity of parentified children actually depends on their ability to suppress their needs. Since it is likely that their family already had too many problems to cope with, and so they learned to be quiet, voiceless and without demands. In order to be a ‘proper helper’ .“

And it probably doesn’t help he’s afraid it could escalate into something worse. Because in s1 they mentioned Joyce’s aunt having hallucinations. And jonathan even says to hopper “she used to have anxiety problems. I’m worried it could be ... I don’t know.” So yeah , Nancy saying him and Joyce have the same anxiety problems probably terrified him.

-”Depression”

-”Inability to trust others (we covered that) and or social isolation.”

-”Compulsively overworking in order to fulfill responsibilities at school and at home.”

-”Feelings of guilt and shame.”

“Fortunately, there are many healing processes and routes to wholeness and recovery for a young adult or adult who has been parentified as a child.Acknowledgment of your past is the first step to healing and recovery (via therapy or other means). You have to accept the truth of your story. Because, if you continue to live in denial, your mental energy will be spent in suppressing the pain that was there, rather than healing what needs to be healed. Being highly self-reliant was your only option in your household , but it may be a strategy that no longer works for you. It keeps you in isolation and unable to connect with others. Therefore, challenging yourself to connect with others authentically would also be considered one of the most potent ways to heal. The thoughts, feelings, impressions, and emotions buried within are waiting to be heard, once and for all.  “

Alright, thanks for listening I hope you enjoyed.  I really wanted to do a psych analysis strictly based on what the show presents. Rather than inclusion of the s4 movies. I did mention how those movies did allude to Jonathan’s parentification, here (if interested though). I also didn’t go into the hints in the narrative of Lonnie possibly being s****lly abusive to Jonathan cause it’s a bit more speculative ( I did talk about it in my DID psych analyses pt 1 & pt 2 though). Only mentioning it here, at the end, since one of the causes of parentification is also a parent s****lly ab*sing their kids (quite literally stripping their kids of their entire childhood in every way imaginable- and frankly the worst way possible). Regardless,I think most people neglect Jonathan as a character- and the s4 movies hint we’ll finally get more focus on him in the upcoming seasons. So I wanted to dedicate a post to some of Jonathan’s issues that may get more attention in later seasons.

[gemmaswriting]

Anidala Fanfiction Recommendations!!

I’ve been asked for a long time for my fanfiction recommendations, so I’ve finally taken the time to compile them. If there are any you love that I missed out (this includes Vaderdala!) leave them as a reply so we can all have a good time reading together. 

Writer: Shelivesfree (fanfiction profile) This wonderful girl has some of the most amazing Anidala stories I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Unfortunately, a lot of them have been hiatus for a while but her Boy Next Door trilogy has two amazing parts completed. 

The stories I recommend: 

“The Boy Next Door”: “When Padme Naberrie returns to her home after 10 years, the last thing she expects to find is her childhood friend, Anakin Skywalker; the boy next door. But 10 years is a long time, and he has changed more than she is prepared for. How will she react when little Ani is now a grown man, impulsive, handsome and completely infatuated with her? Modern AU.”

“The Girl from Harvard”: “Sequel to ‘The Boy Next Door’ Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes it grow more paranoid. Padme is in her last year of Harvard. Anakin has just started at the University of Chicago. Though they won't admit it, their long-distance relationship is taking it's heavy toll. Will their love prevail or will the distance prove too much for both of them? Sequel to The Boy Next Door. Modern AU.”

“look into my eyes, that's where my demons hide”:  ”Each time he comes back to her, a little piece of him is missing... left out there, in the field, with his brothers. She can see it in the way he smiles and it doesn't reach his eyes. In the way he cries to himself when he thinks she's not awake. And all she can do is hold him. Modern AU.”

“I Know Your Type”  “Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"

“we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love?” “Rhythmic Gymnast Padme Naberrie has dreamed of being an Olympian since she was five years old. Now, after years and years of training and preparations, she's finally made it to Rio, and nothing is going to stand in the way between her and a gold medal. Except a certain Canadian beach volleyball player, perhaps.”

“Infinite” “ My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

“for a moment” “And, just for a moment, all the worries and concerns that troubled the young couple cease to exist. Fade away to just this. Husband and wife. Asleep. Dreaming of the sweet little life they will soon bring into the world and into their hearts. Set somewhere in ROTS.”

“Procrastination” “Padmé is busy with a new bill she must bring before the next Senate meeting. Her husband has other ideas, it would seem.”

“There’s a million reasons I should give you up”  “Padmé struggles to deal with Anakin's frequent departures for weeks, even months, at a time during the Clone Wars. It's in these moments she contemplates the practicality of their marriage. Grief-stricken with loneliness, she stumbles across something she wrote a long time ago... a list of sorts. The find brings about a whole host of emotions she'd rather not deal with.”

“all I need is you” “It was her fault. His pain, his jealousy, his insecurity. It was all her fault. Padme looked up at the beautiful man in front of her, her husband, her Ani, and decided she needed to make him remember. Remind him of how much she loved him. Because no one, no man in the entire galaxy, could take the place of Anakin Skywalker.” 

“Her” “A glimpse into the Cosmic Force after Darth Vader's redemption and return to the Light Side. Anakin Skywalker is consumed by guilt and Obi-wan and Yoda are there to appease him. But it's been twenty-four years and all he wants is to see her.” 

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  Writer: SphinxScribe (Fanfiction profile/ Tumblr account @sphinxscribe ) This fantastic writer has many, many alternate takes on the plot of Revenge of the Sith - often allowing our favourite couple to have a happy ending. Their writing captures the world of Star Wars perfectly. 

The stories I recommend: 

“Where Catalysts Stand Down” “Palpatine issues Order 66, and Anakin and Padmé flee Coruscant. ROTS AU. Anakin/Padmé, Anidala.”

“Viability’s Edge” “Anakin tells Obi-Wan the truth. ROTS AU. Anakin/Padmé, Anidala.”

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Writer: Disco Shop Girl (Fanfiction profile) This writer’s take on Anidala is so well written within every story of theirs I have read. They truly capture their dynamic and relationship perfectly. 

The stories I recommend:

“Your helmet cracked” “He'd been restrained, forced to watch while her helmet cracked and the Mon Calamari sea water threatened to drown her before his eyes. Now they're free. And alone. Set at the end of the Clone Wars season 4 Water War arc.” 

“Order 66-S” “The order was to exterminate all Jedi: Past, Present and Future. Captain Rex has a different plan. Order 66-S: to save General Skywalker.”

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Writer: Rogue Darth Skywalker (Fanfiction profile/ Tumblr - @roguedarthskywalker) This wonderful person has been one of the biggest supporters of my own writing for a long time and I value them immensely! They have many delicious Anidala/Vaderdala stories for you to obsess over for hours and hours. I highly recommend following both profiles linked above.

The stories I recommend:

“Pin up Problems” “He hated the nose art. He hated seeing others degrade her other exceptional qualities by depicting her as some pin up girl. He hated thinking about how many other beings across the stars fantasized about her in such a way. At the same time, he can't deny that the art makes her look… hot. He can't deny that the sight turns him on.”

“Letting Go” “It was their custom. Every year on that fateful day, Anakin would make his way to the cemetery with his children and seek out the mausoleum where she rested."

“Far from Perfect” “Darth Vader is dead. Anakin is redeemed and lives on Naboo with Padme and their children. But not all happy endings are perfect.”

“Far from Easy” “Sequel to Far From Perfect. Redeemed Anakin Skywalker tries to make things right with his wife and kids.

“Perfect” “Happy Family style AU post ROTS. Padme wakes up in the middle of the night and ponders the most recent events in her life.”

“A Dangerous Fantasy” “Pure Smut. Padme helps Anakin fulfil a fantasy he has had since they were married- one that involves the Jedi Council Chambers.”

“Untitled” “Anakin and Padme deal with having to tell their young twins they are having another baby.”

“Strictly Professional” “There are times she hates that she has to resort to this- that rather than being in a long term relationship with someone, she chose to instead pay someone for sex. Modern AU.”  

“Out of his Depth” “I fought in a war. I commanded legions of soldiers against battle droids. I think I can handle my own four-year-old twins."

“Love and Jealousy” “Anakin gave the binders an experimental tug, testing his chances of escaping. There was none. A light chuckle left his lips after a few moments, letting his head fall back to rest on the chair. What a compromising position for a Jedi Knight to be in. Handcuffed in a respected senator's bedchambers practically naked… oh, how the holonews would rave should the story get out!” 

“Against all Odds” “He shouldn't be here. The election was only a few weeks away and the final debate was due in the next few days. There were so many other things he should be doing. He shouldn't be here, in enemy territory wrapped in the arms of the woman his boss despised. Modern AU. Smut.” 

“What we Hope is Never Found” “The impending existence of a recording of them together held dangers that went a little deeper than if they were found naked and tangled together in her office or on his cruiser. The physical proof of their relationship would cause an uproar if it were discovered. But she trusted Anakin. Smut.”

“It was Found” “Sequel to What We Hope is Never Found.”

“Things that go bump in the night” “Luke and Leia think there is a ghost in their home. Their parents know better.”

“Preparations” “She couldn't wait to meet their little ones. It hadn't been too long since they learned she was having twins, and as stressful as that idea was at first, she was quickly growing accustomed to the idea of having two perfect little babies. Her husband, however, seemed to be taking it a little worse than her.” 

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Writer: Skywalkersamidala (Archive of our Own profile/ Tumblr @markantonys) I absolutely adore the Anidala stories created by this author whether they’re aus or canon! They nail the couple’s dynamic throughout their many wonderful stories. 

The stories I recommend:

“Snow Place like Home” “For genre-typical convoluted reasons involving ill-timed blizzards, Padmé is forced to spend the holidays at Anakin's house. Anakin isn't as upset about his boss staying with him for Christmas as he probably should be.“

“Soulmates R Us” “Anakin works at a toy store, and single-mother-of-twins Padmé is becoming one of the store's best customers.”

“Heirs of Light and Darkness” “After escaping the Jedi purge two years ago made him the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy, Anakin Skywalker has at last been captured by the Empire. He expects to be killed, but Lady Padmé Amidala, the imperial heir, has other ideas.”

“Friendly Competition” “Playing Quidditch is awfully difficult when you’re in love with the rival Seeker. Snapshots of Anakin and Padmé’s 7 years at Hogwarts.“

“Perfect” “The war is over, Luke and Leia are five years old, and Anakin and Padmé finally have the peaceful life and big family they've always dreamed of. But their life is about to get a little less peaceful and their family a little bigger.“

“Nos Cedamus Amori“ “Anakin is a gladiator and a slave. Padmé is the wife of the Roman emperor's heir. Circumstances should never even allow them to meet, let alone fall in love.“

“I Do Take Two” “Thirty years after their clandestine wedding on Naboo, Anakin and Padmé decide to finally do the proper wedding ceremony they never got to have, with all their friends and family present.“

“Flat Tire” “Who knew something as simple as getting a flat tire could change the entire course of your life?“

“Strays” “Anakin had always had a penchant for taking in strays.”

“Five weddings and a funeral” “Padmé's feeling gloomy about her perpetual singleness, but everything changes when she meets an attractive stranger at her sister's wedding.“

“Pipe Dream” “Padmé's new plumber is the most attractive human being she's ever laid eyes on, so naturally, she keeps faking plumbing emergencies so she can keep seeing him.“

“Birthdays and Birth days” “Anakin gets a birthday surprise — two of them, in fact.“

“Spouses with Benefits” “Anakin and Padmé wake up after a wild night in Vegas and discover they accidentally got married—and that Ahsoka posted about it all over social media, so now every single person they know is texting and calling them to offer congratulations. They decide to save face by pretending the marriage was totally 100% intentional and not a drunk mistake at all, keeping up the charade for six months, and then quietly getting divorced. But a lot can change in six months…“

“Two Halves Make a Whole” “Anakin is the single dad of Luke. Padme is the single mom of Leia. Luke and Leia meet in kindergarten and become best friends. The rest is history.“

“Home” “In which "Darth Vader" is no more than Anakin's playtime alter ego (happy Skywalker family AU)“

“Someday” “At age fourteen, Padme receives a marriage proposal from the nine-year-old boy next door and tells him to ask her again when she's thirty. Surely he'll have forgotten all about it by then.“

“Across the Centuries” “They meet each other in every century, but something always goes wrong before they can make it to happily-ever-after.”

“Madam President” “Between late nights and headaches and mountains of paperwork and fierce opposition from her political opponents, President Padmé Amidala already had enough on her plate. And then she just had to go and fall for one of her bodyguards, a relationship which would ruin her reputation and his career if anyone were to find out about it. Also, someone's trying to kill her.“

“Scars” “How do Anakin and Padmé go from "I love you" to "I do"? Missing scene from Attack of the Clones.”

“The Bet” “Anakin's had a crush on Padmé since fourth grade, and after putting up with his pining for seven years, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are finally stepping in and making a bet that he can't ask her to junior prom in the spring. Meanwhile, Padmé is realizing that Anakin isn't as annoying as she'd always thought. In fact, her feelings towards him are starting to go in quite the opposite direction...”

“Three” “His and Padmé’s first wedding anniversary isn’t going nearly as well as Anakin had hoped it would. Until, suddenly, it’s so much better than he could have ever imagined.“

“The Anakin Disaster” “Padmé is mortified upon waking up beside her strictly platonic childhood best friend Anakin Skywalker the morning after a drunken one-night stand. A couple weeks later, she discovers that's the least of their problems.“

“Will You Fake Marry Me?” “Anakin's boss may or may not have accidentally given her family the impression that she's engaged to him. Anakin may or may not be pleased about the situation”

“Aggressive Negotiations” “Empress Amidala invites Lord Vader to her private rooms to persuade him to form an alliance with the Empire. Her methods are very effective.”

“Troubling Implications” “Perhaps he hated himself for it—Padmé thought he probably did—but he came that night (several times, in fact). And the night after that, and the next one, and the next, until it became a habit that neither of them seemed especially inclined to break. (Sequel to "Aggressive Negotiations")

“Imperial Obligations” “Padmé's advisors suggest that she get rid of Vader and make a politically advantageous marriage. The Empress is less than pleased. (Sequel to "Aggressive Negotiations" and "Troubling Implications")”

“Welcome Home” “Anakin Skywalker closes his eyes on the face of his son. When he opens them again, he is in Naboo, and someone is waiting for him.“

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Writer: Shawn30 (Fanfiction profile) The one, the only, the deservedly famous! I think every Anidala fan is aware of this f a n t a s t i c writer’s work. Deliciously smutty. Unbelievably well written. Unfortunately, many of their works have been left uncompleted for years but the stories are still worth reading!

 “Whisper” “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but can also whither your soul and breed doubt in your heart. AP angsty erotica.”

“The Ties that Bind” “Given a brief period of time off during the Clone Wars, Padmé and Anakin visit her family at the Lake Country estate on Naboo. A family that still doesn't know they are married, although they are about to find out. Complete.” 

“The Light and the Dark” “Chapter 1 in the Hearts and Souls series. An unexpected Separatist attack 'accidentally' reunites two star-crossed lovers, giving them a brief moment of peace at a time of war. Complete.”

“Shadows of Winter” “Chapter 2 in the Hearts and Souls series. With six days to spend together celebrating their two year anniversary, Anakin and Padme travel separately to a remote planet in the Hoth system. Romance, passion, and danger await them. Complete.” 

 “Beloved” “Chapter 3 in the "Hearts and Souls" series. When faced with the most horrific news imaginable, Padme's utter desperation forces her to turn to Obi-Wan and even Chancellor Palpatine for help. Her greatest personal challenge awaits... Complete” 

 “Paradise” “The sequel to "Beloved." Following Padme's daring rescue of her husband, the Skywalker's return to Naboo for eight days to heal, unwind, spend time with family, and deal with their connection to the Dark Side of the Force.” 

 “Salvation” “After facing his moment of truth, Anakin and Padmé must finally deal with the consequences. Obi-Wan reveals a startling discovery. Complete” 

“Scandalous” “The sequel to Salvation. On the eve of Padmé Skywalker's official ascension to the role of Vice Chair of the Republic, Anakin steals her away for a wild vacation to Cloud City. Complete.”

“Sacred” “Chapter 2. Ahsoka and Jo'Seth grow closer. Padme's trip to the Jedi Temple on Republic business turns a bit more adventurous. Anakin and Obi-Wan have a heart to heart talk about moving forward.”

“Belonging” “A private afternoon lunch to catch up with an old friend during the Clone Wars reveals a great deal to ObiWan Kenobi. AP”

“Before the Seasons Change” “With the Darth Sidious finally defeated and the Clone Wars ended, Anakin and Padme consider what comes next in their lives. Anakin/Padme”

“Amor Vincit Omnia” “AU. After a three and a half year separation Vice Chair Amidala and Jedi Master Skywalker have some unfinished business as the Clone Wars have finally ended and Palpatine is dead.”

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If there’s any stories I missed, let me know!

[bat-lings]

Thoughts on StephCass?

(((one of those asks that are sooo old I’m lowkey ashamed lol. Still don’t have quite as much free time as I had when I started this blog, so I just cleaned up this ancient draft and called it a day. It feels kind of incomplete still but it’s the best I can do for now, my bad! Hope the answer’s decent enough!)))

One of those awesome ships I have 0 reason for not shipping other than personal taste tbh? I prefer to read them as best friends/sisters. But everything I have to say about them can be read with romantic lenses too so there! Their dynamic is the most precious things that’s for sure.

Cass’ character arc was in great part about learning to have an identity  outside of Batgirl. To live a life that was more than training in a cave by day and beating baddies by night. But also to prove to herself that she could be more than what her background made of her.

Steph, ever insecure, ever dismissed by the batfam, had to learn to trust in her own abilities. She wanted to prove to others and herself that she was cut for vigilantism, and that she was more than the Cluemaster’s daughter.

With that start-configuration, Cass immediately becomes an object of admiration for Steph.

[Robin (1993) #88]

She’s introduced to Steph as that perfect fighter, that unattainable goal, with a bat on her chest and a solid place in the fam. She’s everything Steph wants to be.

[Batgirl (2000) #26]

It’s adorable and highly telling that Steph imagines Cass’ presence to cheer her up, but the part that caught my attention is this: “You’ve got these insane abilities and […] you barely even look at me, much less talk…”

Steph craved contact with Cass from the start. She’s the main initiator in their dynamic since at this point Cassandra hardly cares about making friends or getting to know people outside of their masks— she was 100% okay with Bruce being just Batman for a good while and didn’t care to wonder who he was beyond that.

Cass is still that admirable but mysterious and distant figure that Steph craves to approach.

Yet that distance falls away and Steph gets to see grasps of the girl behind the mask. In Batgirl #16, Cass seeks Stephanie’s help because one of her investigation requires to read a clue. Which Cass can’t, her amazing fighting skills were obtained through abuse and great gaps in what’s normal knowledge for most people. It’s a glance into the not-so-glam reality behind the badass figure. Step by step, Steph is getting closer to the human being behind the mask.

And then there’s this:

[Batgirl (2000) #21]

I think that’s the moment Steph truly saw Cassandra, saw her beyond the ultimate fighter and icon. The distance broke, the image of the perfect warrior lets something else peek through— Cass is that young girl that shatters at the idea that she could’ve taken a life; she’s vulnerable and in need of reassurance.

Quickly enough, Cass saw Stephanie in turn.

[Batgirl (2000) #28]

I love that page. I love it so much. In just a few panels, Cass understands what took years (and the Batgirl mantle) for other batfam members to understand about Steph. How her determination and force of will can never be tamed. How that’s to be respected and admired too. How much sincerity she puts in whatever she’s doing.

In a way, each girl envies the other for what she feels she’s lacking. Steph envies Cass for her skills and place in the batclan. Cass envies Steph for having the normal(ish) life she doesn’t dare dream of.

[Batgirl (2000) #38]

That scene holds a lot of weight considering Cass’ tenuous story with physical & romantic attraction. It can be othering to feel like the only one ill-at-ease with something that seems to come so naturally for other people.

Yet they have so much in common too. They get each other in a way few other people can.

[Batgirl (2000) #28, #38 & #53]

Highlights: “When’s it going to stop, Cass? What’s it gonna take to get people like the Penguin out of our lives? our of her life?” But also: “Not bad for the daughter of an old failed bank-robber, eh?” Man can Cass sympathize with that. More than both having grown with abusive fathers, the girls are both about building a better destiny for themselves than the one that’s expected for them. Beating their backgrounds to become heroes, giving others, especially other kids, what they didn’t get to have in their childhood. For all their differences, Steph’s and Cass’ cores align.

But it’s more than that. They complement and inspire each other. They have a lot to teach, and a lot to bring to each other.

[Batgirl (2000) #27]

Babs tried time and time again to get Cass to let go and live outside of vigilantism. But Steph is the first one who actually succeeded. Her emotional competency is to be saluted (it’s what allowed her to breach through Damian’s walls too).

Steph brought Cass something that she didn’t even know she desperately needed. In a typically Steph fashion she carved her place in Cass’ heart without even realizing. For all that Steph was the initial motor to her relationship with Cass, her absence inevitably creates a void.

[Batgirl (2000) #28]

[Batgirl (2000) #58 & #67]

Much like Cass’ image was the one Steph summoned to give herself courage, Steph is always at a corner of Cass’ mind.

Cass found a friend at the moment where she desperately needed it, and Steph found someone who gets what is her greatest strength and respects her for it. They share a common will to emancipate from their circumstances and to prove themselves. Both their differences and similarities bring them together, and they made the best of it. I think they bring the best out of each other, they put each other up. It’s hands down one of my favorite dynamic in the batfam.

[escxpedes]

loopholes (fin.)

Remember when I said I’d post this like two days after the last part? No? Me neither... Sorry about the delay, I’ve had a severe lack of motivation. (It’s mental illness innit.) I feel like every part of this story gets longer and longer, and makes even less sense. If you haven’t read the other two parts, I recommend you do so. These technically can be read standalone, but I think it’s cuter when you read them knowing the context. Even though, again, they seem to make less sense the more I write. Lots of new information came about season 5, and it’s both nerve-racking and exciting at the same time! Three cheers for anxiety, amiright? Hope you all are doing well, I’m excited to hear the feedback on the last part of this series. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to write, I’m a sucker for prompts! x  

part one | part two

~

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system.

~

hands that wrap around my wrists, (and arms that feel like home.)

Shutting down the monitors she was using, Riley tries not to think about how her sleep deprivation affects her body. It’s one thing to work as a distraction, but the drag in her pace tells her this coping method is wearing her down.

How is she supposed to save innocent lives when she’s so exhausted.

And she is, exhausted, that is. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Every part of her is weightless, suspended in air, and it feels like she can’t do a single thing about it.

An irritating helplessness encompasses her, tightening its grasp on her sanity.

She wants to cry out, throw something, cause a scene. Instead, she buries her feelings deep in her subconscious and tries not to focus on how tight her chest is.

It’s an occupational hazard, she tells herself. It’s nothing she can’t handle, she repeats daily. It’s almost a mantra by now, echoing inside her head and ramping up what seems to be an infinite supply of determination.

It’s the only way.

Mac waits for her outside, leaning against the building while she locks up. Her vision is still kind of fuzzy due to lack of energy, and her body doesn’t seem to be completely awake yet. She can physically feel Mac’s concerned gaze burning a hole in her cranium as if staring hard enough will give him access to all recesses of her mind.

“Ready?”

She nods, feigning a smile, and bumping his shoulder with her own, “You never mentioned why you stopped by so late.”

Ignorance is bliss, right?

“I left my phone in the labs.” She can hear the exasperation in his voice; concern rushes forward and sends a pang through her heart.

Suddenly, she’s irritated too, not with Mac, but for Mac. He does the right thing for humanity despite all that humanity has done to him. She can’t imagine how frustrated he must be with the entire situation, once again putting the world before himself.

He’s had so little time to process everything.

She knows he could use a break but also knows that he won’t admit he needs one.

For how smart he is, he can be really stupid sometimes.

When she turns her head to look at him, she can tell she’s lost him to his own thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, his usually clear eyes unfocused, and his mouth is set in a grim line.

If she listens closely, she can almost hear the gears turning, working out possible solutions, and thinking through every outcome.

It’s not an uncommon expression.

She stops abruptly, “Hey.”

This seems to shake him from his trance, his eyes meeting hers in a questioning manner.

“You are doing the best you can under the circumstances, but pushing yourself too hard won’t solve anything,” Her hand finds its way to his arm and squeezes reassuringly, “You can take care of the planet, but make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

The look he gives her is so full of gratitude and affection that nearly every emotion that Riley’s fought to contain bursts through its confinement and surges through her body.

“Thank you.”

Her breath catches in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“What for?”

She really hopes the shaky breath that follows goes unnoticed.

“For always believing in me, no matter what.” His gaze is piercing, robbing the ability to form words from her throat.

She rakes her mind for something, anything, to say that will stop her from doing something she would totally, one hundred percent regret.

“It’s what Jack would do.”

It takes everything in her to break eye contact and shrug nonchalantly. Humor laces her tone, despite the sincerity of her statement. It is something Jack would do, something he taught her to believe in. Not necessarily in Mac, but what her gut is telling her.

It seems that in any given situation, before or after Jack’s departure, Mac’s intuition has always mirrored her own. Since the second he broke her out of prison, they always had the same values. Just like Jack, she learned how to read and understand Mac.

She knows how to interpret his rambling. She knows that no matter the situation, he’ll always put everyone else first. She knows that whatever crazy plan he’s come up with, it’s constructed with the best intentions.

She knows that no matter where he goes, and no matter what he does, her instinct is to trust him.

So she does.

With every ounce of her being. 

She desperately wants to share this with him, especially if it would probably make him feel better. However, she knows the second she starts talking, she won’t be able to stop. Mac’s got a way of doing that, translating her thoughts into words that tumble out of her before she can control what they might mean.

The grin Mac throws her, which conveys understanding and amusement, allows the tension between them to dissipate.

“Speaking of Jack, he would absolutely kill me if I let you drive home in your state.”

Before she can get a word in edgewise, he’s already opening the passenger side door of his truck. The tone in his voice leaves little room for debate, as if he’s ready to refute whatever argument she can muster up, so Riley doesn’t argue.

She wants to, but just the idea of operating a car sounds exhausting.

Besides, she’s missed this. She’s missed Mac, not just as someone she’s possibly in love with, but as her best friend. With everything going on, she’s hardly been able to see him.

The absence of him in her life hurts just as much as having him in it.

She literally can’t win.

The silence that follows is comfortable, the rumbling engine serving as white noise to Riley as she dozes off against the window.

She tries to, anyway. Driving with Mac is always an adventure, which is useful when trying to avoid being killed by a terrorist organization. Maneuvering Los Angeles traffic? Way, way less so.

“Maybe driving myself home wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.” She mumbles, fighting the urge to grab the handle above the door.

“Hey! I always get us home in one piece.”

“Physically maybe,” an amused smile finds its way to Riley’s face, “But mentally? I should sue you for psychological trauma.”

The look of disbelief that follows is enough to get her through several lifetimes, or it could be the smile he struggles to hide under his offended facade.

“Ouch,” Mac puts his left hand over his heart, “That hurts right here, Riles.”

The nickname throws her off, causing her stomach to flip. It’s just a silly name, it shouldn’t affect her like this, but her heart still clenches uncomfortably.

She attempts to brush it off, trying for a humoring grin that feels more like a grimace.

Though the comfortable atmosphere doesn’t change, the playful energy is replaced by more silence. As buildings pass outside, all Riley can think about is how much she hates silence. Man, what she would do just to get rid of it for a little bit. It’s constant these days, and it always finds her no matter where she goes.

Her fingers tug at her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’s recently adopted, as she tries to think through possible solutions to the predicament she’s found herself in.

She must be pretty engrossed because it takes her a minute to realize Mac’s spoken again.

“What?” Her brain slows down enough to pick out his words, something about how much sleep she’s gotten recently, “Oh, I don’t know.”

She tries not to notice how concerned he looks when he asks, “You don’t know?”

Not really

Logically, she knows that she sleeps almost every night. How long? It’s hard to tell sometimes. If she’s lucky, she can get a couple hours in before her brain goes into hyperdrive. Other times, she’d rather be doing something productive on her rig instead of staring at her ceiling fan.

She props her elbow against the window and rests her head in her hand, “I guess it hasn’t been a priority.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see him open his mouth and close it abruptly, trying to find the right words to comfort or soothe her.

As always, Mac is trying to rectify the situation.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She doesn’t miss the parallel and throws him the same reclusive look he had given her on multiple occasions.

“That’s my line.”

There’s an irritating tension that fills the space, like the feeling you get when you can’t get past a certain level on a video game. It’s a little stifling, urging Riley to do whatever it takes to make it disappear.

“C’mon Riley, you’ve been off ever since, you know, the whole codex situation. At first, I thought, well, it was kind of traumatizing for everyone involved, but then you moved out and,” He trails off, and she can physically see him putting all the working components together, “Is it the apartment?”

God, she wished it was just the apartment. Sure, it plays a part in all her problems right now, but she knows that it’s more of what the empty apartment represents than the apartment itself.

Still, she’s glad he came to that conclusion. It’s easier to lie to him when it doesn’t pertain to the actual issue at hand.

“The apartment’s fine,” she says after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s the AC unit, isn’t it?” His lips compress shortly before he shakes his head, “I knew I should have looked at it.”

As he starts ranting about the condenser coils in her air conditioner and how easy it is for them to get dirty, Riley can’t help but let a soft laugh fall from her lips.

“Mac, it’s not my air conditioning.”

When he opens his mouth to respond, she holds her hand up to stop him. “It’s not my heater either, or my ceiling fan, or anything that might require your unique expertise.”

“But it has something to do with the apartment.”

The statement is blanketed in excitement as if he knows he’s getting closer to uncovering the truth. He’s always been so obsessed with knowledge and learning, never quite capable of letting things go and living in ignorance.

His eyes light up with child-like curiosity; it’s highly annoying and endearing at the same time.

She feels her self control loosening.

With Mac, she feels secure, like maybe she can put herself back together again. She could confess to a crime, and he wouldn’t look at her any differently.

That helplessness kicks back in, tearing her apart from the inside.

When he slows to a stop in front of her complex, she hasn’t answered him yet.

In the back of her mind, she’s a little proud of herself for only joking about his driving once in the ten minutes it took to get there.

She stares at the lobby entrance and can feel the soft flannel of his shirt, giving him a hug before she exits his truck. She can hear the sleepiness in her voice as she leans against the door and tells him goodnight. She can see herself walk through the double doors and not turning around.

She can see it so clearly, but she remains planted in the passenger seat.

Fear tangles itself in her shoulders, in her stomach, in her heart.

Not just because she dreads the idea of spending another night counting the minutes before her alarm goes off, but because she doesn’t want to leave with their friendship in this state.

She just wants everything to go back to normal, to get back some semblance of their old friendship before she knew how she felt.

Mac waits beside her, a patient and comforting presence.

“It’s just so quiet. Up there, it’s just me and my thoughts. They never cease or quiet down; it’s a constant loop. I try listening to music or watching TV, but I can never focus on any of it. Then, I start panicking because I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. There’s no comfort, no stability. I’m just… alone.”

With every word, a little of the weight falls from her shoulders.

It almost feels like she can breathe again.

“The only time I don’t feel like that is when I’m working,” she clenches her hands in her lap, “At Phoenix, I can get to any room in the dark with my eyes closed, and I’m constantly surrounded by people I’ve known for years. It feels… safe.”

Mac’s silent, reaching over to grasp one of her hands.

“You don’t feel safe here?” He encloses her left hand between his own and squeezes, the pressure and warmth spreading through her body like wildfire.

She meets his eyes, “Not in the way that matters.”

He turns the truck off, hopping out before Riley can say anything else. He walks around the hood of the car and pulls the passenger door open, “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

He helped her out of the truck, “You trust me, right?”

More than he’ll ever know.

“You know I do.” She eyed him suspiciously as he opened one of the complex’s doors for her, following as she entered.

“From what I can recall, Bozer got you a Nintendo Switch for your birthday earlier this year. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of destroying you in Super Smash Bros.”

His voice was quiet, trying not to disturb the people trying to sleep.

“First of all, you’ve never destroyed me in Super Smash Bros, and you never will if you keep playing with Luigi,” She grinned, watching as he shook his head in disagreement, “And second of all, it’s two in the morning.”

He shrugged, “That’s never stopped us before.”

He wasn’t wrong, but things were different now.

Riley tried not to think about Desi, wrapped up in Mac’s bed, peacefully sleeping and blissfully unaware of this entire exchange.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

It didn’t matter anyway because clearly, Riley had issues with saying “no” to Angus Macgyver.

“Fine, but prepare to get your ass beaten.”

He grinned triumphantly, “That sounds like a challenge.”

She unlocked her apartment door, stepping into the dark and quiet entryway. She faltered a little bit, her heartbeat quickening with newfound anxiety.

As always, the apartment radiated energy that always put Riley out of place.

Mac closed the door behind him, helping himself to any food he could find in her fridge. There was an intimacy to it, a closeness that made the apartment much more bearable. Her shoulders dropped a little, the anxiety easing a little as she took a deep breath.

She busied herself in the living room, connecting the switch to her TV and grabbing a variety of different pillows and blankets.

It was, after all, a tradition for these types of events.

Mac joined her after a couple of minutes with two beers, “Your fridge is worse than mine.”

“Will you get it started,” Riley ignore his comment, handing him one of the controllers, “ I’m going to change.”

When she returned in a comfy ensemble of leggings and a sweatshirt, Mac was scrolling through the character list. She hopped the back of the couch to sit next to him, watching as he hovered over Luigi for what feels like an eternity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mac’s determined expression didn’t falter, “You’re just jealous of my skills.”

Those skills proved to be no match for Riley’s, though, after she managed to beat him in the first game. It became much more entertaining when she did it again in the second. She tried not to laugh, but it became nearly impossible with his onslaught of complaints.

“You’re such a cheater, you can’t do that!” He pressed down hard on the keys as if smashing them harder will make Luigi speed up.

Jokes on him, Luigi was the slowest character in the game.

Very slowly, her exhaustion began to creep up on her. She knew she was done for when Mac actually managed to beat her. He seemed just as surprised as she was, but he suggested switching to a movie anyway.

They ended up choosing a documentary, something that Mac had been interested in watching recently. Riley didn’t care what they watched, as long as she got to lay down.

Mac placed a pillow in his lap and tapped it gently.

“So, was this your plan,” She comfortably adjusted her body, so her neck wasn’t in an awkward position propped up on the pillow.

In front of them, a monotone voice explained the phenomena surrounding the universe.

“Homo Sapiens are social creatures; we need people to survive,” Riley could feel Mac’s fingers coursing through her waves, creating a soothing pattern that calmed any remaining tension in her body. 

“You feel comfortable at Phoenix, sitting around the fire pit at my house, or spending time with the team at the arcade because we’re there. It’s okay to need us, Riles, because trust me, we need you, too.”

Mac’s words barely resonate with her, and she hummed noncommittally in response.

His fingers gently combed through the tangles at the nape of her neck, “I don’t think we build homes in material things like houses or apartments, but rather, in the people we surround ourselves with.”

Laying there, with her head on his lap and his fingers in her hair, Riley could only think one thing:

He couldn’t be more right. 

[chalkrevelations]

Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

[crispyjenkins]

Somehow!adopted by a true mandalorian before Galidraan/korda six Obiwan.. so like raised mandalorian Obiwan with Jango/Jaster leading Mandalore

(mmmmf okay I love this sort of au and i tried my best to make it as different as possible from stories that already exist (specifically @atelier-dayz's WiP Ben'bajur) and I've thrown in some good women Mandos because they deserve to be written more. some stuff in timeline has been moved around and you get trans Obi just for funsies *kissu* i make several references to this post’s discussion of mental and physical illness in Mando culture. i um. spent a lot of time thinking about what colour Obi’s beskar’gam would be. i have a lot of feelings about it. **Ruusaan Kryze’s name and fancast/design belong to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone from this, thank you so much for letting me use them!)

  Jango had not mentally prepared himself to see Obi-Wan again, though to be fair, he hadn’t known he needed to.

  The last time he’d seen Ruusaan’s foundling, Obi-Wan had been sixteen and wiry and spitfire in all the wrong ways, with half-complete beskar’gam and a chip on his shoulder a planet-wide. If he remembers correctly, Obi-Wan had called him an arrogant laserbrain with a junk blaster, and Jango had almost challenged him to an honor duel. But when Jango finally makes his way back to Mandalore after seven— Wait, no, eight years?— abroad as a supercommando, both Ruusaan and Obi-Wan are at Jaster's war table, bent over a holomap of the system and talking calmly as you please. 

  And Obi-Wan is in full beskar'gam, plating painted entirely silver except the yellow clan crest on his left pectoral, and the yellow Mando'a 'ures haal', breathless, lettered on his ghet'bur above his collarbone. He looks up as Jango enters and blinks in surprise, straightening to reveal his helmet under his arm, also silver except the rises of the cheeks.

  Ruusaan breaks into a smile, and for all the trouble Obi-Wan had caused when younger, Jango can’t imagine his childhood without the former Kryze and all she had done for the Haat Mando’ade at the Battle of Galidraan. She’s been following Jaster since she was old enough to denounce her clan, an honorary Mereel even if she thinks herself unworthy of such a connection to her Mand’alor; Jango wonders if she had finally decided on a clan name, if both her and Obi-Wan are painted with a new crest.

  For all the loving buir Jaster is, he doesn’t drag things out, and after a quick hug, he pulls Jango into their discussion of relief aid to Concordia after the latest Death Watch insurgence as if Jango had never left. Ruusaan quickly picks up their easy friendship, closer to siblings than superior and subordinate, but Jango absolutely does not know what to do with Obi-Wan’s new calm cadence, the confidence and knowledge that he’s picked up in Jango’s absence. 

  He’s surprisingly been running relief missions for Jaster for the last five years, when he isn’t busy taking commando missions with Ruusaan. Obi-Wan gets flustered when his buir mentions this, and Jango wonders what in Sith Hells had happened while he was gone to make Obi-Wan settle down so much from his youth.

  His newly-flat chest probably has something to do with it.

  Perhaps it isn’t surprising, then, that Obi-Wan somehow wrangles Jango onto the squad of commandos headed for Concordia, Ruusaan smirking in delight as Jango resigns himself to suffering for the next tenday at least. Obi-Wan just claps him on the shoulder before disappearing into the halls of Jaster’s estate, and something in Jango aches at just how much of his armour is silver, at the sort of intention that went into an almost monochrome set of beskar’gam. Perhaps not much had actually changed, then.

-

  He should have known any mission to Concordia would go to kriffing hell, especially with Duke Kryze ramping up his antagonism of Death Watch like it won’t be the Haat Mando’ade that pay the price. 

  What should have been a simple drop-off of medical supplies to a few refugee groups turns into a firefight with Kyr’tsad, Ruusaan missing her thigh guards and Jango down a blaster, and all three of them ducking into the first empty ship in the guest hangar in hopes of losing their tail. 

  Ruusaan slams the button for the door, Jango aiming his remaining blaster at the catwalk until they’re safely ensconced in the dark of some other Mando’s ship, straining their ears for the sound of anyone still following them. Pulling off her helmet, Ruusaan checks the lifesign reader she keeps in her gauntlet, and then grumbles something about interference that doesn’t fill Jango with confidence. He pulls up his comm to try and contact the nearest Haat Mando’ad, but doesn’t get the chance before a wet wheeze rattles the silence of the cargo bay and Ruusaan whips around with a horrified,

  “Obi-Wan.”

  She rushes to Obi-Wan’s side, where he leans one hand onto the nearest wall in an effort to keep upright, and oh, Jango had forgotten just how harrowing this was. 

  Ruusaan removes Obi-Wan’s helmet with practiced ease, setting it aside to pull a rag from one of his belt pouches, holding it to his bleeding nose as she tilts his head forward. Kriff, but Jango hasn’t seen Ruusaan need to use the Force on her foundling since Obi-Wan was a kid, though he knows it must have happened more often behind closed doors. The years since he’s had to stand by and watch Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs has only made it that much harder to stomach. 

  Only Jaster knows the whole story of how Obi-Wan had ended up with Ruusaan, just what infection had festered in his lungs before she found him that had ruined him for the rest of his life. Jango has heard rumours that he had been on Melida/Daan during the civil war, that Ruusaan had taken a job from the Young and left with a sick foundling, that his system had been so damaged that he can’t handle a transplant. And Jango’s seen it before, Obi-Wan’s lungs suddenly failing and scaring the osik out of every Mando present, even if they had made note of the marker on his collar. 

  By some sort of Force miracle, Obi-Wan had been found by one of the only Force-sensitive Mando’ade that Jango has ever heard of, with just enough power to force her ad’s respiratory system back to rights, almost as if she had been meant to find him.

  Obi-Wan coughs as Ruusaan presses one hand to the front of his chest, the other between his shoulder blades; Jango feels almost dizzy with something that feels too close to worry, the hair on his neck standing up at the swell of the Force in the tiny cargo bay. 

  “K’atini,” Ruusaan whispers, pressing her forehead to Obi-Wan’s temple with a touch of desperation. “K’atini, ad’ika, breathe.” A beat of tense quiet, but then— 

  “K’atini,” Obi-Wan wheezes back, and Jango lets out the breath he’d been holding. Ruusan laughs wetly, pulling back just enough to finish wiping under his nose, and brushes his hair back with her free hand; Jango feels a ping of jealousy, but forces it to the background, at least until they can get back to Mandalore.

  “We need to get back to the ship,” Ruusaan says to Jango, all while Obi-Wan won’t meet his eye. “He’ll be fine for a while, but I can’t give him what oxygen he’s lost.”

  Now this, this Jango can do. He can step up and lead, protect those that are his aliit in everything but name, because this is action, and not just standing there watching someone’s body give up on them. “You good to run?” Jango asks on external comm, Obi-Wan looking to his buir before giving a short nod. Ruusaan purses her lips, but nods as well and stoops to pick up her helmet. 

  “Not for long,” she warns, giving Obi-Wan his own before setting her hand back between his shoulderblades. “But the Force is telling me there’s no one outside; we move now.”

  Jango trusts Obi-Wan to Ruusaan and swiftly leads the way back into the hangar, taking them through two halls and across a catwalk to get to their own ship’s berth; Obi-Wan punches in the key for the door, and lets Jango pull him up into the ship without complaint. Ruusaan is the best pilot out of the three of them, but Jango climbs into the cockpit to start the pre-flight sequence so she can get Obi-Wan set up in the single-bed medbay, because kriff if Jango would know where to start. 

  Ruusaan joins him in the cockpit just before take off, some of Duke Kryze leaking through in her stony expression as she drops into the open seat. “Jango,” she says, surprisingly calm for the situation, “please go make sure my utreekov of an ad doesn’t leave the medbay.”

 Technically Ruusaan has been Haat Mando’ade longer than Jango, but she isn’t that much older than him, and he’s the son of the Mand’alor, so she shouldn’t be able to order him around like one of her foundlings. But Jango is also a warrior, and he knows when to pick his battles, so he simply nods and lets her get them out of the hangar.

  The medbay is little bigger than a closet, and like most, there's just enough equipment for emergencies, but Ruusaan and Obi-Wan had retrofitted theirs to include a proper ventilator and oxygen tank, as well as a bacta vaporizer Jango has never seen outside of high end Kaledevan hospitals. Luckily Obi-Wan seems resigned to his fate, propped up in the little alcove bed and holding an oxygen mask over his face. He glances up, but only gives Jango a nod and an apologetic smile. 

  “How often does that happen?” Jango musters the courage to ask, leaning on the doorjamb. Obi-Wan laughs tiredly, his mask fogging as he thumps his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. 

  “Not as much as before,” he says vaguely, his voice still a rasp. “The surgery helped.”

  If he’s still dealing with kriffing dying on a monthly basis, Jango is thoroughly impressed he’s been able to serve so close to Jaster for so long, and kriff knows Jaster isn’t soft, so Jango knows whatever space Obi-Wan occupies with the Mand'alor is earned, no matter who his buir is. It seems Jango’s missed quite a lot, off exploring the stars.

  Obi-Wan gets a little smile, then, dropping his hand but not opening his eyes. “If I recall... the last time we spoke alone like this—”

  “You called me a laserbrain and told me my blaster was sub-par.”

  He barks out a laugh that’s more like a cough, trying to work off his chest- and backplate; Jango watches him struggle for all of a moment before sighing and pushing the rest of the way into the room to help. Obi-Wan smiles all young and stupid up at him, and from this close, it lodges something in Jango’s throat.

  Breathless, indeed. 

Mando’a: beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy ures haal — breathless, lit. "without breath" ghet'bur — the collar piece of the chest plate on some beskar'gam, sitting over the shoulders and below the throat. a form of gorget. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians buir — “parent”, gender neutral Kyr’tsad — Death Watch osik — impolite form of “dung”, shit ad — “child”, gender neutral  ’ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends utreekov — idiot, fool, lit. "empty head" K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.” aliit — family, clan

(beskar’gam colour meanings here; Obi’s silver means seeking redemption, and yellow is for remembrance)

[ouyangzizhensdad]

As a mdzs/novel canon reader, how do you feel about the roles of Wen Ning and Wen Qing in mdzs vs cql?

I think one of the most important thing (for me) when thinking about how wn and wq are explored in cql is to remember the following two factors:

1. While the actress denied it, it seems that wq was indeed supposed to be a love interest for wwx in cql before fans made a fuss about it on social media: this is supported by the fact she was introduced as a main character in early talks of the series, the actress got the biggest $$ contract after xz and wyb, we got some leaked photos from set showing scenes that were filmed or were intended to be filmed but didn’t end up in the final cut of the series, and the simple reality that wq’s presence in the story was increased significantly (while her impact on the plot remained the same). Tbh that they chose to cast meng ziyi and introduced (and kept) a frankly bizarre (on a thematic and plot level) romance subplot between jc and her is proof enough for me that she was supposed to be a love interest for wwx (albeit a tragic one).  

2. CQL fundamentally modified the role of the Wens within the narrative by changing the whole subplot about modao, which then altered the role of wq and wn to a degree, and with which characters they interacted and when.

For me, these had an impact on the overall quality of the storytelling, particularly in regards to wq and her character (under the cut because I don’t know how to be brief).

WEN QING:

1. Even if she had been instructed by the director to play wq as close to possible to the way she was portrayed in the novel, I don’t think Meng Ziyi could have done it; for me, she doesn’t have the right presence, physicality, etc. to achieve a good performance of wq. Novel wq has such strong boss energy; she is high-ranking officer even if she is removed from the fighting, the best doctor, and someone who was in charge of the yiling supervision office, and she’s constantly snapping at people (I love novel!wq.........). Meng Ziyi just does not manage to embody that powerful energy--she has that female lead type of presence, and it just doesn’t mesh with who wq is.

Wen Ning nodded, somewhat embarrassed, “My sister. She’s really powerful.”

She was indeed powerful.

Wen Qing could be considered a famous cultivator of the QishanWen Sect. She wasn’t a daughter of the QishanWen Sect’s leader, Wen Ruohan, but instead the daughter of one of Wen Ruohan’s cousins. Although they were far cousins, Wen Ruohan had always had a close relationship to this cousin of his. On top of that, Wen Qing was exceptional in the liberal arts and studied medicine as well. She was a talent, and thus she was rather favored by Wen Ruohan. She often followed Wen Ruohan to the banquets of the QishanWen Sect, which was why Wei Wuxian found her face familiar. She was a beauty, after all. He had also heard from somewhere that she had an elder or younger brother. But, perhaps because he wasn’t as talented as Wen Qing, not many people talked about him.

2. In my opinion, making the wq a more active agent in the wen plot also takes away part of what defines her arc and character in the novel, and what she represents as a figure within the conflict. Let’s remember, we are only introduced to wq in the novel after Lotus Pier was burned down and jc lost his core--she is absent until then, and that is the point: she is not involved in the conflict. While morally upright, she is someone who passively benefits from the ills committed by her sect and who only takes calculated risks to help reduce the suffering committed to others. She becomes guilty by association despite never actively hurting others or helping wrh’s cause. It feels more organic and complex than the throne-room!threats we see in cql, and having her carry on missions for wrh.

Wen Qing cut him off, “What the Wen Sect does doesn’t represent what we do. We don’t need to be responsible for the Wen Sect’s wrongdoing. Wei Ying, there’s no need to look at me like that. There’s a beginning to all debts. I’m the office leader of Yiling, but I was ordered to take the position. I’m a medic, an apothecary, I’ve never killed anyone, much less touched the blood of the Jiang Sect.”

It was true. Nobody had heard of any lives lost by Wen Qing’s hands. There were always many cases that people wanted her to take over. It was because Wen Qing was one of the Wen Sect’s people whose way of doing things was actually normal. At times she could even put in a few good words for people in front of Wen Ruohan. Her reputation had always been good.

/////

Lan Xichen responded a moment later. “I have heard of Wen Qing’s name a few of times. I do not remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign’s crimes.” 

“But she’s never stopped them either, “ Nie Mingjue countered.

“Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHan’s most trusted people, “ said Lan Xichen. “How could she have stopped them?” 

Nie Mingjue spoke coldly. “If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it’s the same as indifference. She shouldn’t have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out.” 

[...] One of the sect leaders spoke up, “What Nie-zongzhu said is quite right. Besides, Wen Qing is one of Wen RuoHan’s most trusted people. You’re telling me she never participated? Well I don’t buy it. Is there any Wen-gao without a single drop of blood on their hands? Maybe it’s just that we haven’t found out about it yet!”

3. Making wq interact with other characters before the qiongqi path incident also makes their motivations harder to understand. For instance, jc having feelings for wq makes his motivations and actions during the aftermath of the sunshot campaign more muddled, imo? In the novel, instead, jc’s unwillingness to help the wen remnants is used to showcase a foil between jc’s and wwx’s understandings of duty/responsibility:

“You burn this corpse right now and return to them all these leftovers of the Wen Sect. That’s the only way to make the subject die!” As Jiang Cheng spoke, he raised his sword again, preparing to attack.

Wei Wuxian clenched his wrist.

“Are you joking?! If we return Wen Qing and the others to them, they’d meet nothing but a dead end!”

“I doubt you’ll even return all of them. Why do you care what kind of end they meet? A dead end it is, then—what does it have to do with you?!”

Wei Wuxian finally lost his temper. “Jiang Cheng! What- What do you think you’re talking about?! Take it back—don’t make me give you a thrashing! Don’t forget. Who was the one that helped us burn Jiang-shushu’s and Yu-furen’s corpses? Who returned to us the ashes that are in Lotus Pier right now? And who took us in when we were chased after by Wen Chao?!”

Jiang Cheng, “I’m the one who fucking wants to give you a thrashing! Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism! No matter who they are, with a surname of Wen they have committed a most heinous crime! And those who protect the Wen are at risk of being condemned by everyone! All the people loathe the Wen-dogs so badly that the worse they die the better. Whoever protects them is against the entire world. Nobody would speak for them, and nobody would speak for you either!”

4. Adding more screen time for wq and more interactions with other characters prior to/during the sunshot campaign ends up adding nothing in terms of her arc or her impact on the plot. While wq is a secondary character in the novel, she is crucial to the plot: her skills and her agency shape so many crucial moments and events in mdzs. Take away pretty much any scene with wq in the novel, and the events of the novel have to change. However, when it comes to what has been added in cql to make her more prominent in the series, it does not feel like it brings anything of significance to the plot. In the end, what is the point of the hair comb moment? it never sways jc to help or feel really conflicted over not helping the wen remnants? it never changes anything about the way wq acts? jc doesn’t come to wq’s defense at jinlintai the way lwj does. At best, it just adds to jc’s manpain. In the end, what’s the point of having a cute moment between wq and jyl, except to reassure viewers that wq is a good person and cares for her brother (all things we known in the novel in spite of the absence of this scene). In the end, what is the point of spending screentime with wq looking for the yin iron in the cloud recesses, and wwx being suspicious of her, if anyway lwj and him stumble upon it by chance? If wq were the love interest, it would make more sense to just pad up her screen time in the series, and these moments would probably pay off more. But as it is, it just feels very aimless and even at times confusing. 

5. i 100% headcanon novel wq as a lesbian and the fact that they even suggest she might have feelings for jc is an attack on my gay rights ): 

WEN NING:

1. Gosh I love wn. I think his role in the novel is so important and i have too much to say to end up saying anything remotely coherent. I also have to say that I love the actor they chose. Of all the casting choices, I’d even say it is the best of the entire series in my opinion. He really captures the essence of wn and he looks so adorable. So cute. 

2. Overall, i think cql did not change too much in terms of his arc and characterisation (the shy but fiercely protective person, coming to terms with what he lost, finding wen yuan and reconnecting with his history, finding a path of his own instead of following his sister/wwx). However I do find that some of the interactions are more meaningful in the novel. For example, making wwx and wn’s first interaction happen in the cloud recesses takes away the importance of wwx standing up against wn’s own sect members on their own turf. The fact that wwx and wn see each other more in the CQL verse also undermines the weight of wn’s choice and how significant wwx’s actions and words were to him, since he was ready to go against his sect for someone he’d met once. Once!!!! It says so much about wn and what his life was like--and how much impact wwx’s acts of kindness and care could have. If I let myself I would just end up quoting back most of Poison - part 4.Okay, I will just quote this part:

Red seeped through Wen Qionglin’s face to even the bottom of his ears. There was no need for others to beckon him away; he fled self-consciously. Wei Wuxian chased after him, “Hey, don’t run! Uh… Qionglin-xiong right? Why are you running?”

Hearing his name called from behind him, Wen Qionglin finally stopped. Head hanging low, he turned around. It seemed as though shame rippled from his head to his toes as he stammered, “… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you telling me you’re sorry?”

“You… You recommended me… but I made you lose face…”

“How did it make me lose face? You haven’t really shot in front other people, have you? You were nervous?”

Wen Qionglin nodded. Wei Wuxian continued, “Have some confidence. Let me tell you the truth—you shoot better than everyone in your sect. Out of all of the disciples whom I’ve seen, no more than three people are better in archery than you.”

3. I do wish wn as the ghost general was scarier and more violent in cql, but they tamed all of the horror/violent/gory aspects of the novel so it was to be expected. I just love contrasts.............

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

13th September >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 7:1-10 for Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Not even in Israel have I found faith like this’.

Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA)

Luke 7:1-10

Give the word, and my servant will be healed.

When Jesus had come to the end of all he wanted the people to hear, he went into Capernaum. A centurion there had a servant, a favourite of his, who was sick and near death. Having heard about Jesus he sent some Jewish elders to him to ask him to come and heal his servant. When they came to Jesus they pleaded earnestly with him. ‘He deserves this of you’ they said ‘because he is friendly towards our people; in fact, he is the one who built the synagogue.’ So Jesus went with them, and was not very far from the house when the centurion sent word to him by some friends: ‘Sir,’ he said ‘do not put yourself to trouble; because I am not worthy to have you under my roof; and for this same reason I did not presume to come to you myself; but give the word and let my servant be cured. For I am under authority myself, and have soldiers under me; and I say to one man: Go, and he goes; to another: Come here, and he comes; to my servant: Do this, and he does it.’ When Jesus heard these words he was astonished at him and, turning round, said to the crowd following him, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found faith like this.’ And when the messengers got back to the house they found the servant in perfect health.

Gospel (USA)

Luke 7:1-10

Not even in Israel have I found such faith.

When Jesus had finished all his words to the people, he entered Capernaum. A centurion there had a slave who was ill and about to die, and he was valuable to him. When he heard about Jesus, he sent elders of the Jews to him, asking him to come and save the life of his slave. They approached Jesus and strongly urged him to come, saying, “He deserves to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation and he built the synagogue for us.” And Jesus went with them, but when he was only a short distance from the house, the centurion sent friends to tell him, “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof. Therefore, I did not consider myself worthy to come to you; but say the word and let my servant be healed. For I too am a person subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, Go, and he goes; and to another, Come here, and he comes; and to my slave, Do this, and he does it.” When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him and, turning, said to the crowd following him, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” When the messengers returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.

Reflections (7)

(i) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

It is said in today’s gospel reading that Jesus was astonished at the faith of the Roman centurion, ‘I tell you not even in Israel have I found faith like this’. The centurion had just shown a trusting faith in the power of Jesus’ word to heal his servant from a distance, ‘Give the word and let my servant be cured’. The church has shared the astonishment of Jesus at the faith of this pagan because his act of faith has made its way into the text of the Mass. We say a version of the centurion’s words just before we receive the Lord in the Eucharist. Jesus sometimes found great faith in unexpected quarters and often failed to find faith where he had most expected to find it. In a sense, the faith of the centurion exemplifies the faith we are all called to have. He believed and trusted in the power of Jesus’ word, even when Jesus was not physically present to him. Jesus is not physically present to us either and, yet, like the centurion, we are asked to believe and trust in his word. The gospels show that, when it comes to Jesus, physical seeing is not always believing, whereas there can be believing in the absence of physical seeing, as was the case with the centurion. At the end of John’s gospel, Jesus declares blessed those who have not seen and yet believe, a beatitude that embraces us all. Jesus may not be physically present to us, but he is present to us in creation, in his Word, in the Sacraments, in the community of faith, deep within our own hearts, through the Holy Spirit. All these ways that the Lord is present to us is a sufficient basis for our faith, the kind of trusting faith displayed by the Roman centurion in today’s gospel reading.

And/Or

(ii) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The words of the centurion in today’s gospel reading have made their way into our Eucharist, ‘I am not worthy to have you under my roof... give the word and let my servant be cured’. In fact the new translation of the Roman Missal is much closer to the words of the centurion that the translation we are familiar with, ‘Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed’. The new translation is a more literal translation of the original Latin text of the Roman Missal. The Roman centurion spoke as a pagan who did not want Jesus the Jew to be in breach of the Jewish Law by entering the house of a pagan. He also showed tremendous faith in the life-giving power of Jesus’ word. Jesus acknowledges his remarkable faith and declares it to be greater than any faith he had found in Israel. The least likely person, a pagan, an authoritative member of the occupying force, shows faith in Jesus. The gospel reading suggests that faith can be found in the most unlikely of people. We can never second guess who is a person of faith and who is not. This outsider’s act of faith can become ours at every Eucharist.

 And/Or

 (iii) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

In the time of Jesus, Roman soldiers would have been considered the enemy by most Jews, and Roman soldiers would have considered Jews their enemy. In today’s gospel reading we have a Roman soldier, a Roman centurion, who breaks that mould. He built the local Jewish synagogue, according to the Jewish leaders who approach Jesus on his behalf. He is a very good example of someone who lives the call of Jesus to love the enemy. What really strikes Jesus about this centurion is his remarkable faith, ‘Not even in Israel have I found faith like this’. The Roman centurion sensed that Jesus, a Jew, might not want to enter the house of a pagan, and so he sent a second delegation to Jesus asking him to heal his servant at a distance, by means of his word, ‘I am not worthy to have you under my roof... but give the word and let my servant be cured’. These words have made their way into our Eucharist. We recite a version of them before we receive Holy Communion. Isn’t it strange that the words of a pagan, of a Roman centurion, should find such a prominent place in our celebration of the Eucharist? Jesus found faith in all kinds of unexpected places. It is the same today. Faith finds expression in all sorts of ways among all sorts of people. Jesus was astonished at the faith of this pagan. The gospel invites us to allow ourselves to be astonished at the depth of faith to be found in unexpected people. The Roman centurion was a religious outsider from the Jewish perspective. Sometimes great faith can be found among those who may not be seen as members of the faith community. The Lord works in mysterious ways in the lives of others. We need to be as open as Jesus was to seeing faith in unexpected people.

 And/Or

(iv) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The Roman centurion in today’s gospel reading is one of the very attractive characters in the gospel story. He exemplifies the call of Jesus to love the enemy. The Jewish leaders tell Jesus that he is friendly towards the Jewish people, the enemies of Rome at the time, and that he went so far as to build the local synagogue. He also displays a level of faith in Jesus that Jesus said he had never come across in Israel. Indeed, a version of the words that the centurion addresses to Jesus has make its way into our own celebration of the Eucharist, ‘I am not worthy to have you under my roof’, he says to Jesus, ‘but give the word and let my servant be cured’. The gospel reading says that Jesus was astonished at this Roman officer. In the gospels it is generally the other way around. People are described as astonished at Jesus. Jesus was astonished to find such faith in someone who would have been regarded as a pagan. The gospel reading reminds us that deep faith can be found in unexpected quarters, even if it is not expressed in conventional ways. The Lord had the capacity to recognize goodness and openness to his presence, wherever it was to be found. He saw the good, even in the enemy, the outsider, and named it. We pray for something of that same generous vision in our own lives.

 And/Or

(v) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The centurion in today’s gospel comes across as an exemplary character. As a man of some means he had servants, one of whom was seriously ill. He clearly had a personal, indeed, loving relationship with this servant; he would do all he could to help his servant. This pagan was also very generous towards the Jewish people among whom he lived. We learn that he built the local synagogue in Capernaum. He evidently had a very positive view of the Jewish religion. He also had a very striking relationship with Jesus. Although the centurion was a respected figure in the community and was a man of authority, he did not consider himself worthy to have Jewish, a Jew, visit his pagan household. Although he was the social superior of others, the centurion considered himself Jesus’ inferior, ‘I am not worthy...’. He also displayed an extraordinary faith and trust in the power of Jesus’ word. He believed that Jesus could heal his servant at a distance by means of his word, without having to come and lay his hands on his servant, the normal mode of healing. This pagan military officer is in many respects a very attractive figure. It is no surprise that Jesus says that he had never come across such faith even in Israel. We can all learn something from this man, from his kindness to others, his respect for the Jewish faith, and his faith in the power of Jesus’ word. It is perhaps only fitting that a version of the words of such an exemplary character should now form part of the text of our Eucharist, ‘Lord, I am not worthy...’

And/Or

 (vi) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time 

In today’s first reading, Paul gives us a very generous vision of God. He declares that God wants everyone to be saved and reach full knowledge of the truth. God desires all of humanity to hear the truth of the gospel. Paul articulates that gospel truth in a very succinct way in our reading: There is only one God, and there is only one mediator between God and humanity, Christ Jesus who sacrificed himself for our sins - who gave himself through his life and especially his death so that we might be reconciled to God. This truth of the gospel is so rich that no one of us will ever fully exhaust its meaning in this life. In today’s gospel reading, God’s generous vision for humanity meets with a very generous response from a non-Jew, a pagan centurion. This pagan had a deep appreciation of the Jewish faith. According to the gospel reading, he paid for the building of the synagogue in Capernaum, the foundations of which can still be seen today. He clearly had a tremendous faith in one particular Jew, Jesus from Nazareth. He trusted Jesus to heal his servant at a distance by means of his word. He did not consider himself worthy to have someone as close to God as Jesus enter his pagan home. Jesus was deeply impressed by his trusting faith and his humility. ‘Not even in Israel have I found faith like this’. Indeed, a version of this centurion’s words has made its way into the text of our Mass. At every Mass, we are invited to make the words of this centurion our own, and to make our own the trusting faith and humility that lie behind them. If we can do that, then God’s generous vision for our lives will begin to come to pass.

 And/Or

(vii) Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Generally, the Jews saw the Romans as the enemy, as members of the occupying power. However, the relationship between the Jews and the Roman centurion in today’s gospel reading is very different. There was a clearly a warm and friendly relationship between the Jewish community and this particular Roman centurion. He entrusted the Jewish elders with a special request, asking them to ask Jesus to heal his servant. They in turn spoke highly of him to Jesus, declaring that he deserved to have his request answered, remarking to Jesus on how friendly he was towards the Jewish people and how he had paid for the building of their synagogue. Jesus went on to discover for himself that there was something special about this Roman. He insisted that Jesus, a Jew, would not come to his pagan house to heal his servant. Instead he acknowledged that Jesus could heal his servant by speaking a word from a distance. Jesus could only respond, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found faith like this’. The Jewish community and Jesus discovered that goodness, generosity, faith can be found in unexpected people, in those who would normally have been written off as the disbelieving enemy. The gospel reading invites us to be open to the ways that God can be present in the lives of those whom we might be tempted to write off or dismiss. As the gospel of John expresses it, ‘the Spirit blows where it wills’.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[kkairosclerosis]

uncommon things i associate my deities with~

hi guys! im back from a quick hiatus! 

i recently moved to the city, but not too far from where i lived previously in the country. living in the city, however, is proving to be a bit more difficult then i had imagined, so ive been taking some weekends to go back home and ground myself again so i can feel more connected to my craft<3.

anyways, this morning, i was sitting on the porch of my parents farmhouse, looking out onto the sunset as my idiot dog ran laps around the frost-covered lawn, feeling more connected to my deities than i had in weeks. i decided, ‘hey, here a nice post idea. maybe ill talk abt the things i associate with my deities that others might not, and hopefully inspire them to as well!’ so, here it is! 

uncommon things i associate my deities with!

hermes——««

if this isnt your first time on my blog, you probably know: hermes is my patron. he has been for a while, even before i began to worship him. if you want to know more about why, check out this post. 

regardless, you can imagine that i hold very dear everything i associate with him.

in this case, it’s my dog. 

my dog is an...interesting border collie named oliver. i got into hellenic worship very shortly after getting him, and i have a very strong feeling he has a lot to do with it. 

i am thoroughly convinced my dog is a child of hermes. hes chaotic, but extremely smart. very, very fast, and spends hours running out in the yard. just running. nothing else. its even more intense when its windy, which, if you read the aforementioned post, you know that i associate the wind heavily with hermes. hermes is also the god of animal husbandry, and oliver is quite the farm animal. 

watching him run, i always get a strong sense of comfort. i know that the energy of hermes resides in him, its very clear. its almost as if his running brings the wind.  like hes running, and hermes says ‘hey, that looks fun! let me join!’ 

i, very regularly, ask for hermes protection of oliver. i do this because i know of the love hermes has for him. i can feel it. it makes me comfortable knowing hes safe while im not home with him. and i can tell it makes oliver feel safe as well.

aphrodite——««

aphrodite has always been dear to me, even before i started actually worshipping. i remember reading about her in the mythology books i frequented in the art room after i finished my projects, carrying them out to the field to just sit and read. she was an embodiment of beauty to me, and that has not changed since, so its natural that i associate her with one of the things i find most beautiful on this plane of existence: clouds.

when i was thinking of writing this post, i was sitting and looking at a cloudless sky. i was thinking: why is it that we most often consider a cloudless sky beautiful? is it because of the absence of ‘blemish?’ does a cloud signify a flaw? must all beautiful things be completely clear, or without mark? 

obviously, i thought this was ridiculous. clouds are so very dear to me. i mean, i have an entire album of photos on my phone of pictures of clouds i have taken. i have always been enamored. 

while i was pondering this, it hit me. beauty is unique. beauty is individual. thats exactly what aphrodite is about. these ‘marks’ in the sky are what make the sky beautiful to me. aphrodite is in these ‘blemishes’ because i find them beautiful. 

now, i dont mean to wrap this up in a corny way, but i encourage the people reading this to think this way about themselves. beauty is in your imperfections because they make you you. i have not seen one cloud that looks exactly like another i have seen, and thats exactly what makes them so beautiful to me. aphrodite loves all of you, and someone else does as well, so do not disrespect them by being mean to yourself. their idea of beauty is not misconstrued, so trust them. and if you dont think someone thinks your beautiful, know that i do<3.

apollo——««

apollo, to me, has always been sort of an enigma. i have a harder time interpreting his signs, especially recently, and i think that its particularly because of my recent falling out with my creative side. i have sort of abandoned my art, and it think its difficult for him to communicate with me through anything else.

one thing, however, i can feel him in is the sound of the birds in the morning. particularly, roosters.

as i mentioned before, my parents live on a farm. its natural to hear roosters first thing in the morning. some people find it annoying, but to me, its incredibly comforting. it means another morning has come. i’ve lived another day, and i have a whole new one to look forward to, until i hear the rooster the next morning. it means the sun is rising, and apollo rises with him. 

as a witch who particularly enjoys the sunrise, but has a hard time waking up to see it, the roosters serve as a sort of natural alarm clock. even if i do not physically get up to see the sunrise, i know it is happening, and i am awake for that first moment of dawn. it brings me comfort and a sense of small accomplishment, even on really difficult days.

and the days im in the city, and cant hear the roosters, its the morning songs of the birds in the part right next to my apartment building. this might be even more so, as apollo is the god of music. 

its a different type of comfort to wake up to the chill of the morning and hear the birds, knowing its a deity that loves me and wants to see me the next morning as well. i hope you, dearest reader, come to feel the same:).

asclepius——««

now, i haven’t talked about this much on this blog, but to me, asclepius has been such a pillar for me as of recent. with the pandemic and my own current health situation, i rely on him a lot for hope and support. i ask him to protect both me and my friends and family from illness or ailment, and in case of ailment, i ask him to facilitate a speedy recovery. thus far, he has never failed me, and i do not ever expect him to. i put my trust in him wholly. 

other than health, i find myself associating asclepius with cleanliness. while i see asclepius as the medic, i also see him as someone who is clean and organized. this is why i associate him with dewdrops.

now, bear with me in my explanation. morning dew, to me, feels clean. it feels almost pure, as it is one of the first forms of moisture a person can be met with during the day. 

picture it now. you wake up at sunrise, and venture out into your yard, the chill of the am just tickling at your face, cooling your nose to the touch. you take your first step off of the deck, and your bare feet sink into the grass, cold, and now wet from the dew. the feeling is shocking at first, as your feet get used to the new temperature, fresh out of the warm comfort of your blanket that sits invitingly on your bed inside. 

but the feeling is fresh. its grounding. its healing. 

that, to me, is how asclepius feels. 

sobek——««

i must be honest, sobek is the reason this post came to existence. i feel extremely strong about this one, particularly because i feel that sobek is under-appreciated and misunderstood as a god. i constantly encourage people to include sobek in their worship, as he, to me, has proven to be one of the most reliable gods i have ever worked with. i feel such a sense of comfort and love within him. i could sit in his energy for hours, days even. especially as a person who suffers from bouts of paranoia, his energy is one to learn to accept and become. 

for me, i see sobek in flowers. 

not many would see this, as sobek has this image of a tough, crocodile, protection god, which he is. but what a lot of people forget, is that sobek is also a god of fertility, particularly in harvest. in fact, sobek has done so much for my family’s farm. our garden is plentiful, and our harvests are more than we know what to do with. we end up making a lot of extra things with it, and giving it away to family friends and neighbors. i genuinely think that sobek creates abundance in our garden so he can give to our community. that is how loving i know him to be. 

however, what i specified was flowers. one of the most common offerings i give to sobek are roses. he seems to love them. sobek seems to protect that of which he loves, and roses are a symbol of love for me. i want to attempt to give him what he has given me. 

my family has a wildflower garden in front of our home. the morning i was sitting on the porch, i felt his presence, and i immediately looked to the flowers. delicate, yet extremely strong, and persevering. thats how i wish to be, and i can feel sobek in the encouragement of the flowers. 

i hope that didn’t come off too corny, although im pretty sure it did lol. i hope that this post was a good insight into my deities and how i understand them to be! again, disclaimer, not everyone experiences the gods in the same ways! some may agree with this post wholeheartedly, and some may have completely different experiences that make them disagree entirely! i am not one to gatekeep and define what the divine is, because the divine shows itself in different ways to different people. i hope you enjoyed this post, and have a wonderful day!

p.s. i love you and you’re worth it!

[miss-choco-chips]

Reverse Robin au

I wanted to try my hand at both Reverse Robin au and childhood friends DamiTim. So, Headcannons for all!!! 

In which Damian goes from thinking Tim has cooties, to imagining him in leather. Oh, and he trains to be a hero in between. 

Or, in which Tim goes from sassing Damian for being a prick, to sassing him because it’s their own special sort of foreplay.

They are seven and eight, respectively, when they met.

A part of Damian still believes girls have cooties; Timothy is no girl, but his best friend and usual companion is one, so he can’t be that far. Besides, he’s seven, a baby. Still, Mother and Father insist he plays with him, and he loves them too much to say ‘no’ when they ask something so earnestly.

Tim, a hand gripping his mother’s dress, takes one good look at the Wayne Heir, the hand offered to him and a superior sneer on his face, and then glances at his mom. 

‘He’s a prick’, he tells her with his eyes. She smiles benevolently down at him, but he catches the answer behind her Lady facade: ‘I know he is. Still, behave.’

While Mother and Father exchange pleasantries with the Drakes, Damian shakes hands with their son. As Heirs of the two most powerful families of the city (and arguably, the country), they are bound to see a lot of each other. 

The boy, Timothy he introduced himself as, has a very pale, very soft hand. No calluses. Damian, a martial arts enthusiast, can’t help but scoff.

The kid looks him dead in the eye, apparently not missing his reaction. With a completely angelic smile, and the most passive aggressive voice Damian ever heard, he tilted his head and asked.

‘Is there something on your throat, Mr Little Wayne?’ ‘No?’ ‘Oh, then you’re just a naturally unpleasant person’

Before Damian can even answer with a good comeback, the little boy is walking away towards where his friend, Stephanie Brown, daughter of Miss Brown, the head catheter of this events, is waiting. 

Damian is left standing, hand still out where he was shaking the kid’s own, mouth agape as he watches the little brat just leave him. His parents must have missed they ‘conversation’, but Mrs Drake hasn’t, if the equally exasperated and fond look in her eyes was something to go from.

From then on, every time they met, the little monster seemed to have a comeback ready. No matter how Damian prepared himself for their little greetings each time they bumped into the other at a party, Timothy always had some answer waiting under the tip of his tongue, both cutting, smart and deceivingly innocent.

‘Tsk. Again with Brown, I see. Can’t you do anything without your little shadow?’ ‘I can explain to you what friendship is, but I don’t think I can help you understand, sadly.’

‘Damian, I feel twice as happy seeing you as I did last time!’ ‘I’m sure you do…’ ‘Yeah. What’s two times zero?’ ‘...you brat’

‘Timothy. Your suit looks… as nice as it could, given the circumstances, I think‘ ‘And yours looks… well, I guess it’s nice to see not everyone is so obsessed with appearances’.

Both Brown and Mrs Drake seemed to find their exchanges amusing. He’s glad someone does, for he finds them exhausting and full of frustration. The little brat was seven, he shouldn’t be able to always have the last word. Damian was a Wayne. It was unbecoming. 

Still, it was… better than aimlessly follow his parents around. And he could always brag about his physical training success, which never failed to bring a frown to Timothy’s face.

He noticed too how his hand was starting to gain callousness over time. Apparently, someone was bitter about Damian’s training.

When his parents died, murdered in cold blood in front of him at the tender age of ten, he thought himself alone. Then Alfred came for him to the police station and hugged him as tight as Dad used to do, and Timothy walked right to the front seats on the funeral and held his hand during it all.

He had lost his parents, but there were people that cared for him, still. He couldn’t allow himself to fall into despair; he needed to keep this from happening to anyone else. He needed to protect the city his parents had loved.

Back in the Mannor, he endured as countless of strangers gave him their condolences, swallowing his desire to spit in their faces. None cared. Fakes, all of them; in their eyes, he was but a wealthy, vulnerable child, an open door towards the Wayne fortune. 

Timothy’s hand in his, calluses more notable each day and cold eyes keeping the worst of the worst away, kept him in check. He left his side shortly, speaking with his mother in whispers, before coming back and tugging him away. Mrs Drake, as the Waynes most close ally, took Damian’s place in thanking people for their support.

In his room, safe from the world, he broke down in the other child’s arms. Timothy, just one year younger but so much frailer, kept a tight  grip on him, arms around his back and back straight, eyes to the door. A show of strength, of protection; you can cry, I’ll keep watch.

Damian starts his training. Alfred calls master after master, in acrobatics, swordsmanship, hand to hand combat, forensics, everything that would keep his young Master from giving up and quitting on life. Anything to keep him busy, and moving.

Damian finds it humorous, how Timothy looks at him the next time they met at a party and frowns, obviously noticing the trials his body is going through on the lines of it. Something no one else seems to see.

He doesn’t tell Timothy he doesn’t need to work himself to the bone to be equal to Damian, he doesn’t need to catch up to him, because he’s already on the same level, his sharp mind and calculating disposition enough to make up for the breach in physical strength. He doesn’t say this, because wit can only take you so far, if your opponent is stronger than you, and every bit of knowledge Timothy amasses in his quest of showing Damian up could potentially save his life one day.

He likes that their exchanges are still the same; even in the darkest times, he can trust the newly turned 13 year old to be a passive aggressive little brat.

‘Oh, Timothy, it seems you’re still focusing more on your studies than… more practical areas’ ‘Somewhere out there, there’s a tree tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breath. I think you owe it an apology’

‘You seem ill, Timothy. Or is that shade of white natural to you?’ ‘Oh, I was feeling a little unwell, hence why I came to see you. They say laughter is medicine, and your face is already curing me’

‘It smells like something is burning. Damian, are you trying to think again?’ ‘....as always, you’re such a pleasure to meet with’ ‘I know, you’re welcome’

It lacked the bite it used to have, tough. Timothy was as ready to talk back at him in his bitchiest voice, as he was to ruthlessly humiliate anyone trying to fuck with Damian.

When he left the city, seeking to better himself for his mission, he and Alfred were the only ones he was sad to leave behind.

He traveled for years, safe in the knowledge that Mrs Drake was looking out for his company and her son, and that Alfred would be taking care of the Mannor and preparing everything for his return in a few years.

HE exchanged letters with Timothy. Calls could be intervened, and as long as him and Timothy spoke in code and never revelaed anything too personal, there was no problem with keeping physicals reminders of their ever growing bond.

He met Talia when he was fifteen, who in turn introduced him to her father. They both seemed to take a liking to both his abilities and goal, and took him in for training. She seemed to think of herself as a mother figure, as she kept pating his head and calling him ‘my own’, and Ra’s’ eyes would shine with greed during the times he took Damian’s training into his own hands. 

He left before turning eighteen, when talks of successors and adoptions became too unbearable. His only parents were dead, and he had no intention to replace them for such dark, shady figures. Besides, no matter how close their objectives seemed at first, the more he knew them the least they sounded like philanthropists. Terrorist, was a more fitting label.

He turned 21 on his first night back in Gotham. Alfred, who never  failed to bake a cake for him despite his absence the last seven years, shared it with him with teary eyes.

The morning after that, Timothy came to see him.

It took Damian’s breath away. 

He was still shorter, and at this point it was a sure thing he’d always be, but small height didn’t mean his charms were as well. His skin remained as white as he remembered, eyes icy blue, both in color and the feeling they gave off, hair even darker than Damian’s framing a delicate face.

His hands were rougher than he remembered, though. More calloused, packed with extra strength. Damian could tell, because the first thing this enchanting man did upon them meeting was to slap him. Hard.

‘I know everyone is entitled to act stupid once in a while, but you are really abusing the privilege, Damian. Seven years? Seven? And spent, what, three of them in company of the Al Ghuls? Are you always this dumb, or you just like showing off when I’m around? This doesn’t impress me, you know. I’ve always known you were an idiot, it’s not news anymore’

‘How…?’

‘You might think yourself above all others, smart wise, but please remember I’m someone you never won a battle of wits against. I know everything about your little world trotting, because I have spies, and about your time with the League, because I’ve known Ra’s for way longer than you. Also, your stupid little hero idea…’

‘Spies again?’

‘Alfred. Somehow, he thinks I can make you change your mind. I might be hailed as a saint by gothamites, but I certainly can’t work miracles’

Tim left eight hours later, after discussing both Damian’s travels and plans for the future. He had way more information than Damian had guessed, and had been silently but steadily growing his network of contacts and spies, and had his dainty little fingers in more pies than a baker. He growled at him, called him stupid, told him he was going to get himself killed if he pushed forward with the whole ‘Batman’ idea, but… When he left, it was as a ally. He’d support Damian, do his best to keep him well informed, and deal with over the table crimes, while Damian took care of the ones under it.

He fell in love, a little bit. Or, more accurately, fell more in love. The seeds have been planted years before, when a seven year old sassesd him and left him eating his words. Now, through… the dark knowledge he had amassed, the sharpness in his eyes, the deceptively frail appearance… 

Something twisted in his gut, in a nice way. He went to bed that night, and started to think in other aliases that would go nicely with Batman.

Wouldn't Timothy look dashing, in leather and kevlar?

[dyavania]

Hello! Can I request an imagine for Hector and his female s/o taking care of him after he gets sick? He falls ill due to overworking and lack of sleep & collapses at the forge. She basically babies him back to health and cue fluff as Hector finally gets the experience he was deprived of as a child. Thanks! (Bonus: She sings him a lullaby so he could fall asleep faster)

I guess this works anon ;) And here you go! You can find the song I used here if you’re curious. For context, the reader is Hector’s neighbor in this, she visits him frequently. They’re basically dating, they just don’t live together/aren’t married. Yet. I hope you will enjoy the result, and thank you for the request!

The forge was unusually quiet when you walked in. Usually, at this time of the day, it was filled with the sound of Hector’s hammer, and you had come to find it comforting. You could hear it from outside, when you neared his house, and its absence was unsettling. Worry pooled in your stomach as you stepped inside, carefully. He’d probably just taken the day off, he was probably outside, walking with his dog,… Everything was fine. Probably.

“Hector?” you called, carefully, and his dog’s high-pitched whine answered.

You quickly walked around the table, now genuinely anxious, and a gasp escaped your lips when you saw Hector, laying face-down on the floor, the dog licking his master’s face, as though trying to wake him up.

You wasted no time in kneeling by his side, checking his pulse first, then his breathing. You were relieved to find that he was still alive, but his forehead certainly felt too hot under your touch. You took a second to assess the situation. You doubted you would be able to move him all on your own, and you certainly couldn’t leave him here.

You ran to the well to get some water, wet a cloth, and pressed it against his forehead. He stirred at the cold touch, but didn’t open his eyes. Finding a cup, you took some more water and tried to get him to drink, wetting his dry lips.

Finally, he lifted his eyelid. His eyes seemed blurry, unfocused, but he still recognized you.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, slowly and uncertainly.

“It’s me,” you replied gently. “How are you feeling?”

A shiver ran through him.

“C-cold. My head…”

You nodded as you slipped your hand behind him, helping him to lift his head so he could rest it in your lap.

“That’s the fever,” you whispered, applying the wet cloth against him again while running your fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. “Did you fall?”

He relaxed in your touch. Everything felt strange, unreal, distant. Everything but you and your hands, grounding him in reality.

“I… might have.”

“Hector, we need to get you to bed, okay? Do you think you can get up for me?”

He grunted and tried to push himself up. It took the two of you a little while until he was standing, holding on to the table. You moved under his arm to support him.

“It’s okay, you can lean on me,” you encouraged him.

He hesitated, and then he slowly moved more of his weight on to you. He heard you groaning, but you didn’t let him go. His head was swimming for every difficult, stumbling step he took towards his room. Your own legs were wobbly, but you did your best to keep him up, refusing to let him fall. One hand was holding onto his wrist, the other arm was wrapped around his waist. He was very hot to the touch, you realized, and that just worried you more. He definitely needed some rest.

You were relieved when you finally got to the bed, and you laid him down as carefully as you could. You just took off his boots before covering him with the blanket and tucking him in. Searching the room, you found spare blankets he kept in a chest, and added some more for good measure. You checked his temperature again, briefly, then moved towards the door. You needed more water, needed to make a soup, needed to find some herbs… Hector’s pleading call held you back.

“You’re leaving?”

His voice sounded so broken all of a sudden that you could do nothing but go back to his side, grabbing his hand, letting him know you were there.

“I’m going to take care of you,” you promised. “I just need to get some things first.”

“Don’t go,” he begged, voice broken. “Please, please, don’t leave me, please…”

“It’s okay, Hector, I’m here,” you said as tears welled up in your eyes. You squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right there.”

He didn’t let go of your hand, and you didn’t try to move. He struggled to keep looking at you, like he was afraid you would vanish if he glanced away even for a second. You stroked his cheek, softly. This wasn’t good. He needed to sleep. Forcing himself to stay awake could be really bad. Your lips parted, and you started to sing the song your mother used to sing to you to get you to sleep. Your German was a little rusty, but you doubted he would notice.

“Dat du min Leevsten büst, dat du woll weeßt. Kumm bi de Nacht, kumm bi de Nacht, segg wo du heeßt…”

His eyelids fluttered, and his grip on your hand relaxed.

“Kumm bi de Nacht, kumm bi de Nacht, segg wo du heeßt.”

You kept singing for a while, even after he’d fallen asleep. You needed to go, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave his side. Surely, you could stay here, just a little longer…

The next days were a blur for Hector. He remembered the cold, the pain, the thirst, remembered the ache in his muscles and falling out of bed when he tried to move. He also remembered your hands, fresh and pleasant, the wet cloth on his forehead, and your voice, guiding him through it all.

When he woke up, in the morning of the third day, you were asleep, sitting on a chair, head resting in your arms on the bed, and he marveled at the sight.

You’d stayed. You’d been here throughout his whole illness, and you’d never left his side. That wasn’t something he could say of— well, of anyone in his life, really.

He lifted his hand, then hesitated, keeping it in mid-air between you and him. Finally, he carefully put it on your head. You jumped the second he touched you, and then a bright smile appeared on your face. Without a warning, you threw your arms around him, and he froze, before wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s good to see you awake,” you said, voice a little muffled in his neck.

He’d drifted in and out of consciousness for the past days, but there had always been that haze in his eyes, and you were happy to finally be able to see the blue orbs shining without an obstacle.

“It’s good to see you,” he mumbled. “You… stayed.”

You nodded as you pulled away. There was a slight blush on your cheeks.

“I did. I couldn’t leave you.”

He swallowed.

“Thank you. I think I— I will be fine from here.”

“What? Certainly not. You’re not getting out of bed today. You need at least a day of convalescence.”

He blinked and tilted his head.

“I’m sure everything—”

“Hector.” You leaned forward, grabbing his hand. “I’m not letting you put yourself in danger. You’ve clearly been working too much. I’d suggest you take the entire week off, but since I guess I won’t be able to stop you for that long, can you please rest for today? For me?”

Heat spread to his cheeks. How could he say no when you looked him like that? How could he say no when all you wanted was what was good for him?

“I— Fine.”

You grinned.

“Great. Give me a minute, I’ll get you something to eat.”

He stopped himself before he grabbed your hand to keep you from leaving. He was ridiculous. You… You’d come back. After all, you’d stayed through it all, so certainly, that meant… That meant he could trust you.

It was like a huge weight was lifted from his chest all of a sudden, and when you walked back in with a bowl of soup, he didn’t find words to express how he felt, how thankful he was, how much you meant to him. He took the bowl from you and drank from it without a word. It was nice and hot, and it had been an eternity since someone else had cooked from him. Somehow, it made it a lot more enjoyable.

“Careful,” you warned him, “you’ve barely had anything recently, so don’t drink too fast.”

You were… looking out for him. He guessed others would have found such attentions annoying, but he didn’t. It was all so new for him.

He could get used to it.

“Thank you,” he said again, though you probably didn’t know how important it all was to him.

“You’re welcome,” you said happily.

He grabbed your hand and kissed it. It was brief and soft, and he let go quickly, but the gesture left you surprised and blushing. Hector rarely initiated physical contact between the two of you, so you knew how much it meant to him.

“You know, if you— If you stay a little longer, I’d, erm, probably rest.”

He didn’t want to sound needy, didn’t want to make you feel like you had to stay. You had already done more than enough, after all. Perhaps he was selfish, but he wanted you to take care of him just a while longer. He’d be back to full health soon, but even then, if you still cared, still wanted to be around, he’d love to welcome you in his life a while longer.

Then doubt filled him. By offering, he was opening himself up to refusal, to rejection, and he wasn’t sure he could take that, coming from you. He was about to take back the proposition when you replied.

“Sure.”

“R-really?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you back to health, of course. But you’ll owe me.”

You were smiling, and though you weren’t sure what you’d use your favor on, it would probably be to go for walk, perhaps to help you at your place. In the end, just another excuse to spend more time with him.

“Of course,” he said, but his grin told you that he was well-aware of what you were thinking.

“You should sleep,” you said gently, squeezing his hand.

He nodded. He hadn’t been awake that long, but he was feeling tired already. You were right. He needed to rest.

“Can you sing for me?” he asked almost childishly, and in return, there was something almost maternal in your tone.

“Sure, Hector.”

He laid back down and you cleared your throat.

“Dat du min Leevsten büst, dat du woll weeßt. Kumm bi de Nacht, kumm bi de Nacht, segg wo du heeßt…”

His eyes fluttered shut, and you kept singing.

“Kumm bi de Nacht, kumm bi de Nacht, segg wo du heeßt.”

He fell asleep, knowing you were there, knowing you cared.

Knowing he wasn’t alone anymore.

[hieromonkcharbel]

Lent and Physical Illness: The Important and Timely Grace of God:

Starting off the season of Lent with sickness, although not serious, has quite naturally made me think about the meaning of illness and the spiritual life. The solitude and removal of the busyness of daily labors puts a person in a state of seeing his own poverty more clearly and so his own dependence upon God. Recently I came across the poignant reflections of Octavius Winslow about what he calls the light and shadows of the spiritual life that I would like to share with you and especially with those who perhaps suffer from chronic illness:

" . . . there are few experiences of the Christian in which the lights and shadows of his spiritual life meet and blend with such remarkable and perfect harmony as in the hour of sickness. Here are bodily disease-physical languor-torturing pain-and extreme nervousness; and, for ka while, all objects, temporal and spiritual, and all beings, the closest and the fondest, are viewed through a jaundiced and distorted medium- the mind is shaded, the heart unstrung- and shadows, many and dark, dance upon the walls of that lone chamber, and fall thick and fast around that pillow of suffering. Hard thoughts of God are cherished- wrong interpretations of His providence are indulged- it is the "fourth watch of the night, and Jesus has not come!" and Satan, taking advantage of bodily suffering, mental despondency, and the temporary absence of Jesus, is hurling a whole quiver of fiery darts at his poor, enfeebled, and dejected victim!

These are the shadings of the scene. But, are there no lights in the picture? no bright touches of the Artist's Divine pencil? Oh yes! many and brilliant! and all the more brilliant from the dark shadows which have so thickly pencilled it, the effect of which has been to bring into bolder relief the great and essential features of the scene. Let us trace them.

The first bright light illumining the picture is the submission of the will. The conflict has been long and painful, the struggle terrible and severe- but, grace has conquered- God's will has triumphed! "Not my will, O my Father, but Yours be done," is now the music of the soul- the sacred anthem pealing from that sick pillow. Oh what a beauteous light is this- how pure, how brilliant! Angels, methinks, look down from heaven's glory to gaze upon the light of grace thus bathing that scene of suffering and languor. "The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?"

When Dr. Payson was asked by a friend, in a season of severe illness, if he could see any particular reason for the present dispensation, he replied- "No; but I am as well satisfied as if I could see ten thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all reason." Sublime reply! God's will- be it His permitting or His approving will- is the perfection of infinite wisdom, righteousness, and love; and therefore must do right, and cannot do wrong! Beloved, in your present mystery of suffering and season of languor, be your experience that of the pious Payson; yet higher and holier still- that of our Lord and Savior- "May Your Will Be Done!"

Oh, what words can describe, or imagery depict, the perfect peace, the sweet repose which, like the gentle dawn of light, or the soft zephyr of evening, will steal calmly over your soul the moment the conflict of the will ceases, and, in suffering and weakness, you are brought to "Lie passive in His hands, And know no will but His!"

The discipline of patience is another light blending with the shadows of sickness. No unimportant or untimely grace of the Spirit is this; the development and culture of which finds no school more appropriate, or discipline more effectual, than that of 'pining sickness.' The continuous endurance of unmitigated pain- the prolonged and deathly weakness- the failure of skill and remedies to promote a cure- the morbid irritability and fretting almost inseparable from the prolongation of suffering- and the remembrance of duties neglected, of affairs deranged, of expenses incurred- all conspire to render the discipline of patience the most needed and precious; and when attained, to shed one of the most luminous graces of the Spirit upon the shaded picture of bodily disease.

Patience is one of those flowers of the wilderness, springing up from the seed of heaven, which never grows so truly or blooms so lovely, as amid the sharp, cutting bursts of affliction. "The trying of your faith works patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that you may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." "In your patience possess you your souls." "Lord, subdue my impatience and rebellion, and grant that, in this hour of pain and uneasiness, I may wait Your time and mode of recovery; and that, the true posture and acknowledgment of my soul may be that of Your servant David- 'Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child."'

The strengthening and increase of faith constitutes one of the brightest lights in the picture of spiritual life- and nowhere does that light glow with a richer luster than on a sick-bed. It requires no small faith, beloved, fully to believe that you are a sick one whom Jesus loves. "Lord, he whom You love is sick," is a precious declaration, as applicable to you as it was to Lazarus. Love blew upon the health that fades; love permitted the pain that afflicts; love appointed the disease that wastes; love, and nothing but love, has done it all. "Whom I love, I rebuke and chasten. Whom the Lord loves he chastens, and scourges every son whom he receives." Thus, when fever is consuming, and pain is torturing, and the nerves are quivering, and the mind is desponding, and the harpsichord of the soul hangs mournfully and silently upon the willow, it demands no little exercise of faith in the unchanging love, infinite wisdom, and righteous government of God to feel that it is all well!

But, this light shall not be lacking amid the deep shadows now gloomily draping the spiritual life of your soul. Faith shall triumph; for there is One in heaven "now to appear in the presence of God for us;" and, in virtue of Christ's present intercession, your faith, tried though as by fire, shall not fail, but shall rise superior to the slow process of decay, and grow brighter and stronger as the shadows fall, and strength fails- heaven thus opening and letting down such streams of glory around your sick and languid pillow as that faith, which is "the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen," shall exclaim- "My heart and my flesh fails: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever." Thus, "though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

"But a brighter light playing amid these darkling shadows is- the sensible, manifested presence of Jesus in the sick chamber of the disciple whom He loves. Yes, He is there! He is there as the Refiner- watching and tempering with unwearied eye and infinite skill the furnace fire of the sufferer. He is there as the Shepherd- guarding this tempted one of His flock, that no power pluck it from His hands. He is there to succor with His grace, to soothe with His love, to illumine with His presence, to cheer with His voice, and to encircle with His everlasting arms, the feeble, suffering, fainting child of His heart. "Lo! I am with you aways."

The glory brought to God by a long and lingering illness, eternity alone can fully reveal- and this is the brightest light of all, gilding and softening the shadows that drape the sick and dying-bed of a believer in Jesus. The sick-bed, the languid couch, of a saint of God is the most powerful and impressive pulpit in the land! No sacred rostrum of the most eloquent preacher gives utterance to such a sermon as issues from thence! The assembly waiting upon its instructions is large! Children and families, friends and neighbors, the Church below and the Church above, intent upon the scene, are waiting and watching, as with bated breath, the practical testimony to the reality and power of Christianity as a divinely sustaining, soul elevating, death-conquering religion- to the comfort of the divine promises- to the faithfulness of God- and to the sustaining grace and human sympathy of Christ- borne from this touching and solemn stand-point of life. The meekness and patience, the submission to the divine will, and the animating hope of glory, witnessed in that scene of debility, restlessness, and pain, speak with an argument more convincing than an Apostle's reasoning, and with an eloquence and pathos more winning than an angel's voice.

God is glorified in the fires, and the Name of the Lord Jesus is magnified. Sick and suffering saint of God! your couch stands upon the borders of that blessed land, the "inhabitants of which shall no more say, I am sick." Shrink not from the near approach of the "last enemy!" his form is lovely- his voice is soothing- his dart is stingless- and his mission a mission of love- sent to open your cage and set your spirit free- free as the dove soaring to its dove-cote in heaven! "Oh that I had wings like a dove! then would I fly away, and be at rest."

"When languor and disease invade

This trembling house of clay,

It is sweet to look beyond our cage

And long to fly away.

"Sweet to look inward, and attend

The whispers of His love;

Sweet to look upward to the place

Where Jesus pleads above.

"Sweet to reflect how grace divine

My sins on Jesus laid!

Sweet to remember that His blood

My debt of suffering paid.

"Sweet, in the confidence of faith,

To trust His firm decrees;

Sweet to lie passive in His hands,

And know no will but His."

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hmm, speaking of the current global situation we’re facing against, how about a HC between Arthur and the reader, who is a frontliner. There was an outbreak in Gotham and the reader has to join the other doctors and nurses to treat the infected patients. Of course Arthur would be very worried for her, but she comforts and assures him that she will come back to him safe and soon. They would exchange letters and couldn’t stop thinking of each other. Angst, but with some fluff too. How about that?

This is a request based in reality so I reference disease, deaths, illness, social distancing, depression and suicidal rates increasing (just one line on the last two things listed). Please skip this one if you need to, because I had to take breaks from writing this and I almost cried at several points.

I also kind of feel like I’m being disrespectful of the current global climate by writing this; please know that I do not view this situation through a purely fictional lens. I am aware of myself and of the world and I wrote this as respectfully as I could. If this is viewed as offensive or anything like that (I’m really anxious about posting this so I’m sure I’m overthinking) then it’ll be taken down immediately and no more will be said about it.

WC: 1, 284.

The unthinkable had happened.

There had been an outbreak of illness in Gotham City and it was so virulent, so aggressive, that you and Arthur would have to be separated while you pulled back to back shifts at Gotham Central Hospital.

People were contracting the disease like it was going out of fashion. There had been no warning, no inkling that this would happen, and as such (and also due to the government’s poor funding and organisation), little had been done in the way of protection.

Everything was happening so fast. No one knew what was happening, no one knew what to do.  People were panic buying, people were freaking out. Some people were preparing and being cautious... and then there were the people like you.

Essential workers, who didn’t have the luxury of going into quarantine to wait out the disease. People like you, who had to find alternate living arrangements for the time of the pandemic because you couldn’t risk the people you lived with getting sick.

People like you, who had to leave behind their loved ones for a time for safety, to help others. It was your job and you loved your job... but for all of your training, you could never have foreseen this.

Arthur was worried out of his mind; worrying about bills (he had been laid off from work due to the pandemic), how he would get food (you told him that you would get everything), how you would get fresh clothes...

A laughing attack was always on the back of another and it was all you could do to keep Arthur calm enough to have a proper conversation with you.

In the end, it was decided that you would call each other as often as you could, and you would exchange letters left in the crevices of freshly washed clothes (from Arthur to you) and on top of piles of clothes which needed to be wash and groceries which were essential (from you to Arthur).

It was a huge inconvenience and oh, how desperately you missed each other, but it had to be done. 

This was no joke. There was no punchline. 

A sentiment Arthur knew well, a bit too well, and he took this in stride just like he did everything else which happened to him. 

The process worked pretty well, all things considered, and both of you adored receiving letters from each other.

hi beutifull. i miss you so so much. your the lite of my life. i hope your drinking enuf and eating dsintly. i love you - a.f.

Hi, baby. Make sure to take care of yourself for me, okay? I’m real, I’m here for you and I love you. I’ll be home soon, angel. - Y/N.

Exchanges stretched across the weeks, which bled agonisingly into months...

Every single day people were dying. There weren’t enough medical supplies, beds, the funeral industry was booming... it was terrifying and in the midst of all the chaos, you most needed your clown.

There was nothing either of you could do, though, but to hold on. Arthur had touched these letters; his cool hands had worried over them, his face had undoubtedly been pressed into the clothes, inhaling your scent before he washed them and folded them... the sweet man even ironed them for you.

It was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. Nothing was improving but nothing was changing.

Soon, the disease peaked but you knew that there would be a second wave. People would get complacent and so it’d kill more people than the first.

Even when the social restrictions were lifted and your job slowed the tiniest amount, you stayed away from Arthur knowing that complacency would have devastating results.

You called each other every day, both of your voices thick with unshed tears.

Arthur always greeted you with a barrage of questions. “Hi, angel. Are you feeling okay? Any fever? How’s work? Are they looking after you, are they - “

“Hey, Arthur, shush, honey. I’m okay, it’s - it’s hectic but it’s not forever. Can you hang on for me, just for another day?”

That was how the both of you had to take it - just a day at a time. That was all anyone could do in circumstances such as these.

Depression and suicide rates were increasing too, as were rates of other social atrocities... it was maddening but Arthur was your one constant, just as you were his.

“Yeah, I can... yeah. It’s just... a day, isn’t it, Y/N?”

“It is, Arthur. I’m so sorry, honey. I’ll be home as soon as it’s safe.”

“I know. Just - don’t ever forget I love you. Please.”

A sad smile from each of you, separated by the city, “I love you too, darling. Don’t you ever forget. I have to go, Arthur, but I’ll phone you before bed, okay? I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. You’re the best part of all of this, the best part of me.”

Tearful goodbyes, reluctant spaces as each of you held onto the others’ silence for as long as you could. Neither of you wanted to end any of the phone calls you had every day. 

Death hung over your heads; any phone call could be the last, any letter could be the last...

It took a large toll on your mental healths but you had to keep going. You had to, there was no other way.

Months bled into each other, and everything was just one long today with snatches of sleep in between. Your soul became as worn as your body but soon, soon, it was safe enough for you to go home.

You were going home.

You phoned Arthur to tell him the good news first, knowing as you did that if you just turned up at home unannounced, he would think you were a hallucination. 

“I’m coming home, Arthur. I’ll be home at my usual time. I’ll see you soon!”

“Wha - what? Y/N, do you - do you mean that?”

“Yes! I’m coming home, so just wait for me. I love you.”

You didn’t give Arthur a chance to say it back before you hung up the phone in the office at the Hospital, grabbed your bag and took care of all the extra measures at the entrance of the Hospital before you were on your way home.

Your physical exhaustion was overridden by your desperate desire to see Arthur for the first time in almost three months.

You ran up those stairs, lungs and the backs of your legs burning alike, but you used the physical pain to push yourself around the corner, into the foyer of the apartment complex and, not trusting the lift, you ran up the eight flights of stairs separating you from Arthur.

Arthur Arthur Arthur Arthur Arthur I’m coming home I’m going home Arthur Arthur Arthur - 

You fumbled with the keys, wrenched the door open and yelled out his name.

The quick padding of bare feet on the worn carpet, your name almost shouted, and you caught a blur of Arthur before he crashed into you, arms around you, lips anywhere and everywhere he could reach... oh, but it felt like heaven as he sobbed and laughed against your skin, so emotionally drained and overwhelmed was he.

You weren’t much better off but that was okay. There was time now, for the both of you, to reunite and to find yourselves and each other again.

The danger had passed. You were safe and loved by each other and you felt your souls, tortured by the others’ continued absence, click back home.

AF/J @impulsiveclown @notyourlittledoll @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara @d-dreemurr @lynnesm @sagyunaro @sgtsavoytruffle @docsportello @ezziesworld @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @jokershyena @arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino

[veronicadm]

hi, it’s elle with one of my two muses, veronica jean demontfort. i can’t wait to play her in this group !

i’ve been keeping a close eye on VERONICA , JEAN , DEMONTFORT lately . by all means , i’ve started to notice the striking resemblance between her and constance zimmer , but something sparked my interest more . as it turns out - the demontfort family have indeed tried their best to tuck away veronica ’s  controlling tendencies , but it only seems to bring out her abrasiveness more . according to close confidants , on rare occasions , she can be humorous , last time they saw this side of her was , and i quote - “ON HER FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY” . but most shocking of all , seems to be the fact that ever since i dug deeper in her life , i somehow couldn’t shake the image of a grand collection of tequila, long-line coats, pencil skirts, inappropriate laughter, dedicating her time to keeping things buried, frequented cursing when things fail to go her way, a judgemental stare over her glasses frame & deleting emails without reading them out of my head .

triggers: alcoholism, abandonment, parental death, paranoia

despite preconceived notions about veronica and her family’s riches, she did not grow up full rich. she grew up in seattle, born veronica zellman james, her mother was her father’s former secretary and her father a big ceo of a telecoms company. the two never had any more childen because she was unwanted in the first place. her mother was flighty and her father chose either work ot alcohol and drugs over her every time so it was up to veronica to make sure she got what she needed.

from a young age she had been forced into a resourceful mindset and stepped in to fill her own parental role. her parents would fight, her mother would leave and not come back for weeks, her father would succumb to his vices and eventually her mother would return. this was a cycle that kicked in like clockwork so it was one that was far too played out.

she got her first job at thirteen because she wanted money for herself so she could leave without any hesitation. they didn’t check up on her school work so it was a good job that she was self-motivated. her parents were getting worse as the years went on and the little sympathy that she had for them slowly vanished; they were making life so much harder for her. she wasn’t supposed to be their counsel or support, they were meant to be hers.

veronica adopted a harsh exterior, one that was always on the defensive side to make sure she stayed on top of things and grabbed opportunites. when she was seventeen, her father passed away and the company stocks and all his savings went to her. her mother had been m.i.a. for quite some time and it wasn’t like she was written in his will to begin with. automatically made a billionnaire overnight, she would be quick to sell her shares of the company for a hefty sum to distance herself from it all.

the girl was upset that he was gone and that he’d never be able to make it up to her. veronica had always felt that he would snap out of spiralling constantly and try his best to step into his fatherly role but that was never going to happen now. she did try to reach out to her mother but the woman rarely responded and when she did, she wanted money from her. that was shut down immediately. some would call that heartless but the woman didn’t deserve her help; she had helped her enough throughout her short life time.

she had always had an aptitude for languages; she was near fluent in spanish and french by fourteen. veronica would go on to major in spanish and minor in arabic at berkeley. she never had any intention of becoming a translator but she believed that she had a lot of transferrable skills for jobs in business. although she was abrasive, she could be charasmatic if she wanted to.

veronica met father demontfort at the time she was at berkeley and for her to say that it was love at first sight was a lie. almost a romantic comedy, she didn’t like the entitled rich boy that thought he had one up on her. veronica was intelligent and would reject him until he was willing to accept him as an equal. her interest peaked when he’d mention the family business and she did want to be involved. she was ready to take on responsibility that she had dodged in the past by selling her shares and she had more than enough money to finance developments and expansions they talked about.

she had never been in love with father demontfort and hadn’t been in love with anyone before that. she would be the type to sleep with people and not get attached but she became attached when they’d plan together; ‘world domination’ was what they called it. an onlooker would tell you that they were a toxic pair and would have compared them to the macbeth’s. veronica was described as having ‘masculine’ traits as she was forceful in her own right and did curse more than a ‘lady’ should but she didn’t care about that. abrasive moments could be fixed by a smile.

it was a shock to her when she found out she was pregnant for the first time. veronica had never dreamed of having a family; she was too focused on work and it wasn’t like she had any good role models for parenting. she wasn’t going to go through with it but father demontfort found out she was pregnant and was insistent that it helped with the image purpose and that they’d be great parents. veronica was extremely worried about it but she felt like she couldn’t voice her concerns; father demontfort and the business was all she had and she wasn’t willing to part with it.

she did love madeline when she was born, that was no question. while veronica didn’t dismiss her doubts completely, she did want to give her the absolute world. however, she quickly became overwhelmed when the two others came along. it was too much for her and she felt herself crumbling. it was foreign territory for her because she was meant to be a winner and that wasn’t happening with her being a mother. that was when the revolving door of nannies came into play.

veronica wouldn’t be able to pin point when the scheming came into full force but it was caused by them being so competitive with each other. the woman wasn’t clean herself as her resourcefulness came into play and covering up the illegal activity was her idea. she hadn’t been aware that the company was operating by those means but took it upon herself to clean everything up. it leaded her to start to resent her husband and the bickering began.

the two of them tried to keep it away from the children but they couldn’t help but take little digs at each other. it was concerning when their tensions was picked up by one of their acquaintenance at a gala and noting in monterey stayed a secret - people loved to start rumours and their marriage seemed to be a hot topic.

being pragmatic, veronica suggested the publicity stunts such as the family meals out with cameras, a spread in a magazine about ‘having it all and maintaining happiness’. it was a bunch of bullshit but at this point, bullshit was veronica’s middle name. she didn’t care about charity but would find herself organising many charity galas to clear rumours of dirty money; veronica was good at cleaning up messes she helped to create. she definitely had an issue with control and always assumed responsibility to fix things and then proceeded to be angry that no one else had volunteered to do it.

the woman wasn’t happy but she was putting on a stellar act. she doesn’t feel like a person anymore and what she has can’t be considered a family. her children dislike each other and she feels partly responsible for that. she did push them hard because she never had anyone do that for her but perhaps she had gone in too hard. she has started drinking a little more these days and is scared of becoming her father. veronica also feels like she can’t express her concerns to anyone, not even her husband. monterey gossip travels too fast and she doesn’t trust any of the women in her circle.

christopher matthew was a threat to everything, especially when he was trying to discredit everything they had ever done. there were some underlying issues but that didn’t mean she hadn’t achieved anything. it made veronica paranoid about where he was getting this information as every time she would sue, the case would be dropped because something else would be threatened to uncover. this was something she couldn’t control and that was difficult for her to accept. her worry was making her physically ill. she didn’t want this. she thought about moving her money into another bank account and leaving monterey but that would have made her just like her mother and she wasn’t to know what would be said in her absence.

veronica was constantly defensive as she was so worried and it caused her to snap at her family. she was supposed to be very successful but her ambition has landed her in a mess that she doesn’t know how to clean up.

she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel relieved to hear of christopher’s death. it left a weight off her but some problems still remained. veronica still wants out, of the family and the business but doesn’t feel like she can handle the fall out.