#no but really how does wearing my retainer again serve me…..

[livvyofthelake]

i’m such a girl who stopped wearing their retainer and is very unlikely to ever start again. like why would i put that thing back on. to feel excruciating pain and then have straighter teeth for a day before having to put it back on overnight. every night. forever. my teeth are not that bad sorry to my parents who apparently wasted their money on braces. well you got rid of the front tooth gap nobody liked so no one can take that away from you i guess. that’s it tho

[thefrogdalorian]

Weather The Storm Together

Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader

Summary: Despite repeated reassurances that Din loves you regardless of your struggles, you find it difficult to believe him. But when you are engulfed by a particularly strong wave of emotions and fail at your latest attempt to avoid letting him in, it only serves to strengthen your bond.

Word Count: 1.6k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Reader has a panic attack/meltdown, physical symptoms described, negative thoughts (but with Din's help, these emotions are resolved!). ✯ Author's Note: Well it really has been one thing after another for me this week, so I really needed to write this for myself. Very cathartic to write your fave character being understanding of struggles, but I do think it fits Din so well. He spends his entire life wearing a literal mask, he would be very compassionate and gentle. Hope you enjoy this one!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

As you lay face-down, sobbing your heart out on your bunk, your senses were too overwhelmed to hear him approaching. It was too late to turn away when your drained brain finally perceived the sound of his familiar heavy footsteps. 

Your stomach drops when the rhythmic sounds stop.

Now, there is nowhere to hide. 

You never intended for him to catch you in such a state. You remain convinced you look repulsive, with your swollen eyes burning from the endless tears shed. You fret about your messy hair that surely sticks out at all ends.

How will he retain his attraction to you after seeing you this dishevelled? How could anyone love someone capable of getting into such a distressed state?

The pain from such realisations will come later.

For now, you are too preoccupied with the way your chest aches from the exertion of the sobs which wracked your entire body until only moments ago. 

As you roll over, you wipe your eyes to get a better look at him, but the sniffling continues. Once your eyes are suitably clear of tears, your stomach churns with unease as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling pathetic and tiny in his presence. 

Somehow, he appears unfazed by your distressed appearance. As comfortable before his distressed cyare, as he would be encountering a band of mercenaries with deadly intentions. 

“I’m here,” Din’s familiar deep voice cuts through the anguish, and you start to feel the clouds lift.

He moves to sit on the edge of your bunk. Instinctively, you cover your face with your arms, nuzzling into the soft material of the clothes you wear to sleep in. 

Now that the shock is beginning to wear off, the equally unwelcome emotion of embarrassment begins to rear its ugly head, ready to add to your distress.

As he sits there gazing at you, his ordinarily warm brown eyes cooler and widened with concern, you think of recent events from Din’s perspective.

You blamed stomach ache for your abrupt retirement to your bunk. Despite his immediate concern for you, you successfully convinced him not to worry. Insisting it was a rogue ration pack, rather than an impending tidal wave of distress. 

When you hurried to your bunk, you left Din engaged in one of his favourite ways he soothes his soul and self-regulates. He would have remained there for a while longer, meticulously cleaning his armour, were he not abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable, gut-wrenching sounds of your sobs. 

You feel terrible that it struck at that moment, during such an unassuming afternoon. The constant storm that brews within you does not discriminate with timing. Sometimes, like today, there is a little warning, but just enough for you to get away and fall apart in peace. Things were perfectly fine, until they weren’t. A combination of the way the cloth Din was using squeaked against his armour and the seemingly endless monotony of hyperspace had caused you to tip over the edge. 

Din has reminded you time and time again that he is by your side every step of the way. But after an entire life spent keeping this side of you hidden, believing it is far easier said than done. It will take more than his supportive words to undo the years of damage inflicted by the repeated negative reinforcements that breaking down like this was due to poor behaviour rather than being a natural, unavoidable response to feeling overwhelmed.

Still, Din is your anchor, something to cling to during the ferocious storm. You reach for his hand, relieved that he has forgone his gloves, as you lace his thick, callused fingers with yours. To your relief, some of the familiar warmth returns to his eyes, matched by the heat radiating from his skin.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Din tentatively questions. 

You nod your head, taking shaky breaths to compose yourself so you can let him into your anguished state of mind rather than keeping him locked out. 

“It was just all too much. The noise of the cloth against the armour and being stuck in this ship for another day. I couldn’t take it. I hate that I have to go through this,” you murmur.

“I know, cyare,” Din squeezes your hand as he shakes his head, “I wish you didn’t have to suffer. But we’ll be landing soon. By the time you wake up tomorrow, we’ll be back on solid ground.”

You nod. You know that Din is reminding you of your impending return to Nevarro as a reason to stay optimistic, not berating you for being unable to last just one more day. He understands how frustrated you are that you could not see this journey through without being overwhelmed. Still, the shame does not dissipate entirely.

“I hate that you have to see me like this. I feel so embarrassed,” you confess shakily, deciding there is no point in hiding your true feelings from him.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing,” Din reassures you, “No one would choose to get themselves into such a state. I hate to see you like this.”

“You’re not mad at me?” you clarify, optimistic that he does not appear annoyed that you attempted to hide your acute distress from him. 

Din shakes his head, “I could never be mad at you. I wish you didn’t feel the need to hide this from me, but I understand why you do, and I hope that one day you will no longer feel a need to.”

You nod, relieved that Din does not berate and lecture you like others in your past have. His words fill you with optimism for the future, too. 

But the dread lingers. Now that you have discovered your fear that Din was angry with you was unfounded, your anguished, racing mind turns to the future. Feeling even marginally less distressed than you do at the moment seems unthinkable. 

“Will it ever get better?” you pathetically ask, picking at the threadbare blanket with your free hand as you avoid his gaze. 

“Of course, it will,” Din responds immediately, his tone so firm that you dare to look up at him, “Right now, it’s hard to imagine not feeling this awful. I promise you, this won’t last forever. I will help you through this.”

“But how long can you go through this, Din, before it’s too much?” you pose the question which makes your heart constrict. 

“You will never be too much,” Din shakes his hand, incredulous at the notion he would ever leave; unwavering in his devotion to you. 

Your bottom lip trembles at his words, a few stray tears leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. You are about to move to rub your cheeks with your sleeves when, in an achingly tender gesture, Din gently uses his thumb to wipe them away. 

The caring gesture and adoration apparent across his handsome features make you feel as though a Wookiee has taken a seat on your chest. It is difficult to breathe in the face of such unconditional love, especially at such a vulnerable moment. 

"There will be better days and I'll be standing by your side through all of them," Din whispers as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, before leaning his head against the very spot he just brushed his lips against.  

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep, steadying breath. You will yourself to believe Din's encouraging words, though you remain powerless to help the lingering doubt that gnaws somewhere deep inside. The two of you spend a few moments drawing strength from the closeness. You cannot resist how your lips curve upwards slightly at the way Din strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Do you believe me?” Din finally asks, his breath hot against your face. 

You pause for a few moments, considering your response. Then, you bring your free hand up to Din’s stubbly cheek and run your thumb along his surprisingly soft skin. You wordlessly answer his question by meeting his lips with yours softly, pressing your lips so faintly against his that it is a ghost of a gesture. 

Din pulls away, his expressive face overcome with emotion. You can see the hope, relief and devotion in his eyes. 

“With you by my side, Din Djarin, I believe that Mustafar could freeze over,” you smirk, then grow serious, “You make me feel like anything is possible.”

Din closes his eyes in gratitude, nodding as he swallows thickly. Relieved that he has, once again, pulled you back from the abyss with the patient, gentle way he loves you.

“Why don’t we get some rest?” Din offers, knowing the impact such distressing episodes have on your energy reserves. 

You eagerly nod. Din quickly moves to shed his outer layers of clothing. He is already back before your side before you can truly mourn the loss of contact, pulling you into his strong arms so tightly that you believe he will never let you go. 

As you lie back on the bunk together, you come to rest in your favourite position; with your cheek on Din’s strong, firm chest as his hands settle on your waist, rubbing soothing circles across your back. 

You are so exhausted that it appears sleep will come easily to you, as your eyelids are already growing leaden while your breathing becomes heavy. Safe in the arms you love, the distress of before seems almost a distant memory. 

Before falling into sleep’s warm embrace entirely, you hear Din whisper a final reminder:

“We’ll weather the storm together,” his deep voice vibrates underneath you. 

You nod in agreement, reassured that Din’s affection for you will never diminish, no matter the severity of your distress. 

The strong man whose arms you lie in will always be your anchor.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[konfizry]

So we all know the tales of series have lots of dlc swimsuits, which I find amazing considering they've been doing this for a long time

So I was wondering, do you think these swimsuits for these characters fit for them in terms of their personality and why

Alisha Diphda from Tales of Zestiria Beachside Girl

Velvet Crowe from Tales of Berseria Summer Swimwear

Shionne from Tales of Arise Regal Swimsuit

Nothing serious just thought I give you a fun question

Dear tim-ribbert-56,

Thank you for reaching out. Anime girls in swimsuit is one of my many interests and I am overjoyed to seize this opportunity to discuss them.

For brevity's sake I shall forgo any comments and lamentations regarding the swimsuits' status as DLC when such garments used to simply obtained from the games itself free of charge in earlier installments.

First, I fear there isn't much I could tell you about Alisha's swimsuit and how it compliments her character as my memories of her are but muddy visions i barely retained from a dropped jp ToZ playthrough and unfocused watch of the anime (which I cannot even remember whether I watched it to the end or not).

One thing I can say for sure however is that whoever designed her swimsuit must have really hated her. The mangled color (are those tiny irregular white spots sparkles or just a pattern? I'm not sure which answer terrifies me the most) make the fabric look cheap. The ruffly skirt is an affront to good taste and though I think I understand why the artist would include ruffles (it's always the same, really: to give whatever character they're slapped onto a hint of girlish innocence to balance out whatever other aspect of the design was deemed too prominent --edgyness, skimpiness, bulkiness, you name it--. they're fine on an actual child character but whoever is putting them on anyone over the age of 13 needs to take some time to think. i'm not saying don't ever do it but I am saying: think.) but if you look at Alisha's normal outfit, you'll be a seeing a lot of straight lines and geometrical shapes: we have rectangles, crosses, the checker-like pattern on the hem of her tunic, vertical lines going down said tunic, tunic which itself is a pretty straight cut, the collar is noticeably triangular, the greaves and gauntlets add lots of sharp edges and bulk as well etc.

The more "feminine" aspects of it shine through in subtle ways, I especially like the use of the pastel yellow-green tassels and ribbon that serve as a vector of "delicate-ness". It's pretty effective! You can tell Fujishima also had a field day with her hair, look at the ponytail, so airy. So graceful. Like a stroke of ink in water. Oh and also she's wearing hotpants.

Now if you look back at her swimsuit design, do you see the same amount if care and creativity? No. Just slap a bunch of ruffles and sad ribbons there you go done bye. It's just so sad. The jewelry is also lacking in refinement. Is that mickey mouse pendant? I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be. The upper arm bracelet has potential but the beads are way too big and crude. There's no life to this design I swear. And what's with the tribal(????) tattoo. Genuinely. What was the plan. Am I saying a character's swimsuit should necessarily resonate with the base design? No, not necessarily but in Alisha's case it's kind of the only think I can reliably go off of. So yeah. Not a good swimsuit, she deserves better. But then again if the discourse around Zestiria and Alisha specifically hold any semblance of truth, "deserving better" is a significant aspect of Alisha as a character in the story so maybe this specific swimsuit is actually meta commentary on how little the narrative thinks of her. (don't ask me i dont have a clue)

Now onto characters I actually know about: Velvet. Does it fit her personality: No, she'd either go around tits out in nothing but an old pair of trunks that aren't even swimming trunks, or wear one of those full-coverage swimsuits, no middle ground. I think the pengyon (at least i think it's a pengyon?) that replaces her gauntlet thingy is cute. And the ripped mini-shorts and the fact that the bra part still allows for an underboob view and probably provides little to no support at all do a good job of resonating with her main outfit. Google tells me the hibiscus flower represents womanhood in the language of flowers and Velvet is ineed a woman. So there's that.

Last but not least: Shionne. She's the reason it took me so long to respond to this ask. Every time i opened the post, her butt would hypnotize me and I couldn't do anything. Her swimsuit design also incorporate elements that are reminiscent of her Noble Scarlet dress (the off-the-shoulder jacket gives a silhouette that is similar to the effect given by the pauldrons and even the sleeves of the dress itself that are under it, the little pouch on her thigh that replaces her... shell holder garter(?) etc). Now would Shionne the individual wear this swimsuit? ...sure? She'd totally get one of those one-piece swimsuits with cutouts that make it look like a bikini from behind, she's extra like that. It's also a very modern design both in terms of shape and print (though that's not specific to Shionne, the whole arise cast was given modern/sporty swimwear) which works well for her I think but she can also wear more traditional-looking pieces with ease. Speaking of traditional, the headband adds an element of softness and natural, it kinda screams cottagecore like that? Which I'm pretty sure Shionne totally digs btw. Though Shionne no doubt spends a good 15 minutes making the bow look Just Right And Effortlessly Cute. Then again I'm pretty sure that's exactly what cottagecore is about.

Summer is now over in the northern hemisphere where i live, yet if i close my eyes i might smell the chlorine fragrance of a bikini left to dry on a plastic chair in sunlight. I keep it alive in my heart.

[ailurocide]

bird nerd anon back at it again 👀 classwork is keeping me busy but i may leave bird infodumps in your inbox on occasion! I'm always happy to help and always happy to ramble on about birds ^_^

just as a disclaimer, i can't guarantee that everything will be 100% accurate, i'm not a biologist i'm just autistic gjksdfhgbjkdfb. Also just because i forgot to say it before, i do not support wing clipping or pinioning, especially not pinioning. It's awful on so many levels.

but I digress. Today's inbox essay: The Avian Respiratory System Scares Me! I alluded to it slightly in the pinioning ask, but birds have one of the most efficient respiratory systems in existance. Birds (save for those flightless birds that have heavily diverged, and even they retain a lot of these features) are designed for wing-powered flight above all else, and powered flight requires a HUGE amount of energy. This means that a bird in active flight needs as much oxygen in its system as it can possibly get, just to keep up with those energy requirements.

So how do they do it? Well, first of all, a bird's respiratory system takes up about 20% of their internal volume. In comparison, the human respiratory system takes just 5%. A significant part of this volume goes to the air sacs. These air sacs are used to keep the air in the lungs fresh and oxygenated, as well as serving to move air unidirectionally through the respiratory system as a whole (instead of air going in and out the same way as it does in mammals).

It actually takes two in/out breaths for air to pass through the avian respiratory system! it works like this:

Inhale - Air is inhaled and travels into the posterior air sacs, located towards the back end of the bird.

Exhale - Air is moved into the lungs, where oxygen is absorbed and carbon dioxide disposed of

Inhale - More air fills the posterior air sacs, while the now-stale air in the lungs is transferred to the anterior air sacs above/in front of the lungs.

Exhale - Fresh air from the second inhale enters the lungs (now halfway through the cycle), while the stale air in the anterior air sacs is finally expelled from the body

Oh, and did I mention that the air sacs are linked to the hollow insides of the bones? because they are! Bird bones aren't just hollow to be lighter, it's also to contain even more air!

Birds are so goddamn efficient at breathing it's insane. It's actually to the point where keeping a bird under anesthesia is extremely tricky, because anything they inhale affects them much more quickly than it would a similar-sized animal, but it also wears off much more quickly. It's a delicate task, keeping the bird from waking up while also not overdosing it. This is also why various fumes are so much more dangerous to birds than other animals.

There's so much more I could go on about how birds are actually min/maxed for flight but I'm gonna stop here for now. Next time possibly maybe: random gaggle of Egg Facts :]

“I’m not a biologist I’m just autistic” I need this as a disclaimer on all of my work from now until the end of time hsjdjdj

This is really cool actually!! I might subtly alter some stuff on the companion’s designs to try and reflect this….. tiny tiny bird waists to accentuate the larger lungs/chest

[madraleen]

Bungo Stray Dogs - Kafka Asagiri/Sango Harukawa Volumes 2-4: An All-Over-The-Place Commentary (*anime spoilers)

-yes, atsu-kun, it’s the mafia assault group "black lizard"

-TACHIHARAAA

-atsushi's dislikes: "himself." jesus, okay

-i see it now, that's anime dazai. i think. or i'm getting used to manga dazai's design. I DON'T KNOW! either way i love him.

-"dislikes: chuuya nakahara," dislikes my ass, don't lie in your bio, dazai

-kunikida: "dazai went missing again?" me when i watched bsd

-yosano slaps

-kunikida "dislikes: authority"??? TELL ME MORE!

-AKU-KUN LIKES CURIOS AND ANTIQUES?! TELL ME MORE!!

-why do so many people hate dogs in the manga. dazai, aku-kun, kyouka. there's a pattern there, with three mafia/ex-mafia members

-AHAHA AKUTAGAWA'S BACKGROUNDS BEING DARK 'CAUSE HE CONSERVES ELECTRICITY AHAHA

-how did i ever question the charm of manga dazai, now i see this man and squeal 

-yes, dazai's skill is no longer human, but his special-special skill is riling people up.

-akutagawa actually freakin' hit dazai though, huh. i didn't remember that. ofc i wouldn't remember, my perception of s1 akutagawa was very much "hiss, shoo, begone villain," which is obviously not at all the case now, so i wouldn't have retained the random acts of violence, it would be par for the course for the antagonist

-did we ever get that transmitter out of kyouka?

-ah yes, that one time that ranpo was like, "meh, let the mafia take atsushi, it's not our division"

-CHUUUUUYAAAAAAA, my man, serving looks since volume 3

-don't mind me, just screaming that dazai and chuuya share panels, same old same old

-state of dazai's neck bandages: just assume they're there at all times

-chuuya, what a rabid lil chihuahua <3. that's enough now though, you know i don't like it when dazai gets hurt...

-well, judging from experience, every single time dazai has gotten caught it was because he allowed it, so that's something to keep in mind for the future i guess

-some day i'll thoroughly research when dazai's eyes are light and when they're dark. this is not that day. but some day.

-the way dazai riles up chuuya so much that chuuya just literally gives the word "trembling" a whole new meaning

-i'm not seeing any consistency, dazai has light eyes both when he's serious and unserious, is it just aesthetics?

-akutagawa and atsushi are so complementary in their everything

-i wonder what voices i'd have given them if i didn't know their voices already. when i read a manga first, sometimes i'm spot-on, down to the va, and sometimes i'm wildly off

-akutagawa bb :'( that menace dazai has traumatized you so, i'm sorry :"(

-WHY IS DAZAI WEARING THOSE GLASSES, WHAT IS THIS POSE, HE'S SO UNSERIOUS I LOVE HIM

-AGATHA, AGATHA CHRISTIE, ORDER OF THE CLOCK TOWER

-hold up, hold up, fyodor?? that's not in the anime, is it? did it completely fly over my head?

-atsushi re kyouka: "she's a murderer." tanizaki's reply: "...and i guess that's bad." PLEASE CHILD, GO TO PORT MAFIA ALREADY AND RELIEVE MY FEARS

-AHAHA fukuzawa "she is my granddaughter." they're really all his children, aren't they

-kenji-kun <3

-i read kunikida's "back from buying eggs on sale" and i screeched out loud "BACK FROM BUYING EGGS ON SALE," what's wrong with me, sheesh

-ATSUSHI'S NONPLUSSED FACE, I WANT TO PINCH HIS CHEEKS

-i remember that in the anime this is how i first started warming up to akutagawa, through higuchi's worry over him. i wanted him to make it for her, and then... and then i just started liking akutagawa, as one does.

-akutagawa held higuchi's hand :'))) remember that, aku-kun. remember that to mori you're disposable, to higuchi you are not. know your allies.

-hirotsu's dislikes: "society at large." lmao i mean...

-i'm sorry, is the concept here that the agency all live in the same building? is this what we're implying or am i reading into things? because like. IS IT, I NEED TO KNOW

-have i mentioned how much i love dazai, it's been a while hasn't it, hi i love dazai

-yeah okay, "dazai is toying with atsushi again," but he's not wrong. what do we do, just dump kyouka in a flat of her own, given her circumstances?

-dude, it's so nice seeing dazai in the same panels as atsushi, kukinida... it's been so long. so long in the current timeline

-oookay, so the plot was, francis wants the ada license in order to search freely for the book, fukuzawa refuses, and so francis decides to take out all the employees so that there won't be an agency to keep and protect in the first place

-that one time mori-san assisted in shaping atsushi's mindset to make him stronger

-"chuuya-kun, dazai's ex-best friend" ASFJFDNKJD MORI DROPPING TRUTHS

-CHUUYA HAS DAZAI AS "BLUE MACKEREL" IN HIS PHONE? god help me. AND HE RANDOMLY CALLS HIM WHEN HE'S DRUNK AND ANGRY?! WHAT ARE YOU SAYING NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

-"SNAIL"?! SNAIL?! DAZAI HAS CHUUYA LISTED AS SNAIL?!

[jasmariswonderland]

A little late, but it’s finally done! Here is Heloise’s birthday interview! 💚

~~~

Yuulan: Happy Birthday, Heloise! 

Heloise: Thank you, Yuulan. That’s your name, yes?

Y: It is. How are you enjoying your birthday? Any greetings that have left an impression on you?

H: Everyone in my dorm was very enthusiastic in wishing me well today. Sebek in particular was very happy when he found out today was my birthday. And of course, Vidaria was very warm and sincere in her wishes as well. She helped me get ready for today’s party and even lent me one of her necklaces to wear today. Since this is my first time celebrating my birthday away from home, she says she wants it to be as special as can be!

Y: That’s so sweet, any other gifts that have stuck out to you today?

H: Hmmm, well I’ve received many wonderful gifts today that it would be hard to pick just one! But if I had to pick, I’d say the telescope my father sent me. Stargazing is something of a hobby for me but I don’t get much of a chance to do that at school So I’m very happy with it. Especially since there’s going to be an eclipse two nights from now!

~~~

Y: You’ve mentioned your interest in astronomy and gazing at the stars, but could you share with us some of your other hobbies?

H: There are a lot of things I like to do. But besides stargazing, I really enjoy traveling and personal training. Since I’m preparing to serve the Draconias when I graduate, it’s very important to me that I’m well versed in many skills so I can be the best retainer I can. 

Y: What does your training usually look like?

H: My father is a Briar Valley diplomat and before enrolling in this school, I would often travel with him on his official duties around Twisted Wonderland. Even though these were technically work trips, I’ve learned so much about life outside the fae world and I want to continue broadening my horizons with more travel in the future. I also study multiple languages, physical combat, and magic of course. 

Y: Earlier today, I noticed you tending to a very pretty raven, you seemed to be talking to it. Is animal linguistics one of your skills?

H: Hehe, you might be surprised to hear this but that’s actually one of my worst subjects! But the raven you saw me tending to was Igraine, she’s my magical familiar. 

Y: Oh? Like Professor Trein’s cat?

H: Exactly. You see, the connection between magic users and their familiars is unlike that between pet and master, it’s much closer. Though I’m not good at communicating with other animals, Igraine and I have a special bond that allows me to communicate with her. Kind of like with you and Grim. 

Y: *laughs* Well, I’m not sure if I’d really call Grim a familiar since I can’t use magic, but we have a nice connection I guess. 

~~~

Y: How does it feel to be back at Night Raven College?

H: I’m very glad to be back in school! When I couldn’t return right away at the beginning of the school year, I was very upset even though I was recovering from illness. Back home, I was extremely restless to resume school life. That may sound weird but here at NRC, I can spend time with Vidaria and Lilia and be with the other friends I’ve made here. As much as I love Briar Valley, the atmosphere there can be very constricting. And I’ve had many experiences here that I normally wouldn’t have at home. 

Y: Speaking of which, what has been one of your most memorable experiences here at school?

H: Ohhh, definitely playing in the interdorm spelldrive tournament last year! I remember going to a spelldrive game with my father a few years before I enrolled in NRC. It left such an impression on me that I began learning the sport as soon as I got home. I would practice with the castle guards sometimes and when I came to school and found out there was a tournament held between all the dorms, I immediately signed up! I really enjoyed playing with my dorm mates, even if Malleus did most of the work in securing Diasomnia’s victory. 

Y: Diasomnia won again this year too. 

H: I’m not surprised! I really wish I could have been there too! But the first thing I did once I returned to NRC was rejoin the spelldrive club. Leona-san doesn’t really get along with my other dormmates, but he said he was glad to have me back. Even though I’m on the smaller side, I’m swift on my broom, my wits are sharp and my spells are always precise! There’s a freshman on our team this year, he’s around the same size as me and I’ve been giving him pointers on how to be a stronger player even while being short. 

Y: I’m sure Epel appreciates that. And will you be playing against RSA at the interschool tournament coming up soon?

H: You bet I will! I couldn’t last year and this might be an arrogant thing to say but I’m fully confident the only reason RSA won was because of my absence! But just wait until my teammates and I step on the field this year, victory will finally be ours if I have any say in it! 

Y: I’m looking forward to that! Thank you for sharing all of that with us, and once again, happy birthday! 

[maiji]

[image: rough sketches of Kirin from Yu Yu Hakusho as 1) a Heian era nobleman or courtier; 2) in the actual series timeline as Mukuro’s second-in-command; and 3) a modern-era interpretation wearing a face mask and removing it to reveal that his mouth is slit from ear to ear with jaws full of sharp jagged teeth.]

What does Kirin look like under his mask? (The Loyal Retainer fanseries interpretation)

I already drew what I thought he might look like 1,000 years ago during the Heian era in Mirror Most Dark, historically-inaccurate hair and all. So here’s how I think he looks now, under his mask. I had doodled something like this on a tablet several years ago, but the tablet has since died and I can’t find it anymore…

This idea is based on a couple of things. 

One, I have this very vague, fuzzy concept that Kirin had some sort of horror-story-esque encounter something-something (like I said, it’s very vague and fuzzy) from the early days of his time under Mukuro before he became her second-in-command, well over a century ago. Possibly even part of how he joined her territory and army in the first place. After that he started covering his face.

The second thing is one of my convoluted little “in-joke" references. I’ve written lot of Kirin and Hokushin as coworkers, especially in the Left and Right Hand of the Emperor. So it was amusing to me to play with a slit-mouth design for Kirin, serving as a contrast to Hokushin with the latter’s stretchy neck ability. Slit mouth and stretchy neck are the hallmarks of two very famous, very classic yokai - kuchisake-onna and rokurokubi, respectively. Both yokai are well-integrated with regular human life, as they look almost completely human and can be found in normal everyday life settings… and both are yokai who are almost always presented as female (this is also a part of Hokushin’s backstory in North Bound). So this kind of flips it on its head.

Kuchisake-onna, or slit-mouth woman, is a well-known tale about a woman with long black hair with her lower face covered (in modern times, she’ll have a face mask). She seems very beautiful, and indeed she’ll approach you and ask you, “Am I beautiful?” If you say no, she’ll kill you. If you say yes, she’ll take off her mask to reveal that her mouth has been sliced open from ear to ear, and ask you “Even like this??”

If you say no, again, she’ll kill you, and if you say yes or scream, she’ll tell you that she’ll make you beautiful just like her and then slice your mouth as well. The “correct” answer is apparently “you’re average/so-so”, after which she’ll leave you alone. There are also various “neutralization” tactics that have been spread around. e.g., that she’s scared of certain things, like hair gel (I’m just picturing Yusuke and Kuwabara going “well I’m armed and ready!!”) or loves candy, etc. etc. I’ve always had a very strong impression of kuchisake-onna due to reading Jigoku Sensei Nube since childhood. It has a very sympathetic portrayal of the legend, explaining how it’s been distorted via urban legends and social-cultural broken telephone through the ages. In any case, the tale of kuchisake-onna continues today, scaring many small children and even adults and perhaps fueled even more by the fact that there are tons of people wearing facemasks these days. So very trend-setting! 

Not sure what else we might want to take away from this. Maybe that Kirin really, really likes candy. Yes, I think that’s another headcanon we can have.

More stuff about Kirin in the Kirin cheatsheet, and here’s a whole tag’s worth of him!

[robininthelabyrinth]

noncon-anon🔪🔪🔪...2!: Regardless of how much jealousy he holds toward his half brother, Meng Yao never expected or wanted to have Jin Zixuan on his knees before him. Certainly not like this, at least (his half-brother wrapped in chains, in the middle of the Sun Palace’s main hall, with Wen Ruohan and who knows how many other people watching) but he hadn’t been expecting Jin Zixuan to get captured either, and if this is what he has to do to remain in the Chief Cultivator’s favor, then so be it; may the gods forgive him for this violation of his kin (...and maybe if he puts on a good enough show, Wen Ruohan will let him keep his half-brother alive).

ao3

warning for adult content (full warnings on ao3)

Meng Yao had spent years not thinking of Jin Zixuan as anything other than an obstacle in the way of his ultimate goal – his father’s recognition, himself as the heir and eventual master of Lanling Jin – and he bitterly resented Wen Ruohan for trashing all that effort.

It was impossible to keep the image of Jin Zixuan that he’d had in his mind before: the spoiled, arrogant princeling in the same make as Wen Chao, less a human being than a statute of gilded gold, all fancy clothing and flawless appearance.

There was nothing of that now.

There was nothing arrogant about the frightened young man on his knees in front of him, chains carved with suppression arrays wrapped around his body – they’d been designed for a much stronger cultivator than he, Wen Ruohan’s mind lingering too often on his chief-most enemy in the war, Nie Mingjue, and Jin Zixuan was as helpless beneath them as a lamb, shivering in blind terror at being taken away from all he knew dear. His retainers had all been taken off to the Fire Palace or killed where they knelt, their corpses dragged off leaving smears of blood on the ground, and only he remained.

Meng Yao’s envy.

His brother.

His mother had always wanted to give him a brother, he abruptly recalled, and hated Wen Ruohan all the more for making him remember it. Her womb had closed after him, such that she couldn’t try for another even if she’d wanted to, but she’d day-dreamed about him making friends with the legitimate sons her sect leader – that was how she always called him, her sect leader – would undoubtedly have, pointlessly giving him advice on how to make friends with them, impress them, make them like him.

Not – this.

Never anything like this.

“Look at the gift I got for you, Meng Yao,” Wen Ruohan said, smiling. “A twin from another womb, born on the same day as you, but unlike you planted in the legitimate belly and so hoarded like a treasure – I would wager that you wish you could peeling his skin off and wrap yourself in it, wear it back to Lanling Jin.”

Meng Yao smiled. “Sect Leader Wen does me too much honor. This lowly one does not deserve such a gift.”

We may be born on the same day, but I’m three years older than him, and my mother isn’t a disgusting vicious old hag like Madame Jin. How dare you compared them.

“And yet I have chosen to give it,” Wen Ruohan said, brooking no disagreement as always. “You do such fine work in my Fire Palace, Meng Yao, with strangers who have never looked at you twice – I cannot wait to see what marvels you will accomplish with a target that you actually abhor. Which of your fine instruments will we try on him first? Should we break his spirit by removing his sword hand, or cut off Jin Guangshan’s hopes along with his balls?”

He laughed, endlessly amused by himself.

Meng Yao smiled along – mother wanted me to be his friend – and mentally ran through his options as fast as he could. He couldn’t risk angering Wen Ruohan, not when the other man held the entirety of the Nightless City in the palm of his hand, not when the only thing keeping Meng Yao himself out of the Fire Palace and strung up on his own instruments of torture was the quality of his service.

“I will of course not disappoint the Sect Leader,” he says smoothly, and pretended to ignore the way Jin Zixuan flinched, with his face so similar to his own, to the face his mother had loved so foolishly. “Only…”

“Only?”

Meng Yao ducked his head bashfully. “Sect Leader is too generous to me, it makes me go beyond myself; I start to think of things I should not. When I was young…ah, but it does not matter.”

“Don’t equivocate,” Wen Ruohan ordered, but his attention was caught, as Meng Yao had intended. “What were you going to say?”

“It’s only that when I was young, my mother would tell me stores of Lanling Jin,” Meng Yao said, and hated, hated, hated Wen Ruohan for making him have to share such things. “Her hope was that my father would accept me as his recognized son, but failing that, she had always assumed he would take me at least as – as a servant for the one he already had.”

He didn’t need more than that: Wen Ruohan got it right away. “And so once you were rejected you dreamed of the opposite, is that it?”

“It would satisfy this lowly one’s most fervent dream, Sect Leader.”

Wen Ruohan smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile – it was full of hidden dangers. “Ah, Meng Yao, you dare to dream so high! There’s only one problem with your suggestion that I see. This well-born child, this treasure of Lanling, what possible servant could he make? His hands are so clean and soft, he would not be able to do manual labor nor even sweep your floor. What possible use could you make of him?”

The answer came to Meng Yao at once, and he hated himself this time even as he responded with a pleasant smile: “Well, Sect Leader, in the absence of any other use, I could always have him serve me in bed.”

Wen Ruohan burst out laughing, caught by surprise.

He loved the idea, of course, as Meng Yao knew he would. Wen Ruohan was a man with esoteric tastes; he enjoyed torturing and humiliating his enemies, and the prouder the man the more he longed to ruin them. Even within the time Meng Yao had worked in his Fire Palace, he had seen Wen Ruohan offer a brother his family’s freedom if only he would forcefully take his sister’s purity, which the unfortunate man had done, weeping piteously all the while.

Yes, Wen Ruohan loved the idea, and because of that, Meng Yao had a chance of saving Jin Zixuan’s miserable life that he’d only need to later end, if he was to truly achieve all of his desires.

He would, too. He wouldn’t hesitate to end Jin Zixuan’s life if it served his ends.

Just not - like this.

My mother wanted us to be friends.

“Very well,” Wen Ruohan said, waving his hand. “You may have him as your bedwarmer.” Meng Yao had not even begun to salute in thanks when he added, “But before you accept such a gift, you should try it out.”

Meng Yao was not so foolish as to let his smile freeze. “Here, Sect Leader?”

“Why not here? It may as well be witnessed.”

Like a marriage, he meant, and Meng Yao hated him.

“Of course, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, and this time he completed the salute, bowing deeply, and made his way over to his hapless younger brother who was shaking like a leaf, just as unable to flee.

Meng Yao knelt before him and began to open his clothing, taking a moment to lean forward and hiss in his ear, “Keep your mouth shut. Play along and you will live; resist and you will die.”

It was neither threat nor reassurance but merely fact, but Jin Zixuan clearly needed the words – needed to think that there was someone here on his side, however illusionary the sensation was.

Whatever he was thinking, it worked.

Jin Zixuan stopped trying to fight and submitted as best as he could, even if he couldn’t help but flinch any time a new piece of flesh was exposed.

He was quivering like a quail, and Meng Yao sighed and reached for his half-brother’s cock, making him squeak in an undignified fashion as he started stroking it.

“Is that entirely necessary?” Wen Ruohan asked, sounding bored.

“I intend to get plenty of use out of him, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao replied, his tone equally bored as if this were merely a chore even as Jin Zixuan’s cock unwillingly started swelling up beneath his palm. “If I tear him up the first time I bed him, I’d have to stitch him up and wait for him to heal before I can take him again, lest I want to risk his death. And there’s only one legitimate heir, isn’t there?”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. “I suppose so.”

“Besides,” Meng Yao continued, because he knew he had to keep Wen Ruohan’s interest. “There’s some fun in this as well: look how responsive he is, getting hard for me already. He’s tied up in chains and bared for half the world to see, and all he cares about is his dick.”

“Reasonable, for a son of a pleasure-lover like Jin Guangshan,” Wen Ruohan agreed, and he sounded much less bored now. “Your shared father.”

“Our shared father,” Meng Yao agreed, and reached down with his free hand to open his own robes, pulling out his own cock. “Would you like to see how similar we are?”

He lined himself up next to Jin Zixuan – they really were similar, in both look and size, and Wen Ruohan laughed as Meng Yao shifted over to pleasuring them both at the same time. Jin Zixuan had his lips pressed tightly together, but he couldn’t help the little whimpers and mewls that broke free now and again, nor the way his hips bucked up under Meng Yao’s skillful work. He wasn’t the first man Meng Yao had pleasured like this, and, if anything, he seemed almost unexpectedly inexperienced.

Meng Yao would have assumed that Jin Zixuan, as Jin Guangshan’s son, would have had his fill of brothels by this age, have fucked every hole in every way that whores offered for sale and then some, but perhaps his jealous bitch of a mother wouldn’t let him.

Certainly it didn’t take very long before he was coming helplessly in Meng Yao’s hands.

“Did you like that, brother?” Meng Yao asked him, and Jin Zixuan looked at him in betrayal. “You came so quickly – you liked having your brother’s hands on you, didn’t you? The same blood as yours. They say mine is less pure on account of your mother being born in a palace and mine in a brothel, but in the end it seems that you’re the one that turned out the whore.”

Jin Zixuan’s face was red and flushed, but he didn’t say a word, didn’t resist as Meng Yao pushed him down and spread his legs, merely grunted when Meng Yao slid fingers slicked up with his own come into him one a time.

“You’re tight here, which is to be expected,” Meng Yao continued, aware of their audience – the one on the throne being the only one that mattered, although there were plenty of guards watching avidly as well. “I doubt anyone’s ever made use of you before, unless our shared father has even more interesting tastes than I thought…”

Jin Zixuan flushed even redder and shook his head furiously.

“No? Then let your older brother be the first.” Jin Zixuan’s body was involuntarily relaxed after his orgasm, and Meng Yao was in a hurry, knowing that he couldn’t draw this out too long lest Wen Ruohan grow bored – he stretched him roughly, making as much space as best as he could, then put his cock at his entrance. Before he did anything more, he reached over and grabbed Jin Zixuan by the hair, forcing him to bend forward so that he could see Meng Yao’s cock about to breach him. “At the brothel, they say a woman always remembers her first man. They say it’s because her body shapes itself to him, molding the inside to accommodate him, never to be the way it was before – making her the perfect fit for his cock and no one else’s, no matter how many others she might one day take. I’ve heard the same is true for men. What do you think, little brother? Are you ready to take me into you? Are you ready to watch as I turn you into something fit only for me?”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t tear his tear-filled eyes away.

Meng Yao pushed in, and Jin Zixuan whined, high and loud, pathetic. It didn’t stop Meng Yao at all, pushing in inexorably – Jin Zixuan was hot and tight, about what he’d thought he’d be, same as anyone else. There wasn’t any magic to incest, no matter how much it got Wen Ruohan off.

(It got Meng Yao off, too. But he’d be a very poor whore’s son indeed if he didn’t know how to separate business and pleasure - and this was a performance. Would he say such ridiculous words, words that no one would believe if their dicks weren’t hard, otherwise?)

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, because he knew Wen Ruohan liked to hear it, and maybe also because he liked the way it made Jin Zixuan have to turn his face away in shame. “You really were a virgin, weren’t you? Look at you, giving yourself to me like a bride on her wedding night, taking me all inside of you. What a good little bedwarmer you’re going to be.”

He settled in all the way, hips pressed against warm flesh, and enjoyed the sensation of Jin Zixuan futilely clenching around him in an attempt to get him out.

“I’ll teach you all the tricks to please me,” he said, starting to rock back and forth, moving in and out. “Every morning you’ll present yourself to me to use; every evening too, and if I get bored during the middle of the day I’ll use your mouth. Once I’ve gotten you properly broken in, I’ll rent you out to anyone who asks – I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Make you the good little whore and me the master, make you earn on your back that gold you’ve always worn as if you deserved it.”

He was thrusting in earnest now, Jin Zixuan’s legs around his waist, and to his amusement it looked like Jin Zixuan was getting hard again. It wasn’t really a surprise, a natural reaction to the strange and confusing sensations he was enduring, none of which said anything as to whether or not he was enjoying himself at all, but Meng Yao dropped his hand onto Jin Zixuan’s cock yet again.

“See, you’re halfway to a whore already,” he mocked. “Getting hard on big brother’s cock like a good boy. Good and obedient – you’re going to come with my cock inside of you, and belong to me forever.”

Jin Zixuan was whimpering, tears streaming down his face, but it still didn’t take long for him to come.

Meng Yao finished shortly after.

He allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the sensation, and then pulled out, pulling Jin Zixuan’s leg up so that Wen Ruohan could see the come dripping out of his abused hole.

“Well done,” Wen Ruohan said, clapping. His eyes were avid. “Well done indeed. As always, Meng Yao, your craftsmanship is exquisite. You may keep him – although perhaps another show might be in order, soon enough.”

“Of course, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, and snapped his fingers for a guard to take Jin Zixuan to his room. Sad and miserable and pathetic, but still alive – just as he’d promised.

Naturally, the situation of keeping Jin Zixuan as his personal pet wasn’t tenable in the long run, and so it was only a few days later when Meng Yao kneeled in front of Wen Ruohan and said, “Sect Leader, I have an idea for something we can do with Jin Zixuan.”

“I’m listening,” Wen Ruohan said lazily. “What do you have in mind?”

“I have left him alone and isolated in my bedchamber these past few days, growing increasingly nervous and paranoid,” Meng Yao said. “I propose to allow him to ‘escape’ with some information to deliver to Sect Leader Lan, who will believe his peer well above he might believe some anonymous sender of notes. And he, in turn, will pass the information along to Sect Leader Nie…”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes lit up in immediate interest, as Meng Yao had expected. He was always keen to hear any word about Nie Mingjue.

“I believe this mechanism will allow us to lure Sect Leader Nie into a trap,” Meng Yao said. “And then…”

He let his eyes drift over to the chains that had so recently housed Jin Zixuan.

“Do as you suggest,” Wen Ruohan ordered at once. What did one little Jin Zixuan matter to him, next to the possibility of gaining a Nie Mingjue?

Meng Yao saluted and left. It was settled, then – Jin Zixuan would be let go and make his way back to the Great Sect’s side of the war, they would both put this unfortunate incident out of their heads, and life would carry on as if nothing had happened.

(Years later, when Jiang Yanli coaxed Jin Guangyao into a bedroom where Jin Zixuan waited, shivering in a completely different way, it finally occurred to him that he hadn’t told Jin Zixuan that that was the plan, and also perhaps that the other man lacked his own talent for compartmentalization – but in the end it all turned out all right anyway, even if it did mean he’d need to revamp his plans for conquering the Jin sect to find a way to keep his new pet alive in the long run.

Damn Wen Ruohan. It was all his fault!)

[aurora077]

The Value of Recognition Chapter 2

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13934252/2/The-Value-of-Recognition

Chapter 2 - Who’s your shufu!????

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah” cried mini jiujiu.

“Ahhh please jiujiu, don’t cry!” said a distraught Jin Ling.

“A-niang….a-die” sobbed the baby.

Jin Ling was now close to tears himself.

“Young Master Jiang,” cooed Healer Zhang, “Look what I have here. If you stop crying, you can have some.”

She waved a sweet-cake in front of him.

He paused his crying, peeking at the Healer tentatively. At the same moment his stomach rumbled. He looked very much like he wanted the cake. But then he shook his head and said, “Jiejie said A-Cheng mustn't take food fwom stwangers.” He sniffled miserably. “A-Cheng wants jiejie,” his eyes started watering again. This time Jin Ling’s eyes were watering too.

“It seems like Jiang-zongzhu has not retained his memories,” concluded Healer Zhang, “So it’s not just his body but his mind as well that has reverted.”

Jin Ling nodded in understanding. It would hurt but he couldn’t lie to his jiujiu about this. Though he couldn’t quite say the truth either. “Jiejie isn't here,” he ended up saying. The others were watching quietly and felt their own hearts hurt for the both of them.

“No. Want jiejie. Jiejie won’t leave A-Cheng,” he sniffled, big baby eyes staring accusingly at them as if to say ‘you’re lying’.

No, they were not tearing up. They weren’t!

“Hey look who’s here!” said Ouyang Zizhen, bursting into the room with Wei Wuxian following behind him. The infirmary was now very crowded.

They all turned to look at him, and he stopped short in his tracks upon seeing the somber looks on their faces. “Oh no! What happened? Is Sect Leader Jiang okay?”

“Where’s Jiang Cheng?” said Wei Wuxian, abnormally serious.

“He’s right here,” said Jin Ling, lifting the baby slightly.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. “A-Yuan.. Did you maybe... forget to mention something?”

“No! He wasn’t like this yesterday!” Sizhui defended.

“Huh, well how did this happen then?”

But before anyone could answer him the baby gave a short cry, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Wei Wuxian. He struggled in Jin Ling’s arms stretching out his own towards Wei Wuxian in the universal baby gesture for ‘pick me up’.

“I thought he didn’t remember anything?” said Lan Jingyi.

Healer Zhang looked just as confused as they did, “He shouldn’t… from what we’ve heard so far.”

“But he seems to recognise Senior Wei though.”

“I mean to be fair he might just think Senior Wei looks the least intimidating or something, cuz that’s not usually how he looks when Senior Wei is around,” said Zizhen. To be frank, none of them had ever seen Sect Leader Jiang looking openly happy to see anyone.

Xiao Jiang Cheng seemed to get fed-up of waiting on Wei Wuxian to come get him though and with a burst of strength he pulled away from Jin Ling and tried to hop off the bed to go to him himself.

He seemed to be at an age where he could come off of the bed by himself but he wasn’t wearing clothes in his size, he was merely wrapped in adult-him’s inner robe, which tripped him up and he would have face-planted if not for Jin Ling’s good reflexes.

Seeing as he was thwarted, his eyes began to water again. Raising his arms once more he looked pleadingly towards Wei Wuxian, “Shufu!”

Wei Wuxian choked on his own spit. “Shu… who???”

Seeing fat tears start to drip down Xiao Cheng’s chubby cheeks he hurried over and picked him up. “Alright. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he soothed, as the baby snuggled into him.

His tears petered out and he looked up at Wei Wuxian hopefully. “Wei-Shufu, whewe’s A-die an A-niang? Flower-gege (Lan Jingyi snickered in the background “Flower-gege hehe” “Shut up idiot” “But it suits you”) said jiejie is not hewe. It’s not twue, wight shufu?” he frowned.

Oh. Oh no.

For some reason, Jiang Cheng was calling him uncle and seemed to be okay with his presence, unlike all the other people in the room. But...how was he supposed to answer that question. The guilt hit him acutely because if only this child remembered that it was thanks to saving him that his jiejie was no longer around, he would hate him once more.

But how could he tell this child that his parents and sister were dead?

He couldn’t.

“A-Cheng, do you know why Wei-shufu is here? It’s because your A-die, A-niang, and jiejie had to go on a trip. So Uncle Wei is here to keep A-Cheng company. And all of these friends are here too.”

“Twip? Witout A-Cheng?” And oh no how could a baby look so heartbroken? He’d made a grave mistake.

Jin Ling glared at Wei Wuxian. “They left A-Cheng here because A-Cheng is going to be Sect Leader one day. Do you remember what a Sect Leader does?” he said hastily, trying to fix his colossal screw up.

“The Sect Weader has to pwotect the Sect,” said A-Cheng, as if he had memorised that fact.

“That’s right. And who is the Sect Leader” “A-die!”

“Mhm. But when A-die and A-niang are not here, who will protect the sect?”

“A-Cheng?” he said questioningly.

“That’s right! A-die trusts A-Cheng to watch over the sect when he is not here. And A-niang trusted Uncle Wei to watch over A-Cheng.” Well, that was entirely the truth and way too bittersweet. He pushed down the feeling to focus on the child in front of him, “So will A-Cheng allow Uncle Wei and these friends to help him?” He set his little face determinedly and nodded seriously. An expression that was so Jiang Cheng that he couldn’t help but pinch his little cheeks in response, making the child squirm and pout at him.

His movements made the big robe that was wrapped around him loosen slightly and halfway fall off. Wei Wuxian fixed it but decided they would need a plan of action, especially as the child’s stomach rumbled once more and he blushed, hiding his face in his Uncle Wei’s chest.

“Alright, so here’s what we’re going to do,” he said decisively.

“A-Ling, if I know anything about Jiang Cheng, it’s that he’s really a big sap, and I assume he still has some of your baby clothes lying around here somewhere. See if you can find any. If you can’t, use that nice Lanling gold of yours to go to the tailor’s and order some. We don’t know how long he will be like this and we can’t keep wrapping him in these *he indicated to the huge robe* things. He needs proper clothes.” Normally Jin Ling would protest being given an order by Wei Wuxian, but this was for jiujiu and he didn’t want anyone else poking through his uncle’s things anyway, so he left right away to find some of his old baby robes.

“Have you all had breakfast yet? “No Senior Wei.”

“Okay, right, next order of business is breakfast. This little one is hungry. By now the kitchens must be busy. Lotus Pier has breakfast ready by 6:00am so we don’t have to wait very long. Though I don’t know if A-Cheng can wait, maybe we need to find something for him until then.”

“I offered him a green bean cake,” said Healer Zhang, “But his jiejie rightfully taught him not to eat from strangers. Maybe he will eat it from his Uncle Wei though, to tide him over until breakfast is served.”

“Hmm A-Cheng, do you want the cake?”

He nodded shyly.

(“This is so weird,” said Lan Jingyi. “Yeah… I never thought Sandu Shengshou would have been such a cute child,” said Ouyang Zizhen gleefully. He’d been aching to pinch those cheeks since Senior Wei did it and drew his attention to them. So. Cute. Zizhen was gonna die.)

Healer Zhang held out the cake to him and he took it, bowing halfway from Wei Wuxian’s arms and saying a quiet Thank You.

Zizhen was having cuteness overload. “He’s so polite.” *sniffs*

“Now while the Young Master eats that cake, I’d like to do a checkup,” said Healer Zhang seriously.

“Yes, I was about to suggest it myself. A-Cheng, will you let Healer Zhang do her job? I promise it will be okay, Healer Zhang is a doctor and you can trust her.”

A-Cheng looked sceptical but he nodded and Wei Wuxian handed him off to her. “Uncle Wei is right here, A-Cheng, don’t worry.”

He turned back to the juniors while Healer Zhang did her inspection, “A-Yuan, your message said that he was only unconscious. How did he become this way instead?”

“We don’t know Senior Wei, Jingyi and I were woken up by a baby’s cry. When we came to check on Sect Leader Jiang, we found out the baby was him! Senior Wen and Jin Ling spent the night with him so maybe they will know. We didn’t get a chance to ask before you came because Sect Leader Jiang was very upset. He only really stopped crying when he saw you.”

“Wen Ning?” “Yes Master Wei?” “Aiya stop it with that Master Wei I told you.” Wen Ning blushed, as much as a fierce corpse could blush, he’d gotten better at not calling him master but it was a habit and those were hard to break. “What happened last night?”

“Nothing much at all, but this morning just before 5am Sect Leader Jin woke up and said Sect Leader Jiang felt hot like he had a fever, and he asked me to get Healer Zhang. When I came back with Healer Zhang, we just walked in and there was a huge flash of light and where Sect Leader Jiang was, there was a baby.”

“Huh. I haven’t heard of anything like it. We’ll have to do some research but if it’s related to the night hunt you went on maybe.. Hmm.. A-Yuan after breakfast, if you’re up for it you can play Inquiry and see what the spirit has to say. If we don’t solve this soon I might have to ask Lan Zhan to do it because they can’t lie to him.”

“How come Hanguang-Jun didn’t come with you, Senior Wei?” questioned Lan Jingyi.

“Ah well you know Lan Zhan and I just got back from travelling. Since old man Lan has been doing all of the sect leader duties it’s Lan Zhan’s turn. He couldn’t just leave again, it would be unfair. My core is strong enough now to make the trip from Gusu to Lotus Pier so I told him not to worry about me, I’ll be fine. I should probably shoot him a letter though, he’s probably going to worry until he hears from me.”

“I don’t care if you’re writing to Hanguang-Jun, but Wei Wuxian, this news better not be spread outside of Lotus Pier, or else,” threatened Jin Ling, walking back in with a few robes bundled in his hands. It would be a prime opportunity for jiujiu’s detractors to try and kill him as a defenceless baby.

Wei Wuxian raised his hands in surrender, “I know, I know. I won’t even put what the problem is in the letter. I’ll just say he’s been cursed.”

“Good.”

Jin Ling dumped the robes on Wei Wuxian’s lap. “You can dress him since he seems to like you the most.” He was not salty at all.

Wei Wuxian laughed sheepishly; it wasn’t like he could help that! Not that he wasn’t enjoying it of course, baby Jiang Cheng was adorable and looked even more fun to tease than big Jiang Cheng.

“Right,” said Healer Zhang, garnering their attention. Wei Wuxian’s levity fell away. “What have you determined?”

“Sect Leader is a healthy toddler.” Said toddler was already reaching out for Wei Wuxian, who cooed and cuddled him close.

“He seems about three at the moment. His memories of course, are of the three-year old him. He does not have a core at the moment so it’s likely that the curse actually transformed him to how he was exactly at that age, memories and all. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, other than the obvious of course. The issue here is that we don’t know if this is permanent or not. I can’t say if this will wear off or if he will have to grow up once more.”

Jin Ling made a wounded noise. As cute as xiao jiujiu was, he wanted his normal jiujiu back.

“We’ll find a solution,” said Wei Wuxian resolutely. “Yeah if anyone can find it it would be you Senior Wei!” said Zizhen supportively.

“Don’t worry so much Young Mistress,” Jingyi poked at Jin Ling’s furrowed brow, “Your pretty face will get premature wrinkles.” Jin Ling turned red and batted away his hand, scowling just like his uncle.

“Alright, breakfast should be ready by now. Let’s go kiddos. We’ll need to eat to keep up our strength. We have lots of work to do,” said Wei Wuxian.

Healer Zhang cleared her throat, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Eh?”

The robe slipped further down the baby.

“Ah hehe, oops. A-Cheng, be good and let Uncle Wei dress you.”

But the toddler took one look at Wei Wuxian’s disheveled robes (in his defense he’d come straight to the infirmary after flying to Lotus Pier okay, he didn’t have time to freshen up!) and screwed up his cute little face.

“Flower-gege help A-Cheng,” he said decisively.

Jin Ling, of course, was impeccable despite being in yesterday’s robes. Wei Wuxian pouted. “Figures he’d want the peacock’s son to dress him,” he mumbled.

Jin Ling was quietly delighted.

“Xiao-jiujiu, you have good taste,” he said, promptly taking the baby away to have a bath and get dressed.

“Well,” he said, overcoming his disappointment, “We should probably find whoever’s in charge while Jiang Cheng is away and brief them on the situation.” There was a twinge of hurt when he realised he didn’t know who that was. He and Lan Zhan had travelled for a while, only stopping for brief periods in Cloud Recesses as things were still a bit uncomfortable for him. The rule against interacting with him was still carved into the stone after all. It was easier to just...not remain there, and since Lan Zhan was known for going where the chaos was, it wasn’t unusual that he himself wasn’t often there. But with Lan Xichen’s seclusion, Master Lan had been running the sect once more. Since at the moment Lan Zhan was the heir, it really should have fallen to him if the Sect Leader was indisposed. As much as Master Lan was upset at his nephew’s choice of partner, he still gave him the freedom to wander about. Master Lan had fallen ill recently, nothing major but still, Lan Zhan had realised how much leeway his uncle was allowing him by taking on all the duties himself and had asked if Wei Ying would go back with him. They hadn’t expected that Wei Ying would be leaving on another trip on his own this time, to face the demons of his past (or in Lan Wangji’s eyes, demon). Lan Zhan couldn’t come with him no matter how much he’d wanted to. It would have been supremely unfair to Master Lan now that he’d accepted the responsibility of acting sect leader, to just up and leave again. But being here on his own really reminded him that this was no longer the Lotus Pier that he knew. Once upon a time he would have been the one who would be in charge if the Sect Leader was indisposed. He would have been Jiang Cheng’s right hand man. But he’s also the one who stuffed it all up so he had no right to feel bitter. It was his idea to defect. Jiang Cheng hadn’t wanted him to. He’d been doing his best to put the past in the past like he’d told Jiang Cheng to do, but he wouldn’t be able to escape it, would he? Jiang Cheng was now quite literally in the past….and Wei Wuxian would never be able to abandon him again. He didn’t want to. He’d find a way to restore Jiang Cheng, and failing that, he’d take care of him as much as possible.

“Indeed. I’ll get our Second-in-Command to speak to you. You should follow me, Sect Leader Jin will know where to find us for breakfast.” Healer Zhang’s voice brought him back to reality.

He nodded and they all followed, the juniors behind him like a row of ducklings.

Healer Zhang arranged for them to meet with the Second-in-Command, who introduced himself as Pan An. “Hehe rhymes with Lan An,” Jingyi joked quietly behind them. Wen Ning wanted to excuse himself since he didn’t need to eat and Pan An was staring at him rather intensely, but they insisted he was needed for the discussion and so he sat down reluctantly.

Luckily, breakfast was set out in a private room so that they could discuss matters freely and keep the mini sect leader with them. “I have already briefed the disciples on the importance of staying silent about Sect Leader’s indisposition,” said Pan An, “However, now Healer Zhang has said there is another problem?”

The aforementioned problem finally arrived and he was looking cute enough to eat in his mini Yunmeng Jiang robes, walking in on his own now, holding Jin Ling’s hand. Both uncle and nephew had taken a bath and Jin Ling had thoroughly enjoyed seeing xiao-jiujiu playing and laughing in the tub like he had no cares in the world. It was bittersweet because as much as he liked it he wished his jiujiu would be able to smile like that as an adult. It hurt his heart to think that this innocent little boy would have to go through so much pain in the future.

“Ah yes, here’s our problem now,” said Wei Wuxian, smiling at the toddler.

Pan An’s eyes widened. “I..is that who I think it is?”

“Yup,” said Lan Jingyi cheekily, “There’s the fearsome Sandu Shengshou in the flesh.”

“Jingyi..” reprimanded Sizhui.

“What,” he grinned, “It’s true. Children can be terrifying.” He shuddered thinking about the baby’s ear-piercing cries. A crying child was almost as scary as a ghost.

Wide-eyed, A-Cheng looked at the stranger and hid slightly behind his Flower-gege’s leg.

Jin Ling pat his head and picked him up. “Don’t be afraid, this is Pan An. Pan An is here to be your second-in-command while A-Die’s gone. You know that Sect Leaders have second-in-commands right?”

Xiao jiujiu nodded.

“Of course he does. A-Cheng’s a smart boy,” praised Wei Wuxian. The tot blushed and hid his face in Jin Ling’s robes. Jin Ling carried him over to the table and set him down in between himself and Wei Wuxian who began teasing the child immediately, squishing his cheeks to see his cute expressions of annoyance.

The juniors looked on in envy; the toddler had not warmed to them yet.

“We’ll debrief you after breakfast,” said Jin Ling, “Xiao jiujiu’s hungry. The rundown is that he’s been cursed and is now a three year old with no memories beyond that time.”

“And Pan-qianbei…” Jin Ling looked at him sharply, “Young Master Jiang’s family is currently on a trip. They have, of course, left him in charge because someone needs to protect the sect while they’re gone. We are all here to assist him.”

“Understood Sect Leader Jin.” The man was quick to catch on, after all Jiang Cheng would not leave just anyone in charge of his sect. Pan An was also secretly proud of the young boy in front of him. He was handling this situation well and sounded every inch the Sect Leader. His jiujiu would be proud, though he would mask it with grumbling if he wasn’t… three.

They all set about eating though Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian both fought to outdo the other when feeding mini Jiang Cheng. One would be spooning congee and the other breaking up buns to feed him...until-- “A-Cheng is big boy. A-Cheng eat like shufu and gege!” And what do you know, he really could eat by himself. That put a stop to their competition and they both pouted. Lan Jingyi didn’t even make fun of Jin Ling for it because...he got it.

Pan An could cry. Who knew his tsundere sect leader was so precious as a child?

Wei Wuxian sighed in pleasure. Yunmeng’s food was the best! It had been so long since he last ate at Lotus Pier.

“Wei-shufu like spicy?” asked A-Cheng, upon seeing him reach for the chilli to add to his already spicy dish.

“Mm. Wei-shufu likes spicy very much. A-Cheng is a good host. The food he serves his guests tastes the best! Wei-shufu has to visit more often.”

Mini Jiang Cheng nodded seriously at this. “Wei-shufu must bwing A-Ying an Aunty ‘angse. Wei-shufu pwomised to bwing A-Ying to play with A-Cheng next time. But now is next time an no A-Ying. A-Cheng want to meet A-Ying.”

And all of a sudden, he felt as if he’d taken a hit from Zidian. Wei Wuxian was struck dumb. Because he’d simply been going along with Xiao Cheng, thinking that some part of the child’s subconscious memory must have remained. But that wasn’t what it was, was it?

Because it was now obvious that Jiang Cheng thought...

Jiang Cheng thought he was Wei Changze.

[prorevenge]

Bridezilla Karen ends up looking like a pauper at her own wedding.

I (F48) have known “Pat” (F48) for decades. As far as I can remember, she was fixated on having 5 children and a picket fence dream life. I slowly cut ties with her in college because she was an opportunist and I didn’t trust her. She is both manipulative and forceful. Her idea of cute rubs me the wrong way. Pat likes to walk like a penguin when she wants to elicit pity, and she usually does this when she wants to evoke the underdog narrative. I’ve never seen someone act so despicable and ridiculous at the same time.

I moved on with my life. Happily got rid of her for years. Pat eventually found me on facebook. I accepted her friend request out of politeness.

Pat has become the epitome of a permissive mother. Her (5) kids do as they please and she never calls them out. She tried to force a relationship between me and her daughters and made them call me Auntie. Pat tried to drop them at my house uninvited. Her phone calls were insistent, she tried to monopolize my time and she began to show up at my job. I created some boundaries so she tried to find loopholes. It was a nightmare.

My husband and I hosted a party for the community center (not the real name) new members. The community center is actually a very informal initiative and my husband and I mainly serve the homeless population. We prefer to help strangers instead of catering to potentially narcissistic acquaintances. We don't mind lending a hand but we have encountered truly dishonest choosing beggars.

There are other services, like one of the members who helps women get their wedding and prom dresses for free.The community center location “headquarters” is actually a farm owned by an elderly couple. There is a barn, a venue and a very nice green field with an artificial lake and some fowl. They charge for the use of their facilities (weddings , etc.) but not for community oriented stuff.

Pat had always been salty at her husband for demanding that she go back to work after baby #3. In the meantime, he worked three jobs. She demanded he get her pregnant to fulfill her dream of having 5 kids. He didn’t agree, because he was already nearly 45 and felt like he might never be able to retire. She got away with bringing new babies into this world anyway. Her fascination with being pregnant comes from all the attention she gets. She had at least one miscarriage in between each kid.

Pat latched on to our group. She never missed any of our activities. I hated having her in my house, but it was an open invitation that included virtually everyone and she was very active as an event organizer. I didn’t like the way her kids behaved. We have a designated area for parties and entertainment, but her kids ended up inside my bedroom. We ended up having to keep watch of them and enjoyed zero of our own party.

I called her days later to get my point across (regarding their overall behavior) but she completely cut me off and began talking about herself and said her kids wanted to come visit again and use our pool. I never answered that. I didn't want to say “no, I will not have your brats over”.

She also called me as summer was approaching specifically to let me know her middle daughter was bored and wanted to spend a WEEK at our home. I politely declined, citing that me and my husband have to work and cannot entertain guests. .

Pat paid no heed. Her kid called me on the weekend,calling me “auntie” and attempted to coax me by saying “Mom says you invited me to spend SUMMER with you”. I quickly clarified, and offered an explanation to avoid hurting a kid’s self esteem. Nevermind. Her daughter just hung up on me.

Pat’s facebook also showed some red flags. Some cryptic rants here and there were visible, along with friends’ comments and complaints on how she asked a particular person to watch her kids only for a couple of hours and ended up leaving them all day. Another of her friends criticized her “girls night out “ because Pat had just asked them to be patient and wait until she could pay back some money that she owed them, yet she had money to spend on Friday night outings. I thought those very public comments on private matters were more like a cry of lost patience.

Unpleasant things began to happen. Like the time she volunteered to wrap the Xmas presents for underprivileged kids. We all wanted to create a mix of less costly gifts with really nice ones. Surprisingly, some nice and eye-catching toys and games went missing but turned up under her Christmas Tree (courtesy of her mother in law’s FB posts). No one could prove anything but it was hate-inducing. Or the time my daughter called me in tears to pick her up after she attended Pat’s daughter’s birthday (Casey). My daughter had been ignored all night because she didn’t gift her the expensive gaming stuff Casey practically demanded. My daughter did ask, but I said no. We would buy her a very nice and thoughtful present according to her taste. So when I went to pick her up my daughter was sitting alone in the living room while Casey and her friends stayed outside.

Stories about Pat and her family multiplied. The owners at the farm (community center) decided keep their their gates locked unless they had guests or events because Pat got in the habit of driving in whenever she pleased and it was either her kids screaming and disturbing on-going weddings, throwing rocks at the koi in the lake or harassing the geese in the yard. Or how she stiffed another soccer mom with the lunch bill and then pulled the struggling financially card. Or how other parents hated her because she created unnecessary hostile competition.

When my daughter turned 13, I allowed her to wear my grandma’s ring. It's not an expensive piece of jewelry, but it's vintage and girls nowadays wanna look boho. My Granny gave it to me when I became a teenager so I passed it on to my kid so she could wear it on her birthweek.

It was weird that she became quiet and distracted after that. She also didn’t want to go to school and my husband and I became suspicious. She never opened up, and my other kids had no clue.

We went to her school but her teachers assured us nothing had changed in her environment. My husband and I suspected she was being bullied but our kid gave us no tools to support her. My kid is very sunny, and very compassionate. She has never had any problems with other kids. I called her best friend’s mom. Natalie, my kid’s BFF, told us what was going on. Casey (Pat’s eldest) and my daughter had become “close”. I knew this and wasn’t too thrilled. I found the age (Casey was 17) gap not exactly inappropriate but I’d rather see my daughter spend time with friends in the same age range. Casey is very beautiful and a gifted student. She is also very conceited. To make this story short, she asked my daughter if she could try on the ring and refused to give it back. She later claimed that she lost it but “would look for it” so my daughter was distraught. My daughter kept asking for her ring and as a result, Casey shunned her and spread the word that my kid was trying to steal HER ring. Some kids at school took Casey’s side. So now Casey just wore my kid’s jewelry to school like nothing happened. If that doesn’t qualify as taunting I don't know what does.

My guilt comes from not being able to get my daughter to open up and feel safe telling me the truth. I talked to her and she burst into tears. I was both pained as a mother and furious that some teenage b!tch was doing this under our noses.

I went straight to Pat’s car after school. I asked to talk as Casey was about to go in. So I grabbed Casey’s hand and asked to see her jewelry. Casey froze and she tried to make a fist, so I became relentless. Casey yelled “Mom!” and Pat struggled to get out of the car. I slid the ring off (Casey has tiny hands and wore the ring on her index finger). First Pat yelled at me. After I confronted her with the engraving on the band (my grandma's maiden name), she argued it was loaned to her daughter by my kid. Then she said she bought it. I paid no heed. I did warn them that I knew Casey had become an abusive friend to my daughter.

Pat called me to tell me off. She said she was trying to raise an assertive young woman and I had just messed that up by being “overbearing”. She never apologized for her thief of a child.

Pat's husband ( Hank) is what can be described as a doormat. Pat wore him down to a knob. He had no choice but to “obey” her to keep the peace. She was a bully who actively withdrew affection when he didn’t follow her wishes, even in public. So she got kids #4 and #5 after a relentless campaign that included leaving him for two months. Her pregnancies were a nuisance because she expected to be treated like the only lady who has even been pregnant. She strolled around in a wheelchair almost immediately after getting pregnant and she would “get very sick” on weekends, so her kids were often sent to friends and family so that she could “rest”.

Pat systematically bullied Hank. She would leave town and take the kids with her. Poor Hank would look distraught, drinking on his porch or just looking really lonely. This is how she got off the hook and was able to leave her job. Hank had virtually no voice, so he struggled to keep the marriage together. Everyone liked him, but hated her equally. Hank loved to talk to other people but seemed concerned that Pat would be upset. Over time, according to my husband, Hank began to show signs of depression and mental distress.

Our friend, Lenah, runs the wedding/prom dress initiative. It's not complicated. Dresses are sourced from donations, ebay, trunk shows, etc. Unusually beautiful dresses are retained so that more than one bride gets to wear them. In some cases, a bride will pay 50 bucks, but most of the time, the dresses are donated to the bride.

Pat was involved in this. Lenah kept her in because they never had any issues and her task was limited to just shipping the dresses out.

Pat decided to renew her vows and her bridezilla Karenzilla attitude became the icing on the cake. For starters, she bullied another couple into giving up their wedding date at the farm because she “needed her renewal to match her exact wedding date”. They were not impressed with her harassment, so they booked another venue. As a result, the farm owners were pissed because Pat was already costing them money after she had successfully negotiated a cut in their rate “because she couldn't afford it but will repay by doing maintenance work around the venue” (she never made good on her word).

Pat became attached to a particular dress that was already assigned to another bride. Lenah made it clear that she would need to pay for her own dress. So Pat played it cool and shipped the wrong gown instead. She was adamant that it was the right dress, despite all the notes on Leah’s agenda. The other bride was truly gracious about it. She was obviously disappointed, but never made a scene.

What bothered me most is that I picked that dress and bought it for 40 bucks at a garage sale (not my money, Leah’s money). It was a vintage dress, ankle length, white with lots of lace and a huge bargain. Again, when confronted, Pat “did a Casey” and used the “this is mine” strategy. We felt so bad for the other bride that we did our best to get her something nice to wear. The other bride was a true fighter, she had pulled out of welfare, earned her high school diploma and was working to get on her feet by trying to earn a certificate as an acrylic nail technician. So, her reward was to have some Karen steal her dress? Pat never admitted to messing up, but just by the fact that she claimed it was her dress, we knew.

Lenah never allowed her in her warehouse again. Their last phone fight ended with Pat bringing up the other bride’s past (like it mattered) and “this conversation is over, it's my dress and you are mistaken”. That was weeks before the other bride’s wedding.

Pat went all out on her wedding decor. She spent way too much. She hired a caterer for some food (mainly mimosas and appetizers), but the wedding invitation included a request for specific dishes for her Sunday brunch wedding. Either she ran out of banquet money or was on a complete moocher mode.I picture the penguin walking upon practically asking everyone to supply her wedding reception grub and I cringe.

There is nothing wrong with potluck weddings. In fact, they can be a nice addition to a very cozy and family oriented wedding reception. But, don’t you need to at least be close to your guests in order to ask for such a thing? Even I got an invitation. I told everyone I wasn’t going because I was very uncomfortable being told what to bring and was probably expected to give them a cash gift on top of that. Some of the older ladies in our group agreed. Some said they would not decline in advance because she is a bully and they didn’t want a confrontation.

Lenah called me the night before Pat’s re-wedding. Lenah was there to close the Saturday night bingo and Pat was awfully friendly, but that’s what she does whenever things are going her way. Lenah peeked into the garment bag and saw the exact same dress while Pat was caught up supervising the wedding decoration.

The thing with Karens is that they expect everyone to suck it up, or make their dreams come true, or they simply underestimate everyone and think we are all fools.

Lenah is a very straightforward person with a “so sue me” attitude. She told me she would just ruin the dress. After all, it was hers, so she could do whatever she wanted. If Pat wanted to take legal action, and should things get ugly, she needed to prove ownership. However, the dress was the same, the marks inside the hem and the tags were the same. Even the tag numbers that were punched to identify each dress for logistics purposes matched.

Pat had the dress altered, with some extra beading and dyed to a deep cream color. But it was obviously the same garment. Lenah and I snuck in before the venue was closed for the night. All brides are allowed to stay in a small bedroom for a small charge, so that they don’t need to drive in on their wedding day. Honestly, the makeshift chapel was gorgeous, I don’t know how she paid for it but it was full of flowers and presumptuous details. I naively brought in some ink to spill on the dress, but Lenah said she wanted “something more awful, like a nasty surprise”. Ink would be too obvious and if she saw it ahead, she may be able to snag another gown from somewhere. No, the ideal thing was to have her trust the dress was fine. So Lenah locked herself in a bathroom stall and completely cut out the back panel. She patiently put it back on its hanger and zipped the bag. We left through the emergency door with the back of the dress stuffed inside Lenah's purse. I completely hate people who target and steal from anyone they (Pat and her kid) calculate to be in a weaker position.

The wedding was scheduled at 9 AM. Pat called me at 7 AM, but I ignored her calls. I picked up by 8 AM, both curious and wondering if she suspected anything. Pat was frantic.She was crying that her dress was “missing by half”. I purposely made her explain, being annoyingly dense and continually interrupting like she does, and stalling the conversation. She asked me if I could lend her my wedding dress. I said no, sorry. She then asked me if I would help her get a dress. I was satisfied to remind her that the town's bridal shops were closed on Sunday and the others that would open were almost an hour away. The farm is already almost one hour away from our town.

If Pat could get a shop to rent a dress, she would need to try the dress on, and get it steamed. Even if the dress was ready to wear, it would easily take more than two hours (roundtrip). She tried to ask me to go pick a dress (who would pay for this??). Even if a shop were open and brought her a dress, it would add to the cost. Also, these shops open at 10 or 9:30 at earliest. By time they got to her, it would be time to wrap up the wedding because she needed to clear the venue by 12:00 for the next event.

She broke down and mumbled some stupid stuff I didn't understand. So Pat hung up on me and called Lenah instead.. She asked Lenah to bring her “anything she had available”. Lenah and I ended up delivering the most outdated, moss smelling, oversized dressed. Pat’s disappointment was a mix between angry and emotional. She also tried to wear her knee length silk bridal slip as a wedding dress but it was too obvious and it really looked cheap. She tried to get her daughter to give her her own dress to wear with an open back zipper (due to fitting issues) but Casey refused, asking if she was supposed to attend the wedding naked (she got a point, plus Casey is petite).

The dress needed a petticoat to plump up the skirt, which wasn’t available. So it dragged all over the floor and Pat had to keep pulling it up. Pat walked down the aisle with one hand on her bouquet and another one grabbing her dress. The dress looked limp and weird with the arrangements of pins (they didn’t show) that caused the sleeves and neckline to pucker into messy rims. She spent the ceremony looking uncomfortable and out of place. Very few people attended but that was not part of any revenge, that was just how people reacted to her entitled attitude.

The dress looked awful. The reception portion of the wedding had all this princely decoration, a very nice cake and a bridezilla with a dress from hell. I didn’t stay, but I was told, she was so disappointed she spent her wedding sulking. There was no dance, no actual speech. She had to change into a shirt and leggings because the dress was too uncomfortable. Everyone talked about how Pat put on her flip flops and walked around aimlessly until she ordered the ushers to start folding up the chairs within one hour of the reception. So she practically kicked everyone out and the cake was never cut.

Pat wasn’t the same after this.She was not as loud and avoided everyone. I think she was disappointed that nobody ran to her rescue, not even her family who came from out of town.

Her husband finally cracked under all the pressure and sought some help. He was slaving away and coming home to clean the house while Pat used her kids as an excuse to spend like crazy. Hank also had to do kid homework because Pat never had time or never had patience. She also refused to get a partime job so her kids could attend an afterschool and get help with their school stuff. Therapy seemed to help Hank because the last time Pat left with her kids, he didn't seem distraught. He would be riding his bicycle and could be seen more relaxed while mowing his lawn. Hank told my husband that he had contemplated suicide after their third kid. When Pat returned, he maintained the routine but was interested in going out by himself and doing things for himself. We began to see Pat alone all the time. Hank was seen less and less in the same car and eventually moved in with his parents. He filed for divorce on the grounds of emotional cruelty and I don't think he won. Instead (I’m not sure of this because this is what I was told) there was some sort of a settlement or agreement that she would not get close or interact with him unless it has to do with the kids).

I also don’t know if Pat even actually suspected who/what happened to her dress. She slowly pulled away from the community center and became less active in social gatherings. Pat also removed me from her facebook as well as mostly everyone else from school and the center.

TLDR

Bridezilla stole a wedding dress from an underprivileged woman. The actual dress owner destroys her big day.

(source) story by (/u/forestcabin123k)

[my-personal-multiverse]

Since I have decided that this is now a Buffy blog I'm going to put thoughts I've had over the past few months on here. It's all stuff I either wrote when talking to friends or arguing on the subreddit. First have some vampire lore and philosophy thoughts.

"I think the statement of "the person a vampire was is completely gone replaced by a Demon who wears their body" doesn't really hold up with anything we see on the show. Although it's probably good to believe that as a vampire slayer because otherwise most of what Buffy does would be in a morally gray area. I also personally believe that the watchers council deliberately gives watchers and slayers that wrong information (the dialog that says so in the beginning is mostly Buffy and Giles I think. Vampires aren't framing their own experience that way) so that they don't think about the potential moral implications of, for example, killing a vamp that was just turned and hasn't killed anyone yet. The way it makes sense to me is that two things happen when you get turned 1. You loose your soul 2. Some demonic energy/presence/thing enters you and becomes a part of your body through the demonic blood. Loosing the soul I see as essentially loosing an inherent sense of Morality and guilt and loosing (most) empathy. Neither of those makes you inherently evil and there's also the philosophical question of if you can even be inherently evil or if evil is something that you have to do. But you are obviously very likely to end up doing evil things to get what you want if you don't see hurting people as wrong and can't empathize with anyone. And without a sense of Morality you won't want to do anything good unless it also serves you and you will go after more simple pleasures without a care for anyone. But not feeling empathy or having morals doesn't mean you don't have emotions yourself. You will still feel good or bad and you can still fall in love. We don't seem to question that vampires can feel hate and anger without a soul and love is essentially just another emotion. Of course there's the question of how love expresses itself if you can't empathize with who you love. If you try to cheer them up when they are sad it can't be because you feel their pain... Do you look at them more like you'd look at a broken toy that can't give you what you want anymore and try to cheer them up because of that. Is that love or just an intense desire to be with someone because of how they make you feel. Does it matter as long as you are doing the right thing? Do I need to feel someone's pain to want them to be happy? I think there's a lot of interesting questions there but just saying no soul = no love is a bit too reductive for me. (I also personally feel like soulless spike does feel some empathy for people he loves just not for anyone else but that's debatable). For the second thing I think the demonic energy/thing/whatever is what keeps their bodies going, gives them the bloodlust / need for blood to survive and the problems with the sun and all that other fun vampire stuff. But I don't think it is a different entity/identity with a personality of their own taking over and replacing the person. The reason why vampires go evil even if the person they are wasn't before is just that the loss of the soul (Morality/guilt/empathy) coupled with the new bloodlust and being hard to kill by humans thus not having to fear consequences will lead them to murder pretty quickly. But what we see of people before and after they were turned it's always the same people just without a moral compass now going after whatever they want without a care. And one thing they want now is blood but they also still have the desires they did before. Their desires and personality and memories and such is the same. I think that that mind/spirit/whatever is what makes someone who they are. I think that another being with all my memories, wants, feelings and needs would be me. But I know that philosophically you could make an argument that loosing your sense of right and wrong and empathy is enough of a difference to make you a different person. I'd personally say they are a different person in the same way that I'm a different person to who I was five years ago. The person I was then is gone not because some other entity took over my body but because I changed. And being turned is a pretty big change to go through. Even humans sometimes change from one day to the next for example when they go through trauma but you wouldn't necessarily say that they died and some other person took over. In some ways who I was 5 years ago is dead and that person will never be around again. But that's not how we frame things for humans because we have a continuous sense of self and vampires on Buffy have that too. But I'm going to try to get away from the purely philosophical arguments and into the actual show canon. First of all there is the situation where a different demonic presence actually does take over someone's body, retains memories but completely eviscerates the person and becomes a completely new character... on angel with illyria. And it's very obviously a completely different situation to what we see happen with vampires. She might know who Fred was but she has different wants and a different personality and acts according to that. With vampires that's not what happens. Spike is the most obvious example. The first thing he does after being turned is try to save his mother. He cared for her before and he still does. And if he was just a Demon in a William suit he would have no reason to even call her his mother. Turning her is not a moral choice ( I don't think turning someone into a vampire can be unless they ask for it because if they don't you are essentially making choices about their body without their consent) and it's not (necessarily) because of empathy. It's just that his mother was someone he always liked to be around and he wants to keep her around.  and spike was always motivated by his romantic obsessions and that informed everything he did after being turned too. Then we have dru who was driven mad pre being turned and stays mad as a vampire. And we have Darla who on angel when she gets brought back as a human with a soul doesn't act like "I finally have my body back" or "what happened, I was dead and have no memory of it". She's like "I was a vampire, that was me, I did that" and she doesn't just have a soul. She's a human with a soul again. But as a character she's a continuation of Darla the vampire. And we have dark willow and vampire willow both using the same phrase ("bored now") which to me shows that regardless of how willow turns evil its a continuation of her character and vamp willow isn't just a random Demon that looks like willow. In the same episode we also have angel basically saying the same thing. When Buffy tries to console willow by saying that a vampires personality is not related to the person they were Angel starts saying "well actually..." then seems to realize correcting her wouldn't help the situation and switches to "good point". And then obviously we have Harmony. Who is most obviously the same person, who still has a lot of the same wants that are not related to being a vampire ( status, money, a comfortable life, a boyfriend) and who stops drinking human blood ( in season 5 of angel) not because she had a problem with killing humans but just because it didn't serve her and it was easier for her to live the life she wanted while playing by the rules. She's clearly soulless but is probably the most interesting example if you want to argue about inherent evil vs. evil actions and "does it matter why someone is doing the right thing?". The one that feels like an outlier is angel but I think even he makes sense. If you look at Liam and Angelus I do see a continuation of character. He wanted to have fun, he already didn't really care much for others and I would argue based on what he does once he looses his empathy he probably already had some desire to hurt others. He just wouldn't have ever actually acted on it when he had his soul. Being turned unleashed the worst parts of him, living out dark desires he otherwise probably would have taken to his grave and the reason he changes so drastically as a character once he gets his soul back is because of the immense guilt of knowing that everything he did was exactly what he wanted. And with a conscience he doesn't want to want those things and won't indulge in those desires to torture and harm. Because all vampires kill and don't feel bad about causing harm to get what they want but Angelus does take things a step further and I think that's based in his own desires. ( A human moral equivalent for me would be the difference between hunting animals to eat and torturing puppies for fun ) And knowing where those desires can lead him makes him work on distancing himself as much as possible from who he was once he gets his soul back which is how he becomes such a different person.

[sepublic]

Bessie & MicroAngelo!

           THEY KILLED THE KING OF DEMONS AAAGGGGHHHH-

           In all seriousness, that King cameo is GREAT, and especially in reference to magic as well! Too bad magic just isn’t Anne’s thing, alas… And honestly, I think King would lowkey be flattered to be paid tribute like this; Or high-key, he’s not one for subtlety! But let me tell you, Bernardo was serving LOOKS here; Even if they didn’t fit her, that last suit of golden beetle armor was just… SSSOOOO GOOOD! I know I keep saying it, but Amphibia really manages to land its armor design, it rubs just about everything I love, it’s sleek and ornate… First the Newt guards, and now Anne’s armor! Satisfyingly, it’s from THAT armor that Anne chooses her simple cuirass… But again, that armor is a LOOK, it gives me pure serotonin just looking at, it’s just so COOL and hits all the right spots, the perfect balance between what I like- It’s just GOOD! It just hits right, there’s a certain Je ne sais quoi to it, a distinct style and fashionable, yet sleek and slender and functional, design to it!

           Whoever designs armor and in general outfits for Amphibia, I want to shake your hand…! And I guess Bernardo’s, in-universe and all. He might seem a bit snobby, but he respects and appreciates Anne’s minimalist approach, so I must respect HIM for that as well!

           Oh yeah, we’ve also got Bessie and MicroAngelo… Admittedly, this thread kind of took a backseat for Anne’s fashion show and character development, but I still enjoyed it! I love how droopy Bessie’s design is, and I like that MicroAngelo isn’t just some one-off character for a gag, who inexplicably disappears; Things DO change, the status quo is upended, and the family is growing even bigger! Seeing Anne’s photo tacked onto Bessie’s family photo made my heart melt, and then the MicroAngelo drawing too…!

           Anne wanting to stick to her normal design says a lot about her character, applies to it in very meta ways, etc. She’s the simple, humble one- The one with ties back home, while Marcy and Sasha seem the ones most likely to stay in Amphibia for their own reasons… Marcy for escapism, Sasha for power; And both don’t really show anything else to go back home to! Obviously we don’t get the chance because there’s not as much focus to suggest family… But everything about Sasha screams a toxic family, and Marcy admits to being more or less alone back on earth.

           Anne is the one who remembers her past and cultural ties, she’s got that ‘human’ connection, moreso than her other human friends. And, I love the commentary on her learning to appreciate herself, now that she’s accepted her own faults and mistakes, taking accountability for them as a part of who she is; But still finding hope in herself, that kind of beauty… But also, that makeover montage and the IMPLICATIONS of it was great, and hilarious! However, I do have to wonder if like, the makeovers by Sasha and Marcy are also lowkey symbolic of them having some control over Anne, putting her into a role for their sake… Anne as Marcy’s protector, and as Sasha’s best friend…

           It’s neat to see her acknowledge her lack of clothing change compared to the rest, but how Anne still owns up to it! And yeah, she can wear armor, not just for practicality, but I think because she no longer has to worry about who she is, Anne recognizes that part of herself, so she can freely experiment and play around with it a bit more, while still clearly staying true to herself. I like Anne, it seems she’s always had self-image issues, felt like there was something wrong with herself, that she needed to change and be a chameleon for the sake of others…

           But, she’s begun to learn to be herself more; She learned to acknowledge the good… And with Valeriana’s help, Anne ALSO acknowledged the bad and ugly parts of her as well! She’s fully seen and recognized the entirety of herself, her true self… And this of course means self-acceptance! And small detail, but I love Anne being able to engage in self-reflection through Frobo, it’s adorable and neat how he’s more part of the family and helping Anne with this kind of soul-searching, I like it!

           I like Anne learning to come to terms with herself and accept that, so she can change and improve; And I have to wonder if that contrasts to Marcy and Sasha, who both play roles, perhaps in the wish that they could be someone they’re not… Marcy wanting to be cool and charming, Sasha wanting to be powerful and in control? Anne doesn’t play pretend, she knows who she is, she has the Courage to recognize that. She faced her greatest and most terrifying opponent, herself- Something the others haven’t done so yet, and fitting, for the bravest of the trio! Anne knows who she is and so even if she does add to herself and change, she still clearly retains that connection and memory to her old self, as guidance and consideration for where she came from…

           All in all, a fascinating episode! On the surface just cute hjinx for side-characters, but dig a bit deeper to the TRUE appearance, like Anne, and you get to see the culmination of Anne’s development across two-thirds of the entire show, more or less! I like this talk of self-image and acceptance, and I think it’s neat, especially with how Matt Braly mentioned taking inspiration from his own grandmother’s hair, and how this kind of big, poofy hair in Asians is not something you see a lot! You go, Anne, you go; You’re your OWN F-Anne now, your biggest one, and not even a toxic fan, either! You see and accept and engage healthily with yourself, recognize the flaws, and work with them… Good for you!

[izzielizzie]

Now I’ve Seen You I’ve Seen It All Chapter One

okay so this ask inspired me so am i writing a ten chapter nateywn parent trap au? yes. Is the first chapter under the cut? also yes 

“Okay honey,” Bronwyn Rojas says as she puts her hands on her daughter Ellen’s shoulders. “You’ve got everything you need right?”

Ellen nods.

“Toothbrush?”

Ellen nods again.

“All your clothes? Shampoo? Hair brush? Retainers?” 

Ellen nods again, four times, and wiggles a little in her mother’s grip. Twelve year old Ellen Rojas has never spent more than a week out of her mother’s sights, and this two month camp is testing both of them.

Bronwyn looks like she’s about to cry. “Are you sure you don’t want me to look over your things one more time?”

Ellen sighs and considers the best way to tell her mother it is time for her to leave. Thankfully she doesn’t have to. A slender woman with dark hair and expressive amber eyes practically materializes in front of Ellen and Bronwyn. Maeve Santos.

Maeve, with her messy bun, face full of freckles, tattered Hodges Camp t-shirt, and denim shorts, looks absolutely nothing like her older sister Bronwyn. Until further examination. They carry themselves the same way, like they belong anywhere they happen to be, and their smiles are the same. It’s hard to tell since Bronwyn’s face is all lines and hardness, and Maeve’s is soft and open. But the smiles, well, they’re identical.

“Hey Bron,” Maeve says. She pulls her sister into a hug, taking care not to wrinkle Bronwyn’s suit. Bronwyn pats her sister’s back, her way of saying “okay enough hugging”. Maeve pulls away with a grin, and swings Ellen up into her arms. Maeve - and her husband Luis - don’t have any kids, so all their attention is directed to Ellen and their nephews on Luis’s side. But mostly Ellen. Ellen hugs her back with all her might.

“Hi Aunt Maeve,” Ellen says.

“Hey Ellen, ready for some fun!”

Ellen giggles and looks around the camp over her aunt’s shoulder. It’s a large camp, with seven cabins for campers: three for girls on one side of the path and three for boys on the other. The seventh can be seen peeking over the trees where the forest meets the large lake (Lake Hodges, where Aunt Maeve got the name for the camp). There’s a large center cabin, fittingly named the Big Cabin meals are served, the counselors congregate during off times, and one room is used as a games room, where Ellen knows air hockey tables and pool tables and foosball tables have been set up. Farther along the path is the arts and crafts cabin, then the nurse’s cabin. The grand finale before the dock and boat house is a large amphitheatre, where plays and concerts are held. 

Ellen’s never really seen the camp, not really, but she’s heard enough about it from her Aunt Maeve - the founder/head - to feel as if she’s greeting an old friend, the musky smells and bird chirps as familiar to Ellen as the brick buildings and sound of honking cars in New Haven is.

“More than ready,” Ellen assures her aunt. Maeve grins at her. 

“That’s my girl - whoa be careful!”

The last warning isn’t for Ellen, but for the person who swings Ellen high up into the air out of her aunt’s arms. She doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Uncle Luis. Ellen turns the moment she’s on solid ground to give her uncle a hug. Bronwyn often compares Luis to a puppy: energetic, over joyous, and incredibly good at snuggling. She’s not wrong.

“Hey Bronwyn,” Luis says, hugging his sister in law. He doesn’t mind her suit. Bronwyn hugs him back for a moment before readjusting her jacket and looking around helplessly. 

“Are we sure this is a good idea? Maybe Ellen’s too young.”

“Mom, you said I could come when I turned twelve,” Ellen protests, trying very hard not to stomp her foot. It wouldn’t be proving her point.

“I know but-” Bronwyn waves her arms around. 

“We’re here, don't forget,” Maeve says.

“No offence Maeve but you left Ellen in a parking lot.” 

Maeve’s smile becomes a little strained. “That was ten years ago.”

“Still!”

Maeve sighs. “Cooper and Kris are here. Who’s more responsible than Cooper and Kris?”

This seems to calm Ellen’s mom. “Okay, okay, you’re right. That’s true. Alright then, Ellen darling, I think it’s time for me to go.”

If Maeve is hurt that Bronwyn trusts Cooper and Kris Becker-Clay more than her own sister, she doesn’t show it. She looks over Bronwyn’s shoulder as if looking for something. “Okay Bron you’ve got a plane to catch right?”

“Right, right okay.” Bronwyn reaches forward and pulls Ellen out of Luis’s arms, squeezing her tight. “Be good okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay. I will.” Ellen hugs her mother back until Maeve gently disentangles them. With a last kiss on Maeve’s cheek and on Ellen’s forehead, Bronwyn heads back over to her car, pulling away with a wave for the family she knows is watching. 

“Well Ellen darling, excited for camp?” Maeve asks as she takes Ellen’s hand, picking up her oversized duffle with the other hand, which she expertly tosses to her husband. He catches it. Ellen loves watching her aunt and uncle work together, since it’s always been her and her mother. Ellen’s never seen two adults who just fit. 

The trio don’t get far before a motorcycle comes roaring up the drive. They all turn to see what’s happening as a girl expertly jumps off the back of the motorcycle. She’s wearing white shorts and a black leather motorcycle jacket that matches the jacket of the man on the motorcycle. The girl pulls off her helmet to reveal long black hair. 

Maeve grins. “You two stay here, I’ll be right back.” Maeve scurries away to the biker before Luis and Ellen can follow. 

“What’s happening Uncle Luis?” Ellen asks, sliding her hand into her uncle’s hand. 

“No clue kiddo,” Luis answers, but based on the look on his face, he does indeed know. 

They watch as Maeve talks to the man on the motorcycle. Ellen’s too far away to see who he is, and before she can get a closer look he’s waving at the girl and backing down the path to the main road. Maeve and the girl are standing together. They watch the motorcycle until it’s out of sight. Maeve takes the girl’s hand, and the way she’s looking at her sends a flash of white hot jealousy through Ellen. That’s the way Maeve looks at her.

Maeve smiles when they approach Luis and Ellen. “Ali, this is my husband Luis.”

“Hey Ali,” Luis says.

“And this is my niece Ellen Rojas. Ellen, this is Ali Macauley.” 

What a stupid name Ellen almost says. Instead she just grunts. She’s not quite sure why, but she doesn’t like this girl in her Guinness band t-shirt and tattered shorts and red flip flops that - ugh - look a lot like Ellen’s. Ali’s glaring right back at Ellen. Clearly, she doesn’t like her either. 

“Wow, you guys look nearly identical,” Luis says as he looks between his niece and the newcomer with her oversized backpack.

“No we don’t,” Ali says dryly.

“Oh I agree,” Ellen says. “I would never wear a shirt advertising that tacky band.”

“Ellen,” Maeve says in her warning voice.

“At least I don’t dress like the next queen of England.”

Ellen huffs and looks down at her pressed skirt and matching jacket. Her mother picked it for her.

“Oh you wish you were the queen of En-”

“Okay how about cabin assignments!” Maeve says brightly. Ali looks up at Maeve like she’s the queen, and Ellen’s ready to sock her in the nose. 

Maeve looks down at her clipboard as if she can sense Ellen’s thoughts. “You’re both in cabin one. Fun!”

“No it’s not,” Ali mumbles. 

Maeve ignores her and takes her hand instead. “Okay, let’s get you to your cabin.” Maeve takes Ellen’s hand after tucking her clipboard under her arm, and kisses her husband’s cheek before setting off, chatting about the camp as she goes. 

“You’ve met Luis of course, he’s a chef in New York and he’s in charge of cooking and also outdoor activities like hikes and stuff like that. And our head of arts and crafts is Addy Prentiss, she’s a teacher and she and her wife Keely live in London, where Keely is a fashion designer or something like that I never understand. Cooper Becker-Clay - you probably know him from the Padres - he’s in charge of sports. His husband Kris is our onsite medic.” Maeve pauses to push open the cabin door. “And Knox Myers does all the theatre and music stuff - he’s a Broadway director. Phoebe Myers, his wife, is our counselor. Need anything, go to her.”

Ellen knows all of this, since the people Aunt Maeve is talking about have been in Ellen’s life since she was a baby, so this is clearly for Ali. This annoys Ellen more, since she wanted to tell Aunt Maeve about the boy she thought she was in love with who turned out to not be in love with her. Aunt Maeve is the kind of aunt who understands about confusing things like the heart. 

“Okay girls. Looks like you’re the first in here. Pick a bunk.”

“Top,” Ali says right as Ellen says the same thing. Both girls look at each other in surprise and scramble for the ladder. 

“Whoa, whoa, girls slow down!” Maeve calls as both girls try to climb up the ladder at the same time. Ali beats Ellen, who’s slowed by the skirt. Ali’s long hair gets in her way, so Ellen uses that chance to climb up the side of the ladder like she does on the fire escape of her building. She’s nearly at the top when she feels hands clamp around her waist and pull her off. 

“Aunt Maeve!” Ellen protests as she’s placed on solid ground. She watches as Maeve pulls Ali off the ladder too. 

“Don’t ‘Aunt Maeve’ me. Honestly what’s gotten into you two?”

“It’s her fault,” Ali says stubbornly, pointing at Ellen. 

“She’s the one who cheated!”

“How did I cheat Ellen?”

“You’re not wearing a skirt.”

Ali scoffs. 

“Both of you two stop it right now. Ali, you take that bunk -”

“Hey!” Ellen protests as Ali does a little happy hop.

“And Ellen, you take the one on the other wall.”

Ellen is in shock. Aunt Maeve has never ever chosen someone over her. Not even the time her cousin Matias wanted the last ice cream at his own birthday party and Maeve talked circles around him until he was so confused he forgot about the dessert. 

“Fine,” Ellen sighs as she crosses the wooden cabin to the bunk identical to the one Ali is triumphantly perched on.

“Good. Now let’s hope you two get along better in the morning.”

Unfortunately, that does not happen. 

The next morning, Ellen enters the Big Cabin with Aunt Maeve and Uncle Luis’s latest foster child, named Nick. Ellen and Nick get along fabulously, something that pleases her aunt and uncle to no end. Ali stalks in after her. Ellen noticed last night that Ali prefers to be alone. She refused to join in on the game of go fish their cabin mates were playing, and she ignored all talk about the cute boys at the camp and past crushes.

“I’m telling you Nick, she’s so stuck up. Like she’s too good for us or something,” Ellen says, continuing her conversation even though Ali is right behind her. 

“Maybe she’s just shy,” Nick says. Even though he has no blood relation to any of Ellen’s family members he still looks vaguely like Luis with his good looks and deep brown eyes.

Ellen scoffs. “She wasn’t shy when she stole my aunt.”

“Maeve isn’t stolen.”

“Right,” Ellen says skeptically as she hands Nick a tray. They’re entering the food line, and she graciously lets Nick before her. She ends up next to Ali, who’s glaring at Ellen. “Good morning sunshine,'' Ellen says pleasantly.

Ali glares harder as she takes a tray from the pile.

“Not a morning person huh?” Ellen asks.

“Say another word and I’ll knock your teeth out,” Ali threatens.

“Scary,” Ellen says dryly as they head down the line. She hesitates in front of the last pancake, weighing the pros and cons of grabbing it when Ali speaks up.

“Are you gonna stand there or are you gonna grab that?” She’s already reaching for the pancake in question.

“I was going to grab it,” Ellen lies, stabbing it with a fork as Ali does the same thing. They engage in a sort of food based tug-of-war. “Let go!”

“You let go!”

“I saw it first!”

“You were just mouth breathing on it!”

They both tug hard, and the pancakes crumble into two pieces. The momentum sends them flying. Ali crashes to the floor and Ellen stumbles back into Nick, who steadies her. 

“What kind of loser can’t keep their balance?” Ellen asks.

“Ellen, stop,” Luis says emerging from the kitchen. He’s looking half amused and half annoyed. “Ali, you okay?”

“Fine,” Ali snaps. “But your niece is annoying.”

Luis ignores her, and Nick gently tugs Ellen away.

Ellen sulks all the way to the crafts barn, where Addy Prentiss in all her pink haired glory is perched on a table in a pair of faded denim overalls. She hops off the table when the group arrives. 

“Alright guys, I thought we could start with bracelets today,” Addy says with her slight British accent, winking at Ellen, who glows. “So, find a table y’all, and let’s see what bracelets you come up with!”

Addy circles the room, and Ellen chooses a table with Cosette Myers, Nick, and - ugh - Ali. Ali pointedly ignores her, and Ellen choses to do the same, chatting with Cosette about the last musical her father Knox took her to. Ellen reaches for a bead at the same time as Ali, and their hands collide.

“Can you move?” Ali asks.

“You move!” Ellen protests.

“I just want a bead.”

“Then wait.”

“Why don’t you wait, princess?”

“Because I was first.”

Both girls glare at each other for a moment before reaching for the beads again, knocking into the container and sending the beads flying over the table and floor. Cosette and Nick jump back. Addy choses this moment to approach this table.

“Are you two kidding me?” she asks, irritated.

“It's Ellen's fault!”

“It was not Aunt Addy, it was Ali!”

Addy looks between the identical looking girls and huffs. “Pick them up.”

“What?” Ellen asks.

“El, you heard me.”

Ellen glares halfheartedly at Ali as she sinks to the floor to pick up the scattered pea sized beads.

Cosette and Nick slide to the floor to help as Ali starts on her side of the table.

“She’s a monster,” Ellen hisses. Cosette and Nick exchange glances.

Twenty minutes later, the girls find themselves near the lake, lined up next to Cooper Becker-Clay, who’s teaching the finer details of the ever important sport of wiffle ball. 

“Okay guys,” he says, pulling off his baseball hat and running his hand through his sandy hair. “I need some volunteers please.” His blue eyes roves the crowd of excitable preteens and lands on Ellen and Ali, who are both glaring at each other while pretending the other person doesn’t exist.

“Ellen. Ali. What about you two?”

Ellen shrugs, and Ali scoffs. “You’re choosing the person who wears skirts?”

“But she’s… not wearing a skirt,” Cooper says, looking a little confused. It’s true, Ellen is wearing a camp shirt tucked into a pair of shorts. 

“Ignore her, she’s being weird,” Ellen says, stepping forward. Ali glares. Cooper shakes his head as if straightening out his thoughts.

“Okay. Ali, take the bat and stand on the base. Just like that, yeah. And Ellen, come here. Okay guys pay attention. Ellen’s going to put her left foot forward since that’s her non-dominant side, and she’ll pull her right arm back and yeah - no Ellen wait!”

Ellen, after being raised with both Uncle Luis and Uncle Cooper, knows exactly how to aim a perfect fastball. And, being her mother’s daughter, she’s able to figure out how to compensate for the lighter ball - flicking her wrist just so - until her pitch is perfectly aimed straight for Ali’s nose. Ali, who isn’t expecting this, doesn’t swing and instead stands still as the ball comes flying towards her nose with a sickening crack. 

And, being Addy’s goddaughter, Ellen knows how to act too. “Oh my gosh Ali I’m so sorry,” she cries, sounding incredibly believable as she sprints after Cooper towards Ali, who’s got her hand pressed against her nose. “Uncle Cooper, really, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.”

Cooper looks between Ali, Ellen, and the other campers who look gleeful - they were expecting to make friendship bracelets and sing weird songs at camp, not see the greatest feud of their adolescent lives. 

“It’s fine El. Take Ali to Uncle Kris okay?”

“Okay, oh my gosh I feel so bad.”

Cooper, of course, being both not an idiot and the father of triplet girls, knows Ellen isn’t sorry in the slightest, but he lets her lead Ali to Kris’s med cabin. 

Once at the cabin, Ellen considers leaving Ali when Kris calls her in. 

“Hey Uncle Kris,” Ellen says as Kris lifts Ali onto a bed in the cabin lined with beds. Kris raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, his green eyes roving over Ellen’s face.

“Hello Ellen. How are we today, girls?”

Kris takes one look between the girl he’s known since she was born and the identical looking girl on the bed and knows exactly what happened.

“Fine,” Ellen says.

Ali mumbles something, and Kris pulls her hand from her nose. He touches it gently. 

“Well Miss Macauley, it’s not broken, just sore.” Kris looks over Ali’s face and notices a small cut, which he instantly starts cleaning.

“You know one of the wonderful things about camp is the ability to make new friends, right girls?” Kris asks, looking pointedly at Ellen.

“Yes sir,” Ellen says. Ali mumbles again.

“You know some friendships last a lifetime.”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s important to be open to new friendships too.”

“Yes sir.”

Kris laughs as he lifts Ali off the bed, her cut freshly bandaged and a wax wrapped caramel slipped into her hand. “Yes sir, yes sir. You’re not listening to a word I’m saying are you?”

“Yes sir,” Ellen repeats with a grin. Kris grins right back and hands her a caramel too.

“Okay, be good you two.”

“Yes sir!” Ali calls as she skips out of the cab. Kris shakes his head as he watches the girls go. He knows that’s not going to happen.

And it doesn’t. Their next class is theatre with Knox, where they’re putting on a production of the Wizard of Oz. 

“Alright guys, I have the cast list for you.” Knox rattles off names and assignments: Cosette is the Wicked Witch of the East, and Nick is the Cowardly Lion. “Ellen Rojas and Ali Macauley, you guys are Munchkins.”

“How come I’m a Munchkin when I’m taller than Ellen?” Ali asks, her voice a little warped because of her swollen nose.

“Am not!” Ellen protests.

“Are too!”

Cosette and Nick roll their eyes at each other and Knox sighs.

“Girls, girls, you two are identical if you haven’t realized.”

Both girls stop their squabbling to stare at Knox. They look at each other, studying one another.

“No way,” Ali says. 

“Agreed,” Ellen says.

“I’m way better looking than Ellen.”

“Excuse you! You look like you’re gonna sell drugs on the street in high school.”

Ali opens her mouth in shock as Knox startles and begins to reprimand Ellen. “Ellen Maeve Rojas you can not say things like tha-”

“TAKE THAT BACK!” Ali interrupts with a shout, lunging at Ellen. Ellen maintains her ground, and pushes back, aiming a punch at Ali’s already injured nose. Ali, being an inch taller in her Docs, gains the upper hand as she rolls on top of Ellen and is about to punch her nose when another person arrives in the amphitheater.

“Hey Knox I’ve got that box of props you wanted and Ali what in the world are you doing?”

Everyone turns to Maeve Santos carrying an old cardboard box under one arm. She’s in mom jeans and a Bayview High t-shirt today, a bandana covering her hair, and right now, she’s fuming. 

“She called me a future drug dealer!” Ali points at Ellen. “I was defending myself!”

“She started it!” Ellen protests, pushing Ali off her and sitting up. 

“No I didn’t, you started it!”

Maeve watches with pursed lips. Knox, having known Maeve for years, steps back. He knows an angry Maeve when he sees one.

“Both of you, come one, you’re moving to cabin seven.”

“Cabin seven?” Ellen repeats incredulously. “There are spiders and bugs and pests and stuff there!”

“And? You’re being a pest. Both of you. I’m disappointed in you. So you’re living together until you learn to get along.”

Her voice is calm, conversational almost, but her amber eyes are flashing dangerously. This is a Maeve you don’t cross. 

Sadly, Ellen doesn’t always have common sense.

“My mom won’t like that,” she says.

“Your mother is a…” Maeve stops, taking a deep breath to compose herself, and for a moment, both Ellen and Ali are actually scared. Ellen’s heard about the Aunt Maeve of yesteryears, the one who pushed people away and lashed out when hurting or scared because she never knew how to accept love. Bronwyn says Maeve used to be different, and Ellen can see what she meant. 

Ali and Ellen glance at each other, and they come to an understanding: they don’t need to talk to one another, or even acknowledge each other’s presence in Cabin Seven. But Maeve Santos should not be angered. 

“We’ll get our stuff,” Ali mumbles for the both of them.

“Good,” Maeve says.

“Off to the isolation cabin?” Knox teases. Maeve turns her glare to him, and he steps back.

“Forget I said anything.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

*slams hand down on the dinner table* tell me more about the dragon, please? 🥺

[ 🩰 ] is there a type of fashion your muse prefers, or do they not pay attention to their appearance at all?

And/or

[ 📢 ] what does your muse’s voice sound like? is it high-pitched, or deep? is it nasal or set in their chest? describe it in as much detail as you can.

*drops my fork before grinning like a maniac* You wish to know more about the dragon? The Dragon of the Dread Wolf? Oh, I can give you the deep LORE! >:D

[ 🩰 ] is there a type of fashion your muse prefers, or do they not pay attention to their appearance at all?

So, to begin, Fane is not concerned with how he looks. He hates, for a very long time, how he looks, so he tries not to draw attention with flashy clothing or personalized tidbits. However, there is one defining feature of Fane's clothing that he will not go without, and that's leather Elvhen wraps (it's akin to what Solas wears underneath his tunic, but all over for Fane. Arms, torso (up to the neck), legs.) This is more about practically than style for Fane. He is very adverse to wearing anything with Dalish or Elvhen inspiration, but his bindings are the exception.

Fane's father did horrific experimentation on him, practically carving him like a piece of game with jagged knives, spectral daggers, and most of all, magic. As you can imagine, this left Fane heavily, heavily scarred and extremely sensitive to any forms of magic, to the point where he gets incredibly ill. So, the leather wraps serve as protection and a way to cover up the evidence of the abuse from not only everyone around him, but his sister, as well. Fane makes and cures the leather himself, knowing exactly how to fashion it so it will breathe for extended periods of time. The colors range from dark brown, black, and on occasion, deep, deep green.

As for just every day attire, Fane opts for things that are loose and practical, his scars making it hard to wear anything too tight and again, because he doesn't want to draw attention towards himself. He'll wear cotton tunics, ranging from black to dark grey, usually quarter sleeved. He wears Elvhen leggings but he will not go barefoot unless he's in bed, instead wearing either boots (black or brown) or a type of mesh sock that gives him traction while still covering his feet. In addition, the Anchor acts differently to Fane in my AU and is extremely volatile more than depicted in the game, thus Solas and he craft another portion or wrap and later a type of vambrace and glove that acts as a minor ward. Otherwise, Fane just wears generic gloves, fingerless as his scars don't go that far. The only, only, only thing that Fane wears that has Dalish inspiration is a velvet sash around his waist with delicate gold embroidery of hallas and trees and it was a gift from his sister. So, he wears it for her, not for the heritage.

I have added a few bits and pieces since the last time I've discussed Fane's appearance and clothing, but these are the basics that have never changed. The tidbits I've added are that he wears a dagger on his left thigh, a leather strap keeping it and the sheathe in place, and he carries a long sword at his hip, but on the field he opts for great swords. Different place, different tools. But that's more or less Fane's go to in regards to fashion! X3

[ 📢 ] what does your muse’s voice sound like? is it high-pitched, or deep? is it nasal or set in their chest? describe it in as much detail as you can.

Ohhhh, I could talk about Fane's voice a million times! >:D

Fane has carried over more than just certain physical attributes from being a dragon, and his voice is one of them. I always describe as the softest of rolling thunder. It's deep, but not like the game's deep, it's husky when regarding someone he cares deeply for, it's a bellowing baritone when issuing commands in the midst of a heady battle or when warped rage guides it forward. It always holds a growl in its timbre, rumbling deep in his chest, like the soft echo of thunder after a lightning strike. When he's flustered it pitches upwards slightly, hitching and then dropping low, and I mean, low. The accent Fane bears is neither Dalish nor Free Marcher nor really Elvhen; it's a brand of its own. However, I imagine it somewhere between Solas' and the other Elvhen, but not precisely. I need to do some digging and try to find a voice claim since it's hard to describe, but Fane's accent is...special and is really evident when he, on rare occasions, speaks in complete Elvhen, the syllables fluid, the pace in which they flow concise as a mind so used to listening has been able to, even when memories are vague, retain the knowledge that was lost to those of direct Elvhen blood.

...So, yeah! Fane has a sexy voice and Solas short circuits when he speaks in Elvhen. XD You're not the only one that has a really intoxicating voice, Solas! You're literal husband does, too! XD

Thank you so much for the ask, friend! <3

[withanina]

***Trigger warning: Self loathing, gender discrimination, murder, suicide(premeditated and aftermath)*** 

[Image description- series of black and white 3-koma manga panels. The art is in gudaguda style, cute chibi type characters who only have one eye and a mouth to express emotion.

Image 1- Titled “Tale of the Fool of Owari”. Credits below say “ Translated by @AelenAltria ; Beta by @butchcorgi ; Typeset by @Azenon“

     Panel 1: A soliloquy starting as the speaker, Oda Nobukatsu, looks at the back of his sister, Oda Nobunaga, stating “My older sister is incredible.”

    Panel 2: “I am incompetent” Nobukatsu states, smiling at the simple truth, as we see him in his formal japanese clothes.

     Panel 3: “But for some reason, it was always my older sister who was viewed as a fool, not me.” Nobukatsu is seen turning back, away from Nobunaga’s cheerful walk listening to gossip saying “What’s with that outfit? You’re a woman!”, “She’s really gone mad.”, “The Odas don’t have much time left.”

Image 2-

     Panel 1: “The guys who make my sister out to be a fool always say the same thing,” Nobukatsu continues as he stares at his sister’s back again. “ “You’re a woman, why are you like this?” “

    Panel 2: “Then what does that make me,” Nobukatsu wonders, frowning. “Someone who’s incompetent even as a man?”

    Panel 3: “One time our father asked us, “What is the thing you need most to protect the country?” “, Nobukatsu recalls. He and Nobunaga are both seated respectfully in front of their father, whose face is in shadow. Nobukatsu replied emphatically, “I answered that you need an excellent commander and many soldiers to serve you.”

Image 3-

    Panel 1: “Firearms.” Oda Nobunaga’s face is mostly hidden, but the visible expression is one of total confidence. “My sister’s answer was just one word,” Nobukatsu remembers.

    Panel 2: “ I couldn’t really get how you’d protect a country using firearms, but I was sure my older sister could pull it off.” Nobukatsu’s expression is marked as confused as he has a smile, but a question mark floats beside him. “But for some reason, Father had a bitter look on his face.”

Panel 3: “It was around that time that my sister started to parade around the castle town dressed much more eccentric than before,” Nobukatsu recalls, as we see him worriedly chase after Nobunaga( dressed as Kippoushi form of Maou Nobunaga- Long ponytail, sword at their waist, alcohol gourd in their left, another sword in their right)  who is merrily advancing. “And she was ridiculed as a fool that much more”

Image 4-

    Panel 1: “It was a given she would succeed our Father when he passed away,” Nobukatsu explains, his expression now troubled as he frowns slightly. “But for some reason, our retainers came to welcome me instead of her. For some reason they kept insisting she was incompetent.”

    Panel 2: “ I don’t get what they’re saying...” Nobukatsu is now a pure black silhouette, his eyes and mouth visibly sad and upset. “Why are they saying this, why, I don’t get it, I just...”

    Panel 3:”Ah, I see now...” Nobukatsu’s silhouetted face is now a bright smile as he understands. “They’re all fools”

Image 5-

    Panel 1: “There’s no way these idiots deserve to be my sister’s vassals,” Nobukatsu states, gazing at Nobunaga’s distant back. “And of course, neither do I!”

    Panel 2: The silhouetted Nobukatsu stands among the corpses of the unfaithful vassals, most of whom are pierced by swords or arrow. Nobukatsu stands in the center, a large smile on his face. Noticeably, his ponytail has now taken Nobunaga’s trait of being seemingly on fire.

    Panel 3: “It serves you right, fools.” Nobukatsu is sitting in ceremonial white robes, a bright expression on his face. In front of him is a blade on a small tray. “Come now, Sister- All that’s left to do is kill my incompetent self!”

Image 6-

    Panel 1: A close up of Nobukatsu, hiding the top of his face. A joyful smile covers his face and his hair retains some of the previous flame trait.

    Panel 2: The background has now changed to black, and the characters are more pale outlines than before. “I leave the rest to you, Sister” Nobukatsu’s final words as Nobunaga stands in front of her disemboweled sibling, her expression isn’t shown but her hair is noticabley whiter even against the black background. “Ah... But if I could only do one more thing...” Nobukatsu says.

    Panel 3: ‘I wish I could’ve had just a little more fun with you...’ Nobunaga is seen advancing energetically again, possibly dancing the Atsumori.

Image 7- “Sister! Let’s go get some ice cream in the cafeteria!” Nobukatsu cheerfully suggests, he is now wearing his military cap and uniform with the cape. He is cheerfully running towards Nobunaga, who is in her Archer uniform. “Come on, don’t follow me around!” Nobunaga complains as she heads forward, a smile on her face.

End Description]

From Koha-Ace 2019 Winter special by Keikenchi.

I don’t think I’d believe you if you told me I’d get so attached to Nobukatsu, but here we are and I love this child so much. He needs to get adopted into my Chaldea ASAP to be with his sisters!

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with JET

The first story by JET (Jesemie's Evil Twin) was posted at Gossamer in 1999. You probably remember if you've read any of her stories because she has a unique voice among the many authors of X-Files fanfic. Many of her stories are at Gossamer, but some that aren't there include "Small Lives Awake" and two little fics in its universe, "Imagination" and an Untitled fic. Big thanks to JET for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Honestly, yes. I mean, it's nice, but a little bit surreal. What I feel highly conscious of is that the show premiered 27 years ago; some days that feels like 27 centuries ago. But maybe only because this year has lasted 27 centuries? idk

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I got so lucky finding the group of kind, smart, crazy talented writers I found, and it was sheer dumb luck because I was so incredibly dippy and both underwhelmed by the interwebs of the time (frames! Netscape! whatever was up with Geocities and all those freakin' starscape backgrounds!) and overwhelmed by things like newsgroups (I still have literally no idea how those worked, but there seemed to be 900 kazillion XF fans there). It was great to find a bunch of people who liked the show at the same level I did (cough, A Normal Amount, cough), though in some ways that seems like the bonus to simply having found such a wonderful group of people with whom I am still in contact. The real government conspiracies with hostile extraterrestrials were the friends I made along the way...or something like that.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

A few writers had their own websites (I guess that's what those were?) that I'd lurk around, but mostly I was loyal to a couple of email mailing lists and LiveJournal. Unsurprisingly to anyone who's met me, I was bad at keeping up with them; I did try to, though. (Am I remembering correctly that folks started leaving LJ when Russia got involved somehow? The post-show 2000s are a big blur to me now.)

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Quite specifically, that poor dude who coughs up a baby fluke in the shower during "The Host". That such a thing -- in retrospect, a nifty and deeply gross practical effect -- had made it onto network TV blew my mind. I did also love Scully and Mulder very quickly. They seemed like such engaging grown ups in all the right ways: intelligent, hard working, clever, loyal to each other, and, if you recall early season two, wearing some of the saddest bureaucrat suits and sporting the least flattering haircuts I'd ever seen on screen. <3

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have a vague recollection that I had been reading fanfic for something like a year and finally had a story I wanted to try writing. Shout out to Jill Selby for being the nicest, most supportive first reader anyone could have asked for.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I think of it very fondly! I've otherwise stepped away almost entirely.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I have been in much, much, much more peripheral ways. Partly that's because Life; I don't in general have the kind of free time I had as a college student and part-time employee (and free time circa 1999 was time I should've been using to study or go full-time at my then-job or whatever). I think perhaps because I had such a special, legit lovely experience with XF fandom -- and because I'm still friends with so many people from that time -- I've never much wanted to throw myself into another fandom at the same level.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

In small doses, yes. I wasn't a casual viewer back in the day and I'm still not, so I watch a few eps here and there when I know I'll have time to really enjoy them but not so much time that I'll become a complete addict again. In an age of ~peak TV~ there seem to be 782 new shows annually, and I maybe watch 1 of them,  and they never seem to remind me much of XF -- which either means I've missed the shows that have been influenced by XF or the show has retained a kind of singularity. Honestly, I suspect (or maybe just hope) it's the latter.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I reread Kipler and Penumbra's XF stories every so often and grind my teeth with continued jealousy. But most of my fic consumption these days is in Black Sails (QUEER PIRATES TRYING TO OVERTHROW ENGLAND. PLEASE WATCH BLACK SAILS), Superbat (Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne), and The Witcher. (Have I seen The Witcher? No. Have I read the books? The first one and maybe 1/6 of the second one. Have I played the video games or read the comics? No. Has that stopped me from reading fic? No.)

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Oh man, I have never been able to pick favorites. That said, "Unwritten" was possibly the sparest story I wrote and I still really like the imagery in it.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Never say never. No plans to write anything else in XF at present. (This does make me wonder, though, if there're any drafts on an old somehow-still-active email account somewhere...)

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Ha haha ahaha, no. (Well, my mom knows I was in a ~writing group~. Thankfully, she has never asked for further details.) Like. It amazes and charms me that, say, someone who is in high school right now may feel exactly 0 hesitation in sharing their fannishness with everyone, everywhere. Fandom is much more understood and accepted as a hobby/way of life/style goals, I think, than it was 25 years ago. But the whole reason I went online in 1997 to look for XF fans was because all the sweet people in my offline life who watched the show were, hmm-- What's a nice way of saying that talking to them about the show was like chewing tinfoil? Compartmentalization has served me well for decades now. :D

(Posted by Lilydale on July 28, 2020)