#looking back at important points with the wisdom of age

[lacebird]

man.... thinking about an older anakin... as a force ghost... and having this deep and emotional shakespearean monologue about his life...

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Is there an age limit? Part 2

“For me?” The annoying red-clad giant of a man who was all sunshine and diabetes-inducing puppies bounced around. He played with the communicator Batman handed to him as if it were a shiny new toy.

“I can’t believe I’m in the Justice League!” The Herculean man-child squealed, grinning like an imbecile. “Somebody, kick me. Show me I’m not dreaming!” 

Guy Gardner was too happy to oblige. 

“My pleasure.”

His signature kick - a brutal, no-holds-barred move - would send a seasoned fighter flying across the floor. Guy delivered one of his specialties to Captain Whitebread.

Crack!

“My leg!” 

Agony ripped from his foot, up his leg, as he felt his bones shatter upon impact with that brick wall of a man.

“I broke my leg!” He hopped to the nearest seat, clutching his foot, hoping to earn sympathy points with Ice. 

The cold beauty looked away.

Instead, the Big Red Cheese hovered towards him.

“I’m so sorry.” The overgrown baby - who was made of concrete - had the audacity to offer him a hand. 

“Can I help you?”

“Nah, Guy’s just being Guy,” Hal pulled Justice League’s newest recruit away. “You must see our recreation rooms!”

Superman, one of the Big Three, intercepted them. 

“Wait, Cap,” he dangled a set of keys in front of Captain Whitebread. 

“You get the room beside mine,” Superman grinned as the big blue boy scout wrapped his arm around the cheesy red boy scout. 

He behaved as if Cap was his twin brother. “I’ll show you your private quarters!”

Guy’s jaw dropped as he turned as green as his ring.

While every member of the Justice League had a private room in the Watchtower, a cluster of four rooms were considered prime estate. Three of the four prestigious rooms were taken by the Big Three - Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. 

Captain Whitebread gets the fourth? 

It is as good as telling the hero community that the dolt is one of the Big Four.

Guy knew he deserved that honour far more than that joke of a hero.

 *

“Holy Moley!” Captain Marvel’s gawked at his private quarters. “Is this for me?”

“All yours,” Superman grinned, spreading out his arms. 

His fellow Kryptonian’s childlike wonder was a welcome change from the jaded cynicism, or even worse, the self-important grandeur of some heroes.

“Can this room handle lightning strikes?” Captain Marvel ran his hand over a wall.

“Well,” Superman rock on the back of his heels. 

“We are in space, so there is no lightning out here. But it can withstand intense heat, radiation, corrosive environments and physical stress, so I’d imagine it can handle a regular thunderstorm.”

Marvel frowned, in thought. “Can it handle over a billion volts at more than 30,000 degrees Celsius?”

“I’m not sure if anything can handle that,” Superman replied.

“May not be an issue if….” Captain Marvel’s face lit up with a dazzling grin. 

“Never mind. I know what to do.” He chuckled. 

“Wisdom of Solomon,” he tapped his head.

Cap’s eyes bugged out at the fully stocked mini-fridge and pantry. He picked up a can of beer. “I’m sure you must be a certain age to drink these,” he frowned.

Superman wasn’t a fan of alcohol either. It had no effect on his Kryptonian physiology. He didn’t fancy the taste. 

“I don’t like beer or alcohol either. It might be a Kryptonian thing,” he beamed, more certain than ever that he was no longer the last of his kind. “I had mine swapped for milk,” he grinned. “I can arrange that for you too.”

“That would be cool!” Cap looked delighted. “Can I have chocolate milk?”

Cap behaved like a kid let loose in a toy shop as Superman showed him the room’s features.

“The bed and walls are reinforced, but cannot withstand our strength, if you toss and turn in your sleep,” Superman warned. “Do you sleepwalk?”

“No,” Cap pursed his lips. “I’ll power down before bed so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Power down? Does Marvel have portable red sun lamps? 

That’s a brilliant idea he could adopt.”

For the rest of the morning, Superman had the pleasure of showing his new brother the rest of the Watchtower.

“Superman, this place is awesome!” Cap remarked

“Call me Kal,” Superman replied. 

“Okay Kal. You were saying you have Polar Bears in your Fortress of Solitude. Can I play with them?” Marvel pleaded with large, puppy eyes.

“Sure, Will-em,” Kal replied. 

Cap cringed. “I rather you call me Billy. William sounds so… old.”

“Bill, then?” Kal asked.

“Bill is good,” Billy replied.

Marvel prefers his civilian Earth name. 

He probably was raised on Earth too.

So civilian Earth name it is.

“Then call me Clark.”

Bill preferred flying to using the zeta tubes. He had a point. One can never tire of the magnificent view, flying on your power from the space station to earth.

“You keep your key where everyone can see?” Bill’s eyes widened at the large golden key outside Superman’s ice fortress.

“It’s made of dwarf star material and weighs millions of tons,” Clark smirked. “It’s not like anyone can pick it up and let themselves in.” He fitted the massive key into the keyhole.

“I bet I can,” Bill smirked. 

“Kryptonians can,” Clark replied. “But we’re almost extinct.” He handed the key to Marvel, who returned it to its place where it doubled up as an aircraft navigation marker.

“Holy Moley!” Bill’s jaw dropped lower as they walked into the fortress. “Are those your parents?” He pointed up at the statues Kal had created in memory of his birth parents.

“Yes. Jor-el and Lara Lor-Van,” Clark replied. “I was a baby when they sent me away. I don’t remember anything about them.”

“Oh,” Bill squeezed Clark’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay.” Clark assured him. “Ma and Pa Kent took me in when I landed on earth as a baby. They raised me as their own son.”

“That’s cool. I don’t have parents. I lost mine when I was five,” Bill’s eyes glistened with tears. 

“I can still remember them, though the memories are getting fuzzy.”He dropped his smile.

“You can always visit me and my family at the farm,” Superman patted his back.

“Farm?” Cap’s eyes widened. “You grew up in a farm?”

“Raised there. My folks live there,” he chuckled as he led Bill through the fortress' many chambers. “Talking about families, there’s a polar bear family I want you to meet.”

He opened a door that led into a natural cave just outside the Fortress of Solitude.

“My neighbours,” Clark gestured at a family of polar bears. 

The father and mother bears nodded at the men and chuffed their greeting.

Bill chuffed back. 

Then he whimpered like a playful bear cub.

Curious cubs approached Cap with their heads up and ears forward.

The biggest baby bear swatted the air in a playful mock attack. 

Captain Marvel pawed back as younger cubs rolled around. 

Their mother walked slowly towards Cap, and sniffed at him. 

The babies followed suit. 

Between the cuffs, whines and whimpers, the bears seemed to be having some sort of conversation with the man.

“Do you understand what they are saying?” Clark walked up to them, getting a growl in response.

“Oh sorry,” Bill replied. “I keep forgetting we aren’t speaking English.”

“Huh?” Clark frowned. Confused.

“Sasha here was telling me about your noisy machines driving their fish away,” Bill added. “She asks you to be a good neighbour and keep the noise down.”

Apparently, the mother bear was Sasha, the father bear was Phil.

“I’m hardly here,” Clark replied.

Bill chuffed at the mother bear, getting a series of growls in return.

“She says, you may not be here, but your machines still make too much noise. These two days, the sounds are more frequent and worse,” Bill explained.

Sasha chuffed some more.

“Then there are the newcomers in shiny suits that came through this week,” translated Bill.

“That’s not possible,” Clark had a nagging feeling something was wrong.

Phil roared. 

Sasha herded the cubs away.

“They are coming again. The bears smell them,” Clark translated for Bill. 

“Sasha is asking you to tell your guests to be more considerate.”

“What guests?” 

A sudden pain stabbed through Clark’s entire body. 

Kryptonite.

He searched for the source, but his super-vision failed him. A wave of dizziness hit him. Hard.

“Are you okay, Clark,” Bill caught him before he hit the ground.

“Kryptonite,” his vision turned blurry as an armoured figure bearing a large chunk of Kryptonite stalked past the bears, towards him.

“I got this.” 

Bill’s voice was the last thing Clark heard before he blacked out.

*

“Batman! Superman’s poisoned!” Captain Marvel strode into the Watchtower carrying a limp, green-faced Superman.

“What happened?” Batman led Marvel to The Infirmary.

“Kryptonite bomb exploded in our faces,” Marvel grimaced. “Shards of Green K pierced his skin. I removed as much as I could but I don’t have X-ray vision, but I think he breathed particles of Kryptonite, so can you check his lungs?”

“Hmmph,” Batman scrutinised Marvel. “Why aren’t you affected?”

“Kryptonite doesn’t bother me,” Marvel replied. “We were attacked in the Arctic. Who do I hand the culprits over to?”

“Bring them here for interrogation,” Batman replied. If these guys infiltrated Superman’s fortress, he wanted to find out more. “Local authorities don’t have the facilities or security to store technology that is advanced enough to take down Superman. Bring everything here for safekeeping.”

“Yes, sir!” Marvel did a chipper salute and disappeared in a red blur.

So, Captain Marvel is immune to Kryptonite. He doesn’t have X-ray vision either. The man is clearly not a Kryptonian.

As he applied the ultrasonic vibratory device to Superman’s chest to loosen the kryptonite particles in his lungs, Batman pondered on the new information that Marvel had revealed about himself.  

Marvel may not be a Kryptonian, but he could be a Daxamite. 

These are descendants of Kryptonians who left Krypton to explore space. They have the same powers as Kryptonians but do not have x-ray vision. 

Although they are not affected by Kryptonite, Daxamites have a fatal sensitivity to lead.

Batman set up the portable lung lavage system to wash out Superman’s lungs. 

Then he headed to his private quarters where he kept his contingencies against every member of the Justice League.

He removed the Kryptonite from Marvel’s box and replaced it with lead bullets. 

[huellitaa]

₊˚⊹♡ education is hot!

education is literally the most valuable thing in life. please please PLEASE take advantage of that. self concept is important, good looks are important, happiness is important, health is important, but without education we wouldn't even know what any of that even means. ♡

having knowledge makes you magnetic. when you're smart, people will look up to you. and if people look up to you, it means they think about you, they admire you, and you have an influence on them.

life is knowledge. the more you learn, the more you are. knowledge is the fundamental basics to life. nothing is the root of everything but we wouldn't even know what nothing is without education. we wouldn't have language, we wouldn't have concepts, we wouldn't have technology, we wouldn't have the screen you're reading this on. we wouldn't have tumblr 😨

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 1. noting down ur findings

the smartest people ALWAYS note down what they learn, whether it be big or small. if you have lots of knowledge and / or the memory capacity of a goldfish then naturally you may not always remember what you learn. keeping it noted down in any preferably easily accessible format of your choice is so helpful and a very smart choice if you want to be an Intellectual™. notebook, sketchbook, binder, google docs, notion pages, tumblr posts, notes app, anything you like !!!!! just keep it noted down !!!! ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀2. utilising ur resources!!!!

so many people i know and millions of people throughout the world suffer with a crippling addiction to their phones, but what are you actually doing on said phone? you spend ages on your phone, your tablet, your laptop, reading, writing, playing video games, and so on, but even then, are you genuinely learning? are you taking the time to absorb the knowledge placed before you or are you skimming through it all in a mindless cycle of media consumption?

think about how you can utilise the things around you to learn. for example, make all that time spent on your devices useful. research, study, learn in your free time. knowledge is abundance. you can use your local library, your local bookshops, ur school or ur college or ur workplace just to find out more about your surroundings and about the world. it is so much more valuable thank you'd think.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 3. wisdom

wisdom is the highest form of knowledge. to learn is to live so living is the only way you're going to truly learn, if that makes sense. therefore, by using this direct method, you gain the highest manner of knowledge; wisdom. wisdom is not being book smart or knowing how to solve equations or write essays but wisdom is genuine, pure, raw, life experience and life lessons, which, surprise surprise, can only be gained through experience and living your life. go out, try things, get out of your comfort zone, get comfy being uncomfy. you got this. ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 4. social interaction

"nerds dont know how to socialise!!!" okay so maybe i adhere to this stereotype sometimes but social interaction is, however unfortunate it may be, a key part of being intellectual and having genuine knowledge. going back to wisdom and learning through experience, speaking with and networking with and sparking connections with others is a vital way to be educated and informed and cultured along with enhancing your social skills, because we need to know how to interact with others, too. if we can't spread said knowledge through connections and socialising so it can be passed down for hundreds of thousands for years to come then there is no point in learning at all because it'll have no use in the long run.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 5. media consumption

feed ur brain. i cannot stress this enough. read books, fiction or non fiction. i know you've heard this a million times but it's true. read just a random article of interest every day to get your brain working. learn a new word every day, read news reports, letters, interesting blogs, articles, websites, do puzzles, crosswords, wordsearches, memory games, listen to podcasts, audiobooks, watch documentaries, youtube videos, interviews, ted talks, video essays, EXERCISE UR BRAIN

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 6. insights, emotional intelligence and empathy

as i've said before, and i'll reiterate again, knowledge extends beyond simply having book smarts and knowing how to work with letters and numbers. the most powerful method of communication amongst humans is emotion, and being well versed in how to read, understand and communicate said language is only learnt through real life experience and observation of real life experiences where the use of emotional intelligence and empathy come into play. analyse these experiences and note down everything

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 7. question ur sources and BE BOLD

one thing i was taught ever since i was little is that when ur online you need to be veeeery careful with all the information you get fed because there are lots of people out there, esp on the internet, with lots of different intentions and lots of different facts, even if they have good intentions and don't mean to mislead you. always double check whatever ur told with someone you know or on another website or two or a physical yet reliable source if you have one to hand, and cite your own opinions too. you get to choose what does and doesn't get to enter your mind. your mind and your knowledge is yours entirely and only yours to be tampered with and adjusted in any way you'd like.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 things 2 study and be generally educated on:

social etiquette and politeness

countries and their respective laws, cultures, landmarks etc.

history of your own family and ancestry

languages you're interested in and basic phrases in several languages

information about your dream and / or current career

finances and how to manage your money

business, networking and persuasion

pet psychology and how to take care of them

capital cities and basics about places around the world, esp if you plan on going travelling

something beautiful about knowledge is that you'll never run out of it and it can never be taken away from you. people can take anything from you, but never your intelligence. ♡

all my love! 💖✨💘💗🎀💓

[alexlwrites]

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭

Namjoon x Reader

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: Just a silly little thought

°•. ✿ .•°

“Yourethpretty” the guy with the open mouth and wide crossed eyes said beneath the harsh lights in your office. 

“Thank you” you laughed, watching the anesthesia kick and his consciousness fade. Jungkook, your patient, had been worried about getting his wisdom teeth removed, but you had assured him that the procedure was quick and mostly painless, if a bit uncomfortable.

And quick it was. Soon enough Jungkook was stirring and coming back to his normal self.

Well, almost. 

“Yourethpretty” he repeated in a slurred manner and you thanked him again kindly “You know, my dad isth single.”

“Really?”

“Yesth” his voice was solemn as if discussing a matter of great importance “I think you should take him outh.”

At this point, you were having a hard time holding back your giggles “Based on your age, he might be a bit too old for me.”

“No!” he exclaimed, exasperated, almost knocking your tools “Not my dad, dad. Like, my work dad.”

“Your…Work dad?”

“He actsth like he doesn’t want a girlfriend but now that Hyung isth engaged, I can see…” his eyes went cross again and it didn’t seem like he could actually see anything really “He’s lonely” he whispered at last. “So I’m trying to find him someone and you’re really pretty.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“So… Will you go out with him?”

“Jungkook…”

“He’sth tall” he continued, set on selling you on the idea of becoming his… Work step mother, you supposed “big dude. Big man titties.”

“Jungkook!”

“And he readsth! Poetry! He’sth a feminist!”

“Jungkook…”

“He’sth clumsy because he’sth gangly like one of those gasth station inflatable tube man that goes SWOOSH!” 

At this point, you were actively holding down your patient, but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t intrigued. Your last few dates had been nothing but a bust, ending with you jumping through the italian place’s window to hide in your bed and rewatch Ocean’s Eight and hold back a sob, so the idea of a tall, muscular man that read poetry caught your ears.

Alas, Jungkook was still flopping around under you and that demanded that immediate attention. “Jungkook!” you called, trying to hold the much stronger man down as he very avidly replicated the contemporary dance moves of a wacky waving tube man. “Jungkook, please stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself… Ok, ok! If you stop moving, I’ll go out with your dad.”

“He’s too old for you!

“Your work dad!”

Jungkook froze. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Jungkook” someone called from outside before the door opened, revealing a tall man with shaved hair on the sides and a shirt stretching dangerously across his pecs. “Sorry, the secretary said I could come in. I’m Namjoon, I’m here to take him home.”

You shared a look with Jungkook, who wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, drool still coming out of his half open mouth. 

“Yeah, you can hold me to that.” you whispered.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Meet Idris....

⇰ Full Name - Idris Alinia Moore

○ Someone named Idris is known for being someone with high intelligence, and also have wisdom, trustworthy and patient.

○ Idris' shows her patience most when it comes to her family, especially her children and Jack. Despite everything that happens with Jack some claim that she was too patient at times with Jack when things were hard.

○ Alinia means bright, beautiful and light.

○ Idris is known as someone who has a very bright personality similar to Jack she can easily light up a room when she walks in. She is also very confident, despite being on the curvy side she always dressed with confidence and no one can deny she is beautiful.

○ Common everyday nickname is Iddy. Jack use to always call her Idz but he's the only one who calls her that and it makes her heart skip a beat everytime he uses it.

⇰ Iddy's Style/ How I picture her:

(this is how I PICTURE Idris, if you choose to want to believe that you are Idris in this AU that's fine too.)

⇰ Birthday - January 15, 2000

○ Yes she is older than Jack, he finds it hot that she's older than him. Which every time he does mention it she gives him a very 'deadpan' look because she is barely a year older.

○ She is a classic Capricorn stubborn, laid back (even though she can light up a room, she rather be in the background), hardworking, very independent, responsible and ambitious.

⇰ Important Facts:

○ She was actually born in Boston.

○ Both of Iddy's parents are professors and researchers. But when her parents ultimately spilt when she was in middle school. Her mom decided to take a job as a professor with UMich.

○ Her parents weren't a happy couple and put her in the middle a lot. They also didn't do a good job at co-parenting when they did finally spilt. Her biggest fear is becoming her mom a single mom and ultimately that comes true at some point.

○ Due to moving to Ann Arbor at a semi young age she refers to it as home, (even the first time she meets Jack.) but Idris is ultimately a classic city girl.

○ Iddy when growing up went through different sports even at one point trying soccer. But she ended up falling more in love with dance and the arts than anything else.

○ Idris was a contemporary dancer and ballerina until around her senior year of high school she broke her ankle. Even after it healed, she was never really at the same level she was prior to breaking and ultimately decided she was done.

○ Even though she could of gone to UMich for free due to her mother or even Boston University where her father was a professor. Both of her parents knew she didn't want that. They were very respectful in letting her decide where she wanted to go to college.

○ Due to always being a city girl, it wasn't a shock to anyone that she landed at NYU. She had a double major in art history and communications. Along with a minor in art therapy.

○ When she graduated in May 2022 she was already 6 months pregnant. (My favorite fact of the day she Jack begging her not to wear heels because of her swollen ankles. He is literally glued to her side as much as possible. He even holds his breath and squeezes Quinn's hand when she's walking across the stage.)

○ Her minor in art therapy although she never uses it professionally does help her with both Zander and Zola.

○ Although she has friends from college, getting pregnant your senior year doesn't make you the most social butterfly. So she starts to withdrawl and focus on graduating and building a life with Jack.

○ Due to that her besties are her little sister Ava (they are ride or dies and always have been), and Quinn.

○ Quinn and Idris met that first summer after she met Jack when she came up for July 4th. Something just clicked immediately and they have been besties since. Jack was actually really scared he lost his chance of staying friends with benefits when he saw how Idris and Quinn were with each other. But they are just phonetic soulmates.

○ Quinn and Ava at some point met and also became good friends. So they all have a group chat together that they text in daily. Quinn and Ava are the first people to know what's going on besides Luke who is physically in the apartment with Jack and Idris.

○ Idris after graduating works as a consult for a company that owns multiple of the smaller art galleries over the city. She helps bring new artists in to sign with the galleries. But her main job is to be a middle person between clients that want a piece of art and the artist. She helps not only find the art her client wants but makes sure she's able to secure the deal.

○ Idris is extremely involved in the Devils fundraiser organizations. Specifically she mostly helps organizes events such as getting canned goods for their Gift of Giving Foundation etc. But she is heavily involved in helping plan hospital visits and always gets the company she works for to donate art supplies to patients because she believes art is a way that everyone can process emotions. She is also heavily involved in Devils Youth Foundation.

○ Even when they are seperated she doesn't stop supporting those charities even though most of the people within the organizations expected her to. She also known to help extend a hand to Quinn with his charity work for firefighters and she is really passionate about the Canucks Autism Program.

○ Idris' relationship with the other WAGs is a little complex. The way she became a WAG in general is controversial since she literally got pregnant and then all of a sudden she was living with Jack a couple months later.

○ The other WAGs do fall in love her bright and funny personality. She ends being 'that wag' with her style and all her help with the Devils Organization. Due to this she ends up planning a lot of WAG events and she thinks she's gaining a good group of friends.

○ When Idris and Jack's relationship starts falling apart and she stops planning events, she is still included in events but she's struggling with depression so she doesn't go. By the time she asks Jack for a break, none of the wags really talk to her.

○ When Jack and Idris do eventually get back together, she doesn't really want to be apart of the wags or associated with them. Of course gossip accounts on Twitter have a lot to say about this. But ultimately the public sides with Iddy sort of surprisingly.

○ Think Kylie Kelce energy when thinking of Idris. She is just known for being such a real person and kind with all her chairity work. So no one blames her for not wanting to be involved with the 'influencer wags.'

⇰ Iddy's Instagram:

[weepingtalecowboy]

Legend as echoes of wisdom link lol but confusing

Fanfic prompt : after Linked universe he decided to go visit Nayru and the other oracles again and then seeing the harp of ages

Realized how he can help Hyrule

Because if the harp can let him travel back several centuries then why not go forward

Because that way he can stop ganon from being revived and Hyrule can maybe travel back with him

He and then travels forward in time and then tries to orientate himself about where the hell he even is… then he sees the riffs through time and assumes that dark link has to learn his lesson again and goes in

He doesn’t appreciate the void for taking his voice… he kind of needs it to figure out where the heck Hyrule is because this one certainly looks too colorful to be the same one Hyrule is from… at least not in the next decades or so

Forests still need to grow after all but good for him that he succeeded eventually

Then he meets lueberry and they figure something out to go create the sword out off the crystal Legend dragged out of ,… hell he supposes

The cloak is cool though

So legend goes beefing with the random copies… so unoriginal of dink to go around and summon even more black blooded monsters or something

Well at least he now has the ability to use gps to find out where the next portal appears

And at some point finds out this Hyrule's Zelda is kidnapped and it sucks but maybe a new link will spawn or something

Then he and ganon get to beef ,,and surprisingly ganon remembers him (talking about the importance of friendship lol )

He then gets sent back to the void but manages to free the new Zelda

Then he at some point finds a random ugly ball thing… man, dink really down graded

He finds it with the club he found chases after it then goes and blocks it before the new Zelda …Nelda can go get kidnapped again

Then legend gets Zelded and now knows how much it must have sucked for fable and Nelda

…he only wanted to go visit Hyrule why must it always be an adventure

He will blame him for it later

He also gets the triforce of courage back while Zelded

Then Nelda is back…but it’s two Neldas now

He then gets freed by one after …she copies (?) a bunch of .. beds (?) and kills the other one

Well , let’s hope it’s the good one who kills the other one he always had problems with Hilda

Then he fights an eldritch abomination and uses the ..prime energy (?) to go restore Hyrule

And his voice is back so the first thing he does is ask , “hey , what’s the date and where the fuck am I .?”

He is surprised when the king turns out not to be an asshole

And fucks off into the RIGHT time promising everyone to stay in contact via the post man

Hyrule wakes up to “I fought the embodiment of nothingness and got vored to visit you be fucking grateful”

He is more confused than he was happy about his brother's return

[burningcheese-merchant]

Xcuse me but I forgot very important questions about BS parenthood.

Does he teach the kids more things besides fighting? Is he a cool dad, stoic dad, protective dad or "over-the-moon" dad? Does he gives romantic advises to his son? Does he let his little beast princess play with boys her age? Does he dreads the day when she falls in love? (I have the headcannon over my own BurningCheese fankid that whatever girl/boyfriend she gets they need to AT LEAST be able to put up with him in battle)

Yay, more questions from my buddy Almellow 🗣️🔥🙌

Spice is 100% "over-the-moon dad" when they're babies. It's a pleasant surprise to many to see him so genuinely bubbly and smiley (not to Golden, though, she knows his soft side by now and is just happy to see him enjoying being a father). It's really cute. (I like the concept of hyper-masculine men being soft and loving towards their families ok)

As they grow up, he becomes a mix of all those dad modes, really. Mostly Cool Dad, because having your kids look at you like you're larger than life is just the best. (He's also not the best at disciplining them a lot of the time tbh. He wants to indulge their foolishness, it's more fun. He ends up acting like a child himself, wanting to have fun with his children. And then they all get chastised by Golden together after they break something lol)

He's less protective than you'd imagine him to be; not because he doesn't care, but because he really does have that much faith in their strength right from the get-go. It's actually Golden that's the overprotective one, at least when they're little; he had to coax her into letting them start their warrior training because she kept wanting to push it back and making excuses to do so. (She just can't bear the thought of her little ones getting hurt. She's lost so much already. If anything happened to her children, her little gems... Spice is the one to convince her to have faith in the kids and let them do things. Of course they'll get hurt, she and him get hurt all the time still and they're adults. But they'll be fine. They're tough. They have to nurture that toughness, not stifle it. They can't protect them forever... But they don't need to. The kids can stand on their own two feet. He's never doubted either of them for a second, for any reason. She shouldn't, either.) But make no mistake, Papa Bear is alive and well, just dormant. Only coming out when necessary. You want to see the old Burning Spice? You want to see the Beast of Destruction again? Hurt those kids. Harm a single hair on their heads. Make them cry, make them bleed. Knock on that devil's door enough and Burning Spice will answer it, and he will greet you with that axe of his and that fiery, seething hatred that once consumed his soul and helped burn away countless others'.

Burning Spice trying to talk to his son about love is a really amusing thought lol. I don't think he'd go out of his way to do it until he actually notices his son expressing some form of interest in someone, then it's honestly 50% Lighthearted Dad Mockery™️ and 50% Actually Trying to Teach My Son How to Be Smooth™️. Pepper Jack is having less than none of it, this is all embarrassing as hell, he doesn't want to hear a damn word from his father's mouth (he's a teenager by this point, what teen wants their dad to try to coach them on how to flirt lol). He tries to shut Spice down with sarcasm (Jack is the KING of backtalk and smartassery when he's a teenager, he's a damn menace) or just questioning his wisdom in general. He likes to bring up how annoying and gross Spice and Golden always are (unapologetic PDA constantly lol). He's already forced to witness what "love" and flirting look like, he doesn't need his father pouring salt in his wounds

(Jack once made the mistake of going "didn't you used to be weird and creepy towards Mother" once, as a sort of "gotcha". It made Spice genuinely upset and angry and he tore Jack a new one that lol. Jack felt bad (and kind of scared. Spice never really gets truly angry with the kids, but Jack has seen him get angry with others, and... Oh Lord) and apologized, promising he wouldn't say anything like that again. Things were cold and awkward between them for, like, a week. And then Spice got over it and went back to annoying his son like usual lol)

As for Matar Paneer... She's his princess. His little girl. His little flower. (He has nicknames for both of them lol. He really does love them very much.) She can play with who she wants, so long as she's happy and no harm comes to her (but again, he believes in her strength wholeheartedly and expects her to kick ass if trouble comes by). But... Oh. When she's old enough to date... Poor Spice, he's so miserable lol. He would unironically own and wear this shirt:

If Burning Spice is saying he'd gladly go back to prison for something, you best believe he's being sincere lol

It's Golden that has to step in here. Before, he was the one soothing her worries; now the roles are reversed. She needs Spice to understand that Paneer is a becoming a young woman and she has the right to pursue and be pursued if she wishes. It's ok to care and worry, but he has to let her live and grow. (She's her mother and has always been a girl's girl, she knows what's up and will always be 100% in Paneer's corner in this regard.) Spice once asked her to have more faith in them, now she's asking him to do the same. (And, of course, he can brutally murder whoever hurts Paneer, if that really does happen. But he'll have to wait his turn, because Golden already plans to do the same ☺️)

And yeah, of course Spice teaches them stuff besides fighting. He's happy to do so. He teaches them how to meditate (he gets back into that after he reforms. Jack picks it up a lot faster than Paneer does lol). He teaches them to make the traditional Wild Spice dishes he still remembers how to do himself (he lets the other spices teach them the rest). He... teaches them about history. About the Wild Spices' history, and about history in general. He sounds so... somber when he talks about things like that. It's strange to them. They're used to seeing him act lively and wear that sharp-toothed grin he's always got. But it must mean that what he's saying is really important, right? He wouldn't look and sound like that if he wasn't being serious, right?

[fuctacles]

Henderson's-brother-centered misadventures continue [Part IV]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

Eddie screamed. Then, he screamed some more. Then, he got hit with a teddy bear, which bounced off into the floor, barely disturbing his mane of hair.

“You get a drop of spit on my pillow, and you’re washing all my sheets!”

He groaned, like a wounded animal. If animals could be wounded by their best friend’s disloyalty.

“No, dude! You can scream into your own fucking pillow! We can jam if you need, smoke or steal a beer, hell, I can even listen to you. But don’t just come here to stink my room with-” Gareth made a flapping motion in Eddie’s general direction. “Whatever this is.”

Eddie groaned louder before finally rolling onto his back.

“I fucking hate him.”

“I was hoping you’d choose jamming,” Gareth sighed. He threw his leg over his chair and leaned on the back of it. “You mean Big Bro Henderson?”

“Who else?” Eddie threw his hands up into the ceiling. His friend barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “He’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met!”

“Good thing you can’t meet yourself, then.”

Eddie glared at him, but from this angle, it gave him a double chin which severely decreased the look’s efficiency.

“You calling me annoying?”

“Yes.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘lively’. Or ‘charismatic’! Or, or, ‘non-conforming’!”

“No, I’m pretty sure ‘annoying’ is the word. Also, ‘dramatic’.”

Eddie glared again, but since his position has not changed so hasn’t its lack of impact.

“How dare you,” he seethed. Gareth completely ignored it.

“So, what did he do this time? Give you more cookies?”

“No!” He had regretted the decision to tell him about it as soon as it left his mouth, but it was out there now. Well, the price of the blackmail material was listening to it first. “He just…” Eddie trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. ‘He let me sit in his lap for the whole length of Karate Kid’ was so much harder to explain than ‘he gave me an extra cookie for my good work.’ He scrambled to find a better approach. 

“So he’s like a therapy dog,” he started, because painting the scene is important.

“What.”

Wrong approach.

“Okay, so I’ve found out he has some issues, something to do with the Starcourt fire, I think? You know nothing of it, by the way, I probably shouldn't know about it. Henderson, well, the little one, just has a big mouth.”

“And so do you. By telling me,” his friend pointed out.

“Emerson, this isn’t about you,” Eddie scolded him. “So he needs extra physical contact or something. And he might have um…” Wrong turn again. “Engaged me in it?”

“Ok, hold on,” Gareth dropped his forehead on the edge of the chair’s back and rubbed his temples. “What do you mean by that? Because I know it’s not as weird as you make it sound.”

Eddie crossed his arms, which looked extra stupid in his horizontal position. He tapped his socked foot against the mattress.

“We were watching Karate Kid, and the couch wasn’t big enough for four people. Nobody else wanted to sit in his lap and I thought it would be, you know, funny, to offer. And he just said ‘okay’, and did it!” His arms flew up into the air again.

Gareth lifted his head.

“So you sat in his lap.”

“He put me in his lap.”

“Dude, you throw your legs all over me when we watch a movie!”

“Yeah, but that’s different!”

“How?”

“Because we’re friends! We play together and shit!”

Gareth scrunched his nose because while he knew of the wisdom his friend possessed (very selective and rarely occurring in the daylight), admitting him right was painful because the cockiness he possessed was probably far greater.

“Well, maybe he’s giving you signs he wants to be friends?”

Eddie snorted.

"No way. Not possible. No."

"And why is that?" Gareth raised an eyebrow at the adamant negation.

"I'm his younger brother's friend-"

"Who's his age."

"-And we like different things. I'm a freak, I like metal and D&D!"

"So does Dustin, and they get along well."

"They are brothers!" 

"Well, I actually hate my sister, it’s not a rule."

Eddie groaned.

"I don't know," he ended up saying, just to voice his internal frustration. At least he was facing the ceiling now and not Gareth's pillow.

He hummed, considering his friend, trying to understand his problem, to even locate it.

"Okay, so you don't like that he's nice?"

"Yes."

"... You want him to be mean?"

"... Yes? Maybe?"

Gareth hit his head against the chair. 

"This whole conversation is lost on me."

When he looked up he met Eddie's eyes, a storm brewing behind them.

"I don't want to like him. But he makes it hard not to because he's so nice."

‘He treats me like I'm normal, like his equal’, went unspoken but Gareth could hear it anyway. It was time to end the questions for the day because getting any deeper into his friend's psyche could trap him like quicksand. 

"And then I go to apologize and end up talking about BDSM of all things!"

"Nope!" Gareth straightened up and hopped out of his chair. "We're going to the garage, so I can't hear you over the drums."

"What a best friend you are," Eddie grumbled but rolled off the bed regardless. He was secretly glad for an excuse to stop talking about Henderson because he started getting lost in his thoughts and feelings himself.

The next time he sees Steve, he doesn’t make it any easier. They see each other only in passing, and the older brother doesn’t give him more than a weak smile and a "Hi, Eddie. Dustin's upstairs," before leaving.

Eddie walks up to his friend's room thoroughly confused. 

"What was that about?" he asks instead of a greeting. He never greets his friends properly these days, but there are more important things like ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s.

"What was what about?"

"Steve," Eddie frowns like it explains everything. And apparently, it does.

"I think he's still upset after last time."

Eddie blinks.

"I said I was sorry!"

Dustin rolls his eyes.

"Sorry doesn't solve everything. It's like a," he snaps his fingers looking for a good comparison. "Like one of the spell components. It's not gonna work without all of them."

Guess he is casting Charm Person after all.

"Okay, but like. What are the other components?"

Dustin just shrugs.

"Hell if I know."

Eddie was burdened with the most unhelpful friends. 

"What do you do when you upset him?"

Dustin's first instinct is to protest, probably point out what a great little brother he is, but one stern look from Eddie makes him shut his mouth and reconsider his words.

"Well, if I made him upset, I'd help him with dinner, make him coffee or tea, pick a movie I know he'd like. Help out with chores, mostly. He does too much by himself." The frown on his face is deep like the mystery of Steve's adoption and Eddie mirrors it.

"This sounds all great when you're brothers, but I'm not a Henderson, how am I supposed to pull that off?

"You helped with dinner once, you could do it again," 

Eddie sighs, long and suffering.

"I guess…"

"Great! Steve has left to get groceries and is making dinner later, I'm sure he'll appreciate the help!" He grins, knowing full well he just backed his friend into a corner.

Eddie sputters when he realizes that. 

“What? Today?”

“No better time than the present.” Dustin shrugs smugly, like it was a universal law they can’t help but follow.

Eddie bristles, because, yeah, true, but…

“I'm not mentally prepared," he complains. 

"For what?" Dustin raises his brows in this annoying way of his. "Cooking?"

"You ate my mac and cheese, you understand the severity of the situation!" he yells, accusingly pointing a finger at him.

"Ate is a big word, I spat it out. And calling it mac and cheese is also a big word."

"Exactly!" Usually Eddie didn't like his abilities slandered like that but on the rare occasion when it served his purpose… 

"Steve's first casserole was also inedible," Dustin shrugs and Eddie tries to picture Mr. Perfect Housewife fucking up a dish. "You have about an hour to mentally prepare before he's back though. You can spend it finishing your readings."

Ah, right. The mundane purpose of his visit was schoolwork.

Eddie groans. He can only hope the tragic stories of holocaust victims will set him in the right mind for cooking with Steve.

They don’t. He's heavily unprepared for the confrontation when they're running down the stairs to help with the bags. 

When Steve's instructing them which things he needs and which can be put away, Dustin elbows his friend in the ribs, hard. He hisses in pain, attracting Steve's attention.

"You staying for dinner?" he asks before Eddie can say anything. 

"Uh, if I can help with it, then yeah," he says, feeling Dustin’s annoying beady eyes on himself.

Steve frowns at him.

"You don't have to do that, I’ve told you before."

"Yeah, but I'm done with my work for today," Eddie adds under the menacing gaze. "And my cooking skills need some guidance. Wayne is too old to stomach my food, he can't risk another food poisoning,” he babbles, earning himself a snort from Steve. 

“Okay, if it's that bad,” he agrees finally,  the smile Eddie has gotten used to once again on his face. "But you'll be under strict supervision."

"Of course!"

"Okay, you already got yourself a kitchen slave, so I can go finish my work," Dustin speaks up before promptly disappearing, only the sound of his rushed retreating steps left.

"Guess we're alone then," Steve comments, giving Eddie an odd look. He thought he was used to those but Steve's were always hard to decipher. Not the exact kind he usually got.

He clears his throat to dislodge the weird feeling clogging it up.

"So, what are we cooking today?"

Steve hums, looking at the ingredients before him.

"You ever cooked soup?"

"Uh, I assume you don't mean the instant kind?"

Steve makes a disgusted face, fake gags for a good measure too.

"Soup it is then. It's getting colder, and I'm sure Wayne would appreciate it," he says, eyeing Eddie questioningly, and this one he deciphers easily.

"My uncle,” he explains. "I live with him."

To his surprise, Steve smiles warmly.

"Wanna make some extra you can heat up for him?"

"That's-" Eddie's taken aback, which doesn't happen to him often. "That would be very nice, thank you."

"It’s nothing. He should know his nephew is spending his time productively."

"I'm always productive," he mutters back a complete lie. But he's been trying, okay?

"I know," Steve says, surprising him again. "Maybe I want to get on your uncle's good side too."

Eddie doesn't ask why. Doesn't want to know. Doesn't speculate. Just leaves it be, bugging him for the time being.

"I was thinking fritters too? Since they're easy to heat up later."

Eddie nods, watching him sort through the vegetables.

"Whatever you say, chef."

Steve instructs him through the soup preparations first, explaining it needs more time to cook. 

“I hope you don’t mind veggie broth. El didn’t like chicken and we kinda got used to it. Also, it’s cheaper,” he says, watching Eddie pour water over the vegetables arranged in the pot. 

He puts the pot on the burner and looks up.

"Who's El?"

"Dustin's friend. She moved to California though," Steve answers with a frown.

"That's a bit of a drive."

"Yeah," Steve scrunches his nose, then looks back into the pot, before reaching for a box of seasoning.

"Ok, now for the fun part."

Eddie has no idea how seasoning a pot of vegetable water can be fun, but he's not about to argue. He follows instructions and marvels at the amount of weird plants that could be added to food. 

"I feel like a witch," he whispers, tossing dried herbs into his cauldron.

Steve chuckles.

"You kinda look like one."

Eddie side-eyes him from his position over the pot.

"I hope that's a compliment."

"Oh, it is," Steve says in a weird voice and Eddie is too afraid to look at him. He flips through the seasoning packets instead, reading unfamiliar names.

"Okay, so this needs a couple of hours to cook, you'll know when it starts getting together from the smell. Then we'll blanche the onions and garlic, add the tomatoes, blend it all, and it's done. Now we can work on the fritters. Have you done them before?"

Eddie thinks about it for a moment.

"I saw my uncle make them."

"Potato ones?"

"Uh, yeah? Are there more options?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together.

"Apparently, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. “A fritter is technically anything you can grate, slap together and fry in a pancake-ish shape."

"Huh. I've learned so much today already."

Steve laughs. 

"So, what do you want in the fritters?" he asks and Eddie is ridiculously giddy about having a choice.

"Can we put meat in them?"

"Yeah, I've made them with bacon before."

Eddie's eyes sparkle.

"Potatoes with bacon and cheese?"

"Holy shit,” Steve groans. “Claudia's gonna kill us, but it sounds so good." He ponders on it for a moment. "We could add corn to pretend there are vegetables in them."

"Ketchup is a vegetable," Eddie points out and Steve bristles. 

"We're not eating them with ketchup!" he protests. "But… we could use some of the tomatoes to make a sauce."

Eddie never thought cooking could be this fun.

"Yesss!"

"You're way more excited than I thought you'd be," Steve observes, grabbing the potatoes to wash.

"I'm a growing boy, of course I'm excited about food. Besides, we're like two alchemists; mixing up stuff to make other stuff."

Steve laughs again.

"Are those the guys who tried turning metals into gold?"

"Precisely!"

He's tasked with peeling the potatoes while Steve puts bacon in the oven. He’s  never good at it, and he huffs angrily when Steve joins him and gets through three potatoes while he peels one. What's worse, he can see him watching and his fingers twitching.

"Okay, I can see you itching to correct me. Just do it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah man, unless you have some disease I could catch, I'll be fine."

Steve winces and Eddie has a lightning-fast memory of a rumour that gays spread a deadly disease. But Steve isn't gay, probably, and it's just a rumour.

Steve is still haste when he rearranges his fingers on the peeler and takes his hand away like touching him burns.

Eddie frowns. Well, that's not gonna cut it.

"Like this?" he asks, making a motion he knows is wrong.

"No, like-" Steve reaches out and hesitates. 

"I don't have cooties, come on."

Steve presses his lips together and wraps his hand around his. He has to move closer too, crowding Eddie's side. 

"Like this," he says, whispers really, pushing his hand in the right motion.

This suddenly feels more obscene than it is, but Eddie’s half tempted to push it further.

"Your hands are weirdly soft. Do you steal Robin's hand cream?" he asks instead.

Steve huffs at the backhanded compliment and retraces his soft, big hands.

"No, I have my own."

"Hmm." Eddie cocks his head, looking him up and down. "Should have guessed."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Steve asks with a frown, but he can tell the anger is played up. 

"Nothing," Eddie shrugs. "You just look like someone taking care of himself." 

Steve keeps looking at him like he is not sure if he should be offended or not so Eddie helps him out by rolling his eyes. 

“Don't worry, I judge you more for your music than your hygiene.”

“Of course,” Steve huffs. “You wouldn't know much about hygiene anyway, would you?” he teases with a smirk.

Eddie gasps.

“Are you implying trailer trash don't clean themselves?” he asks, eyes wide and offended. 

“What? No!” The smile vanishes instantly from his face. “Of course not!” Steve scrambles to defend himself. But then, he cocks his hip and crosses his arms.

“You know what? No. I stand by it. Your hair needs proper care, not whatever 3 in 1 you treat it with,” he says. 

“5 in 1,” Eddie corrects him smugly. 

“Five?”

“Hair, body, face, beard and ass,” he lists on his fingers, earning himself a look of disgust from Steve. 

“For that alone, you’re washing your hands again.”

Eddie knows he doesn't have to, but complies anyway. Whatever makes the big Henderson happy. And consecutively, the little Henderson. And somehow, Eddie himself.

By the time the sun starts setting, he’s gained some valuable culinary knowledge, including the fact that as a cook, he gets to taste the dishes all the time. His growing boy tummy is satiated with a stolen strip of bacon and one of the test fritters he’s munching on, when they hear the door unlock.

“I’m home!” a woman’s voice calls out. Eddie freezes.

“We’re just finishing dinner!” Steve calls back while the man next to him shrinks on himself, looking up at him and wondering why he isn’t being pushed into a closet like a secret paramour. 

“Your mom is here?!” he seethes through his teeth, eyes jumping from Steve to the door. 

“Well, yeah?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “She lives here?” 

“But why am I here?!”

Was Steve this stupid or did he not grasp the severity of the situation?

“You’re cooking? Staying for dinner? Studying? The fuck do you mean man?” he answers, more or less matching his volume.

“Mothers hate me!” Eddie reminds him helpfully, making Steve only roll his eyes with a huff.

“Claudia likes you.”

“She never saw me,” he reminds him. Because as soon as any of the suburban moms caught a whiff of his metal vest, his dark clothes and long hair, he felt disgusted eyes on his back. 

And when the Satanist drug dealer rumours reach them? Things only get worse. 

“Dude-”

“Oh, hi boys!” A tired-looking blond woman enters the kitchen. Her smile doesn’t waver despite Eddie’s presence, meaning she must have seen some shit in her life. “You didn’t tell me we’ll have a guest today.”

Steve steps in before he can put his foot in his mouth, laying his big warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Eddie finished his work early and wanted to help in the kitchen. Hope that’s alright.”

At the mere thought it wouldn’t be, Eddie’s stomach twisted. 

“Of course! The more, the merrier!” Claudia smiled, still seemingly genuine, before stepping closer and extending her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, Eddie. I’ve heard a lot about you from my boys.”

Steve’s hand is still on him squeezing minutely to remind him to shake Claudia’s hand.

“Likewise.” He smiles to his best ability, unable to remember the last time he was friendly with someone's parents. Except Gareth's, maybe.

“What did boys make?” she asks, sniffing the air and trying to peek over his shoulder.

“Tomato soup, like you asked, and some fritters.”

“With veggies, I hope?” She squints at her oldest (newest?) son.

“There’s corn in them, and we made a tomato sauce.” He smiled brightly and Eddie could tell he was happy to play the good kid role. 

“Good. I’m gonna change and get back to you,” she says before disappearing upstairs, probably to harass the younger Henderson now. 

“Why was she so nice?” Eddie muses, half to Steve, half to himself, half to the universe in general. Wait, that's three halves. Well, he didn’t fail school because of his great math skills.

“She's always nice.” Steve steps away to work on the next batch of fritters.

“Not to me! Mothers hate me! I bet she’s just pretending but as soon as I disappear, you're gonna hear all about it!”

“Hey!” Steve turns back towards him, frowning. And uh-oh, he upset him again. On his reverse-upset mission. “Claudia’s not some uptight bitch like that. She likes all our friends and you're not an exception. Just because you dress differently isn’t gonna ban you from the house or get us in trouble.” He knocks him on the head for good measure. “You’re safe here.”

“Okay,” Eddie simply says, taken aback. Being welcomed somewhere was a feeling he still had to process.

“We're safe here,” was a soft addition he almost missed over his own loud thoughts but made him even more curious about Steve himself. 

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 @just-a-tiny-void @clumsiluni @shotgunhallelujah @halfadoginatank @carlprocastinator1000 @irregular-child

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I Still Carry You With Me

A/N: Y'all thought I was just going to do one post today? Think again! You all know that if there's one thing I'm going to do, it's write a fic to prove a point! And proving a point, I am! You all can catch me outside with that Cassian doesn't have a haircare routine 😤 Especially @dustjacketmusings and @separatist-apologist! I told y'all I was going to do it, so here I am for @cassianappreciationweek. Hope you're ready to get ✨sad✨

Read on AO3

Cassian carefully runs his fingers through his hair, working the oil along his scalp. When he’s satisfied, he grabs a silk scarf and bends over, letting gravity help as he pulls his curls into a pile atop his head to secure for sleep. A gentle hand glides along the base of his spine as he tightens the knot, leaving him grinning at the warmth that blooms across his skin at such a soft touch.

“Almost finished?”

Cassian stands back to his full height, turning away from the array of products and vials placed neatly on the vanity. Nesta has her own hair braided simply down her back, her frame practically swallowed by the soft gray fabric of one of his shirts. She looks adorable, and Cassian can’t help but step closer into her space, hands sliding around her waist.

“All finished, sweetheart.”

Nesta hums quietly, pressing up onto her toes and stealing a sweet kiss. “You know, sometimes I think you primp more than even Rhysand.”

“It’s important to tend to your hair,” Cassian tells her, carefully walking her back toward their bed. “The best way to rise above those who think you’re beneath them is to always look your best.”

“Who said that?”

Cassian’s teasing smirk slips, the smile that remains tinged with sadness. That familiar ache, that familiar grief he’s carried with him for centuries now, twists and squeezes between his ribs. If he closes his eyes, he can still see a pair of warm brown eyes, can still hear a soft raspy voice sharing those exact words of wisdom with him.

“Rhys’s mother, Velaria. She told me that when she took me in,” Cassian explains, settling on their bed. “She never fully felt like she fit in here in Velaris as an Illyrian. Being Lady of Night and the High Lord’s mate didn’t matter, didn’t stop the high fae from sneering or whispering remarks about her heritage. But you’d never know it with the way she dressed, the way she held herself.”

“Like armor, in her own way.”

Nesta takes the spot beside him on the bed. She curls her knees up to her chest, shoving her cold toes right underneath Cassian’s thigh to leech his warmth. Cassian leans over enough that he can circle his arms around her legs, that he can tuck his cheek right against her knee, leeching his own comfort from his mate.

“Yeah… When I was young, I never quite understood, but when I got older…” Cassian chuckles softly to himself, the memory still so clear even after all this time, still taking him right back to the Hewn City. “She’d stroll into a room in a beautiful gown, jewels on her throat and head, not a single hair out of place, and those high fae’s faces?” Cassian whistles lowly. “And they couldn’t say a damn thing then.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“When she first took me in, I was certainly a mess from my time living in the bastards’ camp, barely even touched a hairbrush at that age. But she was quick to put me in my place and through my paces. She told me I could show off in the ring and win the Blood Rite all I want, but they’d never stop calling me a bastard if I didn’t stop acting like one.”

He still remembers that first bath after being welcomed into the cabin in Windhaven. The way his head had been dunked beneath the warm water, the way that water had run brown by the time he was finished. He still remembers being sat against Velaria’s knees and the wool skirts of her dress. Her quiet tsks from above him as a brush was yanked through his hair.

“She taught me everything I know about taking care of my hair. All the soaps and oils, how to protect it when I fly and when I sleep.”

If he closes his eyes, it takes him right back and he can picture it perfectly. Back before he hit his growth spurt, his feet dangling off the ground where he was pressed beside Velaria on the bench for her vanity table. He can see her delicate hands reaching for each vial and bottle neatly arranged in a row, can hear her explain what each one was and why it was important. She took the time to work each into her own hair, Cassian watching with wide, awe-struck eyes, his own smaller hands trying to mimic the exact movements, to copy the routine as she did.

“I think in a way I reminded her of home. Rhys and Rhia–Rhiannon, his sister–they both got their hair from their father. Velaria always said I had true Illyrian hair.”

“Unruly?”

Cassian laughs at the gentle teasing, but he can feel himself getting choked up, can feel that familiar pressure in his throat. “She taught me the Illyrian ways too, how to style and braid it. I even used to do Rhia’s hair for her.”

All those mornings and evenings spent here in the House of Wind, they forever hold a special place in his heart.

Even when he became too large for the vanity bench beside her, he would still visit Velaria’s rooms. He’d stand beside her in front of the mirror, working through their routines side by side. It didn’t matter that he towered over her now, she’d still tsk, still tug at the strands of his hair, still chastise and put him in his place even as she’d pat his cheek with all that motherly love. She’d laugh softly and look at him with that smile, with her brown eyes sparking with fondness.

He cherished those moments.

And then Rhia would come clambering into his own room, jumping on his bed until he finally got her to calm enough to sit down. He’d run the brush carefully through her hair, taking the time to braid it back in a way that the dark strands wouldn’t get tangled or in the way of her wings when she flew. She’d chatter the whole time, unable to stop even when she was sitting still. Always a bundle of never ending energy.

The feel of Nesta’s thumb sliding across his cheek pulls Cassian back to the present, and he realizes belatedly that he’s started to cry. He leans into her touch, into the comfort of it, of her, allowing it to ground him against the crushing grief he still carries like ice around his heart no matter how much time passes.

“I miss them both so much,” Cassian rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “When I do the hair routine Velaria taught me, it’s like she’s still here with me, like I’m keeping her memory alive.”

“You are,” Nesta assures him. “And soon, you’ll be able to pass on that memory, to continue passing on Velaria’s legacy.”

Nesta uses her free hand to curl her fingers around one of Cassian’s wrists, to guide his hand to press against her stomach. It’s still early, still too soon for her to even be showing, but Cassian smiles through the tears still clinging to his eyelashes at the life growing just beneath his palm. At the idea of having his own child squeezed beside him and mirroring his haircare routine just as he did all those centuries ago.

And he just knows that wherever Velaria may be, she’ll be smiling down on him when he does.

—

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[astropookie]

astro thoughts 🏇🌈✨💫🍳

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH ❤️ even though it’s almost July

disclaimer: I didn’t check my orthography

i hate it but what’s trying to tell me the universe. my friend reminds me of my mom 😭 kill me pls. she have sun 11H, she worries a lot about how others understand what she saids, what others may think of her. she wants to be peaceful but at the same time she have moon in scorpio so she’s struggling and she have a certain opinion about others based on the first impression or what made more impact -negative? idk. now I feel judge -I think it’s my anxiety-. Update: i said what was bothering me to her and everything is said, I’m proud of me, I’m in peace, she responded in a understanding manner. I can breath.

the degree of your ascendant says ALOT, not only about the physical appearance. it could point out even your career, how’s focused your life, how you react…now that I think about it, it’s like an ascendant in your ascendant pc (but if it confused you ignore it).

for example, my friend have gemini degree in his ascendant, he’s doing his major in communication, his family is full of artists and specially musicians, so he grew up knowing how to play every music instrument, it’s like breathing to him, music. he’s used to it and he express himself by composing and being curious, wanting to know about this and that. other example: my other friend has a gemini rising but I was thinking “there’s something that’s missing” 👀 the leo degree of course. he be slayyiing💅 he’s sassy. he knows what he wants and people always be wanting him not the other way around 🙄 he’s like purr stunning gurl 💋

the same friend told me the other day that his first impression of me was or exactly what he thought: “you don’t want to mess with her” “I wouldn’t mess with her ever”. he told me I remembered him of maddy of euphoria -I gave him the idea bc I didn’t understand and he agreed-. Ascendant - Saturn aspects make you look like a bad bitch, like they’ll kick your ass if you don’t do what they tell you, THEY ARE. The structure of their face is also bony. They look like they’re mad, like they’re on their way and if you step there you’re dead: karmic. The jawline, omg, is sharp, it could cut you.

Picture 1 Picture 2 Picture3

Also, bc Capricorn is ruled by Saturn, Capricorn ascendants and saturn-ascendant aspects share characteristics but are not the same? Capricorn risings have this cheekbones that are so sensual and even if they age, the cheekbones are still there, what you notice first is that. What they share is the intimidating aura strangers perceive. In different levels or forms I believe.

Dakota Johnson Gisele Bündchen

TWO QUEENS THAT I CANT FINISH TO DESCRIBE HOW THEIRE SO ETHEREAL BEAUTIFUL STUNNING ICONIC AND INFINITE THINGS MORE

I have Mars in Retrograde. I don’t know what bothers me until I explode or until I go to my psychologist. I minimize what bothers me and save it all in the back, so then my brain will hurt. I don’t figure out or notice when something bothers me bc I don’t think is a big deal or that’s a joke, but even if it’s a joke I can still not like it -a side note-. You’ll find me realizing later what was bothering me and then struggling to tell people how I really felt when they did THAT something.

Picture from Pinterest

when the kid’s mercury is sextile Saturn’s dad (synastry: mercury sextile saturn), it means the dad communicates with their child as a way of teaching, caring about them. through their communication, they share childhood stories, experiences of any type and what they have learned about them, what they have observed. trough their talking they share their wisdom. the father have all the attention of their kid when he opens his mouth. the kid somehow knows something important is about to be said or they admires their dad that much.

Picture from Pinterest

Leo moons 5H + aries degree can be pretty egoist, they could lost themselves in the idea of something, of having it. Also they don’t think, twice letting themselves be carried by the emotion that idea gives them. They’re in their pretty little world of fun but they are not looking what’s happening to others, they’re hungry for their passion. I HAVE TO TELL: not everyone with these placements are like this and blablabla -the same thing I say for precaution- AND I had something, it’s not even something 🙄 I had nothing with these placement k? but it gives you an explanation for my attitude. STILL, I think I gotta mention some of the synastry so it’ll make sense. In another time bc I don’t want to waste my energy in that -and don’t want to-.

Saturn in opposition with Uranus aspect makes the individual stay in the doubt. They’re stanched while they keep analyzing the pro and cons of the situation they want to start/be part. Even if someone extern try to help, they’ll be doubting more.

Virgo moons are just so wholesome ☹️❤️ They want to help. they’re always doing something. they want the best for you. they care of others as if they take care of themselves but better, sadly. they work too much they need a rest but they know they’ll be anxious of doing nothing. they’re just pure souls. they’re so kind. always helping in a ONG/organization that helps needed ones.

Aquarius mercury always have something to say, they’re always right 🙄 even though they say it’s comprensible and natural that everyone have their own beliefs I don’t believe them. I think they think their mindset is better and everyone should follow it. LIKE GURL WTF I know you think you are wise and shit and you’ve passed through experiences that made you learned and that inspired you to tell them to others BUT let others make mistakes and be wrong, let others don’t be like you, there’s the beauty. I always find them criticizing others for their manners, as if they have lived the same way you did.

I don’t believe/trust? in libras, yeah ok may be that my sun is in libra but not my whole chart. That’s what I’m talking about, with that last sentence I’m gaslighting you 💌 how tf you believe in libras when they don’t tell the truth directly I CANT. With my honesty I gotta mention that my libra sun appear when I don’t want to ruin something that benefits me, when I don’t know the person and I try my best, to my sag/scorpio/aquarius placements to not appear. They always keep something in their minds, they don’t tell you all, they keep to themselves some part, could be to not hurt you, doesn’t benefits them or whatever. a friend with moon in libra degree and another with libra moon: I always want them to say what they want, they can’t. I want to squish the hell out of them bc I can’t too😭🔪

Ceres 3H is a good placement for a psychologist. How they motivate others using their minds, that easily absorbs and process/analyses experiences and knowledge, to finally find a solution depending on the case -of the patient-, so it’ll be suitable. When they help others, their communication keeps improving with time. More experience = better. Still, it’s natural.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[mllemaenad]

See – this is what I missed from Veilguard. Most of Dragon Age is in a constant conversation about power and leadership. If this is your first playthrough, you won't know any of this is important yet. But the main point of Ostagar, beyond setting up the tragedy, is to give you an opportunity to meet all the major players. Because eventually, you're going to have to solve Ferelden's political crisis.

You can see that Cailan's bonhomie is likely genuine – but it's also a political tactic. His father, Maric, also knew how to bond with his subjects. And a tendency to run back into danger to rescue imperilled footsoldiers, while not perhaps tactically sound, was a solid way to win the love of the people who supported him during the rebellion.

But Cailan is is clearly not taking the darkspawn threat seriously. It doesn't necessarily matter if it's a "true" Blight or not: evidence suggests quite a lot of darkspawn are coming their way, and they need to take steps to deal with that. He's not necessarily stupid, but he has no real head for these kinds of tactics.

Loghain is established as the tactician. Everyone knows he's the brains of this outfit. Thing is, he'll tell you himself he thinks this situation is already well and truly out of control: "Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort".

It's not even that Loghain is rude, or more remote than Cailan; honestly he's incredibly polite, given that Seanna just summoned him from his tent because she wanted to see what this guy looked like. But Loghain will do what he deems tactically sound. He'll do it even if it means getting people killed who do not deserve to die.

And Alistair, there – well, at least as far as this goes, he's an excellent mix of both. He's clearly got Cailan's good humour (and once you know they share a father, that tracks), but he's also very clearly a thinker. There's plenty he doesn't know about the Grey Wardens because he's new, but he has absolutely done the reading. And he's sceptical where something smells like bullshit, and well aware of the political machinations going on around him.

The problem of Alistair is that if you suggest that he use those talents in order to be in charge of something, he will stick his head in the sand and yell I CAN'T HEAR YOU until you give up and go away.

Anora, of course, needs to wait a bit to make her case ... but we'll get there.

You can absorb all the things these people say and do, so when the moment comes, you can make the choices you believe are right for Ferelden.

And look, yes, I'm still mad about this:

I'm partly mad because, while I recognise that I would have got to participate in this decision if we'd saved Minrathous, that makes no bloody sense.

While I'll be the first to admit I'm not Inquisition's biggest fan either, I will give them this: when they say you can only choose to go to the mages or the templars, it is because you are taking sides in a conflict between those two groups. You can't reasonably rock up to both and say "Hey, want to be allies?" Moreover, it's not simply a matter of losing content from the choice. You get different content as a result of that choice. Samson or Calpernia, depending on where you went.

Minrathous/Treviso is specifically not a choice. You send teams to both. Immediately. Both cities are under threat and you divide the team to deal with it. The game simply makes it so the team containing Rook is successful, and the other team isn't. Absolutely nothing of note happened there.

And, despite some initial griping, we are still definitely working with Ashur and his Shadow Dragons. That relationship still exists. There really isn't any good reason to not have a quest here, except to artificially force re-playability without producing new content.

But honestly ... it's not even that. I'd probably have picked Dorian anyway, so it's not like I'm sour at not getting what I want. It's that ... this is probably the most politically significant decision in the entire game, and that screenshot above is the first I heard of it.

There's a solid argument to be made that, if the south is as badly off as the Inquisitor says, Tevinter is once again the major world power. The capital took a bit of a beating in the endgame, sure, but that was brief and explicitly solved at the end. The rest of Tevinter seems ... pretty much fine? They're no longer at war with Par Vollen, because Par Vollen doesn't have an army anymore. Orlais seems to be down for the count.

Now, there are other potential contenders (Nevarra seems to have weathered the crisis pretty well, and some of the Free Marches still seem to be standing ...), but Veilguard won't talk about politics unless you put a gun to its head, so who knows.

Tevinter is the big political player up for grabs ... its leadership could mould the next age ... but it doesn't come up. Regardless of who makes the decision, it should matter!

If I've got to the end of a Dragon Age game, and I don't know who is running the country I'm currently standing in ... something has gone very wrong.

[2plottwist]

The Heir of Ravenshade

Summary: As the young heir to the noble Ravenshade family of Baldur’s Gate, you are destined to inherit your father’s vast gem trade empire. One day, two men arrive at your family's estate, seeking an audience with your father to discuss crucial dealings in the gem trade. In an effort to prepare you for your future role, your father invites you to sit in on the meeting, turning what begins as a routine training exercise into a pivotal moment that could shape your future.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Early Vampire Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: weapons

Author: Kenna:)

The Ravenshade estate is a majestic exhibition of your family’s past and present. Its stone walls are draped in ivy tendrils and encircled by wildflowers, their vibrant petals reflecting the rich hues of the gems your family has traded for centuries. The fortress is a consistent reminder of the Ravenshade family’s status and importance throughout Faerûn history. 

You received an invitation from your father asking for your presence in the Great Hall this evening to attend a meeting with an esteemed nobleman of Baldur’s Gate. As you stride down the marble floors of the estate, you can’t help but think of the future your father is preparing you for. 

You are the sole heir of the Ravenshade empire. Your family’s dealings in the gem and jewelry trade have been documented since the founding of Baldur’s Gate. Your eyes roam to the portraits lining the wall. The faces of your former patriarchs who have upheld the grace and determination to establish one of the wealthiest family businesses in Faerûn. 

Your velvet garments move softly against your skin. Are the goosebumps rising on your flesh from your sapphire fabric or your anxiety? You cannot tell. Now that your father is climbing in age, it is important that you learn all that is required to uphold the dynasty that has controlled the gem trade for centuries. A large amount of pressure weighs on your shoulders as the oak doors of the Great Hall draw closer. 

Your father’s letter stated that you were to arrive well before the guests are expected to come, yet, once you push the creaking doors open, you see three men standing before the window overlooking the estate’s moonlit courtyard. 

A numbing sensation crawls around your torso at your father’s disapproving gaze. You checked your timepiece, seeing that you did arrive at the time the letter requested. Your father’s hearty laugh brought your eyes back to the present. Slipping into your practiced persona, you glide over to  the figures standing at the window. 

“Ah, yes, Lord Szarr and Ancunin, allow me to present my beloved daughter/son and the only heir to the Ravenshade legacy.” My fathers smooth voice floats across the room. Your elegant smile radiates one of wisdom, expertly crafted by your father’s copious amounts of training. 

You nod politely at both lords, noting their stances and making your initial assumptions. The first, Lord Szarr as your father introduced him, wears a tunic of emblazoned gold and dark red and dark trousers to match. His hair is well-trained to smoothly glides across his scalp and shapes around his pointed ears. His shoulders square towards yours, swiftly moving in front of the other man, bringing a sinister looking smile to his face. The second man, one of starlit, white hair that seems to move and curl in its own graceful manner, Lord Ancunin stands back, shoulders relaxed and poised. He’s obviously of past noble descent, knowing when to move and when to stay put according to status. His eyes roam your face taking in every dip and curve of your features. His gaze felt like a cold ray of moonlight upon your skin. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Lord Szarr begins, bowing his head to you, “You may call me Cazador.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Cazador,” Your polite smile never faltering. 

You look up to the silver embedded man, waiting for his remarks, but Lord Cazador’s voice hits your ears again, “And this is my vassal, Astarion.” 

“A privilege,” you nod again, this time towards Astarion. 

Your father claps his hands together, “Now that introductions have been made, let us get down to business.” His noble smile radiates off the golden walls of the Great Hall. One of power and prowess handed down by generations of aristocracy. 

Lord Szarr and my father, the commencers of this meeting, place themselves at the heads of the table, leaving their charges flanking their sides. A representation of hierarchy for both houses. 

Astarion’s incredibly handsome, pale face is a magnet to your eyes. The candles among the room do no justice for the beauty that emanates off his gods-crafted body. You shake your head out of the daze caused by the young lord, bringing your attention back to your studies. 

After small talk of newly discovered gems across the vast lands of Faerûn, your father’s voice slowly died down and his gaze moved to you. “My child, why don’t you show Lord Ancunin our newly developed courtyard. He seemed very interested in our plant life.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He invited you to attend this meeting, why is he excusing you so quickly? His eyes narrow in command, his word becoming gospel in a matter of seconds. 

“Yes, Father.” You reply, bringing your eyes to Lord Ancunin’s, weaving an inviting gaze to his. 

Excusing yourself from Lord Szarr, you lead the younger noble to the low staircase leading to your favorite place in the estate. Quietly hating the fact that you are forced to share your personal escape to a mere stranger, you fold your hands behind your back to keep from clasping them in frustrated fists. 

“You know,” a low, sultry voice emanates from behind you, “your father is too hospitable of a man to allow me time with such a gracious host as yourself.” 

His words send shivers down your spine, like ice envelops the very syllables he pronounced. 

“My father is one for kindness, most certainly.” You state.

“And beautiful, too.” Lord Ancunin adds. 

You look over your shoulder playfully, not thinking about your words before you say them, “I guess you could say my father is beautiful, as well.” 

The lord scoffs, yet a small grin climbs his face, “That is not what I meant.” 

A small laugh escapes your lips at his annoyance and slight embarrassment. You lead him farther into the maze of hedges and flowers adorning the courtyard, audibly noting the plant species and ecosystems that inhabit the land. Lord Ancunin politely nods along to your words, letting a sarcastic or snarky remark slip into the air. 

You finally approach the center of the moonlit stage. A large pool sits cradling dark water adorned with lilies and leaves that fell from the trees. You take a seat on the dark stone edges, weaving your fingers through the small ripples. 

“You do have a breathtaking estate,” Lord Ancunin states looking up through the trees. Your ears perk at his words, bringing your attending to his structured face. “Not as breathtaking as you.” His fingers grab your chin, raking his gaze across your eyes. 

His movements are unexpected, you were not trained for this sort of reaction. “Oh-” was the only sound that came to your voice. 

His smugness is infuriating. You aren’t even supposed to be entertaining the lord. You’re supposed to be at your father’s side, learning of business dealings and further establishing your role in the industry. 

You plaster another polite smile to your face and stand, “Well, thank you, my lord. Now, I believe we should be getting back to our meeting.” 

“Oh, I much prefer this meeting instead.” His body moves in front of yours, blocking the path back to the manor. 

A slight blush dons your cheeks, “You’re very kind, Lord Ancunin -”

“Please,” he purrs, “Call me Astarion.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips, “My apologies, Astarion, but I do believe we should-” 

“Now, now, running away so quickly?” His hands raise to block any further movements, “I was hoping you would grace my presence longer. The night is young and so are we.” 

You would much rather accompany the lord for the rest of the evening instead of listening to your father’s droning voice, however, Astarion leaves you flustered and feigning for his smile. No prestigious noble, especially one trying to close what appears to be an important deal, should act as such. 

He can see the indecision racing through your thoughts, “I insist.” He purrs again. 

Your stomach flips with the sound, and you nod without further thought. Leading him through the winding trails and hallways of the Ravenshade manor, you and Astarion share bouts of riveting conversation ranging from your travels among the shores of Faerûn to his duties as a former magistrate of the city. While his explanations of his life are rather vague, you still enjoy hearing his boisterous laugh and dramatic retellings of his days in court. You find that your interests in history and literature align with his, while he has a more in-depth understanding of the writings, leaving you once again speechless with his words.

“You are a very interesting person, Astarion.” You state after controlling a laugh. 

“As are you, darling.” His voice sounds like an icy breath against your garments. His endearment racing through your body, silently wishing for him to use it again. 

Your heart aches for the end of the evening. You can hear Lord Szarr and your father exchanging farewells, and you know that the young lord will have to follow. Your eyes gaze into his. The crimson nearly bleeds into a gorgeous sunrise like the one you hope never comes, for it means the dawn of a day without Astarion’s voice. A sense of curiosity and sadness fills your chest, knowing you may never be able to see his eyes or pull a smile from him again. 

“Thank you for a wonderful night.” His sultry voice appears in your ears again. 

“Of course, thank you for joining me.” Keep it poise. Keep it polite. 

“Ah!” A boom shakes the walls of the hallway adorned with portraits. “I do expect you two had an eventful night?” 

“Yes, Lord Ravenshade.” The young lord’s smile radiates. “I do so deeply appreciate the time spent with your heir.” 

“Well, we appreciate yours and Lord Szarr’s visit to our esteemed home.” 

The pleasantries are excruciating compared to the words you and Astarion exchanged for the past few hours. 

“I do hope you will consider my proposal, Lord Ravenshade.” Cazador’s sharp words slither across my shoulder and to my ears. 

“I will.” So simply stated, so ingenuine. 

“Then farewell.” Cazador states, extending a hand for Astarion to follow. 

His eyes linger against yours. The same resistance, the same want to stay and speak of literature and life until the sun rises, but alas, our master’s take their leaves. 

—---

The Swordcoast sun is sweltering. How is Shadowheart able to meander amongst the sand in a full set of armor. Your sweat blinds your vision in a simple cotton garment. 

A call for help brings your and Shadowheart’s attention to a clearing off the path. “Hurry, I've got one of those 'brain things' cornered.” 

Your steps are too quick, needing to extinguish the overall anger coursing through your body at the thought of the illithid ship and the nasty bug moving around in your head. Before your senses come back to reality, your back hits the ground and a knife grazes your neck. 

“Shh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”

“As are you, darling.” 

Your eyes widen. The pale skin of the arm threatening to slice your throat is familiar. The scent wafting off the figure fills your nose and brings you back to a moonlit night of stories and laughter. 

“Astarion,” you whisper, fighting against the figure. 

His movements halt, as if realization washes across him as well. His hold loosens allowing you time to quickly move away. Familiar crimson eyes land on yours. 

“Oh, thank the gods, a breathtakingly familiar face.” The sultry smile growing across his face, “Is your father still as beautiful as I remember?”

[by-glass-and-waves]

Yeah so here's the stuff I recently doodled for my unfinished chapter of The Courtship of the God of Death, aka spoilers for what is essentially the entire chapter however keep in mind the details may change between this and the final version. I've finally figured out the content of the conversation, now it's just mixing in the draft for the beginning of the chapter, refining the dialogue and adding all that signature brooding Narinder point of view to it. And writing it. That's important.

Spoilers ahead for the chapter + transcribed the text because handwriting and sequence is all over the place

So each number in the text corresponds to the panel-not-panel because yeah that looks like spaghetti

Shamura: (rising from the waters of the fountain, the hands of the dead trying to pull them back under) Dearest brother, are you so lonely that you call upon those you cast away?

Narinder: Hmf! Be not foolish, Shamura.

Narinder: Do you not wish to learn of my exploits?

Narinder: How sweet victory tastes, and I am no less deserving of it now as I was on the day of my liberation.

Narinder: How proud you must be, having foreseen my victory.

Narinder: A pity your shortsightedness denied you and the other Bishops the opportunity to experience this New Age.

Shamura: Oh, pitiful God of Death—my dear brother Narinder, who waited so long—you claim satisfaction, though I find myself uncertain of your sincerity.

Shamura: Never did I see your fate beyond our defeat at the hands of your Lamb. Yet I fear your words are but a farce.

Shamura: You never found satisfaction no matter what you gained, poor Narinder. What perverted act of nature you committed rendered you incapable of it.

Shamura: What have you found that has finally granted that unattainable contentment?

Narinder: (slams hands onto the edges of the fountain to lean over Shamura, fingers curling into the stone)

Narinder: Freedom! Freedom from you! You and the rest of our ambitious siblings!

Narinder: How long was I held back by such complacency, such ignorance, especially from one such as yourself!

Narinder: (breathes)

Narinder: ...So, what say you, Bishop of Wisdom?

Shamura: ...

Shamura: Unchained One, were you offered the chance to return to that moment...

Shamura: ...would you still pay the price?

Narinder: ...

Narinder: You never understood. None of you understood.

Narinder: (leans in) What I discovered that day...Was what kind of God I truly was.

Narinder: I only wish that I wasted less effort on convincing the rest of you of my true potential! (accidentally labeled this 22 as well) Shamura: ...

Shamura: (raises one hand) Oh, dear distraught brother Narinder... (ok fml I can't draw hands but)

Shamura: (wraps hand around Narinder's fist) How I wish I did not discover that which foretold our doom that day./that which manifested within my mind's eye that dreadful day.

Shamura: Mayhap, we could have forged a different path.

Narinder: (sees their hands together)

Narinder: (stares, conflicted)

Narinder: (before pulling his hand away in rejection of his sibling's words)

Narinder: Begone from my sight, Shamura. No longer shall I entertain your conceit.

Shamura: (pulled back under) Farewell, brother. Narinder: (stands)

Narinder: (looks at his hand)

Narinder: (then drops it, staring into the water)

And here is part two, didn't write dialogue however it's supposed to be another/similar version of the conversation, except more...malicious:

So just the text I had there 2: maybe Shamura should start rotting in this sequence? 3: appears as though they are rising out of the water, their hand reaching out 4: attempting to figure out how to look afraid/angry (?) 5: moves to grab 6: throws into the water 7: breathing heavily after in an attempt to calm down

Additional posts regarding this chapter: that which I wrote months ago and the other doodle related to it and that other other doodle

[stupidphototricks]

Philosophy in Small Gods:

"I'd like a Number Nine pot and some string, please," said the old man. "Yes sir, Mr. Legibus." The potter reached under his counter and pulled out a towel. The naked man took it in an absent-minded way. Brutha got the feeling that this had happened to both of them before. "And a level of infinite length and, um, an immovable place to stand," said Legibus, drying himself off. "What you see is what I got, sir. Pots and general household items, but a bit short on axiomatic mechanisms." -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

"If you spend your whole time thinking about the universe, you tend to forget the less important bits of it. Like your pants. And ninety-nine out of a hundred ideas they come up with are totally useless." "Why doesn't anyone lock them away safely, then? They don't sound much use to me," said Brutha. "Because the hundredth idea," said Om, "is generally a humdinger." -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

Brutha looked panicky. "How do I find a philosopher?" he said. "Around here? Throw a brick, I should think." -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

The one called Xeno stepped forward, adjusting the hang of his toga. "That's right," he said. "We're philosophers. We think, therefore we am." "Are," said the luckless paradox manufacturer automatically. Xeno spun around. "I've just about had it up to here with you, Ibid!" he roared. He turned back to Brutha. "We are, therefore we am," he said confidently. "That's it." Several of the philosophers looked at one another with interest. "That's actually quite interesting," one said. "The evidence of our existence is the fact of our existence, is that what you're saying?" "Shut up," said Xeno, without looking around. -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

Other philosophers asked questions like: Is Truth Beauty, and is Beauty Truth? and: Is Reality Created by the Observer? But Didactylos posed the famous philosophical conundrum: "Yes, But What's It Really All About, Then, When You Get Right Down To It, I Mean Really!" -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

(I've said it before but this is very Douglas Adams coded)

DIDACTYLOS and Nephew Practical Philosophers No Proposition Too Large "We Can Do Your Thinking For You" Special Rates after 6 pm Fresh Axioms Every Day -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

"Wisdom of the ages, this," said Didactylos. "Got to write a book, see, to prove you're a philosopher. Then you get your scroll and free official philosopher's loofah." -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

"But is all this true?" said Brutha. Didactylos shrugged. "Could be. Could be. We are here and it is now. The way I see it is, after that, everything tends towards guesswork." -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

"You can't believe in Great A'Tuin," he said. "Great A'Tuin exists. There's no point in believing in things that exist." "Someone's put up their hand," said Urn. "Yes?" "Sir, surely only things that exist are worth believing in?" said the enquirer, who was wearing a uniform of a sergeant of the Holy Guard. "If they exist, you don't have to believe in them," said Didactylos. "They just are." -- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

[luminarystag]

Wand Analysis: Hermione Granger

Welcome to my wand analysis series, where we look at each of the main character’s wands and analyze what this says about their character. The wand chooses the wizard, but why does it each wand choose the wizard they choose?

Our first character is Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age herself. Her wand is a vine wood with a dragon heartstring core

Vine Wood

My first source is the Wizarding World website itself. What does the most important source say about vine wands:

Immediately, we see multiple connections to Hermione as she is in the books. She seeks a greater purpose through S.P.E.W, she wants to make lasting societal change that helps an oppressed group. She also have a vision beyond the ordinary and astounds Harry and Ron with her intellect on multiple occasions, such as when she hexed the parchment the DA members signed so if any of them betrayed the DA, they’d get pimples that spell “sneak”, or when Xenophilous Lovegoode tried to hand them over to the Death Eaters, Hermione realized they need to see Harry and hide Ron to protect the Weasley’s and so that they wouldn’t kill Luna, who is a captive at that point. Hermione also has hidden depths, on the surface she’s a know it all who has to be at the top of the class, but is also a good friend who helps her friends with classes and genuinely wants to do well in her classes

Also, here we see the Wizarding World directly reference the druids and their worship of trees, so let’s look at what the druids had to say about vines

So here we see both things that apply to Hermione, and things that do not, such as being “gentle.” I love Hermione, but she kidnapped someone for writing articles about her and her friends, and sent birds after Ron for kissing another girl when they weren’t even dating. Not to mention permanently scarring another student, and then attacking Ron again when he returned after the horcrux hunt. Sure, you can make the argument she was justified in these actions, but it still doesn’t make her gentle. She also obviously is highly ambitious, wanting to be at the top of every class, and wanting to make lasting societal change

However, aside from that I think this is pretty spot on. Hermione is “discriminating” in having pretty good judgement, not perfect, but pretty good most of the time (I don’t think means she discriminates against other people, but obviously if it did, this would belong in the not applying to Hermione section). She is very authoritative, wanting people to listen to her and follow her rules constantly, and she does set high personal standards obviously, she was disappointed she didn’t get all O’s on her O.W.L’s. I also agree that she appears cool and detached, she appears to just be someone who wants to be the best at school, but she is also willing to help others at school and gets emotional rather easily, especially when insulted. I also agree she can have a dual personality, there are times she is fine one second and running out the room crying the next

Now that we’ve covered the symbolism and meaning of her having a vine wood, now let’s look at the core, which is a dragon heartstring

Dragon Core:

This is straight from the Wizarding World website. Again, we see some immediate connections to Hermione. She learns the fastest of the trio, and she definitely does the most morally questionable acts of the trio, as described above with her kidnapping and permanently scarring enemies, and even attacking her friends when she’s mad at them (easiest to turn to the Dark Arts)

Let’s see what else dragons tend to symbolize

All of this can be connected to Hermione. Let’s look: many people think Hermione is the most powerful of the trio; she got the most O.W.L’s, is the fastest to learn magic, and does magic above their grade level. She’s also full of wisdom. Again, she reads above their current grade level and studies so much that she knows all the material like the back of her hand. She also can be connected to protection: by the series’ end you could make the argument she’s Harry’s biggest protector. She is the only character who not only protects him in all 7 books (characters like Sirius, James, and Lily aren’t in all of the books), but she also never leaves his side in all the books. She is also a protector of the oppressed in the Wizarding World, being a member of the DA and the Order. She also transforms through her friendship with Harry, realizing there’s more important things than books and cleverness and becoming a warmer character every book due to her friendship with him. And she definitely brings good luck: there’s a reason some people think Harry and Ron would’ve died without her!

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

*Omegaverse Dr. Ketterley voice*

It's important to me that you understand that I'm NOT a sex pervert and I'm NOT doing it on purpose. I'm trapping people in the labyrinth FOR SCIENCE. I do NOT get any sense of sexual gratification from it. That's part of the reason I don't trap women in the labyrinth, I don't want them to think I'm doing it for sex reasons, I want them to know they're an essential part of my scientific research and personal preference has no part of it. I need to have someone in the labyrinth studying its effects in a way that I simply can't do if I'm going to continue my research due to its amnesic effects. So I pick what I think are male betas and throw them in the labyrinth without access to their medication and suddenly they go into heat because they're omegas and listen I'm NOT enjoying this. It's happened TWICE now and I HATE IT. It's not on purpose. I know this makes me look like some kind of freak who loves to keep omegas trapped in my basement so I can fuck them and that's NOT WHAT IS HAPPENING this is FOR SCIENCE. I don't even like men. I'm not even fucking the omegas. I give them sleeping pills when they go into heat so they can just sleep it off without causing undue stress to either of us and when they're back to normal I continue my research on the labyrinth. They're my research assistants and I'm not fucking them I swear to God I'm not fucking them. I'm NOT like Lawrence oh my God. I thought I'd care less about this considering that I've killed three people at this point but it's the principal of the thing! Some lives unfortunately may be lost in search of the Great and Secret Knowledge but that's just an unfortunate casualty of regaining lost wisdom of ages past. It's morally complicated and I understand many people may not agree with me in this respect but you know what it ISN'T about. It's NOT a sex thing. I'm not a sex freak. I'm not a sex freak