#no read mores we die like men

[cantuscorvi]

Is there any life philosophy that young Raum has had to let go over the years? Any hopes or dreams Raum used to cling to even in his 20s that he has gradually abandoned or ones that were ripped out from him by force/trauma? Or perhaps opinions/beliefs he had that were crushed by experience? If older Raum, late 30s/early 40s, could say something to his 19yo self, what would it be?

@nezumivc103221

Oh absolutely. A bunch of things that shaped how Raum sees the world actually hit before he reached 20, especially regarding trauma, but you asked about this time period specifically, so I won't mention those here. The development of 20yo to 40yo Raum is like, a problem of just generally being young and stupid. His inexperience, decadence and idealism.

Raum has always had an issue with selfishness and with idealism of his own capabilities. He always wants to have his cake and eat it too. When he was younger — it made him a bit of a fence-sitter. He didn’t really have to think hard, or make any tough choices. He would follow whatever his father told him, and when he decided he didn’t like it, he would run to his uncle instead. He would jump back and forth on that seesaw however it suited him, basically playing them against each other so that he could feel the most comfortable.

Growing up spoiled like this, he was lazy. He had a philosophy that things should be handed to him without having to choose, or to take action. Or, that he could choose both options in any scenario and take advantage without having to lift a finger.

When you don’t commit to anything, then you never lose. Right?

Eventually he even grew fed up of that game of seesaw. He felt alienated by his father and suffocated by his uncle. So what to do? Well, nothing seems to be working out, so you throw it all away and start again.

Raum had an intention to leave his current life (both it's privileges and responsibilities) behind when he was eighteen. Travelling abroad to study seemed like a perfect excuse. Tired of feeling pulled in two directions by his family, and in effort to create distance and rethink the direction of his life, he wanted to take some steps toward independence. At that time, there was some part of him that wanted to disappear. He had an — admittedly, naïve — idea that he could just go to where nobody knew him and try becoming someone else.

A period of experimentation, Raum spent the time in university trying to live as ‘normal’ a life as he could. He studied pretty hard because he was genuinely interested in his subject matter, ( history & conservation) but he also did a lot of drinking, partying, experimentation with sexuality and drugs. In the end, mostly normal student behaviours. After spending a lot of time under the control of others, he went a bit wild when away from their magnifying glass. He had a sense of freedom he hadn’t held before, but also a lack of personal growth. However, he was only able indulge that fantasy life for one year before Friedrich died.

Friedrich’s death essentially threw a grenade on any plans Raum might have had (tentative as they already were) and forced him to take over his position as the head of WC due to the process of his will. He didn’t really have room to refuse, to prevent the company stock from crashing and burning into the ground and everything being saddled under a mountain of debt. It was a time of emotional turmoil and fragility in his life. One where all of that pressure he had been avoiding was put upon his shoulders without warning. He couldn’t escape anything.

In the end, Raum crawled back to Cyrus for guidance on how to pick up the pieces, meanwhile silencing his negative emotions using those hedonistic activities that he had previously only dabbled in. He had to fix what he considered to be a broken company with a severely outdated business model, meanwhile the previous allies had turned into new competitors trying to profit from their potential demise.

In the end, he realised that by not choosing anything to start with, he gave up his free will entirely. Even with how he behaved to avoid his emotions ; he essentially got addicted to escaping. He gave up his opportunity to choose the path in his life. And throughout his twenties, even though it was still something he sometimes wished for, he eventually gave up on the idea of escape. From then on his approach to life totally flipped and he became very proactive about setting targets, making decisions, and taking steps to obtain what he wants.

To be honest, if Raum had to talk to his younger self he would just get so caught up in berating him for being dumb that he wouldn’t be able to offer any important advice LMAO. Hindsight really is 20/20 in this situation, there’s almost no way he could’ve predicted or prepared for what was out of his control. And, the only way Raum could offer any warning is if he knew the circumstances that caused Friedrich to die.

[whcwashe]

FIVE TIMES KISSED we love a classic rp meme and i hope ur plane journey is thrilling

i. She shouldn’t interrupt him mid-phrase, probably. But she can’t help it either, reaching to pull him closer to where she sits — perched at the edge of the kitchen counter.

It’s just that the house is lively, for once. Less like a crypt and more like a home, that can welcome things like sunshine, and baking. And it’s all him, really. The life, and the music. So maybe it’s not so ridiculous, pressing her lips to his while he’s mid-song. She’s just expressing her gratitude.

ii. She’s not generally the ‘public displays of affection’ type either. Straight laced, and well behaved, not a wrinkle in sight, or anything anyone could really bat an eyelash at. It’s just that for once, she’s managed to surpass just feeling normal, she’s somewhere in the realm of giddy.

It was funny, in a way. Not even her mother had ever given in to her more pointed flights of fancy. Whimsy was the kind of thing that they’d rarely ever had time for. But he’d practically beaten her to the door that morning. No questions asked, he was unabashedly along for the ride. More than willing to stand in long lines just for coffee that could only be too expensive, and kind of gross. So sure, maybe they’re in public, but she leans to press a kiss to his ear nevertheless, happily settling into his side. There isn’t anyone she’d rather be with.

iii. She can’t remember what happened, between the mill house and the hospital, a whole day lost, somewhere in the middle. She felt too much like she’d been made of legos, dropped, and hastily put back together. Everything was stiff, and it was freezing, and the painkillers didn’t do anything to keep the ghosts at bay. At least they give her a decent excuse for sounding irrational, muttering about too many people being in the room every time she tries to pull her IV out so she can leave.

She’s frantic, really.

At least until someone lets Jaskier in and reality starts to click into place. It was hard to tell, sometimes, who was real and who was a ghost — but he was real. Real, and warm, and there. And she’s sure he’s not supposed to be in the bed, but she drags him in anyway, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she buries her face in his shoulder and settles there. Like he’s the only lifeline she has.

iv. It was ridiculous, frankly. The kind of thing you could only accomplish with charm, and luck, and some help from a few magically influenced lottery tickets. She wouldn’t normally have been the type to go on vacation in a city she already lived in, it was the kind of thing she’d have called extravagant. But she had to admit it was a nice change of pace, staying in a room that was definitely worth three times as much as what they were paying. Getting drunk at a rooftop bar and coming back to a suite with the most ridiculous claw foot tub imaginable. And sure, maybe the tub was really only meant for one person at a time, but that hardly stops her from dragging him in for a kiss and pulling him over the side. They could deal with the water on the floor later.

v. There’s blood on his face, and it takes her far too long to realize that it’s hers. That her hands have been dripping for days and she’s left fingerprints on everything she touches. It’s just that things are so much worse now, and every map is turning into a blood soaked page, and no amount of bandages will hold her palms together anymore. “I’m sorry.” She does her best to clean his face off with her sleeve, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she wipes. “I’m so sorry.”

[ukulele-mixtape]

woo babey shadow is going through it big time, ain't he

speaking of big (awesome segue i know), this is my piece for the @sthbigbang based off the fic Hedgehog Day by the lovely @killingthecringe!!! go read it!!!! do it!!!!!!

@kiull90 and @darksonics also did some absolutely fantastic artworks so please go support them as well!!!

[newspecies]

"the vast majority of legal persecution against early queers was focused on men" ARE YOU INSANE

[tinseltina]

You can feel free to ignore this until you feel like rambling, or forever, but do you have any strong opinions or headcanons or anything about Pixie Hollow you feel like ranting about? I adored that series when I was younger and I'd loved to be dragged back into it.

I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

FIRST OFF LETS START WITH THE MOVIE SERIES VS THE BOOKS

right off the bat, all the pixie hollow books take place AFTER the peter pan movie, they don't say when exactly but book 3 (quest for neverland) is like 3 generations (maybe 4?) after Wendy and her brothers go to neverland. And he character spotlight books never really mention quest for neverland (iirc there's ONE reference to vidia and the dragon kyto from that book but no one talks about human girl gwendolyn), but they do take place after it

the first 3 chapter books all occur within like a month or 2 of time and everything else at varying points of time.

i'm still compiling all the evidence to put out a VERY rough timeline (some books are clear about their relation to other adventures/books). however i'm in no rush to do any of that, so don't hold your breath.

Now there IS a HUGE detail in the lore regarding pixie hollow and the fairy dust.

There used to be a different "home tree" (called the Pixie Dust tree) WAAAAY long ago. There was another whole population of fairies there. and THAT tree, produced pixie dust (the stuff that makes them fly and helps their magic etc etc). it was DESTROYED and MOST of those fairies died back then (it was this cataclysmic event in neverland that basically decimated a ton of it, but everything eventually regrew). From that tree grew the new Home Tree where everyone is now.

Another character, Mother Dove (the bird you may or may not have heard of when ppl talk about these books) was basically reborn during this fire when she got hit with the fire. (magical fire, didn't kill this bird. it's implied that neverland's magic basically imbued this bird with her own magic because before then she was just a regular bird). her feathers are magic and when she molts, the fairies take her feathers and grind them down into dust, this is called FAIRY dust. Now a couple of the books have typos and use the term "pixie" dust, but it's not what the lore currently states. pixie dust is B.C. (before calamity) and fairy dust is A.C. (after calamity)

After this calamity and turning magic, mother dove laid an egg and that egg will never hatch, it's a magic egg that she must always incubate bc the egg is what keeps everything in neverland young and/or living forever.

OK NOW THAT THAT'S OUTTA THE WAY LET'S MOVE ON

the tinkerbell movie? that universe has no mother dove and the tree is the one from legend because the pixie dust (yes PIXIE dust) flows from it. there's a dust depot where the dust is portioned out for fairies each day but no dust mill (where the grinding of the feathers into dust would happen)

Now at one point i thought "maybe the movies could potentially just be telling what happened before the books" It's got a mostly new cast, why not?

because TINKER BELL IS THERE. Vidia, and terence are also there. and these 3 are major players in the books that couldn't have survived that calamity. (queen clarion POTENTIALLY). fawn and iridessa and silvermist and rosetta all show up in books later (at one point the books were coming out at the same time as the movies rosetta is the one character to receive a major design change from her book counterpart, so i could even accept her being a different garden fairy with the same name and similar personality)

ok now RAPID FIRE FACTS

dust alchemy? not a thing in the books. but dust is also WAY more interesting and required for so much of the fairies magic in the book (yeah, you can use it for EVERYTHING. ex. garden fairies are like folks with a green thumb, they GET their plants and tend to be good at growing things, but sprinkling dust can help with speed and size of growth or stuff like hybridization. kitchen/cooking/baking talents they dont use fire, they use DUST to heat things and boil water stuff like that. i still gotta check if that's not retconned in places but it makes sense considering how small they are and how quickly fire can spread)

the blue dust from lost treasure? also not a thing, but interesting given the tree situation, and it's interesting to think nothing is actually a neverending resource, but also it doesn't really make sense? cuz like WHAT'S THE POINT OF A TREE THAT MAKES DUST IF IT CAN'T DO IT FOREVER? i can see the argument for either side. but i'm leaning on "blue dust is like fertilizer for a magic tree"

vidia is actually a HUUUUUGE b-tch in the books. like the kinda a-hole that is kinda irredeemable and luckily the books never try to redeem her either. she's not quite "evil" but she is the kinda person who is terrible and refuses to change. but she basically committed a "cardinal sin" by plucking some of mother doves feathers from her to get fresh feathers to make her own pixie dust. (it's revealed that the dust from freshly plucked and not older MOLTED feathers, contain more potent magic) and vidia is obsessed with being the fastest flier in pixie hollow so she wanted special dust. this was a painful process for mother dove and it was done in secret but after she was found out it basically got her banished from seeing mother dove up close ever again (it's like being banished from seeing your mother and the pope all rolled into one. idk it's hard for me to explain motherdove without going "yeah she's kinda vaguely omniscient/telepathic. like she's not God, but she's got some pretty godly powers in relation to the fairies and the rest of neverland ngl, hence the pope analogy) and kicked outta the home tree apartments (paraphrasing for humor). she's not kicked outta fairy society or nothing, they would never go that far, these books are HEAVY with collectivist themes. but vidia lives separate from the other fairies in her own tree (and she actually prefers it. iirc it's implied she could come back to the home tree if she wanted, but she AND the rest of the fairy population prefer the space).

actually all the fairies kinda jerks, but i think that falls in line with the idea of tricky faeries in mythology and i don't dislike it. it makes the vidia thing sting less as well?

prilla (sweet wonderful, she's not actually my favorite but we love her regardless) is the odd one out amongst fairies because she's kinda part human? so fairies are born from a baby's first laugh, right? (if you didn't know now you know. this is the same in both books and movies) well the laugh prilla came from had a little too much of her human's personality, so this effected her memory and her ability to conform in their fairy society (she regularly would mix up british human lingo with the fairy stuff and it bugs the fairies. remember how i said they were all dicks? yeah they don't like humans, prilla is a little too human at first and it bugs them). but it also gave her everything she needed for her talent (she's the one and only "mainland blinking fairy clapping" talent. if you've ever read the og peter pan book or heard of the stage play when tinker bell is about to die and they're like "clap if you believe in fairies!". yeah prilla's talent is to astral project her image to the human land and get them to clap periodically to keep fairies going strong.

sidenote fairies apparently REGULARLY died before prilla came along. and it's sad and the fairies get but also it's very "oh that sucks :/ but we gotta keep it pushin!". now in the movies the fairies are still at risk from like birds of pray or bodily harm, but the dying of disbelief is a non-issue.

it's not that there's NO romance in the books, it's that there's next to none. it's terence and his crush on tinker bell and tinker bell with her unrequited crush on and later heartbreak surrounding peter pan. tink is fully aware of terence's feelings for her, and the feeling isn't really mutual? she's mostly afraid of heartbreak but still she'd rather just stay friends with him.

OH! early book terence is like a legit incel. he used to have a different design too, and like he really looked like something outta the virgin vs chad meme (in fact i DID make a meme about it)

mothertrucker actually used magic to make tinker bell fall in love with him (it doesn't lead anywhere beyond just her being obsessed with and wanting to be next to him all the time. get your mind outta the gutter these books are for kids). and he is RELUCTANT to try to turn her back to normal. oh and she's completely aware after the fact of how she acted and felt and that it was terence's fault. she just like forgives him and moves on without really addressing it.

movie terence sometimes goes a little far for tinker bell but it never feels like he's doing more than any of her main friend group, you know? but in the books terence isn't really a FRIEND like the other characters are, he feels separate from the rest of them.

fairy society? kinda communistic. everyone works for the good of the collective to keep things running smoothly

all talents are important and useful (yes, even art talents and music talents and all sorts of stuff. decor, decoration, beautification of surroundings, and entertainment are all appreciated) i assume this is one of the reasons why the "unable to engage in your talent" type of "incomplete" is so serious and pitied. if you cannot help the collective, then what are you to the collective? (this is not to say however that rest days are not employed and encouraged, they absolutely are! leisure and rest and recuperation are necessary and highly encouraged. it's much harder to get a fairy to STOP doing something involving their talents, BECAUSE it brings them so much joy and self-fulfillment). but to permanently be unable to work for the benefit of the community?

but i digress! my point is EVERYONE is useful. there are even fairies who's talents are "tall tale telling". liars, they're good at lying. but this falls under the category of "storytelling" and fairies love stories. i said entertainment is appreciated!

everyone eats at the same time and meals are provided

their homes are made up and customized for them when they first arrive (read: are born)

everyone can engage in hobbies as well (rosetta in the movies and the books is a fan of fashion and dressing up and doing self care) at any time and basically just have to ask for help or for materials if they want. there may be trading involved in case what you want is something that gets in the way of someone else's work or their own collection. but for the most part fairies are fine sharing whatever excess. (an example shown in "art lessons by bess" the art talents also help make paint and refill storage. they're free to use whatever they want and that includes other fairies as well, but they help make more for whoever needs it)

a talent isn't just the 1 activity a fairy does everyday forever, it can also include a whole host of other duties and activities to help out. some fairies even help in other areas when their specific talent isn't in demand (ex. party planning talents, or celebration set-up talents help to set up the tea room between meals when a party isn't being prepared. garden talents don't just grow flowers they can also grow different kinds of foods, or help with plant knowledge or assist nursing talents acquire herbs for different remedies)

queen clarion has a talent, she is a "queen talent" fairy. she presumably took over after the last queen (it is stated Vidia and the Fairy Crown that there have been multiple queens in the past and the crown with the crown jewels have been passed down to each queen since before the time of pixie hollow and it survived the great calamity). very bee like to have been born primed to be a queen. i think it's also implied that fairies don't grow like humans do, and it's likely that clarion was born in the form she is now and has always been that "age"

(if you apply that logic to the movies, then fairy mary and fairy gary and milori and the scribe from the winter region were also all that old the whole time)

winter fairies dont exist books. their jobs are basically just subsets of the other talents. and i think pixie hollow doesn't snow. i gotta double check on that and finish reading my books.

HEADCANON TIME (admittedly there aren't a lot of these)

i got a comment about this once on tiktok which led to me having to explain a little more about talents in general and how fairy identity works. but someone pointed out that prilla is very autistic-coded. and i was like "they're ALL autistic coded" no seriously bc of talents and how...preoccupied everyone can be with their talents, it gives off a "special interest" kinda vibe. and depending on the fairy they're showcase more symptoms people common have on the spectrum.

i mentioned earlier that prilla has her whole "a little too human" effecting her focus and memories? yeah she talks differently, she has habits that are considered good mannered in humans but really strange to fairies. she regularly astral projects by "blinking to the mainland", and the way it's written it gives off maladaptive daydreaming (disclaimer, maladaptive daydreaming is NOT a symptom of autism spectrum disorder, but i've noticed many folks under the neurodivergent umbrella also have this) as it butts into the current narrative and when prilla "wakes up" she can be unaware of what has happened around her or what kinds of conversations took place (not all the time. in some cases muscle memory for menial labor takes over and she can keep up just fine as long as someone doesn't interrupt the routine. not unlike real life for some folks). the blinking thing also could be read as a form of stimming/bodily regulation. talents for fairies, and engaging in activities involving their talents brings them joy, comfort and self-fulfillment. also she cartwheels a lot, which is also very stim-like.

iris, a garden talent, is also very "common depiction of autism"-like to me, however it's in a kinda negative light. she infodumps about plants, doesn't seem to get the social cue that people want her to be quiet or leave, and is generally seen as a nuisance to others around her. she's also got the quirk that she's not very good at growing plants, which is odd. she's said to have had her own garden at once point and then lost it (i think the implication being she left it unattended for too long and the plot of land was given to someone else, and everyone has since forgotten she ever tended to that plot, but she didn't fight for it either). because of this odd history and quirk of hers some fairies believe her to be "incomplete" (a term that has a few meanings that are all VERY disability/birth defect/developmentally challenged coded. including but not limited to, something wrong with one's wings like them being shaped in a way that makes it difficult or even impossible to fly, missing limbs or extremities, lacking a talent, losing the ability to engage in one's talent and fulfill their role in fairy society, for example a scout that cannot see cannot help protect the home tree and fairies from birds of prey). not everyone believes this, and very few if any would actually say it to her face, this is a very serious claim and kinda taboo to say out loud. I'm making her sound incredibly sympathetic, aren't i? and i want to agree that she is but also she is kinda catty in the books (fairies are dicks. i keep tellin ya. VERY endearing but kinda frustrating all the same)

EVERYTHING about rani after she cut off her wings on a mission to save mother dove. VERY physically disabled coded. she lost limbs (specifically 2 limbs that are also integral to fairy identity. fairies love their talents and they love to fly) and the others pity her and say things like how they "could never do such a thing". rani doesn't regret the decision, however, she got to experience swimming, something she always wanted to do and something fairies cannot do. (they sink because their wings absorb water and drag them down. and yes they can drown and die; even in the rain) and i LOVE that she's proud of both her decision and she enjoys being flightless for the most part, after watching a lot of crutchesandspice (imani) on tiktok and her talks of disability justice and giving more info from a disability perspective, many disabled folks don't hate nor wish they weren't disabled (what they want is for society to accept and better/actually accommodate disabled people) so i LOVE that for rani. and i love the perspective of someone living their best life.

rani also has 2 other quirks, one is because of plot reasons from the 2nd book (quest for the wand) and the other is just a quirk she's always had. 1. rani can finish people's sentences, she's got this sixth sense for what people are going to say and yes it does sometimes bother them to be interrupted. her friends just get used to it and basically ignore it and keep conversations going. 2. she was at one point turned into a bat (vengeful mermaid magic. also MERMAIDS ARE GIANT DICKS. welcome to neverland everyone is an azzhat) and her brain basically fused with the bat's brain because not only did she turn into a bat, that bat ALSO had it's own consciousness? i can't explain that without rereading the book (or you can read it yourself. it's Fairy Haven and the Quest for the Wand) but apparently when she turned back into a fairy the bat conscious, still lingered in her mind? i literally don't even know what to make of that. i'm not calling it Disassociative Identity Disorder (if you are someone with DID and it resonates with you, more power to you. me with my bachelor's in psychology and VERY basic understanding of the disorder am not comfortable really calling it that mostly because it doesn't really seem like it fits the criteria for that sort of "diagnosis")

terence! terence and all the other dust talent fairies have a special specific teacup to measure dust EXACTLY. autistics and our special utensils, am i right? iykyk xD no but really it's a big deal they all carry those cups around and if they break it's a big deal.

many other talents that also have specific tools to do their jobs (tinkers/pots-and-pans with their hammers or screwdrivers or whatever, sweepers with their brooms, to name a couple) also have their favorites that are painstakingly crafted/selected. and using any other would feel unnatural or inefficient or just plain wrong.

ok that's a lot and everything i could think of off the top of my head and it's like 2am and i wanna sleep. so i'll have to continue this some other day if/when i think of more.

[wuhuha]

Just a *gasp* non-chibi sketch dump. Maybe one day I will learn to render hair beyond 1 shadow layer + a higlight one.

Been stressing about learning how to color my art lately, so been enjoying just doing good ol' line art.

[borbonsg]

send me 🍹 for a short fanfic/headcanon of our muses // @notprinceadonis

i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you.

— no archive warnings apply, jason hatzis/nicolás amadeu borbón y grecia, bisexual disaster nicolás amadeu borbón y grecia, violence, period typical violence, blood, angst with a happy ending, getting together, and they were medieval roommates, adonis mentioned, not actually medieval, like early 1800s, no beta we die like men.

DIA 1.

jason foi carregado para casa por dois homens desconhecidos. seu rosto e corpo tinham múltiplos machucados e aqueles eram certamente o motivo pelo qual ele estava desacordado. na sua mesa de trabalho nico cortou a roupa que ele estava usando, encharcada de sangue e obstruindo a visão do que era o maior corte de facada que nico já tinha visto. limpando com mais cuidado ele pode ver, sem tanto sangue no local, que não foi uma facada e sim um corte de uma ponta a outra, profundo no músculo e feito com lentidão. quem quer que tenha feito aquilo com jason queria que aquilo fosse lento e doloroso.

— o que foi que aconteceu com ele? — seu sotaque espanhol atrapalhou suas palavras enquanto ele gritava olhando sobre o ombro, mas os homens apenas deram de ombros. um deles estava claramente bêbado e o outro não parecia estar em completa posse de suas faculdades mentais. inúteis.

nicolás fez questão de expulsá-los antes de seguir cuidando do seu amigo. limpou tudo com cuidado e por mais que torcesse para que ele seguisse dormindo ao suturar seu braço, jason acordou com gritos de dor no segundo ponto. ele havia servido ao exército britânico na guerra, trabalhou como médico e ajudou incontáveis homens a não morrer com a perda de sangue: estava acostumado com os gritos e com a luta que pessoas travam quando sentem dor. era claro que jason ia tentar sair de perto dele. ele estava pronto para a luta, mas não para ver o amigo em dor.

— jason, sou eu! — ele tentou segurar os braços do outro contra a mesa, mas jason já estava delirando de dor a ponto de não conseguir ver que estava seguro. nico podia ser um curandeiro, mas ele não tinha tudo em mãos. precisou desmaiar o outro com uma mistura de ervas que nem deveria ter dentro de casa. ver o outro de olhos fechados e saber que ele não acordaria tão cedo ajudou nicolás a fazer o seu trabalho. 

duas horas depois, nicolás havia terminado. quatro horas depois, jason acordou. 

— o que aconteceu? — nicolás não estava ao lado de jason quando ele acordou. a voz grave dele fez seu caminho até a cozinha, onde o espanhol estava limpando toda a sujeira que ele havia feito. quando percebeu de quem se tratava, nicolás largou tudo e foi correndo até o quarto, assustado com algo que não sabia o que era.

— você está bem. — ele sentou-se nos pés da cama, cenho franzido e deixando bem claro que não estava nem um pouco feliz com toda aquela situação. em que confusão jason havia se metido? — em que confusão você se meteu dessa vez? — sua voz não saiu tão controlada quanto ele imaginava. 

— eu… não foi culpa minha. — sua voz estava fraca, rouca. — eu não lembro direito. eu estava voltando da padaria e… eles me cercaram. — enquanto tentava de forma desesperada lembrar dos fatos, jason levou a mão a cabeça e sua expressão se transformou numa de susto. — meu cabelo… 

— está horrível, eles cortaram quase tudo. — jason não tinha cabelo longo, mas com certeza não estava tão ralo quanto estava agora. 

— por que… por que eles fariam isso? — jason tentou se arrastar na cama em busca do pequeno pedaço de espelho que guardava numa mesa de cabeceira, mas foi impedido por nicolás.

— não! nada de se mexer! ordens médicas… — ele mesmo pegou o pedaço de espelho e ofereceu a ele, mas jason apenas ficou olhando para o mais velho. alguns segundos se passaram antes que nico tentasse indicar o espelho novamente, mas ao invés de pegar o objeto, jason deu um tapa na mão do amigo e se retraiu. nico estava pronto para começar uma briga ao ver que o único espelho que eles tinham agora era lixo, mas foi impedido ao ver que jason estava com medo genuíno. — eu acho que… eu acho que é melhor eu ir. 

acima de tudo, nico não queria forçar respostas de jason. o que quer que tenham feito com ele foi o suficiente para fazer ele ter medo de uma aproximação de quem conhecia tão bem. ele jogou o peso do seu corpo com força sob a cadeira da cozinha. encarou a cadeira do lado oposto, onde nessa hora jason estaria dividindo os detalhes do seu dia após voltar do trabalho e nicolás estaria escutando tudo religiosamente. trabalhar de casa o fazia entrar em um tédio típico, mas estaria mentindo se dissesse que esperava jason só porque sentia-se entediado. 

aos poucos, ele terminou a limpeza do local, intercalando em ficar com ódio daquela situação toda e com medo. medo das reações futuras de jason. ele já havia visto aquilo, é claro. homens que iam para a guerra tinham seus traumas. mas aquilo não era guerra, aquilo era diferente. 

— jason? — nicolás bateu na porta do quarto uma hora depois, carregando consigo um prato de sopa. era tudo que eles comiam, normalmente. o dinheiro era apertado e eles faziam questão de dividir tudo que tinham, comida principalmente. a cabeça loira, agora meio raspada, levantou levemente. — eu trouxe comida, você deve estar com fome. 

aquilo foi suficiente para que jason tentasse, da melhor forma, levantar seu tronco. nicolás ajudou ele, com movimentos lentos para não piorar a situação, tanto do emocional quanto do físico dele. levou o prato na direção do colo do dele ainda com movimentos lentos, mas conseguia ver que seu olhar estava distante. apático as coisas que aconteciam ali. 

— você consegue comer sozinho?

— sim, consigo. 

— eu vou te deixar sozinho. mais tarde eu busco o prato. — mas não era aquilo que ele queria dizer e sentiu-se estúpido por dizer. queria ficar ali, do lado de jason como o outro havia feito tantas vezes por ele. queria ser burro e teimoso e insistir naquilo, insistir em mostrar que era seguro confiar nele. porém, o lado de nicolás que sabia que aquilo não ajudaria em nada falou mais alto. 

quando ele mesmo havia terminado de jantar, na cozinha, ele retornou ao quarto para recolher o prato e viu que jason não só havia comido bem, como já estava dormindo novamente. contra todos os seus instintos, ele se permitiu olhar o outro dormir por um instante. um pé já fora do quarto, mas suas costas encostadas no batente da porta. o peito dele subia e descia no seu ritmo normal, estava sem camisa ainda, seu peito coberto por ataduras que provavelmente ainda doíam mais do que nico podia imaginar. havia botado um pouco de sonífero na sopa, é verdade, pois não sabia se jason iria receber bem remédios vindo dele depois do episódio de mais cedo. 

ele conseguiu se arrastar até a cozinha ainda mais uma vez e jogou os pratos usados na pia, jogou com um pouco mais de força do que o necessário. sabia que ia voltar para o quarto dali alguns segundos para dividir sua noite ao lado de alguém que amava tanto, que estava tão machucado e ele nem ao menos sabia o que tinha acontecido. não sabia se ainda corriam risco ou se jason ficaria bem. talvez fosse esse o momento em que sua sabedoria falharia com ele, talvez não tivesse dado remédio suficiente ou o remédio errado e seu prezado amigo nem acordaria na manhã seguinte. talvez não tivesse percebido algum detalhe sobre a saúde de jason que o fosse levar no meio da noite. os talvez o acompanharam ao tirar a roupa, o acompanharam ao entrar debaixo do lençol da sua cama e o acompanhariam em seus sonhos. 

ele deitou-se virado para a cama de jason, mas não o conseguia enxergar, de qualquer jeito. logo quando começaram a dividir a casa, que por via das dúvidas, era minúscula, ele foi o primeiro a dar a ideia de usar um armário velho e um lençol para fazer algum tipo de divisão no quarto e há um bom tempo ele já se arrependia. com certeza aquela não foi sua escolha mais sábia e agora ele talvez não fosse mais ter a oportunidade de mudar de ideia. 

DIA 2.

nicolás sempre acordou cedo, era natural para ele. escutou o sino da igreja próxima tocar e ele, com seu sono leve, se pôs de pé. observou enquanto se vestia que jason ainda estava dormindo. bom. a dose ainda não havia passado e pelo que parecia, a noite havia sido tranquila. 

ele largou todos os seus afazeres, botou uma placa de fechado na frente de casa, onde normalmente atendia enfermos tão pobres quanto eles e correu para o outro lado da praça principal onde a padaria que jason trabalha fica. tratou de avisar o chefe, que não ficou muito gostoso, mas que aceitou ao nicolás dizer que o homem poderia ir ver o empregado a hora que quisesse. felizmente, o homem barbudo preferia aceitar do que se locomover algumas quadras. 

nicolás voltou para casa de mãos cheias, tendo usado suas últimas moedas para comprar um pedaço de pão, uma garrafa de leite e um pote de mel. o mel era para os machucados, mas dependendo de quanto jason pedisse, nico deixaria que ele usasse no pão. ele nunca foi um homem extremamente rígido e jason tinha o dom de amolecer ainda mais o coração e as supostas regras impostas por ele. 

a casa ainda estava silenciosa quando ele chegou, mas meros segundos após ele chegar, um estrondo seguido de um baque surdo fizeram nico largar tudo correndo na mesa da cozinha e seguir pelo corredor até o quarto. 

— eu disse que você não podia levantar ainda! — ele quis gritar, quis ser rígido, mas não conseguiu. jason havia tentado se apoiar no armário que separava as camas de ambos e acabou derrubando um vaso de flores que tentava, falhamente, decorar o quarto sem vida. 

— eu lembrei de algumas coisas, acordei assustado e… — sua voz ainda estava fraca, mas agora ele tinha um pouco mais de certeza nas palavras. — foi uma briga de bar, eu acho… 

— o que? te torturaram por causa de uma briga de bar? — aquilo não fazia sentido para nicolás e ele não fazia questão de esconder. seu olhar incentivava o loiro a seguir falando, mas sua prioridade era ajudar ele a voltar para a cama.

— não! não foi exatamente assim, eu não estava no bar. o senhor walton pediu para eu ficar até mais tarde trabalhando, eu acabei saindo muito tarde, já tinha passado da meia noite quando eu resolvi voltar. — nicolás não se orgulha disso, mas quando jason não voltou naquela noite, uma pequena parte dele sentiu ciúmes. agora ele se arrepende de ter pensado o que pensou. — eu só vi quando eles me cercaram e… 

— você não precisa continuar… — ele começou, mas foi interrompido antes de terminar. 

— eles acharam que eu era o príncipe adonis.

o silêncio tomou conta do quarto. nico ficou encarando o amigo, procurando qualquer sinal de que ele esteja brincando, mas era óbvio que não. ele jamais brincaria com algo assim. o fato de que jason carregava uma semelhança absurda com o príncipe já havia sido muito discutida, o próprio príncipe já havia conhecido sua cópia plebeia, apesar de que havia ficado bem claro que aquele não era um fato apreciado. 

— por que eles fariam isso? — nico perguntou, não mais alto do que um sussurro. 

— eu não sei. — jason sibilou ao tentar dar de ombros, a dor com certeza tomando conta de si. — eles acharam que tinham conseguido sequestrar o príncipe, estavam bêbados e queriam dinheiro. 

— isso não um simples… sequestro. eles quase te mataram. — sabia que havia levantado o tom e sido ríspido demais quando viu que o outro se deixou ser fraco e começou a chorar. de todas as situações possíveis que nicolás havia imaginado durante a noite, enquanto tentava desenhar a sombra de jason dormindo do outro lado do lençol, nenhuma delas chegou nem perto disso. 

ele deixou que jason chorasse por alguns minutos antes de se levantar e ir até a cozinha. da pata direita da pia, dando cinco passos para a frente e um à direita, havia um alçapão escondido. era um buraco pequeno, mas lá estava o bem mais caro de nico: um rifle. ele sabia que não podia esconder a arma de jason se pretendia levá-la para o quarto, então não tentou. 

— eu sei que você está com medo, mas você confia em mim, não confia? — ele saiu falando antes que o outro pudesse pular para conclusões. o medo de ver uma arma poderia cegar ele, mas ainda era nicolás ali. ainda era o homem que havia gasto todo a sua energia em cuidar dele nas últimas vinte e quatro horas, que teve todas as chances de machucá-lo e não o fez. jason apenas concordou e deixou seu olhar fugir enquanto nico largava a arma em cima do armário. 

— eu preciso trocar o seu curativo. — nico já tinha pegado o mel, as ervas e as ataduras limpas. sabia que o processo de limpar os curativos seria longo e doloroso, então optou por fazer as coisas ao contrário do que normalmente fazia. — mas antes você precisa de um banho. eu tentei te limpar o máximo que consegui, mas ainda tem sangue seco no seu pescoço e no seu cabelo. falando no seu cabelo… — ele aos poucos se aproximou, levando a mão com todo o carinho do mundo a cabeça de jason, tocou algumas partes e tentou olhar onde ele estava encostado no travesseiro. estava claramente mal cortado, mas aquilo era o de menos, considerando que eles haviam cortado a pele de jason em vários locais. — a gente precisa fazer algo sobre o seu cabelo. 

jason apenas concordou e nico percebeu que ele havia voltado ao seu estado apático. essas coisas iam e vinham, era normal. nicolás guiou o amigo pela próxima hora, ambos sem falar uma palavra. o espanhol havia esquentado água do lado de fora da casa e a princípio pensou em lavar o cabelo do outro nos fundos da casa, onde tinha mais luz, mas não achou que seria uma boa ideia. acendeu uma lamparina perto da bacia e lavou com calma a cabeça dele. às vezes jason se esquivava, considerando a posição vulnerável que estava: sentado num banco, de costas para nicolás, mas nico era insistente. quando isso acontecia, ele segurava o rosto de jason com calma, olhava nos olhos dele por alguns segundos, esperando que o homem voltasse a si. que as memórias parassem um pouco. nesse ritmo, lento e preciso, nico conseguiu lavar o cabelo dele e depois tentar alinhá-lo com uma tesoura. algumas partes doíam, por causa dos machucados e nessa questão ele não insistiu muito. 

— obrigado. — foi tudo que jason disse quando nico terminou de secar sua cabeça. o mais velho ainda estava sentado atrás dele e portanto eles não estavam se olhando diretamente. — obrigado por cuidar de mim, sei que estou tomando seu tempo e…

— não. — nico o cortou. tudo que ele menos precisava agora é que o loiro se culpasse. — você não toma meu tempo. você faria o mesmo por mim, não é? 

— sim, mas…

— mas? 

jason apenas negou com a cabeça e nico o deixou. o que quer que eles tivessem para conversar poderia esperar, como estava sendo adiada há muito tempo. 

de novo deitado, jason não falou uma palavra enquanto nicolás trocava suas ataduras. era óbvio que doía, o tecido grudando nos machucados e nos pontos, precisando ser retirados com toda a calma do mundo por nicolás, que observava cada mínima reação para tentar evitar que aquilo tudo piorasse. voltou os mesmos remédios de antes e o mel. 

— eu trouxe pão e leite. está com fome? — e em resposta, o estômago de jason roncou em alto e bom som.

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mais tarde naquela noite, ambos já estavam deitados em suas camas e quase dormindo, mas algo ainda incomodava nicolás.

— você não devia ter aceitado ficar até mais tarde naquele lugar. o seu chefe é um ser humano horrível. 

o silêncio se prolongou por um tempo a ponto de nicolás achar que o outro já havia dormido, mas jason não dormia tão fácil e ele não havia posto sonífero dessa vez. 

— eu perderia o emprego se dissesse não. você sabe disso. — jason pareceu irritado com o comentário do outro, mas ele sabia que nico carregava uma teimosia imensa e aquilo não era suficiente para ele.

— talvez você não devesse trabalhar lá. — nico já pensava nisso há muito tempo, mas tinha receio de comentar.  — peça demissão. 

uma risada veio antes da resposta de jason: — e o que você sugere que eu faça da minha vida? 

— é óbvio, não é? abra uma padaria aqui em casa.

— nicolás… 

nico soube automaticamente que havia tocado com toda a sua força em um machucado ainda aberto. jason já tinha tido uma padaria antes e foi assim que eles se conheceram. ele ainda morava com a sua família e trabalhava com seu pai, dedicando seus dias a fazer o que amava e fazendo do seu jeito. e é claro, nicolás lembra com a maior clareza do mundo do dia em que eles se conheceram. ele tinha acabado de voltar da guerra, estava descontente com tudo e com todos e desejava imensamente voltar para o seu país de origem um dia. trabalhava igual um cavalo, dia e noite, como ferreiro na esperança de juntar dinheiro o suficiente para embarcar de volta para a espanha. esse plano desandou quando conheceu jason. era o homem mais lindo do mundo inteiro e de repente sua vontade de ir embora sumiu e sumia toda vez que ele gastava libra atrás de libra comprando tudo e qualquer coisa que jason produzia. eles viraram amigos rapidamente e ainda eram amigos quando a padaria fechou. 

as vezes que nicolás deixou claro para jason que a culpa em nenhum momento foi dele ou de sua capacidade foram incontáveis. era importante que o outro soubesse disso. 

— eu não estou brincando. tente novamente. 

— eu já falhei uma vez. — foi tudo que jason respondeu, mas nico não estava feliz. 

ele se levantou rápido e impulsivamente, sentindo sua visão ficar preta por um segundo. a determinação sumiu do seu corpo antes mesmo que ele pudesse puxar o lençol da sua frente. alguns segundos se passaram antes que ele se sentisse estúpido. o que faria se passasse dali? tomaria, finalmente, a coragem de dizer tudo que pensa para jason? tiraria todo aquele peso de seu peito que insistia em lhe incomodar?

— nico…? — sua voz foi um sussurro, puxando o espanhol de volta para a realidade. claro que jason podia ver ele ali, ponderando entre o que fazer. — eu nunca gostei desse lençol. 

— nem eu. — confessou também, tirando o tecido do seu caminho, podendo finalmente ver o outro. aquilo não o ajudou muito, sentindo o afeto que nutria pelo outro queimar no seu peito ao vê-lo ali. quando tudo isso passasse, nicolás se perguntaria como que conseguiu cuidar dele sem sofrer junto. 

— pense sobre isso. eu vou te ajudar quando puder. 

— não quero falar sobre isso, não mais. por favor. 

e nico acatou, como sempre fazia. se fosse daquela maneira, tudo bem, mas aquela resposta não acalmava seu coração. as implicações de como jason ficaria quando ele fosse embora haviam mudado. aquele era para ser seu melhor amigo. nas peças e livros que nico havia lido, um homem como nicolás deveria descrever jason como um irmão. alexandre dumas, charles dickens, ernest hemingway e muitos outros já haviam escrevido amizades como a deles, mas nunca terminaram como nico queria que terminassem. será que esses homens sabiam da existência do amor que nicolás nutria por jason? será que eles sabiam que homens como nicolás jamais descreveriam jason como a outra metade de sua alma e o chamariam de irmão logo em seguida? que se o destino reservasse para nicolás uma vida sem jason, isso simplesmente não lhe bastaria? 

— nicolás? — jason chamou e pela expressão em seu rosto, ficou claro que não era a primeira vez que o chamava. — você pode… pode me dar remédio para dormir? eu estou sentindo muita dor. 

a resposta certa seria não, mas a clareza de que nunca poderia dizer não a jason já havia tomado conta dele. 

— claro. 

nicolás deitou ao lado de jason após dar o remédio eles dormiram juntos, o sono tomando conta de nico bem depois do que o normal. 

DIA 3.

nicolás acordou com o barulho da porta dos fundos batendo. ele saltou da cama apenas quando viu que jason já não estava ao seu lado. pavor tomou conta do seu corpo, automaticamente se culpando: se haviam entrado aqui e pegado jason novamente, como que ele não havia acordado? saiu correndo da maneira que pôde, sem sapatos e com rifle em mãos, pronto para atirar em quem aparecesse na sua frente. 

os fundos da casa deles era um chão de terra, molhada pela chuva constante, um banco velho embaixo da janela e um cocho que há muito não via comida pela ausência de um cavalo, pois o último que nicolás tinha foi vendido no último aniversário de jason. 

esperava tudo, menos ver jason sentado no banco, como se não estivesse completamente remendado, chorando enquanto olhava para um pedaço de papel que ele conhecia muito bem e achava estar guardado muito bem. 

— onde você achou isso? — com certeza não foi o seu momento mais inteligente, escolhendo mal suas palavras. 

— você vai embora?

não havia hora certa para contar para o seu amigo machucado e traumatizado que você tinha comprado as passagens para a espanha. não havia momento certo para contar ao homem que você ama que você o ama e apesar disso o vai deixar sozinho. 

— eu… — jogou seu corpo no banco ao lado de jason, encostando o rifle do seu lado no banco. — eu vou. — automaticamente a expressão de dor e traição tomou conta do rosto de jason, seus olhos com claras lágrimas. — são muitos motivos, não é apenas porque eu quero. eu recebi uma carta da coroa, eles estão me expulsando do país, eles não querem que eu siga praticando… meus trabalhos aqui.

— e você não pensou em me contar isso antes? nicolás eu… 

— você o que, jason? — agora nicolás estava com um pouco de raiva. ele não devia nada ao outro, na verdade não devia nada a ninguém e tinha feito questão disso. — o que mudaria se eu tivesse lhe contado antes? seria só mais tempo para você ficar me olhando com essa cara. — nicolás arrancou o papel das mãos do amigo, botando o rifle no seu ombro novamente e estendendo a mão livre para que o outro pegasse. — e eu achei que tinha deixado bem claro que você não pode se mexer, muito menos se arrastar até aqui fora. está frio! você quer pegar uma gripe e morrer? — a bravura na sua voz era inexistente, deixando bem claro que estava preocupado apenas. 

DIA 6.

três dias haviam se passado e nada havia melhorado, como nico sabia que ia acontecer. jason é bom demais para fingir que a notícia da partida de nicolás não havia o afetado. nada daquilo melhoraria até que ele estivesse em um navio para o outro país. ou talvez isso só fosse piorar tudo. talvez jason iria o atormentar eternamente. de qualquer modo, ele precisava tentar e descobrir. 

— voltei! — jason já estava um pouco melhor, já conseguia caminhar normalmente e já conseguia limpar seus machucados sozinho, então nico voltou a anunciar quando estava em casa. 

— de onde você tirou esses livros? — foi a primeira coisa que jason perguntou quando nico pisou no quarto deles, segurando dois dos quinze livros que o espanhol tinha guardado.

nicolás havia começado a fazer as malas dois dias antes, não era muita coisa como sempre, mas agora ele estava juntando toda a sua vida para levar para outro país. precisava de mais organização. 

— eu roubei. — ele deu de ombros, sorrindo ao ver jason deixar seu queixo cair, surpreso com esse lado secreto de quem conhecia tão bem. — antes de trabalhar como ferreiro eu trabalhei como jardineiro. pessoas ricas tem muitas coisas que dão valor e vão perceber imediatamente quando forem roubadas, mas livros normalmente não faz parte dessa lista. e você tem que saber quais roubar e tudo… mas é, roubados. 

— você nunca me disse que tinha livros. — jason pareceu um pouco chateado com isso, mas não era nada muito profundo. 

— você nunca perguntou. — ele deu de ombros, tentando ignorar a leve melancolia que tomou conta dele. — fique com eles��� os livros. — nico separou a pilha de livro de suas coisas e botou do lado de jason do quarto. — será meu presente de despedida. vou arranjar livros na minha língua materna quando chegar lá. — a dor que sentia em dizer tais coisas com certeza não tinha nada a ver com seu apego aos livros — agora chega disso, vamos jantar. eu comprei batatas novas.

foi durante a janta, ambos a mesa, que jason falou:

— eu… eu posso ir com você. 

não foi uma pergunta, mas mesmo assim nicolás respondeu com rispidez e certeza. 

— não. — ele negou com a cabeça e seguiu comendo, como se dizer aquela palavra de três letras não fosse contra tudo que ele queria dizer naquele momento. 

— nicolás, aqui não é seguro- 

— não. você não vai comigo. se mude para o país de seus pais, vá para a frança. você se daria muito bem na frança, sabia? ��� nico seguia comendo, observando seu prato com a maior atenção do mundo. — mas não para a espanha. 

— olhe para mim. — o pedido veio com uma voz calma, diferente do rumo que a voz do espanhol estava tomando. 

— você não pode fazer isso comigo, jason… — foi quase uma súplica. apenas de olhar nos olhos azuis do outro, nico soube que não poderia ir embora sem deixar as coisas claras. — eu vou tomar isso como uma chance de recomeçar, de esquecer você. não peça para ir comigo. 

— você quer me esquecer? 

— sim. 

— por que? — agora sim jason estava machucado, no escuro e sem entender o que havia feito para o amigo para receber uma reação tão drástica. por mais óbvios que seus sentimentos por nicolás fosse, ele jamais imaginou que o outro iria correr dele daquela maneira. ele nunca imaginou um final feliz para eles, mas sempre esteve longe daquilo. 

— amar você é a coisa mais fácil e desesperadora que eu já fiz. eu me pergunto se você sabe o que significa quando eu tento de todas as maneiras afastar você de mim. você sabe? — jason apenas negou, tentando processar as palavras que tinha acabado de ouvir. — não é porque eu te quero menos. é porque eu te quero tanto que acho que o mínimo passo em falso vai fazer você fugir de mim. 

— então você vai fugir? 

— você sabe que eu não estou apenas fugindo. 

— está sim! — jason não havia gritado com nico há tanto tempo que o ato fez com que ele encolhesse os ombros. a comida estava na mesa, há muito esquecida. — você pode usar qualquer desculpa que você quiser, mas você está indo embora por um motivo muito claro! e é por minha causa. você quer olhar nos meus olhos e me dizer que está fazendo isso para me esquecer? como você ousa dizer isso se nunca ao menos teve a coragem de me beijar? 

aquilo quebrou nicolás e qualquer fachada que ele tentou manter. foi o suficiente para ele se sentir a pior pessoa do mundo. ele quis beijar jason desde o primeiro momento em que se conheceram e não o fez por medo. medo das implicações de um beijo correspondido acima de qualquer medo de rejeição. nunca houve medo de rejeição pois nico sabia que o que quer que sentia, jason sentia o mesmo. então quando ele tomou o rosto do loiro e o beijou, nico sabia que seria correspondido. sabia que não poderia voltar atrás, que não importa o quão longe ele fosse, ele jamais esqueceria jason. 

DIA 44.

— eu sinto que você ama mais essa cavalo do que eu. — jason observava nico escovando o animal de pelagem castanha da porta da casa deles. o sol da espanha batia forte na cabeça de nicolás ele sabia que já deveria ter entrado há uns bons minutos. 

— não me peça para escolher entre você e strawberry. não temos dinheiro para mandar você de volta para a inglaterra. — nico tirou suas compras das costas do animal, entrando em casa e sentindo o alívio ao estar na sombra novamente. 

— como estão as coisas na cidade?

— a senhora martinez pediu que você faça mais dois pães de nozes, o senhor e a senhora gomez querem aqueles negocinhos pequenos… os…

— croissants? – a voz de jason vinha da dispensa, já separando algumas das compras para começar a produção de pedidos na primeira hora da tarde, para que desse tempo de nico voltar na cidade com tudo pronto e fresquinho. 

— isso mesmo, croissants! eles querem trinta desses para um chá da tarde amanhã, então esses eu levo amanhã de manhã… a esposa do barbeiro - 

— marta? 

— isso, marta! ela quer uma torta de maça com conhaque. tem também pedido de cinquenta pães para a padaria do centro da cidade, eles disseram que pagam mais dessa vez e eu disse que falaria com você primeiro.

— cinquenta é muito, eles vão ter que pagar bem. — jason parou para comentar, antes de voltar para a dispensa com ainda mais coisas. strawberry era um cavalo forte.

— quinze por cento a mais do que da última vez foi a oferta deles. 

— diga para eles que pode ser, mas você vai ter que me ajudar! - o grito de aviso veio antes de jason voltar para a cozinha. nicolás odiava cozinhar, mas ele fazia o melhor quando o assunto era ajudar o outro nas encomendas que tinha. 

ele estava morto de cansado, o caminho entre a casa deles e a cidade levava mais que quarenta minutos e ele o fazia de manhã e de tarde, fazendo o máximo para manter os clientes felizes. seu corpo doía por inteiro, mas nico era um homem forte o suficiente para não se ver cansado, pelo contrário. toda vez que via jason na porta de casa o esperando sabia que precisava repor as energias o mais rápido possível para que toda vez ele pudesse puxar o outro pela cintura para mais um beijo para a lista de tantos outros. para poder sentir o corpo dele grudado ao seu, justificando todo o resto.

— ouvi dizer que você criou confusão com o joalheiro. — jason comentou, entre um beijo e outro, fazendo nico se afastar levemente, com um sorriso culpado. 

— isso foi ontem de tarde, como que essa fofoca chegou aqui tão rápido? — mas ele sabia, é óbvio que nicolás sabia da índole fofoqueira de vários vizinhos dali, de alguns em específico. — não foi uma confusão… — ele começou a se explicar, ignorando a expressão de desdém de jason. — ele só não para de insistir em saber para quem eu dei aquela aliança. 

nico não precisava olhar para saber que a aliança estava no dedo de jason. 

— e o que foi que você disse para ele? 

— com certeza não que eu dei ela para o meu… parceiro de negócios.

[daincrediblegg]

JFJ + to shut them up (please ily)

James loathed nothing more than a pause in conversation. It was an absurd anxiety, he knew, but he'd always tried to fill it. It became easier when he had a wealth of valorous stories to fill that silence with, ones that in good company would find amicable laughter, spark anecdotes from his peers (men and women, who in truth he never felt an equal to), but it never gave him long enough to think about what they must think of him. In his youth, a silence was the sound only of an elephant in the room, and more often than not, that elephant was his, carried it around like a dutiful pet, feeding it the more he told his stories, the more he held up his glorious existence on display. It never sated the silly thing, in the end. The quiet would always come after one way or another. But at least he alone would sit with it, and not another.

He felt lucky, when he realized he didn't have to hide that from you, from Francis, two of the precious few people he could call true friends to him. The silence was comfortable around you. Perhaps for the first time in his life there was a safety in the lull that found him in your company, in your knowing what hung over his shoulders. You didn't need to hear his acts of valor to love him, nor would the truth of him dissuade you from it. Either of you.

And years he never felt the need to don his mask, but on his return to England, it found him again all the same. It found him tonight, stuffed into his naval blue coat and pauldrons, medals and gold hanging off him and trapping him in it. And the need made itself known again. Helpless to recount "that damned sniper story" again, as Francis so liked to remind him. But somehow, the words didn't come as easy as they used to. He found himself pausing more often than not, the flare in his voice gone. But he pressed through, despite so desperately wanting to tell what came of the wound. What scurvy had done to it. But that wouldn't be very pleasant conversation, would it?

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his train of thought. His head snapped to find a kind smile, and something of a knowing look in your eyes, peering up at him.

"James, may I borrow you for a moment? I'm afraid it's urgent."

Your eyebrows raised as you nodded towards the door. He nods his excuse to the party of invisible faces he found himself surrounded by, muttering a quiet "of course" before following you into another room, unoccupied, and dark, secluded.

"What is it? Are you all right? Is Francis-" is all he had the time to say before he was forcibly silenced by your quiet caring lips, slotting over them. He felt his heartbeat pick up a moment as your lips lingered, then as he settled into your soft embrace, felt it slow. Parting he found he could not produce another word for a moment.

"Shhh... it's all right James," you crooned, a gentle hand on his cheek, tracing his dimple with your thumb.

"You were doing it again. Looked like you needed saving."

He chuckled a little at that, half out of nerves, half from relief. How many times had you and Francis teased him for that damned sniper story? Too many to count by now.

"I suppose... I was," he sighs, leaning into your touch, close enough to touch his nose with yours. He breathed again, soaking in the blessed quiet, the faint chatter from the party outside feeling far away now.

"Thank you."

You nod, hand reaching to the back of his neck to pet the curls that draped below. He let your quiet reassurance embrace him, wrap him up and calm him, enough his eyes softly shut in contentment for a moment, and then a few more.

"We can leave, you know," you said once the time had passed enough, and James' eyes fluttered open to yours, doe-eyed and concerned and content. Now that was a thought. He'd been so wrapped up in his words, in his nerves, in truth, that he hadn't fully considered that as an option. He considered it seriously now, as you looked at him encouragingly.

"Shall we go?" you ask. James smiled. A sincere one. One that he'd only ever shown to two individuals in his whole life. He smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Please, I... I don't think I have the stomach for much more of this."

You returned his smile, and kissed his cheek again, soundly.

"I'll go get Francis. Get our coats and we'll meet you by the door."

He enjoyed how you gave orders. They always sounded so pleasant he couldn't help but widen his smile to know such care as this. He kissed his confirmation to the corner of your mouth gently, before withdrawing again.

"Don't be long."

"We won't."

Your hand grazed his cheek softly as you went, making its absence even fonder. He stood a moment, plucking up his courage from the floor where you had draped it, and made his exit a short moment after, heading towards the hall where a footman retrieved your coats for him to carry as he waited, already having put on his own.

He was only stood there a few short minutes before hearing the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and James turned to find you and Francis, walking arm in arm towards him. A great sigh left the older man's lips as he trekked down the hall to him, relief washing over his shoulders as he dropped the straightness in his back and square in his shoulders.

"Thank bloody Christ that's over," Francis groaned, eliciting a faint chuckle from his walking partner that made him smile.

"You can say that again," you replied, taking your coat from James' hands, wrapping it around your shoulders with grace and gloved hands. Francis reached next for his own, fingers gripping James' arm gently as he plucked his own coat, lingering a moment.

"All right, James?" he asks, his eyes warm, searching, concerned, glinting a warm pale blue in the candlelight. James nodded, soundlessly save the the small whimper that escaped him in the effort. Francis nods his understanding, a warmth renewing his grip before letting go to don his own coat.

"Home then?" Francis asks. James smiles with thoughts of fireplaces, and a shared warmth, and quiet.

"Yes. Home."

[visionkept]

Tackled 10 projects + papers ( the midterms experience ) and all I got in return was a four days weekend and two earthquakes in my city lol. I'll be sort of "free" up to wednesday at least ! So finally, FINALLY, I can try to write in peace. With the new resurgence of g.enshin blogs and come backs, I got the goal to release Tomo's new blog once and for all before it is too late. And with too late, well, I'll release some thoughts under the cut that got a little bit of vent so feel free to escape that part if it's not of your liking.

My hope of Tomo becoming playable are pretty much gone so I'm starting to consider once and for all to make Tomo my oc ( unaffilated to hoyo and g.enshin in general tho still having their verses tho won't be the main one anymore ) and call it a day. Might still give it a go as the "g.enshin character" but the moment I hit my breaking point I'll simply reorganize the new blog and make it just an oc.

And as breaking point I mean my limit with dealing with hoyo in general. Idk why my interest is going up and down lately cause I'm excited with Natlan's story so far besides... the obvious things and certain character designs that piss me off. Perhaps my downs come mostly out of the f.andom side and HOW TIRING IT IS. Like, not even with the p.okemon fandom it was this infuriating ? ? ?

I've personally decided that my "breaking point" might be when k.azuha and s.cara meet, which seem to be soon with the constant teasing tbh. In general it wouldn't be so bad if the fandom side ( especially the shipping side / not talking about the rpc - u guys are doing amazing bbys <3 ) was so awful and almost impossible to deal with or avoid. K.azuha has become my favorite character out of nowhere and it's a bit depressing that I can't browse his tag or content without it being 90% s.cara focused / centered and having him be so mischaracterized for shipping purposes. I know that when that meeting happens, it will be 99% and boy I don't want the headaches plus the constant "Tomo is dead give it up" comments will skyrocket for sure.

So yeah, Tomo as "genshin centered" is a ticking time bomb. I really do hope that when natlan ends my brain decides to hyperfixate on another game / character ( and one alive or with content this time ) cause I sure need a break from getting crumbs to almost NOTHING.

Hoyo is soon giving me Tomo's adoption papers and I'm sure signing them. Freeing that enby one of these days.

[kiwibirdlafayette]

chaos and balance- the capsize

"i don't think you understand what's actually happening here. If you'd just open your bloody fucking eyes, it's pretty obvious."

Chaos and Balance is a narrative playlist that basically comprises, in a chronological order, my headcanon for the progression of cTom Syndicate and cJordan's relationship through the course of S1, S2, the divorce arc (post-canon part 1), Mianitian Isles and the Aftermath (post-canon part 2, aka Gays on A Boat, Aitheaca, etc.) It started mainly because I really love the potential of using music to tell stories, and how lyrics can be representative of feelings seldom expressed any other way- based on both canon moments, moments I've interpreted as significant to their relationship/overall arcs, and little interludes I've written that take place in between episodes/"off camera" that connect things together in my head. All this being said, it is primarily headcanons, and is purely for fun. dont like dont read lmao

This specific being how keeping in the canon nonsense of capsize x jordan plays a role in cSyndisparklez from my pov :] enjoy!

(Red lyrics are representative of Jordan’s voice, green is Tom! Bolded black is both of them)

The shenanigans of Capsize happen just after falling for the villain,

in which Jordan is forced internally for the first time to come to terms with the fact that yes, he is in love with his friend/enemy/however you wanna put it. Despite how much he annoys him, despite all of his questionable behavior, despite it all, he has fallen head over heels for this absolute bastard of a man, and hates to admit it, but deep down has longed for a kind of affection that he could have.

I'll take my timeI'm not the forward thinker; you read my mind-

But a part of him still remains hesitant, and for one reason or another, refuses to give in, to openly admit it to not just others but himself. It’s at this point (I’ve written in) that Tom’s kissed him twice. The first, just a little peck on the lips he was able to brush off as a joke, just a hahaa ok cool bro that's funny. But the second time, as a cheap play by the zombie to get a purge kill having already caught the Ianitee off guard. It's irritating for sure, to have him weasel his way into free points by taking advantage of a distraction that worked a little too well, but why could he not get it out of his head? It hadn’t felt so wrong, actually, and… he had almost hoped it had been genuine. If it had been genuine, maybe he would have returned the gesture.

Better to leave it unsaidWhy can't I leave it unsaid

Instead they dance around it in banter, blathering on and on to one another in often complete nonsense, refusing to address what’s really on his mind. (You know I talk too much) He could confess, sure. But what happens then? All the meanwhile, Tom is scared he’s losing him. (As I hold your face, I can't find the words I need, and soon the opportunity is drowning)

Never someone all that good with words, he kind of hopes that Jordan will catch on. He has to catch on, sooner or later.. Right?Z

And then Capsize and the Ianitee pirates show up. To Jordan, it seems like she’s interested in him beyond him just being another follower of Ianite, and there’s his escape. Play along, play the part and maybe- maybe he’ll get over this.

You know my type, tightrope across the table I can't keep holding my breath

She seems to be into it. She’s responding to his flirting at least. See. He doesn’t need Tom. An Ianitee and another Ianitee seems more acceptable to him in his head, and maybe would be easier. That about, he’s not really sure.

New wave, no time Red velvet under pressure

But what Jordan does know is that he’s drawn to her. To him, it could be a way to forget about Tom. To the varied onlooker, it could just be that he’s happy to have another Ianitee around. Someone who can relate to his experience, someone who’s out to find their goddess just as much as he wants to. But he continues to conflate the two and pursue her in a way that he won’t realize for years is less than ideal.

It sparks my memory when we parked aside the shore, I kissed you there, the ocean air enchanting It escapes me quickly

Tom on the other hand, is for lack of a better word furious. Not in like a “I’m gonna murder this pirate captain for stealing my man” (because if he’s honest she’s one of the coolest people he’s met and he’s gonna befriend her whether Jordan likes it or not, with him claiming it to be ‘Mr. steal your gal’ which is??? Because does it really seem like he wants Capsize, if not as a spiteful thing)

When Jordan’s not around, Tom and Capsize hit it off, as she finds this zombie who doesn’t want to flirt with her at any given moment a lot more of an interesting person. As a Dianitee, he’s supposed to be their enemy, but for someone so supposedly dedicated to his god, he knows how to carve his own path away from being more than his god’s messenger- something she’s always admired in champions.

You call me poison, but you won't stop coming around- No, you won't stop coming around

For the purpose of perhaps getting Jordan to get the hint, Tom plays into their supposed love triangle, pretending to do things to ‘steal away Capsize’, only feeding into Jordan’s confusion. *Now Tom’s interested in her too? Is he trying to move on from me too? *- clearly to dense to realize Tom’s trying to get his attention back. She even admits to Tom that it's amusing that men seem to keep coming after her, when she’s very much more into women (abridged, but direct quote)

All I want is you- Your violet disposition, My unsound intuition

It all sort of culminates in that moment on Jordan’s ship where Tom, annoyed from his perch, watches his friend make an absolute fool of himself over Capsize, and decides to intervene, taking on the role of “fighting” Jordan over her. Capsize in a way is having a good laugh watching them roll around on the deck of the ship (I’ve drawn this, this is where it all started), starting to see it all sort of come together as to where Jordan could be coming from. At some point, Tom’s got Jordan pinned to the deck, and as one last desperate attempt at trying to communicate what he’s been trying to all along, he kisses Jordan, and much to his surprise, he kisses him back. They pull away, to Capsize’s approving nods, and it's all over.

(Jordan’s attempts at saving this are my interpretation of this conversation, aka one of my favorite chat threads of S1)

In the aftermath of all of that (If I had any semblance of a memory I’d pinpoint when exactly this interlude takes place, but im just ballparking it somewhere after Jordan dies in Tom’s vault bc Capsize doesn’t save him); in which he’s still thinking about what happened that day. Jordan reluctantly confronts Tom who spills it all. He tells him how much and how long he’s been in love with him, and how frustrated it made him that every time he kissed Jordan, Jordan never seemed to reciprocate no matter how obvious his feelings were. He’s tried so hard to make it clear that all he wants is Jordan, he wants to be loved back, he wants to be able to call him his lover. He did what he did in front of Capsize cause the fake ass courting set him over the edge because it pissed him off that Jordan would so quickly go after someone he just met just because she was an Ianitee or whatever to get away from him, because was he really that bad that Jordan had to try to hard to stay away from him? Tom knows he had himself to blame as well, but it felt like a step too far.

Always been looking for something to lose, when I needed something to hold onto.

(This sequence is followed by Pull Me Up, which. If you haven’t seen my CMV that’s the one xD)

Note. For my sanity I choose to perceive that any capsize x jordan moments following are more related to Jordan’s ‘holiest of all Ianitees’ attitude and feeling like he has to be her savior (which is a different aspect of his character arc from the romantic side, which is what I mostly wanted to focus on with this ramble, but i do touch on it a little. It's not as ever present as it could be because I haven’t found the right song to incorporate it into outside of Violet and Talk Too Much) But there is definitely more. This is from what i have notated in my stuff for these two sequences :] enjoy!

[moongothic]

I had a dream last night that Toei had made like a One Piece feature film/animated special about Crocodile and y'all it was fucking weird

You know the brainrot has reached terminal velocity when the blorbo starts appearing in your dreams. (To be fair, I have had about a million other One Piece themed dreams in the past and Crocodile did show up in one once before, like years and years ago (which is slightly deranged considdering I only lost my mind about this man last fall), but still) (I'm just glad this wasn't one of my usual nightmares)

So the set-up for the movie was that a bunch of people, including Crocodile and Daz, had infiltrated somekinda skyscraper because they were on a mission to do... something. I don't remember what their actual goal was, somekinda secret agent kinda bs, but they were there.

The first little bit of the movie was more like a video game where you just had to get deeper and deeper into the tower without getting noticed/found out and it was going decent, though eventually Croc and Daz got separated from one another (can't remember if they got spotted and split intentionally or what)

Crocodile found himself in a weird science-y room that started emitting somekinda pastel rainbow colored hallucinogenic mist that was showing him Visions from the Past to Haunt and Taunt him

And this was kind of where the movie would cut between the other shit that was happening and what Daz was up to while going through the building, and what visions were haunting Crocodile. I can't remember the details anymore for either plot, just that at some point the mist showed Crocodile a young, blond haired Whitebeard

The second last time we cut to Crocodile in the pastel mist, an old man with blond hair appears to him to come taunt him or something, but the scene cuts away before the altercation can begin. What was strange though was that the old man looked almost like an elderly Crocodile (without the scar and with the blond hair)

We cut to Daz and he has made his way to the top of the skyscraper with some people, being chased by their enemies. They're stuck inside the skyscraper though and Daz decides the easiest way to make their exist is for him to literally cut the roof off so he does that in usual One Piece fashion. And then he jumps off the building, doing some flips in the air while turning parts of his body into blades and then back to flesh, which somehow slows down the fall?? And then he just. Lands safely into Ivankov's hair.

??????????? Dream logic don't think about it

Anyway, we cut back to Crocodile and he's having an altercation with the strange old man, which Crocodile wins with strange ease (like this was supposed to be the big, final showdown and it wasn't really either), the old man vanishing into the rainbow mist. The mist then turning thicker and thicker until it consumes everything and Crocodile with it

We then cut to outside the skyscraper where Daz and the others are, where Crocodile has now reappeared, as if he had been teleported there by the mist. But what's strange is that Crocodile is now a child with blond hair.

I don't remember how the movie then ended, I just remember feeling annoyed how although we got a Crocodile-centric OP movie, this would now mean we will never get to see his full backstory because the movie ended up confirming that Crocodile was Whitebeard's bio-son while refusing to spill the beans in detail

IDK I did have more dreams from there on (one of them was about the animated Barbie movies?????????) but I can't remember much anything else, and they weren't related to this OP dream. I'm just. Like I've seen objectively weirder dreams, there's just something about this one that kinda haunts me

[eurosleazarchive]

the ringing of my phone wakes me from whatever light sleep i fitfully fell into earlier. i recognize my brother's name, but i don't answer. it's not that i've been ignoring him for the past two months – it's just that i haven't wanted to talk to him and refuse to answer his messages. it's just how things have always been. i groan as the text notification echoes through my room, bleary eyes scanning through the words.

[ sms: mike ] sadie, you need to answer your phone. i have news.

[ sms: mike ] i'm not gonna tell you it through text.

there's a defeated sigh through my nose before i call him back. must be important if he's being secretive about it. it takes a few rings before he picks it up.

" what the hell's so important you can't tell me over text? " it's irritated, sure, but i haven't slept well.

" sadie. it's about mom. " mike sounds like he's been crying and guilt hits me instantly– any irritation quickly shoots out of my body. i sit up, legs tucking under my body. " she, uh. she passed away in her sleep last night. the housekeeper found her this morning. i know mom's been sick recently but… "

he trails off with a sob and i can't help but let my own out in response. i don't know why i'm crying. all i know is that i am. the tears are hot as they roll down my cheeks, staining the sheets on my lap. i've always felt like i've been grieving some version of my mother. there's the version of her that would have been happy if dad was around; the mother that died isn't the one that i wanted to know.

there's so much i wanna say that i can't. my tongue feels heavy in my mouth. all i can do is hear my brother wail over the phone. " – do you want me to come out there with you? "

" yeah. " he sniffles. i can imagine him running his nose on his arm, just like he did as a kid. " i can't do it without you, sadie. i don't – i don't wanna plan this alone. you can't make me do that. i'll –. "

" michael, relax. i'll just– i'll pack some clothes and what i need and then i'll be back home as soon as i can. i promise. i'm not leaving you alone. "

i've always tried to protect my brother – he can't go through what i went through. he doesn't deserve it. i shoulder the problems and he goes on happy and worry free. i can't shirk my responsibilities now, especially while grieving.

" thanks, sadie. i'll – i'll meet you at the house, okay? we'll go from there. "

" we'll go from there."

he hangs up and the phone drops from my hand into my lap. there's sadness that i feel, something bone deep and tiring, but there's something more than that threatening to bubble up inside me.

my mother died and all i can feel is relief.

[hoohoobeanie]

"gold rush has hit 10k words"

[loomiskiller]

since i have been talking about it, billy does end up killing his father.

years of anger, resentment, and trauma led him to this point. he was visiting home for the weekend with christina. her parents wanted to see their grandchild. billy's uncle was living in town by now too so he figured he would visit him as well. this is post scream 2 and 3 have already happened. billy is in his last year of college. billy has finally cut hank off and they haven't spoken for a while. christina has not bailed on him and sam yet. it's the summer of 2001.

so, he was going to avoid his dad during the entire visit. it is the summer time and he's out with sam. he wanted to take her to the park. he wanted to spend the day out with her. time with sam was always important to billy even though he spends most of his time with her when he is not attending classes or working. they run into hank randomly and billy has to bite his tongue during the entire encounter. hank is extremely rude to his son in front of his own grandchild and billy has to leave mid conversation before he blows up in front of him. he never wants to express his anger in front of sam like that and sam doesn't need to her her grandfather calling her father a disappointment because he had her as a teenager. billy has one degree already and he plans on returning to get another one day. so, no, he is not fully a disappointment. hank doesn't know he's a murderer, but, what right does he have ti judge his son? he is the reason billy turned out the way he did. he is the reason billy strives everyday to be the loving, caring, patient, and doting parent that he wanted hank to be to sam. sam will never know violence like billy did from her parent. she will never hear harsh words or be scolded just because she's being a child. no. as he took sam home to christina's parents house, he slowly began to realize what to do about his father. of course, sam is in the back seat chattering away about some cartoon since billy decided to distract her with the topic from her horrible first meeting with her paternal grandfather. billy decides once he arrives at christina's parents' house that he is going to kill his father.

he decides to go over to visit him. there's knives in the kitchen he can use. he comes in under the pretense of wanting to reconnect with his father. or to at least burn the bridge of their terrible relationship. billy is a good actor. hank is drunk enough that he easily fools him at first. but, then, billy decides to switch tactics and he starts ranting about how hank is a shit father. he points out all of his flaws. yeah, sure, he's a disappointment, but, at least he will never be a father like hank is. billy pisses hank off enough the man gets violent. a fight ensues. billy grabs a kitchen knife to defend himself. he stabs his father fifteen times in self defense.

[waatched]

_WHO'S IN CTRL?

Aiden's face dropped. Aiden’s father? The only one who he really really admired, even if he couldn’t really remember him? But from Aiden’s view... his father was a freedom fighter. Until the end.. He fought for what he had. No. His father was something he’d dream to achieve. Aiden knew he was good. But he could never reach his father’s level.

His name was Edward. Aiden had always idolized him. He couldn’t remember everything about Edward.. but what he did remember were some of the beatings he had receive. They were harsh. But to Aiden.. that meant sucking it up. Fessing up.

How dare this man even try to talk to or about Edward?

He finally replied,

"I'm sorry?"

Aiden stood dumbfounded. Edward meant a lot to Aiden, regardless of the actions he did back in the day.

“Exactly what you think, Pearce. Your father, Edward. He served me well. Until he had to die. And you knew when he passed away, didn’t you? You already had started your career in vigilantism… taking after him. Like father, like son, they say. ”

Quinn knew it all. He knew the vigilante. He knew the old Aiden.

He couldn’t remember one single time where he actually saw Quinn face to face in his whole childhood. In fact, he couldn’t remember his childhood in entirety. It was all a blur. He remembered the lessons he used to pay for himself, but not instances with his father. Nothing. A haze. A long-lasting fog. He never thought about it because he always focused on other jobs. He never had time to reflect on things. Aiden took a deep breath, thinking carefully what to reply to Quinn.

“Whatever my family does — is none of your business. You go out of your way to put this play for Chicagoans to believe, but I see right through the bullshit you spill on radio,”

Aiden was pissed. It showed. He gritted his teeth. Anger showed through his eyes. Shattered glass in his heart. He continued.

“I also know you grew as an orphan, but that’s nothing new. Everyone knows that. You made sure they knew. What they don’t know — is you use this façade to your advantage. Nobody knows your plans. And if they do? — They stay quiet. They know you dominate them.”

That was right. Quinn toyed people. Easily. He had a massive impact on everyone with his tragic, sad story. Yet Aiden didn’t believe it. Not one bit.

[zavr-fara]

——— the Basics.

Full name: Zavr Fara Age: 347 (appears 33) Pronouns: He/him Race: Djinn (elemental; fire affinity) House: Contracted to house Savarem, under Typhon. Bound object: A refined shard of blue sandstone, carved from the desert ruins he once called home.

——— the Story Thus Far.

Djinn are notorious for being headstrong and impulsive, and when you couple that with a centuries-long lifespan, mistakes will eventually be made.

Born to a long and proud lineage, Zavr Fara grew up well-loved and surrounded by family. He's lost count of his siblings and cousins at this point; the Fara branch of the family is close-knit but independent, sometimes going decades without contact only to come back together like no time had passed at all. The turning of seasons and passage of years mean little to beings who easily surpass a thousand, and Zavr was no exception. Mercurial and curious — not to mention powerful, with little sense of or concern for danger — Zavr set out to explore the world at a relatively young age, weaving a wandering path across the globe to see everything there was to see and meet every other species there was to meet.

He should have heeded his family's warnings about the humans, particularly those with dragons' blood and an affinity for war.

Still young and impetuous, the concept of a binding contract meant little to Zavr. What was a hundred, two hundred years of his centuries-long existence when humans' own lives were so brief? Tying himself to a house heir with promises of action and glory was an enticing prospect, and one that seemed to boast few downsides for the djinn eager to make his mark on the world. Ignoring the fine print that would bind him to an entire bloodline over a single discrete lifespan, Zavr pledged himself to House Savarem and altered the course of their shared history for decades to come.

Gifted to the family Savarem's newborn heir, Mallick, Zavr watched the boy grow from a fiery child to a well-respected and expertly trained man — and after no time at all the two rode into battle, shoulder to shoulder, to fight the wars of other houses. Zavr cared little for politics but much for Mallick, willing to follow him to the ends of the earth with or without the power of the djinn contract hanging over him. Their partnership became a thing of legend, dragon rider and djinn, and elevated house Savarem to high esteem in the eyes of house Typhon and the greater continent.

But nothing so glorious was built to last.

Mallick's brief lifespan passed all too quickly for Zavr, particularly as an heir born for battle above all else. Fortunately the dragon rider left behind heirs of his own, a handful of worthy children eager to live up to their father's legendary name, and Zavr respected Mallick's memory enough to be happy to serve them each in turn. Again and again he went to battle for the Western Isles, and again and again he watched the heirs to the Savarem family fall. But humans are resilient and house Savarem was prolific, so even as the decades wore on and Zavr wondered from time to time if the entire family wouldn't be wiped out, they continued to persevere.

Unfortunately, as the decades wore on, house Savarem also began to take their glory and their family's prized weapon for granted. Generations diluted their purpose and honor, and the house Zavr was once proud to serve and be associated with became steeped in politics and corruption. Zavr grew tired of war just as he grew tired of subterfuge and posturing, and the more the family began to treat him as a tool rather than a partner, he found he grew tired of his contract. The final blow to his pride came with his most recent assignment: a family heir born human, with none of the proud dragons' blood in his veins or any of its fire in his heart. In a time of relative peace Zavr was given the position of bodyguard and glorified babysitter, contracted to serve the man-child with grit teeth and suffer abuses he was magically bound not to retaliate against. He watched the family's other heir, Kaya, grow up bold and rebellious and with much more of the family's old spirit that Zavr wished they would reclaim.

So when Kaya came to him one night, as her half-brother was indisposed at the bottom of some bottle or between someone else's sheets, Zavr didn't hesitate to agree to abandon the family and run away with her.

Contracts can be flexible if you know which loopholes to thread, and as long as Zavr serves a Savarem, his vow remains unbroken. He may be incapable of raising a hand against the family until his 200 years' servitude is up, but that doesn't stop him from joining Kaya in plotting future vengeance — as well as pursuing ways to undo the djinn's now-unwilling captivity.

With only a couple weeks of relative freedom under his belt, Zavr is taking to the mundanity surprisingly well. War-tired and sick of violence, he’s free to appreciate the simpler things the village of Elissa has to offer. Extensive knowledge of arms and metalwork made employment with the local blacksmith the obvious choice, though it’s often that the djinn has to remind himself to keep his fire abilities tucked away until he’s working alone. For now, the quiet life suits him — until his impulsiveness or fugitive status make ‘quiet’ an impossibility.

@kaya-savarem