#might have been at the crux of this thing. the giving others so much room that you lose substance of your own

[lesamis]

If a face, as Johann Gottfried Herder says, is nothing more than a Spiegelkammer of the spirit, then we should be a little frightened of Keats's variety of expressions. [...] Keats is unable to contemplate himself. His gift is not knowing how to reconcile himself. The identity of a person who is in the room with him presses in and cancels his own out in a flash. When Keats speaks, he's not sure he's the one talking.

"John Keats", in These Possible Lives, Fleur Jaeggy

[lime-bloods]

Reading Roxy and Meenah as doppelgangers: a digression on manifestation theory

A brief introduction to manifestation

Manifestation theory sounds scary - the idea that the appearance of trolls and other fantastical creatures might double as insight into the psychological goings-on of our human protagonists is not one that necessarily comes intuitively to all readers. But as blogger azdoine succinctly put it: it's basically "just symbolism". Characters in a story symbolise something, and, understanding that Homestuck is chiefly about its human protagonists, it's logical to presume that the non-human elements symbolise things that are relevant to the protagonists' human experience.

mmmmalo has written at length about what he identifies as the signs linking Meenah to Roxy's inner psychodrama - the things that make Meenah an "esoteric mirror" or "doppelganger" of Roxy. For comprehensiveness' sake, I'm going to outline from scratch what I have identified to be the key signs, and to that end this post is going to discuss the topics of reproduction, reproductive coersion and miscarried pregnancy (with text-pertinent allusions to grooming and incestuous abuse).

One big happy family

Looks like a little girl's room. This all strikes you as a bit odd.

Hussie suggests only briefly in commentary that the young Roxy's (β) upbringing was at the hands of "a younger grandpa Harley" (Book 2, p. 106), but we needn't take their word for it; the scenery here speaks for itself. Roxy grew up in a dark green basement, trained from childhood to become an agent of Harley's goals, just as Damara (β) - and then by succession Meenah (β) - would be trained as English's agents. So, by analogy, Grandpa Harley is Lord English.

This is another point mmmmalo has (in)famously already made, but regardless of your thoughts on the particulars of that specific reading, the key clues pointing to English as a manifestation of the "Grandpa" character are still plain to see. When John says "the worst case scenario" would be "[facing] our grandfatherly paradox-dad as a last boss", he's explicitly referring to he and Jade's family patriarch, but he's also implicitly foreshadowing Lord English - a character who, in the maturity of 2024, we should now all be able to recognise is in one way everyone's grandfatherly paradox-dad. He represents the same upper echelon of paternalistic power on a cosmic scale that Jake (β) represents on a familial level.

Moving this along towards my point: essentially all of Acts 1-4's adult characters form part of this elaborate Nuclear Family Roleplay - a pantomime of the 'Suburban' setting Homestuck is founded upon. In the same way Jake being known as simply "Grandpa" symbolises his arch-patriarchal position, the reason Roxy is known only as MOM for the first five acts of the comic is because this is the archetypal, impersonal role she has been reduced down into. Her relationship with the character named DAD is a direct invocation of this - the two are essentially playing house, living out the gendered roles that have societally/cosmically been laid out for them. The comic's exposition coyly brushes over this, but a deeper look at Alternian culture gives us a much clearer vision of why 'MOM and DAD' make such an iconic matespritship: on Alternia there ARE no real family units, only procreation, and therefore matespritship is understood by the planet's inhabitants as a mere expression of "mating fondness". MOM and DAD make such a cute couple because they are exactly what their assigned titles depict them as - a breeding pair.

This is basically the crux of Roxy's arc right up to the very end of the comic; though Roxy's (Α) post-apocalyptic anxieties about the extinction of the human race bring these thoughts to the forefront, her struggle within the patriarchal structures of the household / society / reality itself has always been that she is only valued as a MOM - as a breeding machine.

The problem therein is that Roxy is seemingly incapable of having children.

The grieving mother

Within Sburb's scheme of universal childbirth, a "void session" is one that simply doesn't have the eggs required to bear fruit. So it's immediately easy to see why the Hero of Void would have similar trouble bringing a pregnancy to term. But certainly not for lack of trying!

Sorry, Jaspers [...] your final resting place is already a mockery. You should have decomposed years ago under a bed of petunias like a normal cat. Not given to a taxidermist and fitted with a tiny, custom-tailored suit, and then stuffed in a coffin built for infants.

When Rose was still very young, Jaspers was found dead. Roxy took the death of her CAT so hard that Rose found it difficult to take her grief seriously, interpreting the cat's elaborate mausoleum as a "structure erected with a spirit of scornful IRONY in response to [a] youthfully innocent request to hold a funeral for the animal." But more than any other, Rose and Roxy's relationship is one defined by miscommunication, and this assessment of Roxy's grief doesn't even seem to hold up to Rose's own recollection of events: later, we hear that the funeral service was something Roxy "insisted upon".

And thus begins probably Homestuck's most clear-cut example of a character's arc stretching across multiple iterations, because from this point - parallel to her neverending quest to settle down with a nice hubby and start a family - Roxy (both β and Α) becomes fixated on bringing back her baby - I mean CAT - only to produce failed mutant after failed mutant. These freaks of nature are not Jaspers, and by the laws of time travel dictating the lives of Paradox Clones they can never be Jaspers. The younger Roxy's first few attempts are literally stillborn; while she's eventually able to create what she calls "healthy felines", she still keeps those monsters locked in the basement they came from, for fear of upsetting her real CAT.

Even as over the course of her Sburb quest and her interactions with the new arrivals from the other session Roxy is seemingly able to address and even overcome some of this obsessive gnostalgia for the things she's lost, her apparent inability to bring to term resurfaces when she's made the reproductive object of another grieving mother.

The lamenting queen (or: the other mother)

Her Imperious Condescension is not so immediately recognisable as part of the family pantomime because the troll social structure doesn't use the same terminology we're familiar with, but she's always been there; just as Lord English is grandfather of grandfathers, Meenah is the family tree's literal grandmatriarch of grandmatriarchs, placed upon the Earth in the guise of Betty Crocker - archetypal nurturing housewife - so that her children's children might seed the events architected by her master. This kind of familial roleplay is exactly how English and Meenah's story is passed down to her descendants; Jake recalls that "the witch used to be married to a terrible man named english." Dirk is insistent, though, that this is a masking of the truth, and that English was only ever "her superior". And while it's true that we can't say for sure a young Meenah (β) slept in the same bed Damara grew up in, the fact that Meenah was only formally recruited after Damara's death should not be mistaken for suggesting that Meenah was not one of English's many daughters. She was "the Lo+rd's slave all alo+ng", even if implicitly.

ARANEA: Once she claimed the throne, she would have to serve for many thousands of years, until the next successor was ready.

For all the differences between Meenah and Roxy's cultures, slavery in the form of motherhood has always been the expectation of the female fuchsia caste, right from the very beginning of Meenah's arc - not as the empress of Alternia, but on Beforus, where the hemospectrum is reframed in far more familial terms:

ARANEA: The jo8 of each 8lood caste was to serve the needs of all those 8elow it. ARANEA: We were to use our progressively greater longevity and wisdom to help the lower castes learn and grow. To listen to them and try to provide whatever they were missing. Like a hierarchy of caretakers with increasing social responsi8ility.

Crucially, this is where Meenah and Roxy appear most to act as reflections but not carbon copies of each other; because where Roxy constantly strives to contort herself into this motherly, wifely role, Meenah perpetually runs from it. Saddled with the "incredi8le responsi8ility" of sitting atop Beforus' structure of care, Meenah "viewed the empress as a glorified slave" and fled to the moon, and even forced into ascendancy on Alternia she finds implicit ways to be absent from her children, spending her life flying further and further away from the planet where they're born and taking every opportunity to hand off any real political authority to clown rappers (a tendency reflected in her human heirs - the company is always passed on to the son and never the daughter).

But when Meenah finally returns home to find her children suddenly massacred by a galactic apocalypse, her arc begins to pull into line with Roxy's in earnest.

A fluffy twitching prison

TT: The rumors say it was her own "pet" who killed them.

From the moment of her dramatic introduction, Meenah's tragedy is that though she can extend life indefinitely, she cannot have back what she's lost, and this continues to be true as she attempts to resurrect her children on a new planet; attempt after attempt, her babies all die. Despite Gl'bgolyb's explicit death in the meteoric holocaust which claimed the rest of her family, the creature has inexplicably returned on the trolls' prospective new homeworld with the apparent sole purpose of making sure Meenah can't carry to term. We're left to our own devices to figure out just what's going on here.

Act 6 of Homestuck introduces Watchmen to its repertoire of intertexts through Jane's poster of cobalt beefcake MANHATTAN. Watchmen's Dr. Manhattan is an omnipotent world-shaping being who flees the responsibilities of Earth to settle on the planet Mars, iconically rendered in beautiful rosy hues by colourist John Higgins - when we hear the story of Meenah's refusal to the call of being Beforus' own god-empress, it's against the backdrop of a photograph of Mars literally hue-shifted pink (see fourth image), and images of Meenah's ship flying over a settlement on the red planet are included among the products advertised by Crockercorp. Far more explicitly, though: Watchmen originated the idea of using the screams of a psychic alien squid as political leverage, and that's why Gl'bgolyb has to be here for this part.

Alongside commenting on the political landscape of the 80s and the fascist undertones of the superhuman archetypes found in comic books, Watchmen pays particular attention to these characters' sexual eccentricities, and particularly their hangups with women. It stands to reason that of the latter closet homosexual Ozymandias' are the most severe, but they also become the most explicit: the artificial 'horrorterror' he uses to usher in his new world order is his fear of the female body made manifest. With its single clitoral eye and sphinctered mouth, the creature is unmistakeably yonic, and included in the horrific psychic imagery it broadcasts to instill fear into the Earth's population are nightmarish images of juvenile aliens chewing their way out of their mother's womb - the very same image trolls use to describe their disgust at human reproduction in The Homestuck Epilogues. Meenah's relationship to Gl'gboylb should be thought of the exact same way; one of the rare insights we receive into the adult Meenah's psyche is that she finds the process of giving birth "revolting", and it's for this reason she insists that humans procreate only through impersonal cloning. Gl'bgolyb reappears as Meenah's own manifestation: alienated from her own lusus after spending centuries literally running away from it, and traumatised by repeated miscarried attempts at reviving her race, she sees her own reproductive organs as nothing more than a hideous, baby-killing monster. It's no coincidence that when we see our single glimpse of the enigmatic emissary to the horrorterrors on Earth, it's with its tendrils wrapped around the throat of a symbolic depiction of the Genesis Frog (see above image) - the baby that grows in the womb of Skaia.

Breaking the cycle

By Act 6, the matriorb has already long been associated with failed and aborted pregnancies, having been rescued from the first mother it killed and taken into the care of Kanaya, who is then blasted through the abdomen just as it's destroyed, symbolically miscarrying through physical trauma. So when Roxy is tasked with finally bringing a dead baby back to life, it's a coalescence of multiple disparate threads.

(p. 6463)

Meenah unwittingly - or perhaps uncaringly - perpetuates a patriarchal cycle which has been repeating for eternity by selecting a younger, more fertile doppelganger to take over the role of mother, and locks Roxy in a dungeon with the intention of making her have the baby in her place. But, cycles being cycles and doppelgangers being doppelgangers, the same problem arises. Roxy can only create mutants.

When Roxy does ultimately overcome this, ending the comic with the culmination of this long, meandering motherhood arc, superficially it's because of time spent blitzing her Void chakras in the space outside of reality, and with the help of Calliope as a Muse. But in the time Roxy spends in the white nothingness, she's crucially able to take steps to end her own obsession with reviving the past - not just by burying a version of her own mother, who she spent so much time hoping to resurrect in sprite form, but also in sharing a tearful reunion with the literal ghost of her dead CAT. As with so much of Homestuck, the key to ending the suffering is breaking the self-perpetuating cycle that causes it; made literal, in this case, by Roxy's slaying of her dark mirror image using a sword known for splitting vinyl records - symbolically, for breaking the ever-turning circle of time. And in passing the matriorb off to Kanaya rather than letting Meenah have control of it, Roxy never actually brings this baby to term herself, either - at the end of the day, the minutiae of biology aren't really what motherhood is about:

ROXY: the way i see it is you shouldnt have needed to worry about makin the thing ROXY: i think it will be challenging enough like... ROXY: hatching it?? ROXY: and tending to all the stuff that comes next ROXY: isnt that basically being responsible for the preservation of an entire race of people?

Physically overcoming her demonic doppelganger isn't the end-all of Roxy's struggle with gendered expectation, either. Roxy's complicated relationship with their sex and their motherhood, introduced to us only indirectly through the relationship between Meenah and Gl'bgolyb, becomes central to their understanding and exploration of their own gender identity as they grow into adulthood. Anxieties about the inherent femininity of a childbearing body - the glorified slavery that is seemingly inherent to the cosmically-assigned role of the mother - give way to an understanding of the human body as "something altogether different [...] A flesh machine" with "a specific, practical purpose."

But I digress

The threads running between Roxy and Meenah exist along the types of lines most Homestuck readers will already be familiar with in some form. When two characters share a class, or an aspect, we expect that traits from one character can be used to analyse and further our understanding of the other. Manifestation theory simply asks that we look for even more subtle and non-literal connections between characters than these - a process which Andrew Hussie themself has identified in authorial commentary as part of what they call "persona alchemy". (Book 4, p. 151)

Roxy and Meenah's particular relationship, though, should also be thought of in terms of another phenomenon which is central to Homestuck's structure - escalation. Homestuck constantly reorders and transmutes the alchemical elements that compose one character into 'new' characters, but it also consistently stretches these fundamental concepts to their logical extremes. Just as a game that destroys planets works its way up to the destruction of universes, John striving to leave his house in Act 1 should be taken as the logical precursor to our heroes leaving reality itself in Act 7. The forces keeping these children in their houses - essentially the story's first ever antagonists - are their parents, and as we scale this story up to a cosmic level, we find that the cosmos is dictated by the same suburban family structures; by celestial GRANDPAs and MOMs, raising/grooming/training/neglecting entire worlds or even galactic empires at once.

By allowing us to meet not only the teen MOMs and BROs and NANNAs, but also the teen Lord Englishes and the teen Condesces, the scratch takes us in the opposite direction, reducing these faceless, larger-than-life figures into their smallest, weakest, most fundamentally human forms. And in some cases, as in Roxy's, this creates the opportunity for the child-form to confront and overcome the very darkest of their potential; by being the one to put Meenah down, Roxy not only liberates herself from her own expectations for what a mother has to be and do, but shatters the very cosmic image of MOM itself, breaking the mold that reality had set in stone for her entire sex - her entire caste.

[theflyindutchwoman]

Why do you think Tim kept his breakup with Ashely a “secret” from Lucy? Like why didn’t he want to tell her?

My guess is that, at first, he probably didn't want to talk about it. At all. Tim is already not the type of person to easily open up on the best of days, and this wasn't a good day. So I can see why he would not want to have this conversation, especially while he was at the hospital. There was no way to escape which put him in an extremely vulnerable position. Besides, he most likely needed time to process the break-up too. He was just waking up from a major surgery, still feeling the effects of the anesthesia, when Ashley decided to call it quits, and Lucy showed up a few hours later. It was too fresh. He needed some time for himself, to lick his wounds so to speak. On top of that, he was also having a moment with Lucy : it was the closest they got to normal since Vegas. I can understand the instinct to stay on safer topics and the desire to linger in that moment. Talking about the break-up could have made things awkward again, forced them to acknowledge the elephant in the room and honestly, I doubt he was ready for that.

As for later, once he was back at work… Well, the fact that they were at the station couldn't have helped… it's hardly the most private place. It's one thing to talk about personal matters in the shop : there's still a sense of privacy - despite the cameras. But at the station : decidedly not. Which brings us to the other issue : the first time he saw Lucy at work, she was laughing with Chris. Judging from the way he greeted them, it's clear that he shut down. This encounter just brought back so many things to the surface that he didn't want to deal with. Hence the extra grumpiness. There was a moment later in the episode, when he confronted Lucy in the bullpen : it looked like she was getting through to him. But he chickened out. And we come to the crux of the matter. Telling Lucy meant coming to terms with his feelings for her. He could no longer hide behind his "I'm with Ashley so I can't have feelings for Lucy" any longer. He was pining and was trying to hold on to his denial as long as possible. And there might have been a bit of fear in the mix. Because what if he tells her and that changes everything? Or what if he tells her and it doesn't change anything?

It is extremely telling that in the end, he did fess up, but only once Lucy admitted feeling like she had overstepped his boundaries. The scavenger hunt was her way of trying to reach out and cheer him up, despite not knowing why he was upset, and I think that a part of him actually enjoyed this little game between them. As the senior officer, he could have just ordered her to give him back his radio otherwise. But the second she became unsure, he told her about the break-up and promptly reassured her that she didn't overstep anything, that he was touched by her attention - and intention… And that's the irony : all this time, he didn't want to talk about it, only for him to practically treat it as an afterthought. In that moment, he was more focused on making sure Lucy knew how much he appreciated her gesture. I'll always be curious as to what he was going to say before Chris' interruption by the way. But in any case, his defeated posture when he saw Lucy leave with her boyfriend makes me believe that this was precisely why he was keeping it a secret.

And lastly, in terms of storytelling, it was a way to showcase how Tim and Lucy's dynamic was still a bit off-balance. They were tiptoeing around the other, and while they had made headway at the hospital, things were still awkward between them. At least, that's how I interpreted it :)

[ineffable-dads]

Don't Wait Up

Ineffable Husbands, Ineffable Dads, Light Angst, Mentions of Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Crowley, Child!OC

Ineffable Dads Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!

Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!

Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.

Word Count: 1.9K

Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score. 

She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up.  The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.

His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.

He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.

It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.

That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.

With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so.  No point in pretending to read.  She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.

Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.

“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”

She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs.  The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.

“Dear, are you alright?”

Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing.  She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.

Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.

“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”

“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly.  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.

“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”

He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.

“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”

“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.

“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk.  What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”

He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.

“Belle what have I told you about lying?”

“You do it all the time.”

He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”

“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame.  “Now that is completely off the subject.”

There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.

He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”

Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst.  He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good.  For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him. 

A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.

There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out.  He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.

“What happened,” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly.  “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”

The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”

“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear.  I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”

Crowley nodded.  “Right, best let me take the lead.”

“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.

“Tough love.”

He then turned his attention up the stairs.

“Izz! I’m coming up!”

It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered.  And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.

“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”

“No!”

“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”

He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.

Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.

“That’s not fair!” she shouted.

“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion.  Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human.  It’s a very human thing to do.  Now can’t I just cry?!”

It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one. 

Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her.  He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug.  “There, there, it will be alright.”

Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.

“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.

She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke.  I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”

“What joke was that?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Isabelle,” Crowley said.

That got both their attentions. 

Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.

The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.

“It was all a joke,” she said quietly.  “Thomas asking me out.  It was all a joke.”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.

“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did.  After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner.  So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”

She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.

“They just thought it was really funny.  I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”

The tears were flowing freely now.

“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid.  I’m so stupid.”

She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.

“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming.  You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”

She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words.  Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him.  He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for.  That’s it.  Just let it all out.”

Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks.  His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze.  Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.

Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning.  She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said.  “It’s going to take a while to recover from this.  She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”

“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that.  You got this angel?”

“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who. 

He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause.  He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him.  Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.

[esselbathfittings]

Small Kitchen? How to Maximize Space with the Right Kitchen Sink

There are kitchen sinks but are they saving you space? Your kitchen sink might be taking up more space than you realize and must not fit with small areas. In this article, we will discuss how handmade kitchen sinks and press kitchen sinks are making single-basin and double-basins more space-savvy.

Crafting Handmade Kitchen Sink

Handmade kitchen items are always involved with very chic designs. Think of German cars and their handmade engines. It makes them better and gives them an opportunity to be the best of the most. Similarly, a handmade kitchen sink is made to be specific, particularly with style and longevity.

Single Basin Handmade Sinks:

The types could be many but single handmade kitchen sinks are the needed asset for a small space. A smaller kitchen does not have enough space and needs something efficient that lasts longer. Therefore, this basin can be the crux for accommodation.

Advantages of Single Basin Handmade Sinks:

● It is for those who do not have a way for extra and free space and need to make the room free from such cabinets.

● Since the kitchen sink is handmade the whole thing can be customised and ready to take off with depth and designs. Even a small basin can do it with such a good design.

● Any kind of handmade kitchen sink is accustomed to building water if not maintained properly. Whereas, at Essel, the kitchen sinks are much more convenient and reduce the chance of water buildup in the corners.

Double Basin Handmade Sinks:

Now if the parts are small and yet not enough small, you can always look for a double basin handmade sink. Handmade kitchen sinks have always been the core of compact kitchens as they can be crafted to fit in a particular space.

Advantages of Double Basin Handmade Sinks:

● They are helpful with multitasking and it is known by everyone for a fact. You can always rinse veggies in one sink and keep the other one for washing dishes.

● It is not that far-fetched to understand that since it is a handmade double kitchen sink, it will be customized according to your needs and desires.

● As much as you customize them to your desired look, you realize that they can fit in with most types of styles and uniqueness.

Nothing so Functional as Press Kitchen Sink

The name itself suggests the matter with the press kitchen sink. In this process, the steel for the sink is pressed to be made stainless and therefore turns out to be durable and affordable. Now they can’t be as customized as the handmade sink but they do value great for shaving space in a compact area.

Single Basin Press Sinks:

A single basin press sink is a great space-saving option for small kitchens. These sinks typically feature a deep, spacious basin, perfect for large pots and dishes. Pressed sinks are often designed with clean, minimalist lines, which can make a small kitchen feel less cluttered.

The design plays a crucial part in stainless steel kitchen sink. This is because the space is sleek due to the designs which gives a clean and important area with them. The design is mostly clean and not too cluttered.

Advantages of Single Basin Press Sinks:

● When we say stainless kitchen sink we indirectly mean maximum counter space. With a single kitchen sink, you can have a counter space for food and dishes.

● They are pocket-friendly in most cases. A stainless steel kitchen sink can be accommodated in minimum space and can be made affordably.

● As said previously, stainless steel kitchen sinks or press sinks in general have sleek designs that impact the space making it more functional.

Double Basin Press Sinks:

In a similar manner, a double kitchen sink or press sink also has two separate areas for various chores.

Advantages of Double Basin Press Sinks: Tackling most tasks is easier with two hands by the side and therefore double kitchen sinks are helpful.

They are great with installation and maintenance and therefore easier to pull out in busy kitchens.

They have an integrated drainboard which makes them a functional design to take up the least space all over.

Conclusion

It is also important to understand that you choose the right kitchen sink from a great place. At Essel, we provide most of all bath fittings and the best quality kitchen sinks be it a handmade kitchen sink or a stainless steel kitchen sink.

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[biggerchallenge]

I was originally going to put this in the tags but I had so much to dwell on about this that I figure it might as well be a full-on response. As a preface, I'm not in game dev and this is mostly going off of secondhand knowledge and general observations.

txttletale is correct, Saints Row 2 has one of the most impressive character creators in gaming history, with a significant amount of options for your character's appearance, with an immense amount of versatility for not only faces, but fat, weight, muscle, and body proportions. Not only could you be fat, you could have amounts of fat that no character creator before or since has been willing to give a player. Gender was a slider, ranging from more masculine to more feminine shapes.

Why did they do this? There's two key reasons:

Having this would (in theory) allow them to have a baseline with which to design all NPCs, and hoo boy was there NPC variety in 2.

THQ was putting a LOT of time and money into a huge gamble in creating something that could compete and even surpass GTA in popularity.

What were the costs?

Time and money, as stated earlier

The wellbeing of developers. I haven't a single doubt in my mind Volition's dev team was being crunched to hell and back, especially since there was only 2 years between the release of 1 and 2.

The game has so much packed into it that it's kind of a Mario 64 or Generation 1 Pokemon situation where they were pushing both hardware and software to their limit. This can mean glitches, and a lot of them.

It's important to keep in mind that not only did the game have a robust character creator, but a deluge of main game and side game content, voice work, animations, cutscenes with incredibly impressive cinematography, as well as an incredibly unique map with a huge amount of variety, meaning a huge amount of unique assets.

And as for the crux of the question, which is "why not replicate this character creator", well those three big costs are probably the reasons why. And sadly, while Saints Row 2 was a success and the character creator remained a huge part of the series identity, all the way into the failed 2022 reboot, the sad truth is that the majority of people who play video games just end up going for a kind of generic white guy. Fairly recently this came up for Baldur's Gate 3, and while there are only 2-4 body types for each playable race, there's still room for fantastical things like having horns or scales or being an anthropomorphic dragon. While I'm certain that 16 years of technological progess (at least in terms of pure hardware and software) could allow for some truly impressive character creators, it simply isn't that high a priority compared to all the other parts of game development, for better and for worse.

how the fuck did character creators peak at saints row 2

[selenium77]

What are your thoughts on Chromedome and Brainstorm (their friendship is sooooo !!!!!!!!! to me like two assholes who’ve clung to each other for millions of years and yeah CD calls himself Bstorm’s only friend but he doesn’t seem to have a very extensive social network himself BUT IDK THO…)

yeah!! I think Brainstorm and Chromedome are actually very similar in that regard, there's just a bit more focus on Chromedome and his interactions with others throughout the comic which might give off the impression that he has "friends" when he does not - at least not close ones (see his interactions with Rodimus, Drift, etc; Skids stands out as one of the few people who makes attempts at reaching out to him, but he's very bad about recognizing when his friends need help [see Swerve] and so that doesn't really go anywhere) kind of just shows how important Brainstorm is to him and vice-versa.

another thing they both struggle with is living in the present - it's a bit more obvious with Brainstorm because that is literally the crux of his arc, and it might seem out of character for CD given that his thing is forgetting, but his lack of close relationships is also the result of kinda just watching as things happen rather than making an effort to hold on to people. it's kind of amazing that they've stuck around each other for so long given all of this and everything else, but it's also just because they both feel love so deeply, and they both care about each other so much!!! they've got each other's backs no matter what.

their relationship goes wayyy back to the New Institute, a very dark time in CD's life, where Brainstorm witnessed his friend's suffering firsthand - he can understand and empathize with it because it's similar to what he's felt before himself. this doesn't come to a head until the Overlord arc, which just shows the lengths Brainstorm is willing to go to for the people he loves. I'm not saying anything here that hasn't been said before regarding the Time Case and Chromedome, but the fact that Brainstorm so quickly chooses to jeopardize his own existence and modify his Big Project (one originally intended solely for his own satisfaction) after seeing his only friend fall into such a deep grief that he feels partially responsible for is just... aghhh. his friend is worth all of that and more. it just says a lot that it is Chromedome who caused that change in him. another thing - Brainstorm's not exactly on "friendly" terms with Rewind until after Elegant Chaos, but it's their strong relationships with Chromedome that kind of helps bridge that gap between them. it's so................... there's a lot going on there and the BS/CD/RW dynamic is kind of really fun to think about too, not necessarily in a ship sense but just in general.

but yeah outside of ALL OF THAT... yeah they're both assholes and their dynamic is so fun, they have a lot of great banter going on. there's also that other aspect of their relationship where they do care about each other but also do things that hurt each other - a good example of this is the way Chromedome doesn't even wait until Brainstorm is out of the room to pull his needles out in 16, or the way that it seems Brainstorm has never objected to Chromedome injecting despite presumably being aware of the consequences it has on him and his health. what are friends for ^_^

ship-wise though - it's fun to think about CD being Brainstorm's first kiss or something back at the New Institute. I don't think they could feasibly go anywhere further than that because of what they each have going on, especially during that time, but still. fun!

[daughterofyourdarklord]

if they’re so similar then tell us ten things that delphi and voldemort share in common

1.) It's his own eyes staring back up at him on Bellatrix's face. He pauses, having never thought he'd see the exact shade in such perfect clarity again. The familiarity of it shakes him so much that he hands the child immediately back to Bellatrix, a strong grip from a little hand finally releasing his finger. It takes him a long while to get used to it.

2.) He recognize's his own flawless eyebrows on her next. They are thinner than Bella's, and stretch a bit longer - they're also less expressive. They frame the child's eyes (his eyes) perfectly and unmistakably. When she looks at her mother (and when she looks at him, too) there is a glimmer of love sparkling in her eyes, and a wrinkle of affection in those brows. He wonders if he'd ever looked at anyone like that.

3.) She's a born Legilimens. He's not sure why it surprises him, Bellatrix's Legilimency skills are almost as well honed as her Occlumency, and the ability has always been second nature to him. It's interesting, watching a child attempt to navigate the doorway into other's minds. He doesn’t remember how he’d handled it.

4.) When she smiles, it's Tom Riddle's perfect smile. Nothing crooked about it, a row of perfect pearly teeth on full display. No one else really recognize's that it's his, aside from Bella, he supposes. Delphini’s smile reaches her eyes though.

5.) He understands that jealousy is a common emotion, especially among young children. But the look she gives baby Scorpius as he bounces in Draco's arms, the hatred simmering in those dark eyes, it's painfully familiar to him. She's seethes in silence, the same way he had. He wonders how long it will be until little baby Scorpius gets mysteriously hurt, enough so that he finally asks Bella about it months later. The babe is in perfect health, and a part of him is surprised to hear it.

6.) The first time she picks up her new yew wand it's in her left hand. She holds it the same way he does - slender fingers caressing above the handle, the crux of it balanced almost carelessly in her palm. It looks as though it would slip right past her fingers with one strong flick, but it doesn't. As if magic itself is commanding it to stay. He smiles.

7.) She works a room in a way that is impressive even to him, for one so young. The entirety of Wizarding Britain eating out of the palm of her hand in minutes. She knows just how to act her age, and more importantly when not too - it's an entirely different type of witchcraft. He watches her pensively, and is surprised when an emotion close to pride seems to slither through him. She has his charisma and her mother's face.. She'll be lethal one day.

8.) Her affinity for dark magic does not come as a surprise to him. He'd been expecting that since the moment he felt her kick within her mother's womb, and was forced to rationalize what a daughter of theirs might grow to be like. She's much older when the consequences of such dark spells are staring him in the face following an unusually invigorating training session. She looks up to him from her bowed position, a streak of scarlet shinning brightly in each of her irises. It fades quickly. Overtime, he begin to consistently notice a flash of crimson in her gaze following assignments and missions. It doesn't seem nearly as permanent as his own, but certainly seems unique to only them.

9.) They're all engaged in ferocious combat when out of the corner of his eyes he sees Bellatrix fall. She'd been surrounded by over ten former Order Members, and one curse managed to slip just below an outstretched arm. He turns at once, and doesn't even notice his daughter stepping with him in tandem. They both scream, the same raging shriek, before an identical stream of red erupts from each of their wands. They meet at Bella's side in the same second, not even moments later. It's not until after Bellatrix is well again that he realizes just how in sync their reactions were.

10.) They never really had to remind Delphini that she is above everyone else. From a young age she seems to know it, exuding a confidence well beyond any of her peers. He blames Bellatrix. That Black blood brews vanity. She seems peeved at his remark, and is quick to remind him just how humble he's always been - 'along with all the rest of the Gaunts'. He goes rigid, but eventually concedes.. Salazar wasn't exactly known for his modesty, after all..

[ddarker-dreams]

Division. Yan Scaramouche x Reader [Implied x Yan Childe]

Warnings: Kidnapping, unwanted physical contact and implied suggestive themes. Word count: 1.3k.

While your body might be sore, it’s your arms that feel the worst.

They’re hoisted above your head with a rope secured tight around your wrists, longing for an opportunity to rest. You’ve been standing in this awkward position for many miserable hours. No windows in this dreary cobblestone prison make it difficult to tell the time or to find anything interesting to look at. There’s still no clear indication as to why you’ve ended up in this nightmare, much less when it will end. The person you’re assuming to be in charge has been subjecting you to malicious verbal jabs for the entire duration of your confinement.

“Truth be told,” he circles you like a hawk, his tone deceitfully sweet as honey, stopping only to admire your immobilized form. “I wasn’t sure what the appeal to you was at first.” 

Scaramouche leans forward, soft strands of indigo hair brushing against your face as he closes the distance. He runs a finger over your exposed collarbone, mirth dancing in his eyes at the goosebumps following in its wake. “But now… I think I’m starting to get it.” 

Mustering up your strength and courage, you narrow your eyes, glaring daggers at your captor. He’s thrilled at the sight, unable to hold back his laughter. The finger tails up, to the crux of your neck, which he then wraps his hand around. Your pulse accelerates at the unwelcome sensation, an element he doesn’t miss.

“You’re… you’re Fatui, right?” You inquire, refusing to take this torment in silence. Curious, he nods his head, the pad of his thumb rubbing up and down your neck slowly. 

“If this is about the Northland bank loan, then you’re making a mistake. I’ve already cleared things up with your boss.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, you regret them. Scaramouche’s mischievous attitude dissipates, his eyes piercing through you and a scowl on his face. The tension in the room rises to new heights, thick and palpable. 

“‘My boss’, you say,” he repeats with an irate click of his tongue as if it were the highest insult. “Tartaglia is no such thing, I can assure you.” 

What can this be about then? Your final line of defense is crumbling, now aware that using Childe’s favor on you won’t be viable. It felt reprehensible to use it in the first place, but lowering yourself to such a level would’ve been inconsequential if it earned your freedom. Instead, it’s done the opposite, adding kindling to the flame. Never have you regretted anything in your life as much as your involvement with the Fatui bank. 

Scaramouche removes his hands from you, a minor victory. What you said must’ve struck a nerve. Swallowing thickly, your mind searches desperately for any plausible escape. While you deliberate a plan, he crosses his arms against his chest, mouth set in a straight line.

“Tell me. Do you enjoy his company?” Scaramouche asks with a tilt of his head.

Licking your dry lips, you consider the question. Denial is the obvious answer, but speaking ill of a Harbinger feels like a death wish. Though he did seem rather displeased by mentioning Childe. Just when you thought you were beginning to understand the situation, that self-assuredness has been stolen, leaving more questions in its wake.

Testing your luck, you reveal the truth with a strained rebuttal. “No, I don’t.” 

More laughter. He doubles over, clutching his stomach as if your serious confession is the funniest joke he’s heard his entire life. This unabashed cruelty is a far cry from Childe’s code of conduct. Childe prefers to openly flirt with you, acting coquettish, whispering dirty promises into your ear. Scaramouche’s methodology is entirely different. He revels in your discomfort, actively saying anything to gain a reaction, positive or negative. With a preference for the latter.

“Ah, what a shame he didn’t get to hear you say that,” Scaramouche wipes the corners of his dark eyes, laughter finally settling down. “I’d give anything to see what his reaction would’ve been.”

“Are you two… enemies, or something…?” 

“He certainly thinks so now. I’m interested to see what Tartaglia plans to do, due to the fact Harbingers are forbidden to fight one another,” he hums, wrapping his fingers around a strand of your hair and playing with it. “Just how far would he go? I’m not sure myself, but I can’t wait to see.” 

The word Harbingers rings in your head like a funeral toll. Does that mean Scaramouche is one as well? It would explain his lack of concern for Childe’s combat prowess if he has similar capabilities. When he first approached you, there was no doubting the power he possessed, even with a smaller stature. Why is it these terrible individuals are drawn to you like a moth to a flame? Why are the Archons subjecting you to such torment?

“Another question. Just how far has Tartaglia gone with--” 

“My lord!” A booming voice interrupts, capturing the attention of you both. A person dressed in what you’ve come to recognize as Fatui’s uniform appears, bowing before a less than pleased Scaramouche. 

“Lord Childe is demanding to speak with you,” The agent relays. “I know you said not to interrupt, but, this seems rather urgent.” 

Scaramouche sighs, releasing your hair with a frown. “That was faster than I anticipated.” 

So he was expecting this from the start. Is it relief that you feel? Your emotions are a mess, due to a lack of eating and bodily fatigue. While Childe is unpleasant company, Scaramouche is equally awful, even going so far as to restrain you. You curse yourself for almost preferring being subjected to Childe’s self-serving antics over this. At least Childe gives an illusion of freedom, even if you know it’s only that, an unobtainable reality. When he doesn’t make any movement to leave, the agent speaks up again. “My lord? What should I do?” 

“Did you tell him to leave?” “As you commanded to, yes. I’m afraid he... insisted.” 

“Of course the lovesick puppy did,” Scaramouche shakes his head. “No matter. I’ll deal with this myself. Head back and tell him to await my arrival.” 

The term ‘lovesick puppy’ brings questions anew, as you’re solid in the belief what Childe feels for you isn’t love. Voicing this sentiment won’t get you anywhere, so you resolve to hold your tongue, silently steaming in your indignation. 

The agent’s body stiffens and they clear their throat. “T-that’s the other issue, my lord. I’m afraid he’s… coming as we speak.” 

Scaramouche doesn’t seem visibly bothered by the revelation, treating it as a mild thorn in his side than an urgent dilemma. You’re left speechless by the unfolding events, looking past the kneeling agent expectantly. Would you finally be able to leave this awful prison? You’d be going into the hands of one madman to the other’s, but the option is sounding oddly appealing at the moment. 

Scaramouche returns his attention to you, appearing pleased with himself. “Be sure to tell him what you said to me earlier.” 

Shifting uncomfortably where you stand, you look to the side, preferring not to be subject to his scrutinizing gaze. Objecting to Childe has never ended well for you. Then there’s the problem of Scaramouche -- how would he react to blatant disobedience -- is it possible his response would be worse for you? While you consider these things, Scaramouche starts to work on loosening your bonds. 

He presses his lips against your ear and the ropes hit the ground.

“Or I might just say it myself. Your choice.” 

[pfaerie]

actually i’ve been thinking abt it all day here is my hasty scrawlings from just waking up

they were on a trip out of the state (senior trip maybe) and the crux of it was they got separated from the rest of the group and Daniel started bitching about how nothing ever goes right for him and this is just his luck and Johnny was like "what the fuck do you mean nothing ever -- everything ALWAYS goes RIGHT for you" and Daniel was like "excuse me? We're literally lost right now??" And then he listed some of the things going wrong including getting paired off with Johnny at all.

And Johnny. Got so unreasonably mad and upset and listed off all the things that goes right for Daniel (girlfriend, good grades, won a karate tournament when he wasn't even good at karate, gets Johnny in trouble, etc) in a mocking Daniel impression to which Daniel was like "my girlfriend DUMPED me, my grades are average, and I never WOULD HAVE BEEN IN THE TOURNAMENT HAD YOU JUST LEFT ME ALONE IN THE FIRST PLACE" and Johnny just like was like "yeah, fine. It's all my fault. Everything is fucked up because of me. Whatever." And Daniel said "finally we agree on something" but instantly regret that bc Johnny just like, immediately shut down?? Didn’t explode at him just crossed his arms and bit his tongue and didn't say anything and Daniel wanted to say sorry but Tommy found them and yelled "FOUND THEM" to the group and Johnny retreated away so fast he didn't even listen when Tommy joked everyone was worried he'd snuck off to murder LaRusso (which like, from Johnny's POV just sucks bc everybody just thinks he's a dumb violent goon still huh! Literally the only thing he's fighting is tears rn)

I'm pretty sure later Daniel tries to talk to Johnny at dinner but johnny is ignoring him hardcore and refuses to say anything to him at all which frustrates Daniel bc wow Johnny is surprisingly!!! good at the silent treatment.

They are sharing a hotel room (sadly there was more than one bed) and Daniel genuinely cannot take it, sitting in the room listening to Johnny brush his teeth in the bathroom and he winds up slamming the door totally open and being like "you cannot CARE that deeply about oral hygiene, Christ Johnny, it's been 7 minutes" and Johnny just glares at him and pointedly brushes more just to be annoying. And Daniel’s like "You're going to erode away your teeth like that" which does set Johnny off again bc if he has to hear one more criticism he might actually explode but then Daniel puts his hand up and says "kidding, kidding, it's a joke" and Johnny has to spit before saying "it wasn't funny" and wipes the toothpaste on his chin off the clean (Daniel’s) towel since Johnny's is currently a wet heap on the floor. He shoulders past Daniel and u know, gives off the air he doesn't wanna talk but of course Daniel is a chatterbox and won't fucking stop!!! Comments it's weird Johnny's gonna just, like, go to sleep. Just like that! And Johnny buries his head under his pillow til he hears the bathroom door close and the shower turn on and basically he is just going through it bc his crush (rightfully) hates him and it’s simply a lot of johnny pouting and pining all at once and also, y’know, generally feeling bad for himself (tbh i’m sure him n daniel simply do start to bond a little and they find our Things abt each other)

and anyways at the end of the trip they are packing and johnny figures, like, fuck it. he’s never gonna spend time alone with daniel ever again may as well as just kiss him to get it over with so he finishes up and does that and beats daniel to the bus and they don’t sit next to each other and johnny is listening to his walkman and looking out the window just generally feeling sorry for himself

and then i guess the school didn’t let them park there over the trip so everyone had to be picked up and they were waiting for their moms and eventually were the last ones in the car port and Johnny was very much ignoring daniel and also beet fucking red bc OH this is when he'd be alone with Daniel again and of course Daniel wants to talk about it and Johnny’s about to tell him they don't have to when Daniel kisses him back and it takes Johnny off guard and when Daniel pulls away he says "well, now we're even, so --" and HE'S BLUSHING TOO and says "you suck at kissing" and right when daniel’s about to complain, he tugs Daniel in to kiss him again and after Johnny says "it was a joke" and talk about fucking cheesy

Anybody else plagued with intense lawrusso dreams

[randomrosewrites]

The aftermath of the tempest

Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x GN reader Summary: Many, many years after Kaedehara Kazuha fled from Inazuma, a lot of things have changed, but his past burdens remain. Or, Kazuha has settled into his new life in Liyue, but still desires his home across the ocean. Words: ~2.7K Tags: Fluff, established relationship, Kaz and reader have a kid, gn pronouns for reader, kaz gets emotional at some point, implied beigguang as well

a/n: What's this? Rose is actually writing??!!

Read it on ao3!

The young girl furrows her brows, front teeth catching her lip as she stares at the board. She's in deep concentration, barely paying any mind to the sweets or the apple cider (poured within a much too expensive cup) beside her.

Her opponent, on the other hand, is the opposite, holding a cup of tea within her palms, white steam drifting from the cup the same colour as her hair. A mystical smile on the woman’s face gives nothing away.

The young girl places a hand on a chip. Then hesitates, thinking a moment more before making a move.

The woman sets her cup down, ruby eyes scanning over the board before she lifts a jewelled hand, moving chips across the board in great succession.

"And with that, I believe I win," Ningguang says. "You did very well this time."

The young girl pouts, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, don't tear up. It's alright," Ningguang produces a handkerchief and holds it out.

The girl takes it gratefully, hiding her face in the cloth. "Uh- huh."

Ningguang exhales. Children are so delicate, like the petals of glaze lilies. "How about you go to the other room? I'll clean up here."

The girl nods, and slides off her chair. "Can I take my juice?"

"Of course, you may. But remember to hold it carefully."

She nods.Holding the cup carefully with two hands, she slides open the silk screen and enters the next room.

Your head turns at the sound, looking up from your spot by the window: perched upon a lounge chair, feet up. You smile and gesture for the girl to sit beside you. She sets her cup down and crawls next to you, burying her face in your chest.

"How did your game go, Haruko?" You ask, combing her hair free of tangles.

Haruko shakes her head and a sniffle escapes her. "I lost."

You hum sympathetically, “I'm sorry. There's always next time. You and Lady Ningguang were playing for a really long time! Good job."

Harukao's grip loosens a smidge. "Thank you."

The screen door slides open again and Ningguang steps through. The material of her gold dress drags behind her as she walks, the movement smooth as water. She has a familiar treat nestled in the palm of her hands, a famous Liyue sweet candy.

You nudge Harkuo gently. She lifts her head, crimson eyes widening when she sees the candy. She scrambles out of your lap.

Seeing them side by side, Haruko looks more like Ningguang’s daughter than yours. Their eye colour and hair are almost identical. But Ningguang has high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, whereas Haruko has round, filled in cheeks, like her father.

"For you," Ningguang offers it to Haruko. "As thanks for an excellent game of checkers."

Haruko takes the candy with an excited beam on her face. "Thank you, Aunt Ningguang!"

“You are most welcome.”

With the candy, Haruko’s sadness about losing the match is all but forgotten. She rummages through one of the cabinets by the wall, pulling out a colouring book (A collection of cartoon-like Rex Lapis drawings in his dragon form) and the crayons that are specifically kept there.

Many years had passed since the first golden house went crashing into the ocean after the battle with the Ancient God Osial. But the loss only pushed Ningguang to rebuild the new one, bigger, more elegant, and efficient than the last.

Currently, it was parked atop Mount Tianheng, overlooking the harbour. It was fancy, the walls a rich cream and the floors polished dark brown. Some things had to be kid-proofed (especially when Haruko was younger and Beidou insisted on bringing her to visit.) But now, she’s old enough, and familiar enough with the building, that you’re not worried. Not even by the koi pond that circles the living room.

Ningguang plants herself across from you on the couch as Haruko begins to colour in Rex Lapis’ tail. “She’s growing bigger and bigger every day.”

You nod in agreement. “I swear, she’ll be taller than her father soon enough.”

Ningguang laughs. “Sooner or later.”

Haruko’s finished two drawings and is on the third when you look outside the window to the Port of Liyue harbour, glimmering with the midday sun. The familiar outline of the Alcor’s sail and ship dots the horizon. You stand up.

"Are you finished with your juice, Haruko? We're going to get ready soon."

She perks up. "Is dad here?"

You smile at her. "Yes. Almost. You want to be the first to greet him, don't you?"

She nods adamantly, hurrying to put away her things in their proper places.

"There are some ingredients in the kitchen if you'd like to prepare a lunch before you depart," Ningguang suggests.

“Thank you,” you say to her, before turning to your daughter. “What would you like to make?”

She thinks for a moment. “What do you think dad would like?”

“Hm. Anything that isn’t fish,” you make your way to the kitchen, Haruko following closely behind. “After a month at sea, I think he’s sick of fish.”

---

Lunch made and packaged, you and Haruko begin the long walk down to the Port. Steps of green plaustrite appear as you walk. They used to frighten Haruko terribly. Now, though, she loves the way they appear under her feet and disappear when she steps off.

“Watch your steps,” you remind her. Though you trust Ningguang’s architects, you want her to be careful.

“Uh-huh,” Haruko says, half-listening. She’s always distractible on these types of days.

Kazuha isn’t a frequent member onboard the Alcor anymore, but occasionally Beidou will plead with him to accompany her. She says his anemo vision makes cutting through enemies so much easier.

Kazuha will go on month-long voyages with the Crux, maybe two months if he feels like it, but refuses anything more. He doesn’t want to spend time away from you or your daughter.

By the time you arrive at the docks, you’re sweating and the Alcor is pulling into the harbour. Haruko hops up on a dock anchor, waving to the ship.

“Hi!”

A deafening honk sounds from the ship, making Haruko laugh. Then again. Then once more. Honk honk honk honk-

Jeez, Ningguang can probably hear the boat from Mount Tianheng.

Haruko stands back just enough so that the sailors can tie the boat off and lower the gangplank, then she’s rushing onboard the ship. A woman hops down from the wheel, holding out her arms as Haruko leaps into them.

“Auntie Beidou!”

“Hiya Haru!” Beidou grins, swinging your daughter around in a bear hug, long brown hair flying everywhere. “How have you been? Jeez, you’re getting tall!”

“Good! Aunt Ningguang said she misses you.”

Beidou’s grin widens. “Has she, now?”

“Beidou,” you greet sweetly. (Walking on board with much more restraint.) “It’s good to see you’re well.”

Her eye softens. Haruko slowly slides out of her arms. “The same to you. I thought you guys were coming to meet us tomorrow?”

Your house, the one you and Kazuha have, is right on the border between Mondstadt and Liyue. It’s far from the port but it’s quiet, nestled by the beaches of Yaoguang Shoal.

“Well, Ningguang offered us to stay last night, so we did. Haruko wanted to see her dad as soon as possible.”

“Ahh, I see. Well, good to see you again.” Beidou turns to Haruko, mischievous smile on her face. “Your dad’s gonna be thrilled, watch this.”

She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Kaz!”

High up on the mast, a tuft of white hair pops out from the crow’s nest. You smile and give a wave. The tuft disappears, and quick as the wind, the man reappears, hastily scaling down the mast.

He jumps the rest of the way and rolls to his feet, brushing white hair from his eyes, and is promptly tackled by Haruko, nearly losing his balance.

“Daddy!” she squeals.

“Haruko,” Kazuha grins, hoisting her up to rest against his side. “It’s been so long. How are you?”

“Good, dad. How was your trip? What did you do? Did you see any scary monsters?”

“Scary monsters, hm, I may have encountered a few.”

“You gotta tell me over lunch – can we eat it in the bird's nest? We made lunch for you!”

“Crow’s nest,” Kazuha corrects gently. “And really? Wow. Did you help make it?”

“Uh-huh! But I’m not telling you what it is; it’s a surprise! You’ll have to open it like a present.”

“That sounds lovely, Haruko. Thank you.”

You walk up to them and press a kiss to Kazuha’s cheek. “Hi, Kaz.”

“Hello, love,” Kazuha purrs, leaning into your touch. “You look stunning.”

Beidou guaffs, Haruko’s nose wrinkles. “Ew.”

(She used to scream at Kazuha to stop whenever he’d recite sappy love poems to you, covering his mouth with both hands so he’d stop talking. It always made you laugh.)

You pull away from Kazuha and save your daughter and Beidou from your ‘gross’ affections. “The journey to Inazuma ok?”

His eyes briefly harden. He smiles tightly. “It was alright.”

There’s a hidden we’ll talk about this later in his voice, unnoticed by Haruko. She wriggles and Kazuha sets her down.

“Can we climb the mast now?”

Kazuha takes her hand, “Ask the captain.”

“Auntie – Captian Beidou, can we climb the mast please?”

Beidou ruffles her head. “Of course you can, kid. Keep an eye out for me on there, yeah?” Then to Kazuha. “I gotta run some errands on land. If I’m not back by the time you’re gone, thanks for everything.”

Kazuha raises a brow. “Might those ‘errands’ have anything to do with that golden brocade you bought?”

Beidou just waves and grins, trotting off the gangplank and jogging towards the Jade Chamber.

---

The crow’s nest is really only meant for one person standing up, much less three adults and one child, but you make it work. Haruko is obviously given the best seat, you’re squashed beside her, and Kazuha balances on the edge of the nest, legs dangling over the air.

“Why can’t I do that?” Haruko asks as you unpack lunch.

“Because it’s dangerous. Your dad’s very experienced and can catch himself if he falls.”

You’ve seen it happen many times before. Kazuha losing his footing or grip, that split second when he fell and your heart stopped. Then the gust of air that followed, propelling himself back up to safety.

“Once you’re bigger, you can do this,” Kazuha says.

Haruko huffs. “You always say that…”

He chuckles and pats her head. “We just want you safe, is all.”

You pass out bowls and chopsticks around. Kazuha helps affix a chopstick holder to Haruko’s (she’s getting better, but it’s still a challenge to her.) Haruko insists Kazuha close his eyes as you pour out lunch.

“Ok, you can open them!” she says once things are all set.

Kazuha opens his eyes. A steaming bowl of Jueyun Guoba rests in his hands. Juicy cuts of ham, crisp Jueyun chilis, and the rich aroma enough to make your mouth water.

“Ta-dah! What do you think?”

“Oh, Haruko, it looks divine. You made this?”

“Yep! Hurry and taste it!”

Kazuha takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Delicious. So tasty. Captain Beidou should hire you as a chef, or better yet, wanmin restaurant should hire you.”

Haruko grins ear to ear, “Hehe, thank you.”

As you all eat, Kazuha tells you all about the adventures from his trips. How he saw the most beautiful of flowers, or how he fought a translucent glowing eel, Captian Beidou cooked it up and ate it, how she was sick for three straight days afterwards.

Haruko listens to him intently, staring at Kazuha with such a light in her eyes that makes your stomach flutter with pride.

You snuggle closer to Haruko, wrapping an arm around her. The three of you like actual crows, tucked high away, safe from the clutches of the outside world.

---

Haruko wears Kazuha out that day.

She seems to want to do everything Kazuha missed for the past month in a single day. You told her she needn’t rush – Kazuha wasn’t going away any time soon - but that didn’t deter her in the slightest.

You soak your feet in the icy ocean and search for seashells in the sand. You catch crystal flies in the old ruins, delighting in the way Haruko’s face lights up when the yellow wings fade, leaving just the core. You scale one of the many stone cliffs just to enjoy the view as Kazuha plays a tune from a passing leaf.

On your way home, you get some mora meat from a vendor and share the remaining candies from Ningguang as the sun dips below the horizon. When Haruko’s eyes begin to droop, Kazuha carries her on his back the rest of the way home.

Kazuha brushes the hair from her face, kissing her forehead delicately. “Good night, my starlight. May your dreams be as sweet as shooting stars.”

“Poetic,” you murmur, barely containing a laugh.

Kazuha’s eyes gleam as the two of you tuck the covers tight around Haruko, kiss her once more for good measure, then gently close the door on her bedroom.

Finally, alone, Kazuha wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head against your shoulder and sighing.

“Tired, pretty boy?” you ask, a lilt of mirth in your voice.

Kazuha hums in agreement, releasing you to intertwine your fingers. He gazes at you, eyes-half lidded, and presses a smattering of kisses to your hand.

“Shall we go on a walk?”

You glance at Haruko’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry,” Kazuha reassures you. “The wind will watch over her.”

You’re tired, but you’ve also missed Kazuha enough to fight off your slumber. You both wrap up, then make the walk down to the sandy pools of Yougung. The full moon is high in the sky, the breeze cool against your skin.

“Things are still bad over in Inazuma,” Kazuha begins, softly. The wind almost carries his voice away. “It’s gotten better. The vision hunt decree is struck down. Some visions have been returned to the people, but things are still very tense over there…It’s not a place where I want to bring our daughter…”

You squeeze his fingers tightly. It’s felt like ages since you first met Kazuha, when he was just a spry young man onboard the crux. His hair was shorter, he still wore bandages over his arm to hide his injuries from escaping Inazuma.

Now, he lets his hair loose. He wears more Liyue-style clothing. His right hand – the one in your grasp, has healed. Though the physical pain has left, the scars remain.

“I miss my homeland,” Kazuha croaks. “I love what I have with you – I love our home. But a part of me feels forever trapped in Inazuma. Longing for it. I-” He shakes his head, speckles of crystal tears forming in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight.

“It’s alright, Kazuha,” you wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back. “I can’t begin to understand what that feels like…but I can be here to help you.”

“I just fear-“ he chokes, gripping your shirt. “I fear I’ll never be able to see it again. I’ll never get to bring Haruko to see the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring, or let her feed the cats that roam the islands like wanderers.”

Though you want to, though every part of you wants to assure him he’ll see it, you can’t promise him that. He knows it as well.

You comb your fingers through his hair as his tears stain your shirt. “If that’s the case - If things never get better in our lifetime - then we will make the most of it. Nothing lasts forever. Inazuma will one day change.”

You pull his head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. They’re red and puffy. You rub your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away tear tracks.

“But no matter what, we’ll see it through together.”

Kazuha covers your hand with his, leaning into your touch. “Thank you, love. I am forever grateful that I get to spend my life with you.”

You rest your forehead against his, pressing forward just enough so your lips touch.

“Forever,” you murmur. “And then beyond where the wind lies.”

[whumperooni]

Belonging

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: incest, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, mentions of being roughly handled by your big bros while daddy was away u.u

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is written in response to a big brained, beautiful minded nonny <3 I was going to put it in the answer to the ask but I’m gonna chuck this in ao3 too so I’m making it a separate post.

THANK YOU nonny for this /chef’s kiss of an ask and please feel free to slide into my inbox again because this is primo content right here.

I hope you enjoy your crumbs <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

How long has Enji been away from home? Two days? Three days? Four? Certainly not away long enough for you to be in this condition.

Enji frowns despite the sweet kisses you’re peppering all over his face and grabs onto your waist, lifts you up and holds you back so he can look you over. You’re a mess- bruises on your wrists and hickeys mottling your neck so much he can’t see a speck of your natural color. You look tired, worn out and Enji can tell that you’re exhausted, that things have been busy since he’s been away for his team up. He’s not happy about the vivid bruises on your thighs or the fading carpet burn on your knees. He is really not happy about the bandage on your forearm. Enji’s frown deepens and you grow nervous before him- smile twitching anxiously and hands clenching at the fabric of one of Touya’s shirts that you’ve been made to wear. When he puts you down and reaches to grab your arm, you flinch- barely noticeable, so tiny in your movement; something that anyone who wasn’t him would miss. Enji’s eyes narrow, big hand circling over your wrist and he tries to soften his expression when he feels you tense up underneath him. Whatever has happened while he’s been away is not your fault- he knows this. He is furious that you’re so skittish from it, though. Again, not your fault- his sons are sure to blame. “...what happened?” You tense up even more- eyes darting anxiously around the room and smile wavering and fading from your face. He thinks that you might pull away from him whenever he runs his thumb over the bruises on your wrists, but you remain as good and obedient as ever and simply twitch in place where you are standing. “N-Nothing, daddy,” you mumble, lips trying and failing to smile once more. Enji frowns at you and you squirm under your father’s stern gaze- anxiety whipping through you and upset starting to creep all over your face. “It was just...they didn’t mean…” Oh, yes, they did mean. Enji scowls and he sets his irritation toward the bandage on your arm, has to clench his free hand into a fist so he doesn’t hold onto you too tightly. “What is this from?” he demands. “Give me the truth, little one.” Your bottom lip quivers and he can tell that you are torn. You are such a sweet daughter, a sweet sister- you cannot bring yourself to lie to the father that you love so much but you also do not want to get the brothers that you hold dear in trouble either. You are a good girl- you should not be in this position right now. Enji breathes in deep and he lets it out slow, tries to keep a leash on his temper. You are the only thing he truly loves in this world- his little one, his youngest, his perfect little girl. He doesn’t want to see you cry over something your brothers have done. Enji huffs and he pulls you closer to him, picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist on reflex- arms looping around his neck and face burying into his chest as he positions you. There’s a quiet whimper from you whenever he cups your bottom and Enji feels his anger grow even darker when he feels you sniffle against him. “Are you sore there?” he asks, gruff as he totes you off to his bedroom. You don’t answer him for a  moment and even then you can only give him a tiny nod in response- arms clinging tighter to him. Enji lets out a tch and he’s careful as he sits down on the bed, as he sits you in his lap. Your upset is more than clear on your face now- bottom lip wobbling and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Enji frowns as your head lowers and he rubs your back with one big hand, touches your cheek with the other. “Did they spank you?” he asks. Your squirm in his lap- eyes averted and fingers curling into his shirt. Enji waits, patient, until finally your lips tremble and you give a tiny nod. “Touya-nii...he wasn’t...he wasn’t happy that I slept in Natsuo-nii’s bed,” you whisper. “They’ve been…” You trail off, nerves and upset skittering over your expression, and Enji grunts his annoyance as he eyes the bruises littered all over your body. “They’ve been fighting over you. Again.” A wince passes over you and you hang your head as if you are ashamed. There is a sniffle and that is all it takes to further cement Enji’s decision that his sons need a reminder of their place. “I- I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper- eyes wet, lashes wet, voice trembling. “I- I tried to be good so they wouldn’t fight, but- but Touya-nii told Natsuo-nii that I- that I belong to him and it made Natsuo-nii mad and then- then Natsuo-nii was sad after and I tried to cheer him up and then that made Touya-nii mad and then- then they started fighting and then they kept dragging me to their rooms and I couldn’t- I couldn’t make them happy and I’m sorry, daddy! I didn’t mean to make them fight!” Your voice pitches with a whine of a sob and Enji grits his teeth, wraps his arms around tight so he doesn’t let his temper explode. “It’s not your fault, little one,” he tells you- gruff, stern, but soft for him. You sniffle against him, tears wetting the fabric of his shirt, and Enji rubs your back, places a kiss to your hair. “Tell me how your arm got hurt.” You sniffle, again, and it is pathetic, weak. It grinds at Enji’s fury more, but he closes his eyes as you press against him and seek comfort. “I- I fell,” you mumble to him, voice wobbling. “N-Natsuo-nii was holding my hand and- and Touya-nii didn’t like it so he...he grabbed my other one and he yanked me away, but I- I lost my balance and I fell...I hit it against the table and it...cut me…” Your voice gets smaller and more quiet with each word- reluctance to get your brother’s in trouble making it so hard to admit what happened to your father. Enji’s control snaps as he listens and his fire flares from him- something he is quick to put out whenever he hears your panic sounding against his chest. Enji breathes in deep and he buries his face into his daughter’s hair, holds you just a little too tight in his arms. “...okay, little one,” he says once his temper calms down enough that he can talk without growling every word out. “Did anything else happen?” You shake your head against him and it’s a bit too swift of a denial for his taste. He senses that there is more- knows that there must be- but he does not push; he does not want his little one to collapse further into upset. Enji takes another deep breath and lets you go, cups your cheek to smooth away one stray tear. “You’re a mess,” he tells you. “Come- take a shower with me and then we will relax.” You nod- one small, upset sniffle leaving you- and Enji presses his lips to your forehead before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He strips you down and reduces Touya’s shirt to ash- letting it fall into the waistbasket with a scowl. You do not comment on it, but you hug yourself tight- eyes wide and worried and body littered with bruises. They have been especially rough with you this time and Enji is not pleased. He is careful with you as he washes you- big hands moving as gently as he can manage but still firm as he washes your tangled hair, scrubs down your tired body. You relax as he takes care of you, melt under his warm fingers and let out soft, sweet noises as your father eases the anxious tension that has wound your body up so tight. He kisses you when you tilt your head back to look at him- your eyes half-shut and sleepy, a serene look on your face as he runs his hands over your breasts. It is a chaste kiss- loving and brief- and Enji feels a certain satisfaction whenever you sigh after, lean against his broad chest. “Daddy takes good care of me,” you mumble- words fuzzy with exhaustion and the gooey warmth spreading through your body and making your mind melt from much needed tenderness. “Not like…” You trail off softly, guiltily. Enji knows what you mean, though, and there is pride in him from it- a possessive, vindictive pleasure as his little girl nuzzles against him adoringly. You are daddy’s little girl- you always have been and you always will be. Enji finishes cleaning you and he sets you out of the shower to wrap yourself in a towel and wait for him. Your clumsy attempts to clean him before he does are cute, but he knows that you are tired and does not wish to push you just yet- he has plans and he needs you to rest while you can. He cleans himself and you wait for him obediently- wrapped up in a towel and yawning, propped up on the sink where he had sat you down. Seeing him emerge from the shower is a treat- water steaming from him and dripping down rippling muscles, through chest hair and a thick happy trail. A soft noise leaves you as you watch him dry himself and your cheeks pinken without notice despite heavy eyes and a fuzzy, tired mind that’s begging for sleep. Enji watches your soft thighs rub together and he goes to you, kisses you like you deserve- lovingly, hungrily but not forcefully. He breaks it once a sweet, low moan sounds from you and then he kneels, parts your legs and hooks them over his shoulders before burying his face into the honeyed crux of his little one. The bathroom echoes with your whimpers and mewls as Enji runs his tongue through your folds and burrows his tongue deep inside your cunny. He keeps your hips still whenever they begin to twitch, but he allows you to grab onto his hair, grunts with approval when you arch your back and whine out a needy little, “Daddy, please!” You come whenever he slips a thick finger into you- slick and warm insides fluttering and clamping down onto the digit as you cry out, grip his hair tight. Enji works you through it and he slips a second finger in at the peak of your orgasm, makes it trip into another and has you whimpering, gasping out “daddy, daddy, daddy!” “That’s right, little one,” he praises- voice coming out low and husky as your cunny clenches and cums around his fingers. “Who makes you feel good?” “Daddy does!” Enji hums, pleased by your mewled answer, and he allows you to ride out your pleasure before slipping his fingers from you. You look so sweet as you pant and flush- so worn out and vulnerable; a tender girl flustered by the dulcet, mellowed pleasure that you have been craving for days. You whimper whenever Enji stands- arms reaching for your father and eyes bright with needy tears. He picks you up and he kisses your cheek, cups your bottom whenever you wrap your legs around him and teases your wet, fluttering hole with a stretched out finger as he totes you off to the living room. The boys are there- arguing as always, in each other’s faces with heated, hissed words and glaring eyes- and they only look up when Enji slips a finger inside your cunny and coaxes a moan from you. Their reaction is immediate- heads snapping up and shock halting their anger only to multiple it. Touya’s lips pull back into snarl and Natsuo’s eyes widen, narrow as he watches your hips grind down against Enji’s finger. Enji glares them down as he eases another finger into your eager cunny, kisses your cheek when you whimper and cling to him even tighter. “Little one,” he asks, voice gruff but calm even as he glowers down at the furious brats that he calls sons, “who made you feel good earlier?” “Daddy did,” you mewl out- sweet and sleepy and showing the pleasure that is slowly wrecking your tired body. Enji hums and he spreads another finger to smooth over your clit, makes you moan softly and try to grind your hips against him. A growl rips from Touya and your lashes flutter from it, a tiny noise of worry leaves you and is instantly forgotten when Enji curls his thick fingers inside of your honeyed insides and causes your mind to blank from pleasure. “And who is making you feel good now?” Enji demands- hard and nearly imperious as you tremble and cling tighter to him. “D-Daddy is!” “Do you want your brothers to fuck you, little one?” Enji asks, narrowing his eyes in challenge when Touya takes a step toward him. A hiccup of a sob leaves you and you shake your head, bury your face against him with a whimper. Enji’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk and he pushes you to answer with, “And why is that?” Another sob and you shake as guilt, frustration, repressed anger and upset at your brothers twine through you along with the honeyed, warm pleasure that your father is giving you. You sniffle- hips rocking against thick fingers and your syrupy, sticky juices leaking from you and coating your father’s hand. “Because- because,” you whimper as your heart pounds and your cunny throbs with need. “Because they’re- they’re mean! I don’t want- I don’t-” Guilt causes you to whine against your father and Enji hums as he teases a third finger against your entrance, looks over his sons. Touya is furious- hands clenched into tight fists and shaking with anger that’s close to exploding out. Natsuo, at least, has the decency to look guilty, ashamed. He ducks his head and looks away as Enji spreads your little cunny wider and makes you cry out as he slowly stuffs your squishy, warm insides full even more. “Who do you want then?” Enji asks- voice low and gruff. He grunts as your insides spasm around his fingers and his cock flexes against himself- hard and big and so ready to fill his sweet baby girl. “Who do you want to fuck you, little one?” You choke on a sob- the questions overwhelming your tired mind and your body racing toward another orgasm. You arch against him, head tilting back with a cry whenever he places a hot kiss to your neck. You can’t help the way you pant and shake against him and you can’t help your answer either, the way you moan out a loud, needy, truthful- “Daddy! Want- I want Daddy!” You cry a little after from guilt and need and the pleasure that is making your mind melt and your head spin. Enji lets out a growl of satisfaction and he slips his fingers from you- soothing you with a kiss whenever you let out a panicked whine. Enji slides you lower down his waist and presses the head of his cock against your fluttering hole, looks at his sons with challenge and superiority in his eyes, the set of his lips. “And who do you belong to?” Enji asks- voice low and demanding, making a desperate shiver crawl up your spine. You whimper and you lift your head from him, turn it so you can look at your brothers. There is no fear in your gaze- not like how there was over these past few days whenever they yanked you to and fro between them- and you shudder against your father- eyes heavy and cheeks flushed, body soft and pretty and clinging to him with pressing, loving adoration and need. “Daddy,” you mewl out sweet as honey. “I belong to daddy.” “Good girl,” Enji murmurs to you, sliding his cock into your eager cunny. “My good girl.” Choked anger tears itself from Touya and he snaps out a “fuck you” to Enji before stomping out of the room- singing the doorframe whenever he slams his hand against it in fury. Natsuo is frozen in place- eyes wide as he watches you come along your father’s cock- and he flushes from frustration, from anger whenever he finds himself hardening at the sight of Enji’s dick stretching your pussy and making your glistening folds part as he slides into you slowly. He clenches his fists whenever your moan and then he stomps out of the room- angry and needy as your chanted mewls of “daddy, daddy, daddy!” sound behind him. Enji smirks as his sons flee in a temper tantrum, smiles as he kisses your cheek and rocks his hips up to make you moan and go limp against him in pleasure. You nuzzle against him with a needy, tired whine and Enji hums his satisfaction at that, turns to carry you back to his room and his bed. “Shh, little one,” Enji tells you. “Daddy will take care of you.” A whimper leaves you and you tremble before giving a weak nod against him, clench around his cock even as he slips out of you to lay you out on his bed. “Love you, daddy,” you slur out through your pleasure and exhaustion, the overwhelmed feeling making your mind melt. “Love you so much.” Enji braces himself over you and he kisses your forehead, soaks in the soft mewl that sounds from you as he sinks his cock back into your honeyed insides. “I love you too, little one,” he tells you. “My little one.” You nod, panting and dizzy, and Enji kisses you, starts to fuck you slowly. You’re his. You will always belong to your daddy.

[catboynecromancy]

The first time Adam and Ronan share a bed they're both a little hesitant at first because of the enormity of everything: their feelings for each other but also everything they've just gone through. They're lying next to each other not quite touching but almost. Adam wants to reach out to him but is overthinking it when Ronan just lets out a small breath and pulls Adam to him. Adam, secretly pleased, takes a moment to himself with his face tucked in Ronan’s neck but he reaches for Ronan’s hand and links their fingers together, and it grounds him enough so he can pull his face away from Ronan’s neck and kiss him and he thinks about how he's never had someone to kiss goodnight before.

"Bedtime, Parrish."

Ronan kicks at Adam's ankle with his barefoot. The sudden, unexpected touch jolts him awake from where he's been dozing on the couch for an undeterminable length of time. Last Adam remembers, the late afternoon sun was still up, spilling in through bay windows and keeping him warm much the same way a blanket might. Now, however, the living room at the Barns is dark and the only light is artificial, fluorescent, providing no comfort whatsoever.

"Mm," Adam responds, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes but his vision is bleary, spotty. His lids are heavy from the sort of exhaustion that is not only physical but mental, too. "Don't wanna move."

The other boy tsks and, though Adam can't see it, he knows there is a scowl on Ronan's lips.

"C'mon, you need a good night's sleep," he says, voice still hoarse despite it having been days since the terrifying predicament that nearly tore their lives apart. "Can't get that on the couch, so get your lazy ass up. Not gonna carry you."

Adam considers the benefits and disadvantages of refusing. On the former, curling up right here is easy, he wouldn't have to stumble upstairs to Ronan's bedroom, and he'd be a safe distance from the boy he so desperately wants to touch but is still scared of breaking into a thousand tiny pieces after everything that has happened. The latter would be how the couch is old, cushions a little too broken in, there's no warmth to be had down here, not anymore, and no Ronan. There's not enough space for both of them to sleep, at least not comfortably.

"M'getting up." Even though Adam says this, it still takes him a lot longer than it probably should to slowly, clumsily peel himself off of the couch and stand with a stretch-yawn combo. He rubs his still cloudy eyes, his weariness seemingly neverending.

Yeah, maybe Ronan is right. Maybe Adam does need to sleep properly.

Ronan gently puts his palm to the small of Adam's back, the ghost of a touch, and still, despite that he can still feel heat through the thin fabric separating them.

He allows himself to be led upstairs, going through the motions of brushing his teeth while Ronan makes himself scarce. Leaving his jeans and socks in a sloppy pile on the bathroom floor, Adam finds his way into the familiar childhood bedroom where they'd shared their first kiss what feels like an eternity ago yet hasn't really been much time at all.

They haven't spoken about that night, not yet, whatever they are is still undefined. Adam wants to ask, but he's scared. Not of Ronan, no, he knows Ronan would never hurt him on purpose. What Adam is scared of is himself; he's scared of how much he wants Ronan, of taking too much, devouring everything because his desires are insatiable, until Ronan has nothing left to give and Adam is left still wanting for more.

"Be back. Better be comfy before I get back, or else." It's a fake threat, a Ronan Lynch specialty. He waits for Adam to nod his assent before he excuses himself.

Alone now, Adam stands there awkwardly, listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, the crickets chirping outside, and his own, wavering breathing as his nerves grow. He doesn't know how much time passes, the only answer is enough, because he soon hears the bathroom door slam shut and Ronan stomping down the hall. Remembering the not-threat, Adam scurries onto the bed, just managing to pull the heavy comforter over himself when Ronan walks through the threshold.

Adam holds his breath as Ronan crawls on the mattress to join him, holds his breath when Ronan grabs a corner of the same blanket to cover himself, holds his breath as they settle close enough for the other's presence to be apparent but not overbearing. Ronan is there, so close all it would take is for one, or both of them, to shift just an inch, maybe two, and bridge the distance. So close it would be nothing at all, yet is somehow everything to him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, forces the thoughts down. This is fine, for now, because Adam doesn't know where the line is drawn between them. Best to let Ronan decide, he's the one who initiated this, after all, and he's the one that has some semblance of self-control. Laughable, really, how Lynch is the mature one in this situation. Really says a lot about Adam, how he can't restrain himself when he thinks there is even the slightest thing to be gained and hoarded.

But, God, he wants to just touch Ronan, and is that so bad? Is that so selfish of Adam? To demand the affection he's so desperately wanted his entire life?

Ronan lets out a soft breath and, suddenly, strong arms wrap around him. He tugs Adam until their ribs fit together like matching puzzle pieces and a surprisingly muscular leg nudges between his, limbs tangling. It's everything Adam has wanted and more, his head spins from a mix of exhilaration and nerves, the potential between them paralyzing.

Adam tilts until his face is buried in the crux of Ronan's neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of pine and lemongrass and sweat. It's familiar, soothing, but not quite enough. Underneath the blanket, the hand not smushed between them reaches, searching, until he finds Ronan's hand and twines together slightly trembling fingers.

Warmth radiates from one calloused palm to another, spreading through Adam, filling him with enough confidence to pull away and offer a shaky but cheery smile. He catches a glimpse of the look being returned right before swooping up, capturing Ronan's lips with his own. There's a spark and Adam can't tell if it's really there, if he's imagining it, if Ronan can feel it, too. Adam hopes it's not just him, prays to a God he's not even sure exists, because now that he finally has someone to kiss goodnight, he never wants to go without.

Like air, water, food, shelter, kissing Ronan is a need, not a want.

Adam pulls back but not far, his lips brushing Ronan's as he whispers, "'Night," and brushing as Ronan returns, with a reverence Adam could grow used to, "'Night."

[angelfishofthelord]

📓?

because i know you like that good fucked up angst imma give you my most angsty ideas. major tw self harm so i'll put it under the cut:

so its also a s9 cas idea. sort of set around 9x11, but cas is still human. anyways the main concept is that cas has been self-harming, but because cas doesn't have a concept of self, or body shame, he genuinely doesn't see anything wrong with it. he knows from experience that other people feel uncomfortable seeing scars so that's the only reason he hides it. and sam comes across him cutting himself and is horrified, and cas is completely nonchalant, like "oh so you're also one of those people who don't like to see this" and sam is like what?? people?? this ensues a lengthy conversation about self-harm, and cas explains that self-harm helps him survive being human; he's like "soldiers do whatever they have to in order to survive. this is helping me function. this is a good strategy." and sam has to try and Convince him that it's not but cas is like im not harming myself in a lethal way. whats wrong with this. it Helps me.

and sam asks him well have you thought about killing yourself? and cas says "no its not allowed." sam thinks he's referring to some kind of religious idea of suicide being forbidden and cas is like "for a soldier the only thing worse than losing a battle is to run from it. my training as a soldier prevents me from being able to kill myself. if i held a different position it might be acceptable" and sam just wants to cry.

anyways. they have a very long talk about self-harm and mental health and when it comes down to it sam tells cas that there Are other ways of coping, less harmful ways like talking to someone. and cas is like no i can't talk about it. and thats the crux of the whole fic. cas is like i cant look someone in the eye and admit weakness. thats not a feasible strategy for survival. i can manage on my own.

in my head eventually sam convinces cas to talk to him. but cas makes sam leave the room and listen from outside the door. like the only way cas can admit to how much mental emotional and physical pain he's in is if he feels like no one else is there and no one's listening.

[heavenbarnes]

do not adjust your set

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: cyber sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbating, toy use, swearing

Word Count: 2.1k

the working title was “bucky and the cam girl”, so that is essentially the crux of this and i hope you enjoy x

Bucky understood the general anger towards social media, the way the world seemed to form an obsession with it and take away from the essence of real life.

But there are things about it you just cannot fault.

There were menial things he liked, the fact he didn’t have to leave bed to ask Sam to make him a coffee, or the way he could talk to his friends in real-time despite them being on missions a million miles away.

However, there was that one thing that he just couldn’t get over.

The world may not have the flying cars that were promised for the future, but you know what the world did have?

The sweetest little lady, sitting pretty and doing the naughtiest things, right on your screen. 

You could keep your flying cars, as far as Bucky was concerned, this was the pride of the future.

It’d been Scott Lang that’d first introduced Bucky to the wonders of internet porn during his immersion into the modern day. In the friendliest nature, he sent him a link and explained the very basics, Bucky picked up the rest on his own.

The videos on the site weren’t exactly, friendly? Most of it was incredibly violent and slightly gross, he wasn’t sure if it was his thing. He liked to get rough with a girl, don’t get him wrong, but something about this just wasn’t doing it.

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure how he stumbled upon cam-sites, but once he did, he realized he’d found his speed. Scrolling through the layers of colorful squares, his eyes glazed over the multitude of beautiful ladies, but none stopped to catch his eye.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he knew he was looking for it.

It wasn’t even clear to him what it was about her, but he knew well and good that she’d not only caught his attention, but the hold she already had on him was something wicked.

Bucky fucking loved the internet.

And that was how it went, joining her room in the evening like it was part of a daily routine. Have dinner, wash dishes, go to bed, watch Honey.Ryder in all her glory.

She went by Honey, and Bucky thought that was incredibly fitting. She was sweeter than anything he could’ve conjured up in a dream and when the sunlight hit her through the window? You would’ve thought she was born to the hive, surrounded by workers and royalty.

Honey was more than pretty, beautiful in ways that Bucky hadn’t been taught the words for yet. Her beaming smile that warmed you from the inside out, could drop into a filthy smirk within a moment, turning that warmth into a crackling flame.

Bucky was grateful for pretty girls armed with pink hitachi wands, and the wonders of the 21st century.

Locking his door behind him signified the end of his worries, it was the end of the day and there were no more expectations of him. He was allowed to slip under the covers of his bed and forget everything except a pretty young girl in matching lace.

Undoing the heavy clasp of his belt, Bucky stripped himself of the day’s pressures. He peeled the jeans from his legs, toeing his socks off in the process. His fingers gripped the neck of his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it in the pile.

He brought his hands down his face, a deep sigh leaving his body, making him feel almost new. This part of his day was almost ritualistic, but it was almost imperative, without it he’d be strung up and unbearable.

Sliding between his sheets, he pulled his laptop up the bed towards him. He had her page saved under a folder called “instruction manuals” because Bucky had no idea how to put a password on his laptop.

Somehow he had managed to learn how to tip on this cam-site, but even that was a miracle for him. Thankfully he had learnt, because Honey became simply delightful whenever that tipping bell sounded. He’d give up his life savings if it meant he’d always get to provoke those kind of reactions from her.

Honey lit up his screen in shades of red lace, the dim lighting of his room taking on a rosy hue. Perched up on her knees, she lent towards the camera so all those in the chatroom had the most perfect view down her bra.

“Good evening, how are we all doing tonight?” The lilt of her voice was enough to have Bucky stirring in his boxers.

The other members were quick to type out their responses, Bucky wasn’t one for that, he was there to hang back and throw around his money. He was well aware of the fact this was a one sided arrangement, as much as she drove him wild, he knew she was here for one thing only.

As warped as it might sound, the thought of her taking his money and spending it on herself? That wound him up something wicked.

The minute Honey began to put on her show, Bucky wasn’t able to stop himself from gently running his fingertips along the tense muscle of his torso. He could feel the skin rising in bumps in the wake of his touch, the hardening in his briefs a direct result.

Honey’s voice trailed through the speakers with notes of praise, dripping in arousal as she dragged the straps of her bra down her shoulders. Bucky’s eyes followed the path as he slowly moved his hand closer to where he ached for her.

She sat up, shoulders back to accentuate the curve of her body. Bucky’s mouth damn near watered at the sight of her, heaven sent and always righteous. Her fingers trailed up her side, pushing her chest up until it was threatening to leave the confines of her bra.

Watching her remove the clothing, Bucky gripped himself tight through his briefs, involuntarily thrusting up into his palm. The way she gripped at herself, tweaking on her nipples and whimpering so gently at the feeling. His free hand found its way to the “tip” button.

CallMeSarge has tipped $25

Honey’s eyes lit up as she heard the bell, before her lids dropped into a feverish gaze. He knew she was looking at the lens of a camera, but if he didn’t know any better he’d think she was looking into his soul.

“Thank you so much, Sarge,” The name rolling off her lips like a sigh. “It’s always good to see you.”

He’d never admit it, but the sentiment made Bucky’s chest tighten in an instant. Honey drifted her fingers along the band of her red hot panties, toying with the elastic as she rose up on her haunches.

“Because you’re always so kind, I want you to choose how I take off my panties, Sarge.” 

Bucky nearly choked on his tongue, fingers scrambling to type out his message. He wrote it and re-wrote it a couple of times before finally being able to get his fantasy out.

“lying on your back with your legs in the air, please”

Her eyes sparkled at the kind-hearted command, slowly nodding in agreement with his words.

“Sir, yes sir.” She giggled, left eye dropping down into a wink.

What would’ve been a throwaway comment for her, strummed a chord deep within Bucky that had his hips raising straight up into his hand. A wet spot was forming against the crotch of his briefs, cock aching to be released from the confines.

Honey gently lent back, kicking her legs into the air until her face was out of frame. Her pussy was barely covered by the scandalous fabric and you didn’t have to strain to see the way she was already dripping.

Looping her fingers in the sides, she brought the garment down over her ass, trailing it up along her thighs. Soon her sweet little cunt came into view of the camera, glistening in the lights of her room.

Peeling the along her body, she unhooked them from around her foot and tossed them off to the side. Gripping a thigh in each hand, she spread her legs apart until they were nearly against her chest. Bucky immediately dipped his hand into his briefs, placing a firm grip around his cock.

She rolled back up to sitting, legs still spread to give a good view of her pussy. Soon her other viewers flooded the chat with tips, the sound ringing out every couple of seconds. Bucky didn’t mind, it allowed him to fall back into the crowd, an encouraging donation every now and then.

He focused on the way his fist felt as it twisted along his length, fingers rolling up and over the head as he watched her. She reached beside her and brought that pink wand, switching it on until the low rumble of the vibration was a background noise.

Honey lay it down on the bed, kneeling over it until the head of the toy was positioned at the meeting of her thighs. Sitting down against it, she let out a sharp gasp as the vibrations moved straight through her. 

Bucky sped up the movement of his hand to match the rolling of her hips against the toy. She rode it steadily, soft cries and moans steadily slipping past her lips as she bounced on it.

Her hands ran back up along her sides, cupping her breasts as she thrashed her hips under the pressure. Bucky let his other hand leave the tipping system for a moment, coming to cup his balls and roll them around his fingers.

His stomach was still tightening, which every stroke of his hand he felt the heat spread across his lower body. His thighs tensed as nerve in his body was being touched at every moment.

Honey cried out, head tipping back and pussy quivering at the overwhelming sensation seated below her. She brought two of her fingers to her mouth, dipping them past her lips and wrapping around them. Sucking the digits, the sounds were muffled by the motions.

Bucky stuttered an embarrassing moan, the sight of her pretty lips pouted around her fingers. You couldn’t blame him for imagining it was his cock, perched against her tongue and dripping wet as she gagged on him.

He knew her fingers would feel better than his, they’d grip his cock and rub along the sensitive vein so tenderly. She’d be the one with a handful of his balls, her tongue would twist around them and that fuse within him would burn to the hilt before eruption.

“I’m-I’m gonna-oh fuck,” Honey’s breathing stuttered as her fingers fell from her mouth and gripped at her breast.

The grip on Bucky’s cock got tight, Honey tight. His back arched back off the pillows as his head tipped to the wall. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, choking back the cries that desperately wanted to fall into open air.

She tipped her head forward, moans naturally rolling off the tongue as her hips bucked wildly against the head of the wand. Her free hand gripped the blanket, balling it up in her fist as she fell back of the toy.

Legs spread and hand at her clit, she quickly rubbed her fingers as her back continued to rise off the bed. Her toes were curling and jaw slacked as she came with the most bewitching whine.

Bucky delivered one more tip before his tension snapped, ropes of white painting his closed fist as he watched the girl unravel in front of him. His chest heaved as he shook with his release.

Honey, as always, was painted with an almost glow at the aftermath of her high. Skin as sweet as honey, worth all the riches in the world.

Sparring with Sam in the gym, Bucky heard the interruption of Tony giving the grand tour to his new assistant. Tony had told everyone about her, but if he was being honest, he didn’t really take in a whole lot of what Tony said these days.

“And here you’ve got the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky straightened up and turned to face the two, immediately his throat grew dry at the sight in front of him. Honey was standing beside Tony, picking up a side job shuffling his papers.

She gave them both that sweet smile he’d seen so many nights before, a shy hand raising to offer a wave. Sam stepped forward to take the hand to shake.

“Please, just call me Sam.”

Bucky stepped forward to shoulder him.

“And you can call me Sarge.”

[lucemferto]

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT PH1LZA (or Why Philza is a Victim of Narrative Circumstance)

Heyo! Per request I am posting the script to my video of the same name here on tumblr. I must warn you that just reading the script will probably not give you the full experience, so I would encourage you to watch the video (linked above).

There might also still be a lot of grammatical errors in the text, because I don’t proofread.

Intro

LAST TIME ON LUCEM FERTO

Okay, so! I don’t want this to turn into a reaction channel OR a Dream SMP channel for that matter! [echo]

Well, I lied.

[Intro to “Luc is pretentious about the funny blockmen. Episode 2”]

I swear, I’m working on other stuff. It’s just that my dumb lizard brain has only capacity for one interest at a time!

So, something you might not know about me, is that I am on tumblr – who am I kidding, most of you will know me from tumblr. Before starting this whole YouTube thing, I thought that website died years ago – but as per usual reality proves me wrong. I’m also on Twitter and Reddit, but I get the most engagement on tumblr – by far! – and I need those sweet, sweet numbers for the serotonin!

Anyways, one of my favourite past-times on tumblr is to razz Philza Hardcore Minecraft – that’s his full name – for being a frankly awful father [clicking away] – wait, wait, no! Philza fans, this isn’t a hit piece on him, I promise! Please come back!

This is video is meant to be a companion piece to my previous video about Technoblade and the Doomsday event – you can tell by the shared nomenclature – so you should probably watch that one before you proceed. Unless you don’t want to, which is also perfectly understandable.

DISCLAIMER: This video is mostly about the character Philza plays on the Dream SMP. Whenever I talk about the content creator Philza, I will say so properly. Also, Spoiler Warning for Dream SMP Season 2.

… What is that? You’re wondering what the Dream SMP is? Well, if you had just watched the other video like I told you to do, you would know, because I explained it pretty well there. But in case you don’t know, here’s the cliff notes.

Dream SMP is the hottest New Media Series on Twitch right now! It has it all: gaslighting, child soldiers, Machiavellian political intrigue, Hamilton roleplay, desecration of the dead, shounen protagonists, SO! MUCH! AMNESIA! Filicide, furries, a red egg that’s definitely homophobic and teenagers inventing nuclear warfare. And it’s all done in Minecraft – yes, the funny block game where the only way to emote is to crouch.

And you say the perfect brief doesn’t exist!

Now, you might be wondering, why do I want to talk about this? Well, it’s because Content Creator Philza is one of least controversial internet personalities that I can think of. That man exudes pure comfort. So, it’s just very, very amusing to me that his character became one of the most controversial figures on the SMP, only outshone by Tommy and Technoblade.

And it’s not just amusing, it’s also extremely interesting! I want to dig deep to uncover and discuss the dynamics behind why that is. How did it come to this point? How did a man who appears genuinely so pleasant create a character that inspires so much discourse!

Now, if you watched that Technoblade video – like I told you to twice now! – you might know, that I am the resident character analyses hater of fandom! And that impression is false and slanderous! Don’t tell other people that I hate character analyses! I love them!

It’s just that, in the Dream SMP in particular, there is an abundance of character analyses! Every streamer has at least two very good essays written about them, exploring every possible angle to view their characters and backgrounds and everything. All I’m saying is: I don’t have anything to add on that front.

So, instead I want to pursue a different approach – something, that I feel is a bit underrepresented in the fandom! And I’m not just talking narrative analysis – that’s right, this episode we’re going even more pretentious! – I’m talking Transtextual Analysis!

Now, what is Transtextuality? Well, unfortunately it has very little to do with actual Trans people – #transrights, just in case that wasn’t obvious – but instead describes a mode of analysis with which to put – to quote French literary theorist Gérard Genette – “the text in a relationship, whether obvious or concealed, with other texts”.

Basically, you know how the L’Manburg War of Independence heavily quotes and borrows from the hit musical Hamilton? That’s transtextuality! A lot of the analyses surrounding how Tommy mirrors the Greek hero Theseus, who was invoked by Technoblade multiple times in the series, are already doing transtextual analysis! So, it’s really not something that’s new to the Dream SMP fandom.

But how does this apply to Philza and how he is looked at and judged by his parental skills? Well, there are multiple forms of transtextuality, two of which we will discuss today.

But before we continue, I gotta do that annoying YouTuber thing. I know these videos don’t look like much, but I spend a really long time making them. I work fulltime and I try my best to keep up, but sometimes I can’t. So please, like, subscribe, comment to give me some algorithm juice – I really need it – and most importantly share it! Share it with your friends, share it with your family – I’m sure Grandma is very interested in what I have to say about Philza Minecraft.

And I’m trying to be better! If I sound at all different for this video, it’s because I finally bought a new pop filter, so I can hit my plosives without it sounding like there’s a thunderstorm in my room. I hope it makes a difference; it was a very cheap pop filter, so maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it sounds worse – that would be bad!

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, CHILD NEGLEGT!

 Intertextuality: Why is Dadza?

You know what’s really interesting about the Dream SMP – aside from, you know, most things about it? Very few of the characters have concrete, fleshed-out backstories – and that’s pretty weird! In no other medium or genre could you get away with something like that – at least for long-form storytelling!

So, how does Dream SMP get away with this? Well, it’s because every character on the Dream SMP is basically a self-insert – and I don’t mean that in the “This character is based on me”-kinda way, but in the “This character, for all intents and purposes, is me!”-way. This, like many things that are fascinating about the Dream SMP, is owed to the fact that this series didn’t start off as a continuous drama – it started off as a Let’s Play.

And while we can talk about how someone’s on-camera/on-mic persona is in some ways a character, it’s still miles off of being an actual, fully-realized, separate character in a storyline.

This is where Intertextuality comes in.

Intertextuality is a subset of Transtextuality. It describes how the hypertext, which is the text, you’re currently engaged with, uses another text, the hypotext, to supplement itself. The interconnection the hypertext establishes with the hypotext, through stuff like allusion for example, uh-hum [Hamilton], can colour how an audience interprets the hypertext. Basically, Hamilton and Theseus are the hypotexts; the Dream SMP is the hypertext.

So, what does this have to do with backstory? Simple: The backstories of the characters in the Dream SMP consist basically of nothing but intertextual references. Through intertextuality their content effectively substitutes their character’s backstory.

You can see it everywhere. Wilbur’s and Schlatt’s relationship and rivalry is hugely enriched, if you are aware of their shared history like SMPLive, for example – I think anyway. I haven’t watched SMPLive, because … there’s only so many hours in the day and I cannot keep up with the Dream SMP and catch up on SMPLive and live a healthy life – which I already don’t do, so…

BadBoyHalo’s and Skeppy’s relationship, which has become the crux of the Crimson-Storyline of Seasons 2 and 3, is hugely supplemented if you know that they’re also very close as streamers and in real life.

Another great example of intertextuality is basically Technoblade’s entire deal. If you just look at him completely within the text of the Dream SMP and try to transplant his entrance to any other medium: It would be extremely weird! Like, he’s just this guy that comes in in the middle of a very climatic arc, no build-up, no explanation what his deal is, and he’s treated like he has always been there. In any other medium that just wouldn’t work – at least not without a flashback or some sort of exposition!

But because of stuff like Minecraft Mondays, the Potato Wars, his Duel against Dream and SMPEarth, we understand that he is a Big Deal!

Anyways, to bring all of this back to Philza Minecraft: What kind of hypotext informs how the audience sees his character? Well, this is where I will have to talk about SBI.

SBI is an acronym that stand for State Bank of India, the 43rd largest bank in the world and…

It also stands for Sleepy Bois Incorporated. Sleepy Bois Incorporated is a loose assembly of content creators, consisting of Philza, Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit and Technoblade. It is most well-known for its very endearing family dynamic – a dynamic that is frequently acknowledged and played up by the creators involved. Tommy is the youngest brother, Wilbur and Techno are the two older brothers and Philza is of course the dad. And when I say, it’s played up, I really mean it! Wilbur seems to be especially enamoured with the idea and leaves no opportunity untaken to bring it up – which we will come back to.

And I’m not saying that they’re faking this and this is somehow an act. While I know none of these people personally, it appears to me, that this is genuinely how they interact – if a little exaggerated for the streaming experience. Even when they’re not consciously playing into the family dynamic, their interactions still very much lend themselves to that interpretation by the viewers.

Philza especially just radiates Dad-Friend energy – so much so that it has become a huge part of his brand identity – yay, I can bring that back (check out my Christmas video if you want to hear me ramble about that). The nickname Dadza stuck even before SBI was a thing.

So, even if we completely disregard SBI – which we shouldn’t for reasons I’ll get back to – Philza has cultivated an image of strong paternal guidance. He is, in my opinion completely deservedly, regarded very positively. He is highly respected and in turn seen as a voice of reason.

All of this would eventually inform the hypotext of the character Philza within Dream SMP.

 Interlude: Before Dadza & November 16th

Okay, so now we have established that a) Dream SMP heavily hinges on intertextual readings by the audience to supplement character backstory and b) that Philza’s entire deal is that he’s the dad-friend – more specifically that he’s the dad of SBI (not the bank). I think you know where this is going.

So, yeah, ever since it was on the table that Philza could join the Dream SMP, it was immediately assumed that he would take on the paternal guardian role all these traumatized people on that server so desperately needed – and with good reason! Like I said before, the audience at this point was trained to take intertextual interpretations as basically canon or at the very least canon-adjacent.

I want to emphasize that this is most likely not done deliberately. I’m sure content creators Wilbur and Philza didn’t sit there and said: “Yes! We will rely entirely on the audience’s inclination to interpret our characters intertextually to define character Philza!”. Like, obviously that did not happen.

But it’s also important to remember that unlike with traditional media and the fanbases cultivated there, the separation between the Dream SMP and its audience is almost non-existent – and purposely so. The story events are streamed live, Chats are acknowledged in canon and even outside of livestreams creators are extremely involved with the fandom. So, the weight of fan-expectations is equally amplified and will more likely be incorporated into the writing process. Case in point:

[Wilbur “I miss Philza”/Philza about Wilbur]

During Wilbur’s villain arc, even before his official involvement, Philza became a prevalent point of discussion. The hope that he would be the one to snap Wilbur out of his downward spiral was not only wish-fulfilment on behalf of the fans; it also very much played off of the intertextual reading of the SBI-dynamic in relation to the Dream SMP.

Of course, this still doesn’t make Philza and Wilbur canonically blood-related – but it definitely used the “paternal”-dynamic of SBI to build-up tension and drama.

And that ultimately brings us to November 16th. The Grand Finale of Season 1 and Philza’s first canonical appearance on the SMP.

Now, for this I want to pull back from the transtextual analysis and talk about simply narrative analysis: What is Philza’s narrative purpose on November 16th?

Philza serves as the last threshold on Wilbur’s Villain’s Journey – to appropriate Vogler’s version of the monomyth for a minute here – he is what Vogler calls the “Threshold Guardian”. He is the last enemy the Hero faces before completing his quest – in this particular case Wilbur’s quest is to blow up L’Manberg. Multiple people have at this point tried to dissuade him from this course of action: Tommy, Quackity, Niki and others. So how come this Philza moment is not redundant in terms of dynamics compared to these prior scenes?

Well, it’s through our intertextual understanding of Wilbur’s and Phil’s relationship. Because Philza does not just occupy the role of the Threshold Guardian – he is also implicitly the Mentor. Before Phil there was no character in the storyline that held a higher position of moral authority than Wilbur – Dream and Schlatt, while at points more powerful in terms of actual authority, were never positioned by the narrative as Wilbur’s superiors in the same way as Wilbur was to Tommy, Tubbo or even Niki.

Before November 16th all challenges Wilbur faced were from people narratively subordinated to him. But that trend is broken with Phil. That is why he is the Threshold Guardian, why this confrontation is at the climax of Wilbur’s arc. Because Phil is the last thing tethering Wilbur to whatever morality he held before his villain arc; Phil is the last, moral obstacle Wilbur has to discard before gaining his reward.

And, just a quick sidenote, because I’ve seen it around the fandom a bunch: When I’m referring to Wilbur denouncing his morality, I’m using that in terms of narrative analysis. I’m mentioning it, because Wilbur’s character can very easily be read as mentally ill or neurodivergent and some people have – rightly! – pointed out that the excessive vilifying when talking about his character is … problematic, to say the least.

So, I just want to make clear, this isn’t a character analysis, I’m being purposely broad when talking about Wilbur and Phil.

In the end, Wilbur takes that final step and gets his “reward”: As his final request his mentor takes his life and vanquishes the evil – the dragon of Wilbur’s story slays the dragon of L’Manburg. It’s very Shakespearean in its tragedy – but beyond the larger theatrics it’s not really used to further characterize Phil – at least in the context of Season 1. There’s not a lot of focus on his characters internal conflict during November 16th.

Phil, like Techno, is very utilitarian in how content creator Wilbur writes him: He serves as a moment of hype; an obstacle Wilbur has to face; a participant in the tragic climax of Wilbur’s character and ultimately takes on his implicit and expected role of mentor and guiding figure to the rest of L’Manburg.

I think not a lot of people talk about how Philza does not join Technoblade during November 16th. He takes the side of L’Manburg – he fights against the withers and he joins Tommy, Tubbo and the others at the L’Mantree, thus framing him as loyal to the L’Manburg administration – even though Season 2 would make his loyalty to Techno central to his character. But more on that later.

What’s also important about November 16th is that this is the day when the general intertextual interpretation became canonized text.

[You’re my son!]

Wilbur is made Phil’s canonical, biological son. The intertextual interpretation of SBI as it pertains to these two characters on the SMP was completely reinforced by the narrative. Or to put it in Fandom terms: The headcanon became actual canon. At least when it came to Wilbur … but what about Philza’s “other” children?

Well, that leads to our second form of transtextual analysis:

 Paratextuality: Is Dadza?

These titles are just getting better and better.

The Paratext is defined as all those things in a published work that accompany the text. It comes in two forms: One of them is the Peritext, which are non-diegetic elements directly surrounding the text – like chapter titles, author’s notes, and stuff like that. Translated to the medium of the Dream SMP, it would be stuff like this:

[Examples]

And, trust me, I could make a whole separate video about how people on the SMP use their peritext as a tool for storytelling – I’m looking at you, Ranboo – but that’s not what we will talk about in the context of Dadza.

Instead, we will focus on the second form of Paratext, the Epitext, which consists of all authorial and editorial discussions taking place outside of the text. That’s stuff like interviews, private letters or J. K. Rowling’s Twitter Account – you know, before she decided to become a full-time asshole.

[Wilbur: Transrights]

After Season 1 ended, Wilbur indulged pretty heavily in providing epitext for the Dream SMP, something he had not done prior to November 16th. His paratextual additions ranged from the playful, like assigning DnD alignments to various SMP members, to the extremely impactful, like the whole three lives system!

You probably think, you know where this is going. Wilbur provided some epitext about how Tommy and Techno either are or are not biologically related to him … and I have to be honest I thought that too. But then I began looking into the impenetrable web that is the SBI-canon on the Dream SMP and found this!

[Ghostbur explains family]

So, it wasn’t paratext, it was just straight text. Said in character, in canon, without any implication that we the viewers should question this. The text of the SBI family dynamic was explicitly linked to Dream SMP-exclusive lore, namely Fundy being Wilbur’s and Sally the Salmon’s son. This is as clear as Philza’s anguished declaration on November 16th in establishing the intertext as text. And because Wilbur also had a very heavy hand in the discussion of paratext around that time, it gave his character’s words even more “canonical” weight. Metatextually speaking, this very much read like the author giving exposition through his character – exposition that we should understand as reliable.

And, by the way, before I continue, I need to give a huge, huge shoutout to kateis-cakeis on tumblr, I hope I pronounced that right, who was just so quick in providing me with these crucial clips. Without him I would have looked for days because these people don’t archive their shit! And the Dream SMP Wiki was NO help, by the way! I love what you guys do, but stuff like this belongs in the Trivia section on characters’ pages!

Anyways, basically during the entirety of early Season 2 the SBI family dynamic was basically canon to the SMP. Sometimes it was only alluded implicitly, again letting the intertext fill out the rest.

[Philza clips]

But just as often it was just explicitly talked about – both in the text and in the paratext.

[Fundy clip/Wilbur “Twins” clip/Tommy clip]

So, I know what you’re thinking: “Why is this part called paratext, if the entire family tree is just textual”. Well, that last clip might give you a hint, as to what I will talk about. Notice how Tommy, one of the people most directly impacted by the canonization of SBI lore, is both unaware of and seems generally unenthused about it, to put it nicely? Well, that would soon turn out to be a much bigger deal than anyone could have imagined as he wasn’t the only one.

[Technoblade decanonizes SBI]

Yeah …

This happened on 20th of December. Regular viewers of this channel will remember that I put out a 90-second joke video, where I complain about this very development. And while I was mostly kidding around, the core idea is still true. The paratext provided by Technoblade and established text were in direct contradiction with one another – and that brought a lot of confusion into the fandom. Confusion, that would soon be followed by frustration.

Because Techno only decanonized himself as part of the SBI family dynamic – but what about Tommy and Tubbo, the latter of which was incorporated into the dynamic exclusively within the lore of the Dream SMP. Was this still canon or wasn’t it?

What followed was a muddled mess of contradictions, intertextual implications, text and paratext in conflict with each another. It was for the most part inscrutable to figure out how Tommy and Philza related to one another. I’ll spare you every comment made about this – mostly because I want to spare myself from looking for all of them.

In the end, the current status is that their familial relationship is … unclear. Philza said, again in paratext, that it’s ultimately up to the writers to decide, whether or not Tommy is his son … which, I personally think he and Tommy should be the ones to establish that, but I’ll come back to that later.

But why is all of this important anyway? Why would this ambiguity create such an uproar, such controversy – especially when it comes to Tommy’s character? What makes Tommy’s and Philza’s relationship such a target for discussion in the fandom?

Well … this is where we will have to talk about the storyline of Season 2.

Interlude II: Tommy’s Exile and Dadza in Season 2

Okay, Season 2. This is where the spoilers are, so I will just sneakily drop this again. It took me five seconds to google this gif and I will milk it for every penny it’s worth!

At the beginning of Season 2, Philza’s narrative role has not changed much from where Season 1 ended. He is in L’Manburg dispensing earthly wisdom, being a paternal figure to Fundy, Ghostbur and Tubbo, helping with the nation’s rebuilding efforts; just generally occupying the role of the mentor.

[clips]

And then came … the Exile. The Exile Arc took place between December 3rd and December 15th during Season 2 of the Dream SMP. It revolves around TommyInnit getting exiled from L’Manburg and slowly getting psychologically tortured and broken down by Dream. It’s a really great arc, at least in my opinion, that explores and deepens a lot of Tommy’s character relationships, whether that be Tommy and Dream, Tommy and Tubbo or Tommy and Ranboo. One relationship, however, is noticeably missing.

So, yeah, Philza spends basically the entirety of the exile doing pretty much nothing of consequence. And that’s not a problem specific to him – One big criticism I would levy against the Exile Arc is that a lot of characters are left spinning their wheels. Which is why we get zany stuff like El Rapids, Drywaters, Eret’s Knights of the Roundtable, Boomerville – anyone remember Boomerville, that was a thing for 5 seconds, wasn’t it? – basically a lot of storylines are started and then unceremoniously dropped. Now, I will talk more about this, when I make a video about Season 2 of the Dream SMP … in ten years, look forward to it.

In the case of Philza, this inaction was especially damning, because at this point it was still a considered canon that he was Tommy’s dad. So, the fans were left with a situation, where just a few weeks prior Philza was occupying a paternal role for Fundy and Ghostbur … but now, that his youngest son was in a very concerning predicament – to put it lightly – he was nowhere to be found.

So why is that?

Well, the most obvious answer is that Dream and Tommy didn’t write him into the storyline. We’ve seen that Tommy wasn’t particularly interested in exploring a familial relationship to Philza, at least at the time. And it would just not fit in with what Dream and Tommy tried to do with the Exile Arc: they wanted to tell the story of Tommy being isolated, completely under Dream’s mercy, slowly worn down and manipulated. If Philza had been constant presence for Tommy during that time, it would have definitely shifted the narrative focus. That doesn’t mean that they couldn’t have done that, it’s just a matter of fact that they didn’t.

This also reveals another truth about content creator Philza’s character work, that I think is extremely crucial: He takes what the writers give him. Outside of a few choice moments, he doesn’t seem particularly interested in expanding or even solidifying his character on the SMP.

What I’m saying is that he is very go-with-the-flow: Wilbur wants to enact a Shakespearean tragedy? Philza’s up for it. Fundy wants him as a parental figure and mentor? Philza’s here for him. Tommy, conversely, doesn’t want him as a paternal presence, even though it would make sense for Philza’s character, as it was established so far, to be there? Philza will oblige.

The reason I’m mentioning this is because, while Tommy and Dream were unwilling to utilise Philza in their storyline, someone else was more than happy to. Which leads us back, like it always does, to everyone’s favourite Porky Pig-kinnie in a crown: Technoblade.

Technoblade and Philza, from everything I’ve seen of them, seem to be very good friends – and they share a lot of history even outside SBI. So, it’s commendable that they would collaborate on a storyline together.

A consequence of that, however, is that Philza’s narrative purpose shifts completely with very little transition. His entire character changes from being the Mentor-figure of L’Manberg to being pretty much exclusively defined as Technoblade’s ally; his man on the inside. It is a very sharp turn from the end of Season 1. Their relationship is once again informed via intertext – this time the Antarctic Empire on SMPEarth serves as the hypotext – but there isn’t a huge effort made to smoothly integrate that aspect of Philza’s character into the larger narrative framing around him.

How much the narrative utilisation of Philza has shifted can be very easily observed through the Butcher Army event on December 16th, a story event that I like less and less the more I think about. Here Philza is used to show just how corrupt and violent Tubbo’s administration has becomes. He is no longer the respected mentor, he is now the stand-in for the oppressed populace, similar to Niki’s role in Season 1. On a narrative level, he is here to prove a point.

If you’ve seen my Technoblade video, you know how I feel about … just that entire storyline, so I will not reiterate too much on it. I just want to make clear that I’m not principally against this development – if they wanted to truly explore Tubbo going down a dark path and getting corrupted by power, so much so that he would even treat the person who effectively raised him like a prisoner, I would be extremely here for it, I cannot stress that enough.

The problem I have is that it’s just so sloppily done. It is not coherent with how these characters behaved and, more importantly, how they were narratively framed prior to the Butcher Army event. Fundy gets one token line about Phil being his Grandfather – a far cry from the very emotionally complex relationship they had established at the beginning of Season 2 – and Phil then callously disowns him.

The major problem simply is that we don’t see how Philza changes from Mentor-figure to embittered, oppressed citizen. And there was enough time to build to that. During the entirety of Tommy’s exile Tubbo was pretty much spinning his wheels and Quackity and Fundy were opening up plot cul-de-sacs that didn’t end up going anywhere. This is time they could have spent on developing their relationship to Philza and the dark path they were going down – but again, Season 2 video.

There is not much to say on Philza’s narrative purpose and framing beyond the Butcher Army event. He remains pretty much exclusively Techno’s consigliere with his role as Mentor to L’Manburg a distant memory. He has some cute character moments with Ranboo, because content creator Philza is just big dad-energy whether he wants to or not, and whenever he and Ghostbur share a scene suddenly the narrative remembers that there are people other than Technoblade that should exist in Philza’s inner world. But aside from that, Philza’s storyline in Season 2 remains … pretty definitive is the nicest way I can put it.

Most importantly his relationship with Tommy continues to be completely unexplored – whether by chance or choice – and that combined with ever vaguer paratext leaves “Dadza” in a very peculiar situation.

 Conclusion: Is Dadza a Good Dadza?

So, the question to end all questions. The big, obnoxious text, that I will probably have put in the thumbnail – I haven’t made it yet, but I know myself. The honest answer is: I couldn’t tell you.

I have, in the past, been expounding the virtues of narrative analysis. That is because I feel that Narrative Analysis and Textual Analysis, like in this video, can provide certain tools that Character Analysis lacks. Often times I see people trying to get at a writing problem or query and getting frustrated because they’re not using the toolset, they need to figure out what they want to figure out.

But I’d be a hypocrite if I pretended like everything could be solved through the modes of analysis I prefer. And I think the Dadza-issue is exactly such a case.

I set out to explore why the Philza-Tommy-“Dadza”-relationship has become so controversial. It’s a combination of expectations build up through intertextual readings, that were partly canonized – something that is very common for the Dream SMP – conflicting pieces of paratext, which only serve to muddle the issue further and a text that is not only completely uninterested in actually exploring Tommy’s and Philza’s relationship – as it stands right now they might as well be strangers, narratively speaking – but also completely changes Philza’s narrative purpose as it relates to characters like Fundy or Tubbo about half-way through with little to no transition.

That is why I say, that Philza’s character is a victim of narrative circumstance. Because unwittingly, through all of these factors and decisions, there is not coherent reading of Philza that frames his parental skills in a particularly kind light.

The question of how we can judge Phil as a paternal figure ultimately falls within the purview of the character analysis – and that’s a very multifaceted issue, highly dependent on which POV you focus on and how you interpret the other characters in that POV’s periphery.

To put my cards on the table, I think that Philza is a very flawed father/father-figure – and I find that absolutely okay. Flaws are the spice of character building. He is not Cinderella’s Evil Stepmother – but he’s also definitely not Mufasa. If we were to read Philza as a paternal figure, then he would have made a lot of mistakes and decisions to the detriment of his “children” – least of all everything that happened on Doomsday.

But I also have sympathies for Philza fans who are tired of the Dad-Debate and would like to have his character judged independent from his relationship to Ghostbur, Fundy, Tubbo and Tommy.

Ultimately, to bring it all to a point, I’d like to end with saying, that I think that Philza, out of all the characters on the SMP, has the potential to be on of the most intriguing, multifaceted ones. There are all of these different patches of story, character moments and narrative and transtextual implications, that, if brought together, could create a beautiful tapestry of the character Philza.

You have his relationship with Techno, which holds the potential for so much emotional conflict and vulnerabilities, you have his time as mentor of L’Manburg, which is just criminally underused; the complex relationship between him and Ghostbur/Wilbur; and – for me, personally – most intriguingly this weird, almost uncomfortably distant non-relationship with Tommy. That last one is intriguing to me, because it contrasts just so much with our intertextual understanding of the characters and streaming personas – and it just holds the potential for so much conflict, so much drama, so much angst. Which I live for!

And, yes, I do believe that most of this is narrative happenstance, that this was largely not intended by Philza or really any of the writers. It’s just what happens when hybrid-roleplay-improv a long-running, livestreamed storyline in Minecraft.

But I want them to realize the potential they have on their hands, because it could – with barely any adjustments – turn Philza from a victim of narrative circumstance to a champion of it!

 Outro

Thank you so much for watching this video. Usually, I don’t record outros this standard, but after this beast of a video I felt it necessary. I hope that whether you’re a Philza fan or a Philza critical or just completely uninvolved in the whole thing, there is at least a little entertainment you could get from this.

I want to take this opportunity to say that my next few videos will probably not be Dream SMP related – a sentence which undoubtedly lost me a bunch of subs – simply because I don’t want to burn out on it. I genuinely enjoy watching the SMP and being exhausted by it would be something I wouldn’t want to force on myself.

But who knows what will happen? The Karl Jacobs video was something I did spur of the moment because the idea just came to me – so I can’t guarantee that the next video won’t be a three-minute joke about Purpled or whatever.

Anyway, my concrete plans for future Dream SMP videos are essays on Season 1 and Season 2 as well as one for Tales from the SMP.

Before that I have a longer video in the works, which I’ve already teased a bunch, so I hope it will finally be finished sometime. And I also may be working on something … eboys-related? Maybe. I’m not making any promises!