#my opinion is probably wrong

[ferretteeth]

Pigeon attempts to court falcon

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest Stand Battle - GRAND FINAL!

Stand abilities under the cut:

Star Platinum: Star Platinum is a close-range Stand with exceptional strength and speed, as well as gaining the ability to stop time during the fight against DIO.

Moody Blues: It possesses the ability to imitate the form of individuals and reenact past events with precision.

Sticky Fingers: It possesses a very versatile ability in the form of its zippers. The zippers have various applications, such as using them to travel through walls or floors, detaching and attaching limbs, and storing objects inside something. Bucciarati is also free to attach several things together with his zippers.

[legendoftherisingtide]

[intro]

Bakugou is a prideful, arrogant person. He holds himself to the highest standard; he is the best and everyone else is simply below him. Everything he has ever done was in pursuit of being number one, shining above the rest. He has to have a perfect victory, he has to be a perfect student, he has to win to save.

He pushes and pushes and won’t let anyone see his weaknesses or his insecurities. He can never lose, he can never fail, he can never show that he regrets or hesitates or that he hasn’t thought everything through. He must never be vulnerable in every sense of the word.

Then why is he standing in the rain.

To apologize shouldn’t be a sacrifice, but it is for Bakugou. To pour his feelings, to admit his wrong, to let down all of the walls he has built and be vulnerable. And in front of his whole class.

He is willing to sacrifice his pride, to fully sacrifice any superiority he could have, to bare his soul and even risk rejection. Because he knows Midoriya is more important. Because he wants him to come home, he wants him to know his true feelings, because he wants things to change. 

Because Midoriya has changed him. Midoriya has opened his eyes; by showing him he’s allowed to be open, that his feelings should be expressed, that he has so much to learn, and so much of that was learned through Midoriya just existing.

He isn’t sacrificing his safety frivolously because he’s expected to as a hero; he is doing it because he has grown. He is doing it because he has finally admitted to himself that he wants Midoriya to be with him and safe.

So I will sacrifice this for you. Not because it will change anything, as much as I want that I know that I can’t just fix all the wrong with just this. And I am willing to do as much as it takes to earn your forgiveness. But I don’t need that from you, not now and not ever if you don’t want that, I just need you to rest. I did so much wrong. And I am sorry for everything. You don’t have to do this alone. Lean on us. You are so strong and being supported doesn’t discount that. You’ve taught me that. 

I hate the rain. But I will brave it for you. 

He would do everything in his power, admit so many things, just to get Midoriya to take care of himself. We see him being the most vulnerable he has ever been in front of people that aren’t Midoriya. He does so much completely out of character, all in pursuit of being there for Midoriya. 

For Izuku.

He finally gets over himself and finally tells Midoriya the feelings he has felt for so long.

He lets go of this idea he is inherently better and finally acknowledges that his hatred for Midoriya has always been about his own shortcomings and insecurities. But he still wants to be better, they are still rivals. He isn’t going to sacrifice that part of him because that is just who he is; he is still going to push to number one.

But now it’s different.

There is verbal and vocal acceptance and respect. Before it was unspoken; their relationship had changed ever since Ground Beta. They were proper rivals, with mutual respect and care, they were actively making each other better.

But Bakugo finally verbalizes it and tells Midoriya, not only is he sorry, but he wants to actually have a proper friendship; he wants to continue to become better and earn his forgiveness. He wants them to push each other to be better, he wants to continue to fight for the top spot, he still wants to be the best.

But when did it become something else? 

When was the turning point when it started to shift from wanting to surpass Midoriya and be the best, to wanting to keep up with Midoriya and stay by his side?

Bakugou has already sacrificed himself for Midoriya before. His body moved on its own; with no hesitation, he would save Midoriya. He has already risked his life for him. But there is a layer to it that I don’t think people talk about. 

He tells Midoriya he shouldn’t try to win this on his own. 

He disguises his concern with an insistence that he’s in it to fight for himself when he initially joins the battle. But it is to fight by Midoriya’s side and support him.

But taking the hit for Midoriya, jumping in the way isn’t just support. This is sacrifice. This is giving yourself to ensure the safety of someone. And it was second nature. 

There are two reasons and both are a sacrifice of something in the moment.

It is knowing someone is so valuable, so great, in all senses of the word, that they must be protected. Bakugou is sacrificing his body and admitting that Midoriya needs to stay alive, for personal reasons and/or for the world. He needs Midoriya to be okay, Midoriya can’t fight alone and Bakugou will do anything to make sure he will be okay. 

But the sacrifice of ideology. 

With every development, he has relinquished parts of himself. When he sacrifices himself he is not only sacrificing his body but is admitting that he can’t do this on his own; he needs Midoriya too. This isn’t him wanting to be better than Midoriya, it’s him wanting to do it together.

Midoriya changed him.

He doesn’t die for Midoriya. He wakes up and just as his last thought was Midoriya, so was his first as he woke up. He runs to his side. People are dragging him back, trying to have him rest, knowing before he even said anything that he would lose his mind over Midoriya’s situation. 

Everyone sees how Bakugou feels about Midoriya.

He sacrifices himself because Midoriya can not die on him. Midoriya has to stay alive. Midoriya has to keep fighting. 

There can not be a world that doesn’t have him in it.

This is the culmination of what has been developing ever since the final exam where Bakugou finally works with Midoriya; the day that win to save, save to win was noticed. Then furthered after Ground Beta where they finally talked to each other and something changed within them both.

But the final sacrifice is the culmination of Bakugou’s character.

He knows what this decision will mean. Everyone screams for him not to. He knows that he is going to die. He knows he will not win this fight.

This isn’t dying for the cause. This isn’t just a hero complex. This is because he can help Midoriya and he will. This is for Izuku.

I will sacrifice myself for you. To give you more time, to give you even the slightest chance of winning. I will sacrifice myself for you because you are who can win. I am going to die. I am going to die and in my final thoughts, I will ask if I will still be able to be by your side.

It is no longer can I beat you. It is no longer can I surpass you. It is can I still catch up to you. It is can I still even be equal to you. He has already sacrificed the idea that he could beat Midoriya, that isn’t what he wants anymore. What he wants is to stay here with him.

I will sacrifice everything I am. I have wanted to be the best. All my life I have wanted to surpass you and everyone around me. But you. I will let that go for you. I let it go in my mind for so long now and I have never wanted to admit it. Is it even possible? Is it even possible for me to catch up to you? Is it even possible for me to stay by your side. I can’t be that anymore. I am sacrificing even that now. I will never be number one now. I will never become the person I always dreamed to be. I will never surpass you. I am forever sacrificing that now. I will die here.  

But can I still be with you?

The sacrifice of his life is him fully relinquishing everything he is, admitting that he can’t keep up, losing all of the progress he has made, letting go of everything that made up his character.

And the last thing on his mind is if he can still be able to be by Midoriya’s side.

He won’t let him go again. 

[pumpkin-mines]

some of you need this

[tennessoui]

it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏

[kitttttchaos]

Why do people hate episode 4 so much? From a filmmaking perspective, it was glorious. The CGI on the chimera was very good, there were tons of symbolic shots, and don’t even get me started on the characters. We had a whole full circle moment with Percy learning to relax a little, Annabeth recognizing that not everybody is manipulating her to get what they want, and even Grover longing to find Pan and for peace in the animal kingdom. People are saying they’re trying to squeeze things into episodes and don’t care that much, but this show has up to $15 million per episode. 30 whole minutes for a single chapter is wild, and they decided to fill it with beautiful character moments instead of useless explosions. Just because it was short doesn’t mean it was bad.

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

[shoutascoffeepot]

im not hating im just saying if you didn’t like aizawa in his natural state of scruffiness and hair down and only liked him when he shaved and put his hair up neatly, yall dont deserve it.

[powerfulscribbles]

Hot take: Even though I love that he beat the Miquellallegations, pre-dlc Mohg was so much better and had a lot to go for in terms of power, potential and how conniving and dedicated he was to achieve his goal. I miss him.

Also the premises for a Lord of Blood ending were right there. It would've been an interesting alternative option where you as a player, not only as a Tarnished, are giving up both your role as main character and your quest to become Elden Lord, thus letting someone else seize that opportunity.

I understand Miquella's plan for godhood and the creation of a gentler world (which is still ultimately destined to fail if we intervene and avoid having our heart stolen by him), but it removed so much agency from Mohg in particular, in my opinion.

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[quatregats]

Something I've been thinking about is how Patrick O'Brian manages so skillfully to write characters whose actions contradict their beliefs, which I think is honestly a big part of why his characters feel so real. Mostly with Stephen and Jack—e.g., and perhaps most notably, Stephen has notably leftist sympathies (honestly I have no idea how to characterize his politics in period terms) who nonetheless becomes very comfortable with his rise to the landed gentry, while Jack is a card-carrying Tory who much of the time sympathizes far more with working class sailors and farmers than with the upper classes—but I'm sure he does it to a lesser degree with some of his minor characters (James Dillon, while perhaps not precisely minor, comes to mind), and I love that he's able to do that, especially the way in which he embeds it in the narrative. We see how they're all unreliable narrators of themselves; we understand how they want to be seen and how that does and doesn't coincide with the reality, but most importantly, this isn't presented as something reprehensible, just as a part of their own humanity. They are not their expectations for themselves, but they don't need to be those expectations to be beloved.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Nine

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 29

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] Part Twenty-Nine [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

It’s finally arrived: the morning of your wedding.

Only three hours from now. You’ve rehearsed and made all the decisions and socialized with what feels like everyone in the country and several outside of it. You’ll finish getting dressed over the next hour or so, finalize any last minute arrangements and handle any day-of problems with Grandmother or the Steward, and then the wedding ceremony will occur. After that, there will be the final signing of papers for the legal offices. The wedding luncheon will take up several hours, but you’ll be the first expected to leave for once. While your guests continue to socialize, you, Dale, and a small number of servants ride off. 

You’re headed for an old hunting lodge a couple hours away. It’s a traditional destination for all Northridge newly married couples, with a separate house for the servants therefore privacy for the new couple. Some only spent a single night there, heading on to more distant destinations, but you and Dale shall spend at least a week there. After you’ll continue on to Riverton, the closest city in Northridge to the hunting lodge, to start your tour of the fief. 

A strangely nervous excitement fills you with both anticipation and trepidation. There has been so much build-up to today that it feels surreal to have finally arrived. There will be the days after today where you and Dale will finally have unbridled privacy to talk openly. You are worried about what he might reveal, but if these last few weeks have taught you anything, it’s that not knowing is far, far worse. You cannot help but look forward to the absence of other people you must socialize and make conversation with. There will be no more focus and attention on you which is something you need desperately. 

Your family will no longer be constantly around. They’ve been well enough behaved, to be sure, and Callalily has not brought up any further concerns. Your other siblings give no hint that she might have spoken with them on such matters, which you are grateful for. You’re also grateful that Dale has stuck closer to you these past few nights than he had previously. Some of his friends even were carefully integrated into the Northridge and Portsmith conversations with ease, although you did notice a certain few who remained on the other side of the room. Wilhelm was among them. He did apologize to you directly the next day, once he’d gotten over his hangover. He’d been profoundly embarrassed, admitting he’d no true memory of the night. 

Dale was still a bit odd, often lost in thought. He maintained a cheerful enough disposition that you don’t think anyone else noticed. His control seemed to have been reasserted as you’ve noticed no suggestions to his true nature in the slightest, which allowed you to relax as well. You know you will both be far less stressed once this fuss is all behind you. 

Brisk hands with a plush towel drying your hair pull you out of your thoughts. Freshly clean from a bath, your maid is getting ready to style your hair. Behind you in your dressing room other maids are pressing your clothing and packing your bags for the trip ahead. You’re enjoying the quiet atmosphere as they chat. It helps that everything’s already been decided so no one has to speak with you. You’ve been purposely avoiding thinking about the wedding ceremony itself—even more than all the galas, everyone’s attention will be on you and Dale. It's rather terrifying. You need every second you have to yourself to try to reach some sort of calm. 

So far, you're dressed in your lovely wedding chemise, a gift from Marigold, and you distract yourself to admire it in the mirror. The lacework is finer and more intricate than any you’d seen on such a garment with a lovely ribbon of maroon woven through the hem. Marigold insisted that these decorations were a trend among certain nobility, shirts and shifts alike, for special occasions and the like. You had been touched when it arrived near a month ago. You feel retroactively guilty for the mild suspicion you’d pessimistically attributed to her intentions. You’d been both flattered and anxious about being condensed to, as if you were too young or naive to have known of the fad yourself, which of course you had not.

Now you believe she had merely wanted to give you a present and share her more intimate knowledge of fashion trends, with no slight intended. It is her gift to you for the wedding and you greatly appreciate it. Douglas has given you a fine horse and Asher a handwritten booklet, with tips and advice from what he remembers learning as he began to run your home fief. Not to play favorites, but you’ve already begun reading Asher’s, even if the mare is lovely.

No sooner had your mind turned to Callalily’s gift, than there was a knock on the door. Miss Adir opens it to admit Callalily and her maid, who she’s lending to you for styling your hair for the wedding. She has also given you a wonderful book on herbs and medicine, which you didn’t have the heart to tell her was one you’d read before. You remind yourself that it is a more recent edition than the one you’d used in school and that it is nice to have your own copy.

Callalily elects to stay in the room, her outfit and hair already fully taken care of for the day, and lounges on one of your dressing room chairs. “Where is your dress?”

“With the laundress, my lady,” Miss Adir tells her at your questioning look. “They are steaming it. Your underskirts as well. Your stays are ready, if you’d like me to lace them up before we start on the rest of your hair.”

You roll your shoulders as you eye the stays on the rack nearby. They’re freshly cleaned because, unlike your underskirts, you’ve not worn them recently. Your eyes dart to your bed where the stays you’ve been wearing lay. They’ve been cleaned this week, but not yesterday and they’re different enough due to the busk knife sheath that the dress might sit oddly over them given the way they’ve been made.

Reading your look, Miss Adir offers, “We can still switch to the other stays my lady.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. You’ve practically worn no other stays without the sheath knife since the attack, but you know it's foolish. It’s not as though you’ve been alone since then where you would need to rely on it. Still, it’s made you feel safer to have it there. But it’s not as though someone would try to strike you during the ceremony or wedding luncheon and you’ll be with Dale after. “The dress was made with that one in mind,” you state as confidently as you can, “No matter my reluctance.”

“Why are you tempted by this other pair of stays?” Callalily asks, glancing over the assorted freshly laundered undergarments. “Surely they cannot be so different.”

“Oh, they are the ones you gifted to me,” you say, not sure how exactly to broach the subject without worrying her. She’s the one who gave them to you for a purpose. As a diplomat, she’s the sibling most involved in politics—of multiple countries no less. She’s had to deal with her own fair share of such attacks, but you don’t think she ever truly expected you to need to rely on her gift for its intended purpose. “I’d meant to thank you again for them.”

“You did?” Callalily raises an eyebrow at that.

“Yes,” you admit, eyes darting to the maid with her back to you as she packs clothes into your trunks and avoiding Miss Adir’s gaze. You select your words carefully, “I had cause to make use of their unique construction and am very grateful for the gift.”

You watch in the mirror as Callalily’s maid braids your damp hair. Her eyes widen as she pares your allusion. “You… did,” she says slowly, sitting straighter in her chair as she fully absorbs what you're saying. “When? Are you alright?”

“I am fine,” you reply just as carefully. Callalily’s eyes are insistent as she stares at you and you reluctantly elaborate, “There was an incident two weeks or so ago.” That at least is easy enough to tell her. Your mother’s penchant for specific coded language comes in handy. “Incident” means an attack on the family without serious injury or death, for you. It also indicates a private attack otherwise it would have been a ‘commotion’. Neither you, Dale, nor Grandmother were injured enough for a “disturbance” and since Dale took care of the assassins it's not “ongoing”. “The matter has been settled personally by Lord Dale, for now.”

“Two weeks—” Callalily starts to press before she cuts herself off. Her eyes are critical on your form in the mirror. You can see her take note that you have no visible injuries. You’ve no injuries hidden either—all bruising has since resolved. “I see.” You’ve never seen her at such a loss until the other day and to have it happen twice is nothing short of a miracle. She resettles herself in the chair and says, “Well, I’m very glad you had the stays then.” The sincerity in her voice makes you smile. “I can provide you the name of the maker, in case you should like to order more.”

Your smile widens at her offer. You’d asked one of the seamstresses to look into just such a thing, but it would be far easier with her help. “Thank you.”

She can’t seem to stop herself from questioning further, saying, “Did you have occasion to do more than…?” Something in your expression must answer her incomplete question for her. She stands up from the chair and walks over to the stays, pulling out the entire busk sheath.“I see. Then I am grateful indeed that you had this. I can provide a cord and show you how else to wear it, if you’d prefer.”

“Yes, please,” you reply, already feeling more settled at her suggestion. Callalily murmurs to a maid instructions for what to get from her rooms. 

Only a few minutes later, the maid returns with the necessary supplies and Marigold in tow. “Apologies for my delay,” Marigold says as she quickly takes Callalily’s place on her chair. “It was more difficult than I expected make my way here without notice or accompaniment.”

Before you can question what she means by that, you’re distracted by Callalily’s maid needing to pin up your braids and set your curls. You do catch a look Callalily and Marigold share and wonder what it could mean as Miss Adir laces up your stays. When two of the maids, including Miss Adir, leave for the laundry room, you are unsurprised when Callalily sends her maid on an errand for some jewelry she’s decided to lend to you.

The final maid has finished with the fireplace and correctly reads the room, taking her leave. You eye your sisters in the mirror and ask, “What is it you wish to discuss?” Marigold tries to adopt an innocent expression, but Callalily doesn’t. She smirks as she inspects the dresses that haven’t been packed yet.

“Mother and Father wanted to be the one to speak with you,” Marigold says, as if she is reassuring you of something. Your eyebrows raise at that and she continues, “but we decided to do so instead.” 

You lean back against your vanity in your chemise and stays. You don’t think there is bad news they are wishing to impart or truly news at all. However, you’re not sure what else they would need to tell you in private and in this manner. “What did they wish to speak about?”

Marigold looks extremely amused as Callalily answers, “The wedding night.”

“Oh.” You frown, wondering why they’d want to discuss tonight’s accommodations. As family of the bride, you expect them to stay on the Northridge estate for another week even as other guests might begin to leave as early as tomorrow, depending on how long the gala lasts today. Then something in Marigold’s smirk sparks a connection in your mind. “Oh!” You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you try very hard not to seem too awkward or naive. 

They mean your wedding night. Tonight. With Dale. Then you remember the rest of what they said and feel an embarrassed panic fill your veins at the thought of having to discuss anything along those lines with your parents. “By the light, please no.” You’ve no true desire to discuss this with your sisters, although part of you is curious about their general experience as both are married, but your parents? No.

“I did not escape their talk and neither did Asher,” Callalily explains, a teasing twinkle in her eye, “but we were able to save Marigold.”

“And so we shall save you,” Marigold proclaims magnanimously. 

Your mind races, not having expected any of them to want to discuss physical affection with you, even in preparation of tonight. You know that is the purpose of a wedding trip, everyone does, but it feels far too personal somehow to discuss anything detailed with them. You hadn’t felt nearly this uncomfortable when you’d have these facts explained to you in the first place. “We already had lessons! In school!” you protest when it becomes clear that by “save” they mean to still speak with you themselves. “Did you not?”

“We did,” Callalily confirms. Her teasing demeanor softens in the face of your discomfort and she explains further, “But Mother in particular still wanted to provide, ehm, additional context and opportunity to ask questions.”

“It’s genuinely rather sweet—in theory,” Marigold says. She’s not wrong exactly, on some level you appreciate the offer, but a larger part of you has never divulged personal information of this nature to anyone in your family or the reverse and you are perfectly content for it to stay that way.

“Yes well,” Callaliy’s voice is exceedingly dry. “I did not need to know anything about their wedding night or continued marital bliss.”

“Please stop,” you say weakly.

“We meant to speak with you far sooner,” Marigold clarifies, “but since we arrived late and with how busy everything was, we were not able to until now.”

“We apologize,” Callalily says, but she continues talking, “but truly, do you have any questions?”

“Or concerns?” Marigold leans in, eyes intent. “Have you—”

“No, of course not,” you reply before you can help yourself. Having a child outside of marriage for a noble was considered a societal taboo of the highest level. It’s seen as diluting your bloodline, evidence of careless stupidity, and disrespectful to nearly everyone involved. Those who did so and were found out were often ostracized from noble society, along with their family. The risk of such an outcome was impressed upon you and the other students–not to mention by your parents. As you knew you’d have a challenging time earning a betrothal as it was, you’d never considered doing so. Not to mention you’ve had enough health concerns and medicine in your body that you’d not wanted to take any chances with certain contraception methods. 

But your sisters wouldn’t have had all those concerns. You also knew that it was somewhat common to preempt your wedding vows with your fiance in the weeks before the wedding. Everyone knew that first-borns tended to be born early, which means everyone knew that some did wait for the wedding night, if they felt their marriage was guaranteed strongly enough for that risk. With eyes wide you ask, “Had you?”

“I did not and neither did Asher,” Callalily sniffs in such a pointed manner that you turn to Marigold somewhat incredulously.

“I did,” Marigold confesses boldly. You knew she was always more willing to go against convention, but you’re still surprised. “It is not such a travesty or such a danger and I’m glad for the experience. It seemed ill-advised to me to wait until the wedding night.” You want to ask if she slept with her future husband or someone else. You want to ask how she kept the risk of a child out of wedlock low. Perhaps you will ask later as she does not have any children to this day, but you can’t make yourself ask right now. 

You’d purposely not been thinking in too much detail about tonight, let alone engaging in such activity earlier. First, that had been due to who Dale was and then you’d been preoccupied with everything else this Dale is. Now they’re making it hard not to worry. What experience does this Dale have? What does he expect from you? Is what Marigold did far more common than you thought?

Marigold’s eyes narrow as she asks, “Have you had any experience with lust at all?”

You resist the urge to cross your arms defensively in front of yourself before saying, “Yes, some. Nothing—” you swallow as you try not to sound too defensive or accusatory after what Marigold confessed, “nothing as you seem to have experienced, but more than a kiss, if that is what you are asking.”

“Truly?” Marigold seems genuinely taken aback. You don’t know whether to feel offended she thought you too naive or unwanted to have done so or pleased you’ve managed to surprise her. “When? With who?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, the heat rushing to your face at the memories. You know peasants and other classmates and clearly Marigold herself had more experience than you managed to have. Both of Callalily and Marigold were married so they had far more by now too. You’re sure they’ll view your paltry experience as quite innocent.

“No one took advantage of you, did they?” Callalily’s expression is intent, her hand subconsciously drifting towards her sword as she reads the discomfort in your body language.

“No, of course not,” you reply quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “Just some games at school, in the dormitory.” Dormitories at your school were for four girls in a room, but some nights, more would sneak out after stealing something from the kitchens and all gather together. You’d never been invited to one in another room, but you’d joined in the one or two times everyone had gathered in your own rooms. Nadine’s brother would sometimes send her packages with liquor harder than the watered down wine you’d have with dinner that she would share with the others. Many of the games were silly but some turned to romance and kissing in addition to other daring challenges.

“Oh,” Callalily blinked in surprise before smiling, “Yes, we used to participate in such games. Many of my classmates enjoyed professing it as ‘practice’ without too much unnecessary risk.”

“That is not all, is it?” Marigold says shrewdly, her eyes intent on you.

You jut out your chin stubbornly because she’s correct. “No, I… There was one Spring Equinox festival, soon after graduation.” At their looks of mild confusion, no doubt remembering the family dinners and boring sacred ceremonies, you reluctantly expand further. “One I went to with my maid.” They frown in confusion. “As her cousin.” Their eyebrows raise at that reveal, remembering how different those festivals were from the more staid affairs your parents would host. “In the Garden district.” 

Your home city, not the country estate, is where you’d attended this particular festival. That is why you had been able to pretend to be Martina’s cousin—everyone would have recognized you back on the estate, or at least know you weren’t Martina’s cousin, but not in the city. She’d help you dress and coached you on how to talk and act. She had said she wanted you to experience more life than you had received. Your quiet nature had easily fed into the idea of you being her country cousin with no experience in the large city. It had been one of, if not the best nights of your life. You’ve never talked to anyone about it besides Martina.

“You did what?!” Callalily exclaims.

Marigold grins. “I did not think you had it within you to do such a thing. Wonderful! That sounds like a marvelous time.”

“With how much everyone drinks?” Callalily says, still looking shocked. “Especially in the Garden district. Their liquors are dangerous!”

She isn’t wrong. They made delicious drinks without burn or foul taste which could easily lead to someone overindulging. Your contribution of coin had been carefully managed to acquire enough equally delicious street food. Besides, Martina is a good friend and you’ll not let them think she was careless with your well being. “M-She looked out for me. There was no lasting harm from that night. Nothing dangerous happened.” You can’t help but say, “I just wanted to enjoy myself as a real person for once.”

“Oh, honey,” Marigold says.

“I know that you—” Callalily tries to say, obviously not recalling enough from your previous conversation.

“Do you? You do not know,” you say sharply, the words coming easier this time. “And you all insist I must have slept through the first decade and a half of my life, but I did not. I was merely trapped in those rooms, listening to faint music from below, forbidden by Mother and my own body from—” You cut yourself off in a frustrated huff. But once again, at least they’re listening. You try to keep your voice steady so as not to feel like a child complaining about not receiving enough sweets. “It was like I was a doll, put up on a shelf, who could do nothing without another’s permission and manipulation. It was painful, the life all around me that I could not participate in.” You swallow, looking away from them and the pity you knew must be in your eyes. “So if, when I was an adult who could truly live,” you told the floor, “I wanted to drink and pretend to be someone else for the night and, and kiss someone in a barn,” you look back up at them, “then so be it!”

Silence fills the room as you breathe heavily, not having meant to say so much in such a short period of time. Then Marigold throws her arms around you in a fierce hug and Callalily soon joins hers. “My apologies,” Callalily murmurs, “I do not mean to presume so much. I had thought myself better than that.”

“I’d have gone mad, stuck in such a manner,” Marigold confesses. You don’t think saying that it felt like you had for a time would be appreciated but you’re grateful for the acknowledgment. “It was easier to believe you’d slept through it all than think of you in pain the whole time. I’m so happy that you’re here now and that you’ve done all you can to enjoy yourself.”

“Yes, precisely,” Callalily agrees before backing off to give you some space.

Marigold gives you an extra squeeze before she pulls back enough to tease, “How was the barn lad?”

You laugh even as you discretely dab at your eyes and take a sip from the water Callalily’s brought for you. “Sweet, he was a carpenter’s apprentice.” He’d been strong and confident—settled in a way that had greatly attracted you. You’d needed some air after how hot and tightly packed the tavern had gotten and he’d asked to come with you. The memory is still tinted with a pleasant haze. “We were interrupted by the maid who brought me before anything aside from his shirt—” You cut yourself off, rather embarrassed and wanting to keep some of that night to yourself.

Marigold giggles.

Callalily nods and finally stops looking as though she plans to call the guards to find Martina and take her to task. “It’s probably for the best,” she ends up saying. “Barns are not near as romantic as one might hope when it comes to anything that requires the actual removal of clothing.”

“Callalily!”

“My husband misses me when we travel apart,” she says airly. “We cannot wait at times.”

Marigold scrunches up her face. “I’m not sure I required that information.” 

“I could instead tell you of Mother’s—” Callalily begins.

“No!” you and Marigold interrupt her at the same time.

Callalily rolls her eyes but seems intent upon bringing the conversation back to where it originally started. “If you do not wish to have further discussion, or you do not have any questions, that is fine. I would like to impress upon you that communication is the heart of a marriage, in all aspects including matters of physical affection.”

“Encourage what you enjoy, put a halt to anything you dislike,” Marigold adds, more serious than she’s been on the subject so far. “As well as listen to him for the same.”

“It should be an enjoyable night,” Callalily says definitively, “and if either of you are not enjoying yourselves, talk to each other. There is always the next night.”

“Do you believe he would pressure you?” Marigold asks with a frown. “Some are very insistent regarding the manner in which a wedding night should progress.”

You shake your head before she’s even finished asking. “No, I don’t. Dale listens to me.” Original Dale would have had expectations and perhaps this Dale does too, but you’ve never received that impression from him. If anything, you’re beginning to wonder if he’ll be interested in the usual trappings of a human wedding night. His recent attitude, his confusing demeanor. It must all just be pressure from the investigation and the wedding and having to perform for so many people. Once the two of you are finally alone, everything will all be so much easier. It has to be.

In truth, it's how his inhuman nature will impact tonight and your future together that you have the most questions and concerns around. What if demons marry differently? What if they express physical affection in a manner you cannot reciprocate? Would that be better than if he’s no interest in you physically at all? The original Dale had proclaimed you passable, did this one agree? It’s not as though you can express all of those twisting thoughts to your sisters.

“As he should.” Callalily nods decisively and questions you no further on your assessment of Dale, which you’re grateful for. 

“You,” Marigold stares at you, head tilted to the side, as if a new thought had just occurred to her. “You are happy to be marrying, aren’t you?”

Despite all your worries, you smile shyly back at her. “Yes, I am.”

She grins back. “Then that is what truly matters.” Marigold glances at the clock and frowns. “As it is, we had best be on our way to rescue him from Mother.” At your frown, she explains, “He’d agreed to stay with her in the garden and entertain.” You take that to mean ‘allow Mother to play matchmaker for him’. You’re surprisingly touched by the sacrifice. “However, we are already approaching the hour and he shall wish for his deliverance from her shortly.”

“Luckily Asher is occupying Father,” Callalily says. “And is unlikely to want for rescue. If anything we shall have to pry them away from a riveting board game of some kind to attend the wedding in the first place.”

“We can let Mother deal with them,” Marigold waves off Callalily’s concern.

“Thank you,” you cut in to say. “I truly do appreciate it.”

“You are most welcome,” Marigold replies.

“If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to contact us, any of us, yes?” Callalily adds.

“Yes,” you answer and you think you actually will, if you need to.

After they leave, you sit down, suddenly unaware of what to do with yourself. Your eyes catch on the various wedding accessories spread out on your vanity. You run your fingers over the garter’s lace detail as your mind drifts to tonight and how Dale might–

The door opens behind you and you hope your expression doesn’t give the direction your thoughts had been drifting away. “Did you forget something, sister?” Your eyes land on a maid instead of your sisters. “Oh, my apologies.”

“My lady.” She looks surprised to see you, which is odd considering these are your rooms. Her eyes dart around as if looking for someone else, but there’s only you. If anything, you’d say she has the look of a woman who just learned some piece of tantalizing gossip and instead of finding a room full of her fellow servants, has found a superior instead. When you were still young and bedridden, it was one of the few times you were grateful you never counted fully as one such superior. It was always so interesting to listen to the stories they shared. Now, in a bittersweet way, it seems you’ve finally moved to the latter group. “I…”

Still, as she begins to look more worried than disappointed, when she hasn’t made an excuse about being confused about which room she’s in and left, you frown. “What is it?” you ask.

“Lord Dale has…” she trails off when the other maids return from the laundry with your clean clothes for packing, your corded underskirts pressed and bleached to pure whiteness. 

The maid who’d burst in seems to be attempting to act casual, but even the other maids notice something is amiss as their eyes keep darting to her with interest even as they return to their places. Then it appears she is going to slip out of the room. You can’t have that. “Miss? You were sharing news?” you remind her, hoping how tightly strung her words have left isn’t obvious.

“There might be a mild issue,” she says hastily, taking another step towards the door. “I’m sure it shall be dealt with quickly. If it were more serious, you would have been informed by a person far more appropriate than me. There is no point in worrying you.”

You swallow, each word increasing the panic shooting through you. “Be that as it may, you are here now. Tell me, what is your understanding of the situation?”

“I truly should not trouble you, my lady,” she tries to insist. “Lord Archibald is handling it.”

“What is wrong with Lord Dale?” you repeat, as clearly as you can because whether they know it or not, you are the best person to handle whatever might be wrong. Did someone try to give him willowbark again? Did someone involved in the assassination attempt attack? Is there some new danger you cannot even fathom?

“I overheard,” she says haltingly, “there was a lot of shouting, you see. They’re still arguing about it I believe, but… well…from what I heard, which was not terribly clear you must understand, it sounded as if…” You try your best to prompt her with your expression, the whole room gone silent waiting for her final words. “Lord Dale, he’s called off the wedding.”

[Part Thirty]

[lazzarella]

I don't know, I just like that we have Wandee who dedicates his life to looking after people but longs for someone to look after *him*. Yeah, he has a great friend who'll go to bat for him and a grandma who obviously cares but the fact that he held a torch for the same guy for eight years because he was presumably kind to him (he mentions Ter looking after him so well) and the way he says 'it's so nice to have someone ask if you're tired when you're tired' shows there's something deeper he wants and needs.

But where Ter's caring was possibly/probably because he wanted to keep Wandee close for his own benefit, Yoryak comes along and looks after Wandee when he really needs it because he wants to with no ulterior motive

And there's Yoryak who makes a living fighting people, and, while I think we don't know as much about him yet, he has people looking after him (notably Cher and Oyei, but I'd say also Taem), but it's got that older/younger sibling or almost parental dynamic, and doesn't really let Yoryak be...mature maybe? Or his full adult self in that way people with older siblings are often always a little bit still a child around them, if that makes any sense? 

But it's very obvious he has a caring nature and he's very quick to look after Wandee when he sees him in need of it. And it seems to please him, too, in a way that I don't think doing something purely out of obligation would

I mean, we're only three eps in, so I'm doing a lot of speculating, and I'm probably very wrong, but essentially I just really like this dynamic. The doctor being taken care of and the boxer doing the caring. 

But I'm also looking forward to seeing Dee tend to Yak's wounds which I think we saw in a preview or promo photo 👀

[sophsun1]

why oh why couldn't justin have had his torrid affair with the cute boy from the party that he cheated on brian with the first time instead of the pretentious prick that was ethan. he too wanted hearts and flowers and the whole romantic nine yards. I'm suffering through the cheating arc and i can feel the ick through my laptop screen. justin's head injury has a lot to answer for because there's no way he would ever be attracted to him otherwise.

[qiu-yan]

in MDZS the novel, the innkeeper in Yunping mentions that people are too scared to go petition Yunmeng Jiang for help because someone once walked in on Sect Leader Jiang whipping a guy in the main hall, supposedly because the guy was a demonic cultivator.