#maybe I'd be coping better

[angeltism]

I don't even know what to think. I'm trying so fucking desperately to convince myself that I mattered, and yet, what happened didn't. I swear to god it's like I'm on my knees crying begging for another fucking chance to talk, to explain, when I realistically know nothing was going to change. I don't know what I want all I know is this fucking sucks. I want to convince myself I meant nothing, it's so easy to be angry that way and put the blame onto a single thing. It'd be so easy to just say I was never loved, never cared about anyways, and that's why it didn't work. That's why I had to hurt so much. But that's an accusation that would have no facts behind it. All the facts point to "you tried, you both did, nothing you can do" but that. That hurts. Plus, if I did mean something, why did most of my unhappiness have to happen anyways? If I mattered then it should have been enough, right? Then 50% of the pain I had would have not even existed, right? If I just. Mattered enough. But I don't. I never have. But then again, isn't it heartless to make such accusations? Just claiming that despite all the trying that was obviously done, it wasn't enough to make me feel loved? Then that kinda reverses this, so I'm no longer the person who "wasn't enough", and that isn't what I want to convey. I don't want others to feel that way. Ugh. Random words, provided by yours truly while I am shaking and trying not to cry because life is so fucking confusing. Yay!

I guess part of me just wants to know that it wasn't one-sided ?

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the reason that MTMTE remains the most defining, influential, and loved series in the IDW1 run is fundamentally because, despite its many flaws, MTMTE has the power to make you think and wonder about the world beyond what's shown on the page. The character relationships are so strongly developed that it's easy to care about the characters and easy to imagine further adventures they could go on. While the myriad dropped plotlines, underwritten/underutilized characters, and worldbuilding with weird implications are all fucking maddening at times... even if it makes you mad, MTMTE makes you mad because you care and it makes you want to immerse yourself into a world that feels like it's real beyond what's explicitly shown to you on the page. It's a sandbox of a story where there's so much fertile ground for pretty much anyone with any preferred character archetype, storyline, etc to dig in.

It's just... immersive. That's the best way I can put it. It feels like it could be real and it makes you want to spend more time in it than the constraints JRO had. It makes you want to know more about it and come up with theories on how/why things function or happen the way they do. That's why it's loved and that's why it's the best series in IDW1.

[iamthemaestro]

I need to stop romanticizing careers I am not mentally stable enough to maintain

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

..

[desperatepleasures]

since I don't sell much through my Actual Website I'm thinking of switching to a cheaper platform and just like using pa*ypal invoices or something when someone wants to buy from me directly...idk I make almost 90% of my sales thru et*sy so even tho they are Evil I wanna keep my shop active there bc it's essentially free marketing vs me having to promote my website. and since I don't have the time or energy to get serious about my website anymore I think I need to find a solution where I'm not flushing money down the toilet

[safyresky]

Winter's Rage Room

(aka, In Which Winter Invents the First Rage Room)

"What are you wearing?"

"Winter, you're not gonna believe this," Blaise said, turning on his heel excitedly. "It TURNS OUT when you let the royal tailor use her gift of future sight when making clothes, you get some really snazzy options. I mean look at this thing!" He said, whooshing his blazer out with an almost childish grin. "You love it, right?"

"You look sharp," she said, hopping down from the smooth, marble banister of town hall. She peeped up at him, smoothing the material on his shoulders. "And very attractive," Winter said, smiling when he flushed, a few sparks popping off of his fiery head.

"Don't think I haven't noticed your legs," he said, low, his breath warm on her forehead. "I see that you've also visited Sabine. What are you wearing?"

"She calls it a flapper dress," Winter said with a grin. "And I quite like it! It’s nothing like my usual cozy warm layers of skirts, but I thought it would be a fun change of pace. I mean, it’s not like the cold actually bothers me. And I was right! I feel fabulous. Look at the skirt! It's asymmetrical. And all of these beads!" She said, gleeful, plucking at one of several clicking necklaces hanging down her neck. "And it takes well to frost," she added, grabbing the skirt and pulling it out a bit. The frost she had added to the dress glinted blue in the sunlight.

"It looks great," Blaise said, admiring her. "You look great."

"Oh, stop it you," she said, with a little bit of pomp and a look that said actually, don't stop it, I quite like being fawned over.

"I will not," Blaise said.

"Good," Winter said, sizing him up. "So why red? It's not really your colour," she finished, finger on her chin.

"I know. I was impatient, and red was what she had on hand. There is an orange one in the works, though! And the shirt is orange too. I made do. But anyway, watch this. You're gonna love this. Ready?"

Winter blinked. "Sure."

Blaise's brow furrowed in concentration. The temperature went up quite a bit; and with a crack and a pop, the red of Blaise's blazer (ha) began to fissure, glowing a bright orange through the cracks.

"Ta-da!"

"Did you just lava your clothing?"

"Technically it's below the crust, so I think it's more magma right now, but yes! I did!" He said, fists on his hips, looking very proud of himself.

Winter giggled. Gently, she raised her hand, glowing white with her wintry magic, and touched a section of his jacket. It froze instantly, turning dark blue very briefly. There was a hiss, and a pop, and the ice melted off, the lava once more glowing on the jacket.

"Oh, that's rather fun, isn't it?"

Blaise threw his head back and laughed. "For you I imagine it's oodles of fun," he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. Pants that were tapered and fit well! No baggy pants covered by tunics, or worse, TIGHTS. No tippets, no boots (though he didn't mind boots all too much), his hair on FIRE and NOBODY telling him to put it out or else! "It's amazing, the things Sabine is creating," he said, starting forward again. "That everyone is creating. Together."

The town square buzzed. The magibeans looked so happy. They waved as Blaise walked by, sharing pleasantries and chattering amongst themselves. They were a colourful bunch; sprites with their hair elementally charged, giants in suits, a few fae breezing by in loose clothes that seemed to be one large swath of breezy material folded over itself creatively to create flowing, gorgeous, robe like gowns. Dwarves were taking kindly to a thing Sabine said were called jeans, excited at the prospect of a tough material to withstand the tough stuff they did—and that was just a smattering of the fashions that had begun to spring up all around the country.

Some magibeans carried various building supplies towards the hall; others rushed towards the shops with brightly coloured buckets of paint, chattering excitedly about how they were going to customize their storefronts, now that they could. Dryads and centaurs planted the most colourful assortment of plants you ever did see. Cobblestones were slowly being laid down, colourful as can be, the mist from the springs sparkling in the afternoon sun as it drifted through the city.

A weight, that the entire continent did not know it had been carrying, had been lifted. They could all breath again.

"You should see what my sisters have been doing in the new provinces," Winter said, following beside Blaise, her hands behind her back as she nodded politely at the magibeans walking by. Her head roamed back and forth slowly as she admired all the changes they had made since she had last come by to bother her partner after work. "Have you been south west yet?"

"No, not lately."

"Well, Spring and Summer have worked wonders on the border between those two provinces. The groves, the orchards, the fruit trees, the vines! Oh Blaise, it's gorgeous. And it's all over, too! The farmland in the east is suddenly flourishing; Autumn is beside herself with happiness! The scab is still scabbed, of course, but everything everywhere else is healthy and happy. Mother says that almost all of the vegetation on the continent seems to be flourishing, as are the people. Everyone is growing together. I'd almost say the entire continent is sparkling like it's a brand-new place. The Springs especially look as glittery as I have ever seen them. And we all have you to thank for that."

Blaise chuckled. "Well, it’s not just me. There’s a whole team of magibeans getting things in order. And…all of this? Well, it's the right thing to do," he said.

"Yes! It is! So why are you so sad?"

"Sad? I'm not. I'm not sad."

"Yes you are. I am very good at seeing sads, Mister Frost. I am an expert, after all."

Blaise stopped, glancing down at his feet, his face darkening. Winter stopped beside him, watching him carefully.

"They forbade her from using her future sight when working. Did you know that?" Blaise finally said, looking up in the distance at the springs.

"Oh."

"Queen Frost apparently had a certain aesthetic she wanted to keep to, and she made sure it was enforced." He huffed, steam coming out of his nose.

Gently, Winter grabbed his arm, hugging it tightly. She felt his muscles flex in her little arm embrace. She squeezed back.

"It seems there's quite a bit to unpack there."

"Not really. Queen Frost was always just. Like that," he said with a shrug, Winter releasing her hold on his arm. She rested her hands in the crook of his elbow, looking up at him. "What more is there to unpack?"

"Do you ever think about yourself, Blaise?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean," Winter said, letting go and stepping in front of him, a little hill of snow happy to come into existence and give her a boost so she could stare directly into his eyes. "You put everyone first," she said, smoothing the round lapels on his jacket. "Everyone. But what about yourself? When do you have time for yourself?"

"When I'm with you," he said, gently caressing her face.

"Oh please," she replied with an eye roll, gently taking his hand off of her cheek and holding it in hers. "We both know that you always put me first."

"I thought you liked being the centre of attention," Blaise teased.

Winter laughed. "Pish posh. I like attention, yes, but I like you even more," she said, booping his nose. "And that's why I waited for you after work today! I am taking you on a date," she said, confidently, crossing her arms with a satisfied smile.

"Oh really?"

"Yes," she insisted. "I even dressed for the occasion," she reminded him, readjusting her arms to make sure all the bracelets she was wearing clinked.

Blaise smirked. With a tap of his foot, the snow below Winter melted.

Her smug exterior dropped; with a cute little meep, she found herself stepping down rather forcefully. She grimaced, already dreading the horrid feeling in her ankles that would rattle around for a bit when she hit the ground.

But, before she could even brace for impact, Winter was suddenly engulfed by a pair of very warm arms right around her waist, and pulled forward. Unscrupulously twirled about, she found herself pressed into Blaise's just as warm chest. She looked up, ready to bite, Blaise's bemused look stopping her in her tracks.

"I'm sorry, was that a-did you just meep?!"

"You melted my snow step!" She said, flustered.

"That was the cutest sound I've ever heard!"

"Blaise, my snow step!" she said with a cute little pout.

"Gods above. That meep could soften the hardest of hearts!"

Pouting, Winter squirmed, pulling herself up and seating herself on Blaise's forearms. He adjusted accordingly, supporting her as best as he could while trying not to think of her...well. Butt. Her butt.

She crossed her arms, still pouting. "I'm trying to be all suave, like you usually are, and you are making it very hard to do so!"

"You think I'm suave?" Blaise asked, genuinely.

"I think you are many things," Winter replied, her gaze softening. "And suave is one of them. Smooth, too. And sculpted. And sweet and kind and caring and also, very annoying. That poor snow step never did anything to you!"

Blaise chuckled. "It got in my way of you," he said, placing her down gently.

She cleared her throat, flushed, and dusted off her dress. "Now then. May I continue?"

"Go right ahead," Blaise said with a wave, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"Great, perfect, thank you." She shook her arms, the beads and bangles clinking back into place. "You look out for everyone, but I don't think you look out for yourself much. This latest undertaking of yours has been lovely! Very lovely. Look at how this world is breathing now! There's so much colour, and laughter, and freedom...but I'm sure it's been bringing up all sorts of feelings for you, and I have just the thing for processing them," she said, excitement lighting up her delicate little features.

Blaise looked down at his shoes, thoughtful. Dismantling the monarchy and the, frankly, insane rules they had enforced had been a very long road. A century in and they had barely scratched the surface; eager to breath new life into the city, Blaise and Mother Nature had decided to tackle the "etiquette" rules, for lack of a better term. The governors of the new provinces had agreed, and things were going swimmingly.

But Winter was right, though Blaise didn't want to say it. Saying it would make it all real, and he didn't think he could weather the emotions all of that would bring up. The LAST thing he needed was his political career tarnished by an angry outburst when it had only just started.

"How did you know?”

"Your shoulders," Winter said, tilting her head. "They're more squared up, as of late. And you've been clenching your jaw. And all of you is so tense. I mean, you are rather muscular—"

"Oh ho ho, am I now?"

"Shut up," Winter said, flushing and looking away.

"Muscular, sculpted—"

"Annoying," Winter reminded him, still looking away.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll...tone it down a notch."

"Not stopping, though?"

"Nope! Never."

Winter laughed. "Good. I like when you tease. Just not when I'm trying to be very very nice to you!"

"You're always very very nice to me."

"Well. You're worth it," Winter said with a little shrug.

Now it was Blaise's turn to flush and look away. He cleared his throat. Winter rubbed her arm. They glanced back at one another; opened up their mouths to speak. Realized the other was speaking. Laughed.

"You, uh, had something in mind?"

"Mhmm," Winter said, nodding a little too fast, fingers pressed together. "Come along with me?" she asked, holding out a hand.

"Always," Blaise replied, grabbing it.

"Excellent!" And, with strength he had no idea the season possessed, Blaise was dragged away from town, towards the North.

---

"So I started doing this thing, many many centuries ago," Winter began, running alongside the trees, dragging Blaise behind her, “when it all became too much," she finished. She stopped briefly, glancing around the snowy paths in the foothills, pulling Blaise along once more when she found the path she was looking for. "Though I barely recall it now, it was very hard after the Call to go from the life I knew to the life I have now."

Blaise tugged her hand, stopping her in her tracks. Squeezing it, he looked at her softly. "What was it like?" he asked. "I never...things didn't change much for me at all after the Call. I can't imagine what it was like…would’ve been like...I kind of envied you and your sisters, in all honesty."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Blaise replied, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh. Well, you see what I've been doing. With everyone. And I've told you about my family. It's not that I don't love them, or anything. It's just. Not the same as what you have. I’ve always wanted that.”

"I can hardly blame you. Mother Nature is a wonderful mother, and I love all of my sisters dearly. Even Spring. I'd never consider them anything but. Nevertheless," she said, taking a careful step forward. "It was a hard adjustment to make, especially when you're so little and don't quite know what's going on."

"Tell me about it," Blaise said, genuinely, as they continued at a much more reasonable pace. "Please. That is, if it doesn't, ah. You know. Upset you, or. Or anything."

"Well, I can hardly recall them now, but I…I loved my parents. My mother was…she was as cold as her title, and she kept that cool facade up to everyone she interacted with. Except for my father. She let her guard down with him. He was rather silly," Winter said with a soft laugh. "My memories are so faint now, but I remember he'd do such silly dances, make such funny noises, and he'd have the most pointless spells at his disposal, that did nothing practical—but they made me laugh. They made her laugh. And I suppose for him, that was all he really needed.”

"He dressed silly too, if I recall correctly. I think he came to the castle more than once in slippers."

Winter laughed. "They were bunnies! With ears! The Snow Queen hated them. But I think that just made the Winter Warlock love them more! And I do believe that deep down, Bianca found everything he did endearing. Otherwise I'm sure she wouldn't have named me after him. It was nice, I think. I don't remember feeling not nice," Winter said with a thoughtful frown as the path twirled upwards, hand still clasped in his. "Not until after the Call."

She stopped walking, looking out at the valley below them. It sparkled in the sunlight, the snow fresh. The trees were weighed down with blankets of snow, bowing low to the ground as the wind whistled in that calm, peaceful way it did in the winter. Off in the distance, one of the four rivers that branched out from the Springs sparkled, ice chunks floating along it. Everything seemed so much more...beautiful, in the winter, Blaise thought, eyes settling on the top of her head.

"It was scary," she continued, taking a seat on the edge of the path. Gently, and quietly, Blaise sat beside her, squeezing her hand and paying full attention.

She smiled up at him, squeezing back. "Bianca carried me out of her castle so fast. Winter followed behind us. I remember watching the pink light hit our home, and the towers tumbled; my little room was gone in the blink of an eye. The pink light bounced off of everywhere. Winter hurried us along, but he couldn't keep up. Bianca tried to go back for him, but he wouldn't let her stop. It was the fastest goodbye I'd ever experienced with him. And the final one, to boot. Whoosh!" she said, lifting her hands. "Pink light engulfed him, and he was gone. Just like that." She sighed. "I hid in my mother's shawl the rest of the way."

"I'd be scared too, if I were you."

"Really? You'd be scared?"

"Uh, yeah. What, do you think I don't get scared?"

Winter tilted her head, surveying him with a mix of curiosity and thoughtfulness, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to hold back a smile, eyes alight with mischief. "Perhaps," she finally said, the grin peeking out.

Blaise laughed. "I've been scared before! Plenty of times! Honest!"

"I'm not so sure I believe you," Winter said. "But we'll dig into that later."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you can't wait to tear me apart, but not in a fun way! In a sort of I need to study you kind of way."

"Is that not fun?"

"Well, I don't know! I'm the one being studied! And not in the fun way!"

"Which is?"

"Y-you know," Blaise said, blushing. "Your place or mine? Let me get a closer look at your face? With my whole face? That sorta thing?"

Winter choked back a laugh, a hand covering her mouth, her face fast turning red. "Blaise! You absolute scoundrel."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment!"

"I take them as I go," he teased, squeezing her hand.

"Don't worry, darling. I'm not going to dissect you. As much as I love all your muscles, I quite miss the soft bits that are around when you're not holding a ton of tension in your everything."

Blaise sighed. "I know you do. So do I,” he admitted, scooting closer to her. Finding comfort in the cold press of her skin against him. “What happened next?”

"Hmm?"

"After your dad..."

"Oh! Right! Well, my mother brought me to the little hideaway they made for me, to keep me safe. You know, just in case. And she made sure I was cozy and set for the long term and, well, the Call caught up to us. She gave me a kiss, a smile, and uttered last words I don't remember because that's when it took her, too,” she said with a sigh, laying her head on his shoulder. “I was alone. And of course, after that, when the sky turned back to stars and the pink was gone, I wandered. Went back home—it was gone. Wasn't sure what to do until Summer started melting all the snow. Their snow, that I had watched them place down together. Helped them with, even. It was very upsetting, and I stopped Summer in her tracks and told her so right then and there! Her reply? ‘Oh snap! I found you! Let’s get going!’ And she brought me home to Tara and the other seasons, and now here I am, quite happy with Mother Nature and my sisters."

"But between that?"

"I was very unhappy. It was the very first time I ever experienced a frozen heart," she said. "I was sad. Sad that my parents were gone. I'd never see them again. And I resented them for it, the older I got. I was so sad, and post thaw I was so upset and angry, so...I found an outlet for it," she said, hopping up. “And that’s why we’re here!”

She stepped into the air, almost falling before ice formed just below her foot, stretching down the mountain. “Race you, hotshot,” she said, and down she went. "Try to keep up!" she shouted back, as she formed ice path after ice path, zig zagging down the mountainside.

Blaise grinned. He hopped up, took a few steps back and, with a running start, jumped, landing on the ice and sliding down just as fast as Winter. The pair laughed, twirling around one another until they landed in the valley, clothes dishevelled, hair windswept, and faces flushed.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine! I do this all the time! I’m the professional." Winter said. "Oop! Careful dear, it's slippery," she added, grabbing Blaise's arms.

"I'm good, I'm good," Blaise said, steadying himself and looking out at the wide valley before them, clinging to her forearms. "It's beautiful," he said, breathlessly.

"I know! I do great work and all anyone ever does is complain about how cold it is. Where's the respect for a season, hmm? My sisters don't get half the sleet I get!" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, while the view is lovely as I do quite the amazing job, that's not why I brought you all the way out here. Watch," she said, placing a finger up in the air before Blaise could speak.

He let go of her arms, holding his up in surrender. Stepping back a pace or two, he gestured Winter forwards with a hand.

A grin, an absolutely feral grin that Blaise adored (he loved how unhinged she could be) slowly spread across her face. He stepped back again for good measure, watching as Winter cracked her knuckles, tilted her head side to side (cracks coming from her neck), and turned around, facing the pristine valley.

She stuck her arms out to her side, her fingers outstretched. She bent down a bit, her legs wide in the snow. She inhaled; held it, then exhaled. Her fingers curled in, hands glowing, and the ground below her began to shake.

The rumbling grew louder; the shaking stretched out farther and farther, until the snow all over the valley was bouncing around, the undisturbed blanket of white splitting.

There was a crack, and a shink; then another, and another, until the valley was echoing with low thrums and hums, and up Winter’s arms went, the snow exploding below her as giant pillars of ice burst out of the ground. They intersected with each other, tall and crooked, some forming arches with one another, others nearly colliding as they stopped moving, settling in their new places. Snow gently fell off the tops of the pillars, landing on the ground with multiple muffled plonks.

Winter turned around. "Ta-da!" she said, presenting the handywork.

"Look at that. Wow," Blaise said, with a low whistle.

"I know. I'm a gift to magibean kind and so underappreciated in my time."

"Not by me you're not," Blaise said, kissing the top of her head, and gazing over her at the mess of icy stalagmites, chin resting on her head, her shoulders trapped in a hug.

"So. Ah. An outlet, eh?"

"Big time," Winter said, squirming out of Blaise's embrace. "Watch and learn, hotshot," she said, skipping into the minefield. "I'd come out here, and I'd think of everything that had happened. I'd think of how rude it was that my parents just left me alone, how AWFUL it was, how they couldn't just say no to all of the stupid fae and their different factions and their dumb war, and I'd get all worked up and then, BAM," she said, with a flawless roundhouse kick into the nearest ice block. It cracked. "And then again," she said, kicking it with her other leg. The fractures deepened. "And then I'd finish them," she said, pressing her hands together and driving them right into the middle of the fracture.

In seconds, the ice shattered, fractals falling down to the ground. The top of the pillar came crashing down, shattering the little icicles that remained until it all fell into a heap, icy dust fanning out from the impact zone.

"Oh wow," Blaise said, his hair, embarrassingly, briefly flickering. He cleared his throat. "Is that how you got all, you know," he said, gesturing to Winter. "Slushy again?"

"Not at all. It's how I processed things," she said, grabbing the ends of his jacket and pulling him closer. "The slush was thanks to you," she said, booping his nose with hers and hopping backwards, leaving Blaise significantly flustered. She grinned.

"Oh," Blaise finally said, a goofy grin splitting his face. "Oh wow."

"So now it's your turn!"

"My-what? My turn? For what?"

"Property damage!" Winter said, chipper. "And I know just where to start," she said, pushing him towards the closest slab of ice. "Sabine."

"Sabine?"

"Yes. Royal tailor, gifted with foresight and forbidden to use it."

Blaise's face darkened again.

"Ou, yes, there we go. Tell me about that," Winter said, hopping up and sitting in the air, a pile of snow twirling up to meet her halfway.

Blaise placed a hand on the pillar in front of him, flat. He frowned at his reflection, looking away. He cleared his throat. "My brother and I were always held to such impossible standards. Exactly the same ones, too. And if I did something wrong, he got the blame for it too. And vice versa, though the former happened a lot more than the latter. And it’s not like I was doing anything wrong!” he said, smacking the ice below him. “I was just trying to be my own person, but goddess forbid I didn’t act exactly like my twin.”

“And then Sabine…”

“Yeah! The fuck!” Blaise finally said, the source of all magic choosing to ignore the swears sure to continue coming from this section of the country. “I thought it was just Pyros and I that had to keep up appearances,” he began, pacing back and forth, hands waving about as he spoke. “But apparently it WASN’T just us! It was almost the entirety of the royal court! And I had no fucking clue!” he said, a flaming kick shattering the icy pillar in front of him.

Blaise blinked, watching the pieces melt into the snow.

“Huh. That did feel kind of good.”

“Right?!” Winter said from her perch in the snow. “Keep going darling. The field’s yours.”

“Finding out everything my parents banned or forbade unnecessarily has been exhausting,” Blaise continued, pulling his hands down his face. “Sabine not being allowed to use her sight? Tip of the iceberg! Dave wasn’t allowed to float because goddess above forbid he appear higher than the King! And! Queen!” he said, both titles punctuated with a flaming punch, whoosh, CRACK, pop-pop-pop to the next pillar, the ice melting quickly and collapsing in on itself. “All sorts of magibeans employed within the castle weren’t allowed to do ANYTHING!” A hot slice through the air, the pillar beside him split in half, falling down on its now severed bottom half with a smack. It slid down to the ground slowly, in an almost comical fashion, landing on its side in the snow. “There was NO intermingling between stations and levels, no talking to the court unless they spoke to you first, and that was just within the castle walls, LADY of the Springs!”

One, two, three more icy pillars went down, the shards of ice hitting the snow with dulled thunks. Chest heaving, Blaise paused for a moment, back against a pillar as he focused on his breathing. “It was no way for anyone to live,” he said, quietly. “I know that because it’s how we were living! And just knowing that it wasn’t just us?” Blaise looked up. “It’s infuriating.”

Behind him, the pillar he was leaning on started to crack. It looked a bit shiny; wet. So did the ones beside it.

“How I was living,” Blaise realized. “Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he said, straightening up. “Pyros was fine with the way things were. I mean, you saw what he did! After I quit my studies, he just—he was fine. Just fine with the way they ran things. He saw no problems with it at all. But I did! But every time I spoke up or had a thought or reacted differently from Mom and Dad and my brother, it was an immediate lecture. That’s not how things work, they’d say. Or that’s just how it is. Or we do these things for good reasons. Like hell they did!”

He sprung off the slowly melting pillar really suddenly, his staff appearing in his hands. He stabbed it into the ground; it glowed brightly, and with a high-pitched squeal, a torrent of flames burst from the blue gem at the center, absolutely annihilating the pillars within its radius.

“Woo. Toasty,” Winter said, standing beside Blaise now. “I didn’t know staffs could do that!”

“They can do a LOT of things, when you’re actually allowed to experiment. Watch this,” Blaise said, pulling his staff out of the snow and giving it an exuberant (and definitely unnecessary) twirl. He grasped it by the base. The wood began to shift; slowly, it morphed, until it resembled a club.

“Oh, bravo!” Winter said, with a delighted little clap. “I bet you can’t get a hunk of ice across the valley.”

“Bet you I can,” Blaise said with a grin.

“Kisses if I win?”

“You mean when I win?”

“You can talk the talk, Mr. Frost, but can you hit the hit?”

“Isn’t it walk the walk?”

“Well, yes, but you will be hitting one of these lovely pillars, will you not?”

“Watch and learn, Ms. Winter.”

She stepped back, gesturing Blaise forward now.

With a grin, he hefted the bat staff in his hands, giving it a preemptive swing. Satisfied, he tightened his grip, and, bringing it as far back as he could, whacked the pillar in front of him.

It shattered; chunks of ice went flying. With another quick swing, Blaise hit one before it could fall. It went soaring across the valley. Shading his eyes with his hand, he watched as the chunk arced in the air, sunlight sparkling off it, before landing in a heap just before the riverbank.

“Boom,” he said.

Winter laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, face flushed. Blaise shifted his weight; he watched her fondly, his staff returning to its default form just in time for him to lean on it as he watched the season laugh. She exhaled, finally, flushing when she noticed him staring at her.

Briefly, she looked down, smiling very big at the snow for a moment before composing herself. She cleared her throat, glancing back at the fiery man she absolutely adored, and tilted her head. “I know that what your parents did wasn’t fair to any of the magibeans.”

“It wasn’t. And I just let it happen,” he admitted, kicking a piece of ice that had settled by his foot. “And it wasn’t just within the castle grounds. It was the entire continent; every subdivision, every noble under their charge, they all had to adhere to these impossible standards, stifling their very essences just to keep two, quite frankly, useless magibeans happy! And I just let it happen.”

“Oh, Blaise. You are so very silly.”

“Excuse me?”

“What could you have done? You were so young, and as much a victim as everyone else was,” she said, stepping closer. “It wasn’t fair to you, either,” she finished, resting her head on his chest.

She could feel him sigh, the weight finally falling off of his shoulders. “It wasn’t.”

“And nobody blames you, darling! Nobody. You were just trying to survive.”

Dismissing his staff, he grabbed Winter, pulling her in tightly. “I know,” he said, trying hard to keep the tears out of his voice. “I know.” He gave her one last squeeze before breaking the hug, his hands resting on her shoulders. “But it still wasn’t fair. And the worst is, you know, they had the ability to make things fair for everyone! But they didn’t,” he said, his face darkening, his hair burning higher.

“But you do,” Winter said with a soft smile. “And you are. And it’s most definitely going to be a very long road ahead, but you’re doing what you can now. It is enough. I know you don’t feel like it is,” she continued, shrugging his hands off of her shoulders and grabbing them in hers, “but it is. I promise. So you should stop beating yourself up about it all, alright? And instead, beat up all of this,” she said, gesturing with both her hands and his, towards the field of half melted ice pillars.

Blaise smiled, squeezing her hands tightly. “You are so good to me.”

“I know,” she said, with a silly little grin.

Blaise laughed, sweeping her right off of her feet and pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he said, quietly in her ear. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, pecking the side of his head (since that was what was closest to her). “I understand. And I’m here for you, Blaise. Always,” she said, giving him a little squeeze. “You don’t need to take responsibility for everything; you don’t deserve to. You deserve to treat yourself better.” She pulled back enough to look up at him and smile. “And you’re already working wonders, now that you no longer have to survive. Now that you have the opportunity to make a difference, and can make a difference, you are.”

“And everyone who can help is helping,” Blaise said. “It’s…nice.”

“It really is! We’ll all be okay, Blaise dear. You’ll be okay.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. And I’m always right,” she said, with utmost certainty. “Now then. Property damage?” she asked, gesturing out to the field of pillars.

“Property damage,” Blaise agreed, grabbing her hand. “Shall we go misplace a bunch of aggression?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, taking his hand and launching them both into the field.

---

Time passed; hours, minutes, neither really knew. Time practically stood still when they were together. And certainly it felt as though it was now, as they lay down face by face in the snow, surrounded by tiny little beads of half melted ice chips. The moon glowed in the sky, the stars sparkling brightly. The once smooth blanket of snow was well trodden, now, flattened to the ground and frozen solid in some places.  

They had collapsed together, catching their breath as the remnants of the last few pillars melted away, feeling a lot lighter now that they had exploded a ton of ice while venting about everything that had happened. A shooting star passed high above them, chests finally slowing down as the pair caught their breath.

“I believe someone owes me kisses?”

“Oh yes! I do, don’t I?” Winter said, springing right up and throwing herself on top of Blaise.

“Oof,” he said, reaching up and pulling her in close. “You take my breath away.”

“That’d be the body slam I just did,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose. And then his forehead. And then his cheek. And then the other cheek, and then any itty-bitty speck of space she could find on his face. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere.

Not that he minded, of course; he only minded when she stopped her onslaught.

“Excuse me. I was promised kisses? Plural?!”

Winter laughed, crossing her arms on his chest and leaning on them. “I am aware.”

Blaise quirked an eyebrow, throwing his hands behind his head and staring at her, suspiciously. She was plotting; he knew it. “Well, where are they?”

“Hmm. Good question! Either at your place, or mine, I should think,” she said.

“OH! Nice throwback,” he said.

“Thank you kindly,” she replied, watching as his brow furrowed in thought for but a moment.

“Yours is closer,” he decided, hair igniting as, with a devious smirk, he grabbed her around the waist, wasting no time whatsoever in poofing them right into the pile of blankets and plethora of pillows that covered her bed.

---

(The next morning, he found himself awoken by Summer’s very loud barge into Winter’s room. His fellow summer sprite���s eyes grew wide when she realized he was right beside Winter, and she screamed, excited.

“Ou, Winter! You go girl! Get it!”

“Get out get out get OUT!” Winter yelled, throwing a bunch of pillows at her sister.

Summer cackled, running right out of the room. “WAIT UNTIL I TELL SPRING AND AUTUMN!”

“DO NOT!” Winter yelled back, hopping out of the sheets and giving chase.

Blaise chuckled. He loved staying over at Winter’s place).

---

I started writing this a month ago?? According to my drafts??? I was coping with some HORRORS and using Blinter to do it. Finally finished it today! It is DELIGHTFUL and I am HOPING that the horrors that INSPIRED this are finally finished for now. Or at least getting better. RELATIONSHIPS ARE HARD, ESPESH WHEN UR PARTNER IS VERY BLAISE CODED AND HAVING A ROUGH GO OF IT AND YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY MAKE A GIANT FIELD OF ICE FOR THE BOTH OF YOU TO SMASH UP BUT GOD YOU WISH YOU COULD!

Anyway.

This is roughly a century or so after the War of Succession (Millennia War, Civil War, I've given it like 70 names lol). So they've been together for a hot (pun intended) minute! I imagine they get hitched shortly after this and, well, you know, this happens >:).

Enjoy the fluff!

[dracimexidae]

So yeah since Jasmine and Sara are out of the Finals 😢, I'm left with the BJK Cup and then i'm basically on vacation myself from tennis (as for the more engaged and "stressful" part of watching matches😝- honestly it's "exhausting" being a fan a pause is definitely needed phew 😮‍💨🤣)

[littletrumpetcat]

learning some unfortunate realities tonight

[snazum]

Working on a little (big) project, finally figured out the storyline I want to go with, that's all I'll say, it's called IYKYK. Literatly thats the project name, it might change but it's quite what it means. but if you don't know? That's okay too! I'm hoping to tell a compelling story anyways. This is probably gonna take a couple years to do though XD

If you are interested this is the playlist I'll be working with. Yes I'm planning on making video visuals for this project (I'd say animating but I'm gonna be using a bunch of different techniques, also animating is hard af and takes a long time and I'm not exactly an animator.) Also you get to learn a little bit of my music taste now XD

[nutelloona]

some nights I really wish my front door wasn't so fucking loud to open/close bc as much as I feel trapped and suffocated in my room on night like these, - and in my house in general, tiny apartments and all that crap that capitalism keeps blessing us with - dealing with questions or concern from my siblings is one of the most unbearable consequences I can picture

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[iwanthermidnightz]

When I think back on the Speak Now album, I get a lump in my throat. I have a feeling it will always be that way, because this period of time was so vibrantly aglow with the last light of the setting sun of my childhood. I made this album, completely self-written, between the ages of 18 and 20. I've spoken about how I feel like those ages are the most emotionally turbulent ones in a persons life. Maybe when I say that, I'm really just talking about myself.

I think they might just be the most idealistic, hopeful years too. At this point in my life, I had released my second album, Fearless. It became the breakthrough moment I'd always dreamt of, one that catapulted my career to new realms of success. It had brought with it a tidal wave of pressures and pitfalls and growing pains. All the while, I was encountering the milestones and checkpoints of normal teenage growth. I had cataclysmic crushes and brushes with heartache. I moved out of my parents' house and set my bags down in a new apartment. I hung photos on my own walls and decorated the space where I would sob and cackle and shatter and dream. Sometimes I felt like a grown up, but a lot of the time I just wanted to time travel back to my childhood bed, where my mom would read stories to me until I fell asleep.

In my darker moments, I was tormented by the doubt that swirled loudly around my ascent and my merits as an artist. I was trying to create a follow up to the most awarded country album in history, while staring directly into the face of intense criticism. I had been widely and publicly slammed for my singing voice and was first encountering the infuriating question that is unfortunately still lobbed at me to this day: does she really write her songs? Spoiler alert: I really, really do.

In the years since, I've developed a thicker skin about public criticism and the cynicism with which some people approach the music I make. At that time, it leveled me. I had these voices in my head telling me that I had the perfect chance and I blew it. I hadn’t been good enough. I had given it all I had and been found wanting.

I wanted to get better, to challenge myself, and to build on my skills as a writer, an artist, and a performer. I didn't want to just be handed respect and acceptance in my field. I wanted to earn it. To try and confront these demons, I underwent extensive vocal training and made a decision that would completely define this album: I decided I would write it entirely on my own. I figured, they couldn't give all the credit to my cowriters if there weren't any. But that posed a new challenge: It really had to be good. If it wasn't, I would be proving my critics right.

I had no idea how much this pain would shape me. That this was the beginning of my series of creative choices made by reacting to setbacks with defiance. That my stubbornness in the face of doubters and dissenters would become my coping mechanism through my entire career from that point forward. This exact pattern of enacting my own form of rebellion when I feel broken is exactly why you're reading these very words, and I'm re-releasing this album now.

I went through my first worldwide scandal (the mic grab seen around the world). I experienced the weirdness of trying to get to know a boy while a swarm of paparazzi surrounds the car. Media contacting my publicist for an official statement on why two teenagers broke up. These are weird experiences to have at any age, but even more surreal when you're 19.

I had the nagging sense that in the most intense moments of my life, I had frozen. I had said nothing publicly. I still don't know if it was out of instinct, not wanting to seem impolite, or just overwhelming fear. But I made sure to say it all in these songs. I decided to call the album Speak Now. It was a play on the speak now or forever hold your peace' moment in weddings, but for me it symbolized a chance to respond to the chatter and commentary around my own life.

Some of these emotional revelations were surprising to people. Some expected anger and instead got compassion and empathy with 'Innocent'. Some expected a kiss-off breakup song but instead got a hand-on-heart apology, 'Back to December. It was an album that was the most precious to me because of its vast extremes. It was unfiltered and potent. In my mind, the saddest song I've ever written is 'Last Kiss'. My most scathing is 'Dear John' and my most wistfully romantic is 'Enchanted'.

I'll be forever proud of setting a goal and seeing it through. I'lI always feel shivers all over when I remember singing 'Long Live' to close the show every night on tour. The outstretched hands of those bright and beautiful faces of the fans. Their support was like an open palm that reached out and helped me up off the ground when others were, frankly, mean.

These days I make my choices for those people, the ones who thought I had been good enough all along. I try to speak my mind when I feel strongly, in the moment I feel it. I'm still idealistic and earnest about the music I make, but I'm less crushed when people mock me for it. I know now that one of the bravest things a person can do is create something with unblinking sincerity, to put it all on the line. I still sometimes wish I was a little kid again in a tiny bed, before I ever grew up.

I always looked at this album as my album, and the lump in my throat expands to a quivering voice as I say this. Thanks to you, dear reader, it finally will be.

I consider this music to be, along with your faith in me, the best thing that's ever been mine.

Yours,

Taylor

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I might get some hate for this but I think people give the rite of profane ascension a little too much credit. All it did was amplify that which was already there. All the possessiveness, the theatric demeanor, the strange coping mechanisms, that's all Astarion. He had those traits already. The rite didn't have a personality baked in that possessed Astarion once it was completed. If you had finished the rite instead, it would act differently.

Astarion, after getting unfathomable power is going to do the one thing he knows he can. Be the biggest prick on the sword coast lol. He thinks himself untouchable now so he's going to rub it in the face of anyone in the vicinity.

Something else I find really interesting. When not romancing Astarion it is MUCH easier to talk him down from going through with it. Alot of his desire to complete the ritual comes from fear of losing the one person he cares for. So the ritual corrupts that too and turns it into possessiveness. It was already there. He's so afraid of losing you that he does the vampiric equivalent of a marriage and now you both have a mind link along with the one from the tadpole. (Lots of interesting stuff about vampiric spouses in DnD lore that explains alot of what happens and what Astarion views the relationship as) The vampiric spouses happiness becomes everything. He dotes on them.

"Ask me anything, and it will be yours".

But he also establishes a clear dom/sub type dynamic. I think because it's what he has known the most and is also maybe a liiiiiitle drunk off the power still. Which isn't everyone's cup of tea. So post ritual Astarion can quickly become very uncomfortable for people. But it's not necessarily "new" or Cazadors personality baked into the ritual. He has always had the potential to be like this. Even without killing over 7000 people. That's what makes his character analysis so fascinating. A!A and spawn Astarion are so detailed and well written and analysing them both just makes me realise how much work was put into these companions.

One more thing I'd like to mention. Aside from the occasional difference in wording or his greetings, most of his voice lines are exactly the same. It's still Astarion. And of course this is due to resource management but I also think it works as being intentional as well. He's still in there. He's just really lost in the power sauce at the moment.

Do I think ascended Astarion is the "better" ending? Objectively, no. From an RP standpoint, maybe! I think almost every companion has an arc where lust for power or blind devotion becomes their downfall. Even Durge! It's what makes them such compelling characters.

[animeomegas]

Hi! Could I request maybe the reunion between shikamaru and his alpha?? Like from the shikamaru breaking down bc his alpha is late from a mission and his teacher is dead Thanks!!

I think I've written something small about this before, but I'm happy to expand on it! Enjoy <3 ( I didn't realise I'd left this in my drafts, so here you guys go while my arms are sore still haha)

"Shikamaru, you need to sleep," you said gently, holding his face in your hands. Dark circles and stress bitten lips gazed back at you as he shook his head. He had looked worse when you first got home yesterday, but thankfully, after the first hour of cuddling and crying, it had been easy to get him to take a shower with you. Unfortunately, it was not proving as easy to get him to go to sleep.

"No," he muttered, voice hoarse from crying.

"You have to sleep at some point, sweetheart," you pointed out, smoothing your thumbs over his skin. He shook his head again. "Please? For me?" There was some hesitation this time, but he still shook his head in the negative.

It had been twelve hours since you'd returned, but Shikamaru was still firmly stressed and alert, coiled like a spring at every moment, despite your and his parents' best efforts in calming him down.

He was grieving, you understood that. And then a mission had taken you away from him when he needed you the most, you understood that too. You had the greatest patience for him, but he still needed to sleep (and you would also rather like to be able to use the toilet without holding his hand.)

"Shika..."

"Don't. Please, just don't. I'm fine."

He was clearly running on fumes, but you didn't know how to make him rest, other than just letting him push himself until he collapsed. You didn't even know why he was so resistant to sleep. Did he think you would be gone when he woke up even though you had promised to the contrary countless times?

You wracked your brain desperately, as Shikamaru moved his face until it was buried in your collar bones. You idly stroked his hair, allowing your fingers to glide through the soft strands. You needed to soothe him to sleep somehow.

You focused for a moment on the sound of his mother pottering away in the kitchen. You relied on her for advice on handling Shika's obsession instinct often, but she'd been unable to suggest anything helpful this time.

You started to hum, almost without thinking, as though it was an instinct to fill the silence without words. The melody started out as nothing more than a collection of random notes, but slowly, it morphed into one of your favourite love songs.

You sang softly, still stroking Shikamaru's hair in time to the music. Your voice was a little rusty from disuse, but you pushed through the minor discomfort.

A hot tear rolled onto your neck from where Shikamaru had his face pressed. You didn't bring attention to it, you just kept singing through the ticklish sensation.

You sang that song twice before you picked a new one.

And then another.

And another.

Eventually the tears stopped flowing and Shikamaru's breaths evened out. The weight of his head increased and his limbs went completely limp as he finally succumbed to sleep.

You sang that first love song one more time, just to be sure he was truly asleep, before you joined him in unconsciousness.

There was a long way to go, to process his grief properly, to reassure him that you weren't going to leave, maybe some more desensitisation training to help him cope, but everything would feel just a little bit better once he'd had some sleep.

[fernandamaya]

Scarring Passion 10.03.2024

Kaveh was an immediate favorite of mine when we learned about him in the game. It dawned on me pretty fast afterwards that the favoritism was stemming partly from feeling reflected in him, which is sweet and emotional but also a tough realization. Kaveh is an idealist and too empathetic for his own good, a creative soul and big heart whose life experiences have irredeemably affected his mental health. Will Stetson's Writing on the wall is an amazing approach to Kaveh's character, the song was on a loop multiple times while I drew this piece. It's hard to put into words just how much this character's existence means to me, since, despite of the blows life's thrown at him, he still continues to be his own form of soft. I feel like he makes me realize that I, too, have remained my own form of soft, but that the inherent guilt of not being the soft I think I should be has made it difficult to show up for myself sometimes and it derives into unhealthy coping mechanisms (although I'm not an alcoholic but gaming and oversleeping are their own form of worrisome escapism lmao). He reminds me of the passion for the craft and the world itself overpowerng the instinct of preserving oneself. Kaveh lacks boundaries because he doesn't respect himself over the benefit of others, and at least, thankfully, I've started to learn that lol. I think the character personality design team did a wondeful work with him. There's a lot of nuance in genshin characters, hoyoverse in general for that matter, and I truly appreciate that we get to enjoy these fictional character's lives and find the light they so beautifully keep in themselves, maybe to be able to find it in ourselves as well.

Ah man, too many things I'd say as well but I'd express myself better in Spanish and even then it would be a bunch of rambling because mind goes faster than hands lol

I really loved doing this artpiece. I've wanted to draw Kaveh for months and started two other drawings before this that I didnt really like and scrapped. I hope I draw him again in the furute 💖

[walkingstackofbooks]

A 9-year-old Julian Bashir who has had nightmares about evil doctors in an alien hospital for as long as he can remember. He doesn't tell his parents though because "he's a big boy now" and nightmares are for little kids, so he knows he should deal with them alone. And even if he'd like a hug sometimes, his mum only gives him hugs for doing well, not for doing badly, so he figures there's no point bothering her

A 15-year-old Julian Bashir who realises that the nightmares he used to have were based on the apparently very real alien hospital his parents had taken him to as a kid, and spends hours trying to figure out what were real memories and what his mind had made up over the years as he slept. The nightmares come back with an intensity, but they're nothing compared with how he's feeling when he's awake, and pretty soon they become a normal background noise of his life.

A 19-year-old Julian Bashir who's finally been moved into a solitary room after his third roommate in as many weeks complained about the almost-nightly screams. His advisor asks if he wants to speak to anyone: he claims they're just night terrors and he doesn't actually remember them. Besides, even if he could talk about what was in them, he probably wouldn't, because he's fine - he's used to them by now.

A 24-year-old Julian Bashir who gets woken from his nightmares by warm hands and gentle kisses, and learns what is like to be soothed back to sleep by the soft voice of Palis Delon

A 32-year-old Julian Bashir who has a different nightmare every night. The last year's been difficult. But then, it's been difficult for everyone, and he knows he's far from the only one to be suffering from nightmares at the moment.

A 34-year-old Julian Bashir who can't stop dreaming about the torture he went through four weeks ago, who's missing Ezri and who Miles is increasingly concerned about. When the O'Briens offer him their spare room for a while, he warns them multiple times about his nightmares, and is pathetically grateful when that doesn't change their minds. "We have nightmares too, Julian," says Keiko. "We can cope with yours."

A 34-year-old Julian Bashir who is confused when, three days later, Miles remarks, "You are having a bad run of those nightmares, aren't you?"

"They've been better than usual, actually," he replies awkwardly. "It's been really nice being able to go back to sleep afterwards, for once -- you and Keiko have been so generous in coming and checking on me."

"Course we're gonna come and check on you," says Miles gruffly. "You woke up terrified. We're not letting you do that alone."

"I'd be fine, Miles," Julian reassures. "I'm hardly going to expect one of you to come in every night."

Miles pauses. "...How long are you expecting to have them 'every night' for?" he asks, with some concern. "I mean, after a thing like this, how long does it usually take them to settle down?"

Julian stares at Miles. "I... have nightmares, Miles," he replies, frowning. "Just like you. Nightmares happen every night."

"No, they don't," says Miles, equally confused. "Don't get me wrong, they can do: after something big then sure, they're like that for a few weeks - a couple of months, even. But eventually they fall down to once, twice a week..."

Julian is looking at Miles incredulously. "That might be how it works for you," he says. "I guess my brain's different to yours. Mine don't stop, they just... mix. Change. Get confused with one another, eventually. I've had more dreams about being genetically modified by Sloan in the Dominion camp than I care to remember, you know?"

Miles' concern has turned into abject dismay. "You're saying you've had nightmares every single night since the Dominion took you?" he exclaims.

"Well, maybe not every single night!" retorts Julian, a little unsure what Miles is getting so het up about. "I do have some days when I don't... But yeah, pretty much. I've had nightmares most nights since I was fifteen, it's just how my brain processes stuff."

"Fifteen?"

...

A 34-year-old Julian who finds out that having nightmares every night for two decades is, apparently, "not normal" and something he should be seeking help for.

If Ezri comes back alive, he supposes he might take it up with her.