#opposite: caden

[begsfor]

[changingplumbob]

Struck By Love – Dec 25th Post 3

Cut for potential spoilers this holiday season (Dec 16th - Jan 5th)

In the end we had decided to book out one of the buildings near the park that had room for a small ceremony. Well, smallish. I had invited my friends from Oasis Springs and their kids who were Byron’s friends. My parents were sat up front opposite Art’s, his gran had a seat in front of them. Then there was Salim and Will, as well as Johnny and Elena. I didn’t know if they would ever get married but they were happy together as they were. Not everyone requires marriages to live ever after. The music started and Caden was first in the procession.

[thetwstwildcard]

"The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly"

Full Name: Emery Jäger

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 18

Birthday: February 20th

Star Sign: Pisces

Height: 156 cm (Roughly 5'1)

Eye Color: Sage Green

Hair Color: Off blonde

Dominant Hand: Right

Voice Claim: Saori Hayami (Japanese) Meaghan Jette Martin (English)

Inspiration: Evil Queen's Heart Box

Homeland: Land of Pyroxene

Dorm: Pomefiore

Year: 2nd

Club: Horseback Riding

Best Subject: Arts

Worst Subject: Summoning

Favorite Food: Macarons

Likes: Ballet, baking, arts, practicing archery (only on non animal looking targets), her family, classical art and music, flower arrangement, tea parties and theater

Dislikes: Hurting animals, attention, public speaking, people putting her on a pedestal, people watching her practice (ballet or archery), loud noises and bitter/sour tastes

Personality: The soft spoken sole daughter of the famous ballerina Amélie Devereaux and famous hunter/overblot beast hunter Dietrich Jäger, who gained talents from both parents. She has two older brothers (Blaise and Dieter) and one younger brother (Caden). Through her mother, she is childhood friends with Vil (who grew distant over time) while she met Rook during an archery competition. She's quick to run and hide at confrontation. She was a rambunctious child but after gaining her UM at a young age, caused by a "hunting accident", she has been timid.

Unique Magic: Huntress's Volley: Creates a bow and arrows out of magic (using her hands) that releases arrows that cannot miss their target (unless she puts all her effort into them missing)

Trivia

Technically should be a 3rd year but after her "hunting accident" she left school for a year before returning the next year a "different person"

Her "hunting accident" was actually a time when her father took her hunting when she was 10 that quickly turned very dangerous when they ran into an overblot monster that her father almost defeated until he got critically hurt (has a deep scar from it). To save her father, she "unlocked" her UM and slayed the beast only for it to turn into a human like form before fading to a black stone. The sight traumatized her (rightfully so) and since then she refused to go on hunting trips.

She much prefers following her mother's foot steps in ballet.

However, she still competes in archery events and more often than not either wins gold or is on the podium. At one of these she met Rook (where he gave her her ribbon for her medal) and now uses it in her hair

In ballet, she goes by her father's last name but in archery she goes by her mother's maiden name to not get only seen as the others child.

Her parents are married (and happily so), her mother just got famous before marriage and kept her maiden name.

She has extremely good eyesight and aim (even if not with a bow)

Stress bakes

Would want to be in Heartslabyul if not for the fact that being yelled at by Riddle would make her cry

Respects Vil but misses the relationship they had as children (since they're both "opposite" now")

[transmutationisms]

hi Caden! did you read anti oedipus, and if yes what did you think of it? you mentioned on your post about psychoanalysis being partial to this kind of approach, and i was curious if you had specific takes on deleuze, guattari, schizonalysis as a concept or its limitations?

blast from the past anti-oedipus was the first book i ever read that substantively criticised psych because i saw some people taking facile potshots at it on this very website in like 2017 and thought it sounded interesting lmao

alright so i have to be kind of broad here but essentially my opinion on psychoanalysis is that it's not, in itself, inherently liberatory or radical and certainly not inherently at odds with or even distinct from other modes of psychiatric practice. at the same time i think there are schools and elements of psychoanalytic methodology that can be those things, ie can be used to those ends by people who have those political commitments.

on here you do sometimes see this very ahistorical take à la byung-chul han that tries to understand psychoanalysis as inherently oppositional to psychopharmacology or other forms of therapy like cbt. this is really silly and fails to understand the ways in which psychiatry can and does practice pretty eclectically (because it's a very vibes based profession so it doesn't really matter). then there's the even further offshoot of this where people act like psychoanalysis has their preferred ('leftist') political character intrinsic to it, as though professional psychoanalytic organisations the world over aren't consistently on the front lines of things like medical transphobia (eg, check intellectual affilitions on the early ROGD papers; also, lacanians in france like generally). i would include schizoanalysis in this in the sense that there's nothing about it that prevents it being implemented in biased or hateful or repressive ways. its practitioners will have their own political commitments just like freudians or any other school; you can't just rely on an analysis being rhizomatic or whatever and think that solved what is a much more concrete problem of power relations and psychiatry as a tool of class suppression.

(i would extend that to scientific ideology generally but that's a longer post.)

what i do think is valuable in psychoanalysis (again now speaking very broadly of multiple sub-schools) is, and especially in comparison to other analytic models in psychology, it has a generally better capacity to deal with experiences like 'feeling at odds with yourself' or 'feeling tormented at your own thoughts'. the psychoanalytic unconscious or the process of repression of course aren't 'real' any more than the personality types or pathological entities of biopsychiatry, but the question is, are the concepts useful? i don't really align myself to a school of psychoanalysis or think it's a done endeavour but i do personally think elements of this family of approaches have real value for how we understand ourselves. this is again, though, something that in its barest scientific scaffolding will always admit of multiple & reactionary politics: for example, freud himself (and thus many many subsequent freudians) struggled with a tendency to be circumspect or sometimes openly ahistorical about the actual origins of the mental forms and archetypes he talked about (eg, the Daddy figure & its primacy in the psychological development he discussed). on the other hand, people like wilhelm reich have tried to develop this project to explicitly contextualise these elements socially and historically and materially: Daddy is in my head not because he's some universal form of human mental experience, but because of the primacy of the bourgeois marriage in capitalist social relations. etc.

so, wrt schizoanalysis and D&G particularly, my frustration frequently comes back to their failure to actually follow through on much of this. schizoanalysis is sort of an archetypal attempt to solve psychoanalysis by ideologising around the political character of psychiatry—what i mean is, the fantasy of schizoanalysis is that we can beat capitalist repression by playing what boil down to word games with it. psychoanalysis says the subject is a single 'i' and uses this conception of selfhood to achieve its economic and carceral ends (true), so schizoanalysis will evade the economics and carcerality by conceptualising selfhood as rhizomatic (unserious). i would tentatively level this more heavily at deleuze than guattari & keep meaning to do more historical reading about the latter & his actual clinical practice. but in general i do think both made (or acceded to, bc deleuze did basically all the writing as i understand it) basically silly idealist errors where anti-oedipus/a thousand plateaus shift from an analytic of capitalism to their attempt to actually formulate an alternative.

idk, it's frustrating talking psychoanalysis (on here or irl) because on the one hand you have to contend with people who think that, like, you could just reform the sex/gender discourses of lacanianism or jungianism to be more niceys to the transgenders by giving practitioners a DEI workshop. and then on the other hand you have to deal with hardcore neurobiopsych defenders who think that their fmri scans are somehow magically exempt from being theory-laden or narrativised, and that there's nothing to gain from an analytical mode that is capable of actually applying various dialectical motions rather than the crass positivism of basically all other psychiatry since like pinel. and meanwhile almost nobody in any of these camps is like, thinking clearly or honestly about the relationship between scientific ideology and political character, lmao.

tl;dr i don't think psychoanalysis will, can, or should save us & it may even be the case that no one has ever properly done it. but like yea i do think there are elements of the method that are useful for modelling our psychology, at any rate more useful than what else we've come up with thus far. and i would include schizoanalysis as under the same broad methodological umbrella, where its goal is more explicitly to grapple with politics qua psychology (libidinal investments) but it tries to do this primarily by discursive alternatives to the established form/s of the psyche—which alternatives may indeed be compatible with revolutionary politics but does not in themselves constitute such politics. As Eye Read D&G, anyway—im aware they are not the only people ever to have written about or practiced it, & aren't necessarily entitled to last word on it.

[midnightsun-if]

What’s one thing the MC could do that would get the ROs angry or annoyed?

I’ll put this in the relationship stage as those were the first things to pop into my mind.

Koda: Nothing truly gets under his skin as he tries to remain as calm as he possibly can… Koda doesn’t like being angry or annoyed — especially not at someone he loves/adores… If it were to happen with the MC? It’d probably be because of something ridiculous that wouldn’t last that long before Koda either apologized or got over the initial reaction… Something severe? Might have just been caused because he doesn’t like feeling like he’s being talked down to or his own brand of intelligence is being called into question. (Not that you can’t tease him, he’s well aware he’s not the smartest, but there’s levels… Though I don’t think that’d be an issue with the MC.)

Scarlett: Not telling her how you truly feel. In this stage in the relationship, Scarlett takes communication very seriously — given how she’s always been and how she’s aware it influences relationships… Not that you can’t ever keep something to yourself, but Scarlett will detest if you say one thing and mean the complete opposite. Communication and trust are big things for her… What do you have if you can’t even commit to either of the two?

Cyrus/Cyra: Bird jokes, typically. That’s not to say you can’t call them Birdie or something bird/fire related… They just truly enjoy bird jokes overall; there are instances where they’ll chuckle or won’t mind it as much, but they’ll typically prefer for their romantic partner to not make said jokes. (Unless they’re being a bird brain, then it’s completely fair game.)

Quinn: They’re fairly laidback, but they’re extremely loyal to certain members in their back — like their older sister — so badmouthing said members would certainly cause them to get a bit prickly, but I can’t truly think of anything else that’d make them angry/annoyed… Unless you’re just doing things to make them that way.

Caden: Tardiness/Lateness is a thing that tends to ruffle their feathers — if it’s once or twice they won’t care, but continued absence will definitely make them feel things they don’t particularly want to feel. It’s not only about being left alone, but the simple fact that you may have forgotten them — when that could never be the case for Caden… Plus, they find continued tardiness/lateness rude in a general sense too.

Sloane: The silent treatment or ignoring them. It’s something they absolutely hate. If you’re mad at them? Fine. Want to shout at them? Cool. Berate them for being an asshole? Probably deserved. But they will never appreciate or like being ignored — brings up way too many issues for them. They’d much rather you share your anger with them instead of nothing at all.

Blake: Prying. Even if it’s for a good reason. They’re willing to share a lot with you, but there will always be certain things that Blake won’t want to discuss or talk about in greater detail then they may have already shared with you. Prying on specific topics is a sure fire way of getting them annoyed (and actually angry if you continue to do so).

Reginald/Regina: Pretending like you’re interested in something they’re talking about when you’re actually not — they understand the sweetness behind the gesture, but it’s something they’ve had to deal with their entire life. If you’re not interested, then just be honest, not in a dickish way, just let them know, and they’ll try to find something else to talk about. Not everyone is into what they’re into and they’re more than fine with that. They wish to connect with you in the things you both love doing, not for one of you to pretend… (Unless it comes to Star Wars… they’ll probably still talk about Star Wars.)

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @astreamofstars for this ask meme: The Deeper the Water Dialogue Prompts Minsc - "You can be mad at me as long as you need to be" In a throwback mood lately so here's some BG2 feels. c:

-----

Caden: This isn't real, is it? He couldn't be dead… Jaheira: Shut up! No more words! Words are nothing! Yoshimo: I knew him not, but I mourn for your loss. Jaheira: Stranger! Nobody! I will not hear your words! Leave me! Minsc: A brave man has fallen here, but that is no cause to hurl insults at the living. Here, Boo shall comfort you. Jaheira: Imbecile! Affront to nature! What do you and your rodent know? What can you know? No words! No more words! Save your speeches, save your proverbs! The only voice I wish to hear is… is dead! No more! No… No…

- Baldur’s Gate II

---

“So this is Amn, eh, Boo?” Minsc looks around at the richly painted walls of his room at the Mithrest Inn, his eyes bright with disdain and exhaustion. “Minsc does not think it very much to look at, in spite of all the shiny baubles upon the walls.”

He examines a piece of art set over the headboard of the bed, and then shakes his head. “No. You may paint and daub all you wish, Athkatla,” he growls. “But Minsc shall not forget that his arrival within your walls was bought with blood.”

The artwork does not respond. 

Minsc sighs. “Yes, yes, Boo. You are wise as always, to say this changes nothing. But if a berserker is without his wychlaran, what has he left but rage?”

He rests a hand inside his pocket, feeling the comforting nuzzle of the hamster’s head against his palm. “Well,” he amends, “rage and you, of course.”

He should sleep. Much lies ahead of them all, now that Imoen has been taken and Irenicus yet lives unpunished. But it is hard, so hard, to sleep in a room where Dynaheir's breath no longer sounds nearby - the distinctive hitch on the inhale, the occasional mumble of arcane words that meant nothing to him. He feels her absence like the phantom pain of a ripped-off limb.

He leaves the room, prowls the hallways of the inn like a tormented ghost. Caden has already gone to sleep, and the thief from Irenicus's dungeons as well, but Minsc is surprised to find, on reaching the tavern at the front of the building, that he is not the only one still awake. Jaheira sits in a dark corner of the nearly empty room, watching with hooded eyes as the innkeeper wipes down the bar. A large glass of ale sits in front of her, untouched, its foam long since subsided. 

She looks up warily at the sound of Minsc's heavy footfalls. “Do you come to bring me yet more platitudes, ranger?” 

Minsc says nothing for a moment. He still remembers her sharp, angry bark in the catacombs where they found Khalid, the pain in her voice that answered his own. “If to rage at Minsc again would bring you comfort, Jaheira, perhaps he may find some good words to offer,” he finally says slowly. “But he has spent all those that came easily, and what remains is little indeed.”

Jaheira looks away from him and fidgets with the base of her glass, absently rubbing a line through the condensation that has formed there. “I am sorry, Minsc,” she says. 

“There is no need--” 

“I think there is.” She looks up again, and there is a sudden fire in her eyes. “I am no fool, who cannot tell when her shots have gone wide of the mark and struck those not the target. If you grant me the luxury of misplaced anger, grant me also this apology.”

A pause. “Very well,” he says. He reaches out and places a hand on the back of the chair opposite her; when she doesn't object, he sits, his heavy bulk causing the wood to creak. He can feel the familiar scratch of Boo shifting position as his pocket flexes with the motion. 

Jaheira watches him, then nudges the glass in his direction. “If you desire flat ale, you are welcome to this,” she says, with muted irony. “I ordered it, but I find I have no taste for it.”

He can understand this. Oblivion, he has found, can sit at the bottom of a glass, but it is a tricky thing; sometimes in falling towards it, one can miss and land instead only in deeper sadness. He shakes his head. “I thank you. But no. Minsc would rather feel this thing that tears at his insides, because not to feel it would be worse.”

“Yes,” she agrees. A pause. “I am sorry about Dynaheir. Her loss is a tragedy.”

“It is. Minsc shall not see her like again.” He examines a knot in the wood of the table. “She thought well of Khalid,” he adds abruptly. “Many times Minsc heard her speak of his bravery and kindness both. And Dynaheir saw only what was true.”

Jaheira smiles shakily. “Khalid and I both found her a fine companion in turn,” she says softly. “She was as strong in wisdom and magic as any I have encountered. We-- I am the richer for having known her.”

“And the world the poorer for having lost her.” Minsc makes a valiant attempt to smile but the muscles of his face twitch with the effort. “Even now, I feel that I might turn my head and see her watching,” he mutters bitterly. “Minsc’s mind mocks him with wishing.”

Jaheira squeezes her eyes shut and rests her elbows on the table, leaning her forehead against the heels of her hands. “As does mine,” she murmurs. “We had no time to prepare ourselves for this blow. It struck without warning and tore our hearts out of us.” Her breath catches, as if someone has struck her in the stomach. “How shall we bear it?” she whispers, more to herself than aloud. 

Now Minsc does smile, utterly without humor, a savage expression showing all his teeth. “We shall sink our boots into the butt of he who took them from us, so deep that we shall kick out his guts.”

She snorts softly and lifts her head. “Wisely said, if indelicately,” she says. She breathes out heavily, her shoulders squaring, her fingers balling into fists. “We shall destroy Irenicus indeed, and if fate is kind I shall land the killing blow myself.”

Minsc's smile draws very tight; it gives his high forehead and cheekbones a distinctly skull-like aspect in the lowering torchlight. “If fate is kind,” he growls in answer, “you shall indeed, and Minsc shall break every one of his bones, that he might not run away from your blow. Nor shall he see it coming, for Boo shall chew out his eyes.” He brings down his fist on the table with a bang that makes Jaheira jump. “And so shall dear Dynaheir be avenged, and Khalid as well.”

“Yes…” Jaheira murmurs, and for a moment there is a glint in her eyes that reminds him all too clearly of the tiger she is capable of becoming. “Silvanus lay the path, and Mielikki guide our hunt.”

[krakenshipwreck]

stucky cup 2024

well, they went from a 3x3 tournament at the first ever kraken dev camp in 2023 to 4x4 last year and i guess this year we finally have enough prospects to play 5x5. i was initially a bit disappointed because it's so much harder to notice individual details when there's 10 goddamned players on the ice, but i came around pretty quick. it was nice to see them play their actual positions, and also very interesting to see how they do in 5x5 traffic.

ty nelson skates very low to the ice and he's like a wrecking ball going straight through everybody. honestly can't tell if that's because he's physically able to force his way through traffic or if it's because everyone else kind of gets out of his way because they Do Not Want this dense pit bull bod barrelling into them.

berkly catton is completely the opposite style but just as effective, he just slides right by people into the zone. it's also extremely fun to watch him slip passes through impossible seams. the nelson/catton/firkus combo was pretty unstoppable. you can really tell when ty's on the ice, he makes the forwards look so much better.

julius miettinen had the most dominant faceoff win of the day, maybe he's not the most skilled but the size and strength matter. it was fun to watch him and my guy VIKING GUSTAFFSON get into it. lleyton roed also had a very nice end to end goal.

i was right about visa vedenpaa: team nelson scored 5 goals on the first period goalie but only once on him.

it was really cool for them to announce the contract signings, but i have some other gripes about in-game production. if they could give us a goal horn and kraken sound effects for the pride tournament, i don't understand why they couldn't today. the announcer also kept mispronouncing jagger firkus's name as "yaeger." ty nelson's acceptance of the stucky cup this year was also way boring compared to his outstanding showmanship last year. no trophy hoist, no victory lap, no fun. also why bother to name 3 stars if you're not going to have them yeet fish?

berkly catton lingered on the ice after everything was over, doing tight turns. that is a personality trait i always like in a hockey player. he and caden price are clearly saskatoon buddies and i love that for them and for us.

[gyrovagi]

ga-kei and ga-sun are so fun to me bc like caden and r are wildly different because they fully were not raised together barely know the other exists went in polar opposite directions of mage/templar defining their life trajectories. ga-kei and ga-sun were raised under the same circumstances and genuinely get along with each other and big-picture agree with each other on most things so it's fun to explore why their tenures as inquisitor would wind up so different. i actually don't think ga-kei considers himself to have much in common with circle mages at all whereas ga-sun's point of comparison for any mage he meets is ga-kei. coming away with very different perspectives on the wardens after clan lavellan's run-in with them because ga-kei was a teenager with strong opinions and suspicions and ga-sun was still very much a kid who absorbed appa and ba's perspective that the darkspawn attacked and the wardens saved us. ga-kei has eldest sibling access to the deep family lore and carries Historical Grudges and ga-sun just smokes weed with his dad

[sunsetandshadows]

Moment of Respite

A brief moment of solidarity during a mission, set out on a pier. Takes place in the assassin AU; also posted on AO3.

Caden stared into the gentle, rolling, rippling water, at the brackish brownish-green tone.  He swung his legs like a child in a seat too tall for them and shivered slightly against the wind.  The breeze toyed with his hair, playful, invisible hands lifting and curling raven strands around their fingers.  Thin, twisting strands of smoke danced in the air, and he held the bitter taste in his lungs as he took another drag before exhaling through his nose.  The grey cloud curled before his face, then faded into the pale sky, leaving nothing but its stinging scent.

Apparently Jakob was from just across the river.  Was he across from the Harrison household right now?  Was he looking at Jakob’s great-nieces and nephews now, playing in their yard without a care in the world?  Or maybe his family packed up and moved when Jakob died.  Maybe they weren’t there at all.  Despite keeping tabs on Jakob’s old friends, Caden could never really bring himself to look into his family.  He read his sisters’ names in his obituary; that was enough.

He supposed it didn’t matter.  They weren’t Jakob.  It was better if he forgot they existed.  He’d already forgotten their names; maybe one day their very existences would slip his mind.

Maybe.

Sunny stepped lightly, but the old wood of the pier gave him away immediately, creaking even under his expert movements.  Caden recognised the sound right away — years of memorising footsteps paid off, he supposed.  Sunny stopped a respectable distance away, and for a while, they stayed that way, Sunny’s eyes locked onto the back of Caden’s head, neither speaking up.  He took another breath of smoke, trying not to make it too clear how on-edge Sunny’s gaze set him.

Finally, Sunny’s voice, soft yet clear even over the gentle lapping of waves at water-stained pilings, called out.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Caden nodded.  “Thanks.  I’ll be right up.  Don’t uh… don’t wait for me.”

He half-expected Sunny to turn and leave, but there were no retreating footsteps.  Instead, after a beat, he stepped closer, creaking over rickety wooden boards, to stand behind Caden.  He stood there, gazing out at the land across the water, before sitting down with a huff, dangling his legs over the edge of the boards.

Caden side-eyed him, looking him up and down.  His skin looked livelier in the late-afternoon sun, eyes watching the horizon with that laser focus he so often had.

“Calm down, guard dog, nothing’s gonna jump outta the water,” Caden said, leaning back on one hand and taking a long drag of his cigarette.  Sunny cast him an unamused glance.

“I’m aware.”

They lapsed once again into silence, the waves far below them speaking in their place.  Caden was half tempted to just head back up to the house, the solitary moment broken now that Sunny had joined him — but now, a new sort of moment had formed, tender and fragile, so rare between them.  It was as if one small movement could throw them back into the chaos that all of this had started with.  Maybe that was preferable to this unfamiliar serenity; at least that was befitting of who Caden was now.  This…

This was too much like a different time, one he’d left behind long ago.

He lifted his cigarette to his lips again, hoping to lose that train of thought in the nicotine clouding his broken throat.  Almost instinctively, he turned towards Sunny to blow the smoke into his face, then second-guessed himself and turned away.  The smoke instead escaped into the air beside him, drifting away like a contaminated cloud.

“Thanks,” Sunny drawled, his voice tinged with the slightest bit of sarcasm.

“I could do it if I wanted to,” Caden warned, looking back at him.

“I know.  You do it plenty.”

A playful, unapologetic sorry faded on Caden’s lips.  Instead, he chuckled as his eyes trailed back out to the opposite shore with no real response.  That line of discussion died out quickly as well.

“Y’know,” he said offhandedly, looking down at the river below, “I knew someone who was from around here.”

“From the water?”  In Sunny’s voice, there was a hint of surprise at his openness, though Caden knew he was trying to cover it with a deadpan joke.  Caden rolled his eyes and lifted his cigarette to his lips.

“You know what I mean, asshole,” he teased around the cigarette.  He shoved Sunny slightly; Sunny barely budged, but he smiled, and that was enough.

“I know, I know.”  Sunny raised a hand, signalling for Caden not to touch him again.  Caden pulled away quicker than he meant to, not willing to provoke Sunny any further.  “So they were from the island?”

“Nah.  They lived just across the river.”  He indicated the opposite shore with a hand, the cigarette clamped between his index and middle fingers still burning against the evening sky.

“Were you friends?” Sunny probed, already knowing the answer but carrying on the small talk nonetheless, as if to fill the silence.  Caden glanced at him, wondering if he knew who they were talking about.

If only you knew.

“Not really,” he finally said, lying through his teeth.  “You know I don’t have many friends.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very independent,” Sunny bantered back.  After a moment, he continued, almost offhandedly, “Don’t know why I asked.”

“You should’ve known.”  Caden grinned and Sunny rolled his eyes.  The wind picked up briefly, sweeping a few strands of hair into Sunny’s face, making him sputter slightly as he combed it back.  Caden fought the urge to laugh; his throat ached as he choked down the sound.

As the wind died out again, slowing to a gentle breeze, Caden looked back out to the horizon, where the sun was sinking lower towards the distant hills.  He took another drag of his cigarette, which was now almost completely burned out.  Brows furrowing, he crushed it against the aged wood plan beside him, the embers dying out with a final brief flicker.

“Sunset soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sunny.  There was a brief glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye as Sunny curiously tilted his head at him.  After a moment of deliberation, he returned the gaze, despite how Sunny’s eyes had his stomach twisting fiercely.  Briefly, Sunny’s tongue ran along his upper lip, and Caden tracked the movement nervously.  Dinner was waiting back at the house, right?  How hungry was he now?

Sunny broke their informal staring contest first, looking back to the setting sun.  Had his skin taken on a more vivid tone, or was it just a trick of the light?  Inky strands of hair rode the light river breeze; in this light, he was an otherworldly sort of striking, both human and ethereal, the sun playing nicely on his face.  Like this, he looked almost like someone from a movie, or perhaps the protagonist of a novel.

Or the subject of a painting.

Caden choked on nothingness at the comparison and looked away.  He stared at the horizon, squinting in the warm light of the sunset, eyes narrowed against the sun’s harsh rays.

“We should probably head up,” he finally said, turning to look back at Sunny.  “Don’t want dinner to get c—”

Colours.  Thousands of colours erupted from Sunny’s form, a kaleidoscope of dazzling hues that almost made him look like he was glowing.  Colours Caden had never seen before, colours he didn’t believe were even meant to be seen by the human eye.  It reminded him of a stained glass window when the sun shone through it just right, yet somehow infinitely more mesmerising.  His partner was still gazing into the sunset, head turned away from him, the breeze still combing through his hair and ruffling his thin jacket.  He was still undoubtedly serene, even handsome if Caden allowed himself to think that.  But it was the rainbow, the infinite hues filling Caden’s vision, that captivated him, more brilliant and more enchanting than the warm sunset beyond them.  Reds and blues and golds, every possible mixture of the three, all vivid and brilliant beyond Caden’s wildest dreams.

The Sunset Killer.  That’s what “they” called him, right?  One of the many names Sunny had been given.  Suddenly, it made sense why he’d introduced himself that way, or why anyone had called him that in the first place.  It was as if he were the sunset itself, manifesting on this pier beside him this chilly spring evening; as if he’d vanish with the sun the moment it disappeared below the horizon.

Caden felt the urge to shrink away from him, almost overwhelmed by the colours that had burst into being beside him.  But more puzzling was the desire to reach out and touch him, wondering if he was even real.  As if his hand would simply swipe through Sunny if they made contact, like a child trying to catch a ray of light slipping through their window.

He did neither, instead opting to stare like a fool until Sunny inevitably felt his gaze and turned back to him.  His eyes were as keen as ever, perhaps even moreso with the colours reflecting off of them, leaving specks and gems within their irises.

Caden broke the silence first.

“W… wow.”

Smooth.

Sunny looked like he wanted to laugh.  Instead, he offered a simple half-smile that looked almost pitying.  “You’ve never seen me like this, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Caden admitted, voice raw.  “It’s…”

Incredible.  Captivating.  Beautiful.  Phenomenal.  Fascinating.

“Colourful.”

“Very perceptive.”  The flat delivery struck Caden harder than it usually did.  Sunny could be so obnoxiously charming sometimes — even when he didn’t mean to be.

“I mean.  It’s true.”  Caden waved a hand absently towards Sunny.  “You should see yourself.  So does this happen every sunset?”

Sunny nodded in affirmation.  “Since I…”  He went quiet for a moment and Caden realised he’d hit something sensitive in his unflappable, unbothered roommate.  The silence didn’t last long, however, before Sunny continued, “Since I came back.”

“Well, I wouldn’t’ve expected you to have been like that when you were a person,” Caden responded, trying to gloss over the sudden moment of vulnerability.  “What, do you think I was like this before I died?”

“Shut up.”  There was no venom in Sunny’s words, especially with the small smile curving his lips.

“Never.”  Caden playfully stuck out his tongue, then laughed.  “C’mon, you know you love it.”

“I really don’t,” Sunny insisted.  “I really, really don’t.”

“But you stick around.”

Sunny took hold of the back of Caden’s jacket and pulled him closer, gentler than Caden had come to expect from him, eyes intent as he leaned in.  The colours surrounding him had begun to fade as the sunset began to end, dusk now taking hold of the river.

“I stick around because somebody couldn’t stay put,” he reminded him.  “I wouldn’t have to be constantly holding your leash if you’d just stayed in line.”

And does Mother hold your leash because you can’t stay in line, Sunset Killer?  Does she know how much you hate her?  Do you know how much I used to hate you?  Does she believe she’s forced you into submission the way you’ve done to me?  Declawed you the way I’ve been defanged?

A caged dog will bite if given the chance, Sunny.  The day you finally snap is the day we will both be free.  From each other, and from her.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”  Caden feigned innocence to hide the bitterness in his thoughts.  “I’m stuck here now.”

“Sure.”  Sunny sounded unconvinced.  He released Caden and leaned away again, though his hand remained resting against his back.  “No going back now, though.  We’re stuck together.”

“I know, I know.”  Caden raised his hands in mock surrender.  “I’m used to it by now.  Can we get dinner now?  We’ve kept the others waiting long enough.”

Sunny was silent, mulling something over in his mind.  Caden furrowed his brows as he watched Sunny watching him, acutely aware of the hand still against his back, just between his shoulderblades.  From anyone else, it would be a comforting gesture, but from Sunny, it was anything but — especially with the small half-smirk that had begun to form on his lips.

“Sure.  But first…”

Dread began to form in the pit of Caden’s stomach.  “What’re you—”

And Sunny’s laughter was filled with mirth as he shoved Caden from the pier and into the river below.

[theking-blackheart-muses]

starter for @renegadetulisrp (Tristian and Zach)

Tristian was one of the most dangerous men in the world, he was trained well by his father and he had trained his nephew. He was in charge of training their assassins and he took his job seriously. In a way he was also the family bodyguard, that responsibility falling to him after the death of his sister. Tristian loved his family and would do anything to protect them, maintain their power and keep the balance of the crime world. He knew the past Mob Boss, he had worked with them and they had a good relationship. He was unsure about this person who had taken over. There was one thing that he hated which was war, he hated innocent people getting involved in the cross fire and so he decided to set up a meeting with them.

The male had a feeling that his nephew would try to start something, Caden was wild and he saw the male as chaos. He wondered how him and Logan could be the opposite. Well, he knew that could be said about him and his brother Vito they were opposite of each other. "Thank you for agreeing to meeting with me. I thought we should meet and discuss business since you have taken over," he spoke voice calm and confident as he studied the male.

"I come with gift, whiskey. As a way to promote friendship and hopefully an alliance because the last thing I want is for conflict."

[kredit-cat]

Meet these new fellas Caden and Plum

They're infact the same person.

Additional info:

- Caden is an ally to Silly, helping him clean up the city from criminals.

- While Plum is the exact opposite, causing ruckus all over the city.

- They switch up personality on random ocassion.

[blackskiesbeautifultimes]

"gods opposites really did attract in your case huh?" Caden asked his sister well aware how prim and proper she usually was.

"you haven't got to do anything you're not comfortable with" Aisling assured him "we've got plenty of magic users regardless. Minus gramps"

A tourney was the perfect way to celebrate the birth of another prince held proudly in his father's arms wrapped tightly against the cold.

Women weren't allowed to compete but she was a du Lac and had been on the training ground since she was old enough to sit up. Plate armor disguised everything about her and her expert plaiting hid her hair completely.

Riling the crowd as she was supposed to Aisling finally pulled her great black stallion before her aunt "might I wear your colors your grace?" Her magic helped to disguise her feminine voice but the only one it really mattered didn't find her out was her papa.

@fayofavalon

[keneestorytimelibrary]

Rockey Chapter 8

“Your brother is fucking lucky you pulled me back Matteo!” I said, once we entered the house. I began running my mouth on ways I was going to make him pay, failing to notice the small audience looking at me with amused faces. 

“Rockey, he was going to pummel you. “Matteo said cautiously. “I’ve never seen him almost hit a female before, but he sure as hell looked like he was going to destroy you.” 

“Oh, please Matteo! I’ve taken sh-” I began, but immediately stopped once I finally felt the three pairs of eyes on me.

There was a young girl, slightly older than Matteo, wearing a similar uniform to him. She had the same striking auburn hair, cut just below her chin. She had a pair of thick black glasses, and the sweetest smile I have ever seen.

There was also a much older gentleman, dressed in a simple black tux. He had a full head of gray hair, and a mustache. His face was a mixture of shock and pure amusement. 

And then, there was the smallest one. If Raffa didn’t look so mean, and didn’t have such a grumpy attitude, these two would’ve been twins. They even had the same shade of brown eyes. But while Raffa’s appearance screamed “ass-hole”, “thug”, and “mean”, this little guy looked the complete opposite. He was innocent, angelic, and adorable. And the way he was dragging his expensive bookbag behind him, made me want to swallow him up in a hug. 

All three of them looked at me, for what felt like hours, as if I was a mythical creature. The awkward staring continued until the front door opened and closed. Raffa and Nicoló walked in with a confused face. 

“If you have time to stare, then you must be ready for school.” Raffa said sternly. The three kids’ eyes almost bugged out. Without a word, they all ran in different directions. The older gentleman cleared his throat, and swiftly walked towards Raffa and Nicoló.

“Sir, your bath is ready.” he said calmly. 

I do not know what came over me, but I let out a hearty laugh. “Does the old man need help with his sponge bath?” The speed in which he attempted to lunge at me cannot be described in words or numbers. 

“Why don’t you get ready for work?” Nicoló said, barely managing to hold Raffa back from me. “Celia and Antonio are still on that business trip, and won’t be back for weeks, so there are more things that need to be done.”

“Rockey, please wait here. I’ll be back in a few.” With much reluctance, Nicoló pushed Raffa up the mahogany staircase.

After a few minutes of an awkward silence, the older gentleman began speaking. “Miss Rockey, may I tempt you with a quick tour of the Estate?” 

“Please.” I replied gently. He led me through the hallway, and into the living room. Caden and Tony’s apartment could fit comfortably in the living room, with room to spare. The walls were painted in a dark brown, with a gold border. There were two long curtains, in a dark goldish-color, covering massive windows.

“The furniture all over the house is a wooden Italian Classic.” the older gentleman informed me. He must’ve noticed the uncomfortable awe I had. “No expense was spared in decorating the house. Miss Celia helped in picking everything out.”

I immediately felt out of place, and didn’t feel comfortable sitting on anything, let alone stand in the room. He noticed my uneasiness, and let out a hearty chuckle. 

“Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Rockey.” he said.

“I wish I could, my good sir, but I fear I would be scolded by the crypt keeper if I touched anything.” I said rather loudly. 

He let out another laugh. “You may call me Arthur.”

“Hi Arthur, please to meet you.” I said, extending my hand. He looked at my hand for a second, before reaching out and shaking it. “Please just call me Rockey.”

All of a sudden, I felt a tiny tug on my leggings. I looked down to see the little guy from before, showing off his beautiful eyes.

I knelt down, so that we were eye-leveled. “Why hello there little one. What’s your name?” I asked.

The little kid kept quiet as he played with my hand. There was a comfortable silence as he began tracing figures on my skin.

“His name is Giovanni. He is six years old, and his favorite color is orange.” Arthur said. Giovanni gave me a coy smile, as if confirming what Arthur said was true.

“Well Gio, my name is Rockey. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.” I said politely. He gave me the cutest smile in return.

“He normally doesn’t warm up to strangers.” Nicoló said out of nowhere, scaring me shitless. I fell on my ass, while I let out a high-pitched scream.

Gio let out a cute little giggle before returning to his silent smile. His little laugh was so cute! “Oh, so you can make a sound, huh?” I asked with a smile. Gio replied with a shy smile. 

“I haven’t heard him laugh in a long time.” Nicoló admitted in a bitter sweet amazement. Nicoló came behind me and helped me up. Those few seconds of Nicoló touching me were absolutely blissful.

Raffaele came around the corner, another look of confusion plastered over his face. He was all clean, finishing the last touch of his 3-piece suit. He was the complete opposite of what I saw earlier. There is nothing sexier than a well-dressed man…that is until he starts talking.

“You’re on the floor already? What? Did the old hag fall?” He asked in a cocky voice. Once I felt I was steady, I marched towards Raffaele. I didn’t know what I intended to do to him, but I knew something was going to happen. Unfortunately, Matteo came running around the corner, tackling me back onto the ground. 

“Rockey, are you dropping us off at school?” He asked, trying to distract me from his older brother. The question definitely threw me off. Before I had a chance to answer, Raffaele butted in.

“Matteo, grab your brother and sister and wait in the front.” he ordered. Matteo nodded, and grabbed Gio’s hand. 

“Arthur, please go with the kids and this thing to school. Nicoló, let’s go.” With that, everyone began moving. I was left on the floor wondering what exactly was going on.

‘Was I hired?’

[midnightsun-if]

Would there be any RO that would be jealous of how much MC’s, if MC had one, pet is so cuddly with MC? Or how the pet always seems to shoo the RO away from MC. And how they would sit on MC’s lap and occupy MC’s attention.

I hope that made sense. I am so tired right now. I think I’m gonna go grab my cat and just knock out.

Which reminds me, make sure not to overwork yourself. Hopefully your day is going well.

I completely understand what you mean, don’t worry! ❤️❤️❤️

I hope you have wonderful cuddles with your cat, and that you don’t overwork yourself either!

My day has gone great! Even better now that I’ve gotten this wonderful message from you.

Koda: Wouldn’t really be all that jealous… Your pet is just seeing you like he does! Would miss being able to cuddle up to you though.

Scarlett: Surprisingly enough, Scarlett wouldn’t be. Mainly because she understands exactly what’s happening— Balerion is the exact same with her. It’d be hypocritical of her to get annoyed/jealous about the situation.

Cyrus/Cyra: I think they’d be a little put out by it to be honest, but I wouldn’t quantify it as being jealous. They’d probably just glare for a moment before settling back into their own spot.

Quinn: Their wolf wouldn’t be too happy about it— they have designated mate time, damnit! Quinn, the human side, would just find it amusing (the situation as a whole and their wolf sulking).

Caden: Understands wanting to be near you as much as possible… Wouldn’t hold it against your pet.

Sloane: The exact opposite from Quinn. Their wolf would find it amusing, especially because of Sloane, while their human side would be sulking. Absolutely jealous that they’re not able to cuddle you like they want.

Blake: 1000%. Would be so jealous that something else is getting your attention in such a way. They don’t care that it’s your pet achieving the fact… they’d probably be jealous of a stuffed animal or pillow if you cuddled it for too long when they’re right there.

Reginald/Regina: Honestly? They’d probably be more distracted by your pet than actually paying attention to you. You might be the one that gets jealous at the end of the day.

[blackjackkent]

Unrequited for Caden/Aerie! :D

(Send me a pairing and a prompt)

Send me a "Unrequited" and I'll write a drabble about one character longing for the other.

((Ooh, good pairing choice for this one. ;) I think this ended up likely being set roughly somewhere before this conversation.))

------

"Aerie?" Caden calls softly down the hall toward their rooms at the Mithrest Inn. "Are you coming down? Everyone else is eating."

"What? Oh-- yes, I-- I'll be down in a minute," he hears her answer.

Involuntarily he smiles a little, just hearing her voice, but the smile is tinged with concern. "Everything all right?" he asks, moving to poke his head around the door frame.

She is sitting on the bed, a few crumpled sheets of parchment clutched in her hands. Hearing him enter, she looks up and blushes at once. "Oh! Yes, everything's fine, Caden. I was just... well..." She looks down at the papers and then adds shyly, "Haer'Dalis gave me this bit of one of his plays and said I should learn the lines. He thinks I should be an actress."

Caden's smile flickers almost imperceptibly, then steadies. "Well, and why shouldn't you be, if that's what you want?" He hesitates, then crosses the few steps to sit on the opposite end of the bed from her. A pause. "Is it what you want?"

She fidgets uncertainly with the parchment. "Perhaps," she murmurs. "It is beautiful, the words on the page. I-- I should like to be able to speak them with such confidence. But I do not know if I can."

Caden reaches out cautiously to rest a hand lightly on her arm. "I do not doubt your ability to do anything you wish to do," he says softly.

"You are kind to say so, Caden," she says, but he can tell she does not really believe it.

Of course, he reflects sourly, perhaps it means more when Haer'Dalis tells her so, with beautiful language and passionate eagerness. The thespian tiefling has a seemingly neverending supply of compliments and artful turns of phrase, and Caden is not blind to how it has worked on Aerie in the time they have all traveled together.

What chance have I, country boy from Candlekeep with darkness in his soul, compared to such a worldly light?

"Would you... like to read the lines for me?" he asks cautiously. "I could even try to read back the other part, if you would like."

She hides a giggle behind one hand and looks sideways at him. "It is a love scene, this piece, you know," she says.

Of course it is, Caden thinks ruefully, feeling heat rise up his neck and ears. Why would it be anything else? "I'm happy to help," he says stoutly. "Though I am no master of the stage myself."

She considers, clearly debating within herself whether she is too shy to attempt this before anyone yet, even him. Then she nods and smiles slightly, and leans over, her shoulder brushing his, so that he can also look at the page she is holding.

"It starts here," she says, pointing at one line near the top of the paper. "Theodorus speaks first. That's you. And I'm Cynthia. He's-- I don't know. The lines are quite complicated, but if I read it right, he is her servant. And they are both in love but neither can tell the other..."

He finds himself momentarily struck dumb, as if he's forgotten how to read, because she is suddenly closer to him than she has ever been before and he can feel her warmth where her shoulder is against his... Focus, Caden--

"Ahhh--" he stammers, fumbling for the words on the page. Slowly they come into focus. "My mistress true," he reads hastily, "too long have I attended/thy troubled mind and longed to place a balm/upon the fev'rish pain that doth bewilder/thy heart with fear and doubt and wonderment."

She clears her throat, reads back the next line earnestly. "Oh Theodorus, wouldst that thou could know/the passion still that burns within my heart/for one who should not hear and doth not ken/the state to which he drives my aching soul..."

Her eyes flick up and she catches him staring at her, and she laughs again softly. "Your turn again," she points out.

"Ah, right. Um... My lady, sure I think you wrong to doubt/that I should have the heart to understand/such pain... for true it is I live and breathe/within consuming fire of my own..." He trails off, swallows in a suddenly tight throat.

She turns her head, raising her eyebrows. "There is more to the line. 'Much could--'"

"--Much could I say, had I an artist's mind..." Caden says hoarsely. This feels, suddenly, like a dreadful mistake, because the words of the play resonate far too keenly with the longing that drifts up in his heart whenever she's close to him. He stops, coughs, and then attempts the line again. "Much could I say, had I an artist's mind/with skill to match the fervor of my heart./But still it is my soul shall know the depths/of feeling that my tongue could never sound..."

To his deep embarrassment, his voice cracks a little on the last word.

Damn it, he thinks, clenching one fist suddenly into the sheets of the bed they're sitting on. It isn't fair.

She draws back a little, registering his agitation, and her eyes widen just slightly with some sudden realization. "Caden--"

"It's your turn," he whispers.

"Yes, but--"

"AERIE!" Haer'Dalis's sharp tenor cuts across the moment like a knife; he bursts through the door with a wide, ear-to-ear smile and a dramatic gesture. "There you are, my mourning dove; I did fear we had lost you in the great halls of this fine establishment. Will you not come to eat? I would not have you faint on the road for lack of a good meal!"

He extends a hand to her with an elaborate flourish. If he notices Caden is even in the room he gives no sign of it; his attention is entirely on Aerie.

"Oh!" Aerie says, startled out of whatever she was about to say. Her eyes flick between the two men frantically for a moment's hesitation, and then her shoulders slump just slightly, though she smiles in answer to the invitation. "Yes, of course, Haer'Dalis. I was just about to come down."

She reaches out to take the tiefling's hand, then pauses, looks to Caden. "And you will come too, will you not?"

Caden's expression has gone suddenly rigid with the effort of keeping a wave of turbulent emotion from showing on it. "Yes, I-- I will be down shortly," he says hollowly. "Do not let me keep you."

[glamguide]

Part three of her family and friends that are only exclusive from her plots, articles, and more.

CADEN TRISTAN KIM

Name: Caden Tristan Kim

Birthday: February 05, 2002

Face Claim: Park Jisung (Jisung from NCT DREAM)

Status with the model: Best Friends

Background: Despite being the second-youngest next to Neriah, Caden is quite the opposite. This lad can get shy and introverted. However, Clementia tried to make Caden feel comfortable in their atmosphere, and with that, The lad began to open up and try to communicate with other people.

ADALEE SHION DIAZ

Name: Adalee Shion Diaz

Birthday: April 17, 2001

Status with the model: Best friend

Face Claim: Shin Ryujin (Ryunjin from ITZY)

Background: It was her first day when Clementia had to visit the company. The model decided to roam around—Due to Eliana’s suggestion. ‘You can look around first so that you can get familiarized with the building.’

When she arrived at a café inside the Lumi Model Adalee spotted her and offered her hand. On that day, Clementia found it weird since the lassie stopped her and immediately asked for her hand, initiating an inside joke between the two.