#of the truly rambling variety

[pamshindouu]

Aside from the "reverse Frontier" thing I've mentioned before, something that's pretty high on my list of things I'd like to see in future Digimon anime is a story set in a world where humans and digimon live together.

A bunch of thoughts under the cut, because I got a little too excited and wrote too much (this is pretty long and probably doesn't make much sense, just me thinking out loud, also spoiler warning for... a little bit of everything I guess? Nothing too major except for some Savers stuff... I think):

It's something I've been wanting ever since I was a small child watching the 02 epilogue and thinking the following season would continue the story with the next generation living in a world where every human has a digimon partner (I still remember how disappointed I was when "Digimon 3" as they called it started airing and it was a completely different story dfgj), and I keep wanting it more and more especially as recent seasons have stopped doing the "humans and digimon must separate" thing at the end and instead started allowing the kids and their partners to stay together more often (with Ghost Game ending on a somewhat similar note to 02 with the promise of a new world where humans and digimon coexist).

I know there are some games that have sorta similar concepts, like humans living in the Digital World alongside the digimon and all that, and I haven't played any of those yet so I can't say for sure but... as far as I can tell they're not really the same thing? Like they're not really focused on exploring that setting, and it's still the Digital World similar to what we know. Still, I should probably look into those eventually. I'm sure I'm missing out on some great stuff.

I just think there's so much potential in that concept, with how different yet similar digimon and humans are, and how contrasting their societies and perspectives can be. We've been shown how digimon struggle to adapt to life in the human world, how their views tend to conflict with those of humans, who on their part struggle to accept any reality different from the one they know.

(I was just remembering the case with the Sorcerimon in Hacker's Memory who wanted to work at the hospital. When he said he wasn't sure if humans would accept having a digimon working at a human hospital, my heart sank a little. Because I was sadly reminded of how very similar situations happen in real life with actual real people. If humans struggle to accept differences within their own species, I can only imagine how much messier the situation would get with an entirely different, yet equally intelligent one...)

Of course ideally I would prefer this world to be free of any such conflicts, just an ideal society where the two species coexist in harmony. That'd be nice. But this is Digimon, so I'm sure they would want to explore that angle as well, and not just have everything work out perfectly. And there's potential for some really powerful storytelling if they do decide to go down that route. Ghost Game handled that subject pretty well with the multiple instances of digimon trying to help humans in some way but failing to communicate properly or misunderstanding the way humans do things, or managing to do it right but having their help rejected by humans who were too afraid of these strange creatures to let themselves be helped. There were also plenty of evil digimon, of course. Just like there are plenty of evil humans (a particular villain from another season comes to mind).

Something else I've been curious about is the concept of human-digimon families. Ghost Game had Gammamon be treated as Hiro's little brother, and it handled that sibling dynamic really nicely. I've also really been enjoying Digimon Knuckles with the father-son dynamic between Gankoomon and Haruka (this reminds me I really need to draw fanart for some of these new manga eventually). Speaking of father-son dynamics, I suppose we also had something kinda similar back in Savers with BanchoLeomon and Masaru, although that's a bit of a special case since that was actually Masaru's father in there, but it was also BanchoLeomon since they were sharing a body (another concept that fascinates me, but it has nothing to do with this topic). Two dads in one I guess. And of course we also had Ikuto who was raised in the Digital World and had both a mother figure in Yukidarumon and a father figure in Mercurymon (there's also something really amusing about the fact that the main trio's digimon partners were raised in the human world and could in a way be considered more human than Ikuto who was raised as a digimon, another fascinating situation). Imagine how many more interesting family dynamics we could get in a world where the two species live together, where a digimon adopting a human into their family, or vice-versa, would probably be a pretty common occurrence.

And on the topic of families, I also wonder what life would be like for humans and digimon who happen to fall in love and want to share a life together. Would human/digimon marriage be a thing? Or would these relationships be frowned upon? If I had to guess, I'd say other humans would likely have a problem with it, as humans have historically been known to be very concerned about who other people love, but maybe digimon would be more accepting of it. After all, digimon themselves come in so many shapes and sizes. And I imagine with how complicated humans are, the digimon who share a world with them have more important things to worry about...

How would governments work in this world? Would power be equally divided between digimon and humans? Would some areas be more dominated by humans and others by digimon? Would this have an impact on the specific cultures and laws of each place? I'm not sure if they would go very in depth into this particular topic, but it would be interesting to see all the different individual cultures that would exist in this world, born from the mix of human and digimon traditions, and influenced by which species is more predominant in each area. I guess it would also depend on the origins of this particular world, if it was originally the human world that the digimon were transported into, or the other way around, or the result of both worlds physically merging together. It would also vary depending on which version of the Digital World got thrown into this I suppose. So many possibilities...

And this is a bit of a weird idea, but in a world where humans and digimon just coexist and share everything in their day to day lives... could human-digimon hybrids be a thing? Either as a product of science, or magic, maybe strange new evolution mechanics or just... general Digimon shenanigans? We've had somewhat similar concepts in the past but I think we have yet to see a being that is full-on half human half digimon? Not a being that can change between both forms but one that's just both at the same time. From birth. Don't think we've had that, but someone please correct me if I'm wrong. I'm just wondering if these could perhaps become a somewhat common occurrence in this hypothetical world. And how things would be like for them, as entities that effectively bridge the gap between both species, and could be seen as the future of this world. Would they just be having constant existential crises, not knowing exactly where they belong (also kind of like Ikuto, I suppose)? I think something like that could make for an interesting plot point in this setting, perhaps.

So far I've been thinking of this world as the result of humans and digimon coming in contact with each other after having always existed separately, but what if they had instead always been together? Would all the conflicts I previously wondered about not exist, or would it all just be the same? I'm now thinking about the lore in Digimon Survive where both worlds were originally one and then got split in half. What if it was a similar situation but where that separation never happened? OR what if it did but then they were united again (pretty much like what happens at the end of Survive in most routes, with varying results)? How would all these different circumstances affect the appearance and rules of this world?

I also wonder how the concept of partnerships would work here. Obviously this depends on the setting to begin with, we could be talking about fated soulmate type bonds like the ones in Adventure and Survive or something that is entirely decided by the individuals themselves. But what I'm wondering specifically is how these would work alongside other relationships between humans and digimon. I love it whenever we get to see human characters interact with digimon other than their partners, or when they're able to switch partners in certain circumstances (Ghost Game had some really cool instances of this, and I'm also remembering that one battle in Xros Wars against Yuu, the one where it's revealed at the end that they had swapped all their digimon around THAT WAS SO COOL), and it would be really interesting to see situations like that in this particular setting! Like, idk, you could have a human and a digimon who are partners and love each other a lot but also have entirely separate lives aside from that and have different friend groups made up of both humans and digimon, who are not all necessarily partnered up with each other either. So many fun interesting scenarios to explore!

Anyway... this has gotten a little long hasn't it? I just have a lot of thoughts on this. I think it's a concept with so much potential and I wanna see it so bad...

[mvalentine]

was serving slutty steve jobs for my presentation on apple today <3

oh my fuckin god she fuckin ded 💤

[teeayohess]

i'd love to use a custom bodyshape for z bc i have. very specific headcanons. but 1) i'm picky and none of the options i've seen are Right; and 2) it would also severely limit her clothing options. which is half the fun for me :(

[bathroomcorpse]

i just do not understand thinking the show will sand down the edges of the books when they have repeatedly shown they are much more interested in sharpening those edges

[autism-disco]

sometimes i think i’m a fully proper binary guy. and then i think about gender for a minute too long and

[shawolsos]

Are there more queer kids in Catholic schools or do Catholic school queers just have a better instinct for finding each other

[beatcroc]

you ever think about how gerome and fake pep are the only two guys who really only ever knew the tower as their home? i do

lots of fp text in this one so full un-ciphered script is going under cut below. [mostly just a bunch of headcanon nonsense about his whole Situation in the tower :p] [there is also a second bonus after because i am insufferable] anyway,

bonus:

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo] [gerome]<- u are here [noisette again]

gerome: i say there monstrosity! do you know the times? fp: …? gerome: haha! just an old joke, lad. gerome: but seriously, i never saw you around the tower much. what's your deal? fp: ... fp: 👈 ?? gerome: yes you! you never struck me as just some hired goon like the rest. fp: i… i don't really know. gerome: oh come now, you needn't be modest. fp: i'm not! i- [fp takes a seat] fp: they…. didn't tell me much. the…the lab. you know it? gerome: i'd pass though, now and again. fp: i was there for awhile, with lots of other copies gerome: oh, you knew the other clones? what were they like? fp: nutritious. gerome: ah. fp: they-the tall one- moved me to….「bruno's」 later. gerome: tall one… you mean pizzahead? fp: uh….right.「pizzahead」 …started changing it. kept changing it. i think i was waiting for something. waiting… to open? but he told me to keep-stay in there. to guard it. was there…longer than the labs but we never got to finish…. but i think we were close. But then「pep- pep: woah. never seen him this chatty gerome: just have to ask the right questions, i suppose pep: I mean, sure but-- wait, you can understand him??? gerome: it's only natural, after all, he is at least in part- part of the tower; made from its power and resources, and so connected with my brother...and to some extent, myself. his speech resonates with the old echoes through its chambers, and while i may not be as omniscient, it has no secrets that would fully elude me. pep: ...uh. ok, sure. what's he saying? fp: ..! fp: XXX! gerome: ah…. seems he's a bit embarrassed. pep: aw. er…look, it may not be my business, but whatever happened in the tower is behind us now, yeah? i know i sure try to forget it too fp: 😬 fp: ...😓👍 [fp turns back to gerome] fp: ............i wasn’t done gerome: he wasn't done. fp: yeah. then 「peppino」 came through. you probably know. hard to miss him. gerome: heh, I'll say. fp: We fought, I stayed…. didn't know anything else until 「pizzahead」grabbed me. fighting more on the roof... fp: You know the rest? you ran out with us... gerome: mhm fp: And… now we’re here. gerome: now we’re here… fp: ...that's all i had. so..... i still don't really know. sorry... gerome: ah, don't be. that's just how it goes, i guess. not much that can be done now... gerome: i suppose we both left some things behind in that tower. i certainly know it can be daunting to leave the fold of familiarity. gerome: but, for what it's worth...i think it’s for the better things worked out for us as they did. fp: yeah…

bonus! 2!!

[fictionalcreator]

Mods are asleep, quick, post the cursed Obligative Modality Japanese conjugations

[jhope-brainrot]

my dream gifsets would simply be highlights of bg dancers in mvs lmao

[spider-stark]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[ldknightshade]

morality: a character creation guide

creating and understanding your oc’s personal moral code! no, i cannot tell you whether they’re gonna come out good or bad or grey; that part is up to you.

anyway, let’s rock.

i. politics

politics are a good way to indicate things your character values, especially when it comes to large-scale concepts such as government, community, and humanity as a whole.

say what you will about either image; i’d argue for the unintiated, the right image is a good introduction to some lesser discussed ideologies… some of which your oc may or may not fall under.

either way, taking a good look at your character’s values on the economic + social side of things is a good place to start, as politics are something that, well… we all have ‘em, you can’t avoid ‘em.

clearly, this will have to be adjusted for settings that utilize other schools of thought (such as fantasy + historical fiction and the divine right of kings), but again, economic/social scale plotting will be a good start for most.

ii. religion + philosophy

is your oc religious? do they believe in a form of higher power? do they follow some sort of philosophy?

are they devout? yes, this applies to non-religious theist and atheist characters as well; in the former’s case… is their belief in a higher power something that guides many of their actions or is their belief in a higher power something that only informs a few of their actions? for the atheists; do they militant anti-theists who believe atheism is the only way and that religion is harmful? or do they not care about religion, so long as it’s thrust upon them?

for the religious: what is your oc’s relationship with the higher power in question? are they very progressive by their religion’s standards or more orthodox? how well informed of their own religion are they?

does your oc follow a particular school of philosophical thought? how does that interact with their religious identification?

iii. values

by taking their political stance and their religious + philosophical stance, you have a fairly good grasp on the things your character values.

is there anything they value - due to backstory, or what they do, or what they love - that isn’t explained by political stance and religious and/or philosophical identification? some big players here will likely be your oc’s culture and past.

of everything you’ve determined they value, what do they value the most?

iv. “the line”

everyone draws it somewhere. we all have a line we won’t cross, no matter the lengths we go for what we believe is a noble cause. where does your character draw it? how far will they go for something they truly believe is a noble cause? as discussed in part iii of my tips for morally grey characters,

would they lie? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? what about commit acts of vandalism? arson? would they kill?

but even when we have a line, sometimes we make exceptions for a variety of reasons. additionally, there are limits to some of the lengths we’d go to.

find your character’s line, their limits and their exceptions.

v. objectivism/relativism

objectivism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “an ethical theory that moral good is objectively real or that moral precepts are objectively valid.”

relativism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “a view that ethical truths depend on the individuals and groups holding them.”

what take on morality, as a concept, does your character have? is morality objective? is morality subjective?

we could really delve deep into this one, but this post is long enough that i don’t think we need to get into philosophical rambling… so this is a good starting point.

either way, exploring morality as a concept and how your character views it will allow for better application of their personal moral code.

vi. application

so, now you know what they believe and have a deep understanding of your character’s moral code, all that’s left is to apply it and understand how it informs their actions while taking their personality into account.

and interesting thing to note is that we are all hypocrites; you don’t have to do this, but it might be fun to play around with the concept of their moral code and add a little bit of hypocrisy to their actions as a treat.

either way, how do your character’s various beliefs interact? how does it make them interact with the world? with others? with their friends, family, and community? with their government? with their employment? with their studies? with the earth and environment itself?

in conclusion:

there’s a lot of things that inform one’s moral compass and i will never be able to touch on them all; however, this should hopefully serve as at least a basic guide.

[fairyhaos]

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.” 

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten. 

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and the love of literature

HELLO, HI... PLEASE READ MY SEBEK ANALYSES, I BEG... HE IS A VERY GOOD BOY THAT IS DESERVING OF YOUR LOVE, I SWEAR HE IS... OTL

[ Sebek and internalized racism / Sebek and his place in the Diasomnia found family / Sebek and his capacity to love ]

YES... It is I, here with yet another Sebek-related ramble. Make yourself comfortable :)) *straps you into a seat and tapes your eyeballs open*

***SPOILERS for the book 7 part 12 (Heartslabyul - Deuce and Cater) update!!***

Okay, SO.

We already know that one of Sebek's hobbies is reading, as is stated in his official in-game profile:

... BUT I DON'T THINK YOU TRULY REALIZE HOW DEEP THIS READING HOBBY GOES. He has several voice lines declaring his love of books and reading. Several of Sebek's peers, including Yuu, Azul, and Jack, gift him books for his birthday. In his free time, Sebek chooses to read books on a variety of topics, including romantic tragedies and textbooks. He doesn't just read the book and then move onto the next thing either; other characters may joke that the only time he is quiet is when he is reading, but Sebek seriously absorbs the information he takes in and reflects on it. He thinks about what happened to the characters, what the lesson of the story is, what the author's intent might have been (in his Nightmare Suit vignettes). He wants to apply the techniques he reads about in books to real life, such as picking up new skills like badminton (Sebek New Year’s Attire voice line), how to maximize his training (Jack gifts him a sports science book for his Union Birthday), of learning to adapt to sudden situations like when he and Silver find an injured baby bat (in Lilia’s Dorm Uniform vignettes).This makes sense, as Sebek is the kind of person who is always striving to improve himself so that he may better serve his liege. Sebek is not a selfish reader. He loves books + picking up new knowledge and actively tries to share that with his loved ones. For example, Sebek has voice lines where he asks the player to share book recommendations so that he may read them tonight (aka basically as soon as possible). When we express confusion between dragons and longs, Sebek offers to visit the library with the player to show them "books suitable for beginners". (That of itself also indicates mindfulness towards people having different levels of proficiency at reading.) He is also shown being eager to fetch books for Silver from a higher shelf--though this is in part because Sebek loves to show off that he is taller--and directs Malleus to a book fair in Foothill Town so that his liege may find new interesting reads. He also pays attention to others’ interests and selects the appropriate reading material—hence why Sebek gifts Jamil a travel book for Jamil’s Union Birthday. According to Sebek, "It was [his] grandfather who taught [him] the joys of reading." Indeed, Baur has read to Sebek and told him (oral) stories since his grandson was a baby. He has continuously gifted Sebek book too, all of which Sebek has kept with him. It is implied that Baur thinks receiving a proper education is important, and even though he has complicated feelings about his one and only child marrying a mere human, he still wanted his grandchildren to be well-educated. Baur always made efforts to read and share stories with Sebek to that end. In book 7, this all comes full circle when Silver is wallowing in despair and Sebek talks some sense into him:

"If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't [...] Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

From this dialogue, we can draw direct parallels with how Baur raised Sebek. In this analogy, Baur = Lilia and Sebek = Silver. Both Baur and Lilia initially have a disdain for humans, have served as soldiers in the royal guard, and have personally suffered due to humans invading their country and pillaging it for resources. Then they are also both forced into circumstances where they have a human child thrust upon them and they have to take some responsibility for said child. Despite that, Baur and Lilia were able to overcome their own prejudices and truly learn to love Sebek and Silver, respectively. Sebek is always in a rush to be better for others. Silver is always worried that he'll never be "enough" for the father that did so much for him. But the difference is that Sebek knows his grandfather loves him because Baur gifted him with knowledge--which is a strength and a power of its own. It's because Sebek is cognizant of Baur's love for him that he's the perfect candidate to call Silver out for being dense. Lilia DID teach Silver. Lilia DID value Silver getting an education. And because of that, Silver is strong. He is strong because of Lilia's love, just as Sebek is strong because of Baur's love and the knowledge that was granted to him. To Sebek, literature IS love. This is a core component of his character--and, additionally, it is a core component of how he understands, navigates, and communicates. (Please refer to the examples I gave in the earlier paragraphs!) Nowhere is this made clearer than at the end of Deuce's dream segment in book 7.

In the dream, Deuce gets into a brawl with some Octavinelle mob students in the NRC library. They chuck various books at each other during the fight, which deeply upsets Sebek. He falls to his knees (like, you can see his tall as fuck model lowering) to check on the books and laments at the damage they've taken.

What really sets Sebek off is when he happens to witness the contents of the thrown books. Simply put, a lot of information is missing. There are several blank pages, and what is there is riddled with errors or is written so crudely it's illegible. Literature, being desecrated in Sebek's presence? NOT ON HIS WATCH. He cannot hold himself back and lets it all out on Deuce, reprimanding his peer for wanting to be an honors student but not having the drive to properly absorb these materials (which, as you'll recall, is something Sebek takes very seriously himself).

Sebek has a very specific definition of what a "book" is. Simply having papers that are bound and have a cover is not a "book". Based on his anger, it seems he very much values the contents. He even alludes to the knowledge gained from reading as being a weapon Deuce can actually use in a fight (which, again, makes sense because of how Sebek often tries to apply what he learns from books to his own life) All of this shouting and scolding does lead to Deuce waking up, but I will be glossing over this part as this is an analysis focused on Sebek and not Deuce. However, there is something that I would like to discuss, and it happens after Deuce is fully awake. The two have a moment to bond over an anomaly of a book they found in the library—the only one that appears to have all its contents intact. It is “The Story of the Trump Soldier”, a famous children’s book from the Queendom. It has various short stories about the card soldiers (whom Deuce idolizes) that serve the Queen of Hearts.

Deuce tells us that, as a kid, he would beg his mom to read the book to him. When he got a little older and learned how to read himself, Deuce would read the book so many times that now it’s just stuck in his head. The fact that it was so perfectly reproduced in his dream is proof that the story holds great significance to him. SEBEK RECOGNIZES AND RESPECTS THAT. He doesn't insult Deuce or look down on him for reading what is "just a children's book". Instead, Sebek comments that something as simple as this can be what sparks one's love for reading. And do you know why Sebek says that... BECAUSE THIS IS PROBABLY TRUE OF HIMSELF 😭😭😭 It was Baur who got him books--probably including CHILDREN'S books--and read to him when he was small... so, as a result, Sebek understands how the mere exposure and finding that one book that hooks you can snowball into a real love for literature. It's not clear if Sebek himself is aware of this parallel since he kinda makes the remark off the cuff but BOY did I sure notice OTL

QEILRQEIYQEPPQEF AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN He suggests that Deuce try picking out a book sometime for his friends, something easy so that even Yuu and Grim can understand it. Sebek gives recommendations like this to Silver (one of the few humans he likes), who can never quite finish reading those books despite his best efforts... Sebek is advising that Deuce do this same thing 😭 THE THING HE DOES HIMSELF FOR A FRIEND, BECAUSE RECOMMENDING A BOOK IS ONE OF THE WAYS SEBEK SHOWS HE CARES.... . .. ..... . ..... . .... . . . . .. . .. .. At the end, Sebek even says that he will read "The Story of the Trump Soldier" when he's awake in the real world. THAT'S HIM ACKNOWLEDGING AND ACTING ON DEUCE'S BOOK RECOMMENDATION TO HIM... meaning that some small part of Sebek is coming to terms with Deuce as a companion... slowly opening up to the idea of having other friends... 🥺 The love for literature that Sebek got from Baur... is now being used as a means to bridge the great divide between Sebek and the peers he used to so brazenly snub and insult before...

If you look back at the voice lines for Deuce’s Birthday Jacket card, he says “Sebek gave me this reference book. He said he highly recommended it... Hey! This is CLEARLY for little kids! I can't believe that guy…” BUT DON’T YOU SEE???? With this context, you suddenly see it wasn’t meant as an insult. Sebek considered Deuce’s level of reading proficiency and purposefully picked out something that suited him. I have no doubt that Sebek actually puts a lot of thought into the books he recommends to others because—to him—to share literature is to tell someone “I love you, I care about you.” WEEEEEHEHHHHHHHH H HHHH H H H H H HH H H H H, IT ALL TIES TOGETHER SO WELL!!

[hellsitegenetics]

Well since you mention valentine's professions of love, I think it wouldn't be right if I didn't take this chance to extoll the virtues of moths. Firstly, they're adorable. Some of them are really fuzzy and have cute antennae. The rosy maple moth and the common silk moth are both very very cute. Secondly, (as this blog proves again and again) there are SO MANY of them in such a huge variety that you're bound to come across one that tickles your fancy! Take the Atlas Moth for example! It's got a wing span of nearly 25cm! That's like the size of a small bird! (You have no idea how much I want to pet a large moth species. Not the caterpillars though. Never touch random caterpillars. In fact, some moth caterpillars have hairs and stuff that you definitely do not want to touch due to them being poisonous.) Thirdly, moths are culturally and historically important! Silk has been a major industry for centuries upon centuries. The techniques of silk production and the actual moths themselves are the subject of myths in various cultures. They were once so jealously and secretively guarded that there are legends of how they came to be spread to different parts of Asia. I cannot stress how big of a deal silk was throughout the history of the world and how the trade of silk influenced international relations for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Oh and the thing is, common silk moths aren't the only silk-producing moth! There are several moths in the Saturniidae family that make cocoons of silk which are also used in modern, commercial silk production -- some of which don't result in the death of the chrysalid.

Look, I know whatever string of nucleotides this ramble produces will not end up matching the genetic sequence of a moth, because that's just how these things work but... I hope that people will look upon all the moths that do show up going forth with a fond and grateful eye because moths are truly magnificent creatures. Happy Valentine's Day!

String identified:

c t at' , t t 't gt 't ta t cac t t t t t. t, t' aa. t a a a a ct ata. T a t a t c t a t ct. c, (a t g aga a aga) t a A t c a g at tat ' t c ac tat tc ac! Ta t Ata t a! t' gt a g a a 25c! Tat' t a a ! ( a a c at t t a ag t c. t t cata tg. tc a cata. act, t cata a a a t tat t t at t tc t t g .) T, t a cta a tca tat! a a a t ct ct. T tc ct a t acta t t a t ct t a ct. T c a a ct ga tat t a g t ca t a t t at Aa. cat t g a a a tgt t t t a t ta c tata at , t ta a. a t tg , c t a't t -cg t! T a a t t ata a tat a cc c a a , cca ct -- c 't t t at t ca.

, at tg ct t a c t atcg t gtc c a t, ca tat' t t tg t… tat a t t tat gg t t a a gat ca t a t agct cat. a at' a!

Closest match: Parapoynx stratiotata genome assembly, chromosome: 8 Common name: Ringed China-mark

[vaporvipermedia]

My Rook Headcanons

[Mostly about his body]

Finally..my time has come.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

We all know that I have to start off with my Fox Beastman!Rook agenda. Even when he’s presenting himself in human form, people can see that his teeth are not normal. Having four sharp canines that peeks out whenever he smiles. Since too many people have noticed, he just resorts to more affiliative smiles.

The reason why Rook wants to hide his beastman traits was for the thrill of and excitement of people finding out who he truly is after all this time. Like: “Hmm, what if I just gaslight my friends into thinking that I’m fully human only for them to find out later that I was actually a beastman? Wouldn’t that be quite silly? Very mischievous if you will?”

He’d like to imagine their expressions switch into complete shock and surprise. Eyebrows raised, mouth agape he’d think it would be such a wonderful surprise. Thinking their reactions would be absolutely beautiful

His potion making skills are very exceptional to say the least but it took a lot of trial and error. Getting some chemical burns when messing with test-run potions.

Although the potion Rook created hides his more visible fox features, his ears and tail do come back whenever he gets too excited or gets a major spike of energy. Something that Rook never thought would happen. [That's why he’s scarily good at controlling his heart rate. He trained his body in order to make sure his features remained hidden.]

Ok, say it with me now. THIS. MAN. HAS. SCARS‼️‼️ This man would not have so much flawless skin while being a hunter. It’s frankly impossible. From nasty tumbles, to possible encounters with wild creatures, ANYTHING!

I feel like Rook picked his skin a lot as a child. Especially scabs. Leaving some permanent marks on his body. He probably did this due to the stress of going out into the forest, wondering what might try to attack him.

Dimples…I don’t have to go in depth with this. We both know we are on the same track here. He has dimples whenever he smiles. It’s there. It’s visible. Let’s move on before I go insane.

Listen…Listen…He has a birthmark on his lower back that looks like the Orion Constellation. IT JUST FITS! CMON!

Rook’s hair is actually a little bit curly and got it from his father’s side. But most of the time he tries new hairstyles to give himself more variety. That variety involves him straightening his hair sometimes.😭😭

BUT AS A BONUS IF HIS HAIR GETS WET HIS CURLS WILL POP OUT! SO THAT’S A WIN!

[Clutching my fist in anger] FRECKLES! FRECKLES DUSTING HIS CHEEKS AND BODY! THEY EXIST THEY ARE THERE! I KNOW THEY ARE!

Tans easily during the summer. [Got that from his mother] His hat can only do so much.

Hear me out. I’d like to think that a piece of his ring finger is gone due to an incident with a beastman child when he was younger. And instead of being afraid of that event, that drove him to becoming more interested towards beastmen behaviors. So his ring finger is a constant reminder of his curiosity and that very incident.

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Whew…ok now I can pass away peacefully. Thank you for listening to my mad man ramblings. Well, actually you had no choice in the matter since I hunted you down inside of your own house.-

But nevermind that! You’re free to go.☺️🫶

[raingems-blog]

Cherry

Warnings: mention of smut, pining, reader being a love sick mess, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption.

Summary: How Victoria and the reader met during the early 2000's

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Contrary to her very put-together political persona later in life, Victoria, as a college student, was quite the opposite. While she wasn't career and future-ruining wild, she wasn't saint Victoria either. Victoria ran through the college campus like a tomb raider. There were so many people to meet, to get to know, to sleep with, and so many experiences yet to come and parties to go to. The political science major had become rather popular, known for being sociable and fun to be around, not to mention a good dancer in her dance troop. Her walk like an Egyptian dance had gone viral, her MySpace that you definitely hadn't been stalking was popping, her grades were higher than she was, and life was great.

Now, at a party, you stood watching her like an idiot. You looked like a love-sick fool. Only half listening to your friend as they talked about something or the other while you stared at the doe eyed girl in a tank top and shorts dancing with her friends. The bass of the music wasn't the only thing that had you throbbing, apparently. You had been knocking back this godawful concoction of fruit juice and various kinds of alcohol that burned with every gulp you took. It truly was terrible, but the buzz you got made up for the taste of the fruit flavored rubbing alcohol that they called 'Jungle juice.'

"Hello, are you even listening to me?" Their voice cut through your fantasy, the smell of alcohol and the loud booming of the music flooding your senses once again.

"Huh?" You asked, blinking yourself out of your dream struck state. You turned to stare at them, still looking dazed. To anyone, you probably looked drunk out of your mind, but your friend knew that your zoned out state wasn't from the cup in your hand, but the intoxicating sight of Victoria Neuman tearing up the fucking dance floor.

"You're really hopeless, you know that?" Your friend looked at you with a half annoyed, half amused look.

"Look at her. She's perfect." Came your response. Just seeing her had you weak, butterflies fluttered in your stomach every time you saw her.

Victoria looked your way briefly, but for you, it felt like a lifetime as you looked into those beautiful brown eyes that you so desperately craved to get lost in.

It took a bit of encouragement and the alcohol in your system to get you to talk to her, but your friend grew tired of your fawning and made you actually talk to her.

Your awkward approach and straightforward invite for a dance had Victoria reeling to say yes. Something about an awkward nerdy type was always attractive to her.

Her fingers looped through the loop of your jeans, and she pulled you closer as she noticed your slight distance from her. "I don't bite unless you want me to." Followed by a wink and her encircling her arms around your shoulders, her noses barely touching.

This caused you to short circuit, and immediately, and for some godforsaken reason the response that left your lips was: "Well, human bites are actually some of the most dangerous, as the saliva in our mouths contain a variety of bacteria that can lead to infection and death." You expected her to look at you like you had just lost your mind. You felt like you had just lost your mind. Instead of banter, a nervous ramble of a biology lesson had clawed its way up your throat and past your mouth.

Victoria, however, didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to find it funny and strangely endearing. She pulled away slightly to laugh before holding your face in her palms and calling you cute.

Who would have thought that your unconventional response and slight awkward demeanor would would lead to her standing in your dorm while you sat nervously on the edge of your bed, picking absentmindedly at a loose thread on the bedsheet.

Her fingers tucked under her shirt and lifted it over her head, leaving you to come face to face with her chest. Victoria was fucking ripped. Not exactly to the extent of a body builder, but it was obvious that she was toned to a degree. She clearly worked out regularly, and it showed in the definition of her biceps and the slight chisel of her abs, and you were all but drooling over it.

When she got closer to you, you almost died, and when she let you touch her, you're pretty sure you almost went to heaven. No, this felt like it. You never knew that she could make those sounds from your lips or that your voice had the ability to reach the decibels tgat you did. But her lips were like a soothing balm to the heat of your skin that burned with desire for her. Not once did you think that you'd be in this position or any of the positions that she put you in, screaming her name and repeating it like a hymn as her skilled hands and lips took you to heights that's your previous partners couldn't even dream of coming close to.

In the morning, you woke up alone. You should've expected as much, but it didn't leave you feeling any less disappointed that you hadn't woken up in her arms. The only evidence that she had been here was the smell of her on your sheets and the marks left behind by her on your skin that you'd no doubt have to work to cover up soon.

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