#it just takes more effort than i can currently devote to it

[cultkinkcoven]

saw this post in r/luciferianism and thought it relevant to share my response here because this is a question I see asked very often.

Doesn’t Lucifer hate being worshipped?

In my experience, no. Not really.

First of all, Lucifer very much is a Lord. He is the God of illumination and enlightenment, He is the Lord of Thaumiel, he is the keeper of the draconian current, the hidden gnosis, he is the liberator, he is the morning star. He is Venus. and he is very much worthy of Godly respect. He is no less powerful nor influential. He very much qualifies for the title of Lord, even if he doesn’t subscribe to the idea of supremacy.

To worship Lucifer though, is not to place yourself below him. Lucifer is my patron and I am his devotee. I am a human and he is a God. We are fundamentally different creatures, that doesn’t mean there isn’t respect or equality between us. Lucifer does not demand or even expect worship. That’s why choosing to actively worship him, set time aside for him, create an altar for him, is so important and dear to him. On the complete contrary, Lucifer doesn’t hate being worshipped by his devotees. He has always seemed beyond honoured and touched that people revere him enough to choose to do so.

Worshipping the Christian God is a responsibly. But when I worship Lucifer it isn’t because I think I have to or because he asked me to. I paint him a picture because I think he’d like it, I offer him an apple because I’m thinking of him. I pray to him because I want to be closer to him. When I worship Lucifer, I also worship myself. In order to worship him, I have to embody his principles, and he is the God of self worship. Taking the effort to actively form a relationship with him in recognition of his divinity whilst also not discounting your own is the key. We don’t worship Lucifer because he’s a God and we think he’s better than us, we worship Lucifer because Lucifer is wonderful, and being in his presence is enjoyable. When I refer to Lucifer as my God and my King, I am not referring to myself as his slave.

There is something incredibly beautiful about consensual authority and leadership, especially when it comes to Lucifer. Bending to a God out of fear is worlds different than surrendering to a God out of trust and admiration.

Lucifer doesn’t hate being worshipped because the act of worship in itself is bad- because it’s not. Lucifer hates bondage (not the bdsm kind lol) and forced worship. Lucifer hates spiritual slavery, the Christian God refers to his people as his slaves. Lucifer would never tell someone that worshipping him is mandatory. But choosing to worship, wanting to worship him as a God and enjoying the act of worship in itself is not in any way offensive to him. In fact it is one of the greatest compliments a human can give.

There is power is deciding to surrender to a God and trusting in their leadership. Lucifer is not a tyrant, but he absolutely is a leader. Following his lead is exactly what he wants us to do, regardless of if we call him God or not. In my opinion, a devotee and a deity are equals in that relationship, even if they are not equal in stature. My role as the human who does the worshipping, tends the altar, heads the messages, and his role as the God who provides insight, directs, and leads, are intrinsic to the dynamic we have. Submission is not inherently degrading. On the contrary, purposeful devotion has been one of my most powerful sources of confidence and pride. My relationship with Lucifer has only continued to flourish as I’ve become more comfortable with worshipping him as my God. I look UP to him, literally, because he is in the sky. He’s a God. He looks down to me because I am a human. But we meet eachother’s eyes, that’s all that matters.

I am a God in my own right, worthy of respect, freedom and autonomy, just like Lucifer. But I am also very much human, and compared to how ancient he is, I very much am a child. This doesn’t mean that I infantilize myself in comparison to him, that is something he would actually hate. It means that I trust in my God’s direction as a God because I understand and respect that he does know more than me. We are equals in concept but not in practice. Once you heal your relationship with authority and allow healthy leadership to support you in your life omg deity work and witchcraft and life in general are going to become so much easier for you.

I do call Lucifer Lord often, but he only ever actually tells me to call him Lord when I’m acting like a brat. Not to speak down to me, not because he’s the boss of me, but to remind me who he is. I’m not talking to my imaginary friend, I’m talking to Lord Lucifer, the God that I felt so protected and inspired by that I devoted my eternal soul to him. I can dislike or disagree with what he says all I want. The fact that I have recognized him as Lord means I already know that he’s probably right and there’s probably a good reason why he’s telling me whatever he’s saying.

tldr: I personally have had no problem calling Lucifer Lord and worshipping him, but he’s also not going to have a problem with anyone not doing that. Likewise, I doubt we would tell anyone not to worship him unless it was in a way that was degrading.

[lunarforager]

Little Ways to Worship

In our current day and age, it can be hard to find time and/or energy to devote to the deities you worship or look upon for guidance. So here are some small ways to worship in your day-to-day that don't take too much effort!

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1.) Carry around crystals, stones, or other objects you think your deity would like --> An example from my pracitce is carrying around rose quartz (a crystal known for its love related properties, such as increasing one's self confidence, attracting love and compassion, and healing relationships) for Aphrodite, a goddess associated with love, both from other people and towards yourself

2.) Incorporate worship into day-to-day activties --> An example from my practice is one again tied to rose quartz and Aphrodite. I love placing rose quartz crystals in my shower while I bathe to infuse the shower and steam with self-love while showing myself care and compassion as I bathe. (NOTE: Be careful with putting crystals or stones into water! Some cannot touch water as they will either dissolve or leech harmful chemicals or elements into the water they touch. Make sure to do your research and make sure your crystals are water safe!)

3.) Research your deities! Read their stories! Research the religions and peoples that originally worshipped them! --> This might be easier for some (for example I read a lot of Greek myths and legends as I'm a classics major and that's like, more than half of my degree) but it can still be as simple as purchasing a book of myths or watching YouTube videos about them! (If you want a good channel for hellenic deities and their myths, check out OverlySarcasticProductions! They do a wonderful job speaking about and animating the stories and both creators are LGBTQ+ and have a very inclusive community!)

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Well, there's my list of simple ways to worship your deities in day-to-day life! I hope something from this post was helpful or interesting and if you want more informaiton, more ideas, or just want to chat, feel free to message me! I always love making new online friends!

Valete, friends! <3

[geekgirles]

I seriously think Emmelyn's role is going to be pivotal in giving Unicorn back their humanity and empathy.

As seen at the end of A Fateful Encounter and the beginning of What Lies Beneath, Emmelyn was more proficient with her powers and more effective when Melinda took control of their body. She immediately gave chase to the Evil, cornered her and was about to vanquish her once more, all by herself...

...until she saw the damage her powers caused to that poor family's home and lives.

From then on, it's Emma who asserts herself over Melinda's soul again, horrified at the damage she caused.

But here's the thing, she's the only member of Unicorn who pays the poor woman and her kids any mind. Edred, despite witnessing the state the house is in, quickly brushes it off because Melinda let the Evil escape, not once sparing a glance to the innocent people whose lives they just essentially ruined.

And that seems to be Unicorn's recurring flaw: they are so laser-focused on defeating the Evil in the name of humanity, they tend to overlook the individuals they're supposed to be trying to help.

This episode showcased this brilliantly: when Melinda's fire destroyed the bridge and threatened with harming lots of innocents, Edred and Copernicus were quick to solve the problem. The civilians even cheered for them!

But when it comes to dealing with people's problems individually, they tend to disregard them in the name of the greater good. Unicorn will do what's objectively right or best, which is usually the needs of many over one person's issues or desires, but they won't stop to think about the possible consequences of their actions beyond vanquishing the Evil.

This is especially prevalent during Emma and Melinda's confrontation last episode. Through Melinda's callous treatment of Emma and refusal to see things from her point of view, as she is devoted to their cause and Emma's refusal to merge with her directly threatens their mission, she also fails to understand asserting herself over Emma only serves in alienating her more.

If only Melinda had tried a gentler approach in explaining to Emma she is not responsible for the turn her life took but they really need to work together or hers won't be the only life that prematurely comes to an end, then chances are Emma wouldn't be resisting her and her powers as much as she's doing right now.

Edred has this same problem too, as evidenced through his interactions with Winston. Instead of explaining that the woman he loves isn't exactly there anymore, he coldly tries to push him aside, to get him to leave Emmelyn alone. He doesn't even try to relate to the boy's problem, even when they're essentially one and the same! Both Edred and Winston are terrified of losing their beloved because she's not acting like herself and, no matter what they do, she is constantly pushing them away. But because Edred has grown unaffected by people's struggles outside of saving them from the Evil, not helped by the fact that his actions are also fuelled by jealousy, he makes no effort to sympathise with Winston or even offer an apology or words of comfort. He just wants him out of their way and away from Melinda.

But with Emmelyn, it's precisely the fact that Emma can actually get Melinda to snap out of it and take control over their body that she realised their current actions are doing more harm than good to the people they're supposed to protect. Meaning, once she explains to the others why she's holding back, how fully giving in to Melinda means more people will suffer in the long run unless they start doing things differently, maybe it'll help Edred, Seng, and Copernicus realise they need to understand those they're trying to protect better and that tackling things as a whole won't always be the answer. Otherwise, they're only going to do more harm than good and, as with their reincarnations, the cycle will only begin once more.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

A Guard By Any Other Name

The Owl House » Huntlow

Title: A Guard By Any Other Name

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Hunter delves into the history and lore of grimwalkers and discovers that a piece of the ortet's soul, as well as every iteration of The Golden Guard that came before him, resides within the depths of his mindscape, and can only be accessed and set free by those the current grimwalker trusts most. There's no one Hunter trusts more than Willow and Gus.

They wake in a forest filled with wildflowers and tall, waist-wading grasses, soft summer sunlight pouring through the surrounding thicket of towering trees in misty slivers. Beautiful is the first word that comes to mind when Willow takes it all in, a feeling that intensifies tenfold when her gaze lands on a figure sitting in the shade of a magnificent tree, feather-veined leaves spilling from long, lithe branches like rainfall frozen in time. It doesn't escape Gus's notice that the inner Hunter has chosen a willow tree as his sanctuary, chuckling to himself as the two of them approach him.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

It's in Lilith Clawthorne's esteemed opinion that the most efficacious fuck you she can give the long-gone Emperor is to turn the crumbling ruins of his old castle into a school for wild magic. So, precisely one year after the plot to put a stop to the Day Of Unity, six months after the return of The Hexsquad (as local news station have taken to calling them, praising them for their heroic efforts in defeating The Collector, sealing the little chaos god away for good this time) and one week after the newly-formed council elects Lilith for the task, that's exactly what she does.

In the midst of renovation, Lilith comes across a secret archive buried in the depths of the castle — a library containing a collection of books that detail the true history of wild magic, as well as several old leather-bound texts, hand-scribed on faded parchment paper in ancient Deadwardian dialect, exploring darker avenues of magic that Belos clearly wanted to keep hidden from the masses. 

One such book, titled The Grimwalker's Grimoire: The History, Lore, and Creation Of Grimwalkers, strikes her interest, and so, instead of donating it to the Bonesborough Library, or keeping it for her future school, Lilith stows it away in her personal collection, making a mental note to take a little detour to her sister's cottage on her way home.

She's developed something of a kinship with the former Golden Guard, the two of them bonding over their love of books and history, their insatiable thirst for knowledge. (Not to mention, there's nothing quite like the shared bond of trauma over devoting your life to a tyrannical monster you used to worship as a god.) 

She feels guilty as she looks back on her life in the coven through a different lens — perhaps the little boy who used to follow her around chattering away a mile a minute about this tincture and that battle strategy hadn't been doing so just to grate on her nerves, but to earn her approval, to prove that he could live up to the titles that had been thrust upon him at such a young age: golden guard, little prince, genius teen prodigy. Lilith could certainly relate. 

Maybe that's why she tries a little harder, goes out of her way to show him a little extra kindness. She'd always assumed being the Emperor's nephew afforded him special treatment — admittedly, she was jealous — and had been horrified to learn how very wrong she was. So, on her way back home, Lilith stops by the Owl House, pleased to find him curled up in the bay window of Eda's living room, cheeks tinged a healthy shade of pink as he laughs at a joke the little plant witch has just told him, and delivers the book to him.

"I know you've been eager to learn more about who and what you are," she says with a poignant smile, placing the battered old leather-bound book in his outstretched hands, wincing as her gaze lingers on the series of scars that curl around them like brambles. "I'm certain this will give you the answers you seek."

Hunter stares down at the faded cover, fingertips trailing over the embossed title, hand-scribed in a blood red ink so dark it's almost black.

"Thank you, Miss Lilith," he says in a soft, small voice, glancing up at her with genuine gratitude in his eyes, and Lilith wonders how she could have ever thought him so deserving of her contempt.

• • •

Hunter sits with his back to Eda's bay window, late summer sunshine streaming in golden slivers through the half-drawn curtains, Willow and Gus curled in on either side of him, listening intently as he shares bits and pieces from The Grimwalker's Grimoire.

"Galdorstone, for heart and power," he says, pointer finger sliding down the list of ingredients as he reads them aloud. "Palistrom wood, for keratin. Stonesleeper lungs, for…well, I guess that one's obvious. Selkidomus scales…less obvious…though I'm guessing it has something to do with skin? Might be the reason the heat of the boiling sea doesn't seem to affect me. And lastly…bone of ortet."

"Bone of what?" Gus wrinkles his nose in confusion.

"It's a term used in botany," Willow supplies, lips pulling into a frown. "It means 'the original plant parent from which a clone ultimately derives.' In other words…"

"Caleb Wittebane," Hunter finishes her thought, revulsion rising in his throat like bile at the notion that Philip kept his brother's corpse for the sole purpose of creating clones of him.

A gentle weight lands on Hunter's shoulder, soft feathers brushing against his skin as his little cardinal palisman nuzzles his cheek, at his side the moment he'd sensed Hunter's distress.

"Hey buddy," he says, glad his voice only shakes a little as he scritches the spot under Flapjack's chin. "Looks like we're made from some of the same stuff. No wonder you're like a brother to me."

Flapjack twitters cheerfully, giving Hunter's finger an affectionate nibble as if to say turn the page, you have to keep going, and as Hunter reads on, he's pretty sure he understands why. 

"It is said that a piece of the soul, wherein lies all of the memories and mannerisms of the ortet, and any previous iterations created in their likeness, reside within the mindscape of the current grimwalker, lying dormant, hidden away beneath the surface," Hunter recites, so entranced by what he's reading his voice is practically a whisper. "These dormant memories can indeed be accessed, and become available to the current grimwalker — but be warned, for it involves invoking complex, dangerous magic."

"Mindscape magic," Willow surmises, and Hunter's gaze snaps to meet hers, stunned to discover she's as well-versed in this subject as he is.

"Only those the grimwalker trusts implicitly may enter the mindscape and gain access to the hidden levels," Gus reads aloud, taking over in light of Hunter's sudden inattention. "While the journey may be perilous, it is the ultimate act of kindness—"

"—for doing so will allow those last remaining pieces of the ortet and subsequent grimwalkers' souls the freedom to pass fully into the afterlife, so that they may finally be at peace," Hunter finishes in a small, awed voice, glancing up from the page to find the two of them staring at him, wide-eyed and enraptured.

It's clear what needs to be done, though Hunter would be lying if he said he didn't feel at least a little apprehensive about the idea of Willow wandering the depths of his mind, privy to all of his innermost thoughts and feelings, all of his flaws and insecurities and deepest, darkest secrets laid bare for her flip through like the world's worst jukebox. 

But the need to know more about the previous Golden Guards, and more importantly, to free them (Hunter shudders as he remembers all those weepy palismen souls trapped inside the depths of the Emperor's mind) far outweighs any personal objections he might have.

"We have to free them," he says, mind made up. "Would you— I mean, there's no one I trust more in this world than you two."

Willow's lips part in surprise, while Gus's face takes on a slightly stunned expression. Hunter falters, suddenly apprehensive. He'd been so preoccupied worrying over his own reservations, he hadn't stopped to consider whether they would actually be willing to do this for him. After all, this is one hell of an ask, and it's not like he's worth risking—

"Of course we would," Willow's reply comes instantly, unreservedly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the junction between his neck and shoulder. Hunter blames the induction of heat that blossoms in the spot where she'd touched him on the cozy afternoon sunlight streaming through the bay window, hoping like hell she can't feel the sudden jump in his pulse.

Laser focus set on her new task, Willow springs up from their little makeshift reading nook and heads for the kitchen, where Eda and Amity have been busy showing Luz how to bake a fairy pie for the upcoming Hexside bake sale. Though she's researched the subject extensively, she's never performed the spell herself, and they have to be smart about this. 

They'll need someone to cast it — someone like Eda, whose magic might not be fully functional anymore, but who can still whip up one hell of a potion — someone to watch over Hunter while he's under the sleeping spell, and someone to perform the teleportation spell to bring them back to the physical world when the time comes.

"We'd do anything for you, dude," Gus reassures him, holding out his hand for their signature fist bump. "And don't worry," he adds in an undertone, waiting until Willow is out of earshot. "Your secret's safe with me. I'll do everything I can to make sure Willow doesn't find out until you're ready to tell her."

"I— wha— tell her? Tell her what? I'm not— there's no secrets. I—" Hunter splutters around a voice-cracking chuckle, a dozen half-assed excuses and outright lies queuing on the tip of his tongue. Gus levels him with an arched eyebrow, as if to say, Really? This is the hill you want to die on? and Hunter deflates, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Thank you," he says in a small voice, smiling when Gus offers him a sage nod in return. 

A couple of loud bangs, odd aromas, and colorful curses later (mostly from Eda, but there's a few from Willow thrown in there as well) the potion is finally ready. Willow fusses over the number of pillows propping up Hunter's back while he gets situated on the couch (which is fine, he feels totally normal about the fact that Willow is doting on him, concerned for his comfort while he's under the sleeping spell) before joining Gus in the center of the spell circle that Luz has carefully drawn in the middle of the living room floor.

"You kids ready?" Eda asks, looking wary. While it had ultimately worked out fine in the end, the time she'd sent Luz and Amity in to repair Willow's mindscape, it had still been a dangerous, almost life-threatening task. Entering the mindscape of one person is risky enough; entering the mindscape of someone who shares the space with multiple past versions is on another level entirely.

But it's Hunter, and Hunter is worth the risk.

"Ready," they say together, clasping each other's hands and turning to give Hunter one last reassuring smile before Amity puts him under the sleeping spell.

"Okay, here we go. Three…two…one!" Eda chants, throwing the potion into the spell circle, where it ignites, bathing the room in a golden glow. A thousand tiny balls of light swirl around them like shooting stars, growing brighter and brighter, until it's almost blinding, until one moment they're here, and the next, they're gone, vanishing from the physical world in the blink of an eye, Hunter fast asleep on the couch above the active spell circle.

• • •

They wake in a forest filled with wildflowers and tall, waist-wading grasses, soft summer sunlight pouring through the surrounding thicket of towering trees in misty slivers. Beautiful is the first word that comes to mind when Willow takes it all in, a feeling that intensifies tenfold when her gaze lands on a figure sitting in the shade of a magnificent tree, feather-veined leaves spilling from long, lithe branches like rainfall frozen in time. It doesn't escape Gus's notice that the inner Hunter has chosen a willow tree as his sanctuary, chuckling to himself as the two of them approach him.

"I was wondering when you two would finally get here," the inner Hunter affectionately teases, glancing up from the book he'd been reading — From Bones To Earth: A Study Of Wild Magic — to greet them with a radiant smile.

He vanishes the book with a simple flick of his wrist, springing up from the ground in one quick, fluid motion, only to be nearly knocked back down by the force of Gus and Willow's tackle hug. The inner Hunter lets out a soft, surprised chuckle, hugging the two of them back even tighter. 

"So, journey to the center of my mindscape," he prompts, squinting in the direction of a winding path leading through the denser, darker part of the forest. "Well then, we'd better get started."

They make their way through the arboreal labyrinth, the inner Hunter guiding their way, blushing and preening as Willow gushes about how beautiful his mindscape is, pausing to admire the flowering vines that twist and turn through the undergrowth, watching as birds and bumblebees soar through cloudy blue skies just visible through the canopy of trees overhead.

Along the way, they pass a collection of Hunter's memories, their portraits embedded into the cores of trees or propped up by flowerbeds and tangles of vines. Gus makes a valiant attempt to distract Willow from all the portraits featuring memories of her, but it's hard when there's so many.

Portraits of memories as recent as the past few months, featuring the three of them huddled together around a crystal ball on Willow's bed, catching up on the latest episode of one of their favorite CB shows — sitting in a booth sharing a massive ice scream sundae split between all five of their friends — sprawled along the edge of the beach, the one spot on the Isles where the sea doesn't boil, saltwater-kissed breeze carding its fingers through their hair as they dug their toes into the sand — the day he'd met Willow's dads, eyes misty as they'd pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, voices quavering as they'd thanked him for keeping their daughter safe.

Beyond those are portraits of their time in the human realm — learning how to make flapjacks with Camila, his little cardinal palisman perched on his shoulder, twittering happily as Hunter fed him small bites and berries — big group sleepovers in Luz's living room, movie marathons and game nights, blanket forts and popcorn wars — Willow, curled up on the living room couch, reading passages aloud from a book on human realm plants that Hunter had gifted her — Willow, smiling brightly as she'd worked in Camila's backyard helping her build a garden, patches of dirt smudged across her sun-kissed cheeks — Willow, sitting across from him at the local diner they'd haunt on the weekends, head thrown back in laughter as a red-faced Hunter swelled with pride at having told her a funny joke. 

Willow notices them all, but doesn't say anything, just walks along with this big, beatific smile on her face, the inner Hunter's face turning redder and redder the more Willow-centric memories they come across. 

But as they walk further, her smile starts to fade, happy memories becoming fewer and farther between the deeper they trek through the swiftly darkening forest. It's like seeing his life play out in reverse, like the forest itself feeds off the emotions tied to the memories, changing its shape to match the mood. The older the memory, the darker the forest becomes, closing in around them until it's almost too dark to see.

Dark, thorny vines twist and curl like barbed serpents around the edges of most of the portraits of Hunter's time spent at the castle, in the company of the monster he used to call uncle, glints of polished gold and a sickly, luminescent blue just visible between the brambles, threatening to pierce the canvas. Though there are still some portraits that remain relatively unscathed, small clusters of flowers blooming in spite of the prickly thorns surrounding their edges.

A portrait of the Day Of Unity, the comforting warmth of Willow's care and protection dulling the agony of the draining spell as it lit up his veins in bright, blinding gold — the look of blissful relief on her face the moment she'd realized that the spell had been deactivated, that Hunter was safe again.

A portrait of the battle at Blight Manor — a flash of gold as Hunter disguised as an illusion of Luz dashed forward to push Willow out of harm's way, his first instinct always to protect her — vines bursting to life like a leviathan from the rage fueling Willow's magic as she'd chased down Hunter's captor, first to rush aboard the airship, frantically trying to figure out how to work the controls so she could go after him — the sob of relief she'd made as the illusion lifted, and there stood Hunter, looking rattled but very much alive and safe — the way she'd rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him, voice trembling as she'd whispered, "I'm so glad you're okay."

A portrait of Hunter standing in the halls of Hexside, dressed in a patched and mismatched outfit he'd pilfered from the lost and found, gloved hands gently cupping one another as he'd stared into the distance, captivated by a subject she can't yet see, a faint pink blush blossoming in the apples of his cheeks.

"That's not the captain," Hunter's voice echoes through the portrait, and all at once, Willow remembers a conversation she'd had with Gus later that night, when she'd called to ask how Hunter was settling in.

"He knew it was an illusion almost instantly," Gus had told her, sounding equal parts incredulous and impressed.

"Well, I'm not surprised," Willow had replied, stifling a giggle. "They don't call him 'genius teen prodigy' for nothing."

Gus arched an inquisitive eyebrow but made no further comment, conspiratorial smile tugging at the corners of his lips like her reaction had just confirmed a running theory.

"I'm not talking about knowledge of the craft," he said as he shook his head. "I'm saying that he recognized that it wasn't you, specifically. The moment your illusion acted out of character, he knew. He saw right through that imposter, because he knows the real you."

Heat rises in Willow's cheeks, a perfect match for the sunburnt scarlet that radiates from Hunter's cheekbones to the tips of his ears as she passes by a portrait of her pulling him into a hug alongside Gus. Willow remembers that day so clearly, the way he'd rushed to defend her, fought his own former allies to protect her and her fellow classmates from being branded with coven sigils.

The sunlight ends after one last portrait, casting the path up ahead in shadow. Vines twist around the edges of this portrait in equal measures of barb and blossom, joy and sorrow. 

A portrait of the day he first met her — bright green eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses and a smile that made his heart skip a beat — panic and anger surging through him as he'd watched that vile cheat knock her off her broom, instinctively reaching out for her, fingers interlocking with hers for the briefest of seconds as she'd handed off the other team's flags, the look of horror in his eyes as he'd hesitated, ready to swoop down and catch her, needing to make sure she'd landed safely, needing a literal push from Gus to get his head back in the game — cheering with streaks of green face paint as she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a group hug with his fellow teammates.

And here the vines grow darker, more menacing, a manifestation of guilt and shame — back turned to him in the cells, head hung low as she'd called herself Half-A-Witch Willow — tears in her eyes as she'd glared at him in defiance, refusing to budge even as he'd begged her to go. 

Even a year after it happened, after countless apologies and countless more reassurances that she forgives him, Hunter is still haunted by the memory of hurting her. She wants to say something, wants to reach out and offer him comfort, find a way to fix his memory of the day they first met — only there's nothing to repair, no burned or torn canvas, no cracked or splintered frame. This memory, like all those thorn-riddled portraits of his life as the former Golden Guard, is something only time can heal.

The last of Hunter's earliest memories pass them by in a blur, and Willow's heart aches for the little boy who'd limped and winced up to the gates of the castle covered in cuts and bruises from coven scout training, under strict orders not to go to the healing ward lest they find out what he is — for the little boy who'd sat all alone up in his room in the tallest tower, gazing longingly at the sunlit forest in the distance, wishing he could go outside and play — for the little boy who'd fallen asleep every night clutching the little pink frog that Big Brother Steve had bought for him, one of the few memories Hunter has of someone in that castle showing him an ounce of kindness—

Until finally, they reach the end of the path, where a magnificent old palistrom tree stands at the very edge of the forest, three hundred years old at least, with deep swirling grooves embedded in its pale blue oak, making it difficult, but not impossible, to locate the secret door carved into its side, so seamless it's easy to miss. It unlocks at Hunter's touch, swinging open to reveal a long, dark tunnel leading into what can only be the hidden lower levels.

One by one, they climb through the doorway, and without warning, find themselves sliding down a dark, twisting tunnel, kicking up speed the further down they go, until finally, they land in a room illuminated by flickering candlelight, Willow quick on her feet to conjure a soft, plushy flowerbed to cushion their fall.

Gold plated fixtures, polished stone, roaring sconces, and dusty old tapestries adorn the seemingly never-ending labyrinthine corridors of the Emperor's castle, and for a moment, all three of them panic that they've somehow ended up back there, until they notice the portraits that line the walls of each corridor, each one depicting someone who looks like Hunter, only…different. Here, lining the walls of some twisted recreation of the Emperor's old castle, live a series of memories that pre-date the Hunter they know, each wing dedicated to a different former Golden Guard.

"How many do you think there are?" Hunter asks, casting nervous glances at Gus and Willow.

"Well," says a voice that's so familiar, yet softened at the edges with an airy sort of formality, as its owner rounds the corner — a young man no older than seventeen, dressed in faded brown trousers and a plain white farmer's shirt rolled up to his elbows, with fluffy, light blond hair that sticks up in gravity-defying tufts, one loose forelock dangling between a pair of dark red eyes.

"Philip Wittebane—" he spits the name with no small amount of disgust, "found his way to the demon realm during the Deadwardian Era — one of his earliest recordings in that damnable journal of his is dated somewhere between 1660 and 1670 — and created me not long after his journey to Eclipse Lake. So, assuming that Hunter here is the last grimwalker Philip ever created, and assuming we all defected around the same age, give or take a few years in either direction, that would mean that there are—"

"Twenty-two of you," Willow supplies, doing the math inside her head.

"Wow," he says, gazing up at her in reverence. "Very clever of you."

He steps forward into the light so that he can get a better look at her, and his expression grows fond.

"Willow," he sighs her name like it's a breath of fresh air, reaching out to take her hand and press a gentle kiss against the back of it, startling a bashful oh wow out of her, and something sour twists in Hunter's stomach as he watches the interaction. "How lovely it is to finally meet you."

He stares at her for a beat longer, gaze soft and longing, before turning his attention to Gus. "And of course, Gus," he says with a warm smile, moving forward to shake his hand. "Our true brother, as far as I'm concerned."

Gus beams back at him in response.

"Hunter?" Willow asks, uncertain, fingertips absentmindedly tracing over the spot where he'd kissed her.

"Caleb the second, as it were," he replies, fond smile fading to something more bitter. "Yes, it seems dear Philip didn't start getting creative with our names until he had to make more of us. I was the first, you see, named after the very brother he sought to recreate. Sentimental, murderous old bastard," Caleb sneers, glaring at a tapestry of the late Emperor Belos, embroidered in fine gold threads.

"How did you escape?" Hunter asks, shaking him out of his spiteful musings. "I've been reading up on…our kind. According to the lore, you're all supposed to be trapped inside your portraits. How did you get out of yours? And if you were able to get out, then why haven't you…you know, moved on?"

Caleb's smile turns wistful. "You're not the first friends of grimwalkers that have attempted to help us," he says, nodding at Willow and Gus. "Darius managed the spell only once, found his way down to these hallowed halls with—"

"Me," another voice sounds from around the corner — bold, brazen, confident to the point of arrogance. "But Belos caught us before he had the chance to free us all…at which point, I was branded a traitor, and…well, you know what he did to us."

Hunter nods solemnly. "And Darius?"

"Terra gave him a potion to make him forget what we are. As far as Darius knows, I died in combat, on a mission gone wrong," he says, his expression sour. The moment his eyes land on Willow, however, his gaze immediately softens.

This new grimwalker is a little bit older than Caleb and Hunter, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with sharper features bearing about a dozen more jagged facial scars, dark blond stubble peppered across his chiseled jawline, and slightly longer, devil-may-care hair pulled back into a ponytail, signature forelock thick enough to be a set of bangs, casually swept to the side, partially obscuring one of his dark red eyes. 

He wears a fashionably shredded version of the old Golden Guard cloak draped over a black tunic, form-fitting trousers, and knee-length boots. He wouldn't look out of place in one of the photos Willow's seen of pop-punk boy bands back in the human realm, the kind Luz would refer to as teenage heartthrobs.

"The name's Jasper," he says, striding toward her with a graceful swagger, leaning down to press a kiss on either cheek. "And what an absolute pleasure it is to meet you, Captain."

"Oh, well it's, um…very nice to meet you too, Jasper," Willow giggles, a furious blush blossoming where Jasper has just kissed her, and Hunter's stomach writhes like a pit of snakes. As if things couldn't possibly get any worse, Jasper winks at her, flashing her a dazzling smile, before turning to address Gus.

"Darius and Gus, the two greatest — and only — brothers we've ever had," Jasper proclaims, tugging him into a one-armed hug, which Gus happily returns.

"How many of you managed to escape before Belos found you out?" Gus asks, casting a concerned side-eyed glance at Hunter, who looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. 

"Just three," Caleb replies. "Myself, Jasper, and—"

"William," says a third grimwalker, leisurely strolling into the room. 

There's a gentle, quiet grace about this one, nervous hands carding through thick, loose curls the color of orange blossom honey, a dusting of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose like brown sugar cinnamon. 

Where Hunter and Jasper are all hard lines and sharp edges, William's features are softer, more rounded, like Willow's. He walks in looking like the cover of a regency-era romance novel, dressed in a loose-flowing white shirt, dark lace-up trousers, and tall leather boots, coming to a sudden stop in front of Willow, pupils blown wide as he drinks her in.

"You are, if possible, even lovelier in person than you are in Hunter's many recollections," he says, soft-spoken and utterly besotted. "How wonderful it is to make your acquaintance." He, too, kisses the back of her hand, before sweeping into a low bow in front of her.

Willow's eyes widen, cheeks tinged pink as she stutters out a stunned, "Oh, um…thank you. It's wonderful to meet you, too."

"All of you," she adds with a flustered smile, glancing between the three Hunter lookalikes, who all beam back at her with his signature gap-toothed grin. Meanwhile, the inner Hunter simply stands there, watching this quaint little interaction unfold, feeling totally normal about it.

It's not like he could actually lose his chance with Willow to a better version of himself, right? That would be crazy.

He's fine.

Fine and normal and not at all jealous.

Of himself.

Fuck.

William gazes adoringly at Willow for another moment longer, before turning to smile at Gus.

"Gus," he says fondly, striding forward to shake his hand. "I so wish I'd had a friend like you in my time. I can't thank you enough for keeping this one company."

"Of course," Gus replies, offering William a warm smile before turning it on Hunter, reaching out to place a soothing hand between his shoulder blades. "He's one of my best friends, the brother I always wanted."

Hunter looks at him, some of the tension in his shoulders unraveling as he gives Gus a grateful smile.

"I hear you've also reunited with the original's palisman?" William asks, snapping Hunter's attention back to him. Hunter gives him a curt nod.

"Excellent," he says cheerfully. "A palisman should never be without their witch."

"Are you feeding him goreberries?" Jasper inquires with an arched eyebrow, and Hunter can tell by the faux criticism that he's being issued some kind of test.

"And crabapple claws," Hunter answers with a small smile. "Those are his favorite."

"I know," Jasper replies, returning Hunter's smile with a self-satisfied one of his own.

"Well then," Caleb announces, striding forward into the center of their little coterie so that all eyes are on him. "Now that we've all gotten acquainted, and, most crucially, that there is no longer a monster masquerading as a man to stand in our path this time…shall we endeavor to liberate the others?"

"Let's do this," Willow nods, slipping easily into that cool, confident captain persona that's been making Hunter's heart stutter since day one, a look of fierce determination in her eyes.

One by one, they enter the portraits of all the previous Golden Guards, and get to work setting them free. For most of them, all it takes is the knowledge that Belos has finally been defeated, that no more grimwalkers will ever be created, that the very last of them is alive and well on his way to living a good life. For others, all they need is the right guidance, for the inner Hunter, Willow, or Gus to take them by the hand and lead them out of the portrait, eager to finally be free.

At first, Willow worries that their efforts won't be enough, that they'll all end up trapped just like Caleb, Jasper, and William, doomed to roam these dark, depressing corridors for all eternity — until she sees the first transformation. 

As each grimwalker steps into the candlelit corridor, all of the portraits in their wing burst into a flurry of bright red cardinals that soar over the tops of their heads, up through the tunnel, and out through the little door carved into the side of the palistrom tree to join the others in the forest of Hunter's mindscape, their memories a part of Hunter's now.

Once their memories have taken flight, a path opens up at the very end of the wing — a doorway leading to a bright, open landscape — sometimes of a forest, sometimes of a beach, different each time, but equal in their tranquility — and as each one steps toward it, they turn back to offer the others a grateful smile, before disappearing through the doorway, swallowed in a burst of light as they pass on into the afterlife.

It wouldn't be fair to say that Caleb, Jasper, and William hinder their efforts, but they're not exactly focused on the task at hand either, all three of them utterly enchanted by Willow, spending the majority of their trips down memory lane following her around with hearts in their eyes, tripping over themselves to impress her. 

Caleb picks her a bouquet of pretty flowers from one of the other grimwalker's memories, fashions it into a crown, and places it atop Willow's head, lovingly tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear as he beams down at her and says, "There now, that's better. A queen should never be without her crown."

Jasper, on the other hand, expresses his admiration by continually trying to show off his strength and skill, regaling her with spirited tales of his many perilous, daring, and death-defying adventures with Darius, and offering to bridal-carry her across any even remotely muddy or dirty pathway.

William woos her with his words, reciting flowery poetry about how her eyes sparkle like emeralds and her hair is like the midnight sky, how he could happily lose himself tracing star patterns in the freckles that dapple the bridge of her nose.

Meanwhile the inner Hunter trudges along at the back of the queue looking like he's just sucked on a lemon. 

Gus does his best not to laugh, not wanting to come off as insensitive, it's just…for a genius teen prodigy, it's amazing how utterly dense Hunter can be sometimes.

Of course Willow is a flustered, giggling mess, blushing so hard she's practically glowing red — anyone would be, if they too were surrounded by three versions of the guy they've been head over heels stupid for for the past year, dark red eyes identical to Hunter's gazing at her in smitten adoration, voices that sound just like Hunter's flirting and impressing and romancing her. 

And all the while, Willow's gaze keeps flitting back to him, to her Hunter, willing him to look her way.

They make their way through each of the grimwalker's wings until only three remain — Caleb's, Jasper's, and William's — and though they try everything in their power to set them free, combing through every portrait lining the walls of each of their corridors, searching for something to repair, some form of a catalyst to spark, nothing happens — no sudden burst of cardinal wings, no long-lost memories added to Hunter's mindscape, no doorways opening at the end of the hall to welcome them into the afterlife.

"I don't understand," Willow frets, glancing between the three of them with an apologetic frown. "Did we do something wrong?"

"Of course not," Caleb reassures her with an encouraging smile, taking both of her hands in his and giving her palms an affectionate three-pulse squeeze. "You've done beautifully."

"Then why are you all still here?" Hunter asks, perhaps with a little more venom than is strictly necessary.

"I suppose it's because our transformations were interrupted," William ventures, looking pensive. "I'm beginning to suspect that none of us will be able to pass on until we've joined the original."

"You mean—" Hunter starts.

"Caleb Wittebane," Jasper replies, and it's the first time any of them have ever heard him sound humbled. "The human."

"Where is he?" Hunter asks, equal parts nervous about the prospect of meeting the blueprint for his very existence, and yet dying to know what he was like.

"We're not sure," Caleb II answers. "In all the years we've roamed these halls, we've never once been able to find him."

"We must have overlooked something," Willow says, renewed determination sparking to life in her eyes. "Come on, he's got to be around here somewhere."

"You go on ahead, ma chérie," Jasper says with a flirtatious grin, and oh, of course he knows French, the charming bastard. "We'd like to have a chat with our little brother," he explains, inclining his head toward Hunter, whose face breaks out in sheepish bright red blotches. He waits until Willow and Gus are out of earshot, smile slipping from his features as he turns to face Hunter, one eyebrow arched in silent accusation.

"I just have one question," he says, his tone even and unassuming as he presses the tips of his fingers together in that same quiet contemplation Hunter has seen of Darius, right before he levels someone with a scathing remark. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jasper explodes. 

Aaaaand there it is.

"What?" Hunter splutters in response, torn between defense, offense, and utter confusion.

"Willow," Jasper says with emphasis, like her name is all the explanation needed.

"What— what about Willow?" Hunter asks, hackles raised.

"She is amazing," Caleb states it like it's an irrefutable fact, like he's explaining something very simple to someone very stupid. "Why have you not yet told her how you feel?"

Hunter's face turns about fifty different shades of red. "I— well, I—" he stutters.

"Were I in your fortune-favored position, I would have already asked her to be my wife," William says, like that's a perfectly normal thing to expect, and Hunter is just woefully behind the times.

"We're sixteen!" Hunter exclaims, face reaching critical levels of ruddiness, to the point where he genuinely starts to worry he's going to give himself heatstroke from the temperature of his own skin.

"Well, okay. Willow is sixteen. I'm seventeen," he amends, running a nervous hand through his hair and wincing when his forelock snaps back and hits him in the eye. "Which is still way too young to be thinking about any of that! Mother Of Titan, I'm having enough trouble working up the nerve just to ask her to be my girlfriend, let alone my—" Hunter chokes on the word, terrified that if he says it out loud, the ensuing blush will start a forest fire.

"Ah yes, of course. My apologies. Different customs for different time periods," William amends with a casual wave of his hand. "Although," he adds, lips pulling into an amused smirk. "You have already thought about it, haven't you? Or at the very least, doodled it in the margins of your school notes: Mr. and Mrs. Hunter and Willow Park. Remember, we know everything that goes on in your mind."

"The point is," Caleb interjects before William can reveal the extent of everything they've witnessed wandering the depths of Hunter's mindscape all these years, not wanting to embarrass him further. "You have been in love with her for nearly a year. You should have asked her to be your something by now."

"I—" Hunter falters, heart hammering in his ribcage, terrified that at any minute, Willow could come back and overhear everything. "I just haven't found the right moment to—"

"If you don't, I will," Jasper threatens with an air of impatient boredom, shoulders rolling in a casual shrug as he crosses his arms over his chest, and if Hunter wasn't busy spluttering in indignation, he'd be laughing at how much this previous version reminds him of Darius. Luckily, he's saved the effort of having to come up with a response, the other two rounding on him before Hunter gets the chance.

"How?" Caleb scoffs, rolling his eyes like Jasper's mere presence vexes him.

"You are literally a memory," William counters with an incredulous laugh.

"I'll make it work!" Jasper exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. "Long distance? I don't know! She's just so…" he trails off with a lovesick sigh.

"I know," Hunter bites out, frustration allowing him to find his voice again. "I know she is. And that's exactly the problem, isn't it? She's so amazing, and I'm just…me." Hunter frowns, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Oh I see," William stage-whispers to Caleb. "This one's got self-esteem issues."

"Excuse me, asshole," Jasper scoffs, full offense, ego bristling. "We're you, and we find that insulting!"

"What he means to say," Caleb heaves a long-suffering sigh, casting a withering glare at Jasper. "Is that you should give yourself a little more credit. Think of how much you've overcome, how much you've had to endure."

Caleb places a reassuring hand on either side of Hunter's shoulders and fixes him with a reverent smile. "You come from a long line of brave men who were made to be these perfect little soldiers, raised by a tyrant who managed to fool an entire realm into believing his cock-and-bull belief system, yet your good heart and morals won out every time. You should be proud. I know I am."

Hunter stares at him, the corners of his eyes stinging, lower lip quivering as it pulls into a tentative smile.

"And as for Willow," William prompts with a cheeky smile. "You may not have caught the way she looked at you every time you were too busy sulking to notice, but we sure did, and I'm willing to bet dollars to donuts that she is just as smitten as you are."

Hunter can't even begin to process that right now — Willow, looking over at him? Willow, smitten? For him? — so instead, he latches on to something simpler.

"Dollars to donuts?" he asks, one eyebrow arched in wry amusement.

William shrugs. "It's something I heard our sister — Luz, the human — say once, and I daresay I developed a liking for it."

"Speaking of which," Caleb chimes in with a cheerful smile. "Next time you're in the human realm, do try a donut. For my sake. I hear they're delicious. Perhaps that's where you can take Willow on your first date," he adds with an encouraging wink.

"Or," Jasper cuts in, looking thoroughly unimpressed by this suggestion. "There's this swanky little coffee shop in Latissa that Darius and I used to frequent whenever we were pretending to be out on patrol. I…think it's still around?"

Hunter arches his eyebrows in surprise, and Jasper rolls his eyes.

"Listen," he says, sighing like he's making some big self-sacrifice. "A girl like that deserves the world, so if she can't be with the best version of us—"

"Jasper—"

"Then I suppose you'll have to do," he finishes, lips curling into a supportive, if teasing, smile. 

Caleb sighs and shakes his head, while William purses his lips to keep from laughing.

"Despite the arrogant sod's delusions of grandeur, he is right about one thing," William says, lips quirking up into an amused little smirk at the sound of Jasper's theatrical gasp of outrage. "Willow deserves the world. So, when all of this gets sorted, and it's finally my time to pass on, I'll be leaving you with all the memories of the sonnets I used to compose. Do try and remember at least one of them, will you? Willow deserves to be wooed with poetry and love letters."

Hunter swallows thickly, blushing bright red at the very thought, but nods.

"Look," he sighs, glancing between his three well-intentioned (albeit infuriatingly meddlesome) counterparts. "Obviously, I agree with you — Willow deserves all of those things and more. It's just…I think you're all vastly overestimating my chances, here. Willow deserves so much better than—"

"Okay, enough with the pity party," Jasper interrupts, slinging an arm around Hunter's shoulders like a big brother about to dole out sage life advice. "Look dude, we're not out to get you, or ruin your life, or rush you into doing something you're not ready for, alright? We just want to make sure you're not holding yourself back from something potentially amazing just because you don't think you're good enough, or that you don't deserve to be happy."

"For once we're all in agreement," Caleb says, looking sarcastically astonished.

"Beautifully said, brother," William quips, flashing him a teasing smile.

Jasper playfully flips them off, before turning his attention back on Hunter.

"We've been through some pretty traumatic shit," he says, the cocky edge in his tone fading to something softer, wistful. "But you're the lucky one. You're the one who gets to go back out there and live a full life. So go live it. Be happy. Allow yourself to do the things that make you happy."

Hunter stares at him, eyes so very like his own, but with all the wisdom and experience of an older brother. Someone who's really seen the world. Someone with regrets, who wishes he'd gotten the chance to see more of it. 

Hunter opens his mouth to respond, to promise him, to promise all of them, that once this is all over, he's going to go back out there and do his best to live the life they all deserved — but before he can get the words out, Willow calls out to them, and all at once, four fluffy blond heads turn in the direction of her voice.

"Hunter?" she calls first. "Caleb, Jasper, William…we found him."

• • •

The wing where all of Caleb Wittebane's portraits reside has been hidden away for centuries behind an illusion of polished stone and gilded gold, visible only because Gus had thought to bring Adrian Graye's old magic amplifying mirror. The edges of the doorway fit inside the wall so seamlessly it's almost impossible to see even without the illusion, locked until Hunter presses his hand against the frame, twisting his wrist to turn an invisible handle.

The inside is a stark contrast to Belos's cold, dark castle halls, corridor lined with handsome hand-carved bookshelves filled with well-loved, dog-eared novels, ticking grandfather clocks, and little wooden figurines that look remarkably like unfinished palismen, portraits framed in polished mahogany across a canvas of handsome scrollwork paneling.

At the very end of the hall, they find him, waiting for them inside a memory of his wedding day, mere moments before he's set to walk down the aisle. He's in his dressing room, standing in front of an ornate mirror, attempting the fool's errand of smoothing back that one stubborn forelock they all seem to have inherited from him, sighing as he casts adoring, misty eyes on a photo of a woman with bright green eyes, dark red hair, and a mischievous smile, tucked into the corner of the mirror, along with a folded letter bearing the signature W. Clawthorne punctuated by a drawing of two cardinals circling a heart.

"After all this time, I can finally join you," Caleb whispers, pressing a kiss to the tips of his fingers and placing it on her picture.

Dark brown eyes find the six of them in the reflection of the mirror, lips pulling into a fond smile. "I was wondering when you lot would find me," he says, turning around to face them.

"The others have all moved on, leaving just us four. Are you ready?" he asks, inclining his head toward Caleb II, Jasper, and William, who all give a firm nod in reply.

"Good," he smiles warmly, stepping through the frame of the ornate mirror and out into the corridor, reaching out a hand to help each of them step through the other side of the portrait. 

The moment they leave the memory, every portrait in the wing bursts into a flock of bright red cardinals, zooming through the hidden door and up to the surface, just as it had done with all of the other grimwalkers' memories. At the very end of the hall, a doorway opens into a forest lit by warm, golden sunlight, birdsong a soothing symphony in the distance, welcoming them home.

"There's just one more thing I've got to do," Caleb tells the others, stepping forward and pulling Hunter into an all-encompassing bear hug, closing his eyes and tucking his chin into the curve of Hunter's shoulder. Hunter freezes for a moment, arms hovering uselessly in the air around either side of him, before tentatively wrapping them around Caleb's shoulders, melting into the embrace. It's the closest he's ever felt to being hugged by a father.

"Hunter," he says with deep abiding affection and pride, punching a startled sob out of Hunter's chest. He doesn't realize he's started crying until he's already soaked Caleb's shoulder. "I am so sorry for everything my brother has done to you. To all of you. Now that he is gone, I hope you can live the life you deserve, the kind of life we all deserved."

Caleb pauses, pulling back to look at him, a hand on either side of his shoulders. Hunter sniffles, taking the momentary lull to wipe his eyes. When Caleb looks at him, there's no judgment, no scorn, no pity in his eyes, only warmth, and something wistful, bittersweet.

"I have spent all this time living in that memory because it was the happiest day of my life," Caleb tells him, glancing back at the empty space where the portrait of his wedding day used to hang. "But I know what my future holds from that point onward. Not long before I died, my wife and I had a child, and I have it on very good authority that he survived." Caleb's lips tug into a hopeful smile. "Hunter, you have ancestors in the Clawthorne line. Find them, reestablish a connection to your family."

Hunter stares at him in awe, fresh tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He swallows thickly, giving him an enthusiastic nod in response.

Eda. He has to find Eda — and Lilith, and Gwendolyn, and Dell. His family.

Hunter can't seem to make his voice work properly, throat tight with emotion, but Caleb smiles back at him like he understands. He gives Hunter's shoulders one last affectionate squeeze before pulling away to address Willow and Gus.

"Thank you for looking after him," he tells them, fixing them with a grateful smile. "I cannot thank you two enough for helping him to finally free us. Hunter is very lucky to have such wonderful companions by his side."

"Of course," Gus replies, beaming up at him.

"We would do anything for him," Willow says, and Hunter feels his face heat from the intensity of her conviction. 

He doesn't miss the way Caleb's smile turns to one of fond amusement as his gaze pendulums between his and Willow's bashful, blushing smiles, but is thankful that, unlike the others, he makes no comment.

"Come on then, you three rascals," he says, affectionately ruffling Caleb II, Jasper, and William's hair, embarrassing them like an overbearing father as they sheepishly wave goodbye to Willow.

"And Hunter," Caleb says, pausing just a few paces from the sunlit door. "I want you to know how proud I am of you. Of all of you. To think, I left this world with one son, and now here I am with twenty-two," Caleb smiles, brimming with a bittersweet sort of happiness and unwavering pride.

Hunter's breath hitches around all the words he wishes he could say to him, to all of them, settling instead on a simple thank you and good luck on the other side, watching as the four them — Caleb the first, Caleb the second, Jasper, and William — walk through the sunlit doorway and disappear in a burst of blinding light.

Before the three of them can so much as exchange a single glance, the light expands, washing out the landscape, briefly flickering from the book-adorned halls of Caleb's corridor to the soft green and golden hues of Hunter's mindscape, and then— nothingness. 

When they open their eyes, they're back in Eda's living room, Hunter stirring on the couch, Willow and Gus seated on the hardwood floor in the remnants of the deactivated spell circle, and the whole room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

"Hey kid," Eda says with a smile that's equal parts affection and concern, arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe leading into the kitchen. "How'd it go?"

Hunter's attention snaps to her, and a wide smile spreads across his face. He feels like he's looking at her through brand new eyes, drinking in every previously overlooked detail — how did he never notice all the similarities between them before? She's his family. Hunter has a family. All this time, they've been right here, and he never even knew.

But he'll get to that. There's someone else he needs to talk to first.

His gaze falls on Willow, affection spreading through his chest like summer sunlight as she stares up at him with a soft smile and wide, hopeful eyes. Bright green, like the meadows in his mindscape, like flowering vines, like emeralds.

"I'll tell you all about it when we get back," he says in answer to Eda's question, easing himself up from the couch to ensure his balance is still intact, before leaning down and offering his hand to Willow, gently tugging her to her feet. "But first…Willow, will you take a walk with me? There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

• • •

A few months later finds Hunter seated at the table in the Clawthorne's kitchen, enjoying the slightly chaotic atmosphere of another post-family dinner as Gwendolyn breaks out old photo albums to show Luz, Amity, Gus, and King, who all snicker as Eda, Lilith, Darius, and Raine groan at memories of bad haircuts, braces, and acne from their high school picture days. 

He's learned to tune it out by now, letting it become a soft, soothing lull in the background, listening intently as Dell tells him tales about carving his very first palisman. Flapjack twitters cheerfully from his perch on Hunter's shoulder, while Willow sits beside him, holding his hand, preening as Dell fixes her with a praising smile and tells Hunter that it's a good thing his girlfriend is so adept at plant magic — after all, he'll need all the help he can get if he's to carry on the family business and learn how to grow his own palistrom trees someday.

Elements of this story were inspired by these posts: [1] [2] [3]

[the-astral-archives]

Hello!

I'm very new to paganism, after being fairly atheist for a while (growing up presbyterian). I'd like to start worshipping Persephone but I'm not quite sure where to even start. Are there any tips you have for new practicers? I understand if this is out of your field(?) but I don't know any people who practice paganism in real life </3 and I figured it be good to contact people with a background in that kind of thing.

Thank you so much!

Greetings, dear star! Thanks for sending in an ask! While we are still newer ourself to our journey, we have learned many tips that have assisted us from others for when you are just started out. I apologize if things are confusing, as we are recovering from sickness currently, but we will try our best to provide some tips for new practicers so you, and others, will have an easier time getting started!

Research (Books, Sites, Historical Articles, etc.)

Research, research, research. I cannot stress how important and insightful research can be. There are tons of books and reliable sources on the gods and about hellenic polytheism that will help provide context on ancient Greece and how worship was done in ancient times compared to modern day. Reading about the gods helps not only provide insight on how they were worshipped and information about their myths and domains, but it can also be generally seen as a devotional act when you take the time to learn about them! They appreciate you educating yourself and your willingness to learn more. Look at different views of hellenic polytheism and terms. Remember to take things slow, and you don’t need to know everything quickly or at once!

You Don’t Need An Altar

When viewing hellenic polytheism, you may see people share images of altars/shrines they have as a sacred space to connect with their deity or provide offerings to them. While it may seem nice to you to have an altar for your deity, it isn’t required, and your deities that you worship will not judge you for not having an altar. If you do want to make an altar, then that’s fine! Altars do not need to be large or expensive. Some practicers create ‘pocket altars’ as an example, small objects representing the deity in a container such as a tin. Pocket altars are both portable and great for those who may be closeted in their practice, as it is discreet. Digital altars are also a great inexpensive method, such as through pinterest boards or creating memorials within videogames!

It Doesn’t Need To Be Expensive

Adding onto the altars, but expanding onto offerings, things do not need to be expensive. You don’t need to pour out money you don’t have to please the gods. Your thought alone is already putting in the effort of showing you care. Offerings are not required, and the gods will not be upset for you not being able to provide them. Offerings don’t need to be expensive liquor, pouring a glass of water is plenty already. A struggle I personally had, and sometimes it still creeps up on me, is knowing I don’t need everything to be extravagant for the gods to accept me. I keep a few small decorations and candles, and pour some water for them and share my lunches when I can. That’s more than enough to them for my situation. A lot of my dedication goes into my devotional acts, which we will get into soon.

Building Kharis

Building Kharis is very important to forming a relationship and strong bond with your gods. A relationship does not just strengthen overnight, it takes time and effort. Through offerings, devotion, prayer, and general appreciation and acknowledgement, you help to build kharis with your gods and form a relationship with them. For those who only build kharis to ask for offers and nothing more, I advise you back away. You shouldn’t be building a relationship to use the gods. It’s okay to ask for things, but don’t expect them to give you everything you wish for. The relationship you want to create should be genuine, with proper boundaries and respect. As you build Kharis, you may begin to notice how your relationship grows, and how communication, for example, becomes easier with your god or how their presence becomes clearer. Building Kharis is a process that takes time and provides great reward. When you are forming this relationship, you may notice your experiences with your god are different from someone else’s, and that’s okay. Not everyone’s relationship is going to look the same, because it’s your relationship between you and the deity. What personal experience you have is going to look different from another person’s and there is nothing wrong with that.

Devotional Acts

Devotional acts are another form of offerings outside of food and libation (liquids). These can be numerous things. Cooking or drinking tea with the gods in mind, creating handmade crafts, talking a walk out in nature, engaging in activities within your gods domain—these are just a few examples of what devotional acts can look like. It doesn’t need to always be high effort, especially when you don’t have the energy or need to care for yourself. Your thought about gods alone, and something as simple as saying ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’ are still great devotional acts and help build kharis each day.

Trial and Error

You’re going to get it wrong, and that’s okay. Nobody is perfect. Nobody is going to pray properly their first time or know every last detail about the deity their worshipping. It’s why you constantly research as you go. The journey as a whole is a constant learning process, and the gods are here to help you on your way. Embrace the mistakes that you are going to make, and learn from them instead of treating them as a burden. To see you reevaluate and grow is what the gods want, and will be proud of you for increasing your understanding.

I really hope this helps in some way for you, and I wish you luck on your journey! I do apologize for the long post, but I really hope some of this information will be good starting points and pointers when going through your worship. May the stars guide you and provide you safe travels! ⭐️

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 2

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; swearing, a LOT of canon archon quest yappery (sorry)

note ; part two baybee!! in comparison to the ao3 version of this, i’ve decided to merge the chapters two by two to make them seem longer and since so far, i’ve only written five- next one might take a little longer to come out. or maybe i’ll just post chapter 5 stand-alone, who knows

also i’ve got a taglist now!

previous | next | masterlist

your arrival in liyue harbor goes less than stellar.

the port is packed full of people who are either confused or outraged at the line of millelith soldiers who refuse to let anyone through. you end up waiting in a line for an annoying amount of time, up until you’re finally attended to by a soldier.

“i’m sorry but liyue harbor is not accepting in any tourists, we are trying to keep our… current situation under control as best we can while investigations are still in order, i hope you can understand.” the millelith states formally.

“oh, well err- i’m no tourist, i was born in liyue harbor! my parents migrated from overseas many years ago and i was just on a leisurely trip to snezhnaya, haha…” you lie through your teeth.

the mere mention of snezhnaya sets off the most minute reaction in the millelith solider, hence why you’re under a fake identity to begin with. you politely hand him a folder with forged documents so gracefully provided to you by your employers and pray to your lucky stars- and, well, tsaritsa, that it’s good enough for him to let you pass.

the soldier remains neutral for a few seconds as he eyes through the paper.

“very well. but please behave in an orderly fashion inside the city, as i said the trail on the ahem- incident is still fresh. welcome home.”

it takes a lot out of you not to snort at the welcome.

the poor naïve man truly wasn’t lying- the inside of the harbor was just as tumultuous as the outside. people in the streets gather in small groups and anxiously whisper their worries to each other. but most of all, they eye you suspiciously like you were the one to stab a sword through rex lapis with the entire harbor watching. you’d say they’re within reason to do so, losing their protector god and all.

you wouldn’t call yourself the most devoted of subjects but you’d also hate to imagine a snezhnaya without the tsaritsa so… benevolently

watching over it. challenging the heavenly principles like she has would certainly cause a catastrophic bite in the ass for the nation if she were to perish. maybe you could be a devoted subject enough to prevent that from happening.

drowning in a whirlpool of your own thoughts, you don’t even realize you’re already standing in front of the northland bank branch of liyue harbor. you try to walk inside as discreetly as possible, so as to not raise any suspicion toward you from the millelith or civilians and to not disturb the workers inside the bank.

unfortunately your efforts are in vain, because you’re recognized immediately.

“ah, sergeant y/n! we were expecting that you would arrive soon. please, allow me to take care of your luggage.” calls out the receptionist, ekaterina.

not only does she practically announce your arrival, she does it while the very bane of your existence is present in the main hall of the bank, formerly distracted as he spoke to a blonde woman in the strangest garments you’ve ever seen and a uh… floating baby?

childe’s ears, no- his entire body, almost instinctively perk up at the mention of your name and he abruptly stops his sentence midway through to look over to the entrance, to you.

“y/n? what in the name of the tsaritsa are you doing here?” he inquires, eyebrows furrowed with the purest of confusions. that is until he remembers the traveler and paimon are still present and most definitely more perpexled than he is.

so he decides to save face before anything else.

“missed me too much?” childe adds cockily.

your eyes almost roll on their own accord. “whatever you’d like to tell yourself. unfortunately, they decided to station me here to help… stabilize the situation, surely that has nothing to do with you screwing up?”

he scoffs. “there’s been nothing to screw up. in fact, the situation is plentiful under control and we’ve already devised a plan to solve it. your intrusion is unneede-”

“wh- you big liar! we literally met after you kicked a bunch of millelith butt in broad daylight! we’ve been stumbling up and down these past few days just to clear our names.” the floating baby speaks up.

you cock your head to the side at the revelation with curiosity and just a smidgen of smugness.

“and you! don’t think just because paimon likes making fun of childe doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. we heard what the lady called you, you’re fatui just like mr. pants-on-fire over here. just who are you anyway?!” the floating baby glides over to you with an accusatory finger pointed and a suspicious squint to her eyes.

the blonde woman, who’s been radio silent this entire time, merely puts a hand on the floating one’s shoulder to pull her back, though she also looks wary of you.

childe laughs at the display and holds out a formal hand as to introduce you. “traveler, paimon, this is y/n, my.. coworker as you can obviously tell. don’t worry though, they’re not a bad guy or kind of a bad guy like me, you have nothing to worry about. they’re actually an amazingly talented battle medic and head nurse of the fatui, that’s why they carry the sergeant title.”

you’re taken aback for a brief moment at the unexpected praise. you were waiting for just a formal introduction of your position in the fatui, or even one that contained a little snarky comment about your attitude towards him. but no, he only complimented your talents. it’s almost a little too courtly too.

“y/n, this is the traveler and paimon. these two not from around here but they unfortunately managed to land right in the bullseye of the incident and are being considered murder suspects. i’m merely helping them clear their names.”

ah, there’s the kicker. he’s “helping” those two.

you know childe well enough to comprehend that he wouldn’t just help some strangely dressed bystanders if he didn’t think he could snake his way into benefit, in this case most likely the geo gnosis. that’s why he’s trying to make somewhat of a good image for himself and those associated. conniving bastard.

then again, takes one to know one.

“so it’s true then, rex lapis is dead.” you hum. “but why has the millelith jumped to the conclusion that it was a murder so quickly? what exactly happened in the rite of descension?”

“weeell, the ceremony was starting just fine and dandy when suddenly the sky got unusually dark and then- bam! thunder strikes and this huge amber dragon drops dead from the sky.” paimon explains dramatically before shivering.

“eugh… really gave paimon the heebie-jeebies… then, the tianquan went over to examine the body and immediately announced it was a murder.”

“interesting.. did the dragon seem to have any visible injuries? any slashes or punctures? weapons sticking out of his body?”

“it’s tricky to say, as i was just relaying onto the traveler before you arrived, the qixing have long since confiscated the exuvia and are refusing to let anyone see it.” childe joins in, looking down pensively with a hand on his chin.

“it feels too early to draw any conclusions but paimon can confidently say it was not us and our names are squeaky clean! either way, we should get going- we’ve done so much walking up mountains since we got here and it’s making paimon famished.”

“see, you keep saying that but you still float, paimon-“ you hear the traveler say as the pair turns to leave.

“oh shush, you!!”

the air between the remaining two of you is thick with awkwardness. you decide to be one to break it once the traveler and paimon are well away from earshot.

“so, how will your charitable little side quest tie into getting the gnosis?”

“hah, you’ve barely arrived and you’re looking so far ahead?”

“aren’t you? in fact, didn’t you say you’d already ‘devised plan to solve it’ and that my presence was ‘unneeded’?” you question, accentuating the quotings in your sentence with a less than half-assed impression of childe’s own pesky tone at the time.

“jeez, i do not sound like that-“

“not the point-“

“yes yes, whatever… for the record i do already have a plan.” he admits. “unfortunately for you, doc, it is a bit airtight and therefore- your interference is unneeded.”

“y’know what, you’re right. if someone like you is describing their plans as airtight then maybe it’s best if i stay out of its splash zone.” you bite back and childe scoffs.

“who even ordered you be sent here?”

the malicious grin grows on your face with haste.

“the jester.”

“wha-?! argh, that old man…”

—

“ekaterina?”

“yes- how may i help you, sergeant?”

“what would be your recommendations for restaurants ‘round here?”

evening was nearing and you could feel the emptiness eating at your stomach from the inside. the few days that had passed of your stay in liyue were remarkably unremarkable. half of your time was spent cooped up in northland bank with diplomatic or medical paperwork while the other half was you doing whatever discreet investigation inside the city that you could, up to little avail.

childe was moving forward with his scheming while effectively keeping you completely in the dark from it- well not completely, as he wasn’t the only stubborn one out of the two of you. some intel about his flawless, artful plan had “slipped out” (meaning you pried it out of ekaterina) and come to your knowledge- for example, today he’d be going out to meet with the traveler and paimon for another meeting with one of his… contacts, he called it. you just didn’t know where.

luckily your source of discovering that had just walked through the door.

“welcome, friend of childe! and congratulations on the first day of your illustrious career with the fatui.” ekaterina greets formally and you’re too late to stop yourself from visibly cringing.

“i have no intention of joining the fatui.” the traveler says curtly.

“you sound remarkably sure of yourself… remember, we are mere mortals- our ideas are fluid like water. only the tsaritsa truly has a will as solid as permafrost.”

you huff at the receptionist’s straightforwardness.

“i’m sure we can maintain.. beneficial connections without anyone signing away their names. why don’t we keep to the matter of this visit?” with a slightly forced business smile, you try to ease the traveler’s stone-like expression. thought, if you were in her shoes you believe you’d react much the same.

and you would sure as hell never recommend for someone to join the fatui.

“hm, yes, back to the matter at hand- childe tells me that he has upheld his end of your agreement.”

“what agreement? ..oh, the thing about him helping us find a guy?” paimon inquires.

“correct. childe promised he would find someone to break the stalemate. and harbingers do not break their promises lightly.”

this time you succeed in internalizing your reaction to the comment- from your personal experience, childe did not exactly fit that concept. but there was no time for dwelling on that now.

“ah, where is that guy anyway?”

“childe is currently at liuli pavilion.”

bingo.

“liuli pavilion?” you ask.

“oh, oh! paimon knows this one!” paimon exclaims, proceeding to give an insight of the rival cooking styles of liyue and you almost admire how dedicated she is to liking food so… academically. you’re half zoning out at their conversation when your stomach traitorously growls for all ears to hear.

“hey, y/n, why don’t you join us? you’re a friend of childe’s too afterall!” the floating guide propositions naively.

“ah err… i-i wouldn’t describe it like that, plus, i wasn’t invited to this meeting. i’d hate to intrude.” you try to wave it off. while this could be your current best chance at receiving more context on their investigation, you’d rather not do it where childe would catch onto you.

“well it won’t hurt to ask him! c’mon, at least walk with us, you’ll have to find a place to eat anyway.” paimon drags you by the sleeve out of northland bank, along with the traveler, with unexpected strength in her grasp.

the streets are bustling with people, walking back and forth as they also step out to guarantee themselves some dinner. the crowd covers the sight of liuli pavilion’s entrance and it’s not until you’ve actually arrived that childe sees you.

he looks no less than befuddled.

“aha, y-you’ve made it…” he laughs awkwardly, clearly not expecting the current situation to ever occur. “care to explain the plus one?”

“they’re just that! they were also looking for a place to eat so we invited them to join us.” paimon contextualizes, oblivious to the silent glare battle taking place between the two of you.

“w-well anyhow-“ childe effectively retreats from the as promised, i’ve found someone who can help you. someone who can solve the mystery of why the liyue qixing would hide the geo archon’s vessel.”

“so.. where is he? in liuli pavilion?”

“he certainly is. come, i’ll… introduce you.” he intends to sound cheerful but the last part of his sentence comes out the smidgen most strained as his eyes flicker to you momentarily.

“i took the liberty of setting up a business dinner, as per liyue custom.”

the traveler and paimon walk ahead and get distracted with the warm welcome of the restaurant’s staff while you and childe try not to jump to an argument then and there.

“trust me, i resisted this impromptu invite as much as i could.” you mutter, preferring to look at the surroundings rather than the harbinger beside you.

“good, because you won’t be joining anyway.” he replies coldly as he starts walking inside ahead of you.

“at least let me see the damn restaurant first, maybe i won’t join your table but that doesn’t mean i won’t eat there.”

“how will i know you’re not listening in on our busine-“

“childe? y/n? c’mon, let’s get to our table!” paimon calls out from further into the pavilion.

as you round to the reserved table, you see a brown-haired man in refined amber clothing seated at the far end of it, tea in hand. somehow you think you’ve seen him before but only out in the streets, perhaps at third-round knockout listening to the storyteller at the front tables.

“yes yes, i’m here.” childe steps up, half-sheepish at his late arrival. “unfortunately, y/n won’t be joining us as they have other matters to attend to.” he says like you’re not standing right beside him.

“really? but y/n didn’t say anything, plus, they seemed like they were awfully hungry-“

“forgive the intrusion but, childe, might this be the same y/n you’ve mentioned before?”

the man at the table joins in and childe looks like he’s promptly died on the spot. you, however, look elated at the revelation.

so elated that you don’t see the flush of red that plagues childe’s face and ears.

“why yes, i might just be.” the grin on your face seems only friendly to the other three and only the harbinger feels it’s real sting of triumph.

“then, please, let us all eat together.”

you all waste no more time to do so, childe sits on the man’s right, you sit beside him while the traveler and paimon mirror you on the other side- well, paimon at least floats on top of the chair.

“allow me to introduce mr. zhongli, consultant to an organization known as wansheng… and a trusted associate of the fatui.”

“wansheng?” the traveler asks.

“indeed.” the redhead answers. “wansheng’s line of work can be… sensitive at times. let’s just say they understand when discretion is needed. and we, the fatui, have always been glad to do business with friends who walk in the shadows.”

“w-walk in the shadows..?” paimon shivers.

“it is an honor to meet you. i have heard tell of you from mondstat.” zhongli turns to you. “you as well, doctor, i have been meaning to arrange for us to meet ever since hearing word of you from childe.”

you’re pleasantly surprised by him calling you doctor for a moment, as no one has ever really referred to you in such a respectful manner. sure, childe and others have called you “doc” playfully but never fully doctor.

and then you remember who the title is usually reserved for.

“discretion… shadows… ah! is wansheng some kind of business involving… ‘dealing’ with people?” paimon panics.

“indeed. it is as you have guessed.”

“ahh!!” she screams.

“don’t worry, wansheng is a funeral parlor.” you assure her amusedly and paimon’s fear shifts to confusion.

zhongli cluelessly nods in affirmation. “the wansheng funeral parlor organizes burials. we ensure that those who pass on do so in peace.”

“e-eh?”

you hear childe laugh warmly from beside you, the warmest you’ve heard from him in years. “did you think he was some sort of hired killer? the fatui calls many such people friends, but the wansheng funeral parlor does not dabble in such business… well, ostensibly.”

“ostensibly?” you question.

“well, they are still- ah, i shouldn’t say too much. in any case, i brought you to meet mr. zhongli because…”

“because i can bring you to see rex lapis’ vessel.” the consultant follows up plainly.

“what?!” exclaims paimon.

“ha, don’t be so surprised. sure, the geo archon’s body has been squirreled away by order of the tianquan ningguang… but first, let’s hear what mr. zhongli has to say, shall we?”

how childe managed to hide such a supposed fatui associate, an insanely useful one at that, from you with all the snooping around you’d been doing is beyond your mortal comprehension. what baffles you even more is his unwavering determination to keep you as far away from the entire operation as possible, going against the order of your involvement that came directly from not only dottore, the very second fatui harbinger, but also the director of all of the fatui himself.

unfortunately you’ll still need to wait until zhongli preaches his tale before you get to strangle childe where he stands.

“rex lapis may be the prime of adepti, but he is ultimately an adeptus. many adepti have left us over the millennia- this is the inexorable trend.”

zhongli turns to the traveler. “the times have changed- you must have felt it too when you were at jueyun karst.” with the travelers confirmation, he continues. “as you have seen, the time of adepti is ending, and the time of mankind is slowly dawning.”

the dinner proceeds with talks of the rite of passing and as the traveler and zhongli become more well acquainted, they all agree to leave liuli pavilion and further discuss their arrangements.

“you can go if you want to, don’t worry about me. i might just have a few more drinks…” childe dismisses the two travelers.

“and me also. somebody needs to teach a certain other someone how to use chopsticks if we’re to stay in liyue for a good while.” you imply half-jokingly, grateful that the two get on their way quick so you can give the redhead beside you an exclusive earful.

as you feel your cheeks start to warm with the burn of the alcohol, you down decisively the last one of your drinks for the night and slam the cup on the table with vigor.

“am i some sort of joke to you?”

childe almost chokes on his own beverage at the suddenness. “e-excuse me?”

“actually no, let me rephrase that- do you think it’s funny to play around with the job i’ve been assigned here and purposefully leave me to wander around streets i don’t know like a bumbling idiot while you keep contacts like mr.fucking-rex-lapis-historian under your belt?” you practically bark.

“y/n, please, i think you might’ve drank too mu-“

“answer the question or so help me celestia, i will leave this restaurant with my hands as red as that stupid scarf of yours.”

the harbinger huffs. “alright alright! no i don’t think it’s funny to do… all of what you said. but i don’t think that’s fair- this is my mission and it’s been running smoothly since before you even got here. at least i thought it was until they decided to send more manpower with zero forewarning, do you know how insulting that is?”

“how is it insulting to have backup in case something goes wrong? that’s all i’m here for- to help, and ideally help with the investigation. but i can’t do that if i don’t know where the hell jueyun karst is, much less where else to go to look for clues.”

childe only sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “you’re right… i shouldn’t alienate you from what’s your assignment too. but let me keep up with my plan for now and if something goes awry, i’ll call you. i’ll fill you in on it tomorrow morning.”

you nod firmly- easier than you thought it’d be.

“now will you please teach me how to use these damned sticks?”

taglist ; @kentply

[dailyniallnews]

Interview with Niall Horan, ex frontman of One Direction

If the global success with One Direction is now far behind, the fortune that Niall Horan is enjoying as a solo artists is very current. His third album was just released. Emblematic title: The Show, and the show could not get better than this. Article by Leonardo Clausi

Precisely because this is the new age of anxiety (from the title of the poem by W. H. Auden The Age of Anxiety, 1947, and from Symphony n. 2 by Leonard Bernstein inspired by it, 1949), Public Health around the world should prescribe listening to Niall Horan. As anti-anxiety medicine, tonic for the psyche, emotionally restorative medicine. Really, who else in the modern soft rock world is as capable of tuning in for ten tracks on an equally balmy wavelength, without ever straying into drama or comedy, as Horan does on The Show, third album since he went solo after the dissolution of One Direction, the (boy)band who competed with the Beatles in music sales? Not even the much more wanted colleague Harry Styles, with his unapologetic Bowie-ism that annoyed Tony Visconti so much.

30-year-old Horan doesn't have the same ambitions. We could easily ask him to go and pick out our daughter from school because he is so.. fragrant? Since 2016 - without stopping except from when forced by the pandemic - he's been writing music and bringing it on tour. A constant motion of three albums, the feverish craftsmanship of a diligent entertainer devoted to the career that he was raised in thanks to the shortcut, sometimes a brutal one, with which talent shows have short-circuited the discography and industry of A&R (Artists and Repertoire). We intercept him as he drives, always busy as a bee. "I just came back from America yesterday. Today I am in Liverpool. It's constant travelling, I spend most of my time jetlagged". He is understandably satisfied with his latest discographic effort, which will become the center of the homonymous The Show Live on Tour, with the Italian stop on 21st March 2024 at the Mediolanum Forum in Milan: "I spent a lot of time writing and producing it during the pandemic and the year after. I’m happy, the response has been very, very interesting around the world". Not surprising, considering the melodic quality of the tracks, touched by the Californian light of the Laurel Canyon, with vocal harmonies reminiscent of the Beach Boys, and references to the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac. "I trusted that I could write a song. I knew I had the ability to do it. I just needed to trust that I could get a guitar, or sit at a piano, and something good would come out of it. It's out, but you never know. I need to keep my head down, work hard and see".

The 70s were his first introduction to music through records (or vinyls, as hipsters say), which were floating around the house; the real love however started "when I realised how lucky I was to have grown up with music that stayed with me to this day. My parents had a large album collection. I still listen to a lot of them now. When I’m in the studio I often use analogue mixing desks, it’s an important part of the sound I’m looking for". Speaking of the search for the 'organic' sound that digital audio is not able to embody all the way, what does he think of artificial intelligence, now that creators in the entertainment industry are taking the streets as well to protest against forcibly becoming obsolete? "Artificial intelligence can really do a lot, but it can’t give you that feeling that I call the human touch. It couldn’t write 'Hey Jude' or any other masterpiece. Humans will always have the upper hand".

Horan's Irishness is a prominent element of his personality, that proud affability that made his country a cultural superpower despite its size. And that was worth the warm reception of none other than the POTUS, who is also a descendent of the Celtic diaspora. "For how small the nation is, the relevance we have worldwide is amazing. Only five million inhabitants, and yet our culture of drinking, night life, musical or literary traditions are known everywhere. It's something I always keep in mind and want to show off as much as possible. And yes, I was invited at Washington to meet Joe Biden". Understandably, the fact excites him: "It was crazy that someone from a small town like mine (Mullingar, northwest of Ireland, ed.) ended up playing for the President of the United States at the White House. I still can't believe it". Not to mention the fact that, from a particularly bigot and conservative society that it once was, Ireland is now one of the most advanced and liberal ones of the West. "I'm not sure how it happened, but I am very proud of it. It was great to see it become one of the first countries to have gay marriage, for example. And I’m proud that it’s acting as a catalyst for change in other countries".

And does he know U2, this compatriot up and coming group? Would he collaborate with them? "Some of my all time favourite songs are by U2, their shows are some of the best I’ve ever been to. It would be great to do something with them if they ever ask". Coming from one of the best selling bands meant that there was a challenging precedent to compete with. But Niall Horan is doing great. It's impossible to refrain from asking about a 1D reunion. "It’s a busy time for everyone, so no, not that I know of. We keep in touch but everyone’s doing their own thing. Louis is touring in America, Liam is working on his music, Harry’s busy on the biggest world tour... In fact, if you hear about a reunion, please let me know".

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

when schell were designing the fabricator's workshop, they had to constantly make an effort to mirror "the various nuances of [her] character".

her shelf is full of stacks upon stacks of either books on poisons, or experiments surrounding her poisons. she has blueprints and memorabilia of all of her favorite inventions dotted around her workspace. despite her put together facade, her safe space is a completely disorganized mess intentionally designed to parallel her "chaotically creative" nature. she gets so attached to her projects that- regardless of their complexity- she will become enraged upon their destruction.

the fabricator is very quick to anger. she gets a grudge and holds it for a very long time. she will go through extreme, often unnecessary lengths to feel vindicated for any slight against her. she is also very quick to encourage the people around her to do the same, implying that it's less than an instinctual practice and more of a lens in which she sees the world/emphasizes with others emotions.

solaris is a character who has canonically become a "zealot" for laser technology, despite the fact that lasers were only invented in the late 1950s, and patented in 1960- the decade in which the entire series takes place. in that short span of time she has gone on to create a laser so technologically advanced that it has surpassed decades and generations of current scientific progress. when you destroy it she screams like you just murdered her firstborn child.

solaris also has difficulties with communication. she is frequently sharp with people she doesn't like (ie. zor), and has no clue when she should or shouldn't hold her tongue- to the point where it most assuredly jeopardizes her own health and safety. when communicating with the agent before their cover is blown- despite generally being friendly and sympathetic towards their situation- her tone will still be rather blunt and monotone, and can easily be misconstrued as cold, curt, or frustrated.

dr prism is a highly intelligent scientist who developed the technology to combat gravity itself and still was not personally satisfied due to the immense amount of pressure she was constantly applying to herself. she devoted herself to creating robotic agents to supplant humans, succeeded, and then grew to care for those robots with such intense fervor that she considered those lives as sudo-human and of more worth than her own.

she also is highly rejection sensitive, lashing out at both herself and people around her, while simultaneously desperately craving for meaningful approval from her peers. at the end of cold shoulder- as painfully as she loathed the phoenix in that moment- she couldn't even bring herself to kill or even harm them because of her subconscious sensitivity towards others' lives.

she has a perfectly acceptable house that she- seemingly- does not live in, because she spends so much time working on her robots that she chooses to live in the factory zor lent her. she can differentiate between the hundreds of her robots and cares for them like family. she stims when she gets excited- even in the middle of a life or death scenario inside of an active volcano.

this is an incredibly unnecessarily long winded way of saying that these three women are autistic as fuck i think. why aren't we making these women more autistic?? hello???

[triviallytrue]

Regarding Stop Cop City, I agree it’s a pretty small-fry project that seems somewhat illogical to be devoting so much energy and militancy to. But on the other hand, there have been city protest movements devoted to saving a single tree before and I don’t think they were necessarily worthless. Even if it’s a small patch of forest, we need to save every tree we can.

And the point of making a big ruckus about one relatively small project is it raises the costs and makes authorities think twice about all their other similar small projects.

And finally I also think there’s just the fact that in the absence of a large left-wing party or organizational infrastructure, there’s not really any central decisionmaker deciding on which things to campaign against. Which things explode into a bigger issue is fairly random and arbitrary.

Similarly, as people have pointed out: the incidents of police brutality that provoke huge protests are not always the most egregious incidents. There have been a few even more horrific acts than what happened to George Floyd or Eric Garner (which to be clear were already extremely horrific), some even caught on video, that did not get as much attention and did not incite as much unrest. There’s no “line” that gets crossed that people just can’t take anymore. It’s random and unpredictable.

So I think Stop Cop City is not completely misguided though I do think it’s not strategically the most productive effort or the most urgent problem.

(But I could be wrong. And anyone attacking you over your opinion on this is a stupid fuck).

Even if it’s a small patch of forest, we need to save every tree we can. And the point of making a big ruckus about one relatively small project is it raises the costs and makes authorities think twice about all their other similar small projects.

I think I tend to disagree on both these points - I am against deforestation writ large but I think there are plenty of times when I am okay with developing small forests for human use, though a training site for cops and firefighters is pretty meh as use cases go. I also am not sure if it really provides much benefit to force authorities to reconsider this kind of project.

I would not necessarily say I am against the cop city protestors in any meaningful way. Cops suck, fuck em, whatever. What I am strongly against is the lionization of picking your battles poorly on the left.

To my eyes the comparison to the George Floyd protests feels a little off - that struck me as a much more mass movement, whereas this feels more like a small group of highly dedicated protestors. I also think the central issue there was much more important, though to wrap back around, what happened to Tortuguita (the protestor that got killed by the cops, likely while sitting down with their hands up) seems far more egregious than the construction project.

I am kind of a crank about this kind of thing, but it raises my hackles when people treat protest or "resistance" or militancy as ends unto themselves. I think the causes we fight for and the ends we achieve matter immensely, and I don't think stopping cop city matters that much, so it bugs me to hear people talk about it in the same breath as the 2020 protests or the current ones for Gaza.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hiii ! How are you ?

What kind of person do you think Benzai from Kproject is ?

If you still take asks, what would he look for in a partner ?

Have a good day !

Well hello there, my lovely anon! I definitely did still take asks at the time this was sent in, though my ask box is currently temporarily closed while I write the existing requests (or at least enough of them to feel okay about opening up my ask box again)! Thanks so much for sending in a request, especially for such an underloved character, and I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons!

I think the thing to tackle first out of this request is really just who Benzai is, as a person. We don’t get to see a lot of him in canon, and what we do see of him is someone who is quite capable but also very quiet.

And I do think that both of those things are definitely key parts of who he is. Benzai was a quiet child, who grew into a quiet teenager and then a quiet adult. He’s not shy, contrary to what others might assume. He’s got very little against socializing, as a rule, and he’s not retiring and unsure about speaking to others. He’s just naturally a very quiet person.

Benzai isn’t someone who is afraid of peace and quiet. He rather enjoys it, in fact. To him, a lot of the silence that others consider as being awkward isn’t at all. He doesn’t get the point of chattering just to fill the air with noise, even when the conversations have no point. When he does tend to talk, it’s normally because he does have something to say, something he wants to discuss, or because he’s among friends or people he wants to get to know better.

I do also think that Benzai does tend to be a little reserved, leading even more to the assumption that he’s shy or even that he’s quite cold. Neither of those things are true in any way. It’s just that he doesn’t believe that most people need to know the private details of his life, especially before he gets to know them well. On top of that, because Benzai is someone who does value politeness, he’s always thinking very carefully about what is proper to talk about and the things he would rather keep to himself instead of talking about them and possibly coming across as rude or offensive.

When he is with friends and people he trusts well, Benzai can have periods where he is more talkative than normal and he’s definitely more open, though he’s never what you would call a chatterbox by any means.

Another part of Benzai I’d like to focus on is that the man is both very responsible and very reliable. He feels like he has a duty – it’s why he went into the military and I do believe his upbringing was a bit of a strict one, where responsibility for things and other people was drilled into him. We know he has a niece, so he does have siblings, and I see him as the oldest of his siblings, where taking care of the younger ones and providing a good example was carefully trained in him.

Because he is someone who is so dutiful and responsible, I don’t think dating and romance is a priority for him, not at that point. Is it something he would like? Yes, but not necessarily a priority, especially as he doesn’t feel like he has the time for it. When he has the time and extra energy to devote to properly dating, he is someone that I feel would be rather selective about the people he chooses to date. He doesn’t have super-high standards and he isn’t a high maintenance partner, but there are definitely things he will not compromise on.

He does want a partner who is more on the calm side. Because of who he is, someone who is super high-energy, who yaps his ear off all the time, who is talkative and chattery would wear him out. He wants someone to match his energy and expand on it a bit. He has a lot of respect for people who don’t rush into relationships, who spend their time getting to know him for who he is before wanting to move things forward, because to him, it’s a sign that they, like himself, are really putting in the effort to figure out if there’s even anything there besides initial attraction and chemistry.

He insists on shared morals and values, and at least one shared interest.

He’s dating for the long-term, after all. He’s not a short fling kind of guy.

Benzai is a very respectful man. He’s going to give his partner their space, he wouldn’t dream of flirting with others while with them, he encourages their interests, supports them, and makes time for them while understanding they have a life, friends, family, and things outside of him. He puts effort into romancing them and into being a good partner and he insists on his partner matching his energy in that way too. He doesn’t want a taker, who never gives him attention and love and effort or does it super rarely, but he also doesn’t want a co-dependent partner who makes him their entire life.

I will say that the one thing I think Benzai hates the most is unnecessary drama and gossip. The first signs of this in a partner would make him cut the relationship short, knowing that it’s very much an incompatibility that he would not be able to compromise over.

[gear-project]

DEAR SANTA

Yep it’s that time of year again, though this time I’m writing from my iPad tablet instead of my usual keyboard.

Not sure what I’m gonna do moving forwards, Santa, lotta hardships got thrown my way lately, but as the song says, “Gotta get to the Edge of Soul to Carry on”, so that’s what I’m doin’.

I’ve been spending a lot of time staring at my old game library, and facing the daunting task of clearing said games. Gaming may seem like fun to an outsider, but it’s kinda like reading a long book or series of books. It takes energy to finish what you start.

And I haven’t even considered a PlayStation 5, Nintendo Switch, or even a Steam Deck yet. A lot of modern games feel disappointing simply because they don’t do stuff older games could do. I wish I could properly express this issue to modern game developers.

But what I want the most right now is an opportunity to get my PC fixed and upgraded. I want to get back in to the fighting game modding scene I’ve seen so many of my friends enjoying.

Of course I also want to see Guilty Gear Strive become something more than just a way to play online, but I think Japanese developers are fixated on netplay to even notice the struggle of casual players. Casual players who can barely keep up with the endless skill ceiling that players obsessed with winning form, just to bolster their egos.

I saw it back in the Street Fighter IV days, and I see it even now.

It feels like such a long time ago now that I even had fun playing Xrd and Accent Core with my friends. It wasn’t about winning, it was about socializing and learning and having fun. But I see so much bloody aggression in players now that there’s no feeling of peace.

Maybe to some winning is all that matters, but will you still believe that years from now, when so many people get discouraged from playing a game you devoted yourself to?

When are people going to take a moment from all the aggression and posturing and simply teach others what they’ve learned? Not by force, not by guesswork, but actually patiently teaching?

I still want to believe that Strive is a great fighting game, but the people who play it are different from the people who played the other fighting games I enjoyed, on a fundamental level in mindset.

The community I was raised in was much kinder, much more friendly, much more eager to help people reach a higher level of skill.

Maybe it’s just the way netplay is currently structured, and maybe it’s flawed in some way, or maybe I’m expecting too much, I’m not entirely sure.

I can’t even predict how the story of Dual Rulers will play out next year.

Santa, it’s a big deal to me, honestly… I just want a fighting game that lets me do what I want, the freedom of older games had it, but not many modern games even understand the concept.

It’s Extra Menu, it’s System Direction, it’s the Groove Editor, it’s the Spirit Editor, it’s EX Mode, it’s Robo Ky Factory, it’s World Tour and Edge Master modes. Even Granblue Rising had the right idea with Quest Mode.

Maybe it’s the obsession with Netplay that’s part of the problem, or maybe more fighting games need co-op content, so players can feel like their efforts aren’t in vain.

I digress, Santa, but I just want to feel like gaming is fun again, and not a one-sided nightmare slog just to achieve anything.

Santa what I want the most for Christmas is the spirit of friendship in gaming. Not competition, not grudges, not mockery or immaturity. I’d trade all the PlayStation consoles in the world for that right about now.

[corduroyserpent]

When Zhuzhi-lang was fifteen, he was given the world. 

Or at least, that was what it felt like. With a mere touch, he had a full human body. Arms and legs and fingers, eyes that could produce tears, a mouth that could shape the language he had long understood but had never been able to speak. It was everything; he had been given everything.

He knew it didn't mean much to Tianlang-jun. His savior was willful. Tianlang-jun did what he wanted, when he wanted to, and often with no regard to the potential consequences. But it did not matter whether effort or insouciance hid behind Tianlang-jun’s kindness. Zhuzhi-lang would repay it all tenfold. His eternal devotion was only a small fraction of what the man who had given him such a priceless gift deserved, but it was a start. 

There was nothing Zhuzhi-lang would not do for Tianlang-jun. No path he would not walk, no journey he would not undertake, no depth he would not fall to.

Which was why he currently stood, red-faced and stiff as a board, in the back of a brothel. The air was thick with incense, partially obscuring his keen sense of smell. He wrinkled his nose as ladies giggled in bell-like peals above the gentle sound of the guqin. One or two had attempted to pull Zhuzhi-lang into the fray but he had respectfully declined. He was strictly there for business, not pleasure.

Su Xiyan had recently taken Tianlang-jun, and by extension Zhuzhi-lang, to witness the incredible skill of a little-known pipa player in an establishment not unlike his current surroundings. It was one of many breathtaking experiences that Zhuzhi-lang had grown resentful of. 

Uh, no. Not resentful. Suspicious.  

His serpent senses told him in no uncertain terms that Su Xiyan was not to be trusted. But Tianlang-jun was infatuated, as he often was, with anything new and shiny and related to humans. Zhuzhi-lang would try once more to get his lord to see reason. 

The first part of his plan was to steal that marvelous qin player away from her lecherous admirers in order to bring her, and her instrument, back to the Demon Realm. Su Xiyan was not the only person who could find talent or show Tianlang-jun awe-inspiring human sights. Zhuzhi-lang had been by his lord’s side for far longer than some mere human. He could do all of that and more! And he was about to prove it. 

The aromatic haze cleared just enough for Zhuzhi-lang to get a solid view of his goal. There were less people surrounding her than earlier. And two of them looked…familiar. Before Zhuzhi-lang could think to retreat further into the shadows, one of the men turned his head and met Zhuzhi-lang’s wide-eyed gaze. 

“Ah, so you did follow us,” Tianlang-jun said. At his side was none other than Su Xiyan, stoic and straight-backed. “Xiyan was right.”

Su Xiyan smiled, a mild upward tilt of her lips. “What other reason would there have been for the sheer amount of snakes in here?” 

Zhuzhi-lang’s blush grew worse. He thought it would be too dark for the patrons to notice. But Su Xiyan was no ordinary patron. With a click of his tongue, Zhuzhi-lang recalled the normal amount of snakes back to the safety of his robes. 

“If Junshang prefers to be alone with Maiden Su, this subordinate can take his leave.”

“I don’t mind.” Tianlang-jun shrugged, an effortlessly elegant motion. “Though I assume it’s what you would prefer, judging by the color of your cheeks. Pick up a new book for me on the way home, would you? A romance.”

Zhuzhi-lang inclined his head in acknowledgement. He sent one last look towards Su Xiyan, then turned on his heel and left the brothel behind. She had won that time but Zhuzhi-lang was tenacious. There would be plenty of chances for him to get ahead in the future. 

So he set off with a spring in his step to buy the perfect new romance story, blissfully unaware that Su Xiyan had procured a copy of the same novel for Tianlang-jun not a day before. 

[also on ao3!]

[tanatola]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

Oh um! Thank you for the question, I do love that kind of thing, love writing it out... Honestly I think I can track almost a lot of my fav characters to just yaoi but whatever, I'm valid!! Also there might be some spoilers here since it's difficult to write 'why' without them. Sorry for long text, I like rambling about my favs. 1) Currently as is obvious it's Geto Suguru from JJK, I think he just combined a lot of the things I like in a way that really works for him and for the story... The inherent romance in being dead before the main plot even starts, ahh. Also the complexity behind his fall into villainy is sooo well-written, having so many reasons and chains of consequences that lead him to it, a slow and easily preventable descent into tragedy, it's so appealing... I truly believe he could have been saved and dissuaded at any point in his life, even during the events of jjk0, but people who cared about him didn't understand him, while people who did understand him didn't care enough (or actively planned to take advantage).

2) Kaeya from Genshin, similarly because he's a very contradictory character with a lot of inner demons and a tendency towards self-destructive behavior. Also back then the kaeluc of it all forced me deep into researching chinese terminology and similar examples in fiction which made playing Genshin a much more educational experience than one would expect lmao... Honestly I didn't love what the game did with him in the last few years, mostly ignoring the more serious and cunning aspects of his personality and story and focusing on the cute and insecure little trickster persona, it's very ehh to me. But in my heart I still love the version of him that made me obsess for over a year.

3) Jimmy McGill from Better Call Saul. Again, something about preventable tragedy and how difficult it is to tell where his actions can be traced back to his childhood and family relations, where he was forced and where he chose to make bad decisions himself, he is my poor meow meow 100%. Also has the benefit of being in a well-written show.

4) Princess Carolyn from Bojack, honestly it should have been Diane but Diane struck too close to home for me, while PC is a 'safer' to love option. Highly competent in professional areas, utterly delulu in others, one of the most caring characters in the cast... <З I also just liked her VA a lot, plus she's like a power fantasy in a lot of ways... Super great at her career, loving partner, realising her dream of having a baby, I mean yeah. Not that I want a baby, just that she got everything she wanted by the end, nice.

5) Wei Wuxian from MDZS, same with being dead before the story starts djkgdkjg, also a necromancer and a disaster, need I say more. I think for me a big factor of why I like him is that despite being a talented genius with a steady moral compass he absolutely failed at... everything? Lost everything he held dear or wanted to protect, when revived he doesn't even have any specific goals in the new life he was given. But his endless positivity means that he didn't mind taking that second chance anyway, and as a reward at least learned in detail why his first life fell apart, and also gained a devoted husband in the process, good for him. A rare happy end among things I like actually,, I mean I actually have words to say about the 'happy' part of it but well, as happy as it could have been for him.

6) Grantaire from Les Mis, this one is just very personal I think, a cynical drunk who never accomplished anything in his life, am I right dfjgnkdfg...,, Him being a typical asshole but well-educated and sentimental, loving Enjolras and all of his friends but giving 0 effort to actually supporting their cause, still managing to do the right thing in the end, it's ahh т_т Also I'm still obsessed with him mentioning studying under Antoine-Jean Gros in one sentence which led me down the rabbit hole of researching what real life Gros was like, spoilers he drowned himself in Seine after his artistic career went into decline. You can really see why looking at his works but that makes it all the more upsetting... Like not because of some 1 specific failure but just a lack of artistic progress overall, which his mentor, peers and students couldn't help but comment on... Anyway this isn't about Grantaire anymore but also kind of still is! 7) Vriska, I named my second cat after her!! Honestly one of the better written characters in Homestuck I think (im thinking the first five acts), just everything about her is perfect to me. A huge bitch of course, but at her core just a teenager with pure ambition and insecurities born from consequences of her actions, always trying to prove herself no matter how much she hurts people around her. And yeah like always with characters I like, so many opportunities for her to go off the doomed course, but either herself or manipulative adults always redirected her back, and that was always supposed to be the 'main' timeline, doomed by the narrative etc. The tragic nature of her friends-to-rivals-to-enemies with Terezi was also just sooo... And that Terezi didn't even care about that rivalry as much as Vriska did, or at least pretended that she didn't... Sighh....

8) Granny Weatherwax from Discworld, my favorite old woman. What's so great about her to me is that she's like all those other characters I like, an asshole who wants to solve everyone's problems, always tempted to react emotionally, do the wrong thing,... But she just doesn't, and she's been choosing to be good ever since she was young. The appeal of a powerful witch holding herself in check, mmm, she's just so much more introspective, complex and relatable than say Gandalf in LOTR who had the same issues. Iconic role model honestly.

9) Harry Du Bois from Disco Elysium, or at least specifically the communist well-natured version of him you can play as djkfgdfkfg, not that it erases his complexities and masculine asshole ways but... I mean yeah, he's a cop and an asshole no matter what, but the sheer potential he holds... No matter how low he's fallen, his sentimentality and his empathy, being so in-tune with people and the city, it all leads to a blooming hope for humanity I suppose. That you can get better, always, and not only a-la Grantaire by dying. Of course, you can also always get worse, too, but that's the other inevitable side of the coin (I still haven't played the fascist route since it makes me too sad).

10) Leo from Pandora Hearts! Again I didn't really love how he ended up, but ahhh :^) His unlikely friendship with Elliot, agreeing to becoming his servant to stay by his side more, not realising that he's dooming his friend by doing so, yandere-ish personality plus secret pretty eyes, I mean. Classic flavor.

[msommers]

10, 15, 30, 37 for riya, ghilly and jorina!

I FINALLY ANSWERED THEM. I DIDN'T HAVE A CRISIS OVER SOME OF THESE QUESTIONS AT ALL. THANK YOU. // random dnd questions

10) How does your PC fidget?

RIYA — hands gotta be in motion (clasping and unclasping in different positions, tapping against her thigh or a surface, half-effort somatic practice for spells, etc), twisting the Valdivia rings around her fingers, playing with her hair, adjusting her outfit, messing about with the locket or handkerchief her father sent her.

GHILLY — traces the vallaslin on her fingers, gently swings the lantern at the top of her staff while gazing at whatever magic is currently idling in it, tugs and twists loose threads from the various patches on her skirt/dress, draws various runes/sigils/letters she’s seen in ruins on the nearest surface with her fingers.

JORINA — a lot of readjusting her posture/stance, picking at the edge of a pocket, taking out a pencil and fiddling with it, tugging at the end of her braid or fully rebranding the hair if anxious long enough. 

15) How does your PC feel about marriage? Weddings?

RIYA — i have overthought this question to the point of insanity somebody save me. i think this is a case of Riya having not really thought about marriage for herself (not out of disliking it, just avoidance because one too many subtle mentions of political arrangements), but in General she has a positive view on it because she grew up with a healthy example in her parents. they have a beautiful love and partnership, and her favorite part of it is how they’ve clearly communicated what they need/want from each other so there’s never any confusion in expectations. it’s rubbed off on Riya and that’s why she’s so chill about discussions in her relationships, having no troubles communicating expectations, boundaries and needs. i mean if it came down to it, if Riya’s serious enough with somebody for marriage to come up then they’ve probably thoroughly established every aspect of the relationship and she’d be down for it so long as the other party isn’t demanding changes outside of her comfort zone. it’s already a partnership, this just adds a few fun new titles/petnames to use and probably a pretty ring 🥰 there better be a pretty ring 🥰🥰 oh also the other part of the question: weddings are fucking bangers, she wants to attend them all.

GHILLY — she thinks it's cute :’) it's so funny knowing the big chunks of text that flank her answer, but Ghilly doesn't have any strong opinions here. she's a romantic at heart and enjoys the idea of feeling so connected to another that you want to add another level of devotion to it. i bet some dalish bonding celebrations are fun as fuck, she'd vibe with them. 

JORINA — i think marriage is a side quest in Jorina's overarching hero's journey to understand, process, and work through the complicated mess that is her feelings on romance after what happened to her parents. for a long time it was a terrifying concept because her father basically fucking disappeared into his grief after her mother died, and one of the things that got stuck in her head from that was “marriage = committing to love somebody so much that you're entirely shattered if they leave and that's it, you're broken forever ”. it's such an extreme take but it was formed at like age 15 or smth and it was easier to fully lock into it than deconstruct it,,,,but she ends up doing that down the line anyway. because after a few years with Aleksi she has to admit to herself that even without marriage between them, she fully understands that you can feel that kind of love without exchanging vows and rings. there's obvs a lot more to work through there but that's the start of it, and she'd probably eventually land in the camp of respecting that others see it as a relationship goal but it's nothing she herself requires. the commitment is already made, y’know. weddings are like all other social events: she's fine being there for an hour or two to show that she cares and can hold a few nice conversations with the people hosting, then she's fucking out of there. social battery dry. 

30) How does your PC flirt?

RIYA — (i blackout half the time she talks in-game so like. grain of salt here lmao) so much of it is based in being absolutely shameless in her interest/desire. loves to open with direct compliments delivered in an overtly-flirty voice to immediately get her intent across, also a big fan of blatant innuendo (moaning room you will always be famous). the level of subtlety when detailing her intentions depends on the target of her attention and her current patience level. puts an equal amount of effort into the physical approach as well with eye contact, deliberate movement/expressions, brazen touches with her hands. it all comes down to the simple fact that whatever Riya wants with you—anywhere on the scale from flirting just for fun / wanting to tear your clothes off then and there—you’re going to know it within about 30 seconds, even if you aren’t the most insightful.

GHILLY — this one is fucking with me because i can't see her doing any form of typical flirting, but i could see her doing romantic displays like reading poetry or gifting flowers. she wouldn't do innuendo or cheeky compliments, it'd be straight to the point comments on admiration/appreciation and then a proposition if there’s clear interest on both sides.

JORINA — bro so awkwardly i don't even wanna think about it, i'll suffer secondhand embarrassment from my own character 😭😭 she's not flirting! she's gazing and pining!! she's stuttering and leaving the scene the minute somebody flirts with her, she can't return it!!! i strongly believe the only time Jorina's tried to flirt it came out as an awkward but not notably out of place compliment on work performance, then she immediately walked away and it was chalked up to “wow she's real bad at positive reinforcement”. 

37) What flower represents your PC?

flower symbolism aka the bane of my existence because each flower has 17 different meanings depending on which site you visit lmao. i’m just gonna collect multiple for each so i never have to look again for them and can just come back here for future use

RIYA —

laurestine: "i die if neglected"

tiger lily: wealth, pride

marigold: grief, despair, sacred affection

red orchid: fire, romance, desire, passion

orange orchid: pride, enthusiasm, boldness

rainflower: rebirth, new beginnings, great expectations

willow: (french) bravery, humanity; (weeping) mourning

GHILLY — 

purple heather: solitude, admiration

magnolia: nature lover, nobility, dignity

blue orchid: rarity, uniqueness, beauty, spirituality

dahlia: elegance, dignity, abundance, instability

JORINA — 

purple lilac: first emotions of love

bluebell: loyalty, constancy, humility, gratitude

protea: courage, daring, resourcefulness, transformation

white tulip: forgiveness, remembrance, sincerity, "i am worthy of you"

[noisytenant]

You can stop capitalism and the attention economy from sucking the joy out of art for you right now*

*at the small price of, perhaps, your hopes and dreams.

Commodification and competition only suck the joy out of art when you buy into them. If you want to make art for fun and not worry about attention economies and algorithms then literally just stop worrying about them, and accept the consequences of that.

What are the consequences? There are artists who have successfully risen to a living wage off posting their art online, and in the shadow of these prominent but rare figures it is difficult not to dream of having even a sliver of their luck. And this is to say nothing about the social and emotional fulfillment of sharing art with others, but I'll be focusing on the economics here.

It's luck. Commercially successful artists who seem to have "gamed the algorithm" are prone to survivorship bias--it's impossible to know how many artists have tried the same tactics only to get nowhere. And most will attest that every step of these attention-economy-appeasing rituals is demoralizing and exhausting. Many--even those who succeed--give up or take a step back.

But if these rituals are so awful, why perform them? To potentially increase the meager chances of economic success as an internet artist? To see your engagement numbers go up?

I don't want to tell people to give up on this dream because I believe it is impossible. Instead, it is possible, which is the trap. And when the entire economy and job market are so dire, it's difficult not to dream of that lottery ticket.

I do believe we can live in a world where we can survive and make the art that brings us joy--Through significant effort and numerous systemic changes at every level of culture and society. And in the meantime, there is a huge grey area of economic sustainability--if you make even a little money off your art, that's more in your pocket.

But hobbyist artists have been making and continue to make art out of joy and curiosity regardless of how popular or commercially viable it is, it's just harder to find them on common online platforms. They're in your neighborhood, at work, in your family and probably among your friends, sitting at the library leafing through a "How to Draw" book or signing up for an adult beginner's class, if they have the money. And when we promote the idea that art is fun for everyone, we make more space for people to enjoy it.

We have a finite amount of time and energy every day. Our capitalist economy saps us of both such that we have very little left to devote to our passions. But we fail to realize how much more we lose investing in an arbitrary and fickle economy that is, in fact, entirely optional. If you work a day job with clearly defined hours, you may spend several hours miserably--and that is a problem that needs addressing--but your day ends. Meanwhile, the work of a professional internet artist is never done--You are always on the clock.

I feel heartbroken when I see artists lamenting how joyless, soul-sucking, and uninspiring art has become for them in the midst of our current circumstances. I think they are correct in identifying that the attention economy saps them of this joy--But they are not seeing the forest for the trees.

It is the difference between the expectation of success and the reality of disappointment, rather than the disappointment itself, that leads to such a depressing state of affairs. Let go of the idea that sufficient effort scales with reward in a system as arbitrary as ours. Save your energy. The best way to win is not to play.

Art is as beautiful and life-affirming as it ever was. Realize what it has to offer you, and realize what you need from elsewhere. We still need food and a roof over our heads. We still need friends and community. If we want art to occupy a joyful space in our lives, we need to rely on other parts of ourselves to get through the sometimes boring, tedious, and depressing work of living our daily lives.

Our capitalist system and its associated attention economy deserve every criticism they can get, but if we fail to question their fundamental assumptions, we will never truly move past them. We have the autonomy to untangle capital from our artistic lives, if not completely, at least to a more manageable state.

So, believe that art can be fun again. The things you want to see in the world are waiting for you to make them.

[tobiaswexley]

DR. TOBIAS WEXLEY JR. || 35 || SURGEON || DEVOTED BROTHER

sources: biography || pinterest

HEADCANONS

Performed his first surgery on one of his sister's pets who got injured at the Wexley. He was 11.

Has a detailed medical log of Margaret like any doctor would have on his patient. 

Is currently studying the disease that’s causing individuals to turn. Although cut off from a lab, his resources will include the large Wexley medical library, a collection of surgical instruments, and a limited assortment of small scale research equipment. The rest will have to be improvised.

Not fond of pop-culture, most references to media will be lost on him.

SUPPLIES

Medical equipment

Medical books

Stored variety of medicine reserved for Margaret until further notice

A zombie patient hidden in the basement

AESTHETIC

A silhouette in the doorway, lingering and watching, you don't see the eyes, but the eyes see you. * An open book where the pages articulate the art of suturing, the margins are full of notes and detailed drawings of the femoral artery. * A leather messenger bag, understated but custom-made, a practical item with a price tag that could belong to a car.

WANTED

Relative of a patient he performed on years ago. Everything was fine after their surgery, but they died anyway from an unrelated accident (car accident, drug overdose, something I think would be more interesting if it was the patient's direct fault). All that hard-work gone in an instant. Perhaps (if possible) this connection can go to the former patient themselves, only to find themselves in a tough spot of something self-harming. Tobias would take this as a personal assault/insult.

Former love interest. Maybe they seriously dated. Maybe his family just wanted him to settle down with them more than he did. Tobias broke it off because of his obsession with his job and familial obligations.

Guinea pig. He loves his sister more than anything in the world, and there's value in his work with the zombie in the basement. Willing or unwilling or simply unknowingly becoming a test subject in search for a cure for this apocalyptic disease would be fun! For science!

The assistant. Someone he can teach a little in the medical field. He's not particularly patient, so you better be worth the effort!