#or because he tends to operate from the shadows

[another-goblin]

[moonchildstyles]

cherry

final part of pomegranate: the last of the firsts.

wordcount: 8.2k+

—————

Harry looked at the box in his hand with a pinch between his brows. 

Was he maybe getting a little ahead of himself? Sure, but there was such a thing as being under-prepared and that wasn't something he wanted. That was why he was in the middle of the personal hygiene aisle with a box of condoms in hand. 

Ribbed for her pleasure, or ultra thin? His brows pulled into a tighter furrow. Would any of these options really make a difference? 

God, how was he supposed to know which ones were going to fit? 

Reaching for another box, this one black with obnoxious gold lettering, Harry practically jumped out of his skin when a shopping trolley clipped the back of his shoe. In nearly the same instant a rushed sorry came from the older woman operating the cart. 

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, ready to wave off her apology, "'S alright, no worries." 

The smile he had pinned to his face dampened when he saw the woman's gaze drop to the now three boxes in his hands. Her eyes widened just enough that it was noticeable, even if she didn't want it to be. 

She attempted to fix her features into something much more pleasant, though her smile was strained. "Have a nice day," she muttered as she continued past, her steps a touch faster than was appropriate down an empty aisle. 

The interaction lasted for less than a minute, but Harry was going to be replaying her reaction for hours on end. At least the flush bubbling under his cheeks was going to be there, whether he liked it or not. 

Fixing both the knitted cap he had over his hair and the thick hood of his sweatshirt to shadow his face a bit more, Harry tried not to feel embarrassed. This was a very, very normal thing to be doing, buying condoms. 

Not that he was having sex or anything. It's just... the opportunity was now on the table and he didn't want to be ill-prepared. Should (Y/N) decide she wanted to share something like that with him, he didn't want to put a stop to the magic because he didn't have the magic stash in his bedside table like he was supposed to.

Not that they were having sex, though. Or even said anything that could allude to changing his virgin status. 

But, (Y/N) did tend to spend the night in his room more often than not these days. They weren't exactly glued to each other's sides since he'd been brave enough to confess his feelings those couple of weeks ago, but there was definitely a shift. 

Those kisses on the cheek had changed to pecks on the lips. Quick goodbye hugs were now lingering cuddles before they were separated for the work day. Quiet declarations of seeing one another later were now often punctuated with a new three syllable sign off. Nights in front of the television dissolved into sleepovers with a single shared pillow, murmured conversations to be had about topics it appeared neither of them had been brave enough to broach prior to the night in her bedroom. 

It was kind of like (Y/N) was his... girlfriend. 

Even the thought had a new flush touching Harry's throat and climbing up his jaw. 

So, maybe he was getting a bit too ahead of himself when he dropped two of the three boxes in his basket (the ultra thin and specifically sized ones). But, he thought to himself as he began perusing another aisle in search of a quick dinner idea, it might be nice to give into some of his hope. 

Hope that she trusted him just as much as he did her. 

—————

Hunched over his desk, Harry wanted nothing more than to step into this spreadsheet and rearrange it with his bare hands. Whoever was in charge of formatting these things was going to make him go into early retirement, no—

A delicate pair of hands settled on the shelf of his shoulders. Harry started at the touch, but melted nearly immediately. He was growing to know this touch better than even his own skin. 

A soft smile bloomed on his face when he turned in his chair, lifting his headphones off of his ears. Behind him, hands now dropped to her sides, was (Y/N). Pretty as ever, fresh home from work with her hair still pinned back and sensible trousers on her legs. She came to see him before even moving into something more comfortable. 

"Hey you," he smiled, looking up at her with what he was sure was stars in his eyes. 

"Hi," she greeted, reciprocating the curl of his lips. She made a move to sit on the edge of his bed before him, relaxing into the mahogany bedding. "How's everything going?" 

Rolling his neck when he realized just how close he had craned it to look at the screen, he let out a sigh. "'S alright."

"Is it the spreadsheets?" (Y/N) asked, already reaching to place a comforting hand on his knee. Her thumb worked a circuit on the side of the joint, soothing him down more than she even knew. 

"Yeah," he breathed, "I don't want to be a problem, but I feel like I've got to talk to someone at this point. 'M having to go back and fix each one before I can even get started on m'side." 

Her clear gaze was stitched right to him, a frown pouting her lips. "Don't worry about being a problem, H. It's not fair for you to have to do twice the work, and possibly get behind on what you're supposed to be doing. Say something." 

"We'll see," he sighed, encouraged by her words but not sold on the idea of making a name for himself in the office outside of being "Quiet Harry". 

He could tell (Y/N) knew where he sat on the fence, but she didn't push him. "We'll see," she agreed, tipping her chin up, "Until then, though, are you almost done for the day?" 

Glancing at the time on the alarm clock he had situated on his bedside table, he nodded his head. "I've got ten more minutes before I can clock out." 

Her smile grew larger at his words. "Good," she started, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "We should go out tonight. If you want, anyway." 

At her suggestion, Harry could't help the way his mind flashed to Collin—Cora's brother from the night at the bars—and the way he had attempted his hand at flirting with (Y/N) many times through the night. Going out again didn't sound particularly fun. 

"I don't know, love," Harry said, canting his head as if rolling the idea around, "'S been a long week, s—" 

"H," she muttered, jaw dropping in offense, "Are you rejecting me?" 

Harry reared back at her accusation. She'd never said anything like that when he said no to bar hopping before. "No, no, I jus'... If y'want to go to the bars, I don't think—'M jus' not—" 

"I don't mean going to the bars with Rue and everyone," (Y/N) clarified, her offense turning faux with a laugh entering her tone, "I was asking you to go on a date with me." 

Realization settled on him then. To be fair, if she wanted to spend a night out with her friends, she did usually mention who exactly it was that was going out. She didn't really just ask him, not the way she had tonight anyway. 

If you want, anyway. 

"I... I didn't know," he muttered, cheeks running red and warm, "Sorry." 

A bubbling laugh fell from her lips as she leant forward and pressed her lips to his cheek ,right where his dimple would appear when she made him smile. "I figured. But, if you're tired and all, we don't have to, I was just joking before. We can plan a different night if that's easi—" 

"No, no, I want to. I really want to." 

"You're not tired?" (Y/N) pressed, taking her turn at being the incredulous one. 

"No. Not for this," he cemented, eagerly casting the thought of Collin out of his head. "We can do anything y'want tonight." 

She raised a brow. "You're sure?" 

A definitive nod came from him. 

"Well," she started, eyes sparkling and giddy, "We could go to dinner at that Italian place we like. Or, we could do something new." 

Something new. Just the string of those words brought the nerves in Harry's skin to attention. That was how she described every first Harry had with her—something new. 

The condoms in his bedside table suddenly seemed to have a spotlight directly on the drawer. 

Blinking back to (Y/N) before she could catch his distraction, he answered, "Something new." 

Her smile grew. 

—————

"Wasabi just tastes like soap to me. I don't know, it's not that spicy it's just... sudsy." 

Harry laughed at the face of disgust forming on (Y/N)'s features. If he were in a movie, he could see himself letting out a dreamy sigh as he dropped his chin to his palm, leaning across the table to get a better look at his darling. Instead, he attempted to play it cool and only let a gentle smile settle on his face as he glanced at her through his lashes. 

"Y'haven't had the right stuff, that's all," Harry offered, tipping his chin up, "When I was in Ja—" 

"When you were in Japan, you had the real stuff, I know, I know," (Y/N) cut him off, a teasing smile on her lips as she pinched another piece of her spicy salmon roll between chopsticks, "Trust me, I haven't forgotten when you left me for a whole month." 

"You could've come with me," he sang, topping his head, "I think y'would've really liked it." 

And, he wouldn't have been texting her every day several times despite the time difference, clinging to her through a screen. He would've had her at his side, experiencing something he now held so dear to his heart. 

"Maybe next time," she cemented, the same way she always did when he brought up the expedition, "We'll just have to figure out a way to get me to sleep through the whole flight, so I don't get sick." 

He knew her request was nothing but a silly joke, but there was a part of Harry that was determined to find a myriad of ways to make it so she had nothing but a pleasant experience if he was lucky enough to get her on a flight with him. 

"I'll figure something out," he said, a determined pinch appearing between his brows. 

Underneath the table, her foot knocked against his, drawing his eyes ip from where they fell to the dish of soy sauce stationed between them. He caught her eye as she looked at him, an affectionate smile draped over her features. 

"You don't have to think so hard about it, H," she laughed, "I think we've got some time. We'll figure it out together." 

Together. Together. The syllables were enough to make his heart patter a bit harder behind his ribs. The two of them being together, forming an us. For the first time ever, there was a chance Harry would be more than an I and be something with someone else. All with the one person he deemed too far out of his grasp years ago. 

He suddenly felt sheepish, with a flush creeping under the collar of his sweater. They were on a real date tonight—all under (Y/N)'s request. He didn't think anything could beat an evening in with one of their shows on the television, but this sushi dinner was becoming stiff competition. 

"What?" she asked, knocking her foot against his once more.

"Hm?" Harry blinked, focusing his gaze on her once more. Just the sight of her was enough for the flush to climb an inch higher up his throat. That was (Y/N) sitting across from him, bathed in the glow of paper lanterns with her pretty, perfect, everything eyes on him. 

"What are you thinking about? You're getting all red," she pressed, a slight smile on her lips before popping another piece of her roll in her mouth. 

Harry shook his head, feeling the swirls of his hair drift across his forehead. "Nothing, jus'... you know." 

Was it lame to acknowledge the first date while you were on it? He thought at the very least it wasn't very suave to talk about how much he was blown away by the fact they'd even made it to this benchmarker when they were still sitting across from one another. 

"'You know' what?" She leaned over her plate conspiratorially, as if in search of a secret, "Did I miss something?" 

"No, I jus' mean," he started, dropping his eyes to where he pushed around the fallen rice grains from his tuna and avocado rolls, "'S still... 'S crazy, you know—us." 

Harry watched the way her lashes fluttered, eyes turning down towards her own plate for a brief moment. "A little," she agreed, "Mostly because we said I love you before we'd even gone on a date." 

A bubbling laugh left his chest. Things were most definitely out of order between them, though he wouldn't have it any other way. This route worked in his favor, even if it was years in the making. 

"Jus' a little backwards," he nodded, dimples denting his cheeks, "But, 's worked, right?" 

"Oh yeah, definitely," she said, nudging his foot with hers. A playful sparkle entered her eyes, a sly smile on her lips. "If you'd just told me you were a virgin earlier, we probably would have gotten here a lot faster." 

Harry choked out a laugh, feeling his skin heat that much more. Maybe the whole restaurant didn't need to know about his sexual status, but it was still funny. 

"I was nervous," he muttered, shaking his head with a shy smile. "Didn't think it was a very sexy thing to tell the girl I've been in love with for years." 

(Y/N)'s brows bounced over her eyes. "Years?" 

Buying himself a minute, Harry sipped from his drink. It wasn't a secret now that he was in love with her, but it still felt nerve-racking to share the details of one of his longest held secrets. He doubted that she would be completely turned off hearing just how long he'd had his eyes on her, but it didn't make it any easier to share. 

"Since university," he murmured, moving quickly to stuff a bite of his roll in his mouth.

Her expression warmed, full of rounded edges and soft eyes. "Really?" 

He nodded. 

"I can't believe you never told me," she smiled, giving away any attention she may have paid to her dinner to land right on him, "I mean, I know why now, but... I had the biggest crush on you when we met. I just never thought you liked me back." 

"You did?" Harry blanched. He remembered many things from those first few months with (Y/N), but he didn't remember a single moment of when she may have held any affection for him. 

"Oh yeah," she solidified, "Like, bad. I told, like, all of our friends about it. But, it never seemed like you wanted anything more than to be friends, so I kind of let it go. Obviously not completely, but I thought that if you wanted something, we'd get there when we were supposed to get there." 

"And y'think we're supposed to be there now?" God, he really hoped so. 

A grin stretched over her lips. 

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." 

So much giddy energy lived in Harry's body just listening to her. This was his real life? This was what that morning in his bedroom led to? 

Despite wanting to run around, scream, scale trees, and swim the ocean, Harry nodded his head. 

"Me too." 

—————

"You know," (Y/N) started, taking her shoes off to be left in a heap by the front door, "I don't usually invite anyone inside on the first date." 

Harry's grin was dreamy as he gazed at her. "No?" 

"Oh no," she shook her head, stepping towards him. "Never. You're the exception." 

Once she was close enough, she reached up to loop her arms around her neck. Harry, complete with a pounding heart, settled his hands on her waist. The curve was more familiar to him than he ever thought he would have the privilege of knowing. He just hoped she wouldn't be able to feel the way his skin was growing clammy under her top.

"Yeah?" he prodded, liking the game she was setting forth. "Why's that?" 

"Well," she started, "First of all, you live here"—she earned a laugh out of him for that one—"Second, you made me laugh a lot tonight. Third, I think you're really hot." 

Even though he knew she was playing around, attempting to make him laugh, it was nice to hear her say those things. 

"I do live here," he cemented, tipping his head before tipping his chin down to face her, "But the rest... you mean that?" 

"Harry, you're the funniest person I've ever met," she said using the leverage of her arms around his neck to pull him lower, "And you know I think you're really hot, right? Or have I not made that clear enough?" 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Maybe you need to remind me." 

Harry only saw a quick flash of the eager grin on her face before she rose to press her lips to his. It was soft and affectionate, the way she slotted her lips against his. He pulled her top lip between his two as he pulsed his hands on her waist. He could taste the honey dessert they shared at the restaurant lingering on her mouth. Even more so when he felt the barest sweep of her tongue graze his lip. 

He could feel his skin already beginning to warm, his chest pounding. The condoms he'd purchased sprung to the forefront of his mind. 

Was he being too presumptuous that she would want to sleep with him just because they'd gone on a date? Was he looking too far ahead when he pictured her wrapped in his sheets once more? It was too much to assume that she would let him replay the moment before he went on his knees for her, when he laid above her with her legs around his hips, pelvises slotted together. Right? 

It was (Y/N) that drew away first, blinking up at him with glittering eyes. "Are you okay?" 

"Hm?" His brain wasn't working very clearly at the moment. 

"Are you alright?" she asked again, concern painting her features, "You seem distracted. We don't have to do anything, you know. Just because we went on a date, and all, it doesn't mean we have to." 

His hands on her waist tensed when he realized what she was saying. She thought he didn't want to do anything more with her tonight? How she could have arrived at that conclusion when he was the one clutching at her waist as he hungrily kissed her, he wasn't sure. There were times he was sure she was living in his mind, hearing his thoughts and understanding everything he wanted before he had the chance to utter a word. Other times, like this, he wasn't sure how they were even in the same room. 

"That's—No—I'm... 'M fine," he cemented, "I jus' didn't want to make you feel like we had to do anything." 

She blinked with a flutter of lashes. "I mean I want to, but it's up to you, H."

He figured it would be a bit embarrassing if he had the mind to think of anything but (Y/N) and the turn the night was taking, but there was no time for that. Not when he had to keep his imagination in check, lest he pull her a little too close to his body and she realized just how eager he was to hear her words. 

"I want to," he rushed out, tongue tripping over itself, "I really want to." 

A small grin curled (Y/N)'s lips. Her arms around his neck shifted until she curled the strands at the nape around her fingers. "You really want to?" 

She was trying to play around with him, get him to laugh and ease him through his confession, but that wasn't where Harry's mind was going. He pulled her flush against him, feeling every curve and dip of her body against the rigid muscles of his own. He wouldn't be surprised to hear that his eyes had gone dark, pupils blown. 

"I want you," he cemented, a grumble to his voice. 

Harry watched as (Y/N)'s expression dropped into something liquid and hazy. Her lips parted with brows downturned. He couldn't help but imagine this is what she would look like pleading for him, dilated pupils and soft features. 

A beat passed. 

"Your room or mine?" 

Harry didn't have to think: "Mine." 

—————

Harry was restless as he laid back. Clad in a bold move of only sweatpants, he couldn't help but play with the strings at his waist. (Y/N) was still in the bathroom, cleansing herself of the day before returning, leaving him with too much time to himself. 

Was he ready for something like this? He didn't doubt that this was something he wanted to do with (Y/N), but he worried. Was he going to feel different in the morning? Was she going to feel different about him in the aftermath? 

God, what if he was bad? 

Maybe he should tell (Y/N) he wanted to go to bed, that he was a little too tired. That would be best, right? That way he wouldn't be able to disappoint her, or himself. When she came back, he would tell her that he really loved her still, he just wasn't feeling well—maybe he'd blame it on the sushi? That' would be believable, and then he could hope that she'd still share his bed with him and then they'd wake up in the morning and everything would be as it always was and he wouldn't have to worry about—

Stepping through the threshold, (Y/N) wore a large shirt and a smile. The makeup she donned for their date was washed away, leaving clean skin and curled lashes behind. Her hair was loose, framing her face as she gazed at him. She moved with familiarity through the room, padding on socked feet over his floor. 

"Hi you," she said once she reached the edge, climbing on the mattress towards him. "You look comfy." 

He swallowed around his dry throat. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the stretched neckline of her sleep-top, giving him a view he wanted so badly to feel bad about glimpsing. 

"Um, yeah," he muttered, blinking back to reality when she joined him on his pillow, "Jus' waiting for you." 

"Well, I'm here now. No more waiting, right?" 

No more waiting. The thought had his cock stirring in his lap. 

"Right," he muttered. 

Reaching out, (Y/N) placed her hand on his cheek. Her fingertips breached the baby curls on his hairline, thumb coasting over the height of his cheekbone. "You're still alright?" 

"Yeah," he whispered, "'M jus'... nervous." 

The curl on her lips was comforting. "What's making you nervous?" 

He turned to face her, laying on his side with their noses only inches apart. His eyes traced over her features, noting the small blemishes and marks over the soft skin, the places he wanted to kiss so badly. "I want it to be good. I want to be good." 

"You are going to be perfect. We'll be in this together, there's nothing to be scared of." 

"But," Harry started, dropping his eyes from hers to line over her jaw, "I jus' don't want to disappoint you. 'M worried I waited too long." 

A pinch appeared between her brows, incredulous. "You waiting is not going to make you disappoint me. You did what you felt was right for you, and that's okay. I mean, honestly, this is working in my favor—more for me." 

He let out a breathy laugh as she bounced her shoulder. This was the reason he had made it this far with her. She did nothing but ease him, comfort him, make every breath worth it. "You think so?" 

"I know so," she cemented, tipping her head to press her lips to his chin, "No matter what, anything that happens—or doesn't happen—tonight, isn't going to change how I feel about you. You've already got me." 

He could feel his breath being taken away. You've already got me. 

All Harry could manage to croak out was, "I love you," before he caught her mouth in a kiss. 

There was an urgency behind the affection that they hadn't started the evening with. This time, he tasted the crisp peppermint of her toothpaste only to be overpowered by the raspberry taste of her lip oil. The scent of her lotion perfumed around him, wafting through his nose and tinting his thoughts with vanilla cotton clouds. He reached out and caged an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him. 

Their legs tangled as (Y/N) parted her lips for him. It was her that gave the first swipe of her tongue over his bottom lip, tasting with a breathing moan. Harry felt his brows knit in the middle, fingertips denting into the plush of her form. He wanted so badly to be closer to her; feeling her against his body wasn't close enough. Especially not with layers of clothing between, no matter how threadbare her top appeared to be. 

Slipping his tongue against her own, (Y/N) let out another moan into his mouth. She hooked her leg over his hip as she swept her tongue through his mouth, tasting one another more than he'd ever thought he'd have the privilege of doing. Her hand on his cheek wandered until she was sliding through his hair, nails on his scalp until she found her way to the pillow cushioning their heads. 

With her hand stationed on the pillow and leg hooked over his thigh, she made the move to roll their bodies. Harry kept her steady with his arm a cage around her waist, helping her as she moved to sit astride him. 

Harry couldn't help himself when he pulled away, eager to see her above him for the first time. (Y/N) looked down at him with swollen lips and glazed eyes. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, her breasts pressing into the material of her top, nipples outlined. He could feel the weight of her on his lap, warm and heavy over his thickening cock. 

He was sure a look of awe molded his face, only heightened when he ran his hands over her body. The barrier of her top couldn't shield him from feeling the dips and curves. He felt the swell of her breasts and ladder of her ribs as if nothing were in the way. The heat of her form radiated out of her, painting over his already warmed palms. 

"You're so gorgeous," he muttered, feeling compelled to bathe her in praise and nothing but. "So, so gorgeous, love. 'M so fucking lucky, oh my god." 

Her smile was sweet over her kiss-swollen mouth. "I'm the lucky one," she argued, "If you could see what I see right now..." 

She trailed off when her attention was handed to the route his hands took over her body. He wanted so badly to concentrate on her words, but how could he do that when the hem of her shirt was pulled tight over the expanse of her thighs. He tucked his hands under that taut hem and pulled upwards. A breathy silence filled the room. 

More and more of her body was revealed as he tugged. Plush, dreamy thighs. Flared hips. Bare, panty-less core (he wondered if she felt the way his cock reacted at the sight). Soft stomach and curved waist. Soft skin blooming with goosebumps when he reached her ribs. The underside of her breasts. Harry's hands stalled then. 

(Y/N) nodded down at him, the permission he was looking for. 

In one final tug, Harry pulled her shirt over her head. The material fell into a pile on his floor, out of sight out of mind. Especially when he had what he did on his lap. 

Bare for his eyes only, (Y/N)'s body was presented to him in soft dips and swells. Her nipples were tight over her breasts, chest heaving as she pulled in deep breaths. Her skin was warm, soft and fragranced, drawing him in like a honeybee to a flower. Everything he ever needed was right before him—inside and out. 

He could feel his jaw go slack as he grazed his hands down her shoulders, skating down her breasts and soft stomach. All the way down to the bones of her hips and plush thighs. 

Only one thought came to mind. 

"I love you." 

The gentle smile on her face felt out of place compared to her dilated eyes and Harry's hard cock. "I love you too," she replied simply, dropping down to press her lips to his, "So much, H." 

A careful roll of her hips over his took away his breath. His mouth stilled under hers, parted in a small gape as she moved her kissing to the very corner. He frantically grabbed at her hips, fingertips denting into the soft flesh. 

He felt every tightening and shifting of her muscles when she gave another dragging rock of her core against him. Against his chest, he felt the tips of her breasts grazing over his skin. 

Fuck, she was naked. (Y/N) was naked on top of him. She was fucking him through his clothes. What the fuck is his life, what the fu—

(Y/N) swirled her hips, disrupting the shy rhythm she was developing and Harry's breathing. 

It was clear, even through the material of his sweats, that she was wet. She really did want him no matter what he lacked. 

The thought had him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting upwards. It was (Y/N)'s turn to let out a squeaking breath, taken aback. He was sure she was able to feel just how ready he was, how desperate he was to have more, feel more, touch more of her. 

"Harry," she started, a pitch to her voice, "I—Are you.. If you're ready, I-I am. Please." 

"I am, I am," he muttered, "Jus'... I have something, hold on."

Blindly reaching for the bedside table, Harry rooted around the drawer. (Y/N) was more than distracting as she dragged her hands down his chest, bringing him back to the last time he felt such soft hands grazing his skin. 

But, he needed to focus. He needed to find the box and open the flap and pull out a condom as quickly as he could. In hindsight, he realized it might not have been the best idea to buy two separate boxes; now he couldn't be sure which one he was grabbing until it was on. 

"Do you need hel—Oh." Blinking back to reality, he saw a smile bloom over (Y/N)'s lips. "Did you buy condoms?" 

"Um," he muttered, "Maybe?" 

(Y/N) reached into the drawer herself and pulled out a foil packet with ease. She handled the shiny square, sitting back on his hips above him. 

"A little presumptuous, don't you think?" she teased as she tore the top off, "You know it's not good to assume." 

With his hands on her hips, thumbs sitting in the creases between her thighs and the small of her stomach. "I mean, you are in my bed." 

A bubbling laugh filled his room as she threw her head back. "You're right. You're just well prepared, I guess." With the foiled packet ripped open and ready, she looked at him with raised brows. "Did you...?" 

He swallowed, fighting off the sheepish flush that wanted to bloom over his bare chest. "I've never put on one before." 

"I can do it," she assured him, that gentle, patient smile on her lips. 

All it took was a nod from him before (Y/N) shuffled over his form. Sitting back, she made enough room to pull the waist of his sweats to the middle of his thighs. His cock bobbed out, ruddy head already throbbing with a thick vein on the underside. The chilled air of his bedroom was enough to have goosebumps flicking over his form. 

When he saw (Y/N) pull the rubber from the packet, he knew it was going to be in his best interest to look only at her face. He wasn't going to be able to handle the sight of her handling his cock, not when he was already so high strung. 

Of course, that plan went down the drain the second he saw her curl over and press a precursory kiss to the head of his cock. 

Why the fuck would she do that? Why would she do that when he was already teetering on the edge of his control? He could feel a blurt of precum drip over his crown. 

"Sorry," she muttered, stretching the condom from the coil made in the foil, "I just missed it and all." 

What the fuck? 

Harry didn't have another moment to dwell when he felt her begin to roll the condom over his length. He hadn't even recovered from her kiss before he was contending with the soft of her hands once more. She must have plucked the ultra-thin style from his drawer with the way he could feel every cease and ridge of her palm. His balls drew up tight against his shaft, matching the coiling pit he felt in his stomach. 

His hands on her hips grew tense, holding her tightly lest he lose control much too early. He knew good and well he wasn't going to be able to last very long at all tonight, but he didn't have to give in this quickly. 

"Does it feel okay?" (Y/N) asked, decidedly breathless compared to just a moment before.  

"Yeah, yeah," Harry babbled as she continued to stroke her hand over his length, "Feels so good." 

Too good, he wanted to amend. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen bunched, readying for something he couldn't allow to happen yet

He could hear the smile in her voice when she let out a small good but he didn't have it in him to play around or listen to her teasing. He needed to be inside her before he cut the night short before it even began. 

"S-Stop, stop," he said, reaching out to stop her touch, "Sorry." 

"Too much?" she asked, already adjusting where she sat on his thighs. 

"Too much," he agreed, "Don't wanna—Not before we've—" 

"I know," she said, filling in the blanks his stumbling left behind, "Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," he breathed, "I love you." 

A soft blink of her lashes, short smile on her lips. "I love you, too." 

Truthfully, Harry thought he would have a moment before she moved again. But, he had to watch in awe as she raised to her knees, shuffling to hover above his stiff cock. She muttered something when she reached for his length, holding him steady before looking towards him. 

"You trust me?"

 His heart could have cracked right through his chest and made its way right to her then. "I trust you." 

Holding his breath, Harry watched as she sunk down on his cock. The warmth hit him first. 

Never had his hand—covered in lube and his own body heat—had ever felt that warm. She moved slowly, allowing her pussy to split open on him as she accepted the tip inside her channel. The tightness hit him next. He thought her throat was snug, but that had nothing on the way her walls pulsed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper. He could feel the ridges and texture, completely unique to the woman above him. Just how wet she was hit him last. A slick noise sounded when she sat down on him, clit hitting the thatch of tamed hair at his base.

He had disappeared completely inside of her. Breathless noises left (Y/N) as she adjusted, her own eyes going a bit glossy when he dared to match them. She wasn't even moving, staying stationary above him, and yet he could feel the way her insides fluttered around him each time she attempted to catch her breath. 

Her thighs were spread wide around his hips, chest heaving and skin bubbling with warmth. She placed her hands on the small of his stomach, palms molding around the blocky muscles on his abdomen. Her fingertips dug gently into him, the clarity of her nails pressing into his flesh was enough to tie him to the world. 

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice broken. 

"Sorry, sorry," she squeaked, "Just give m-me a second. You're—oh my god, H, you're—" 

He wanted to know exactly what it was that she thought of him, but it was its own fantasy to see her so out of it. To see her unable to even complete a sentence when he was inside her. 

Fuck, he was inside her. 

Harry was having sex with (Y/N). Holy shit. 

Almost involuntarily, he rocked his hips upwards. Her pussy clenched around him. He watched as she exhaled, the air pulled out of her. 

A call of his name filled the room, pitched and dreamy as she blinked at him with half-lidded eyes. 

"Tell me," she started, swallowing around her tongue, "Tell me if it's too much, okay?" 

Harry couldn't manage any words. He only nodded his head. 

As he watched her raise herself to her knees, his cock sliding out of her, Harry held onto her hips like a lifeline. He was going to have to hope against hope that he didn't immediately cum the second she sank down again. 

Unceremoniously, she dropped back down to his hips with a soft slap of their hips meeting. Her pussy fluttered around him, adding to the friction of her tight opening squeezing down his length. 

"Shit," he murmured, his toes curling and hands tightening. 

Spurred on by his reaction, (Y/N) performed the action against, curating a rhythm with every drop of her hips against his. Her slick opening was like a vice around him, her wetness dripping down until it smeared across his base. His balls slapped against her rear everytime she sat down, knocking the breath out of her in small uh's leaving her chest. Her breasts bounced above him, nipples tight in the open air. 

Harry laid back in awe. Pure amazement coated his brain. How pleasure like this could exist, and he could partake in it with a woman like this was a miracle in itself. 

"(Y/N)," he moaned, reaching his hands over her body. He couldn't touch enough of her, feel enough of her against his skin. "You're so—fuck—'M—" 

"I know, I know," she rushed out, nodding her head as she moved her hands to land atop his. "I want to cum with you, I want to cum with you."

 "I—I don't—" he stumbled. What was the hottest way he could tell her that he was already on borrowed time? "'M sorry, love. Y'feel too good, I can't—" 

(Y/N) cut him off with a smear of her lips against his, laying flush against his body. Her breasts pressed against his chest, sweat trapped between their bodies as her hips continued to rock against him. He couldn't help himself, bucking up against her as her walls pulsed around him. He swore he could feel the pounding of her heartbeat through their skin, the cages of their ribs.

Moans spilled from her lips as she rolled her hips against his, clit pressed against his base. Every thrust upwards, meeting her in the middle, was enough to knock calls of his name from her chest. Pussy gave snug sucks around him, pulling and pulling and pulling at everything he was willing to give. 

Her kissing was messy, off centered and clumsy, but it was the best he'd ever had. His favorite. She was his favorite everything, the best (albeit, only) he'd ever had in every way possible. His eyes scrunched closed, features screwed up in pleasure he only just realized existed. All at the hands of the woman he loved.

"Harry," she murmured, voice heavy and thick as it fanned over his mouth, "Harry, you can fi-finish whenever you want. You don't have to wait—oh my god—wait for me." 

He wasn't sure when he started speaking, but eventually he could hear the rambling mummer of his own voice declaring that he loved her over and over again. His hands roaming over her body turned into a hugging vice, keeping her tight against him as he offered sloppy kisses. His hips bucked in short, clumsy thrusts against her, the soft slaps of their skin mixing wit the slick noises of every inch of him sinking in and out of her opening. 

She was so wet, and warm, and tight, and, fuck, this was a dream. This whole moment, this night, this life was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. Not when here he was able to feel (Y/N)'s body against his, and her heart hammering out of her chest in reach of his own. Not when she was kissing him and soothing him with her own declarations of love. Not when he trusted her more than anything. 

In the pit of his stomach, Harry began unraveling. His throat ran dry, a soundless gape parting his lips. (Y/N) moved her kissing to the side of his face, over the bridge of his nose, one the height of his cheekbones. 

Different than any time he'd managed to get himself off, he was barely aware of the first ropes of his cum spurting from his body. He was much too enveloped in the feel of (Y/N) and her body to realize that the extra warmth he felt was his release filling the condom. All he felt was the blinding relief of the pounds of tension flooding from his bones. He tried to keep up with (Y/N) meeting her hips halfway as she rocked above him, her own rhythm being disrupted by the hold he had on her, but there was no room in his brain for control over his body. 

He was left to the mercy of the harsh thrusts upwards, coinciding with the roping of his cum. Clarity only sunk in when he began to come down. His release came in short bursts then, matching the aftershocks he felt at the motion of (Y/N)'s body above him. 

Drawing away just enough, (Y/N) cupped her hands around his cheeks. "H?" she asked, breathless. 

"'M here, 'm here," he croaked, nodding his head in jerky motions. "'M so sorry, I didn't—I wanted us to be together, I jus' couldn't—" 

"I know," she cut him off, her voice ever patient despite the heat lacing her veins, "It's okay, it's okay. I don't mind, I'm just happy you felt good." 

"I feel perfect, you're perfect." He could only hold her tight against his chest, uncaring of the sweat glistening on his skin. He felt better, more complete to feel her so close. "Did you...?" 

From where she burrowed into the crook of his neck, (Y/N) shook her head. "But, it's okay," she rushed out, "I don't nee—" 

"No, no," he started, "Tha's not fair, you—I want you to feel good, too." 

"I did," she insisted, "I do, but you—" 

A gasp escaped her when Harry fit his hand between their bodies. He reached where they met, hips locked together until he met the top of her slit. He could feel the way she had split open to accommodate him, slick and puffy from the way she had bounced atop him. Her clit throbbed when he pressed the pad of his finger to the bud, coinciding with the squeaking that came from the back of her throat. His own throat let out a strangled moan when he felt the way her walls fluttered and tightened around him. 

"Harry, you don't—oh my god—" 

He didn't pay her fumbling words any mind. He didn't care if she didn't think this was necessary. He wasn't going to be like the rejects before him that made so many claims and pretended to be the best, only to let her down and push her to go home without release. While he was sure he was far from her best (that would come with more practice, he hoped), he was at least going. to make sure that she left his room with something worthwhile. 

It didn't take very long before he felt her become impossibly warm around him, slick dripping around his cock. The ultra-thin rubber around his cock did little to dull the tight vice of heat around him. His breath was knocked from his lungs, his skin hypersensitive as he worked her through her own orgasm. If he hadn't already just cum, he was sure that feeling just her release alone would be enough to make him grow hard and desperate again. 

Floating back down to earth, Harry knew she was back with him when she pressed a small kiss to the line of his jaw. 

"Thanks," she peeped.

Harry let out a bubbling laugh, the edges of his voice dipped in exhaustion. "Don't thank me for that," he muttered, holding her tight as he slipped his hand away from her clit, "You're silly."

He could feel the way she smiled hearing him call her the same thing she always did him. 

"Love you," she crooned, "A lot." 

"Love you more," he countered. It was the truth. 

He couldn't imagine another being in the whole universe could be capable of holding the amount of love and affection he currently housed in his body. Not when he was the one getting to hold the most perfect woman life had to offer. 

(Y/N) nuzzled into his neck. "Sure," she teased, giving into his game for now, "We need to get cleaned up, H." 

Harry shook his head, keeping her close to him. "Five more minutes. Please." 

She didn't say anything, only melting against him. His eyes fluttered to a close, content.

—————

Harry's eyes followed his finger as he traced it down the line of her nose. He felt the even puffs of breaths fan across his hand as he reached the tip. A small, sleepy smile touched his mouth. 

He wasn't sure how early it was or just how long it'd been since he cracked his eyes open, but in the quiet of her bedroom (washing his sheets was a task they pushed off for today), time didn't seem to be real. Eternity existed in this small moment, letting him memorialize every plane and line of her features. If he could, he would lay here for the rest of his life counting each of her lashes. 

He thought he would feel so different this morning, wrapped in her sheets. He thought that his skin would feel different, or the way he felt about her might have shifted. He thought there might have been some invisible barrier that would have been lifted, something that made it clear that he wasn’t who he was a day ago. But, Harry only felt like himself. 

If anything, there was an anxiety that had lifted. There was more of him to give and he wasn’t afraid to do so. As long as it was with (Y/N), anyway.  

Focused on the sweep of his finger over her lips, Harry hadn't realized he wasn't alone until her mouth came to a pucker and kissed his digit. Flicking his gaze up to hers, he found her just barely blinking her eyes open to see him in the same morning light he was admiring her in. 

"You're awake," he murmured, voice rumbling and low. 

She gave another kiss to his finger before her mouth bloomed into a smile. "You're awake and still in bed," she teased, "Last night must have really done a number on you." 

"A little," he smiled, "Worth it." 

Tipping her chin just so, she pressed a single kiss to his lips. She took a moment to nudge her nose against his own, an affectionate puppy's kiss, before rolling away. 

Harry watched as she stretched, a breathy whimper squeaking from her chest as she curled her toes and elongated her arms. 

"H?" 

He hummed an acknowledgment, eyes drawn to the lines of her body. 

"Is it too soon to ask you to shower with me?" 

"No," he rushed out, "I mean—yes! It's not too soon, no. Yes, I want to shower with you." 

"You're silly," she laughed, shaking her head before turning her sights on him. 

The smile she had on her lips was warm and pretty, creasing the corners of her eyes. He'd follow her anywhere when she looked at him like that. Even into the unknown.

He trusts her.  

—————

cherries are thought to be the first taste of love; the fruit picked by Venus.

:)))))) final part!! o really hope you all liked going on this little journey with me! the h is so special to me so I hope you liked him and his story like I did! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and pleaseeeee let me know if you have any fun ideas or anything you want to share!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!

Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)

While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths

woof where to begin

it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter

bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut

But this. . . this was something else entirely.

So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.

You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.

The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.

When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.

There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.

Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.

Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows

Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .

"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.

For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.

In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.

Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.

Cass and Rhys leap from their seats

You're alive, although incredibly weak.

Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.

For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.

Not that you were complaining.

They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.

Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.

When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.

You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.

Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.

Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.

Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.

[xitsensunmoon]

The order of things

Part 1 | Part 2

People tend to forget that Sun and Moon are literal items. They have no free will, no choice, no freedom, nothing at all. Everything that can be in their possession, can also be torn away by the company and they won't be able to do anything about it. And the worst thing about it all is that they need to believe they're nothings here because if they don't it will crush them. Their opinions? Nothing. Feelings? Never existed in the first place. Memories? It belongs to Faz co and to them only.

What will happen if you treat them as equals? Denial. They cannot let themselves believe you. Because if you're right... the reality is a very cruel thing.

This particular comic is part of a storyline where the dca physically cannot have romantic feelings.

Yet.

As much as I love the sweet fiction I also love the cruel realism. Programming is a very simple thing - if you don't put something in the code, it won't appear by itself. The daycare attendant is not programmed to be able to love.

But self-operating AI can learn. Especially when someone wants it to.

The virus makes them feel a lot. Probably too much. It's a new program, new commands, new triggers, new opportunities to push the boundaries.

It doesn't make them feel love of course. But they think that it does. It feels like love to them.

Not like they know how it's supposed to feel anyway.

And while Moon tries to embrace it, to feel, to understand...

...Sun hides. But not from his feelings, he hides from the fact that the virus affects him as well.

It can't be true. Why would he be dangerous like Moon? No, if he ignores it, it will go away. Moon is the one who's broken. Sun is totally fine, everything will be fine. He will make sure of it.

For Moon's part, he's fed up with hiding. It's always him who's in the shadow. But with the virus?

Freedom for Moon. Control for Sun.

AI will learn.

[pixielover1]

Wild Flowers.

Part one. Part two. Part three.

Monster!König x Reader.

The sun illuminated the quiet hillside like a stunning oil painting. You stirred awake as the beams of light slipped past your thin curtains. Yawning, you sat up in your bed. Waking up early was exciting today because it was finally time to harvest your crops. You quickly put on a floral sundress and a pair of sandals. Pulling on your gardening hat, you practically skipped outside, moving to the back of your quaint cabin. The wind nipped at your skin but the sun shooed it away with its warm rays. Your chest rose slowly as you took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air. You redirected your attention to the flourishing plants and a smile snuck onto your face.

You carefully tended to your crops, clipping off ripe fruits and veggies as you leaned over your developed plot. Gentle, melodic hums escaped your mouth as you tossed the produce into your woven basket, the birds singing with you. It was such a beautiful morning, but to König, you were the most beautiful.

In the camouflage of the woods he watched you through the foliage, panting. The sound of your soft music gave him goosebumps, his furred tail whacking against poor trees that concealed him. König was a victim of secret experiments when he was in the military. The underground organization subjected him to a series of operations, changing his DNA in a remarkable scientific feat. But what was supposed to be dog-like enhancements for battle, resulted in an uncontrollable lycan. König tore through the illegal facility shortly after he was deemed “ready” to be a weapon. Since that day he roamed the mountain side, hunting like an average wolf. Nothing resembling benignity was inside him, he was simply a wild beast. Until he found you. Humanity struck him the first time he spotted you foraging in the woods. In that moment his heart began to beat again, for you. Since then, he’s been keeping a watchful eye on you. Your life is peaceful and he likes to believe he is the cause of it.

Your focus on your activity was light until you heard a loud hiss. Startled, you look down to see an aggravated snake. You jump to your feet and wearily create space between you and the reptile. There was no way you were going to pick the thing up, but you also couldn't leave it here to eat your plants or mess up the roots. You kept your eyes on the snake until a shadow was casted upon you. From your left, a large hand comes down to grab the rowdy snake. It’s thrown deep into the woods and the threat is diminished. A small ping of relief fills in you until you realize. What the fuck just grabbed the snake?

Your neck cranes up to see a drooling König, his chest heaving. Your heart drops and you’re stuck in place. König stands at a firm 6'10”, dwarfing anyone's height. Wolf-like ears stick out from his short hair that was tangled with twigs and dirt. He wore a battered t-shirt, stained with what you believed to be blood and soil. He looked terrifying even as his tail swung behind him through his ripped up pants. He was delighted to finally be face to face with you. The way your face was illuminated as a gorgeous golden brown by the sun made his heart flutter like never before, even if you were also cowering in fear.

Your legs twitch as if begging you to run. So just then, you did. You turn and bolt into the forest, running faster than you knew you could. The beast was hot on your heels, easily catching up to your sprint. You kept up for as long as you could before your face harshly met the rough soil. König lingered above you, keeping your body pinned to the ground. Helpless whines escape your mouth as you assume this is your death day. You can hear his deep, shaky breaths as his body covers yours. At your side you catch a view of his huge hands and murderous claws. Your breath hitches and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the fatal blow. But it never came. Instead, König lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Filled with a burst of bravery, you beat on his back and screamed at him to let you go. Opening your eyes, you gulp as you see how high up you were from the woods’ floor. He carried you back to your cottage quickly, not responding to any of your protests. He followed your scent as he pushed your front door open, accidentally breaking a hinge. He gently places you on your bed, the action a stark contrast to his appearance. He stands at the foot of your bed and you notice how he barely fits into your house. He has to bend his neck to keep his head from hitting your ceiling.

When he catches the shimmer of your sweet tears, something wakes within him. Feelings along the lines of sympathy and lust. His eyes reflect what he is feeling too easily, he is truly an open book. You remain on your bed, trembling from being subject to his gaze that is desperately trying to undress you. The silence breaks when his hand twitches, reaching towards you. You whimper, still assuming the worst. As much as he enjoys the tempting sounds, he knows he doesn’t want you to feel this way. His large fur-covered frame lets out a low growl and with the same speed he used to catch you moments before, he leaves your house. The sun was still kind and warm as you were left breathless and stunned from the freakish encounter.

Hello! This is my first story, i hope you enjoy. I am open to constructive criticism. :)

[ckret2]

So what happens if You're Athiest? Is it like a ping pong depending on what you did? Or is it more like you choose which judicial system or oblivion. Which does that even count as a belief if you believe in oblivion???

(For context for anyone who missed it, we're talking about this headcanon post, this isn't an actual religious discussion.)

We know, for a fact, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that ghosts exist in Gravity Falls. Let's start with that. This is a universe where, all other matters of theology being up in the air, the existence of the soul and of continued existence after death is Canonically Confirmed And Real.

And so, souls & life after death being confirmably real—they continue to be real whether you believe in them or not.

We don't know much about the afterlife-afterlife in Gravity Falls beyond what little bits we get from Bill. We know he's been to hell and gotten kicked out, and he claims "heaven" is a dimension where you get everything you want. The soul contract on TINAWDC lists "heaven, hell, purgator[y?], big corner, flow state, the dream house, the reincarnation processing center, axolotl’s tank, and consequences hole" as some (but not all) possible afterlives. The Theraprism appears to be an afterlife (Bill shows up there after getting killed, leaving his corpse behind, and he'll remain there until he can reincarnate; and since it's literally located inside a mind, it might be located in the mindscape).

But, while we might not know much about afterlives: we do know afterlives exist.

In most human religions, you go to an afterlife whether you believe in it or not. Believers tend to believe that all humans go to This One Afterlife (or One Of These Available Afterlives Depending On What You Did). Most Christians don't think you can opt out of heaven/hell if you're an atheist. Buddhists don't think you're excused from participating in samsara if you don't think it's real. I doubt the ancient Egyptians believed you'd be pardoned from having your heart weighed if you told Anubis you thought he was imaginary.

You'd be hard-pressed to find afterlife beliefs where what you believe in matters to what afterlife you go to—except in cases where you're rewarded for believing the right thing and punished for believing the wrong thing.

So I am assuming that, if we're talking about a setting where afterlives are canonically real, that's how they operate:

Nobody's setting up afterlives to accommodate the beliefs of people who are wrong about whether souls & afterlives exist

you're subject to an afterlife whether you think it's real or not.

In light of all that, I don't think getting sent to a particular afterlife has to do with belief; I think it has to do with bureaucracy.

If you are born, you are probably the citizen of a country. You didn't ask to be. You didn't consent to being a citizen. But you are one anyway. The government you had no say in and don't even know exists yet decided you belong to them. If you don't agree to be their citizen, tough titties. You were born on the property they've decided is theirs, and/or they consider your parents citizens; so they consider you a citizen too. When you become an adult, they'll ask you to pay taxes to them because they're your country! You never agreed to any of this! But you were born into the system so you're participating in it whether you want to or not. Sometimes you can stop being a citizen, or become a citizen of some other country, but it's very rare, very difficult, and takes a whole lot of paperwork.

I assume that a Generic Non-Denominational Multi-Afterlife setting works the same way. You may be able to choose which afterlife you go to, if you meet whatever criteria there are for transferring to that afterlife; but one way or another, you're going to an afterlife. If you don't choose one, one's chosen for you. You can't opt out of being in the system just because you don't believe it's real.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can I ask why you don’t like Vil much? If you haven’t answered that already?

For me, I also didn’t like him at first but loving Rook has turned me into a Vil lover 😭.

[Referencing this tier list!]

A significant part of it is no fault of Vil's own, it's just... I have a very strong aversion to celebrity characters. This dislike scales up the more famous that celebrity character is + how much attention is brought to their status, and well... Y'all know perfectly well how famous Vil is 🤡 This is why I also dislike his father to some degree, though it's to a lesser extent because I at least appreciate Eric being involved in his son’s life + find Eric to be friendly.

Celebrity characters tend to make me feel deeply uncomfortable chiefly because their careers put them in a position where they're ripe for parasocialism (which is when one party, ie their fans, extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, ie the object of their affection, is completely unaware of the other's existence). Parasocialism in of itself is not a negative thing by default; it can, in fact, be a powerful motivator to improve oneself or can significantly lift one's mood. Some sectors entirely rely on parasocialism to function (such as the "influencing" industry).

Where it starts to get iffy for me is when we veer into the most parasocial of fans who will take extreme actions to support and/or hate on an individual. These are your stalkers, your sasaeng fans, etc. While I'm aware that these are the vocal minority of a celebrity's fanbases, the kinds of things these extremely parasocial fans pull off deeply unnerves me. Like Vil, the celebrities involved are by no means at fault—but they’re always “tainted” in my mind by the association due to the sheer magnitude of what the most crazed fans do in their name 💀 So when I think of that celebrity… I also think of the insane stuff they have to deal with from their fans and that stresses me out.

I find the whole “celebrity worship” culture in of itself very odd. It’s difficult for me to form an attachment to a real person that doesn’t or cannot reciprocate. (It’s easy to do with fictional characters because they, by design, can’t exactly reciprocate and I can “turn them off” whenever I want to.) By extension, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around activities like following the celebrity’s life closely, supporting any and all projects due to their involvement alone, and collecting merch/signatures. Thinking of Vil’s fans doing this… (or, as seen in the Tapis Rouge event, getting emotional/shrieking for him, begging for a glance, fainting, etc.) it invokes those feelings of discomfort again.

Finally (regarding the celebrity thing), Vil and other famous people tend to be in the spotlight. I don’t really like this sort of a presentation; it calls too much attention to them. This runs counter to the types of characters I tend to gun for: the schemers who operate from the shadows, typically appearing innocuous or humble at first glance. These characters stay out of the spotlight and prefer it that way, as it allows them more freedoms to enact their plots. Celebrities’ positions don’t really allow for that. Even if their off-camera persona is completely different than their on-camera one, the attention they’re showered with never seems to fade.

I also find Vil’s entire presence way too intense (even when he’s lined up next to arguably much more physically imposing students like the 180 cm+ squad or any muscular character). This is why I can tolerate Neige but dislike Vil; Neige comes off as innocent and approachable—so much so that I don’t even register him as an idol or a celebrity in my mind. He’s just a cute boy-next-door type inviting me to dance and sing with him and his friends!

Vil’s hair, makeup, tall heels, the need for perfection, his sternness. It’s a LOT to take in. I can admire the confidence and the tenacity with which Vil pursues beauty, but at the same time… it can come off as super overwhelming. I don’t think I could comfortably breathe in the same space as him without feeling like I’ve offended his sensibilities 😅 Sometimes I get a little anxious just reading him scolding others; it feels like he’s reaching through the screen and scolding me too. I get the overwhelming vibes even through the things Vil creates or commissions; the composition and choreography of Absolutely Beautiful was so oppressive and centered on winning that I disassociated from my own school’s team 💀

Some other minor, miscellaneous gripes I have with Vil:

I don’t generally have a problem with Vil’s leadership or how he guides/teaches others. (His behavior is very similar to what I’ve experienced within my own culture’s upbringing.) However, I do not approve of all of his methods and I do think he does “too much” at times + oversteps, making me feel uneasy.

His tastes don’t really match mine! It’s a little too “glam”, especially the ensembles with heavy smoky eyes.

What’s with him dying the ends of his hair that color… It makes me think of him dunking his head in grape Kool-aid as a dye 😭/j

There we are ^^ I hope that explanation was sufficient!! I tried to explain my… admittedly complex feelings behind my dislike of Vil as neatly as I could. Nothing against the guy, how he is written, or his fans (both in-universe and irl), of course!! This is just my opinion.

[raayllum]

Gift Giving & Primal vs First Elves :: Or Going Off Into the Deep Lore Deep End

Remember that meta I compiled about Greek mythology, deceptive gift giving, and TDP? Yeah it's time to talk about the gift motif properly as well as some other deep lore things because these excellent thoughts ( @spicyviren, @kradogsrats, and @its-leethee) got the wheels in my brain spinning.

AKA an unknown amount of sectioned word vomit into the nature of magic, where it comes from, how deep magic operates, some gifts and motifs, and Leola, just a little.

Let's go.

Gift Motif

The gift motif is one that's a bit of a slowburn in TDP. While characters will often pass and hand over objects — tools, artefacts, metaphorical responsibilities or trust (handing over the egg, for example) — to one another, there's not a big emphasis on gifts in the first three seasons.

There are some, such as Callum's letter from Harrow (that he's given by Claudia once again initially as a goodbye), Ezran giving Bait to Barius in S3, and Rayla's family pendant, but most of these, as you've might already noticed, are contextualized within Goodbyes. Whether the gift motif will amount in arc 2 to escaping this "final gift" context remains to be seen, but that's how it tends to work in interpersonal relationships.

There is an element of peace offering in hoping that returning Zym — a gift and/or gesture of good will — will help usher in peace, but I think (as of now at least) that ties further into the series' theme of Reciprocal Exchange (the assassin mission being an eye for an eye vs olive branch for olive branch) than outright gift giving. (Although we will probably talk about Exchange and gift giving at some point because there is also a thematic tether there.)

However, there is one other thing that is more and more often referred to as a gift in Arc 1, and that's Magic. Specifically, dark magic.

Now, this actually isn't that dissimilar from what the Goodbye gifts amount to, either. In Harrow's letter, he gifts Callum the Key of Aaravos believing it to be a powerful magical relic of some kind; Rayla's pendant makes its way from Ethari to her to Callum, who then uses it for magical purposes; and Bait, as a glow toad, is connected to an arcanum himself.

I do think it's noteworthy though that in Arc 1, (dark) magic being a gift is emphasized upon, specifically because of these lines for Khessa:

Upon first watching it back in 2019, it made sense that dark magic would be referred to this way, even when I just thought maybe it was that humans had been given 'nothing,' as Claudia says. Dark magic is closely tied to ideas of theft and thievery — stealing magic from others to harness its power for yourself — and the series is deeply interested in concepts of ownership or who has 'true' ownership over something, in magic, a throne/crown, a price to pay, etc. This follows neatly into Arc 2 (for ex: why Karim seeking to steal the Sun Seed is a metaphorical dark path even if it didn't outright involve dark magic through Kim'Dael), which we'll build on later.

That said, given the depth of the knowledge at the Great Bookery that is open to Sunfire elves more than any other type of elf, and the information that Tales of Xadia and Ripples gives us...

While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, [Leola] gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells. With the unicorn’s gift, the most determined minds among the humans could finally harness primal magic.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters [...] Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

It makes it more than likely than, unlike other elves such as Lujanne or Ibis, Khessa had reason to believe/know that there used to be primal human mages in the past... and that it wasn't 'enough' for them ultimately, because they still hungered and developed (and were given?) dark magic. "Your kind could not be satisfied with what you were given" was about the rejection of primal magic from Leola (the unicorns) in favour of a darker kind that involves theft and "dirtying yourself" (5x08) with dark magic.

But at the same time, this complicates the Gift Giving motif of including not just dark magic, but being also for primal magic — for humans, at least.

And also for elves. (Ignoring how "great orb" is very similar to "great one" for now.)

Janai: It was a gift. But there's more to it than that. The great orb began as this. Karim: This is... a sun seed?

Now, the Great Orb being grown from a Sun 'literal' seed makes sense. We've known for a long time that in Xadia, "magic is everywhere. It's just part of the vibrance or spirit of things" (1x05). Primal magic naturally occurring in plants, animals, and elves likewise makes sense on that note. Just as not "many could bear the gruelling path of a rune mage," Karim cannot bear to have patience and faith in something that will only come to fruition centuries later.

That said, I raise the question: how functionally different is the Great Orb from say, a sun primal stone would hypothetically be? If primal stones and primal magic were gifts to humanity from unicorns — from creatures connected to the Star arcanum, for lack of a better understanding — then why not magic from Startouch (?) elves to other elves.

How do we know that all magic isn't simply a gift that was given once upon a time?

From the First Elves to the Primal Elves.

Primal vs First Elves

So what's the difference between First Elves and Primal elves?

Well we have a few pieces of lore:

1) Zubeia's status as a "heavenly majesty" (which we'll come back to in the next section) gives her authority to speak in the name of the first elves, who are effectively gods to humankind and/or Xadians ("Have our Gods died? / Where do the fabled Great Ones hide?" —the Epic of the Void

2) It seems that the First Elves are, as of now and for a while, exclusively in reference to what would otherwise be called Startouch elves, although the latter is seemingly a name that came later given Rayla's affirmation of "ancient legends". This is reaffirmed in Tales of Xadia's two lone mention of First Elves:

No group of elves presents a greater mystery than the Startouch elves. Sometimes called the First Elves, those bound to the Star primal are rumored to have made great marks on Xadia’s ancient history—but beyond story and legend, little real evidence is left to us today [...] Among the few extant records of Startouch elves are the Scrolls of the First Elves, now kept in the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea.

3) At a post-S2 con in 2019 (how's that for a far reach?) we got a timeline of the events of Xadia laid out for us. The description of the very first piece of history and era we know of goes as follows, with the Rise of Elarion happening 2000 years ago re: the Dragon Prince era ("The Return of Aaravos"):

The Era of the First elves is the first recorded era 5,000 years prior to the current era. Dragons and elves were not allied during this period. There were no distinct primal elves. This is an era before all that. Humans suffered during this period. 

—2019 con timeline

4) Justin and Aaron reaffirm this at the 2:30 ish minute mark of this video (a couple of months before even S3 was released) by reaffirming distinctly to Primal elves. Later (7:40-ish mark) we see this distinction reaffirmed again through the statement of, "The patterns have been that these primal based elves have grown cultures and civilizations that have become separate and differentiated from kind of whatever the early days were with the First elves were."

Okay, so there was 100% a time where there were only First Elves, and humans, and Primal elves as we knew them (maybe still with the hands and horns, but no arcanum? Or no singular, distinct arcanum) didn't exist. Why does this matter?

This is where the deep lore timeline gets tricky, as we don't know precisely when 1) humans received magic and 2) at what stage the First Elves / Great Ones / Startouch elves 'left' Xadia, only that they did, apparently, when Elarion (the human city) needed help: "Elarion, unworthy whelp / Wept as the stars turned black the sky / They donned their masks / They turned their backs / And left Elarion to die". Why abandon the city (beyond indifference/cruelty as Aaravos would likely claim), who knows.

However, we can assume the timeline looks something like this:

Era of the First Elves

Primal elves (and presumably archdragons *) are crafted / develop into being, whatever that means

Humans are magic-less and are having a bad time

Unicorns / Leola extend sympathy despite the fact that the First Elves tell her not to (Book One: Novelization / Tales of Xadia)

Humans have primal magic (Ripples / Tales of Xadia)

This attracts negative attention, consolidated in Elarion ("the stars she asked their light to cast / and stop the dragons’ fiery might" / "as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted")

Elarion asks for help and the Stars leave

Aaravos, the last star — presumably already Fallen from the First Elves — gives them dark magic under the guise of protection even though it will inevitably help him (i.e. give him the ability to possess people)

Dark magic replaces primal magic as the primary form for humans

Tension and violence escalates (unicorns are hunted to near extinction). Sol Regem is removed as King of the Dragons

Under Dragon Queen Luna Tenebris, the daughter of an elven leader suggests the Judgement of the Half-Moon, causing for humans to be banished rather than eradicated, and the continent split in two

Again, nothing too crazy / not too much we haven't already known or guessed at for a while.

But like I said, I'm gonna propose two theories, so bear with me:

Theory #1: What is Deep Magic?

The First Elves engaged with what we're gonna call Deep or Old Magic, for lack of a better term. There can be an assumption at times that this magic would be more 'pure' or less 'diluted' than dark magic or even the primal magic we've seen on screen. However, I think that's less than likely. Dark magic is often times a bad path for good outcomes, and primal magic can be a 'good' magic for bad outcomes (the blood freezing spell, for example).

While dark magic is a more textually malevolent magic system and primal magic is more true neutral — able to be used as a tool and a source of connection for the user — I don't think this necessarily means that Deep Magic is inherently enlightening (we see with the Ocean arcanum and S5 that knowledge can be an immense burden) or that it's on the opposite end of the spectrum and is outright benevolent.

What, then, am I suggesting Deep Magic to be? Well, we have some clues likewise from the same old interview post-s2 that we haven't had much basis to (potentially) understand until now, in which it's stated:

Deeper magic and deeper gifts that the original beings received [...] practical, usable, powerful magic is drawn from the six primal sources, right? But there is this idea that there's this earlier, less differentiated power kind of magic that's deeper and more - I don't kind of want to say what all of them are. It's not that important now, it has more to do with the history of beings and their interactions with each other. But Aaravos cares about some of this stuff. The best I can say is that one of them's Power — but well, what does that mean?

The six primal sources — potentially just five (hence why only 5 gemstones seem to occur naturally in nature, and Star seemingly doesn't) — are all based around physical, somewhat tangible principles. Earth, Ocean, Sun (fire/light), Sky (wind/weather) are perhaps the most tangible, with only Moon dipping into something into something more metaphysical: illusions and questioning the nature of reality, the nature of death, etc. However, I'd argue that the Moon arcanum's emphasis on death still makes it something that is particularly important to creatures who are mortal (but more on that later).

What I am arguing for is then, therefore, that Deep Magic is magic drawn from Concepts and Ideas > tangible things found in nature or parts of other magical creatures.

Three concepts, to be exact: (translated dark magic screenshot from Cartoon Universe spells reversed).

Zubeia: He chose as his instruments those who had strong hearts and strong minds, but who had an insatiable thirst and fascination with magic (power).

Three quasar diamonds, three deep magic concepts. Heart, Mind, Power.

("To know something truly and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. Mind, body, and spirit." / "She laid before me her scales, her blindfold, and her sword, and told me to choose.")

Now, I don't know if it's these three concepts exactly — I could Truth, or Justice, or something like that — or even if it's three. But given what little we know about Deep magic thus far and how much the series' likes its threes, I think that's the likeliest number and combination.

We've known for a while that there's something weird with the connection between dark magic, spells that use blood, and 'star' magic. We know it's unlikely that Aaravos being able to possess people who have used dark magic was just a happy accident discovered after humans started using it. We know that when Callum is offered the dark magic version of the cube in his dreams, the symbol is blood red: "You can have unlimited power." And that dark magic "became the key that unlocked a place of power for humans in Xadia" (Tales of Xadia).

So what if dark magic stems from the vein of Deep magic that's taken from the concept of Power? What if when Aaravos offered his pawns "unlimited" Power, or when Kpp'Ar accused Viren of (potentially using star magic) "making the same choice you always made: the one that gives you Power," they meant it?

Alternatively, this could mean that most other Startouch elves — their longevity, their indifference — comes from the vein of Mind and subsequent intellectual detachment? Enough intelligence and reason not to hunger for more (Power), but not enough compassion and empathy to sympathize with others (Heart).

And it would also tie into Leola being unique among her own kind for her heart taking pity on the humans, and giving them primal magic — perhaps in the vein of Heart, if we're keeping things consistent — and why love ("To know something truly and deeply [...] I love you with all of myself, and I always will" / "To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep") has been consistently tied to Callum unlocking arcanums. The "Narrative of Strength (power)" vs "Narrative of Love" being even more literal than we thought.

This wouldn't be too out of line since Moon arcanum philosophy already borrows heavily from Plato's idea of the forms/reality (Plato's allegory of the cave, anyone?) and the forms basically mean "your imagined ideal of the object in your mind is going to be more perfect than any tangible, 'real' version of the object could ever be." That being applied to living beings who are literally in the sky would track a certain amount, in addition to the idea that however primal magic is set up in Xadia right is "the whole world is like a giant primal stone; sky magic is all around us, and it's also in me, with every breath we take." But I digress.

With the distinction of Deep Magic as 1) separate and a sea that flows into the primal as well as 2) older and earlier than primal magic, now onto the next theory:

Theory #2: First elves and the Archdragons?

Now admittedly this one is more speculative since beyond knowing 1) the First elves = what we'd call Startouch elves, 2) the rest of them except Aaravos 'left' Xadia a while ago, and 3) the aforementioned possible 'Mind' deep magic thing, we very quickly run out of set knowledge into full blown speculation. Beyond

With that in mind, I wanna talk about the... weirdness, I suppose, between the Archdragons / draconic royal family and the First Elves.

There's a few notes to this: we know that Ancient Draconic is the language of primal magic, indicating that dragons existed and presumably had primal magic before elves did, and that elves had to be given that linguistic knowledge at least to a certain degree.

Then we also have the way Zubeia is referred to being mirrored with the way she describes Aaravos later:

Likewise, the one person/creature we've seen referred to as a god outside the Epic of the Void poem is Avizandum by Harrow (bonus points for the game motif of "entire armies have fallen like toys" because of him):

Bloodmoon Huntress also asserts that from an elven point of view (or at least Lain and Tiadrin, and presumably Runaan, too) that "Dragons are the lifeblood, the very core of Xadia" and generally assumed that dragons have the most powerful connection to their individual primal sources.

So I'd be willing to wager (esp since Sol Regem is at least 1,2000+ years old) that Archdragons at least once upon a time had been contemporaries of the First Elves if not peers. What and why that connection exists and how relevant it is for today, I don't know, but I do think there's something there, especially since the one example we have of a First Elf-Dragon relationship in Aaravos, Avizandum, and Zubeia, was perceived to be positive somewhat on all sides — a matter of trust on his end (in order to be "betrayed") and a matter of reverence and importance on theirs; "admired and loved by all" / "you meant something to him".

There is also something to be said for the Archdragons being the most powerful embodiment of the primal sources (alongside maybe some rare and noteworthy elves, like Queen Aditi) still being "unable to risk a direct confrontation" with only one singular and Fallen Startouch elf. What would a whole slew of them at the height of their power look like? (And yet it is implied that the Nova Blade is "ivory draconic" so... maybe you just have to get a First Elf close enough to the mouth to be consumed / bitten? Or perhaps the Nova Blade is made from the tooth/claw of a 'Star' arcanum dragon.)

TLDR; it's looking more and more like Startouch elves as we understand them and First Elves in generally are — while emotive and feeling the way humans and elves are — something very different from anything else we've seen thus far in terms of knowledge and power skill, and that distinction is only going to be made more and more apparent as the story goes on.

Theory #3: Where do we go from here?

So if Deep Magic is distinct from Primal, and is distinct from 2/3 kinds of Deep Magic in dark magic (derived from 5-primal and Power deep magic thoughts)... where do we go from here, magically speaking?

Well, the important thing to note is that the story has given us some thematic clues. Aaravos is concerned with exile and power, both things we see thematically most represented by human characters (with some elven exceptions like Karim and Kim'Dael). The other Star touch elves are very on brand for "Xadian exile" as their favourite punishment as well as extreme isolationism ("I knew I had to be strong alone" etc). Therefore, whatever answer we give Magically also has to reconcile these issues from a thematic and character based standpoint.

It seems like a switch of where people are concentrating energy — for Startouch elves and humans — needs to have a drastic shift to one of the other veins/concepts of deep magic that will hopefully heal the rifts. If Aaravos is Power (humans) and the others are 'Mind' (Xadian indifference/isolation and banishment) for lack of a better idea, then subverting that binary and shifting more to a third 'Love' path seems to be very on brand for TDP. Holding both at the same time but being guided by a higher principle of peace and harm reduction is what Ezran's 4x03 speech is all about, after all.

Something something both Xadia and magic and the First Elves being reunited with Xadia / humanity and elvenkind as TDP's endgame, something something.

Other Gift Giving Thoughts

The other thing I wanna talk about now that everything else is laid out is how gifts are Given, in TDP. We see time and time again relationships and magic systems being framed on the idea of whether they are giving, taking, both in a bad way or in a good way. There seems to be two main indicators for gift giving, therefore, either that in the receiver is worthy, or that the exchange is going to be reciprocal.

At its best, a gift works as intended.

Humans (and elves?) are given primal magic and generally use it for exploration and to care for themselves / one another The sun seed is given to the Sunfire elves, but they must nurture it. Callum gives Rayla her father's bow and she uses it to protect them. Callum achieves enlightenment and understanding of him and is rewarded with primal magic twice, even if the Ocean in particular is a bit murkier than he'd probably like. Gifts and belongings are relinquished or restored for freedom, for hope, for peace.

Here we have to wonder if Leola's Last Wish reconciles both the Goodbye gift motif and the gift of Magic motif, possibly resulting in the gift of the sun seed or more likely something to do with primal magic / alleviate the fallout of dark magic's consequences.

For example, to get an answer from Rex Igneous — a seeming wealth of knowledge — you have to give him a worthy gift that is also a sacrifice of some kind, according to Nath'an.

However, Ezran points out the major flaw in this line of thinking, as "We offered gifts that meant a lot to us, but the truth is, they don't mean anything to you." Not everyone is going to value the same thing or think the same thing is worth the price that was paid.

We see this interpersonally most with the mage fam ("Maybe the world would be better off without magic" from Soren, whose life was saved with it) and with Rayla and Callum (as Rayla's gift of sacrifice by leaving is something Callum did not want and rightfully did not receive well, alongside her moonstone pendant). Again: what is defined as worthy, or worthiness, is in the eye of the beholder.

Just like one of the initial thoughts that inspired this meta, Khessa asserts that dark magic is a magic that "takes" > being reciprocal for both parties, nevermind a gift. The irony, however, runs a bit deeper, as Aaravos thinks the same of his fellow stars:

But the stars kept from them one secret still: that their first lesson—patience—was not a gift of the stars at all. You see, patience is a lesson the humans taught themselves. No, the stars do not know patience, for they have no need for it. The stars want for nothing, and take all to their liking.

And we see this idea of a 'false gift' show up time and time again in the series. Nyx pretends to offer passage but actually wants to steal Zym; Rayla's act of love in leaving is a curse upon Callum's heart and wellbeing; dark magic itself is a false trade of sorts, given how unevenly it tips scales in Aaravos' favour and how much it ruins both the environment and body of its caster.

[The elven thief Lasair] never saw the precious blossoms fade and turn to cold ashes when exposed to the dawn. They never learned their gift was perceived as a curse, not a trade. 

—Tales of Xadia

Kim'Dael goes to Queen Aditi under false pretences ("The Queen's Mercy") but the gift that Aditi gives her is nothing good at all:

What pretty bauble, she wondered, had she tricked the queen into forging as a token of protection? What could be powerful enough to ward away the wrath of dragons?

Just as humans sought the stars' help to protect them from the ire of the dragons, Kim'Dael sought Aditi's. And just as Aaravos offered them a false magic that would protect and ultimately trap/destroy then, so does Aditi, with magic that doesn't seem to be entirely dark or primal:

“But know this: the binding around your neck—it is made with magic not unlike your own. It is a magic that demands, that takes."

A form of magic even maybe that demands sacrifice for that kind of Power.

You could almost say it's something Deeper.

Conclusion

Hope you enjoyed going completely off the rails with me, and that this long (winded) post got you thinking! I'll probably do a followup discussing the implications of what we have here for potential Laurelion-Aaravos later. In the meantime, take the fruits of my labour, and spin your own hamster wheels if you'd like.

[nkn0va]

Persona request: Mitsuru, Yukiko, and Makoto get caught making out with thier M!S/O please.

I have nothing clever to say here. Uhh...sorry about the inactivity? I finally bought Gigantic and was re-living my middle school years of playing the shit out of it so that's been distracting me.

-Getting Mitsuru to open up to intimacy is quite the undertaking, to say the least. Out of everyone here she's the hardest to crack due to a previous relationship that wasn't exactly ideal to say the least.

-Frankly she probably doesn't even get completely comfortable with the idea of 'making out' until after the events of P3. Luckily she does manage to grow in your relationship and get much more confident.

-A particularly long, draining day of running the Shadow Operatives has Mitsuru exhausted and she looks forward to nothing more than having some alone time with you to recharge.

-She never once thought of intimacy with her old fiance (I can't add accents on Tumblr, ffs), so she's completely inexperienced despite being the one who's not in their first relationship here.

-After so long of her being averse to intimacy you're more than happy to attempt it. However just as you two are inches apart there's a knock on the door.

-It's...Akihiko, coming to give his reports for the day. Thankfully he's pretty romantically clueless so it's easy enough to trick him that you two weren't doing anything important. Though that also lead him to interrupting you two.

-Oh well, there's always next time.

-Yukiko might not look it, but she as a bit of a rebellious streak hidden deep inside her, and that tends to come out the most when it comes to dating.

-It's nothing too crazy of course, but she can't help but feel that sense of adventure, of exploring what it truly means to be in love with someone else.

-Of course if anyone else were to find out she'd probably drop dead on the spot but it's something you'll need to accept as part of her if you wanna keep this relationship going.

-That being said, eventually the time we'll come when she wants to try making out, namely when the Investigation Team takes a visit to the Amagi Inn. When everyone's about to wind down for the night and go to sleep she drags you off somewhere private.

-It's about to start getting really steamy when you suddenly hear footsteps behind you and both your hearts simultaneously stop. It's Yu. He was looking for Yukiko to ask where the bathrooms were, certainly not expecting to find you two getting frisky.

-At least he acts cool about it. He's perfectly capable of ignoring what just happened and acting like he didn't interrupt anything important, and truthfully, you'd both rather it be him than anyone else. Only God knows if it was Teddie what that stupid bear would do...

-Out of all the ladies so far, Makoto is by far the most romantically inept, and that's definitely saying something. She never even thought about dating until you came along because of how much importance she placed on studies due to her sister and father.

-It's only when she hears about the process of making out (how she does is up to you), does she want to try it, but there's no way in hell she has the confidence to do so.

-Chances are, you're going to have to lead the relationship into being more physically affectionate if you want it to get to that point at all. This is going to be much to her embarrassment, though.

-Makoto definitely won't turn you down though, she wants to keep you happy while dating her, and it's an opportunity to for her to grow in your relationship together.

-She doesn't have the guts to do it anywhere that isn't her house where she knows you two will be alone. She'll still be super nervous but with your reassurance she'll slowly but surely ease into it.

-That is until there's a knock at the door. Sae appears to have come home much earlier than usual, causing you both to stiffen up immediately and scoot away from each other and do your best to act natural.

-Thankfully for the both of you Sae is just as romantically incompetent as her sister so it's easy to fool her, although she will be suspicious and probably keep a closer eye on you two from now on.

[wingedblooms]

Secret, slumbering land

This meta is a continuation of theories (forbidden secrets, blooming dreams, bright as the dawn, and heart of the night court) about Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land. This new thread focuses on the gentle healing land and lake that the sisters visit in their stories. Maasverse spoilers below, so please proceed with caution.

It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. (acosf)

Both Feyre and Nesta visit a turquoise lake nestled in the mountains. Because their description is the same, this theory operates on the assumption that it is the same place. And since things come in threes in this series, Elain may visit this magical lake in her own story. When I reread the scenes with previous visits, I was struck by the language Sarah used to describe it—secret, slumbering, forgotten—and the clues those words might hold for Elain and Wyrd, the Stone Mother.

Secret

During the first visit to this lake, Azriel teaches Feyre to fly and shares their court philosophy on training, which is connected to a legend about Nephelle (more on that later). During this scene, Azriel is bathed in blinding sunlight and his shadows are gone. His appearance is stark and clear, readable.

In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More human than I had ever seen him. “There’s no chance that I’ll be able to fly in the legions, is there?” I asked, kneeling beside him as he tended to my skinned palms with expert care and gentleness. The sun was brutal against his scars, hiding not one twisted, rippling splotch. (acowar)

@offtorivendell connected his appearance to the bonus chapter ages ago, and it is still one of my favorite metas. In that bonus chapter, we learn Azriel’s shadows are also prone to vanish around Elain.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.  The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible.  A thing of secret, lovely beauty. (Azriel’s bonus) 

He tells us he doesn't need to rely on his shadows to read her, so his deep trust and vulnerability might be the only explanation for his shadows' behavior, but they can also sense power and respond to it as power themselves. For example, if someone's power is related to music, they might sing or dance in response. What power, other than the revealing light of Truth, might cause them to vanish?

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.  The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus) 

The Faelight reveals Elain's secret, lovely beauty: she glows like the sun at dawn. What do we know about dawn? In nature, dawn restores the light and awakens the earth. In the Maasverse, it is also associated with healing magic. And when we return to the lake in Nesta’s story, we learn it was once connected to healing. Healing light is bright and warm like the dawn; it has the power to pierce the darkness and outrace Death itself. It is pure life in its rawest form.

Sarah has repeatedly connected Elain to rebirth and renewal, especially in relation to Azriel: in his presence, she's the lovely fawn, vibrant spring behind her. Standing before Death. Even the headache tonic, a lighthearted remedy, serves as potential hint for this secret, lovely beauty: 

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.  I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said.  Elain smiled again, ducking her head.  Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (acofas) 

Elain’s gift awakens life, veins of emerald, in the earthy brown and gray within his soul, just as she does in her own garden. It is no coincidence that Elain, who is most radiant in healing hues, glows like the sun at dawn in the dead of night. And Azriel is stark and clear before her just as he is about to finally allow himself a taste of pure life, of healing. In the wake of Elain’s healing presence, we even glimpse Azriel’s emotional scars through his internal dialogue. On healing journeys, lingering scars are faced and overcome rather than avoided. Some wounds require deep trust as the healer, patient as a gardener, walks the road with them on that journey. 

Slumbering

On our second visit to the lake, we learn the surrounding land is inhabited by ordinary faeries who prefer solitude. This immediately made me think about Elain, content and beautiful in her simple gardening dress, and Feyre’s comment about her clinging to Azriel for some peace and quiet. It would be fitting for them to come here in their story, to find joy and love and healing here together. And if I were to hand select a place for Rosehall, where someone like Azriel's mother could find solitude and healing, this would be it.

He knew these mountains well enough from flying over them for centuries: shepherds lived here, usually ordinary faeries who preferred the solitude of the towering green and brownish-black stones to more populated areas. The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain. Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. That people injured in body and spirit had ventured to these hills, the lake they were now two and a half days from reaching, to recover. Perhaps that was why he’d come. Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here. 

-

She’d never seen such a view. It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. […] The mountains watched her, the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake. (acosf)

The mountains here aren't brutal and sharp, but they still have a powerful presence. Like the third sister. The mountains watched Nesta like a protective seer, and the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake, like Elain’s scent. Her scent is a sparkling river, a promise of spring, that guided Nesta to her. And what did Nesta find when she reached the source of that scent? Elain’s sharp angles, once like the Illyrian mountains after she was Made, were now replaced with softness. She glowed with health and her smile was bright as the sun. She also smells of jasmine and honey, which are soothing scents and herbs that have healing properties. 

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. […] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf) 

In the span of a few pages, we're also told twice that this land is slumbering. Since it was once used for healing, it would make sense for healing magic to be at the core of its slumbering heart. Remember, the rawest form of healing magic is pure life and we just learned that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, was once blossoming with pure life. Elain’s wyrdcrown seems to mirror Stone Mother's creative powers in the form of sleeping buds:

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

This imagery of Elain’s power has always reminded me of the darkness of creation and rest Yrene receives guidance from while she bathes in Silba’s Womb, which she calls the slumbering heart of the earth. In the tog series, Silba was the goddess of healing and gentle deaths and Elain shares many connections with the healers who honor her. So, it’s possible slumbering simply means the land reflects the restful and restorative healing power of those who once lived on and fed the magic of the land. 

Slumbering or sleeping can also indicate dormant magic, which is something we’ve seen in both tog and cc. In tog, Dorian has raw magic and he can shape it into different things—phantom hands, shifting, healing, etc. His raw magic is sleeping in his heart before he explores it. 

“You have power in you, Prince. More power than you realize.” She touched his chest, tracing a symbol there, too, and some of the court ladies gasped. But Nehemia’s eyes were locked on his. “It sleeps,” she whispered, tapping his heart. “In here. When the time comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid.” She removed her hand and gave him a sad smile. “When it is time, I will help you.” With that, she walked away, the courtiers parting, then swallowing up her wake. He stared after the princess, wondering what her last words had meant. And why, when she said them, something ancient and slumbering deep inside him had opened an eye. (com)

We recently learned the Asteri poisoned the waters in Midgard with a parasite to feed off of the magic of its citizens. This parasite warped their magic and it is described as dormant and tethered as a result:

The Asteri had infected the water we consumed with a parasite. They’d poisoned the lakes and streams and oceans. The parasites burrowed their way into our bodies, warping our magic. (hofas) - Somehow, a barrier had been removed. One that had ordered him to stand down, to obey … It was nothing but ashes now. Only dominance remained. Untethered. But filling the void of that barrier with a rising, raging force— (Ithan’s magic, hofas) - Tharion withdrew. Lidia shook with rage and power. Tharion could feel it shuddering around him, rising up like a behemoth from the deep. What had that antidote woken in her? What had been taken during the Drop? And what had lain dormant, all this time? His water seemed to quail at it—like it knew something he didn’t. (Lidia’s magic, hofas) - Warm, bright magic answered. Healing magic, rising to the surface as if it had been dormant in his blood. He had no idea how to use it, how to do anything other than will it with a simple Save him. […] He willed that lovely, bright power to keep healing Ketos, though. (Ruhn’s magic, hofas)

Similarly, the Asteri pooled and imbued their magic in Wyrd to warp her purely creative magic. 

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas) - Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” (hofas)

Is it possible Elain’s sleeping buds, as a mirror of Wyrd’s original magic, represent what remains dormant, tethered?

“Or maybe it’s dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.” A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

In the scene above, Cassian and Rhysand are discussing Nesta’s powers. We learn that they aren’t dormant, which makes sense; they seem to represent the magic that the Asteri imbued into Wyrd to become a tool of death and destruction. That magic might be feeding off of Wyrd’s creative powers like a parasite and keep her half-awake, like the Fae in Midgard and, perhaps, the healing land: 

It was all so still, yet watchful, somehow. As if she were surrounded by something ancient and half-awake. As if each peak had its own moods and preferences, like whether the clouds clung to or avoided them, or trees lined their sides or left them bare. Their shapes were so odd and long that they looked as if behemoths had once lain down beside the rivers, pulled a rumpled blanket over themselves, and fallen asleep forever. (acosf)

Ancient, half-awake, behemoth. These terms are also used to describe Wyrd. The word behemoth in particular is associated with a primordial chaos monster in mythology and may be yet another potential hint that Chaos is Hel’s name for Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

-

As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. […] “The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. (hofas)

-

But the Cauldron. As if some great sleeping beast opened an eye. The Cauldron seemed to sense us watching. Sense us there. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I believe Wyrd saw Elain as a kindred spirit and gifted her the language of creation with the hope that she could be the key to her freedom, her healing in body and spirit. Those original creative powers could include a deep connection with the earth (earth magic), divine sense (seer abilities), fluid form and movement (travel and shifting), and healing, pure life and world-building power. Elain might already be testing the boundaries of that creative magic, learning to shape it into different things (explaining her mysterious appearances).

Elain may also need to bring her sisters together to help Wyrd. They represent the three faces of the Mother together and have been marked by her from the beginning of the series. When Feyre physically healed the Cauldron with the help of Rhysand, she cupped her hands and became the first face of the Mother. Nesta became the second face of the Mother when she healed Feyre and Nyx with the Trove. And the healing lake appears to hint at Elain's role, the third face of the Mother:

Nesta cleared the hill that Cassian had mounted ahead, and a sparkling, turquoise lake spread before them. It lay slightly sunken between two peaks, as if a pair of green hands had been cupped to hold the water within them. Gray stones lined its shore. (acosf)

This is our first earthen depiction of the Stone Mother. Someone with green fingers or a green thumb is skilled at gardening. Gardeners provide gentle order to pure, blossoming life with their green hands. And we already know, thanks to Rhys and Feyre, that Elain won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty—stained green, even—for a pretty result. 

When Elain's creative magic rises in her story, will it flow like a sparkling river, unfurl like a bloom, to awaken the soul of the earth? Could it soothe Azriel’s icy rage and bring true spring and healing to Ramiel, softening its sharp angles when its heart, Wyrd, is finally restored? Only time will tell.

Forgotten

The land is also described as a place time had forgotten and, as I mentioned earlier, it's where Azriel shared the story of Nephelle—the one who had been passed over, who had been forgotten—while he tended to Feyre's wounds after a fall during flying practice.

Nephelle, who had been passed over, who had been forgotten…She outraced death itself. […] And yet her too-small wingspan, that deformed wing…they did not fail her. Not once. Not for one wing beat. (acowar)

Nephelle wanted to be a warrior, but was turned away due to her small wingspan. So, she made herself indispensable as a cartographer and excelled at finding the most geographically advantageous positions for their armies. And now that hofas has been released, we know earth magic can be used to locate the best geographical locations:

…those with earth magic were sent ahead to scout lands [...] Not only the best geographical locations, but magical ones, too. They could sense the ley lines—the channels of energy running throughout the land, throughout Midgard. They told the Asteri to build their cities where several of the lines met, at natural crossroads of power, and picked those places for the Fae to settle, too. But they selected Avallen just for the Fae. To be their personal, eternal stronghold.” (hofas)

Those with earth magic are deeply connected to the land and their creative power flows freely in places where the natural magic in the land is untethered. Is it possible Nephelle excelled at finding the best locations because she possessed earth magic? And could that come into play in the next story if Elain possesses earth magic as part of her creative powers?

Despite being perceived as weak, Nephelle outraced death itself with her small wingspan to save Miryam. Her miraculous rescue inspired the Night Court's philosophy toward training: 

I raised a brow. Azriel shrugged. “We—Rhys, Cass, and I—will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.”  “The Nephelle Philosophy.” (acowar) 

We saw this philosophy in action at the final battle with Hybern when Elain raced against death itself and appeared out of nowhere with Truth-Teller to protect her family. Like Nephelle, she was and still is passed over, forgotten.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. (Nesta's memory of Mama Archeron, acosf)

-

"Go back to Feyre and your little garden." (Nesta to Elain, acosf)

-

Elain said, "Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today." "Absolutely not," Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. "Absolutely not." "Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." "Then go off on adventures," Nesta said. "Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron." (Elain and Nesta's exchange, acosf)

-

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her. (Cassian's observation, acosf)

These quotes hit differently with the release of hofas. @offtorivendell and @willowmeres seem to be on track with their theories that the warped magic of Hewn City affected Elain's creative magic. What if she reflects the magic of the land around her, and when that magic is warped or tethered, her physical appearance mirrors it? Is this another sign she will be able to use the language of creation to unearth Prythian’s secrets, forgotten by time? And maybe, like the legendary Nephelle, the things that Elain is viewed as weak for—her little garden, a symbol of her care for and connection to the land, and her appearance, a reflection of what was forgotten—actually become her family's biggest strength.

[katy-133]

Why Spy and Sniper are opposites (and why they understand each other)

(A Team Fortress 2 meta.)

I had this in my drafts half-written for a while and then felt motivated enough to finish it up after seeing @gobbogoo's excellent meta about the professionalism aspect of Sniper and Spy's relationship.

I love foil characters. In my mind, what can make a foil compelling is when the two characters are opposites in many ways, they are also, at their cores, the same in the ways that really matter. When you get right down to it.

Mechanics (Or Far vs Close)

Sniper and Spy were literally made for each other.

In-game, Sniper and Spy are designed to counter each other. The Sniper vs Spy Update introduced multiple weapons for both Sniper and Spy that were designed to undo specifically the Spy and Sniper classes. They were introduced day-by-day in a comical, "Your new toy may counter mine, but now my new toy counters that!" fashion. Sniper's Razorback shield prevents Spy backstabbing him. Spy's Ambassador allows Spy to kill Snipers wearing a Razorback, and so on.

When you play as Sniper or Spy, different gameplay styles emerge from their different strengths and weaknesses. Sniper works well at a distance, behind the rest of his team, because his primary weapons are long range. Spy works well close up because of his ability to instantly kill with backstabs. And Spy's disguises can be more convincing if he's where the enemy team is, so he works well when he's ahead of the rest of his team.

Dirty vs Clean

Sniper roughs it with his (Cosy Camper) backpack and his camper van. Spy wears Louis Vuitton suits (or rather, "Louis Crabbemarché"--TF2 universe's counterpart), as mentioned in The Naked and the Dead comic:

Sniper urinates in mason jars and throws them as a weapon (Jarate). Spy has a special knife (Your Eternal Reward) that kills so cleanly, it instantly removes the body. Spy calls Sniper "filthy" as an insult in-game. It's something to cast scorn over, to Spy.

Spy: "You disgust me, filthy jar man!"

Alone vs Together

Sniper loves his job as a sniper for RED (and BLU). His job makes him stronger when he's at a distance from his team. Therefore, while he's not totally isolated from people, he doesn't mind being alone. He works well like that when he's working.

Sniper: "I love this job. Sunshine's free, bullets are cheap, and everybody's got a head."

Spy's Rally, an alternate Meet the Spy audio recording (as I wrote before), illustrates how Spy values teamwork and believes that it goes against the natural order of life.

Spy: "Disorder, the natural state of nature, is cheap to create, costly to overcome. [...] Nature abhors a team, gentlemen. And together, we bold few, we unnatural brothers, are going to seize Mother Nature by the throat."

Sniper finds strength in being alone. Spy finds strength in being together.

Out of vs In the Spotlight

When there was a irl figurine of Sniper being sold, Valve's blog released a post written by Sniper ("Well, Now I'm a Statue", 11 December 2012). He explains that he hates that his happened, as it goes against his wantiness to stay out of the spotlight.

Sniper: "It probably wouldn't surprise you to learn that a professional assassin like myself tends to be… discrete about things. We keep to the shadows. We avoid the spotlight. We don't host bloody dinner parties, is my point, and we don't make big bloody statues in effigy to our bloody selves."

Despite being an operative who has the ability to literally turn invisible, Spy has a flair for theatrics. He likes spectacle. In Expiration Date, when Scout apologises to Spy, Spy wants him to repeat "You're better than me," line over the PA system so that all the other mercs hear it.

Inexperienced vs Experienced in Romance

Sniper is never shown to have experienced romance and it's possible he never did. Sniper, despite his character being inspired by Crocodile Dundee, an adventure romance comedy, doesn't have a love interest. Sniper's "kangaroo wife" line is a made-up insult by Soldier.

Soldier: "I will send my condolences to your kangaroo wife."

In Meet the Sniper, we see him call his parents when he gets access to a payphone. His parents whom he sends postcards to (we see this postcard in the Sniper vs. Spy update). And it's his parents that the Administrator threatens the safety of to keep Sniper in line. It's his parents that are Sniper's priority of keeping protected. Not a girlfriend.

As essayist Kayla explains in a video meta about the mercs' past relationships, Sniper grew up in Australia, where (in the TF2 universe) the country's culture and people value large muscles due to Australium metal exposure giving Australians super-strength, as explained in the Catch-Up comic:

Security locks are punch-based (as Saxton Hale demonstrates to Miss Pauling in The Contract comic). Kids are expected to get into fist fights with each other. Meaning that Sniper is "not attractive by conventional Australian standards" in the TF2 universe (again, observation by Kayla in the video meta).

Spy on the other hand, is characterised by his past relationship with Scout's mother and it's one of the few things we know about Spy's past. Spy has an in-game line about liking his romances "in groups of six." When Scout needs advice on asking Miss Pauling out on a date, he goes to Spy for help (keep in mind, Scout doesn't know Spy is his father at this point). He has a reputation among his team that he is experienced in romantic relationships.

Spy: "I like my teams like I like my romances: in groups of six."

Where Sniper and Spy are Similar

Being Discreet and Valuing Secrets

In the TF2 comic The Naked and the Dead, we find out that Sniper knows that Scout is Spy's son. By this point, Scout doesn't know (or is heavily in denial about it). We know Sniper knows because when Sniper and Spy come across Scout dying in a hallway, Sniper leaves Spy to have a private moment with Scout, when Spy tells Scout that he's his father (or rather, Tom Jones is his father, because Spy can't bring himself to tell the whole truth).

Sniper is discreet in leaving them alone, because he never explicitly says that he knows (or what he knows) in that scene. It's mainly left unspoken. He only says one word, and Spy knows what's he's going to say. And Sniper chooses to leave because he knows that this secret is important to Spy and Scout.

Spy ability to be discreet and valuing secrets inherently comes with his job. His disguises only work as much as his ability to act like the person he's pretending to be. Spy also values the secret of his identity so much that we don't ever see him without his mask. The SFM model of Spy mask less (where we see he has hair) is a fan-made model that the fandom has collectively accepted. It has not been shown in any official Valve works. In Meet the Spy, he's always wearing his mask in the various Top Secret photos. There's also a Miss Pauling contract line for Spy in-game where she tells him that he should wash his mask. He canonically doesn't take it off.

Miss Pauling: "Spy, just between you and me, you should really wash that ski mask. Like once. There's visible stink lines coming off that thing. Anyway, I need a favor."

Kinda ironic, since Spy values cleanliness.

Are Both Willing to Put Themselves in Danger to Save One Another

Despite their differences, when they're on the same team (or even when they're still on opposite teams but have come together against a greater enemy, like in Mann vs Machine), Sniper and Spy can work together to save each other.

In the comics (The Naked and the Dead), Spy gets shot in the leg and is about to be killed by Classic Sniper (from the first Team Fortress game) while trying to infiltrate a building to save his team, but is saved by Sniper.

To do this, Sniper had to run up several flights of stairs, break down a door, crash through a window, scale the side of a building, and then climb silently into the room Spy was in. While naked and bleeding. Sniper was willing to put himself at great personal risk to save Spy.

They Both Experienced Loneliness Just Before Joining RED/BLU

I imagine that, one day, Sniper and Spy will figure out that they are not so different. If they knew about each other's pasts, they would notice a certain similarity.

Sniper's backstory (his description on TF2's website) is that he was a "tracker of dangerous game" in Australia. He would have spent a long time on his own, in the wilderness, isolated from people. He lived on a farm with his parents, not in the cities. In the comics (Blood in the Water), Sniper explains that he grew up with kids who wanted to fist fight, while he would climb up trees out of their reach and throw stones at them. He didn't fit in.

He calls his parents in Meet the Sniper, but they don't like the line of work he's in. Which upsets him, because he wants their approval.

Spy's backstory is that he had a love, Scout's mother, and ran away from her. We don't know the details of why. But we do know that he and her are still on good terms. Spy and her are seen together in Valve's promo animation for the Second Annual Saxxy Awards:

Spy appears to still love her, as at the end of Meet the Spy, he takes one of the photos of them together. Notably, the most chaste photo of the pile--it's of the two of them holding hands, walking away together.

I think that's insight on what he would have wanted in another timeline. But he ran away on his own, leaving a woman he loved (and still loves) as well as his baby son. He left his family.

This is what their lives were like before the Gravel War.

It's also worth noting that they both joined RED/BLU. They all chose a line of work that many would not, and this gives us insight into their character. Whether it was for the money, or for the chance to fight, or to combat loneliness, both Sniper and Spy found themselves working for RED/BLU.

In Conclusion

Sniper and Spy are opposites in many ways, but when you get right down to it, their cores are the same.

[whateverisbeautiful]

Regarding one of the post about what Michonne knew about Jessie. I really don't think she knew anything. I never got the impression she did. I do think she was disappointed that Rick didn't tell her about the Jesse and Pete situation and was hiding the guns. I think the only people that knew were Carol and maybe Carl. Michonne was kept away from that situation and I'm glad she was. I don't like the thought of her being even a little bit upset over that mess.

Yeah I'm forever glad that Michonne was kept apart from that messy situation and storyline. I don't think she knew about it all either. Thinking about it recently, I more just started to wonder if once Rick got in that public fight with Pete, was Michonne able to sense that there might be additional motives behind Rick's involvement in that situation. Definitely the core disappointment and hurt Michonne felt stemmed from Rick hiding all that stuff he was up to from her tho. I also always tend to forget that the Jessie stuff continues in 6A, and I don't get the impression that Michonne knew about Rick and Jessie's interactions during that time. I think it was intentional to have very few characters aware of whatever was going on between Rick and Jessie because the way they operated in the shadows showed that it wasn't healthy, substantial, or a serious pursuit.

[quietsun5268]

Which Backstory/Factions suits Qunari!Rook?

Everyone has reasons why they pick a certain race for their Warden/Inquisitor/Rook. For me, I want to give each race their chance to shine like Dwarf!Warden (Qunari is not optional for Warden), Hawke is human as there are no additional race option, Elf!Inquisitor (to me the story suits the Elf!Inquisitor), and now Qunari!Rook.

One of the flaws in Dragon Age: Veilguard is that factions determine your characters surname, not your character's race so they tend to be human-sounding or in a couple of cases elf-sounding. But there are a few backstories that justify the surnames or suits Qunari!Rook.

-Antivan Crows

"When the invaders of Treviso took people captive, Rook was determined to free the prisoners at any cost. A talented new Crow recently promoted to full membership, Rook chafed at the cautions of her/his/their commanders, especially with her/his/their city occupied by brutal soldiers known as the Antaam. When Rook saw a patrol herding along captives one night, s/he(/they) leaped into action. Despite saving lives, however, Rook had unknowingly compromised a larger Crow operation against the Antaam. Rook's superiors were incensed. Sidelined for her/his/their actions, the young assassin searched for new ways to prove herself/himself/themself."

Last Name: De Riva

Antivan Crows often buy orphaned or enslaved children, they become full member by surviving every test the Crows throw at them. Since a majority of recruits don't have a surname of their own, they take the surname of the Noble House of the Crows upon being brought into the fold. So it wouldn't be strange for Qunari!Rook to gave the surname.

One issue is that their usual recruits are human and elves. It's rare to see Qunari outside of their lands with the exception of Rivain and Seheron. Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth are much more present in non-Qunari lands. Another issue is that if we look at the history of Antiva between 6:32 and 6:42 Steel, the Principality was conquered by the invading Qunari forces. In 7:84 Storm, the Third Exalted March ended with the signing of the Llomerryn Accord, and Antiva was freed from Qunari occupation. Some settlements still get occasional attacks from Antaam. The issue would be if Qunari!Rook had to experience racism in Antiva because of the history and how rare Qunari are seen. However, I can see them recruiting a Qunari in case they need someone to infiltrate the Antaam, someone to get in and get out.

-Mourn Watch

"When restless spirits threatened the inhabitants of the Grand Necropolis, Rook took decisive action to protect both the living and the dead. Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order. During a "civil war" between undead nobility, known later as the War of the Banners, s/he(/they) led a daring attack on the rebellion's dueling leaders. It was a success, quelling the war and saving lives. But Rook's destruction of these undead nobles was controversial. Some Mourn Watchers feared Rook had offended the order's aristocratic patrons and encouraged her/him/them to travel for a while."

Last Name: Ingellvar

It would make sense for Qunari!Rook to have Ingellvar as a surname due to being found as an infant and raised by the Mourn Watchers. The question would be, where did they come from and how did a baby Qunari get in the ruins? Looking at the history of Nevarra and it capital Nevarra City (home to the Grand Necropolis), there doesn't seem to be any past conflicts with the Qunari.

-Shadow Dragon

"Rook risked everything to liberate the enslaved people of Tevinter, even knowing it would anger the ruling elite. The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. Alone, s/he(/they) sneaked the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight."

Last Name: Mercar

A foundling Qunari!Rook adopted by a military family would work, as it justifies them having a human-sounding surname. But the problem is that the Tevinter Imperium is in conflict with the Qunari due to being invaded by them in 6:30 Steel and from being only human nation not to sign the Llomerryn Accords which ended the war, refusing to surrender sovereignty over Seheron, and has engaged in conflict with the Qunari ever since. Realistically, if the Mercar family wanted to adopt Qunari!Rook would there be resistance from the elites? I'm not sure how adoption work in Thades. There also the possibility of Qunari!Rook experiencing racism in the Imperium. Would the Mercar family be scrutinized for possible traitors for adopting a Qunari? Plus how would a child Qunari get to in the streets of Minrathous (the Capital City of Tevinter Imperium) without getting killed or enslaved?

-Lords of Fortune

"When a corrupt Rivaini noble double-crossed Rook, Rook escaped a collapsing ruin, turned the tables, and destroyed a dangerous artifact. A rising Lord of Fortune, skilled at breaking into lost tombs and ruins, Rook killed a corrupt Rivaini noble to prevent an ancient evil from being given to the Venatori. Her/His/Their actions were correct and saved the lives of expedition members, but some Rivaini nobles were resentful. Because the success of the Lords' expeditions relied on Rivaini authorities looking the other way, it seemed wise for Rook to step away while tempers settled."

Last Name: Laidir

While this backstory is ambiguous, if we look at the history and settlements of Rivain, Rivain is also home to the only peaceful Qunari settlement on the continent: Kont-aar in northern Rivain. Qunari emissaries are also common sight in Rivaini settlements; however, they stay away from the nobility. So it wouldn't be odd for Qunari!Rook to be part of the faction. But does Laidir sound like a Qunari surname or no? To me it sounds a little… Elf.

The rest of the factions have a more ambiguous background and to me doesn't have anything that would make sense for Qunari!Rook.

-Veil Jumpers

"When lives were at stake, Rook defied orders to rescue people from the mystic perils of Arlathan. On an expedition to ruins in Arlathan Forest, the Veil Jumpers found ruins that contained important lost lore and deadly danger. Barely surviving the ruins' ancient magical defenses, Rook's small team recovered an invaluable map leading to a hidden area of the forest. Although the team escaped, other Veil Jumpers found themselves trapped. Rook chose to return to the ruins, saving her/his/their teammates' lives, but losing the map. S/he(/They) was lauded for her/his/their bravery, but the map's loss caused some resentment among Veil Jumper leaders."

Last Name: Aldwir

The surname sounds elf-sounding

-Grey Wardens

"When innocent lives were at stake, Rook led the charge, saving a village from a monstrous nightmare—no matter the cost to her/him/themself. During a large darkspawn incursion, Rook was ordered to hold the line with other Grey Wardens until reinforcements arrived. Rook argued that by then, villagers under attack would be dead. S/he(/They) disobeyed orders, leading the squad into the incursion and sealing the tunnel to the Deep Roads. This turned the tide, and the darkspawn were driven off, which saved the villagers. Rook's heroism was popular among the younger Wardens, but others with connections to noble families resented her/his/their independent streak. Rook chose to step away while tempers cooled."

Last Name: Thorne

The surname sounds human-sounding

Which backstory/faction do you think suits or makes sense for Qunari!Rook? Or if in the more ambiguous factions which surname is more Qunari-like?

[attollogame]

hi! i went to look for physical descriptions of the ROs but the link isn’t working. is there an alternative link?

No but I can help you here!

Pariah

Pariah is 5’5” with an athletic build to their body, mostly honed from all of the physical exertion their night job requires. Most often they wear riding gear (leather jacket, cargo pants, biker boots; basically attire appropriate for someone who rides high-speeds on a motorcycle) with a black motorcycle helmet that has red lights within it. The helmet is modified to allow Pariah to discern things at night, and also to withstand Pariah’s own powered abilities. Pariah also carries two sickles strapped at their waist. Their powered ability is shadow manipulation.

Without the helmet, they have short cut curly brown hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, and a scar on their chin. Here’s an excellent visual of them drawn by the talented @phanosis !

Vasilisa

Vasilisa stands at about 5’11” with another athletic build to her body, again honed by her career as a detective for the C.A.P.D. She usually wears a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, black jeans, timberland boots (closest I can describe them) and on occasion will have a black blazer on. Very often seen with a coffee in hand because her sleep schedule is as atrocious as anyone’s in Attollo. Her powered ability is emotion manipulation. 

Vasilisa has blonde hair she keeps tied back, pale skin, and blue eyes. She has a beauty spot under her one eye. Here’s an excellent visual of her drawn by the talented @exotic-inquiry !

Suha

Suha stands at 5’8” with a softer build. Her employment as a judge for the Crowes Court and her role in her own fashion business often keeps her quite preoccupied and on the go. Suha is a Muslim, and therefore wears a hijab. Her role in fashion means she dresses incredibly well, often preferring higher-brand clothes lines that are both comfortable and befitting of her personality. She prefers lighter colored clothes, as it contrasts the gloom of Attollo, even though her personality itself is quite serious. Suha’s powered ability is botakinesis, or plant manipulation. 

Suha wears cat-eyed glasses and has dark skin and brown eyes. Here’s a stunning drawing of her done by the talented @artsyaprilmr !

Operator

Operator stands at 5’7” and has a very lean build coming from his amazing ability to forget to eat half the time. He’s rarely seen without his black face mask and blue tech glasses, which enable him to see the ongoing of the city even when mobile. He usually wears a black turtleneck and black jeans, as well as sneakers that should really be changed in at some point. He does wear gloves as well when outside of his dwelling in the Under City. Operator’s powered ability is tech manipulation… among other things.

He has auburn curly hair and blue eyes beneath the glasses, as well as pale skin. @exotic-inquiry also did some lovely art of him (he is a little guy) !

Sysba

Because Sysba is gender selectable, their appearance does tend to change depending on which you select, although not by much. Overall, though, Sysba is a very flamboyant being that dresses in a way they feel expresses themself best. They stand at 6’ all forms, with a toned form they somehow managed to retain despite their disastrous eating habits. They prefer colours like red, black, or white for what they wear, and they prefer fabrics like satin, velvet, or silk. Sysba often wears heels for the benefit of standing an extra few inches above everyone else. They also indulge with a lot of jewellery, including necklaces, earrings, nose rings, etc. Because they are an entity, their powers extend far beyond what most do; shape shifting, manipulation, and power absorption are a few of their abilities. If they could get out of Attollo, they would be travelling quite swiftly too. 

In all forms, their hair is black, their eyes are black, and their skin is a very sickly pale color. In male form, Sysba has short cut hair, in female form it comes in the form of a bob cut, and in the non binary form it’s short cut as well. The very talented @retconomics has art of them here, @phanosis was generous enough to draw them in their more ‘natural’ form, and @redjack even kindly made a 3d model!

DW

Standing at 6’4” with a more built tone, one could say, due to his line of work (you don’t run a criminal organization without some intimidation on the side). Dreamwalker dresses very business-like in all aspects of his arrival, including in the dreams (although he did play dress up for those because it was fun for him). He prefers dark dress shirts, dress pants, and well-polished dress shoes. He wears a signet ring on his right hand. His powered ability includes dream manipulation and an ability to directly harm a sleeping individual through their dream, as seen with MC. He usually warps his features in dreams to make him indiscernible. On occasion, he wears a red scarf when not wearing a high collared shirt. 

Dreamwalker has dark brown, almost black hair with a slight curl to it. His eyes are a glowing gold with no discernible pupil unless you’re very close, in which case you will see it as a darker yellow color. He has a notable scar on his neck from a knife wound, and dark skin. The talented @bleruh drew art of him here (check out their operator as well!), as did @retconomics here and @/kill-a13 here among many others :)

[alkeneater]

E!2080 factbook (that's what i'll call it): brainwashing 😵

I wanna talk about brainwashing because it’s kinda important for my story and sometimes explains some clones’ behavior :) This topic deserves some attention :p 

In general, in my AU we have a cult atmosphere in the Shadow Tower, BUT it's not really a cult. The main goal of the Shadow Government is to grow clones into worthy leaders and soldiers, but at the same time loyal and stupid enough to make it easier to manipulate them. Various methods were used: working with corrupt psychologists, inciting hostility between clones, fake rumors, fake news on fake TV, fake books on the shelves next to the real ones, and of course the scare tactic.

Their favorite manipulation is obviously, “we're doing this for your own safety, the world outside is cruel,” and clones were sitting in the tower like princesses from fairy tales, yeah. You got me, right? Lots of manipulation. But despite the approximately equal attitude towards everyone, it still affected different clones in different ways. Perhaps some biological factors played a role, which I doubt, BUT Scudworth's influence on the clones also helped some to stay sane. I've said this a hundred times, but Scudworth LOVES his clones and he doesn't like the operation he was forced to participate in. Therefore, he did everything possible to prevent them from becoming puppets of the shadow government (he had his own methods, but I'm too lazy to describe them).

So, let's get to the point. I mentally divide all the clones into sane, deviant and ZOMBIES (or brainwashed). Sane people are those who have their own position, are less influenced by the Shadow Government, understand the danger of the situation and want to gain personal freedom. Zombies are people who are doomed to stay in the tower and be used by Shadow Figures for their personal purposes, because their perception of the world is completely turned inside out and will not be the same anymore. Between them, the deviant ones are usually clones who have some disorders due to trauma after living in the tower, but they are still aware of the whole situation and basically refuse to be someone's slaves. Now that we have a rough idea of the spectrum, I want to discuss with you which clone is where on this spectrum.

I was smart enough only to distribute the main characters (and a couple of secondary ones). Most of them are closer to sanity in the spectrum, but they tend to deviate due to psychological trauma, obviously. I want to mention Joan as an example, because although she is the “brains of the team”, she is prone to Stockholm syndrome and, as shown in the first part, sometimes remembers “home” and regrets what she did. That’s why she is not 100% sane.

But I definitely will have a team of complete zombies in the comic who will condemn the main characters for fighting, recruit other runaway clones and try to return them to the tower. Yes, there are clones who were initially against escape and were content to live in the tower, but now they survive on the streets and are extremely unhappy with the situation. But I don’t know who could it be.… But these are definitely clones from the extras, episodic or secondary! You can even suggest your own fan clones, just for fun! (Reminder: My AU is open to everyone and your fan clones can participate in the story, and they can be in any part of the spectrum!). 

That's it. I have nothing to add… ask me questions about my AU if you want, I’ll be very glad to answer! 

and read exclamation!2080 on globalcomix ofc!!! :p

[doublejango]

NPC/Character Bio for Vepar--

Since he has shown up in a few threads now, I figure he deserves to have his own bio, since he's apparently becoming a semi-permanent NPC--and may show up as a #villain, or at least a slightly sus antagonist, in many a thread.

Vepar is a member of the Ars Goetia, the "Duke of Loss." He tends to the living concept of Loss, to its energy and its artistry, but also to doing his best to see that it does not become too excessive for any one soul to take; when someone summons him, or appeals to him, because they have lost far too much, he is often as merciful as he can be. Or, at the very least, he is compassionate. He knows the depth of Loss, he witnesses its power, the unique sort of entropy and hopelessness it can inflict a soul with. He finds it beautiful, but recognizes that some beauty is inherently cruel.

His work takes him to many places, but he tends to do it from the shadows; unless he wants to meet you, most people will never have any reason to meet Vepar.

When he's not working, he is--a fucking nerd about fish. Vepar loves the oceans of any world, and will often shapeshift so that he can dive deep and enjoy them, but he especially loves the oceans of Earth.

His holdings in Hell-- Vepar has several businesses in Pentagram City. One, most recently opened, is an aquarium stocked with living Earth fish, the aquariums made as true to life as could be done, including the lighting; he hopes to offer some measure of comfort, a sense of familiarity, to the Sinners who see them. In part, because he enjoys being able to offer comfort, but in part because it so often seems to deepen a Sinner's sense of loss when they experience something they remember from life. But, really, it's just an excuse for him to indulge his love of fish.

His other public business is a BDSM club, Lacerate, located with a district run by an Overlord named Visage-- aka @visage-of-hell. He does not consider his business to be any of her business, thank you very much, but at the same time, should anyone ever threaten his Overlord, Vepar will deal with them mercilessly -- unless, of course, she handles them first. He has chosen loyalty to her, for better or for worse, despite the inherent imbalance of their power.

His club operates on a wrist-band system (the band indicates what sort of activities a member is looking for that night) and is open to Sinners and Hellborn alike. Vepar is well-aware that this is not considered appropriate for an Ars Goetia, but he doesn't care. He enjoys the entertainment of running such an establishment.

Vepar's appearance-- Vepar is reminiscent of a gyrfalcon in some ways--the shape of his head, the sharpness of his beak. His eyes are black, deep black, endlessly black, the sort of darkness that might hypnotize one into never looking up again, a depth one could drown in. But despite his falcon-like appearance, he is brightly colored.

His feathers lie close to his body and look more or less like scales; they are a vibrant, iridescent blue-green, an ever-shifting color, and every feather is laced with rich black around the edges. He does have a layer of down under them, but not much of one; if someone were to hug Vepar--although good lord, why would you want to?--they would find that he has a muscular body, but edges on the side of being too lean, as if he is always somewhat stressed or dehydrated, or just finding ways not to take quite enough care of himself. There are black feathers atop his head that could form a crest if he were ever to raise it, but he never does.

Vepar dresses like a...to quote how I described him to Yeen, "dresses like a slutty goth romantasy prince." This guy really has too much time and power on his hands, an emo job, nerdy interests, and a #extra taste in fashion. His powers include shapeshifting, inflicting grief, teleportation, healing (fantastic at this, actually, he just so rarely does it), inflicting disease, and capturing languages. He can often invade the minds of others through their grief, their Loss, especially in dreams, but he tends to perform his duties in a more passive manner... most of the time.

His actual home is not in Pentagram City, but in the mountains outside of it. Listen, his house is fucking full of aquariums, he needed more room, and the real estate there is--absurd, to say the least. Still, he has a nice little apartment in the city, for whenever he needs to stop in, several blocks away from his club.

How he might be encountered in RP-- Unless we plot something with him specifically, he probably won't show up... unless our scene needs a villain. In which case, he really doesn't have evil intentions, but he does sometimes have cruel ones (badum tish!), or at the very least, he gets bored and lacks an ethical code preventing him from causing harm to others. He can be kind and polite, but he tends to be... not. He usually talks down to people, while almost respecting them, and really, he's just--he's kind of a dick.

According to Blitz... "It's on sight with this guy! Fuck Vepar!"