#listen i understand this is a disney take i do

[just-a-ghost00]

A portrait of your ideal partner

Who's your ideal partner according to spirit? Do you think your vision of an ideal partner matches what the spirit realm reveals? Curious to find out ? Select one of the following characters. For each group, I divided the deck into 3 parts : major arcanas, court cards, other minor cards. The major arcanas will represent the archetypal qualities of the person, the court cards will represent their physical aspect and the other minor arcanas will represent aspects of their personality that are more hidden. The theme for this reading will be Disney's Lion King.

Group 1

Major arcana | The Chariot

The Chariot is associated with the sign of Cancer, ruled by the Moon and ruler of the 4th house. This archetype is water influenced. Qualities that would be associated with this archetype would be the following : dynamic, caring, understanding, compassionate, empathetic, proactive, loyal, observant, home body, family person, sensitive, dreamy, creative, moody, overly cautious, has pessimistic tendencies, can be clingy and manipulative, tends to overthink. Your ideal person according to spirit would be someone that is viewed by society as a good parental figure, someone that is a good listener and blends well within society. A person that doesn't cause trouble and understands the need of acting and thinking as one. If we take a very rigid approach to things, someone that as a man would be viewed as shy, reserved, loving and sensitive. A bit of a lover boy energy, maybe someone that wouldn't be considered as "manly" by society because of their pronounced sensitivity. A pure gentleman. If we consider "women" from society's point of view, a person that would be described as "feminine" : the typical loving mother archetype that people expect to stay at home watching over the kids and taking care of the house while being absolutely lovely and always pampered. Of course this is very cliché, but again, we're talking about archetypes. These tend to be stereotypes. Your ideal person could be someone that has a lot of artistic hobbies, someone that isn't afraid to express their emotions and be vulnerable in your presence. In terms of physical traits, a person that has a lot of softness to them. Someone young looking, with round features and curves, a fond smile and sparkling eyes. Maybe someone with curly hair or kind of a fairy look.

Court card | Queen of wands

In terms of physical traits, spirit sends us the image of someone rather feminine looking, with luscious hair and a lot of warmth to their presence. They could be someone of a different ethnicity than yours. Overall, a very solar type of person. Someone that, on the oustide, looks very approachable, sociable, outgoing. Even if they're not. So someone that smiles a lot, that looks very open in their posture. A person that wears very colorful and bold clothing. Someone that takes very good care of their body, that has a lot of sensuality. So probably a person that works out or does at least one physical activity as a hobby. Someone that appears as warm, comforting, confident. So, someone with a trusty back and big arms that would give you the best cuddles. There's also a fondness to their eyes. When you look at them, you instantly feel like you're melting. Everything about this person's aura or appearance is inviting and tempting, makes you feel incredibly warm and protected. Someone quite tall, with a solid and athletic build.

Minor arcana | 7 of pentacles

When it comes to their personality, spirit wishes for you someone incredibly patient and reserved. Someone mature, that will not be afraid to wait for you and support you. A person that takes things slow and carefully, methodically. That does not rush to conclusions, that does not lose their temper when faced with an issue. A person that takes rational decisions based on solid facts. Someone that is careful with their money, time, actions. That will provide you with a safe environment in which you can bloom at your own pace. A person that is loving and generous, reliable, understanding of your limits. Someone that will walk along side you instead of ahead of you. A person that isn't afraid to work hard to ensure a healthy connection. Someone calm, grounded, that will take your opinion into consideration and value you as a person. Someone you could safely envision a future with, having your own family, if that was something you wished. Because this person would have all the required qualities and strength to make a reliable and amazing parent.

Group 2

Major Arcana | Justice

Justice is commonly associated with the sign of Libra, ruled by Venus and ruler of the 7th house of partnership. This archetype is air influenced. Qualities that could be associated with this archetype are the following : analytical, fair, witty, diplomatic, sociable, charming, cooperative, rational, indecisive, has a tendency of overthinking, sensual, can be irrascible and sometimes carefree, can be extremely cutting with their words. If we take a societal approach of the Justice archetype, we have someone that would be viewed as irreproachable, perfect. Well established, professionally accomplished, always neatly dressed and prepared in any situation. Someone well educated, efficient in their work, well spoken, that cannot be tricked or easily manipulated. Someone that can sometimes be ruthless and cold, especially in business. A person that lives their life ruled by their head and not their heart. A person that has a tough shell that protects them and is not easily swayed by life's struggles. Someone that is loyal, protective and goes by the rules no matter what. A person that will stand up for what they believe in. Someone that can be admired by others because of their ethic and charisma. A person that never backs down and never gives up. But also someone that has a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders because of that.

Court card | Queen of swords

The queen of swords as physical traits depicts an image of someone that may look emotionally closed off, similarily to the Justice archetype. A person that may appear as cold from an external point of view. This may be someone that wears a lot of suits, clothing that isn't that colorful but rather tight fitting and gives a bit of a strict vibe. This person could wear glasses. Give off a bit of a nerd vibe as well. Someone that is elegant, graceful. Kind of a cold beauty vibe. I kinda pick up on a bit of a scorpionic energy as well. An intense gaze that could be highlighted by long lashes, very graphic eyeliner and so on. A very pale skin. A prominent jaw. A bit of a frown. Someone that doesn't smile a lot. That may have a bit of a "RBF". Someone that doesn't hold eye contact a lot. That may look like they look down on people when they're just lost in their thoughts. A person with long silky hair, rather dark hair. Definitely a beard for men. Someone that looks dignified, maybe a bit haughty. Someone that would look like they come from royalty because of how they walk, how they stand. A person that could be mistaken as a statue or a model. But still with a very feminine quality to them. A cold kind of sensuality that leaves you frozen in awe at how surreal they look.

Minor Arcana | Ace of wands

In terms of personality, this person would be way warmer than what they let on. A person that is extremely driven, ambitious, passionate. A person that is fun to be around and that encourages you in everything you do. A person that can be your best friend. Someone that always sees the bright side of things and brings out the best of you. Someone daring, charming, adventurous. A person that has a bit of a unique way of thinking, a very unique personality. A person that likes competition and challenges. Someone that would bring out your inner child. A person that would make you laugh, remind you of how beautiful you are. Someone horny and kinky AF. A bit of a child sometimes, especially around you. Someone that would be soft only for you. A person that maybe doesn't like PDA but who would gladly accept it if it made you happy. Someone that would give you butterflies with every smile, every stare, every touch. That would never cease to love you. A very exciting person to be with, someone that would help you celebrate yourself and life. A person that is a bit of a trickster and has a cocky attitude that you just cannot resist.

Group 3

Major Arcana | The Sun

The archetype of the Sun is associated with Leo, ruled by the sun and ruler of the 5th house. Qualities and traits associated with this archetype include the following : optimistic, confident, outgoing, ambitious, charming, charismatic, competitive, admired by many, succesful, has egotistical and narcisstic tendencies, can be jealous and possesive, creative, loyal, warm hearted, can be stubborn and arrogant, sometimes controlling, generous, sensual, protective, has great leadership qualities. Society could view this person as the epitome of success and perfection. This is someone that could be both admired and envied by people because of their qualities and life style. A lot of people would agree that your ideal partner has a lot of charm and can get anything they want in life partly because of their good looks and social skills. This is a person that could be described as a play boy/ play girl, a smooth talker. People could think that they get the pretty priviledge, among other things. From an outer point of view, I feel many people would misunderstand this person's nature because they would mainly focus on appearances without really trying to get to know them at their core. This could be a person that faces discrimination in all kinds of forms because of that. People would get easily intimidated by this person's looks and energy. The archetype of the Sun makes me think of someone popular, that tries to be friends with everyone, that may tend to people please to be loved and admired. A person that may fear being lonely and runs away from their solitude by surrounding themselves with people or keeping themselves busy. I also think of a person that would be very active in life in general because they have a lot of energy to spend, someone that would appear in public a lot and speak a lot, someone loud, colorful, bold. A person that would be the first to stand on a battle ground should it be needed. A person that causes a lot of chatter and rumours unintentionally.

Court cards | page of pentacles

When it comes to their physical appearance, your ideal partner according to spirit is someone that is rather simple and discreet. This person would dress neatly and take care of their body but they wouldn't put too much effort into it as this isn't their main priority. This would be someone rather young, possibly younger than you. Someone that physically doesn't appear as intimidating as people may portray them to be. Someone that looks rather stable and grounded, trustworthy and kind. A person with a shy smile and avoiding gaze, that may tend to bite their nails or play with the hem of their shirt in times of nervousness. If this person is viewed as attractive and beautiful by many, they play it down a whole lot. This would be a person that doesn't play with their appearance or try to emphasize their beauty. They would tend to hide a lot of their body, wear clothes that aren't as fitting and complimenting as to not draw attention. So maybe they'd wear oversized clothes, hoodies and hats to hide their face, actual masks even. Even if they may be wealthy, they wouldn't wear expensive clothes but rather very basic ones. This is someone that looks very humble and respectful. They may tend to look at their feet, hunch their back. They may wear headphones a lot or look avoidant. Regardless of their gender or ethnicity, this person would have a bit of a soft childlike vibe to them. Kind of a lost / head in the clouds student look. Their appearance would feel very natural. So no make up. No tattoos. No aesthetical surgery or excessive jewelry. They would have a very "basic" body shape. Something that doesn't stand out that much. They're not excessively muscular but they don't lack muscle. They're not excessively curvy but their body doesn't lack volume. A very balanced and proportionate body structure, same goes for facial features.

Minor Arcana | 6 of swords

When it comes to their personality traits, this would be someone that thinks a lot and always tries to weighs the pros and cons of a situation. Someone that is very thougthful and understanding of people's differences. This would be a person that is a good communicator and listener. Someone that is patient and soft, that would make sure that you are not left behind or feel "less than". This is a person that would think of you first and make sure you feel included. Someone versatile, empathetic, that can adapt to any situation. Someone capable of adapting your point of view, even if it may not always make sense to them, because they know how vital it can be for a relationship to find a common ground. A person that wouldn't be scared to leave behind everything they own and everything they know if it meant protecting and ensuring a healthy relationship. Someone that isn't afraid to set boundaries and cut ties with what doesn't serve them or the connection. A person that would prioritize quality time and communication. Someone that would be accepting of your differences, that would be reassuring and help you gain clarity in times of doubt. Someone that doesn't fear change and can bring change in the connection should it be needed. A calm and collected person, resilient person. Someone that wouldn't fear your past but wouldn't stay stuck on it either. A person with great analytical skills that could help you see things from a different perspective, broaden your mind and allow you to explore the depths of your ideas and visions. A person that would travel the world with you and wouldn't leave your side, no matter where you are or what you do. That would stick with you through thick and thin.

[deanpinterester]

mcu stans losing their minds on twitter over florence pugh's quote of "i actually like marvel's strict schedule because that means they're not wishy washy and it works for me :)" and they're going SEE MARVEL'S TIGHT SCHEDULE IS NOT A BAD THING and meanwhile the vfx workers are still suffering from supreme crunch Because of the strict schedule but yeah i'm sure the actors' opinions are the only ones that matter 🥴

[whismizxal]

show me off dr3

── in which daniel ricciardo loves showing off his greek girlfriend.

── warning: google translated greek, some spelling and grammar mistakes, relationships, kind of suggestive? anything else I missed please let me know xx

f1 drivers. navigation.

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danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 645,922,192 others

danielricciardo be jealous or should I say να ζηλεύεις γιατί είναι ΤΟ ΚΟΡΙΤΣΙ ΜΟΥ. (be jealous because she’s my girl)

tagged; yourusername

view 11,221 comments

username absolute beauty

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yourusername duolingo lessons payed off

⤷ danielricciardo you were a better teacher

⤷ duolingo I see how it is.

⤷ danielricciardo she gave me private lessons mate, what can I say?

⤷ username DAMN OUTING HER LIKE THAT

⤷ yourusername you’re sleeping on the couch

⤷ danielricciardo wait I am sorry please baby

username he calls her baby 🤭🤭

⤷ username so do many couples in the world, what about it?

username you forgot to add a comma after the say.

⤷ username aren’t you just a ray of sunshine

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DANIEL AND Y/N WERE IN LOVE.

there was no doubt about it.

the way their eyes glow when the other is mentioned or walks into a room is something that is out of a disney film. the quick glances of adoration they give each other are constantly caught on camera proving their love for each other further more.

the way he looked at her when she was talking made it seem like she hung the moon and the stars, and there wasn’t a soul who could get daniel to tear his eyes away from the girl he loved calling a goddess.

“daniel, you listening?” she asked softly, looking at him a smile which told him she had caught him staring at her.

“can’t lie baby, I wasn’t.” he responded sheepishly but never taking his eyes off her. “you’re just so beautiful.” he muttered as he went closer to her and stroked her cheek.

“how’s the greek going?” she asked with a soft smile as she looked into his eyes with complete affection.

“I think it’s going quite well. wanna hear me speak?” he spoke excitedly, a huge grin on his face as he asked the question.

“of course I do.” she replied, her smile matching his.

“εισαι η αγαπη της ζωης μου.” he says with a accent, a proud smile on his face. (you are the love of my life)

y/n laughed softly as blush crept on her face at his words. she reached up to kiss his cheek. “κι εσύ είσαι δικός μου.” she spoke sweetly. (and you are mine.)

“wait what does that mean?” he asked a little panicked as he goes on his phone to search it up, forcing a laugh out of her.

“I love you so much.” she tells him, grabbing his face to look at her.

he dropped his phone and kissed her with a smile, lifting her off her feet as they laughed into the kiss. “I love you too.” he says against her lips.

“I know, you love to show me off on instagram.” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair.

“can you blame me?” he responded, picking her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, moving his hands to be under her thighs to hold her. “you’re so fucking beautiful and I need to make sure everyone knows it.” he says, kissing her cheek as she blushed.

“thank you for leaning greek. you don’t understand how much i appreciate it.” she whispers to him, leaning her forehead against his as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“of course love, got make sure your family can understand my vows.” he smiles smugly as he walks towards the sofa still holding her in his arms as he sits down.

“been waiting three years for you to ask.” she joked as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“don’t worry, I’ll ask soon. just don’t want you to be expecting it.” he said, kissing her head when he saw her cheeks turn red.

they both sat in a comfortable silence as daniel rested his head on y/n’s, stroking her thigh as he smiled at the thought of the engagement ring he bought two weeks ago that was hiding in one of his socks at the back of his drawer.

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danielricciardo

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danielricciardo some more future wife appreciation

tagged; yourusername

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yourusername show me off 🤭🤭

⤷ danielricciardo course 🤭

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username looked at my bf and sighed cause why can’t he show me off like this

⤷ username cause if he did then people might try and take you away from him.

⤷ username omg thank you ☺️

⤷ username call me 😉

username future wife this, future wife that, make it present wife!

⤷ yourusername that’s what I am saying. I wanna be called his wife not his girlfriend 😔

⤷ danielricciardo all in due time baby

username yourusername if he gets you to wear a really nice dress and get your nails done, there’s a 95% chance he’s gonna propose

⤷ yourusername 🤭🤭 oml thank youuuu

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yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 282,627,911 others

yourusername HE PROPOSED IN GREEK. I AM GONNA BE HIS WIFEEEEEEEE 🪿🪿

tagged; danielricciardo

view 12,945 comments

username FINALLYY

username WHY DID SHE USE A DUCK EMOJI

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username in greek!! THATS ROMANCE

carlossainz55 finally did it I see

⤷ landonorris at least he no longer will say she’s his future wife, but just his wife

an; this is kinda of bad so I might end up re-writing this in the near future.

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[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twst Wonderland Headcanons pt. 2

Pt.1 Pt.3 Pt.4

Heartslabyul, Octavinelle, Scarabia, and Pomefiore are genuinely the only dorms that respect your dad.

Savannaclaw keeps trying to fight him with the exception of Jack, Ruggie, and Leona.

Ignihyde fears your father. Mainly because your father thinks Idia is some form of a perverted weirdo.

🦀: Yuu, that weird boy is looking at you and your cat again.

🎮: Please let me touch your cat…

🦀:….I’m going to give you five minutes to get away from us.

Meanwhile, Diasomnia, is still amused your dad tried to beat up Malleus.

The core emotions and feelings of Diasomnia towards Yuu’s dad is the following:

Malleus: Amused and now takes gaining any sort of relationship with you as a challenge

Silver: A bit wary of your dad but still gets why he’s so protective over you

Sebek: Wants to beat him up for threatening Malleus and thinks he can win

Lilia: As a father he understands and is probably going to tell Malleus not to purposefully irritate your father for his own good.

After witnessing Riddle’s overblot, your father is convinced on staying at the Isle Sage’s hotel

Or maybe trying RSA

Whatever option comes first.

In fact, he actually tried to bolt out of NRC after the Savannaclaw overblot.

🦀: Yuu! Yuu! Yuu, listen to me! These kids are not right in the head. A hyena furry boy was using magic to control people’s bodies so they fall down the stairs. For a school tournament! And the lion furry man, BY THE WAY, he is 20! He tried to turn everyone into sand!

🦐: Dad, please, they’re my friends and I give them comfort. Plus Riddle and Leona were having a mental health crisis.

🦀: These kids are serial killers or murders in the making! We should’ve ran when we found out they worshipped Disney villains!

You end up running out of NRC with your father with Grim, and by the time morning came, someone has already found you.

♥️: Yo. I heard Yuu was staying here now.

🦀: How did you find us?

♥️: Um…I had a bit of help…more like magic spell really.

Deuce, Epel, Jack, Silver, and Sebek step out from behind Ace.

🦀: *Sigh* Look, I get we teleported into your school, but we really don’t need to stay there-

🦐: Dad, can’t I attend school there until we go home? It’s perfect.

🦀: They literally don’t even have a girls bathroom for you to use.

🦐: Doesn’t matter. I can use the bathroom when no one is in there.

Then things heat up when Malleus appears.

🐉: There you are, Child of Man. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.

🦀: Let me guess, you didn’t see her inside her room when you floated by? Like you usually do when you think no one notices?

🐉: Child of Man, would you like to go to my gargoyles club meeting? It’s really only me, but together we can bring more people.

🦀: That is the worst lie for a date I’ve ever heard. Also, her name is Yuu not Child of Man. And this Man is named F/N. Besides, we still don’t know your actually name Hornyton.

The mocking of the nickname Yuu picked out for him causes him to get upset. Which inadvertently activated the fairy tale fae behavior.

🐉: You know, a name is a very important thing to give away. If I give my name to you, you must give something to me.

🦀: You realize I can just break into Crowley’s office and get your school records or just ask anyone what your name is, right?

🐉: Perhaps, your daughter might be something of equal value to give. My name for a girl with an otherworldly name. I assure you I’ll treat her well if you give her to-

Your dad punches Malleus square in the nose and KOs him.

⚡️: WAKA-SAMA!

❤️&♠️: Damn.

🗡️: I told him not to make being in a relationship with Yuu a challenge.

🍎: Nice right hook.

🐺: What good form.

Your dad shuts the door, and packs up your stuff again.

You move back into Ramshackle the next day, but this time there’s iron hanging around the doors and windows.

[brbzonedout]

-Movie Night

Pairing: E!42 Miles x Spider-person!reader

Warnings: Protectiveness…if that triggers you.

Outside of Miles’s window the streets buzzed with noise, from cars honking their horns to people yelling for their kids to come inside.

It was late at night as usual and Miles was sitting at his desk listening to music as he sketched out ideas for a creative writing paper that he couldn’t visualize properly.

knock knock…

That was unexpected.

Miles turned toward his bedroom window to see you standing out there with a excited smile. The boy smirked subconsciously wondering what you were doing here this late, especially without texting him first.

He opened the window and helping you crawl through.

“Don’t worry your mom knows i’m here,” you said landing on the hard wood floor of his bedroom.

“ho-”

“I texted her..anyways look!” you lifted your phone to his face showing him the disney plus app.

Miles squinted his eyes shielding them from the phones aggressive brightness, “What am I looking at?” he stifled a laugh.

You turned the phone back to your view, eye brows furrowed, “Are we not looking at the same thing? Little mermaid is on disney plus now so we can watch it!”

“You ran all the way here just to watch The little mermaid?”

The boy closed the window behind you and took your jacket off your back to hang in his closet.

“With you…” you stated with a smile kicking off your shoes.

With a sound understanding he turned back around to face you, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I coulda gotten snacks and shit.” the question came with a concern glare.

“Number one…” You held up a book bag full of both your favorite snacks.

“And two you wouldn’t have let me walk over here myself,” you grumbled, sounding slightly annoyed, seated on his edge of his bed in your hello kitty pajama pants. “then I would’ve had to wait for you to get me…then walk here….then have you walk me back home, then wait for you to get back home and you like to take stops so-”

He rolled his eyes and joined you on the bed. “Well yeah ima walk wit you, you know where we live right?”

“You realize i’m the Spinner right?” said in a whisper, matter of factly.

Miles sighed not wanting to have this conversation for the 3rd time this month. “Yeah ok y/n…lemme see the bag….please.”

You snorted getting ready to chew the boy out for his lack of manners, “I was bout to say- here.” after digging into the bag you handed over a platter of caribbean food from the place down the block.

“Wha- this is food food…”

“I may have also stopped at Mrs. Kiyana’s shop…allegedly.”

Miles stifled a laugh and took the platter. As he opened it he noticed you got everything exactly the way he liked it, jerk chicken with Jamaican cabbage, and plantains.

He held back a smile, “Thank you..” said in a soft whisper like tone as he reached his hand into the platter.

“Of course,” you reached back in the bag pulling out two forks. “I know you not about to eat that with your hands-”

The boy stopped in his tracks and awkwardly took one of them out of your hand. “Right, my bad..”

I might make a part two to this one as well. BUT I KIND OF LIKE THE WAY THIS CAME OUT!! YAY! Anyways thank you for reading<3

©brbzonedout

[flowerandblood]

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

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[violetasteracademic]

The Glass Coffin: HOFAS x Elriel

Many HOFAS spoilers ahead!! This is an INTENSIVE post on all the Elriel coding in HOFAS, so strap in! This is largely a theory post and my personal interpretations, so take it or leave it! It's all in good fun.

Let's start with The Glass Coffin. When it comes to the analysis of the songs Bryce played for Azriel and Nesta in the much beloved and much dissected bonus chapter, I have seen a lot of conversation around Stone Mother and significantly less (if any?) around The Glass Coffin!

The Glass Coffin is played next after the Stone Mother. And it is a ballet.

What is the The Glass Coffin?

My friends, it is Sleeping Beauty.

Now we all know that many suspect Elriel to be a Sleeping Beauty retelling. And I'll be honest, I take a lot of the mythology or "retellings" with a grain of salt when it comes to SJM, because she doesn't do incredibly loyal retellings but takes bits and pieces of inspiration. I suppose it's up to you where you draw the line of a retelling, or free IP inspiration. But one thing to understand about IP is that Sarah J. Maas would have to get Disney's permission to call her work a retelling of Disney's Sleeping Beauty. Much like Beauty and The Beast, she did not "retell" the Disney princess movie, but the original La Belle et la Bête by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve published in 1740. So with that little lesson in intellectual property, lets look at the story of The Glass Coffin, because it is actually quite interesting:

A magician forces a proposal on a Maiden using his magic. The Maiden is repulsed by the use of magic in the proposal and rejects him. The Magician turns her brother into a stag, traps her in the glass coffin, and enchants the land around them.

There is a LOT to unpack here. I do not think Lucien is "The Magician" in this story. Instead, I think the Cauldron is, and I do think that the use of magic to force a proposal is a very close parallel to what Azriel discovered in HOFAS: That the Cauldron had been corrupted by the Asteri to serve their will. If you have read all of the books in the multiverse, you know that there is no other SJM universe where mating bond rejections happen. There is no other universe in which there are unhappily mated pairs forced together because the function of the mating bond, at a base level, is simply to produce the most powerful offspring. Mates in other worlds are true soulmates, and they fall in love before discovering they are mates.

In HOFAS, Azriel listened to a song from The Glass Coffin. He also listened to the story of Silene, and learned that the Cauldron was corrupted by the Asteri. It is not a theory or interpretation that the Asteri curate powerful bloodlines to ensure they have the strongest food from the souls that they eat. It is a fact. So it is not a jump to interpret that the Cauldron's corruption by the Asteri, and mates that are not a good fit on a soul level but forced together to produce powerful offspring, are one and the same. At this time, both Azriel and Elain have discussed feelings of repulsion or discomfort regarding E/ucien's bond. There are also negative consequences to a female rejecting the bond, as there were for the Maiden in The Glass Coffin. Rejecting a bond can lead to madness on the males end in Prythian because he believes he is entitled to her, just as the Maiden rejecting the Magician's proposal led to him trapping her in glass and enchanting the lands so no one else could have her.

This is already quite interesting, but it gets even more powerful as you continue to breakdown the Elain coding in HOFAS.

This line basically started a war:

"I can hear your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer, "Can you hear mine?" (ACOWAR, chpt. 24)

Now many people have used this to claim she is Lucien's mate, because she can hear his heartbeat. Though only a few pages earlier, we had this moment:

Elain can hear Feyre's heartbeat. She says if she listens carefully, she can hear hers too. At the time, we all assumed she was talking about Nesta. And yet we've discovered that Vesperus, an Asteri, (or Valg, depending on which theory you vibe with) was also a beating heart under the stone.

Inside a glass coffin.

More than that, we have this passage:

We now know that the Prison was once the Dusk Court, and just like UTM, The Hewn City, and Ramiel, it is encapsulated in stone beneath the mountain. Within the stone of the Prison lies the long buried heart of the Dusk Court. When you look back at Elain's line to Lucien, and see that she is staring out at the city, looking for answers at the heart she can hear beating beneath the stone, and not Lucien, this all starts to click together in a brilliant way. And the imagery, the island having a soul nurtured and blossoming under her care, has Elain written all over it.

Now, the reason I bring up the Hewn City here is because I believe there is a reason for Elain's lifelessness and distress in the Hewn City that has nothing to do with her wearing the color black.

In HOFAS, we discover a few important things about Earth Fae. Lidia discovers in her time on Team Archives what the Earth Fae did, and what their powers were used for:

Earth Fae were used on Midgard to discover ley lines of power to create powerful strongholds. One important thing I have noticed is that all Fae on Midgard are said to come from either Erilea or Prythian (at least that is all that is mentioned) and yet there is no indicator of where the Earth Fae come from. it is my personal belief the Earth Fae are from Prythian. Yet the entire Dusk Court disappeared, and their story continued on Midgard. It is my belief that Elain is not only a Seer, but that she has also been gifted with the Earth powers that have since been lost on Prythian, priming her to both restore Earth powers on Prythian as well as the Dusk Court.

What does this have to do with the Hewn City?

Earth Fae experience distress when they are in places where the magic is dead or warped, and they are the only ones that can feel it:

Bryce mentions she forgets the Earth Fae even have magic, because what they can do is often unseen.

If Elain is in possession of the lost Earth power, she would have been able to feel her power literally shriveling up and dying anywhere that has been warped by that magic.

And then of course we have the fact that the cave on Prythian is an exact match to the Cave of Princes on Avallen. We end HOFAS with all the weapons in the possession of the IC, the knowledge that there are cache's of magic hidden in the lands, and that there are places where the magic has been twisted and must be freed, one being the Prison/Dusk Court.

This was the imagery used once the magic was freed on Avallen, and it took its true, lush, blossoming form:

If what is true on Avallen will also be true once the Dusk Court is freed on Prythian, answer this question honestly: When you read this imagery- blooming vines and roses, beautiful and surreal, the land seeming to know her, small blooming flowers nestling around her body and in her hair- who do you think of? Who could this possibly be alluding to back in Prythian?

Elain's coding was all over HOFAS, and Azriel's "what if the Cauldron was wrong storyline" continued. These statements are true, even if none of my theories about her being an Earth Fae are right, though I know I'm not the only one who believes that is where we are headed!

The fact that The Glass Coffin is Sleeping Beauty, and that Azriel listened to it, may not be a powerful statement on its own (though I think it is). But the fact that the Cauldron corruption was revealed, and The Glass Coffin is a story of a woman who was entrapped due to her rejecting a proposal forced by magic, and Sarah used the Glass Coffin again with Vesperus, potentially tying her back to the heartbeat Elain can hear if she listens closely, it's all just too much to ignore.

I was personally overwhelmed by all of the Elain and Azriel nods in HOFAS. I think they get buried under all of the criticism in the book. I am so excited to see where everything goes, and I hope you had fun going down this rabbit hole with me!

[atlafan]

This is the teacher that kids either love or hate, there’s no in between. Mr. Styles has his quirks, and according to your niece, you either get him or you don’t. The annoying thing is, Mr. Styles teaches all of the science electives like astronomy, astrophysics, forensic science, marine science, zoology, and meteorology. These aren’t required courses, but they’re only a semester long. After completing biology, students can either take a full year of chemistry and a full year of physics, or they can do a full year of chemistry or physics, and two science electives. Or they can do four science electives.

Mr. Styles also is the only AP Chemistry and AP Physics teacher. There’s really no avoiding him. Some students accept this, and others continue to live in denial.

Many students know their strengths and passions. They were made to be scientists. Your niece, who loves science, is taking as many courses as possible to help herself out for college later on. She’s in AP Chemistry with Mr. Styles, as well as forensic science. Your niece loved Mr. Styles until he gave her an F for missing an exam. She had been out sick. She had a note from her doctor and everything! Your niece blubbered to you about it.

You know Mr. Styles. You work at the same school as Mr. Styles. You’re the music teacher. You typically avoid Mr. Styles. You’re in a completely different area of the school. Many students complain about him, but just as many praise him. But this time it’s personal. He made your niece cry, at school! You told her she could stay in your office for a bit to calm down. You were marching your way to Mr. Styles’ classroom. You didn’t care if he was teaching. You were going to barge in.

When you get to his door, you see him sitting at his desk through the little window. It’s a prep period. When you giggle the handle of the door, it doesn’t turn. So, you pound on the door with your fist while Mr. Styles takes his sweet time coming to open it.

“Miss-“

“Don’t even address me right now, I’m too mad.”

“I don’t think I know you well enough for you to be venting to me about something.” He says as he closes the door. “But I guess I can listen since I have time.”

“I’m here because you’re being an asshole to my niece. She missed school because she was sick and you wouldn’t let her makeup a test. That’s against school policy.”

“Not with AP courses.” He crosses his arms over his chest. You can’t help but feel frazzled at his attire. The dichotomy of him wearing a Disney shirt about love while he’s scowling is is almost comical. “If a student is sick on the day of the exam, then that’s it. They fail. They don’t get to try again.”

“How is she going to get into a good school if she has an F on her transcript?!”

“She’s not going to fail the class. She knew I had a strict policy. Also, I put out exam dates well in advance. She knew what day it was going to be.”

“She was sick!”

“Was she vomiting uncontrollably? Was she coughing up blood? Was she bed ridden? If the answer is no to any of those, then she could have come in to take the exam.”

“Right, so then she could get all of the other kids sick?”

“Masks are a thing. Plenty of students still wear them in the classroom. She could have come in for the exam and then left afterwards. Why do you care so much? You’re not her legal guardian. Her parents haven’t emailed or called to complain. At the mandatory parents meeting I run at the beginning of the school, I make it clear to the parents that I am strict for a reason.”

“My sister and brother-in-law haven’t called to complain because they don’t know about any of this. She came crying to me because she has no idea how to tell them because she knows she’s going to be asked if she knew it was an exam day. Which she completely forgot because she was sick and her brain was foggy.”

“She’ll have opportunities to make up her grade. Her participation counts for a lot and she’s always participating.”

“You don’t understand mental instability these overachievers have. I’ve seen that girl cry over an A-. Shooting her in the stomach would hurt less than getting a bad grade. Do you get off on being a dick?”

“You know what? This is my prep period, and I was busy.”

“Yeah, your door was locked.” You scoff.

“I always lock it. I don’t like when people filter in and out during my prep.”

“What if a student had an emergency and needed you?! Why are you even a teacher if you don’t care about students?! Do you have any idea how hard these kids have it? They don’t even teach them how to use computers anymore! No one knows how to touch type! Everyone assumes they have it easy, but they don’t. A lot of kids come to school because it’s better than being at home. You making it worse for them is a real turn off. I know you have students that adore you, but you also have students that would love the opportunity to spit in your food.”

“Are you done?”

“That depends, do you understand the points I’ve made?”

“Yes. You were very clear.”

“Are you going to take what I said into consideration as you’re teaching?”

“No.”

“You’re a fucking prick.”

“And you’re…” His eyes go up and down, checking her out. “It’s a good thing your room is on the other side of the school.” He shakes his head.

“Why? Afraid I’ll spit in your food?”

“No, in fact, I’d welcome your spit. I’d like it preferably in my mouth, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He shrugs and sits down at his desk.

Your mouth is agape. Did he really just say that to you?

“Are you serious?”

“Very.” He stands back up and saunters over to her. “If you’d like to cuss me out some more, could we do it over dinner?”

“I…”

“You never gave me a chance to take you out a few years ago. Remember that night we were both at that bar?”

“I do.” You nod as you blush. “But that was a mistake. I had a boyfriend…”

“Do you still?”

“No.”

“Alright, well, I would love to be in your presence again while you’re all fired up. Are you free Saturday night?”

“Pick me up at seven.”

“I’ll make a reservation somewhere I know we’ll be secluded so you can yell at me some more.”

“Stop talking before I change my mind.” You say and storm out of his classroom.

While you were teaching your sixth period choral class, Harry was teaching his forensic science class. Your niece got there a few minutes early to talk to Mr. Styles as he stood outside the class to greet the other students coming in.

“So…did it work?” She asked quietly.

“Like a charm.”

“She said yes?!”

“Mhm.” He grinned. “You must have put on quite the performance. She was really angry.”

“If you thought that made her angry, wait until she inevitably finds out that we worked together to trick her.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

[artist-issues]

Yeah, again, you can tell that the creators of Wish wanted certain moments to be impactful and to hit as hard as any other animated Disney movie’s moments did. But they didn’t. Because there was no convincing build-up for the moments to peak on.

You can tell which moments they are.

When Asha and the King sing “At All Costs” - If you listen to the song on its own, and you have no context (which is to say, you make up the context on your own) it is moving. Because it’s a pretty-enough song with vaguely passionate lyrics, once you assign meaning to them. But the movie doesn’t build up why this song should be an impactful declaration for either Asha or Magnifico. We already knew that Magnifico made it his job to “protect” the wishes (which are the subject of the song.) Asha, on the other hand, has only just been introduced to us, and we know she “cares too much,” so we already knew she’d protect people’s wishes. The song isn’t giving us a deeper understanding of them, or a more interesting angle to look at their motivations.

But, that’s not really the problem. The problem is that the wishes are the subject of the song. And that whole concept, of wishes being tangible objects that hold the most important and beautiful part of people’s hearts, but when they’re tangible, they remove that part from the person, is bad. It’s not good to try and build a story of stolen-treasures on.

Because that’s how they’re treated. Like treasures that the king is hoarding, after manipulating the people of Rosas into giving them up. And you know what? That’s a terrible thing to sing a protective love song to.

Just think about it this way: the story is about a King who takes everyone’s favorite keepsakes (family jewels, ornaments, old photos) and promises to protect them, but in actuality…for some reason…the moment they hand the keepsakes over, they forget whatever made the keepsake important to them. And then the King and a young woman sing a heartfelt song to the photographs and old brooches about how they will love and protect the photographs and old brooches.

Do you see why this song is pretty but not impactful in the story? They shouldn’t be singing to the wishes. Even Magnifico. They should be singing to the people. The movie plays it as if that is what they’re doing—singing a heartfelt promise of protection to a person, or a people. But that’s not what they’re doing, and do you know why?

Because the people have forgotten their wishes.

By definition, the actual human beings in Rosas cannot care (believably) about the bubbles in King Magnifico’s tower. They can only vaguely care about the chance of being happier than they are now, someday, if the wish they don’t even remember is granted. And what a terrible lesson, never mind plot point.

Anyway.

I digress. The point is, for a personally-worded, vow-of-protection-song to hit the audience meaningfully, it needed to matter to the person receiving the vow. But there is no person receiving the vow. Because of the narrative and lazy concept, only Asha and Magnifico care this much about the wishes. Because the people who made them have forgotten them. (More on this when I talk about Asha’s mom.)

When Sabino’s wish is not granted - This is supposed to be like a “Tiana’s restaurant gets taken away from her when she’s outbid” moment. The character is crushed when the thing they wanted and really believed they would finally get is taken away.

Doesn’t work in Wish, though. Because of a few things, but the main two are:

The audience has no reason to believe this means so much to Sabino because he hasn’t been shown really longing for his wish to come true.

This movie avoids any vulnerable emotion in facial expressions.

When Tiana loses her chance to have her wish come true, it is also unfair—she was already promised the property, but the brokers accepted a larger offer anyway, and it’s implied to be because of racism. Similarly, everyone acts like Sabino is entitled to (“promised”) having his wish come true because he’s so old and it’s his birthday. Plus we, the audience, know that Magnifico isn’t rejecting his wish for good reasons, and that Sabino’s wish is unselfish. So it’s meant to feel unfair and sad when he doesn’t get it, but it’s not. Not like it felt with Tiana.

Not only does the lazy concept of wishes and forgetting them once they’re tangible hamstring all of this—but the fact that Sabino has had nothing but a handful of sparse lines (ones like “we don’t know for sure that I’ll get my wish granted”) to convince us that he really cares about this hamstrings it, too.

When Tiana loses her restaurant property, it’s only about 24 minutes into The Princess and the Frog, and we have already had:

1 - A song about how hard she’s worked for it. 2 - An opening scene where her relationship with her father connects the restaurant to a deeper, more personal meaning for her.

3 - Several scenes where she is shown doing drastic things to get enough money for it; her drawer full of tip money; the two jobs she works with only a minute’s sleep in between; her friends asking her to come dancing but reiterating the fact that she often loses time for fun and their good feeling toward her because “all she does is work.”

4 - We are also shown that people don’t believe she’ll get it. The cook at her job mocks her for her wish, which makes it all the more important to the audience that she gets it—to prove the jerks wrong.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the restaurant is directly tied to Tiana’s character flaw AND her strengths, at the same time, so that it’s killing two birds with one stone—we’re shown who Tiana is, and we’re convinced to empathize with her when something sad happens to her.

Sabino has zero of those things going for him. No character details or set pieces to hint to us that he wants the wish to be granted so badly—no speeches about what it means to him—no memories tied to how he began to wish for this thing—because there can’t be. Because he’s spent 82 years not wishing. Because he’s lived the majority of his life totally forgetting what he wanted. You couldn’t logically show any evidence that he wanted it that much, then, could you?

So Sabino can’t be shown caring too much about not getting his wish. Therefore the audience doesn’t care either. We’re shown a glimpse of his sad face, and Asha’s sad face, and then told, “now feel sad!” But the work wasn’t put in to make it happen.

They cut their legs out from under themselves.

Now you could say, “well it wasn’t really about Sabino’s disappointment, it was about Asha’s disappointment.”

Yeah, but that doesn’t really hold up either. I’ll explain how in the next moment-that-should’ve-made-us-feel-something failure:

When Asha’s family doesn’t believe her - This scene is very clearly supposed to be like the one where Mulan has an argument with her family about her father going to war, and knowing her place, and he yells at her and she runs out distraught.

You definitely feel for Mulan and care about how she’s feeling in this scene—you might even cringe at the part where her dad yells at her. Part of that is because the scene is so well-done—there’s the buildup of tension as the camera cuts between each family member quietly drinking their tea, refusing to talk about the day’s devastating events. Then Mulan bursts out by slamming her teacup down and starting the yelling, herself, in outrage. Her dad stays quiet and steady like he has the whole movie up till now, so then when he stands up and shouts at her, about the exact thing she has been so upset over since the Matchmaker’s, the audience really feels the impact.

You don’t feel the same way about Asha, and it’s not just because her family argument scene wasn’t done as well—it’s also not just because, as you can see above, the movie keeps tiptoeing away from emotional vulnerability in the way the characters look.

It’s mostly because there’s been no impactful buildup to this scene. Again.

When Mulan has an argument with her father, you know what it means to her to have him yell at her about doing what’s right in her own place—you’ve had the whole first few scenes of the movie to convince you of it.

Mulan is upset because she wants to find her place and she loves her father very much. But she does not, ever, say the words “I love my father so much.” She doesn’t even outright say things like that before the argument. She doesn’t say to the Matchmaker, “Won’t you please give me another chance? My father has been praying about this for weeks, and I can’t bear to disappoint him. My father is a great man; he fought for the Emperor and was wounded in the wars; for his sake, can’t you help me?”

Asha does. Asha says to King Magnifico (but really, to us, the audience) “My grandfather’s wish! It’s beautiful.” And “Your Highness, couldn’t you grant his wish?” And to her friends, and to her mother, and to her grandfather himself—over and over she just reminds us with flat, “okay-we-get-it” dialogue and exposition of what she wants.

Whereas Mulan shows us. She convinces us. She runs up to her father, in the very first scene, and we’re shown that even though she has trouble remembering what she’s supposed to say to the matchmaker—even though she has trouble remembering what time it is and getting her other chores done—with this one part of her life, her father, she can remember exactly what the doctor said about how much tea he needs to drink. And she is prepared for her own clumsiness to make sure he gets it.

And even after she doesn’t get what she wants, and is shown to be so ashamed she can’t even look at him (because that’s how much she loves him and cares what he thinks) the only thing that makes her feel better is when he carefully compares her to a late-blooming flower and basically promises that he believes in her, anyway. We know how much Mulan cares about her father because we’ve been convinced by the way the movie artfully and carefully shows it.

We also know that she cares about knowing her place, specifically because of her family’s wishes for her. So all of this combines to prove to us that having her father shout at her about knowing his place and why he’s going to die willingly is a devastating thing for her. Enough for her to run out of the house sobbing and cling to a pillar as if she can’t hold herself up.

But when Asha runs out of the house (barely sobbing, just kind of breathing fast, because there’s no vulnerability in this movie) and stumbles up to a tree in the same way, we don’t really believe something so devastating has happened to her.

Everything happened too fast. She just kept saying she cares about Sabino’s wish coming true, and that she loves him. When he explodes at her (and really out-of-nowhere asks if she wants to “break his heart”) it’s the first time he’s shown any kind of intense emotion, either toward her, or about his wish.

There is no build-up. So it just feels awkward, and kind of like a high school production where one of the kids hasn’t even been trying to act, but in one scene, he suddenly starts yelling because that’s what his character is supposed to do. And it’s just cringe because you haven’t seen that level of energy, happy or sad, good or bad, at all up until now.

And that’s a problem because it leads right into Asha’s “This Wish” song, which is supposed to be like her “Mulan riding off to war” moment. But it’s not set up well by the emotions tied to the family argument, or the emotions tied to the conflict with the King, so you don’t really care.

Moving on to the next emotional-moment failure:

When King Magnifico threatens Queen Amaya - I don’t have much to say about this one; I think you’re getting the point. When there’s nothing but bland words and one-liners spoken to convince us that the characters are thinking and feeling how they’re thinking and feeling, moments like this one just feel boring and forced. And try-hard.

Like, the lighting? The music? Fine. Good. When he points his new magic wand at her threateningly, and clearly appears ready to betray her? All that stuff is fine. It just hasn't been built up to, so it doesn’t hit.

It’s like, “that’s it?” He just says one line about, “Are you betraying me?” And she pours forth a bunch of lines like “no I’ve always believed in you and in Rosas.” And then he’s basically like “okay, I’m convinced, moving on” which of course is him already knowing that she’s betrayed him and already having a plan to trap Asha…but still. From Queen Amaya’s point of view, there’s nothing emotional here.

We’re supposed to believe they’re madly in love and that she trusts him wholeheartedly, so that when he falls to dark magic and she chooses to side with Asha it’s this big moment. But it happens so fast.

There’s no moment where Queen Amaya grieves her husband. There’s no real sense of loss, or even of impactful betrayal. The voice actress delivers every line like she’s trying and failing to feel what the character feels as she reads the lines to a 5 year-old who needs every concept spoon-fed to them.

And King Magnifico drops her like a bag of dirt instantly. No sense of loss from him, either. He’s not even condescending to her, like, for example, Mayor Lionheart was to Dawn Bellwhether in Zootopia. Or like Jafar was to Iago. All of those things would’ve made their quick severing of bonds to each other make more sense.

But we’re not shown that Queen Amaya has sensed any darkness building in her husband over the years, and is just now realizing that this is the last straw and maybe he was never the man she thought he was. She treats him like she adores him (blandly) for the whole first half of the movie. No hint of doubt. Even when he goes for the forbidden book the first time, she easily convinced him not to and then wandered away like “well, took care of that.”

When Asha’s mother loses her wish - The biggest problem with this moment is still lack of buildup, and that is because the tangible-wish forgetfulness thing is stupid as we’ve established. We don’t believe she feels grief, even when she says she does, because we don’t know this woman at all. We don’t know what she wants, or how badly she wants it—we certainly don’t feel that she’s been missing her wish.

But the other offenses are worth mentioning. When Asha’s mother’s wish is broken by Magnifico, she just…gasps. And her father-in-law says her name, and Asha yells something typical like “no!” She looks a little weak in the knees, like maybe she can’t walk for a second, so the 100 year-old man supports her.

But the cameras spend no time on how this is affecting her. The shots of the family escape in the immediate aftermath of this world-shattering thing don’t let us see Asha’s mother’s face. Not that her facial expression is that devastated, anyway. It’s just “typical sadness” expression. There’s a shot where they’re going from the house to the stolen horses and if I remember correctly, Asha’s mother has her back to the camera the whole time; I was looking at her because I was like “something devastating just happened; this is the most interesting part of the scene.” But there was nothing to see.

They could’ve had her visually turn grey. They could’ve had her go mute, stare off into space, suddenly become scarily unreachable. They could’ve had her weeping uncontrollably. They could’ve just had her go catatonic—after all, we’re supposed to believe that even the chance of having “the most beautiful part of her” returned to her heart was just destroyed. Wouldn’t that logically make a person…cold? Calloused? Unfeeling? Uncaring? But no. She’s as just keen to express concern for Asha and apologize for being wrong about Magnifico and urge Asha to keep believing in herself, passionately, as she would’ve been before. No big deal, just lost the most beautiful part of myself forever.

Doesn’t help that we never knew what the mom’s wish even was, so even we can’t miss it.

So when she gets her wish back at the end, and she’s like, “come home.” It’s just…cringey.

When Asha convinces the crowd to wish for Magnifico’s defeat - The idea of the movie is that “the power of the stars is in you because we all came from stardust, so keep wishing and working toward it even when it’s hard.” So this moment is supposed to be impactful.

But it isn’t. Because that kind of thing isn’t impactful. They literally sing a song, glow, and Magnifico is defeated. Even if we were supposed to believe Star was dead, and this is bringing him back like Tinkerbell coming back to life, it’s still not impactful. Because one, it happens way too fast. And no character really emotes about it, like Peter did when he thought Tink was dead.

Two, that hasn’t been the point of the whole movie; the main character never had trouble believing that she was powerful enough to enact change. She barely doubted her own wish. If they wanted us to be excited that she could win based on the stardust in her heart, and in the kingdom’s hearts, alone, then they should’ve given us several scenes where it’s like “Asha is relying too much on Star’s power.”

But no, doubt and disbelief and reliance were never character flaws of hers for this moment to overcome. She doesn’t really have any character flaws, let’s be honest.

Even if you want to say “well sure, Asha didn’t doubt her own power, but the kingdom did! Otherwise, why would it’s citizens have put so much reliance on King Magnifico?” Okay, that’s nice, but 1) that is never solidly or impactfully alluded to in the story, beyond jokes about how handsome they think the king is and the literal plot point of trusting him with their wishes. And 2) having a whole kingdom of background characters believe something false and then get their minds changed in a split second is not nearly as impactful as having the main character’s mind changed first—and then she passes that knowledge on to them.

Like Judy Hopps learning to try to understand Nick, then encouraging all of Zootopia to try and understand each other. Like literally any good story where a whole kingdom needs to realize something.

Also it is never a good idea to defeat your villain just by singing about how you want to defeat your villain. Nobody should have to tell Disney that. They wrote the book on this.

But this movie was made by a company that no longer knows itself.

I could say more, like about the moment where Asha supposedly is at her lowest, or the part where Star “leaves,” or when her friends work together, or the “Knowing What I Know Now” song, but it’s all the same problems.

[deadghosy]

"Have you always been so damn ugly?"

"Hahaha...Fuck you."

PLATONIC ALASTOR X GN!READER

Warning: bit of a small oc.

YOU SIGHED LAYING on your bed tired like always as your counterpart, Neno is beside you purring. His black shadowy body hold you as you face the ceiling. It's not like you are a depressed person who has no social energy battery and stay in your room not wanting to talk to people. Of course you totally aren't like that...

You heard a static noise outside your door, you narrow your eyes seeing a red glow outside your door. "What the fuck..." you say to yourself seeing the glow. Neno opens his white glowing eyes as he lets go of your body and moves swiftly to the door. It seems like he know who it is as you get off your bed and open the door.  And there he is, the radio demon who smiles down at you.

"Why hello my shadowy fellow/madam!" He says entering your room as you tried to protest him entering. "Well this won't do!" He pulls open your curtain windows to let the light in. Neno hisses going into your shadow as your eyebags show. Alastor smiles that shit eating grin as he sits on your bed. "Well? Why don't you sit down my dear friend, we got things to discuss!" You just stand there side eyeing him.

"Have you always been so damn ugly?" Is what you said that came into your mind.

"Hahaha...Fuck you." Alastor says staring at you waving got you to sit with him.

No way in hell are you talking to the radio demon.

—

AND HERE YOU are ranting about how shitty your morning went about how you felt like shit and how you felt no motivation or feelings at all. Alastor just stares and nod with a smile listening to you. You don't even know why you are actually venting to him about. Sometimes with yourself, you have these weird feelings where you can't feel anything but you aren't depressed. You just can't understand some things really.

Alastor stops you from going into deep context as he smiles thinking of something. "Why don't we go for a walk my dear friend!" He says enthusiastic. You just stare at him with a blank stare...."I'm not your frie-" Alastor snaps his fingers as he has you in an outfit that seems a bit old timey. Kinda seems off the way you dressed back in the 2000's but you liked the color palette it has.

Your hair looked better as you smile looking at Neno who gave you a thumbs up with Alastor and his own shadow counterpart. "Okay! Not bad old man." "I am not an old man" he says with a slight twitch in his eye. "Whatever man" you say chuckling softly at him. Next thing you know you go picked up onto alastor's shoulder with a blank confused face as he takes you out your room.

"Now let's go on an adventure. Can't let you rot in your room like some kind of corpse dear!"

—

YOU "WALKED" around pentagram city still on alastor's shoulder as he hums a tune while you just sat there in his shoulder like a little kid leaving sea world/ Disney world with their father.

"Where are we even going Alastor...."

"Somewhere~" he said in a song tune way.

You just sighed as he wasn't even giving you a straight answer. You felt a "bling" in your pocket. That must be your hell phone. You looked at it to see the contact, "BIG BOSS🔥" calling you. You answer him hearing a bunch of quacks and tools hitting the ground.

"Heyyyyy....ducklinggg" you heard Lucifer says awkwardly. "Hello. Sir." You said flatly. Lucifer's silly smile faltered hearing your flat tone as he sighs.

"Listen I'm sorry I didn't order you right the things for you. I was busy." You heard another quack and a squeak.

"Busy making a doll house for your ducks?"

".....low blow but I can send you your favorite pastry!" He says excitedly on his end of the phone.

You stayed quiet this time but smile showing your sharp teeth, "sure man. I'll forgive you." "FANTASTIC! I'll see you in 2 hours!"

"Wait wh-" and the phone hang up.

Why the hell he said he was gonna order them to you, but come in person...

—

NOW YOU WERE confused even more as you reach a part of town you didn't even know. Alastor smiles as you see demons with black eyes like those were cartoons you use to watch back then. But the town seems lovely and lively as you see a person giving out cotton candy.

Your eyes light up, catching the taller male's attention as he smirks turning his walking direction to the cotton candy stand.

"Hello mister, I would like one cotton candy for the little lady/fellow on my beloved shoulder." Alastor said as you felt embarrassed by how some people watched you as you fidget with your fingers. The man nods with a sharp teethed smile and gave Alastor, who gives you your cotton candy.

You smile awkwardly taking the cotton candy from Alastor and ate it. You gotta admit it was tasty as fuck! The candy melted on your tongue and your eyes lit up like shimmering glitter in a summer sun. Alastor smile softly at you and turns to building while you eat. As Alastor enters you heard a ladies voice.

"Yeah, and I would eat my husband too!"

You turn to see a lady who is wearing an old timey fit and she is very tall, slender-built demon with pale gray skin, and a wide mouth full of sharp light pink teeth, black-colored lips and dusty-pink cheeks. Her eyes are pitch-black.

You always liked to look at people sometimes to observe, it's a weird habit of yours at times but you must admit this lady was beautiful.

"Oh Rosie dear!"

"Alastor hon!" The lady says cheery as she walks to Alastor and you. You hopped off of Alastor landing on Neno who held his hand for you to softly get on the ground. The two overlords hug as you finally noticed who she was. She was the one Alastor told you about sometimes.

"Oh and who is this cutie! Aw I could just eat you up!"

"Please don't." You said with an awkward smile as she pinches your cheek like a granny.

She chuckles putting a hand to her face, "oh don't worry, Alastor told me all about you and how such a dearie you are to him at times."

You raised a brow at that. "Really?" You looked at Alastor who seems to be ignoring your gaze as you just scrunched your face up in confusion.

"Why yes! You're the [animal/shadow] demon he was talking about!" She says as she cups her hands in your. Neno watches as he swirls around your body and playful nibbles on Rosie who chuckles. "And this much be your pet!" "Counter part actually.." Rosie had a surprised look as she looks into Neno's eyes which is pure white, opposite from Rosie's own eyes.

"Well isn't that swell..."

(I'm tired so I can't finish the part where you get to hang out with Lucifer again. My head ache and me being drowsy as shit isn't helping. Hope you enjoyed this)

[sosuigeneris]

Socialite series: Manufacturing your Personality

So you want to get into high society. I can give you a guideline as to how you can do that. 

I was born in high society, in India. I know how these systems work. Even across cultures, they’re quite similar. I know some German, Asian, American high society people. Certain things are very similar across continents. 

You can permanently secure your position by two ways: marriage, or by becoming somebody. 

In Indian high society, there’s two kinds of people: those who have lineage, and those who are rich. 

Those who have lineage are those (mostly bankrupt) Maharajas, artists, singers, musicians, poets for generations - it’s an art form or royalty handed down to their children. They have ✨culture, a legacy✨ that can only be obtained by birth. They want to mingle with the business rich so that they get access to the opportunities they need for their livelihoods. 

The business rich can be new or old money. It doesn’t matter. Their businesses are family businesses. They have money, but may lack class. Don’t be mistaken that only new money can be “tacky” - I know plenty of influential, old money families who are equally classless and tacky. 

They want to mingle with the lineage crowd because they need that ✨culture✨ to be seen as someone. They want to be associated with them, to improve their reputations. By connecting to the artistic and musical world, it shows that they have class and persona. 

Both groups, as you see, need each other. You may ask - can’t there be families where there’s both?

Yes there can. But that is not common. 

Let’s say you take the route of dating someone who is of high society, and are hoping to convert that into marriage. I’ll be very honest with you - you have to seriously stand out for Asian and Middle Eastern high society families to accept you if you lack both lineage and money. 

You need to have a strong educational background - you need to go to a great college or masters, or whatever - otherwise this is really not going to happen. This is requirement number 1. If you don’t have this, don’t even bother reading the rest. 

And in Asian and ME families, remember one thing. Marriages are between families, NOT individuals. You have to impress the family, the family’s friends, their maids and barbers and god knows who else. 

And here are Cherry’s insider tips, just for you, to fit right in. If you fit in comfortably, it makes your life and everyone else’s life easier. 

Extrovert tendencies 

don’t be intimidated by people, don’t be shy or awkward 

It’s better to mix in being a combination of “social + slightly bored” like “it’s nice to meet you, but I wouldn’t die to be here.” 

Be open without jumping around like a Disney kid. Being “overexcited” or jumpy, smiling and laughing at just about everything comes across as weird in some cultures, IF that’s not how you genuinely are. That might work in the US, but not everywhere else. 

If I had to very simply define an extrovert - approach new people with ease, learn the art of small talk and be a good listener. 

Confident 

have a sense of self: career, hobbies, likes or dislikes, experiences

Be a multi faceted person. Do things that YOU like. If you like reading Japanese literature and collecting quartz, great! That’s your thing! 

Good communication skills

articulate, small talk abilities, good listener, curious, engaging

be able to tell little stories about yourself without giving everything away 

Well dressed 

do an image consultation for your colours, understand your body shape type and find a style that works for you

Create a capsule wardrobe that is timeless 

Remember - modesty is ALWAYS the best idea for any event. 

Posture - stand up straight, be able to walk in heels, sit without slouching

if you don’t know how to walk in heels, learn to. Practice it. 

Sit up straight, do some yoga or something for good posture 

Maintenance- good skin, hair, fit body, skin, nails, teeth; good hygiene; smell good 

hygiene comes first. Shower regularly, wash your hair as often as needed. 

Put on perfume. 

Find a make up style that works for you. Again, this takes practice. It took me years to figure out what kind of eyeliner works on my eyes and that bronzer doesn’t suit me at all. Crazy make up, unnatural hair colours, visible tattoos or piercings will not sit well in these societies. 

Etiquette 

dining etiquette- learn how to eat properly. This is not just for white culture but for other cultures as well. Understand broadly how popular cultures etiquettes work - Japanese eating etiquettes, European fork and knife etiquette, Korean drinking etiquette, Indian and Middle Eastern etiquette, etc. 

giving appropriate gifts to the host - bottle of wine or flowers 

Learn thank you etiquette- shoot a text message to the host thanking them for the event 

Intelligence

Show that you have some sort of a personality. 

Stay updated with current affairs

know your line of work and the relevant people (top companies, CEOs, etc), trends happening in your industry 

Be open to learning new things  

Put together

have a routine, show some form of discipline. 

This can be done by committing to something long term, such as healthy habits - exercise, reading, waking up early. 

Keep a watch on what you say 

people, especially women, who come across as bratty are seen as a big no no and can come across as exhausting and blood sucking. Zip it. 

Don’t talk about your failures, vulnerabilities, mistakes or mishaps. That’s confidential. 

Don’t complain or be snotty or a potty mouth. 

Do not put other people down in front of people who are not your absolute close friends. 

Poise (this is for your mental health and wellbeing)

Don’t be over eager. Being overly friendly can be seen as submissiveness. 

You’re overly friendly with someone because you want to be accepted by them. Acceptance only happens when you’re familiar with one another. When you become too familiar, it becomes a breeding ground for disrespect. Boundaries get crossed easily. 

Body language

practice practice and practice. 

Video yourself and have a fake conversation with someone. Or maybe FaceTime a friend and record yourself and see how you react to things. 

I used to watch those “try not to laugh/ get angry/ cry” videos to maintain a strong facial expression at all times. Not everyone deserves to see you vulnerable. 

Social media 

Take. Shit. Down. 

Go private if you don’t make money of social media. You’re perceived as more mysterious if you’re a private account. 

Remember, even if you’re private, it doesn’t mean that your pictures aren’t being shared. Someone’s taken a screenshot at some point for SURE or shown your account to someone else. Don’t give anyone anything to talk about. 

Don’t upload every second of every day. 

Don’t upload anything questionable- your break ups, your new boyfriend, girls nights, clubbing, your latest shopping spree etc etc. Keep things halal. Think of it this way - if your boss were to see those photos, how would you feel?

Overexposing yourself on social media comes across as desperate for attention. Limit that.

Cherry 🍒

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Hades and Persephone

genre: idek. it doesn’t really fit into any category. ig maybe angst?

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: kidnapping, demon!chan

authors note: i’ve had this idea for a little while and i want to make it into a full length fic so lmk if you would be interested in that? this is just a drabble that would take place somewhere in the beginning-ish / middle of the full story? happy day 3! 💕 i’m posting this a little earlier than normal. but it’s sunday and im literally doing nothing except waiting for a game to download so why not go ahead and post it. hehe :)

main masterlist • channie’s birthday celebration masterlist

“do you know the story of hades and persephone?”

you didn’t really think now was the proper time for him to be asking you this question. you were in the backseat of a car, the man with the questions sitting to your right. some other man was driving you to an unknown location and you were panicking. your breathing was ragged and you knew it was threatening to not come at all. your hands were bound with a soft rope, but you knew thats not why your fingers were starting to tingle. you silently tried to pull at your restraints.

“are your bindings too tight?” the man asked. “i can loosen them a little.”

he reached for your hands and you flinched. he recoiled like you had hit him and he made sure to keep his hands in his lap after that. “i’m not going to hurt you. i promise.” he said softly. “i was just.. you’re just..” he looked lost for words. he looked at you, like you were the only thing on earth. like you were the full moon and he was a wolf. like you were his drug and he was an addict. like you were cold water after he had been stranded in the desert.

you didn’t know how to feel. the look he gave you sent butterflies through your stomach. but you knew you should be scared. you should be repulsed. you thought that this may be the quickest case of stockholm syndrome ever recorded. you remained quiet. trying to sort through your thoughts.

the only thing that was bound were your hands, and that was because you had continued to slap and hit him over and over once he got you into the car. you hadn’t screamed, which you were still internally punishing yourself for. but honestly, you were too shocked to even make a noise. shocked that you were being kidnapped, shocked that your kidnapper was so.. handsome? shocked that he smelled so so good? shocked that you kind of loved the way he effortlessly picked you up and placed you in the back of the car. like you weighed no more than a feather.

“so do you?” he asked. you looked up at him, the same look of adoration on his face. “know the story of hades and persephone?”

you shook your head no. you knew the names, but didn’t know their story. the only thing you knew of hades was from the disney movie hercules.

“could i tell you?” the handsome kidnapper asked. “i understand if you would rather me shut the fuck up.” he chuckled. and you found yourself almost smiling. your mouth threatening to pull up slightly at the sides but you did your best to control it. you did your best to force yourself to act like a normal person who has just been kidnapped. was there something wrong with you?

“you— you can tell me.” you said, voice shaky.

he smiled at you and you noticed a dimple on his cheek. the butterflies were back in your stomach, your heart beating faster.

“okay.. so. it’s been said that hades was the god of the underworld. and persephone was the daughter of demeter and zeus. demeter was the god of agriculture and zeus, of course, was the god of all gods. the god of the sky, the god of thunder. yeah?” you nodded, listening, wanting him to continue.

“well one day, persephone was picking flowers. out in this open meadow, she was picking flowers.” he was talking animatedly with his hands, seemingly passionate about the topic. “and hades, who had always been a cold and withdrawn sort of man, saw persephone. and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. it was love at first sight. he had never felt that way about anyone, ever. and he knew he had to have her. so… he took her.”

he looked at you then, and your mouth went dry. what was he trying to say?

“he took her and he brought her to the underworld where he held her captive. and she was scared at first, she locked herself in her room and refused to eat. she knew that if you eat any food from the underworld that you would never be allowed to return to the land of the living. but after a week, she could no longer take her hunger and she ate some pomegranate seeds.” he looked at you, to make sure you were still listening, and you were. you wondered where he was going with this random greek mythology lesson.

“while she was gone in the underworld, demeter and zeus were pissed. obviously. because their daughter had been kidnapped. so demeter refused to let the crops grow and the people went hungry.” he smiled at you, sensing your confusion. “i’m getting there, i promise. stay with me.” he chuckled.

“so zeus sent hermes to talk to hades and make a deal. the people needed to eat and demeter wasn’t letting up until she had her daughter back. but because persephone ate the seeds, she couldn’t leave. but hermes came up with a deal that persephone would go back to the land of the living for six months out of the year and then she would spend the other six months in the underworld with hades. so when persephone was on earth, that’s when the crops and the flowers would bloom and when she would be in the underworld, that’s when the earth would grow cold. so that’s how the greeks explained the seasons and whatnot. yeah?”

you nodded, even more lost now than you were when he started.

“hades loved persephone. he loved her so deeply. and when she was in the underworld with him, she was his queen. he treated her so well, took care of her, practically worshipped her. and she grew to love him. and when she would have to go to earth for half of the year, they would miss each other terribly. but when they finally came back together, their reunions were passionate.”

he was quiet. seemingly having finished his story, but you had no answers.

“i— im confused.” you said.

“it’s just a story, but it’s crazy how things can come true.” he said, his gaze growing more intense. and suddenly the air in the car felt thick. like you would have trouble moving if you tried.

“what do you mean, come true?” you asked. “are you saying you’re hades?”

“i am like him in many ways, yes.” he said. “you probably wouldn’t believe me if i told you i really was from the underworld.”

you scoffed. “you would probably be right.”

he smiled. “that’s okay. you will learn the truth.”

“are you saying that you’re hades himself?”

he shook his head. “i am a demon. i come from the underworld but i do not live there permanently.”

he wanted to take your hand in this moment. wanted to look deep into your eyes when he told you this. but he didn’t want to scare you further. that wasn’t the point of this. so instead, he kept his hands to himself and tried his best to look at you, to really portray this message to you.

“it’s just a myth. hades isn’t real.” he said softly. “but i am. and you.. you’re my persephone.”

🏷️: @httpdwaekki

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[poppitron360]

Hii! Can I ask for some of your more lighthearted (as in not too angsty) Leo Valdez headcanons?

1. CANNOT SIT ON A CHAIR PROPERLY

FOR THE LIFE OF HIM. YOU COULD POINT A GUN TO HIS HEAD AND HE STILL COULDN’T DO IT.

I NEED MORE FANART OF THIS PLEASE

2. Can in theory breathe fire but doesn’t bc it gives him a really bad sore throat.

3. Still reading TOA- I just found out that Leo’s full name is “Leonidas” (either that or it’s a nickname Calypso gave him, but the fandom seem to agree that it’s his real name) but he HATES it when Calypso calls him that, so my hc is ANNABETH is the ONLY one with “Leonidas” privileges. And that’s bc he’s so fucking terrified of her he doesn’t DARE appose her on it. I feel like she does use it respectfully though.

Hazel is also allowed to use it sparingly.

4. Oh yeah fuck canon Leo and Annabeth are besties and they bond over both being runaways and also engineering/architecture stuff. Leo’s DEFINITELY had a peek around Daedalus’ laptop- his design for an automaton that can house a human soul got him thinking about his mom. He always planned on maybe taking a closer look at those files but then the laptop got lost in Tartar Sauce. I know you said no angst. Whoops.

5. Leo and Hazel start a support group for demigods who have come back from the dead. Every Wednesday in New Rome. Biscuits and Orange Juice will be provided. They call themselves the “YOLTers” (You Only Live Twice- because YOLO is for the weak). Thalia is also a frequent attendee.

6. I hc him as hard of hearing after the explosion in Blood of Olympus. Specifically deaf in his right ear and chronic tinnitus in his left. He uses hearing aids sometimes and also uses ASL and Morse Code to communicate. I choose to view that as wholesome bc we need more disability representation.

7. He is a “Leonidas” ONLY at Starbucks. He then follows it up with a bunch of equally hard-to-pronounce middle names (which he completely made up) said in a rapid-fire Spanish accent and watches the Barista panic as her white ass tries to spell it all. It’s even funnier when she tries to say it back to him when giving him his order. He takes the cup (leaves a generous tip) and says “but usually I just go by Leo” and walks away.

That is pretty much my entire understanding of American culture right there-

8. Trains autistic. He loves them. In the one I’m currently reading- The Dark Prophecy- Calypso and Apollo go on a train without Leo and I’m just imagining them getting back and him being “But what kind of train was it? Standard gauge or narrow gauge? Man, I love narrow gauge trains. Did you know that there’s this place in Wales called the Ffestiniog railway, where they have this special type of locomotive where the engine- the sicky-outy bit- is like, either side of the locomotive, so that there’s no need for a turntable-“

Okay I might also love narrow gauge trains (I’ve been on the Ffestiniog railway, it is amazing) (Also that is not a typo, in Welsh I believe the double f makes a soft sound (like in “off”) and a single f makes a hard sound, more like a v (like in “of”) you learn a new thing every day!)

9. Ambidextrous but Left-hand dominant (Often has to specify to his tool belt that he needs left-handed tools)

10. When speaking will put weird pauses in the middle of a sentence and not stop between sentences like talkingreallyfastwhenhe’sreally exited and talking slowly when he’s tiredit’skindaweird and choppy like hisbrainisgoing a million times faster than hismouth.

11. His favourite Disney film is Frozen.

12. When he’s comfortable around you, you start to hear more of his hispanic accent.

13. Said it before, will say it again. Headcannon no. 13 is ALWAYS WITHOUT FAIL “They’re a Swiftie.”

He has to listen to music as a way of not being alone with his thoughts. I discovered Taylor at a young age, and she has remained one of the few consistencies in my life since then. She got me through some tough times (Not as bad as Leo, but she helped me survive 2020). I feel like Leo would be the same- not always knowing where he’ll be sleeping that night or if food will be on the table, he’d want comfort, stability. Taylor would be there.

14. He wakes Frank up at 3am with “Hey I can’t read that what does that say?” “…Leo you wrote this. You’re telling me you can’t read your own writing?” Little does Leo know that Percy came in with exactly the same request half an hour before. Frank is finding being the only non-dyslexic on the ship incredibly frustrating.

15. Has the philosophy “anything is a fidget toy if you fidget with it” and STICKS to it

16. If Piper sees an item of clothing with an ungodsly amount of pockets, she is contractually obligated to buy it for him.

17. Eats cheese straight off the block. Like doesn’t even bother cutting it, he just *noms* straight into the block of cheese like it’s a chocolate bar. Similarly also eats Nutella straight outta the jar, sometimes without even using a spoon (and y’all know he doesn’t wash his hands).

18. Slightly more immune to electric shocks than normal bc of his way with machines (Valgrace nation do with that what you will)- similar to how Percy, as seen in botl, is a little bit fireproof.

19. You can’t tell me that during his first quest with Jason and Piper, they didn’t at least once triple-spoon with Leo in the middle bc he’s warmest.

20. In fact, “Cuddle Leo” is a common pastime for Jasiper. Particularly when it’s cold.

21. HE. CAN. SEW.

I saw a lot of people hc that Leo makes Percabeth’s wedding rings but that is factually incorrect. TYSON makes the ring. LEO makes Annabeth’s dress. I just started this fic where Annabeth, Piper, Leo, Reyna, and Rachel all go wedding dress shopping for Leo to get ideas, but he makes absolutely the most BEAUTIFUL gown for her- much better than any store. It puts all other wedding dresses to shame.

22. He can also knit, crochet (This hc was supplied by my mum who I’ve forced to read Heroes of Olympus), weave, and do macramé. He’s gone down rabbit holes about old-fashioned lacemaking. Him and Annabeth have sewing/crafting competitions at camp and on the Argo.

23. Autistic hand-flappy stim

24. He watches Stand-Up Comedy specials with Jason. I feel like if he wasn’t a mechanic he’d be a comedian (or run a taco truck, like Jason suggested in TLH). He takes his friends to as many comedy shows as he can. He loves them.

25. A Valgrace hc but it relates- while I was thinking up ways for Leo/Jason to propose (just a regular day in my brain), I had an idea for Leo to take Jason to one of those comedy shows that does crowd-work, and sits in the front row to get their attention. When the comedian asks who they are, Leo introduces Jason as his fiancé. When Jason goes, “Wait, no I’m not!” Leo yells “WELL WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE?” And gets down on one knee.

Also, sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I’ve had this saved to my drafts and I’ve been slowly adding to it every time I get a new headcanon.

[teaboot]

Your post about art vs content got me thinking about the differences between the two. To me there is no difference besides the mindsets. One is of creator and the enjoyer, the other is content and consumer it removes the personhood, the joy/emotion, from the equation. Like a writer or video creator may not see their work as art so content creator maybe a way to refer to themselves comfortably but it sounds so machine, emotionless and lifeless, like a cookie cutter recipe mass producing something verses people lovingly crafting something...then again Disney uses a cookie cutter recipe for the most part and it brings out bangers cause people lovingly make it their own so maybe I'm thinking too hard on this

Does my long-winded rant make sense?

see, I get what you mean, but I still feel like the willingness to entertain calling art of any kind "content" reduces it to the facet of consumption where in reality, the experience of consuming art is not the sole defining trait of it.

Reducing arts like music, writing, painting, dance, voice acting, theater, etc. to the role of "content"- a thing created to be consumed, measured and valued by how pleasant or easy it is to digest- I feel that it was our biggest red flag to herald the incoming tide of AI "art".

Because if art is "content", if arts are nothing but consumable matter, then obviously the key to success is to produce as much soft, tasty, edible paste as we possibly can at the lowest possible expense.

It's the same issue I have with "meal replacements", diet culture, nutrient slurries, twenty-step skincare routines, 24/7 body padding and shapewear and laxative teas and "grind culture". It's not a cause, but a symptom, of the disease that is late-stage capitalism.

Things must be produced at low cost and remain in high demand forever. Things must be perfect and palatable and the new hit trend forever. People must pay hand over fist to consume without asking anything in return, and if they start dropping like flies at the unending unrewarded thankless demand of it all, then that must be treated as a weakness. We should all take pride in how much we can spend, pay, give, produce, and think as little as possible about what we ask for ourselves.

So, who cares if, of two identical paintings, one was made by a person and one was made by a computer program? It's the same work, so what does it matter? What does it matter?

I am an artist. I make art. I ask a question, make a statement, declare something horrific or challenging or upsetting or wrong or grotesque, and when you respond, we are together experiencing a conversation. We are existing, two people living one life and reaching out and touching across time and space. No matter the work, you're at the barest minimum saying, "I'm alive, and you're alive, and at one time or another we shared this same world, and at the end of the day we aren't too terribly different. My heart is worth sharing, and your heart is worth the struggle of understanding."

An AI-generated piece, a computer-generated voice, a CGI puppet of someone long since dead and gone, they cannot speak. They have no voice. Ay best, they are the most chewable, consumable, landlord-beige common denominator possible that you can sit and listen to like the lone survivor of a shipwreck listening to the same three songs on a broken record, and at worst, they're the uncaring vomit of an empty, unloving, value-addled hack wearing the skin of someone I know over their own.

When you abandon art to say that you make content, that should not be a point of pride. That's an embarrassment. That's not sitting down for an intelligent discussion with an equal, that's kneeling at the feet of the crowd and saying, "what do you want to see me do? I can be anyone you've ever loved. I can be them, I can be anyone, as long as you love me."

I can make content. I can be consumed. What do you want to consume? I'll make myself consumable. I'll make myself just like anything you like. And I'll make so much of it that you'll never have to go anywhere else, because it'll all be right here, and under all the cut-and-paste schlock you've seen before I will sit alone in the dark and the silence and I will know that I am safe, because I am valued, because I am desired, and I need to be desired or else I am worthless like a factory that no longer churns out steel or a hen that no longer lays eggs or a cow that is too old to make milk.

Content, the most literal meaning, is something which is contained inside a container. What it is doesn't really matter, and the best it can hope to be is something worthy of being scooped out and used.

Art is an experience that transcends value. Art is something you can eat without paying for. You can make it out of anything and anyone can do it. It can be crude and vulgar and bad, and that's a strength because it means something. It always, always means something, and it doesn't matter if you like it or not. It's not content because it doesn't fill anything. It's a living, breathing thing, and whether you want to birth it or eat it, then you're going to have to be willing to put the fucking work in

[hearts4kaulitz]

“ REPTILLIA “

sfw modern bill hcs.

he most DEFINITELY does yoga and if you ask you two and try and do those poses together 😭

bill ended up falling ontop of you so you made that “eugh” sound and you and him ended up laughing ur ASSES off cause of it.

shopping w him is like taking a toddler to disney. this mf picks up EVERY SINGLE ITEM.

he will literally jump if he sees something you like.

“ name! name! look, its that brand you like!”

he takes forever in dressing rooms. he would send you and the rest of the band a picture of him doing a duck face in the outfit.

he definitely captions it “you like? 😘”

also he RAIDS the skincare aisle. he clears them shelves.

he has a hard time picking out the products he wants so he makes you do it for him.

“this one gives my skin a glow but THIS one actually protects it but makes it really oily…” (hes so real 4 that)

i feel like if you celebrated christmas yall would watch home alone RELIGIOUSLY but if you followed a different tradition he’d love to watch you or even participate!

also he has alot of hair products. i just know it

sometimes after hard days he’ll ask you to message his like hair cause it helps with his stress

also speaking of stress and stuff he’s definitely someone you could come to about your problems.

hes been through ALOT so he really would understand and if he didnt he would see where you come from. hes a great listener.

aside from that he loves when you play with his jewelry and stuff.

absolutely ADORES when you tug on his necklaces or chokers to get his attention. (it turns him on)

hi guys… im in a hotel rn and i felt like writing so heres a lil sum sum 🥰 PLSPSLSPLS send requests cause im literally dying here .

[cera-writes]

What do you think about a Cyclops x reader oneshot/headcanons where the reader has very sensible ears. On some days in manageable, but often it just gets too much for the reader and Cyclops tries his best to comfort? I've been listening to the Disney Characters as Villains Songs and "Rules the Quit" just feels like a Villain origin Story for a mutant XD

[ https://youtu.be/yHLIuRGjoY8?si=t1FVMLr7qCXOrMDo. This is the link if you'd like to listen, however this doesn't have any ties to the request. Just thought you'd be interested in the train of thoughts ]

This was a fun request to do! I can hint that song into a oneshot no problem! Thanks for the request! Tags: just sweet fluff, Scott taking care of reader Pairing: Scott Summers x gn!Reader

"Silence is Golden."

The Danger Room roared with the simulated sounds of battle. You flinched, hand instinctively reaching for your ear. Scott, mid-optic blast, saw your movement and cursed under his breath.

"Cut!" he yelled, the room falling silent. He rushed to your side, the concern etched on his face a familiar sight.

"Hey," he said softly, "Let's get you out of here."

You offered a weak smile. "Thanks, Scott. Today's one of those days, huh?"

He helped you out of the room, shielding your ears from the echoing shouts of the other trainees. Back in his quarters, he brewed calming tea and dimmed the lights.

"Going villainous on us today?" he joked, handing you a steaming mug.

You chuckled, the familiar Disney villain mashup playing in your head. "Almost. That 'Rule the Quite' song just hits differently when your ears feel like they're about to explode."

"Maybe Professor X should consider a sensory deprivation room in the Danger Room," Scott mused, sitting beside you.

You leaned against his shoulder, the quiet comfort warming you more than the tea. "Maybe," you agreed, taking a sip. "But for now, your silence and this tea are all the therapy I need."

He smiled, his visor tilting down slightly. "Always happy to be your quiet haven, (Y/N)," he said, wrapping his arm around you.

The room was silent, with only the soft hum of the vents for company. It was a different kind of peace than the X-Men usually enjoyed, but for you, it was perfect. And in the quiet, a different kind of love story unfolded, one built on understanding and the shared language of a quiet embrace.