#people uncomfortable. and the thing about children who grow up loathing themselves is that they rationalize any affection they recieve

[introspectivememories]

touch-starved bernard dowd is sooo canon to me

[nightowlwriting]

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

[secretkeeper13]

Name

A year ago today, after a few months of lurking on Ao3 and Tumblr and reading without an account, I posted my first fic. I don’t know what possessed me to start writing. I think I was so desperate for some sort of creative outlet in the monotony of quarantine life that when I got an idea, I wrote it down. And here I am a year later, still writing, though not as frequently as I’d like. Thank you @thedistantdusk, queen beta, for all your help. To all the funny, lovely people I’ve “met” on Discord, thanks for brightening the past year. And thank you to everyone who read and commented on my fics.  I truly appreciate you all!  

A little (belated) Harry birthday fic below the cut or on Ao3

For many years, Harry hated summer. Summer was loneliness and boredom, monotony punctuated by growls from his stomach or his aunt’s shouts. Summer was endless daylight that stretched and languished well into the night, mocking him, a prisoner in his bedroom with barred windows. Summer meant isolation, locked doors, tossing and turning alone under damp, sticky sheets.

But what he once loathed had now become his favorite season, when three weeks ago, on the terrace of their garden, under the orange glow of the evening summer sun, he’d dropped to one knee, and with shaking hands, asked Ginny to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, yet part of him still couldn’t believe it- that after everything, horcruxes and hallows, Voldemort and the Forest, she would be walking down the aisle not to a faceless stranger, but to him.  

In their bed later that evening, after a round of private celebration, the sheen of sweat still clinging to their bodies, she’d told him of her idea. A wedding at the Burrow, just family and close friends, and a surprise to all but a handful, planned under the guise of her birthday party. It would keep the press from getting wind of it, she’d said, and with the ink barely dry on Rita Skeeter’s latest “expose” (Ginny plying Harry with love potions in an effort to force him to propose), he’d thought it was a brilliant plan. And secretly, Harry thought that the limited window for Molly to fuss over wedding preparation was a bonus.

“Do you think it’s crazy?” she’d asked, as her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest. “I know it’s barely a month away.”

“No,” he said, turning his head to kiss her bare shoulder, “I’m chuffed that you can’t wait to marry me, actually.”

She grinned at him, her smile bathed in moonlight. “Afraid I’ll change my mind if we wait too long?”

“Well, love potions don’t last forever, you know. And one of these days I may slip up and forget to put it in your tea.”

“No, no- you’ve got it all wrong,” she teased, jabbing him with her finger. “I’m the one who's dosing you, remember?”

“Ah, but Rita Skeeter never gets it right, you know that,” he replied, smirking at her through the darkness.

She’d thrown her head back as she laughed, that beautiful sound echoing in the stillness, then kissed him again, and he wondered, for the thousandth time, how he’d gotten this lucky.

And now, three weeks later, on the morning of his birthday, still enjoying the glow of their secret engagement, he sat on the sofa leafing through the sports pages of the paper when Ginny’s voice rang out from upstairs.

“Harry, will you come up here for a moment?”

“Be right up,” he called back. Assuming it was something to do with the wedding, he climbed the stairs and entered their bedroom. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

Ginny stood near the foot of the bed, wearing only a Harpies jersey, her long hair swept over one shoulder, the bare skin of her other shoulder peeking out on the other side. The jersey was clearly his, as it hung on her like a dress, ending just below her bum, revealing almost all of her legs. At the sight of her, his eyes went wide and his jaw slackened instantly.

She grinned at his reaction. “Happy birthday.”

“I’ll say,” he replied, his eyes trailing down her legs, the creamy skin peppered with freckles.

She took a step closer, closing the gap between them. “I’m wearing your present,” she said, and he could tell that she was trying to sound nonchalant as she ran her hand lightly down his chest, pausing tantalizingly over the waistband of his joggers. “But I thought you’d prefer to unwrap it this way.”

“You thought right.”

He kissed her softly, his lips sliding over hers, his hands cradling her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his lips moving to graze the shell of her ear, “I’ve been needing a new one, the old one is looking a bit worn.”  

Before he could begin to move his lips down her neck, she pulled back slightly. She looked up at him, still grinning, her eyes glinting in the soft morning light. “That wasn’t why I got it for you.”

“Well, you know I’ve got a thing for you in your uniform,” he replied, leaning down for another kiss, but she put her hand lightly on his chest to stop him.

“I know- but that isn’t why either.” Her smile was so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was clearly enjoying this.

“I got it because…” She paused as she took a step back, positively beaming at him now. “You’ll be needing a jersey with my new name.”

At that, she turned so her back was facing him. And there, in bold, gold letters, the name POTTER was emblazoned above Ginny’s number.

He was stunned. They’d never discussed Ginny changing her name. He hadn’t even thought about it in the whirlwind weeks of their engagement. He’d simply assumed, given her career (not to mention her fierce sense of independence) that she would keep hers. It certainly didn’t matter to him- she’d said yes to marrying him, that was all that was important.

“Surprised?” Ginny asked.

“I, erm… yeah,” he replied, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind raced to try to process it all.

For the first eleven years of his life, his name was delightfully ordinary. His aunt once said his name was common , the word dripping with disdain, as if it was the most grievous insult she could bestow. Her implication aside, it was true that his name wasn’t unusual. There was another Harry in his primary school. He’d seen other Potters, too. Once in the clinic, the nurse called out for “Mr. Potter,” and an elderly man rose as Harry stood.  After the man smiled kindly at him and shuffled into the corridor, he’d asked Petunia innocently if the man was a relative. In response, she’d scoffed and told Harry that if he had other relatives, he certainly wouldn’t be living with her.

When he entered the wizarding world, his name ceased to be ordinary, transformed, like everything in his life, on that fateful day of his eleventh birthday. From then on, his name was notorious. It was whispered unsubtly as he walked down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was splashed across headlines in the Prophet. It was jeered by Death Eaters. Far too often, it was said with a reverence that made him exceedingly uncomfortable.  

The thought of Ginny taking his name, and all that came with it, overwhelmed him. A lump began to form in his throat. He swallowed quickly, trying to compose himself, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Love- are you all right?” she said, turning back around to face him.

“I… yeah,” was all he could manage, his voice cracking.

She placed her arms around him gently, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m just s-surprised,” he stammered. “We hadn’t talked   about it, and Hermione’s always going on about how it’s sexist that the woman is expected to take the man’s name. And you’ve worked so hard to make a name for yourself in Quidditch. And you know, er, feminism and all…” He trailed off, aware he was rambling.

She smiled, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him. “Well first, Hermione’s right. It is sexist that it’s assumed that a wife will take her husband’s name. But I think it’s quite clear from your reaction that you didn’t expect me to or assume I would. Right?” She raised her brow.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s fine if you want to keep yours, really.”

“But I don’t,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Plus, I  think there’s plenty of Weasleys to carry on the family name without me, yeah?”

“I know, it’s just…” He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger. “My name- it’s a lot. And I’d understand if you didn’t want to take that on.”

She slipped her arms around him again, pulling herself to him until she was flush to his chest. “Harry,” she said, her tone soothing, her voice reverberating on his chest, “we’ve been together since I was fifteen. I understand everything that comes with the name Potter. And that’s why I want to do this, why I’m choosing to do this- I thought it might be nice if you had someone, family, to share that with. I think that sometimes it's lonely for you, being the only Potter, and I never want you to feel alone.”

She hugged him tightly. He inhaled, his breath shaky, as he let himself sink into her embrace. Seeing her in that jersey, knowing that she wanted to take his name, that they would be united together, permanently- he was overcome. He blinked rapidly and bit his bottom lip, squeezing her back tightly, determined not to spoil the moment.

As his racing heart slowed and he composed himself, he gently tipped her chin up to look at her.

“Gin,” he said, his tone soft and earnest, “I’d love nothing more than to share my name with you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. We could double-barrell, if you wanted-“

She rolled her eyes, “I’d prefer if our children didn’t sound like posh twats every time they introduced themselves, thanks.”

He laughed, then realized- “Our children?”

She nodded and looked up at him through her lashes. “We have talked about that, you know.”

He felt as if he would burst from happiness. He leaned down and kissed her, trying with all his might to put into the kiss what he couldn’t find the words to say, to tell her, with his mouth and the trace of his tongue, how much this meant to him.

She sighed as they broke apart. “I take this to mean you’re happy that in a week I’ll be Ginny Potter?”

“Yes. Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, really. Honestly, I’m so thrilled that you’re marrying me, it wouldn't matter what name you’d chosen.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “In that case, I take it all back. I’m going by Ida.”

“Ida?”

“Yes, Ida Shaggem.”

He burst into laughter.

“No?” she feigned, mirth evident in her tone. “What about Anita Hardone?”

He was laughing so hard now that his shoulders shook.

Her smile grew wider and she bit her lip (he could tell she was trying very hard to keep from laughing). “Well then, I guess Ginny Potter it is.”

She burst into laughter and he pulled her to him, holding her tightly as he walked her backwards towards the bed, both of them still laughing, nearly breathless.

As they reached the end of the bed, her hands grasped the hem of the jersey to pull it off.

“Oh no,” he gasped, still trying to stop laughing. “You’re definitely leaving that on.”

[mymegumi]

SUNRISE OVER TOKYO

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 5.3k words

warnings: nekomata!reader, minor character death and post timeskip

summary: as nekomata’s only grandchild, you’d always felt indebted to him in a way and found time to meet him almost everyday. through the years, you’d heard all the stories he’d wanted to tell of his favorite volleyball team and his travails as a younger man. by chance, you meet the captain of his glory day team who’s everything you didn’t know that you needed.

note: thank you to cass ( @misutv ) for the plot and for basically the whole idea, you’re a real one and ik daddy shemar would be proud of you

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The morning air was crisp, and there were still drops of dew hanging onto the blades of grass in the sitting area of the retirement home. The sun had barely risen over the horizon, and yet the sky was already vibrantly cerulean, pale white clouds blotting out the golden rays.

“It’s lovely out today,” you murmured softly, as if speaking any louder would disturb the calm of the early morning, “I’m glad you convinced me to take you out.”

“Of course!” Your grandfather, unlike yourself, had a booming voice, one he’d used to carve his presence into the minds of everyone around him. His smile was infectious and warm, like the feeling of drinking a cup of hot chocolate on a chilling winter day. “I’m not sure how often you’re let out of your little office to soak up the rays; people forget how often we are like plants, needing the warm summer sun to help us grow and expand into our fullest potentials.”

You loved your grandpa, you really did. He had been the one who had raised you when your parents passed away, taken too soon from you and yet never failing to make sure you had everything you needed in life. Even despite all of the hardships, like money and worrying about your education, he had made sure you always felt the love that children had gotten from their parents.

He tended to ramble a lot, though, and sometimes you just didn’t listen to him all the way. He was, as many old people were, a talker and you were sure that he could chat with you all day if you let him.

“Mhm,” you gripped the handles of his wheelchair a bit harder, pushing him along the pathway of the retirement home, concrete underneath your shoes hard, “they don’t really let us take breaks and take in the air.”

He tutted, tongue hitting the roof of his mouth in annoyance when you said it, and the action of it had you rolling your eyes because you knew he couldn’t see you from where you were standing. “It’s just like corporations these days to be preventing our youth from going outside. When my volleyball team was at its peak, we spent every summer day in the gym with the doors open and the breeze flitting through like a dancer.”

This was usually where you started to tune back into what he was saying, hoping that you could catch glimpses of his self-proclaimed glory days. The volleyball team had been his pride and joy when he was still coaching high schoolers, kids who worked their butts off to get to the national stage and play their rivals.

“Tell me about the team again, grandpa,” you requested, holding the door open to the retirement home as another pair of people left. He gave you a glance over his shoulder, eyes bright with amusement as you flushed, feeling the heat crawl along the nape of your neck.

“Anything for you, sweet one.”

Yasufumi was always kind to your requests, taking each one in step despite the embarrassment they seemed to bring you. You had been at Nekoma when the golden era of his volleyball team was still in action, but you had been going through a rebellious phase, often trying to turn away from the interests and endeavors of your older guardian.

It had only been when he retired from coaching and you had entered into the workforce that you truly had begun to listen to his words of wisdom, each one carried in your heart to serve as a lesson or a purpose for the things you did everyday. He only ever told you those stories when you asked for them—to pull out the fact that you enjoyed listening to him talk about volleyball, or to embarrass you over the fact that you had missed out on meeting many of the young men he was talking about, you wouldn’t know. Instead, he would talk about things that had happened at the retirement center, each one more confusing than the last and the list of unbelievable things that happened never ending.

Yasufumi watched you settle into the chair nearest to one of the windows, shifting uncomfortably in the small wooden chair that the retirement home gave to visitors in the common area, which was now a bit busier since it was later in the morning. People were walking around and talking amongst each other, and somewhere in the distance, you saw a pair of people playing chess at one of the tables outside.

“When the third years were just first years,” he starts, hands folded over themselves and sitting in his lap, “they argued almost constantly. The youngest of the bunch seemed to have a grudge against the shortest of the group that had lasted until they hit my gym floor; listening to them argue was just about the only other noise you’d hear in the gym besides the oldest of the group trying to mediate them.”

Yasufumi leaned back a bit in his wheelchair, joints in his leg creaking and moaning as he adjusted himself. His legs weren’t completely gone, but it was bad enough that you had sought out a doctor to prescribe him a wheelchair.

“Those boys were at each other’s throats for as long as I can remember, and it’s honestly a surprise that they had ended up working out their differences long enough to make anything of themselves.” His smile was filled with warmth and reminded you of your youth with him, every day filled with laughter. “My fondest memories of the team was during their third year, and they put in the best work during that era.”

Your grandfather’s face talking of this era brought feelings of melancholy for you, filled with a regret that you had missed out on his favorite remembrance of high school. If you had only been less filled with a need to rebel and push away, not knowing the value of being by his side until it was almost too late.

He talked to you for hours, retelling the stories of his volleyball team and the things that they had endured when they finally ended up going to nationals to meet their rivals for the first time in what had seemed like years. When you watched him talk, your heart clenched tightly in your chest the way his face portrayed the emotions of an insufferably saccharine past, as if he knew that his age was finally catching up to him.

In your own self loathing, you wished you had met the men that had shaped your grandfather’s glory days and that you had put in more of an effort to become friends with them because they seemed like people that you could have been friends with. You knew that Yasufumi would have appreciated seeing more than just you at the retirement home, but you didn’t have any contact information for you to reach out and see if they would like to come visit.

You had a feeling they would, though, because bonds forged through the trials of sports seemed to run deeper than any others. Giving your grandfather a brief goodbye, you tucked the visit into the part of your heart that each visit went into, for safekeeping on days you wouldn’t be able to see him again.

The next time you visited Nekomata Yasufumi, you were mildly surprised when the receptionist told you that there were already a group of three young men visiting him out in the recreation area. When you signed your name, the three signatures above yours were in a messy scrawl of young adults that were still adjusting to having to sign their name on legal documents; Nobuyuki Kai, Yaku Morisuke and Kuroo Tetsuro.

Despite being prepared for more people when you enter into the common area, you were taken aback by the sheer noise that was coming from the group gathered nearest to your grandfather—a group that was laughing happily over something you couldn’t understand while the tallest of them had a volleyball tucked underneath his arm.

“Oh! There’s the fifth of our group.” Your grandpa called out to you after he spotted you walking in, bag set on one of the hooks at the front for coats and bags. His smile was infectious and before you knew it, there was a smile spreading across your lips. “Let’s move outside, now, we can do introductions on the lawn.”

Your laughter was soft as you made your way to your grandfather’s wheelchair, hands reaching for the grips out of instinct before the tallest of the group, someone you vaguely remember from high school since his hair was so distinguishable, stopped you.

He looked at you with an air of lightness around him, as if he were carefree. “Hey, I got it.”

“Thanks.” You nodded your head to him, lips pulling into a slight smile as you walked around to your grandfather’s side, giving the taller man—whose hair was absolutely atrocious—one last curious glance.

“Kuroo,” your grandfather’s tone was chiding, “you didn’t even introduce yourself.”

“You said we were doing introductions on the lawn!” The man’s tone was light and joking, looking down at the older man before lightly patting down on his shoulder, “I know you’re old, but your memory isn’t going, now is it?”

“You wish it was,” Yasufumi retorted with an eyeroll, arms crossing over his chest, “that way I’d forget about that time you’d flubbed a receive you had claimed would be so easy to get.”

Kuroo, as you had just recently learned was his name, made a noise of distress that landed somewhere in the back of his throat, face twisted in distaste with blotches of pink dusting across his cheekbones and bridge of his nose. “I thought you had forgotten about that, that was so long ago!”

“I’d never forget things that embarrass you,” he joked breezily, wrinkly hand reaching up to grab your hand in his, “because you were insufferable in high school!”

Kuroo turned to you, then, making sure you were looking at him before dipping his head low in a simple greeting. His hair fell a bit, ends drooping and covering up more of his eyes from your gaze. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro. It’s lovely to meet you, Mx. Nekomata.”

“Ah,” you started, hand coming up to wave him off as you felt a rush of heat crawl along the back of your neck at his sudden attention, “my name actually isn’t Nekomata. My mother took her husband’s last name.”

You gave him your name, body heating up just a bit too much when he repeated it—you loved the way his mouth rolled over the vowels and consonants of your name. When you gave him a nod of confirmation after he got it right, the grin he gave you back was almost blinding.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you!”

Now on the front lawn and standing just in front of the pair of other men that were talking amongst themselves, you bowed quickly after offering the both of them your name. Mixed between their smiles and the contagious energy that was Yaku and Kuroo, the energy was nowhere near as awkward as you had feared upon meeting your grandfather’s golden era third years.

Before you know it, the four of you were coerced into playing a few rounds of volleyball—nothing serious and almost incredibly competitive.

Paired together with Kuroo, the man was heartwarmingly kind in a way that you hadn’t been expecting from a man of his nature. In the few interactions you had had with him, you had expected more teasing, almost like you were expecting to have been poked and prodded until he figured out the way your cogs turned. In a nice turn of events, he was simply just the type of man that liked to provoke his friends to get them out of a funk if they were to experience any sort of failure; as often Kuroo would make some sort of misconstrued comment about Nobuyuki if he missed an easy to block to spike.

In between lifting the mood should it turn sour, Kuroo was also effortlessly teaching you the sport you’d avoided all throughout your youth. In avoiding your caretaker, you’d also managed to put learning volleyball on the back burner of things you wanted to do in high school and you’d never learned a lick of it.

Yaku was shouting encouraging words from across the way to you, but after a few minutes you’d ended up tapping out for a quick break. Nobuyuki had offered to step out too, and that left the blond to play a game of volley with Kuroo, the two bantering off handedly while your grandfather was laughing.

It wasn’t often that you saw his expression as bright as you did then, as you were often only met with a sage face when he told you anecdotes to not waste away your early years. There was something in your chest that ached seeing his expression so freely filled with joy, since you knew that some days he wasn’t even capable of getting to his wheelchair. Those days seemed to be making more frequent appearances as of late.

Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, instead you called out to the pair of boys that you wanted to go back to playing a two-on-two. At Nobuyuki’s protests, you had teased him that he would be beat out by a person who didn’t even exercise regularly, which had brought out a whole other slew of arguments. It took your grandfather’s chiding to get the mini game back on track again.

With Kuroo as your teammate, and your grandfather barking out orders to you that you took with a grain of salt, you were only marginally better at the sport by the end of their visit.

Yaku and Nobuyuki had left only minutes earlier, both giving you their well wishes and offering to come visit Yasufumi again when they got the chance. He had only waved them off, telling them to get a significant other before coming back to him.

Kuroo had ended up staying for a bit longer, citing that the game had winded him more now that he was no longer playing volleyball, instead working for the entire association as a whole. You just barely missed the nod of approval your grandpa gave him at his career choice, as if giving him approval for something else.

The three of you had settled into a trio of seats in the common area. By now, most of the people that were visiting loved ones had continued on, leaving the space almost empty. That was in your favor, however, as it meant your grandfather could establish a little spot for himself by one of the love seats, meaning you’d been at Kuroo’s side while the two of them reminisced of days of old.

The stories they swapped with each other ranged from Kuroo’s earliest volleyball days, to Yasufumi’s days playing against Karasuno’s now departed oldest coach. The thought had soured the mood, and despite Kuroo’s best efforts to return it back to normal, your grandfather had instead insisted that the pair of you go back to your normal lives, as opposed to entertaining an old man’s memories. It had been a clear time for the two of you to leave, which found you both walking to the parking lot.

“Do you often visit your grandfather?” Kuroo had his hands intertwined behind his back, walking casually as he glanced at you.

You nodded, looking back at him with a warmth somewhere in your chest developing. “Yeah, as often as I can. I’m usually here when I have days off, since I’m the only grandkid he had.”

Coughing into his hand, he spun his keyring around his finger as he started to slow his pace to match yours. You had a feeling he didn’t want to leave your side yet, and just the thought made you smile to yourself.

“You were really good with him, do you have a good relationship with your grandparents?”

Kuroo laughed, a loud one that came from the deep parts of his chest, like you had just told one of the funniest jokes he had ever heard. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. I had a pretty shitty relationship with my parents, so my grandparents practically raised me. You learn how to deal with older people after a while, and Coach Nekomata had always been like a father figure to me growing up.”

“I get that,” you admitted, turning your head to try and remember where you had parked your car, “it’s hard, sometimes. I love my grandpa, though, and I don’t think I’d trade this experience for anything.”

Kuroo’s smile held a note of forbearance, as if he wanted to tell you something but bit his tongue at the last second. Instead of questioning it, as you normally would if you had more confidence, you just hit the unlock button on your car keys—the car just next to the two of you lighting up and beeping happily.

“This must be you.” He rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck anxiously, and you could have sworn he had something else to say. Instead, you got, “I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nodding your head, you watched him walk further into the parking lot, head shaking slightly.

You had some sort of intuition that wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him, and on your third visit to see your grandfather after the Nekoma third years visited, your premonition of another meeting had been granted.

Signing your name into the guest book, you recognized Kuroo’s looping scrawl a few lines above where you were going to sign. Seeing it in there, you unconsciously straightened your back up a bit, shoulders pushing back to adjust your posture into something a bit more sightly. The receptionist just gave you a warm smile that made the tips of your ears burn.

With that bit of forewarning, walking into the common area to see your grandfather talking to Kuroo wasn’t a surprise.

“Darling!” Your grandfather’s voice rose above the din of the common area, his normal booming voice all you can hear adverse to the polite chatter of others in the general vicinity. A few heads turned to look at him, but his beaming face is enough to have them turning back to their own conversations without a second thought.

“Hey, funny running into you here.” Kuroo patted the seat cushion closest to him on the couch when you arrived, and you gave him a quick nod as thanks. “I was just telling him about the time a friend of mine tried to convince me to sell him a stock in the volleyball association just because he wanted to say he owned volleyball in Japan.”

“It sounds like you’ve got interesting friends,” your murmured, eyes scaling across the slants of his face and down the slope of his nose—you were trying your best to avoid looking at his hair and be seen as rude, “was it one of the ones that was here the last time you were here?”

He shook his head, and it was almost instinct the way your eyes drew to his hair, which seemed to be moving on a mind of its own. You’re pretty sure your grandpa was laughing at the way you were watching, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure. “Nah, those guys are actually sane, it’s a friend named Kenma. He’s a year younger than me, but he’s made a pretty good name for himself.”

Conversation between the three of you flowed easily, since if Kuroo ran out of things to say, your grandfather would find an anecdote to throw around that would cause Kuroo to think of something his own grandparents would try and tell him, before it would end up a battle of philosophies from two different families. Kuroo often lost those discussions, however, because you were Yasufumi’s kin and there wasn’t a battle you wouldn’t fight for him.

The day seemed to pass in almost slow motion, each conversation longer and filled with laughter. There was something about the fact that Kuroo could handle your grandfather so well that sat well with you, and it helped that Yasufumi had already liked Kuroo to begin with that made you unreasonably happy.

You thought, somewhat briefly at one point when your grandfather is laughing at a dumb joke that Kuroo made about the state of taxes in Japan, that you wouldn’t mind seeing more of this man.

“I really enjoyed seeing you,” Kuroo divulged to you later on when your grandfather had had his fill of interacting with people for the day, “and Coach Nekomata, of course.”

The way he added on the second part of the conversation made heat crawl across your face, and the meaning of his words seemed to dawn on Kuroo, as well, if the deep pink flush that creeped along the tips of his ears and at the sides of his neck are any indication. There was a deep satisfaction of making a grown man blush so hard that settled along you, and it made you more confident than you normally were.

“Well, I think that seeing you there was a nice surprise,” you commented, looking at him with what you hoped was a sincere expression painted on your features, “and I definitely won’t mind if it were to happen more often.”

That was the right thing to say, you decided as you watched a bright beam spread across Kuroo’s lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the statement. “Of course, I’ll make sure to stop by more frequently. Maybe I could get your number, so we can coordinate our visits?”

You pulled out your phone to exchange numbers with him, and as he entered his number into your phone, and subsequently called himself from your phone, you just took a minute to admire him.

You’ve only met him a few times, but from what you could tell, he wasn’t a bad guy. Sure his hair was a bit on the obscure side, but you had dated far worse guys than that. He seemed to be a family oriented man, if his relationship with his grandparents and older sisters were any indication from the stories he told you and your own grandfather. He worked as a representative of the Japanese Volleyball Association, so that meant he had put in the work to get where he was and had an eye for things that others might have overlooked.

You saw yourself falling for him very easily, and watching his retreating figure wave to you as he walked to his car, you realized that maybe you already were.

Nekomata Yasufumi passed away on a cool Tuesday evening in the middle of summer.

From what the nurses had told you, he had passed painlessly in his sleep, without so much as a warning that his health was declining to this point. You were just grateful that it wasn’t long, because the thought of him suffering was worse than any hardship you had faced thus far in life.

Your friends had called you and texted you, asking you were okay and if there was anything they could do for you, and yet, there wasn’t a thing that their words said to you that could soothe the ache in your heart. Yasufumi was the only person in your life that had been there steadily, and now that he’s gone, you were a bit lost in where you were meant to go next.

The only person that you had even allowed by your side throughout the entire process of the funeral was Kuroo.

After the day you had exchanged numbers, the two of you texted often—about your grandfather, about his grandparents, and sometimes just about whatever he had seen that had reminded him of you. You weren’t anything more than friends, but you liked to think that Kuroo was just taking it slow, trying to court you like you were something to be valued, rather than doing it in a more modern way.

When he heard that Yasufumi had passed away, he had been a bit distraught at the news. In what would usually be near nightly texts, you had gotten radio silence for a good few days.

You understood, though, because this was another father figure to him, and you didn’t hold his silent treatment against him. When he texted you a few days before the funeral, asking if he could drive you there and stand with you, you agreed almost immediately.

“Nekomata Yasufumi was one of the most carefree men I had ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he read from a paper in his hands, shaking slightly at the top because of the wind, and perhaps a bit because of the shake in his hands, “and he brought joy wherever he went. Working with him, and working as one of his athletes had been one of the most amazing moments in my life. I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything in the world.”

There were a few more people that shared their stories of your grandfather before they buried his casket, each one tearfilled and sentimental in their own rights. There was a deep pain in your chest that dulls a bit more with each joyful memory that others had of the only man in your life for so long.

Kuroo stood by your side throughout the entire process, an arm wrapped around you protectively, and you could feel the warmth of his hand on your upper bicep. When you felt as if the whole situation was too much, and that the tears that you had been shedding throughout the week would make an appearance in front of all these people, you just looked at Kuroo. He offered you a gentle smile each time, a sea of emotions swimming hazel eyes that you understood more than anyone.

After the ceremony, no one faulted you for leaving early.

“I’m sorry.”

Blinking at him, you tilted your head to the side as you wiped at your salt-stained cheeks. “Why? He passed painlessly, and I think he’d be having fun wherever he ended up.”

“I know,” Kuroo amended, chin tilted down towards his chest so you can’t see his expression, “but I’m just sorry that he was the last of your family.”

You made a noise, a bit of a hum and just a noise to let him know that you had heard him. You thought about it for a minute, hands pressed firmly in flat fists, fingers digging crescents into your palms to avoid crying again at the mention of it. You didn’t want to be sad, because you liked to think that your grandfather was somewhere playing volleyball with the coach of Karasuno again, as they should be.

“I think that, I think that I’m going to miss him,” you had started, drawing Kuroo’s attention to you, “but also, I know that I’ll never be alone, because he’s always with me.”

Kuroo chuckled a bit at that. “Yeah, definitely. He cared for you a lot, that’s for sure.”

When the man at your side rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, you inquired softly about what was on his mind. He sighed lightly, leaning a shoulder against the wall the two of you were standing by.

“He had even given me advice on how to ask you out,” he looked away from you, but still you could see the bits of red spreading across the tops of his ears, “and he kept telling me I was waiting too long to ask you out, and that you would get snatched up before I could get a chance. But I just wanted to do it a bit slower.”

“I get it,” you smiled up at him, “but if you asked me out now, I’d say yes.”

“Oh.” Kuroo’s face erupted in a gorgeous shade of rosy pink. “Well, I was going to wait. I thought it might be inappropriate to ask you at Nekomata’s funeral.”

“Mm, well,” you mused, hand reaching towards his, “I get the feeling, he’d just be happy we got together at all.”

Kuroo met you halfway, his hand enveloping yours in a firm grasp. Despite the hole in your life that was oddly Nekomata Yasufumi sized, you thought that maybe there’d be someone who could patch over the wounds that were developing.

“Do you want some time alone?” You looked up at Kuroo with a blink, hand curled in his warmth. “I don’t mind, I can go sit in the car for a bit.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t really have anything to say to him that I can’t say in front of you.”

He leaned down, knee pressing against soft soil with a hand tracing along the stone of a gravestone, Nekomata Yasufumi written in elegant script with the year he was born and the year he passed on it.

“Hey, Coach,” he started, thumb brushing against the granite in smooth, slow strokes, “we just wanted to let you know about how life has been going.”

You crouched down, the side of your thigh pressed against the denim of his jeans. “Gramps, we, uh, we visited Mori and Lev in Russia for a couple of days, which was really lovely.”

The elder of the two was seemingly more successful, despite the modeling career Lev had gotten with his sister. He was doing what he loved in a foreign country, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a bit impressed when he had ordered for you and Kuroo at a restaurant in fluent Russian.

Lev was in the process of learning his third language, English, and had tried to show off in front of the two of you. Morisuke had laughed at him mercilessly, and corrected him in anything that he had gotten wrong, showing off another hidden talent the former libero had kept tucked away.

“The best part of the trip, though,” Kuroo knocked the side of his head against yours gently, in what was nothing more than a love tap, “was putting a ring on their finger.”

He pulled over the hands that were intertwined with yours, tugging the fingers down to show off the golden band adorning your ring finger that rested snugly. After showing it off, the sunlight reflecting off of it in straight lines, Kuroo ghosted his lips over the engagement band he had presented to you.

“We’re gonna keep a seat open for you,” you murmured, reaching out to trace your hand along the engravings of your grandfather’s name, “and I know you’re gonna watch us with a stupid story about Tetsuro that’ll have everyone laughing wherever you ended up.”

Kuroo pulled you closer with an arm winding around your shoulders, lips resting against the crown of your head as you pressed a palm against your chest. Despite the fact that the loss of your grandfather had opened a cavity in your chest, with each passing day the ache seemed to dull just a bit more. You didn’t think it would ever go away fully, but just carrying it with you would mean that it would become bearable.

Kuroo stood without another word, hand resting on your head and shaking a bit to mess up your hair. Before you had come in, you had already agreed that you would get a few minutes alone with your grandfather, and you appreciated the fact that Kuroo understood.

It was early in the morning. The morning dew was clinging to the green blades that curved and bent underneath every step that your fiancé took, each one a soothing contrast to the sun that was peeking up over the Japanese horizon. As the clouds floated through the sky, you sat and talked with your grandfather of all the things that he had missed in the last few months that you had been unable to visit him—your lover, and his former protégé, waiting for you in your car.

t.list :: @nekomabvc @shadowkunoichi @duhsies @iwaizoom @hikariakaashi @kyotarou

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

some scattered thoughts about what i’ve started calling the homecoming au, that au where maedhros and maglor come back to tirion after the war of wrath, end up prisoners-in-all-but-name in finarfin’s palace, and nothing is beautiful and everything hurts. credit for @sunflowersupremes for writing the au that for lack of a better word inspired me, credit to @outofangband for listening to me blather about this over dms, warning to everybody, this au is dark. it’s essentially about maedhros and maglor being abused for being mentally ill, talk of suicide, late stage fëanorians somehow getting worse, generally not a fun time. caveat lector

i feel like it’s worth emphasising that by the end of the war of wrath maedhros and maglor are in a bad, bad mental state

they’re so inured to violence death means nothing to them, and neither of them really remembers what it feels like to be happy. they’ve lost everything, whether to the fires of war or the maw of the oath. there are so many things maglor can’t let himself think about or he’ll tip off the precipice into madness, so many things maedhros has quietly put aside to deal with after the end of the world. they’ve got nothing left but ash and nowhere to go but their own destruction. they’re fully aware of the monsters they are, and they loathe those monsters as much as anyone else

finarfin’s offer of mercy feels like a miracle. it’s a way - it’s a way out, first and foremost, a way to somewhere else, because what could possibly be worse than this? maybe it’s even a way back to the dreamlike world of their childhood, when they were more than their sharp edges and they could look on the future without despair. i figure this is an au where maglor won that last argument, predicated entirely on the possibility of an existence without pain

maedhros is skeptical, but logics himself into going along. on one condition

‘please’ maglor tells their uncle, trying to let his guard down and show as much vulnerability as his pride will allow. ‘do not give us to the valar’

he’s more successful than he realises. the last remaining sons of fëanor have been growing visibly more and more unstable for decades now. even the elves who were once their closest lieutenants approach them with caution now

finarfin catches a glimpse of what his nephews have become. he makes a conscious decision to choose pity over fear

which - yeah, alright. maglor and maedhros need therapy, they need to process their emotions in healthy ways and build selves they can be comfortable in the skins of again. and the general mood in tirion is one of reconciliation. it was the younger generation that went to beleriand, so many people have children they feel like they’ve failed

but if they can un-fail these two, maybe there’s hope. maybe there’s a chance for them to heal

except, well. nobody who stayed in aman - nobody who’s seen cuiviénen, really, beleriand was nasty - can really process just how much healing needs to be done

like. i’ve said this before, but screeching furiously at each other at high volume for multiple hours is a regular thing maedhros and maglor do. they’re the last people in the world either of them is even slightly close to, their relationship is shot through with as much bitter hate as it is steady reliance, and really, who else can they yell at

it’s a maladaptive coping mechanism. their minders recognise this inside five minutes, i’ll give them that much

it’s just. their eventual method of stopping the fight, after trying and failing to talk the brothers down, is to jump them and gag them to stop them making so much noise

partially they were worried it might escalate into a physical fight, which to be fair, these screaming matches occasionally do. but partially they just wanted them to stop

(this is the first really big incident, but things have been subtly, uncomfortably wrong for a while now. there’s this vibe that everything would be so much easier if the brothers just behaved. acted like the nice normal princes they used to be)

(but they can’t. they’re trying (well, maglor is; maedhros is mostly going along out of resignation) but they can’t. and when all the little tensions of this supposed-to-be-happy-ending get too much, they take it out on each other, like they always do. what are they supposed to do, unleash their own corruption onto the innocent valinoreans?)

(as is usual with these shriekfests, it got vicious fast. it was maedhros saying that he should have just killed the both of them back in beleriand that makes their minders decide they have to stop this now)

the whole situation’s a mess. the way the non-exile noldor are thinking, if they can just put all the unpleasantness behind them, things can go back to normal and they can forget any of this ever happened

the valinoreans are trying to help, you understand. it’s just that their definition of ‘help’ involves sweeping everything under the rug so they can all be happy again

and everything the brothers do to remind people of all that makes them... uncomfortable

maedhros and maglor are never left alone. there’s always someone within at least hearing distance, keeping an eye on them. they initially say it’s for the brothers’ own benefit - so there’s always someone nearby in case they need help, like - but the first time maglor gets so frustrated he starts trashing his room he is immediately seized

the valinoreans get very good at stopping the brothers from doing the thing. they are less good at addressing the reasons why the brothers feel the need to do the thing

maglor is by far the angrier of the two. when he has a bad day, everyone around him knows it. he snarks, he glares at people from corners, he refuses to be at all cooperative. even on his good days, his mood never goes far above ‘melancholic’

maedhros, on the other hand, is quiet. he does what people tell him to, mostly. he sits in place and acts the perfect patient and only occasionally tries to kill himself. a poisonous plant picked here, a window’s lock subtly fiddled with there, he’s good at waiting for his minders to lower their guard enough he can take a chance

(neither of them are particularly violent towards the valinoreans to begin with, and their violent tendencies towards themselves, each other, and inanimate objects quickly recede. lashing out like that always, always makes things worse)

sometimes he’ll regress back into behaviours he learned in angband. the first time this happens and the valinoreans figure out what’s going on, he gets a very polite finarfin asking him to please stop equating them with the enemy, finarfin knows they aren’t settling in as well as they might but it’s very offensive to be compared to morgoth

still, they learn. there’s this one incident when maedhros is having a fit, and while all their minders are running about trying to make him stop, maglor, who happens to be in the room, is standing completely still, staring at nothing

one of the minders snaps ‘come on, help! don’t you care about your brother?’

... he does. they’re closer now than they were in beleriand, leaning against each others’ bodies, quietly holding hands. the palace is full of people all the time, but they’re still so isolated from the rest of the world

it’s just hard to protect someone else when you’re barely hanging on yourself

you ever write a perfect closing line, and also it’s 1:30 am? yep, yep, i’m going to bed. more tomorrow, i’d guesstimate three parts in total

[arty-e]

Alfonso’s Story part 3 (Camilla and Elizabeth)

Five years (11,495) since Alfonso had sent Isabella to the Asylum in hopes of her getting better, the Spades Royal Court receive news that the Queen-Consort had died. Alfonso had been informed that Isabella had contracted the Snowflake Disease and quickly deteriorated and died (though this had actually been a lie and a cover up of the Asylum). The same disease that took his mothers and his two eldest son’s lives had now taken Alfonso's wife as well. Alfonso shut himself away for months crying and mourning the loss of his wife and Queen. He refused to let anyone talk or see him; apart from Elizabeth:

Elizabeth, having been his friend before his wife’s death and had listened to his woes without complaint, came to his side immediately and comforted him in his grief. Elizabeth managed to get him out of his room and to look after himself with walks. He truly appreciated everything she did for him.

While Alfonso was more focused on looking after himself and his mental health while Elizabeth cared for him, the other courtiers grew somewhat jealous. Many had begun to throw themselves at Alfonso in hopes of becoming his next spouse. Even when he had confirmed he was not willing to marry ever again they began to fight to be his right hand Advisor as Queen of Spades, some even wanting to be a surrogate for any heirs he would need for the future. But his attention was on Elizabeth who tried her best to distract her friend from the ridiculous games the nobles were trying to get him to play. Alfonso, very aware of the nobles desperate for his power and growing somewhat paranoid, pulled Elizabeth aside one day questioning if this had all been her plan in hopes of becoming the next Queen of Spades, she adamantly denied it and explained her relationship with Camilla, even showing off the ring that Camilla had given her. Alfonso relieved that Elizabeth had no ulterior motive carried on their friendship with peace of mind:

Elizabeth’s parents, noticing the close bond their daughter had with Alfonso, began to push for her to marry him and become the new Queen of Spades. Elizabeth tried her best to persuade her parents that was not what she or Alfonso wanted nor needed however they grew more and more persistent. Seeing her parents grow more power hungry each passing day she tried to tell them she had already promised herself to Camilla in hopes it would stop their efforts to push for a union between Alfonso and her. However this only enraged her parents who said they have no choice but ‘to remove the problem’ locking Elizabeth away so she was unable to warn Camilla or run away with her:

Camilla had been taking Kamir out into the capital again, both having a fun evening together. As the two were returning the palace Camilla was grabbed by one of the Royal guards announcing she was being taken to the Asylum because she had been showing strange and unruly behaviour that needed to examined in order to ‘help her’. As Camilla was being dragged away Kamir tried his best to stop he guard arguing Camilla’s case that she was completely sane and showed no sign of anything the guard had claimed. However Kamir’s words were met with deaf ears and Camilla dragged away to the dungeons until the Asylum would collect her the next day:

Elizabeth, desperate to save Camilla from whatever her parents have planed for her, tried her best to break free from her room. With the door securely locked she opted to climb out the window. Upon finally breaking free from her room she ran through the Spades Palace looking for Alfonso, praying to the Fae that he could help her. She found him in his room and begged and pleaded with him to help save her and Camilla. Through her sobs she told him everything about her parents demanding she try and marry him. Alfonso was speechless from seeing Elizabeth in such a state and hearing what her parents had done. As this was going on Kamir also barged into his room demanding he release Camilla and began ranting about how using the Asylum as a place of punishment rather a place of healing was evil and wrong. As Kamir ranted and raved Elizabeth ran over to him questioning if he knew where Camilla was and if she was already too late. Kamir shocked to see Elizabeth so upset tried to tell her that Camilla had been taken away by a guard and will be taken to the asylum tomorrow. Alfonso told the two to stay in the room and he would get Camilla back:

Alfonso silently collected Camilla from he cell she had been sitting in and guided her back to his room where Elizabeth and Kamir were waiting. Elizabeth was so relieved to see Camilla again and mostly unharmed, the two cried in one another’s arms. Alfonso watched the reunion filled with unbridled rage. He was furious with how his friend and her lover had been treated and all under his nose. He was also furious to learn that the place he had built to help people, to help his wife, was being used to get rid of people who were ‘bothering’ the nobles.

Alfonso announced to the three in the room that Elizabeth will be his wife and she and Camilla would be under his protection. His only request was that Elizabeth were to give him an heir. The reunited couple agreed to this knowing that if they didn’t both of them would still be at the mercy of Elizabeth’s parents. Alfonso reassured them that they could still be together and Elizabeth will only be his friend and Queen and nothing more. He tells Kamir to never speak of this evening again. He also warned him to never to barge into his room unannounced and be so rude to him again otherwise he would throw him out of Spades without a boat or paddle:

It was announced to the Spades court that Elizabeth would be the new Queen of Spades and Alfonso’s wife. They also announced that Camilla will be Elizabeth’s lady-in-waiting, a role that had always been reserved for nobles. There was some outrage with the announcements but Alfonso shut it down real quick. It’s not the only thing that Alfonso received backlash for; the age difference between him and Elizabeth, something he had been uncomfortably aware of himself and loathed that he was marrying someone who could be his daughter. The two were married without problem and Elizabeth was crowned queen-consort and the new Queen of Spades:

Both Alfonso and Elizabeth were very uncomfortable married to one another but they remained very good friends. Alfonso removed Elizabeth’s parents from his court forbidding them from interacting with heir daughter. He was even prepared to punish Elizabeth’s half-brother as well but Elizabeth defended him when it is revealed he had played no part or even knew what their parents were doing. Two years into their marriage Elizabeth gave birth to their son, Prince Dylan, Jack of Spades. Alfonso absolutely adored his new son and doted on him constantly for the first few months before he grew scared and distanced himself from his child. Having lost all four of his children in his past marriage he feared he would lose Dylan as well so kept himself away in order not to get too attached in case the worst happened:

Camilla and Elizabeth kept their relationship going both were ecstatic about the new baby. Camilla also loved Dylan and treated him like her own at first but was soon pushed away from the young prince by his tutors and nannies saying she had no place acting like his parent. Elizabeth tried her best to include Camilla in this new family as she saw Camilla was just as much Dylan’s parent as her and Alfonso were, but social constructs only distanced her further from the family which was hard on both of them. Camilla feeling alone and wanting to be part of a family of her own was approached by Kamir who needed an heir himself. He explained his plight of being Aromantic and Asexual man and how his mother was desperate for him to get married or at least have a child to carry on their title. He asked if she was willing to have his baby. She was confused by the proposition considering she was a Spade common and he was a Heart noble. Kamir explained his ‘brilliant idea’ that Camilla will have their child and if they had a heart mark like Kamir they would come to Hearts with him once they were an adult. He would send support and visit them both often and even if the child was a Spade he would send support and wouldn’t abandon them. Camilla agreed to his plan though she was rather skeptical.

Camilla gave birth to Alvis, who was born with a Heart noble mark meaning he would be in fact Kamir’s heir. With Alfonso’s permission, Elizabeth and Camilla had Dylan and Alvis raised together as brothers and they were able to become a little family in a slightly unconventional way:

[rockets-and-raccoons]

My mum knew when I was really young that I wasnt straight. Not that she consciously recognised it. I was the child she constantly told that love was love. I could love whoever I wanted and that was okay. I was the child that was constantly told by my parents that gays deserved rights and that they would always love me no matter what. I was the child they excitedly told when gay marriage finally became legal.

I grew up repressed with severe internalized homophobia issues. To the point where to this day I still severely struggle with it.

My grandad doesnt believe in gay rights. He thinks it's a phase. That these people are ill. The village I grew up in was very Christian. Being gay was wrong. It was disgusting. Gay people needed serious mental help (ironically half the people my age that grew up there have turned out to be part of the lgbtq+ community).

I went to high school in the neighbouring city. Where everyone around me talked about how disgusting being gay is. The fear of a gay person in the changing rooms was talking about constantly. Gay adoption and marriage was considered wrong. Liking people of the same sex was considered disgusting and uncomfortable.

I was terrified everytime I had to get changed for pe. I was terrified to just look at other girls. And it didnt help that the majority of my friends were boys. I didnt spend much time with girls. The one girl I was good friends with- was suddenly the source of rumours. Everyone at school knew before I did. Talked about if before I accepted it.

She's gay.

I denied it. I didn't believe I was for a second. Did everything I possibly could to prove I wasn't. And yet for my last 2 years at school everyone made jokes about my sexuality. Told me I was gay and in love with my friend. (Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't. I refused to process my emotions properly back then.) They joked about how I was only straight until I was horny. That I was so obviously gay. But it was a joke. A mocking thing that made me feel so horrific that I did awful, horrific things to prove everyone wrong. Things I have to live with, that i hate myself for. Just becaus every time someone suggested I might be gay, all I could think of was 'it's so wrong.' 'Its disgusting' 'its cruel to children to be raised by gay parents' '1 in 5 people are gay, I sure as hell hope it's never going to be me' 'nobody wants to be gay, it's an illness.' 'I cant be around gay people, they make me uncomfortable' 'they'll stare at you in the changing rooms' 'they'll force themselves on you'

I still cant share a bed with another girl without being terrified. I cant be in the same room as another woman getting changed - I havent had to deal with PE in a decade. Havent heard those whispers in a decade.

Every time I become friends with another girl I'm terrified of what will happen when they find out I'm gay. I can't connect with them properly.

And sometimes. Sometimes I just truly hate myself. I hate the fact I find women attractive. That I'd rather spend the rest of my life with a woman rather than a man. Sometimes, often, I still find that disgust curling up in my stomach.

It doesnt matter that I dont live there anymore. That I now live somewhere so open and so easy to accept everyone and anyone. It doesnt matter that I've admitted it to myself, my family, and my friends. That I tell people so easily, I'm gay.

I'm still terrified of what would happen if people from my home found out. I still hear their conversations. Their mocking words. I still feel the effects of their homophobia. And sometimes I still wish I could pretend I was straight.

I was lucky to be born into such an open and accepting family. But by god, I wish I'd been brought up where I live now. I wish I didnt lie in bed hating myself so much at times. I wish I could be at peace with who I am. Rather than wishing I could go back in time and somehow change myself.

I remember telling my mum I was gay, and her not understanding why I was so distraught. Because 'you should know by now I love you no matter what' - and I didnt know how to tell her society, my friends, our community, were all going to despise me. Hate me. Tell me I told you so. I told my dad minutes after he said he wished his daughters were gay bc he hated dealing with the heterosexual drama and boyfriends. He couldn't understand why I was crying, because he wanted gay children. He had told me my whole life he would always love me no matter what. I was free to love whoever I wanted. And I didnt know how to tell him the world made me feel like I was disgusting and wrong and my existence was even worse than that of rapists.

And my grandpa, who I dont get on with, who doesnt really like me, who I was sure hated the gay community (and he has since admitted that if it was years prior he would have disowned me over sexuality) emailed me to tell me he was proud of me, that being gay wasnt wrong and he had been wrong about how he felt about the lgbtq+ community.

My grandad still thinks I'm going through a phase.

My best friend came out to me in tears, telling me he wished he had known we were both struggling, so we could have at least had each other.

When I finally told my other friends. There was no 'I told you so's' suddenly talking about sexuality wasnt a thing. It was a taboo topic nobody wanted to deal with. The girl everyone joked I was in love with, slowly disappeared from my life.

It's funny until it's true. And that's when you really realise the jokes were really, truly jokes. They didnt believe what they were saying. They just enjoyed the rise they got out of you.

And when I think about being a teenager. Despite the fact its ten years long. The only thing I can truly remember is the internal and external homophobia. Everything else feels hazy. The good times. The bad. It's all a fog that's over-taken by the self-loathing that I still carry.

I wish I could tell my teenage self that it gets better.

I wish my parents would believe me when I tell them I dont blame them for living where they did. We couldn't afford to move. They loved me, they love me, and that's what matters.

I wish I hadnt spent so long chanting 'I'm not gay' before bed. Because I knew from the age of 13, and spent the rest of my teen years in denial. Telling myself I was wrong.

But then I see my sister. My sister who is 10 years younger than me. Who had a big sister come out when she was just 8 years old (I came out at 18, yet spent a further 2 years trying to prove I wasnt. I came out too early. But I figured myself out. Accepted myself more, with the help of my family, and my best friend). She has grown up with more progressive media. Has moved to a more progressive place. Hell, her school has an lgbtq+ club. She has one (1) straight friend. She came out as bisexual at 12. But the older shes getting she thinks that her male crushes were caused by heteronormality and she thinks she might be gay. And shes open. Shes proud. Shes unapologetic in who and what she is.

I think about my self hatred. My self-loathing. About my internalised homophobia. I think of every night I spent lying in bed thinking 'One in five people is gay, it's not me. It won't be me. I'm not gay.' And I look at my little, wonderfully, unapologetically herself, little sister. And I think, that every struggle I've ever been through is worth it. If she gets to feel proud of herself because I've come out. Because my parents had to move bc of me. Because I've done everything I can to support her. To love her. To pretend to love myself for who I am in front of her.

Every day I struggle, I think to myself she doesnt have to. I'm one of the last millennials. She's gen z. And shes not my kid. But theres such a large age gap that I feel that generational difference. And I can't have children of my own. And suddenly, I find myself understand what my parents mean when they say that their suffering was worth it whenever they see us gain something out of it. Making things easier for someone you love, for someone so young, it makes it almost feel like it was worth it.

That trauma is going to stay with me. But my coming out too early, is what had my sister questioning her own sexuality. And it happened early enough in her life. She was questioning it before she hit her teens. She told me she knew she liked girls before she hit ten. But she wasnt too sure what that meant. And she wa worried because biphobia in our family is bad. But the we moved away. And she was watching adventure time and steven universe. And I was suddenly openly accepting myself and flirting with girls. And making jokes about my sexuality. And she came out. So young. So proud. And my parents were accepting of her bisexuality (albeit worried about how the rest of the family would react). And I did what I could to support her. Buying badges and flags and taking her to pride. And now shes come out as fully gay and I'm so happy and hoe safe she felt her journey has been. That at 15 she isnt scared to tell her friends (and they're not afraid to tell her). At 15 she might actually have a girlfriend. And shes been to pride. Goes to pride.

And I am so, so proud of her.

I would love to go back in time and tell myself that it's okay to accept who I am. But I cant.

But my sister grew up knowing it was okay to accept who she was. And my coming out helped my best friend accept who he was.

I didnt have any lgbtq+ friends growing up (that I knew about). There were no clubs. No tv shows. My only support was my mum and my dad.

My sister has a club. She has our family. Her friends. Her school (no awful changing room comments. No snide remarks) She has an open and accepting community. I feel so relieved that she'll (hopefully, pls universe, be kind to her) never have the same experiences I did.

[nyx-9com]

Request: Scorpio ASC + Virgo Sun + Capricorn Moon | Exact Birth Time: 9AM | Birth Date: (09/20/1999) | Birth Place: Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam | Name: Anh | Sex: Female | thank you!!

(: Thank you all for your patience, I’ll be trying to get caught up on these now. I feel a part of me may have been aware of just how long this response would turn out to be and procrastinated quite a bit.

A note: You may notice that I use Mars for primary rulership of Scorpio. I do in fact regard traditional rulers of the signs (Mars-Scorpio, Saturn-Aquarius, Jupiter-Pisces) based in the inner, more personal nature of those planets. I do consider Pluto, Uranus, and Neptune if they are prominent by angle, conjunction, or aspect, especially the traditional ruler is not. This may indicate more public bent to the way that individual expresses the signs energy. The energy may not be used in a personal sense. Otherwise I consider their influence over a sign minimal; largely contained to house placement and activations by transits/progressions/solar arcs.

Scorpio ASC + Virgo Sun + Capricorn Moon

1H Mars/Pluto + 11H Sun + 3H Moon

Wow, wow what a beautiful chart. I hardly know where to start, so forgive me if I jump around. There are a couple of things aside from your ASC + SUN + MOON components that I think are important for me to point out. First off, your 1H Scorpio Chiron is at the anaretic degree: 29. This indicates a crisis around the themes and lessons represented by your Chiron. You are expected to integrate these lessons this lifetime—in fact, you must. More and more intense situations will arise until you are forced to confront and learn these lessons. Some would say that this is your most mature energy, in this lifetime you must pass the exam to show your mastery of it. What a wonderful individual you must be, Wounded Healer.

Chiron in the first house deals with a wound to the personal identity or sense of self, and in Scorpio this may have come through loss or death. There can develop and unhealthy obsession with death, loss, lack. Don’t focus on these thoughts- you will attract more of the same. This is because the universe doesn’t seem to recognize negatives in focus- that is to say: focusing on how much you don’t want to lose someone can produce loss. The universe just feels you focusing on ‘losing something’, it doesn’t seem to be receptive to the “I don’t” in “I don’t want this to happen”. A more positive way to attract would be focusing on how much you DO want something or someone in your life. Ie; visualizing your grandmother being in your future childrens’ lives rather than focusing on not losing her before they are born. (Random example!) The difference seems like nuance, but the effect on your psyche and your life in general will be large.

There can be a tendency to sublimate the self, almost as if to control the ‘death’ of the self before uncertain circumstances can take that control from you. Frequently, people with Chiron in the first house have a rough start in life. They learn they can rely on themselves though they don’t always necessarily like themselves or have a healthy portrait of who they really are. Sometimes out of a misdirected loathing for the things that made them, they mistakenly come to hate the who they have become. Interestingly, they are often the greatest healers of people. They give others the right to forgive themselves their darkness but they deny themselves that same right. Perhaps this is because a sign like Scorpio comes with killer survival instincts and the grit to claw oneself tooth and nail through situations that would rend most limb from limb. Scorpio will gnaw off its own leg to free the rest of the body, kill with bare hands to survive, Scorpio will cannibalize to avoid starvation. If that seems graphic, I apologize, but I mean to illustrate that Scorpio will go to extremes that other signs don’t have the guts to tolerate, Scorpio is self-protective, Scorpio is “at all costs”. (And to be clear, I am speaking strictly in metaphorical terms of the energy of the sign Scorpio- not calling Scorpio people cannibals or anything. :P ) The thing is, when you “survive at all costs” you reach the light at the end of the tunnel. And when you get to that point and normalcy begins to resume, you can look back and be horrified at the individual you became to traverse that inferno. The fact that we have such darkness in us can be frightening, “at all costs” is never a pretty situation to look at. These types of behaviors might still exist in you long past their use-by date, making one feel dangerous and perhaps ugly. This is where the self-denial and self-hatred can come from.

I can only hope that you don’t need to hear any of this, that this placement didn’t manifest this way for you. But in case you need to hear it: forgive yourself. You are who you are, a complete person, and you have a right to love everything about yourself, even the parts that are frightening or messy. If you seek the positive expression of this sign (any sign really), then you will know that you are everything you could be and everything you should be. You won’t have to worry and wonder. Subconsciously negatively expressing the traits of this sign can become a way to confirm self-hatred which becomes a vicious cycle. The more you bash yourself, the more depressed you become, the less likely you are to seek positive expression, the more you reaffirm yourself to be a negative person. Be careful you are not setting yourself up to behave in ways you don’t approve of, always choose your personal high-road.

With that aside, let me continue on to the rest of your chart. You have this lovely Virgo Sun in the 11th house, a very public house and one tied with large associations. It’s also the house of hopes and dreams and greater fortune. While you likely display the regular logic and organization of a Virgo outwardly, I can see that you’re an emotional and compassionate individual. You keep that largely to yourself, in fact I don’t think most people realize what high ideals you hold for society. Now I wouldn’t call you outgoing by any stretch, but I would bet that you have plenty association with people. Probably through work. You’re a highly capable and very structured individual, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find you in leadership. You’re still young so it’s possible you are not involved with your career just yet. Your Sun rules the 10th house cusp and is placed in the 11th, or 2nd from the 10th – earnings from career – so at some point in your life, your career will be prominent and I don’t doubt that you’ll earn a pleasant living. With your Sun owning that 10th cusp, I don’t doubt that career has always been an important focus for you, even when young.

That Capricorn Moon. Now Moon is in detriment in Capricorn, describing how uncomfortable you can feel expressing your emotions or even having them. Moon gets a little boost from being a triplicity ruler of Capricorn, it’s a fertile sign that likes to provide. So while emotions and expression may feel somewhat uncomfortable for the native to have, Moon typically compensates by quietly caring for others, in a way, cultivating life. You might enjoy caring for plants more than people. You may fuss over the health of those you care about. Sometimes others think you’re picking at them or criticizing them, but you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t care. You’d just let them get on with their dumb lives and their dumb mistakes. Note that the Moon joys in the 3rd house, so that helps your Moon feel a little comfier too. A lot of your care could be fraught with worry, if you have siblings you may be close, probably with a more unspoken bond. You may have been the one to take care of them growing up. You’re probably known as a kind but serious and reserved individual when it comes to your neighbors. The trine to your Sun should help you to be aware of your emotional needs a bit more than some Cap Moons, but this trine is part of a Grand Trine formation which includes your retrograde Saturn on the Taurus 7th cusp. Frequently this indicates a lack of a father figure, you may have had to be your own dad. This is probably linked with the themes of your first house Chiron. You might lock up emotionally in romantic relationships because of this. It’s perhaps something that you inwardly berate yourself for and can become rather depressed about, feeling hopeless to change the pattern. Perhaps you know when you should open up or should be warmer, but you feel like you can’t. It’s especially unfortunate because you are very, very loving and so very serious about commitment. You want your relationships to stand the test of time. I will point out the mutual reception of your Moon with this Saturn- you can solve this, these planets want to help each other, it’s just hard work. The blockage comes from being so very, very cautious and careful that sometimes you paralyze yourself. You may also allow yourself to miss worldly opportunities due to a lack of a sure outcome. Change is not something you are comfortable with; in fact, you can be a very rigid individual. This structure will take you far in life but make sure you don’t completely box in your soul during the process. Sometimes you must keep in mind that you can’t plan everything (and you are probably thinking ‘yes I can’ right now), because of the uncontrollable element of surprise. Which I’m sure you hate. Looking at this chart, I can see how sometimes this extremely rigid way of public/romantic behavior can actually create obstacles for you in the area of your career. Sometimes you need to let go a little- not only will you feel better, but it can be helpful to your success, which is what really matters to you. It causes problems in your home life as well; sometimes you might just flip out uncharacteristically because you’ve been repressing and controlling yourself so hard. This is a very visible part of your personality, people see you as a sober, reliable individual, withdrawn with a depressive streak but loving.

People feel Scorpio ascendants intensely. With your ascendant ruler and co-ruler in your first house, you come off as extremely intense to others. In fact, while in public you can seem withdrawn, people are surprised when dealing with you one-on-one that you come on strongly with single-minded purpose. You create your own images and slip between them as needed, in the typical manner of Scorpionic transformation. You know how to present yourself to get what you want. For this reason, your appearance is very important to you. When people use the term “commanding an appearance” they’re talking about you. You select your clothing, hairstyles, mannerisms for a specific effect. Nothing is trivial. You are not to be trifled with, a formidable opponent, and people do sense that about you. This danger forms part of your innate sex appeal; you are a black widow. Do they want you to fuck them or kill them? They don’ t know…maybe both? You are truly a creative force though, and people see readily the huge amounts of energy you encompass and the countless irons in the fire that you so innately maintain. You have a great deal of power over others, even in a social sense- people are commanded by you. You are a highly passionate person, the fires that burn within you sizzle through that famous Scorpion stare. You are such a brave person. A born leader. Because of all this, it can be challenging for you to stand aside and share power with others. In fact, you may have literally no desire to do this. You are a very capable leader and most probably the one who should be in charge in a given situation, just make sure you take charge in a non-despotic sort of way. Express your energy and enthusiasm for success rather than your control and natural power. See where others operate from and seek to unite them with their goals and they will happily follow their brave, benevolent leader and they will praise you while they do. Oh, a last note that I forgot to point out. Your North Node sits smack on your Leo MC. Leadership in your career is simply a part of your destiny in this life. Strive and go towards it- do not lock yourself at home and deprive the world of your power.

[in-tua-deep]

any more soul crushing five hcs u have in that brilliant mind of yours?

you ask for soul crushing but i have soft ?? i mean soft but also with hurt behind them bc that’s how i roll

Five’s primary social interactions in his entire life have been with children. With his siblings, who were children. The only other socialization he has is probably with other assassins and I have some serious doubts about Five actually deigning to socialize with his fellows given the office scene sooo

what i’m leading up to is the scene rattling around in the back of my head of one of the siblings making a deal with Five and Five in all seriousness raising up his hand with one finger extended and asking for a pinkie promise because you can’t break a pinkie promise and genuinely Five hasn’t spent enough time around other adults to know how to be an adult so even though he continuously insists he isn’t a child I definitely think he has some childish mannerisms simply because socially speaking he’s still a teenager oof

so honestly Five is a paradox of being both adult and child at the same time because while he was, physically, an adult, he’s never been socialized to be an adult? We teach our kids to grow up, we model behaviors and correct them, ground them when they sneak out and reward them for good grades and listen and advise and teach them how to apologize. We grow out of old habits when the people around us stop doing them and we notice that other people our age aren’t being ‘childish’ (of course, plenty of people realize that’s bullshit and go back to enjoying ‘childish’ things as they please) but Five never had that!! The only real adult role model he ever had was Reginald! That’s it! That’s his primary example of adulthood! Honestly no wonder he’s so messed up! And that’s all he had for forty years! And then he’s around adults again and they’re all time travelling assassins holy shit this boy has never had a healthy role model in his life

look I am fully aware that Klaus has taken the role of the Dramatique Bitche of the family but there is a second drama bitch in this family and it is Five. I mean he’s Mr. “That’s one badass stapler!” or how about cheerfully waving at an people who want to kill him and teleporting before they can put a bullet in him?? Mr. “I’M THE FOUR HORSEMEN” before vomiting on Luther’s shoes? I fucking love him and if you don’t think Five very much appreciates Klaus’s dramatic flair you’re wrong look at his proud smile at Meritech if you think him and Klaus don’t get into some absolute shenanigans you are incorrect they are dangerous together and feed off of one another’s chaotic energy

Five can’t lie well. Like, I yell a lot about what a manipulative little shit he can be, but he doesn’t lie well. He’s spent too much time alone and can’t hide his emotions like I watch him at the Commission HQ and he’s so clearly not going to bend to them bless his heart. He lies by telling the truth, but only a bit of it and allowing people to lie to themselves - he only gets as far as he does in the Commission because the Handler wanted him there and she offered him things she assumed he wanted (his old body, his siblings safety) and he asked to discuss those with her because he wants her to assume he’s planning on sticking around long enough to have those discussions, if that makes sense? And maybe if he has time to plan and rehearse he’s okay but lying on the spot not so great, he usually deflects with sarcasm (”What are you doing, Five?” “well i was hoping to escape my headache but you just won’t seem to leave me alone”)

craves approval but doesn’t know who he wants that approval from?? As a child he clearly spent a lot of time both hating his father and craving his love, and he hasn’t lost that. But Reginald is dead, and Five loathes the Handler and the Commission he wouldn’t look for approval there - but he has his siblings now? And similarly to with Reginald he both craves their approval and loathes that he craves their approval which can cause him to seek them out and reject them in equal turns which,, can give his siblings (and him) emotional whiplash tbh but i mean can you imagine Five actually confronting the fact that he craves approval?? he’d rather chew off his own foot

honestly though just give me some fluffy scenes where like,, a butterfly lands on Five and he’s just like ???? ????????????? or like if a dog runs up to him and he just,, doesn’t know what to do what that and Klaus encourages him to pet it or something and Five just being dubious and Klaus leading by example and just some nice bonding experience okay

honestly them all supporting each other and being a family is all i’ve ever wanted in life like please support this feral child because he’s going to be so very lost after they stop the apocalypse,, he doesn’t know how to interact with people anymore (Meritech people, Kenny’s mum, the guy at Griddy’s, he makes them all uncomfortable or snaps at them or doesn’t pick up on their cues - he doesn’t even seem to realize that the tow truck guy was weirded out by the conversation) and just leaving him to his own devices would be,, inadvisable

all of the siblings at some point have had to just grab five and make hasty exits before he genuinely murders someone though the fact that he allows it says that he realizes that his siblings probably have a better read on the situation/have a better grasp on ‘appropriate responses’ than he does

the biggest tragedy is honestly that five is intelligent enough to understand when he’s missing things and is intelligent enough to know his weaknesses with people (which is why he recruits Klaus to help with Meritech) and while ruthless allows his siblings to pull him back when necessary (Luther getting Five to not kill that guy, you can’t convince me that if Five was convinced killing that random dude would stop the apocalypse he would let the absence of a gun stop him - he killed someone with a pencil)

i just want him to be HAPPY

[thel3tterm]

Our Author is Dead

This is my current novel project. I’ve been working on it for ~5 years, and its been through many painful drafts and revisions.

Current status: about halfway through the final draft. ~23 chapters and counting.

Read it here!  What is it about?

When Rouge’s boyfriend, Michael, goes missing under mysterious circumstances, he leaves behind boxes of incomprehensible research, and a realization that he hadn’t been the meek eccentric they always believed.

Rouge wanders from town to town, trying to piece together what happened and hopefully bring him home.

Along the way, they have to deal with biological monstrosities, an enigmatic being who eats words, a vigilante in a rabbit mask, overpowered teens on the run from a nightmarish organization, and worst of all- a war over who gets to be the protagonist of the story they apparently live in.

The World:

Our Author is Dead takes place in a country known as Doma.

Doma is very similar to our contemporary society. There’s junk food, convenience stores, comic books, air conditioning, interstates… but no electricity. The east is bordered by an ocean, and its western desert ends in an incomprehensible, uncrossable ‘wall’ of abnormality.

Lets Talk Biomancy: All technology is based upon living organic tissue- a field known as Biomancy. The field is completely normalized in their world. It gets them from place to place, lets them communicate long distances, runs the factories, does pretty much everything electricity does for us. In many cases its unnoticeable, running through the walls or inside of gadgets one might not even suspect are alive. The most noteworthy examples though, are full fledged lab created ‘animals’ of sorts. They might be pets, household assistance, or most commonly, vehicles. Zap Heads: Some people actually do study electricity, and believe in the merits of it as an alternative means of engineering. …Of course, we all know that its just a fringe science and that there’s no way to actually use electricity for anything substantial. People who study it call themselves Electricians. Everyone else calls them Zap Heads.

Novus: A subgroup of people in this country are known as Novus. A Novus, for one reason or another, is born with a slight or major split from their own body. Most people are only able to have an influence within themselves. They are only able to think inside their heads and move what’s attached to them. A Novus is able to have an influence outside of themself, which can manifest in a myriad of ways. Some might bend reality around them to their will, some might be able to reach into another person’s head and change things around. -Novus are looked at negatively by most of the country, and are often disparagingly called ‘Wiz’, based on the thought that they’re like witches. -Medical researchers believe that it is some kind of a birth defect, but are unable to determine if the root is environmental or genetic. -They’ve been noted to have a much higher average body temperature, and a weaker immune system. Flexing their 'abnormalities’ seems to require an extreme amount of energy, so they need to eat a lot more than average and struggle to keep a healthy weight. -Religious people believe that it is caused by a moral failure, and that Novus need to have more self discipline to 'correct’ themselves. -Upon discovery, Novus are immediately documented and given a facial tattoo and serial number. -Most Novus wind up being seized and taken to a 'rehabilitation’ center before they reach the age of eighteen. Few will ever actually leave the rehab centers. Only a small number remain free to adulthood. The Bones: One of the oldest and most prestigious families in Doma is known as the Bones. Despite appearing frequently in history textbooks, newspaper and magazine articles, interviews, important dinners, parties, and the like, very little is ACTUALLY known about the Bones. Here are some definite knowns: -They invented Biomancy several hundred years ago. -They are the only family who actually knows how to make a Biom from scratch, and they hold this secret very close. (Factories merely assemble the Bioms, but an outside party is not able to make a working one unless it comes from them.) -All of their children are women. No Bones has ever been a man. -They seem to have an extreme influence over all the goings-on in the country. Politics, Novus control, science, media, you name it, they’re there. Melissa Bones is currently in charge of their family operations, and her daughter Pamela is the up and coming heir. Characters: Rouge: -27 years old -Novus -Non-binary (they/them) -Very thin, brown hair (unless they dye it) usually in a sideshave or shaggily uneven, long face, tan skin, chipped front tooth, average height -Almost always wearing a patched up and shabby blue coat. -Anxious, self loathing, self-described as 'completely ordinary and boring’, sarcastic, artistic, tenacious -Was diagnosed a Novus at age 17 in a freak accident. They had never caused anything to happen before, and have done nothing unusual since. -Was rescued from a rehab center under equally bizarre circumstances by a childhood friend, and is a rare 'adult’ Novus. -Has a taste for the finer things in life, and likes to critique food and visual design -Loves outlandish fashion, but has no money for it -Is looking for someone dear to them who mysteriously went missing Valence: -Is that even her real name? -19 years old -Extremely powerful Novus. Perhaps the most powerful there ever was. -Can bend reality around her, create bursts of light and heat, move objects at a distance, alter the shape and material of things -Stocky and muscular, on the shorter side, round face, tan skin, black hair typically kept short -Prefers masculine clothing -Prone to anger, determined, stubborn, courageous, strong moral compass, black and white mentality, fiercely independent -Both of her parents are well known 'Zap Heads’. Her siblings are well known activists and researchers. While smart, she was more drawn to music, and felt trapped under the expectations placed on her by her family. -Was friends with several vigilantes and rogue freedom fighters who knew her family -Was taken at age 18 after snapping someone’s leg in half, and brought to a secret facility run by the Bones -Broke herself out and has been on the run since -Was in a shitty garage band. Plays bass. Loves comic books and underground music. Tariku: -14 years old -Novus with the ability to 'see’ into people’s inner selves and mess with their heads, plus a few other things I won’t mention here yet. -Dark skin, thick hair, short because he’s still young but will grow to be tall, on the thinner side -Prefers to dress crisply, usually opting for collared shirts -Wears a blindfold most of the time to prevent accidentally spying on people. (Also because he was taught that his ability is a sin, and he can’t turn it off…) -Thoughtful, cautious, strategic, quiet, prone to guilt, shows little emotion but feels things intensely, rarely shares what he’s thinking about, extremely curious but is often too afraid to explore or take risks -Never swears or uses contractions while speaking -Grew up in a facility with several other Novus with similar abilities who were being trained for a specific, mysterious, goal -Knew Pamela Bones -Decided to escape with Valence after an incident he is keeping a secret, for now -Is curious about 'normal’ things people his age do, but is so far underwhelmed by the reality of the outside world Corvid: -??? -This thing seems to show up randomly in Rouge’s room at night. Is it even real?  -It talks in garbled voices patched together  -Wears a raven mask. Who knows what it is or what it wants. Is it even human? Michael:  -A childhood friend of Rouges, then boyfriend -Tall, gangly, dark curly hair, freckles -A bit of a know-it-all, passionate about everything, pleasant and friendly, keeps things to himself, doesn’t like to share uncomfortable details of his life -Difficult family life, a lot left unsaid -Might be involved in really dark and shady things -Got kidnapped and who knows where he is now Proto: -Lives in the woods -Always wears a rabbit mask, even while they’re sleeping, like a weirdo -Supposedly a friend of Michael’s, but Rouge had never heard of them -A friend of Valence’s as well, and worked with her family -Vigilante, destructive Pamela Bones: -20 -Pale skin, freckles, bright red hair kept long, perfectly aligned teeth, green eyes, a bit on the shorter side, fit, curvy figure -She’s everywhere, it seems. An international icon -Sounds bubbly and friendly enough, but there’s something wrong with her voice, and her eyes, and her smile. It seems a bit uncanny, a bit... off somehow Read it here! ________________________ Tag list: @leonajasmin-writeblr @zburatorii

[queerofthedagger]

Can you please do 9 and 10 for regulus?💖

Of course, thank you for the ask, and sorry that it took me so long!

 9 - Humiliating memories

I think they changed a lot over the years, but let’s pick a few from his too-short life.

The time when they were still small, and he and Sirius played hide and seek at Grimmauld Place. He hid in a wardrobe, but the longer he stayed there, the more afraid he became of the ominous creaking sounds around him, and eventually he started crying. He didn’t want to leave either because he didn’t want to lose, and only hyperventilated more. It’s how his mother found him, and she gave a long speech about how useless of a Black he is if he cries because of a bit of darkness. (Sirius later snuck into his bed and from then on, always made sure that there was a sliver of light in Regulus’ room until he went to Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he was ashamed of that incident and his fear of darkness for a long time.)

All those times he didn’t stand up for Sirius when Walburga lost her temper left a bitter taste in his mouth and an uncomfortable, tight feeling in his chest. He hated that he’s not as courageous as his brother, hated that, while Sirius took the brunt for him so often, he always only bit his tongue and averted his eyes and agreed when Walburga addressed him directly. It took a long time until Sirius started to resent him for it, and even longer for him to voice that resentment, calling him soft and a coward, a pushover and, worst of all, ‘just like them,’ and he only stood there and couldn’t deny it because he actually kind of agreed.

The fact that he was a hat-stall. The hat wanted to put him into Ravenclaw, and he himself was conflicted on the issue even if he’d never admit it. He saw what happened to Sirius when he was sorted into Gryffindor and he desperately wanted to not have the same things happen to him because he was pretty sure that he couldn’t deal with that. At the same time, he was afraid of what Sirius would say if he was sorted into Slytherin and a part of him still wanted to be with his brother, even if he felt like he’d be a terrible match for Gryffindor. Eventually, he convinced the hat to put him into Slytherin, but it all took a while and neither his parents nor Bellatrix ever let him live it down.

That time in his 5th year when he lost Slytherin the Quidditch match because he couldn’t stop staring at James Potter over and over.

Every single memory he has that involved Voldemort – all that kneeling and grovelling is something he found deeply humiliating, it went against everything he grew up with, the mantra that the Blacks never prostrate themselves to anyone, the condescending manner Voldemort talks to him and most of all, that he’s still so fucking scared that all he could do was to try suppressing the tremble of his hands and hope that nobody could hear how painfully hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

When he eventually walked to his death, there was only one memory he’s still ashamed of: That it took him this long to finally admit that Sirius has been right and he has been wrong; that he let his disappointment and resentment for Sirius for replacing him, leaving him behind despite everything Regulus said to make him do it, drone out all his doubts. That he wanted to prove to himself that he wanted to stay, wanted to be the good son, wanted to be a Death Eater, because it was easier than to confront the fact that he gave up his own choice because he couldn’t bring himself to rebel the way Sirius did. But he would make up for it, here, alone, tonight, in a cave full of Inferi and a vile potion, and even if nobody ever found out about it, at least he wasn’t such a coward anymore.

10 - Fears, Phobias

As a child, he was afraid of the dark, courtesy to all the horrid stories Bellatrix told them and the little fact that Grimmauld Place hasn’t the nicest décor for children to grow up in.

When he got older, he became scared of his mother’s anger, having witnessed time and time again just how far she would go if her temper is tested.

That went hand in hand with his fear for Sirius who, no matter what, never kept his mouth shut and only made it worse for himself by taking the blame for Regulus as well, from time to time. Sirius never knew, but Regulus was aware that the only hope for his brother was leaving Grimmauld Place, no matter how much he personally hated it; also, regardless of Regulus being angry that Sirius replaced him so easily, a part of him still loved Sirius and one of the reasons he stayed was because he knew that their parents would let one of them get away, but not both. So Regulus played his role, he played it so well that he managed to convince himself that it’s what he wants, right until things got so horrible and real that he couldn’t deceive himself any longer.

After joining the Death Eaters, his fears boiled down to two things: Voldemort and raids. The former is rather self-explanatory, the second revolved more around the problem that Regulus was sick to his stomach after every single raid he had to attend, after witnessing what those people he had to call ‘colleagues’ got up to and how they revelled in it, the fear that someone would notice that he used spells as harmless as possible, and not a single one of the nights following his first raid has ever been free of nightmares, not one of his days free from self-loathing and guilt. In the end, he was only afraid of himself.

[dgcatanisiri]

So... I have had THOUGHTS swirling in my head, and, well, I need to word vomit some. This gets LONG. I apologize for the lack of a cut, but nowhere really seemed fitting during my writing.

If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s going around - an article about fandom hating on women. A very long, very researched article. And I absolutely do not dispute that core premise. I am not going to dismiss the work that the writer put into it. I am not standing here saying to dismiss it at all. And, hell, I DO feel a little uncomfortable, writing this massive response to it, being a man writing something that is directly responding to a female experience. Just... My brain would not let me focus unless I wrote this all down, and wrote out my feelings on the matter to a conclusion.

When I first saw it the other day, it sparked a rant of my own, because something about it didn’t sit right. Its focus is on how this hatred of women has gone after those who ship a certain ship, one I avoid calling by name for a very specific reason. That reason being I legit fear being bombarded by people who search the tags for that ship getting a ping of me commenting about it negatively and lashing out at me.

Now, I am not saying that I discount the article writer’s experience or research. Far from it. This is, much as I am loathe to use the term, something I am willing to say that, within the fandom, develops an element of “both sides” to it, where an incident with one side (those in favor of the ship) leads the other (those against it) to respond on the defensive, and back and forth and back and forth, intensifying in each volley, because one random stranger attacked another random stranger and made them hostile to a third random stranger saying things similar to the first, and so on down the chain. It’s like the game of Telephone, just played with tactical nukes.

But, the thing for me in that rant, is that there is a very blatant MISSING of the element of racism that fueled that ship that will not be named, of there being a significant element of the fandom around that ship transplanting the characteristics and even history of the character played by the black man onto the character played by the white man. Like, talk about sock puppet accounts fanning flames and all, but I’ve SEEN fics for this pairing that vilifies the black man and props up the white man. I have SEEN the massive metas that try to explain how the white man kidnapping this woman involved a bridal carry that expresses his true love for this woman he’s just met, interpreting and reinterpreting and pouring over the screentime they have, and only a fraction of it being spent on what seemed like, in the first appearance of these characters. I have SEEN the ignoring and transferring of character backstories repeatedly. Like... Those are a lot of work for it to be mostly the work of sock puppet accounts - A Tweet is easy. A 15000 word fanfic takes time and effort. A meta dive that rivals the length of this post takes time and effort. 

That’s been MY experience in seeing this ship. That’s why I’m being non-specific, because I’ve SEEN the hostility come in and I am taking the steps that I can to avoid that coming in to my inbox. And even when it’s not hostility... I’ve gone and explored the tag for the female character in this pairing. On those occasions, frequently content solely for her is drowned out by the content for the pairing, or about her influence on him. His tag does not have the same issue - there, it’s probably around half shipping content, half individual character content. What I see is that she is neglected by those who claim to see her as part of the pairing they love, and he gets glorified. 

That’s the sexism that I see. That’s where I see the hatred of women happening. On the part of those who claim to love this pairing, but that really seems to just mean that they love him and want to make her stand in emotionally for everything they want to give him. That those who are against the pairing, at the least, want to see that character in particular, her unique characterization and dynamics, in a relationship with someone who is going to treat her with compassion, consideration, and respect.

And, of course, there’s the issue of the fact that this pairing EXPLODED in popularity, while her relationship with another character, with a black man, was from pretty much day one minimized and reduced and ignored, and the damage reflected into the on-screen portrayal so that they never really had any character rebound from the imposed separation in the middle of this content, while strengthening the reduction of this female character to the white guy’s sexy lamp.

It’s not that I’m opposed to women in fandom or that I see something inherently wrong with whoever ships this pairing. It is that I have seen the blatant and thinly veiled racism implicit in the ways that these people go about shipping it, dismissing and denouncing the canon portrayal of an interracial relationship, to the point that when even the (notoriously tumultuous) production came back to write the stories that followed up on their initial appearance, that black man and his relationship with this white woman was downplayed and rendered “less important” to her connection and relationship with the white man - the white man who, in that first appearance, had kidnapped and tortured her, greatly wounded her friend, and killed her mentor. 

Like, I’m just saying, I do not see how one goes from that point to everlasting true love, but I CAN see how that leads to a deep abiding hatred. And yet, you know, nearly 16000 fics for it on AO3, while only about 10% of the other pairing. So, hey, I guess I’M wrong.

This is, again, to say nothing of the reductionary way many portrayals of this ship approach the female half - she loses her characterization in their portrayals to become a stand-in for the (predominantly) female writer/reader, whose love redeems the bad boy from the darkness in his soul. Her contribution, as a singular, unique character vanishes so that she becomes his reward for turning around, and she cheers him on, supporting him while never upstaging him.

It’s the Twilight phenomenon all over again. And I say that as a fact statement, not a value judgement, that this is the kind of thing that we saw within the reactions to Twilight, a vocal segment dismissed it entirely, and we saw a relationship be romanticized when you could actually use it as a bullet-point list of abusive behavior (I say this because it has been - there are plenty of articles using those characters as such). 

I mean, I can easily see this whole thing basically as being “well, the Twilight readers are now adults, let’s throw them a bone and “grow up” the characters for them” on some level. And... Actually, this is going to get off topic, let’s stick a pin in this and come back.

So, look, if this ship is your jam, fine, okay? I’m not making any individual value statements on the subject. You do you. I’m not shaming that act in and of itself, even if, as I’ve made very clear, it is very much NOT my thing. Likewise, I won’t discount that it was investors and shareholders, a notoriously conservative group, who got cold feet and basically wanted to excise the “risk” of an interracial relationship, as opposed to trying to “appease the fans” or something like that.

Like, I know I’m not immune to propaganda. I know I don’t look too deep when a random post crosses my dashboard and talks about this group of people behaving badly - because I’ve seen fandoms and productions be racist. I’m not trying to start a round of victimization Olympics here, but in this case, this is discussing an issue that is wrapped up in BOTH sexism and racism. And on the one hand, that certainly makes it all the easier for bad faith actors to kick up dust and turn people against one another.

BUT...

As important as it is to bring up these issues on their own, you CANNOT. DISENTANGLE. THEM. FROM. EACH OTHER. Like, there are patterns to fandom. You see this repeat itself in every fandom. Fandom at large latches on to a pairing, and shoves most others to the margins. And frequently, when the media in question centers on a character of color, THEY are shoved aside in order to prop up a pairing of white characters. Major canon characters who are not white become secondary - or tertiary - characters in terms of their fandom’s creative output. This happens frequently enough that to try and say “well, maybe the character is just not appealing to the fandom” is actively ignoring the issue.

And this often takes the form of shoving aside healthy relationships and solid, established friendships in the name of pairing up antagonistic characters, declaring the antagonism to be “sexual tension,” that the characters dislike each other not because... y’know, they dislike each other, but because they’re repressing a deep-seated desire to fuck, and THEN they’ll miraculously starting being nice to one another.

Like, this is NOT an isolated thing, you can look beyond the scope of this particular fandom and this pairing and see the pattern repeat itself across media. It is still the outlier when the main fandom pairing is an interracial M/F pairing. 

It’s not isolated. But it’s magnified given the massive size of this fandom in particular. This is a generational fandom, where parents - even grandparents - are sharing it with their children. And those biases we as an audience have reinforce themselves on subconscious levels, we don’t even acknowledge these things until we finally have it pointed out to us - and then we see it everywhere, because we have been blind to it, but it is all over our media, our fiction, baked into the very tropes we are using to assemble our stories.

Pull out that pin, we’re back. When something engages with multiple generations, when this is something you can look back on as a fond memory you shared with prior generations, with people you love, you will become protective of that thing. So when someone comes along and says “hey, [thing] has issues with [whatever],” a gut reaction is to get defensive, coil protectively around it. 

I mean, tell a millennial you don’t like The Lion King (original animated version, I mean), and you’re liable to get crucified. And it traces its lineage to (at a minimum) Shakespeare and probably further. So if, for example, you want to criticize it for, say, only have three female characters of note, none of whom actually interact, in opposition to the nearly three times as many male characters of note, you need to approach the subject with some delicacy (okay, maybe not the most fitting example, since this was part of the reason that the Broadway version made Rafiki a woman, so the issue Is Known, but it does get the point across, okay?).

And it’s the same when it comes to a subject like this particular fandom and media that isn’t just something many get hooked on in their childhood, but is also something that may be among the fond and cherished memories of family figures, some who may have passed on. To say “that thing you love is flawed” becomes a personal attack, not just on you for loving it, but also that beloved family member who brought it into your life.

And absolutely, this is not a rational reaction. It’s pure emotion. But we are emotional beings, and we need to acknowledge that emotions will make us respond and often respond quickly and respond poorly.

Here’s where I think the bigger issue lies if what you want to talk about is how fandom hates women - rather than look at it in the lens of “this ship is called abusive and racist,” go in the direction of “why is THIS ship the one that seems to resonate?”

Because this is the kind of ship that fandom, as a monolithic entity, often gravitates to - the dynamic that says that being enemies will inevitable lead to being lovers. 

Once again, I do not want to shame anyone for enjoying this dynamic. Lord knows my search history has instances of them. BUT... We don’t really know how to approach the dynamic. It is frequently reduced to “well, we made out, so now I’m gonna become the snarky asshole friend no one likes and we’ll bone.” 

Like in general, writing redemption arcs seems to be a hard thing for media, but it really seems to only work when the active narrative endpoint does not end in a major romance - when a romance becomes a major narrative element in said redemption arc, it frequently reduces the subject to “[character] was bad, now they’re in love, so they’re good!” No further work needs to be done.

And so when you have a character who is in need of redemption, it is a problem to just toss them at another character and have them make kissy faces. But that’s what you can sum up much of the concept of enemies to lovers in this fashion. The work isn’t done to show the earning of redemption, just declaring it attained because of another character’s love.

And I’m being intentionally non-specific with gender, because I do have a prominent example of this happening in a female/female fanon relationship in mind, which I am also avoiding mentioning in the name of discretion. So this isn’t solely a M/F phenomenon. This is a media thing, this is an “our understanding and approach to these dynamics and portrayals in media seems flawed and needs examination” thing. 

I mentioned Twilight above, and how that features a relationship that is used as an example of domestic abuse. Now, look, we can go back and forth about interpretation, the thing to acknowledge about it is that there are a great many who walked away from these books, their movie adaptations, and saw this particular interpretation. While you can probably take any relationship in any media and spin it in such a way, I think there is something to be said for the ensuing argument: When this is exposed to young people who are beginning to seek out romantic relationships, if their example for what love is, what love looks like, has a basis that, based solely on interpreting the text alone, the actions and words of the characters involved, the narrative text, the exploration of their thoughts, is unhealthy, is something that doesn’t need to have a word or action changed to be legitimately cited by experts within domestic abuse counseling as the warning signs... What does that say about our perceptions of what love even is?

And this isn’t getting back into the element of racism, either. Because we could go in that direction, where the black characters in fandom see this selective reinterpreting of their characters, turning what are gentle, caring, loving men into scary figures who loom ominously when they feel threatened, which starts to seem like all the time. There are a set of stock characterizations for black characters, for really any minority character, and the fandom will make them exhibit them in their interpretations, even if it does not fit anything established on screen.

There are a lot of threads that tie into the problems within this fandom and in the approach to this ship in particular. I feel like just pulling at one of them is doing so at the expense of the others, ones that run as deep if not deeper. And it seems like a disservice, both to the complexity of the issue and to anyone impacted by these matters, to only do that deep dive on the one. And, if you are not capable of doing it alone, which, I understand, this is a tall order, then I think it also is important to acknowledge this and actively seek out the alternate views and perspectives that aren’t just total opposition to you (meaning the references to the groups that sprung up in alt-right forums and such), but also those who are going to say “okay, maybe you’re right about x, but your statement on y are missing a lot of context you do not have from your position,” and seek the necessary education.

While I can appreciate the time and effort put into this article and the points it wants to make, it IS wrapped up in elements that run far deeper than any single ship, and just really seems to ignore the intersectional element of fandom at large, how fandom’s problem run deeper than just hating women. To talk about how fandom hates women, you are also needing to open the door to how fandom hates black people, hates people of color.

There is a hierarchy to this, and at best, you are missing a lot when you only focus on the top layer of the issue, rather than even acknowledging the deeper dive that inevitably comes from this. Like, it’s bad for a white woman, dealing with sexism. It’s worse for black women, dealing with sexism AND racism. It is something of a position of privilege to only examine the sexism in fandom, without exploring or acknowledging the racism.

Fandom’s hatred of women IS real. I am in no way disputing that. But I do not think that this is the best example to that point, because it becomes all too easy to dismiss the valid complaints and concerns with the trolls and bots and sock puppets found in the process that deserve legitimate consideration - this is one of the things I have been over when I have (oh god, I’m about to break the self-imposed rule and directly reference the media and characters in specific...) been over the problems I have with The Last Jedi. It’s not that I dislike Rose or Holdo, but I feel like they came into the narrative to teach Finn and Poe (both men of color) lessons that either comes at the expense of the previous’s movies arc for Finn or the previous movie’s characterization for Poe. It is not the characters themselves, it is the utilization within the narrative, using these women to impose a lesson on these characters. That, as I said above, Rey is reduced to a sexy lamp, there to try and bring back to the light a character she has no reason to ever even care about.

That was my experience with The Last Jedi - I had honest issues with the film that weren’t “women? In my Star Wars? Unpossible!” But the surrounding discourse CONSTANTLY felt so toxic to anyone who disagreed with the idea that it had been a win, that it was a bold new direction for the series, and that anyone who disagreed MUST be a sexist/racist/whatever who couldn’t take a changing face to the franchise. 

Hell, that may even be why I got this ultimate feeling of defensiveness, both in my opinion of TLJ and the ship in question (yeah, that one I’m still not acknowledging), because what I saw was a lot of really prominent voices not seeing the issues I did, and making it come across like the people who disagreed with them HAD TO BE the ones who were mad on the basis of characters like Rose and Holdo existing, or complaining about Leia’s Force use, or things like that. But... THOSE things weren’t my issues. But I couldn’t talk about those issues on any platform where there was regular engagement on the subject, considering the amount of explanation I would have to do.

Probably also explains some of my inherent response of trying to figure out how I feel about this article, too, come to think of it...

That was how things were after TLJ, and that’s when a lot of this push and pushback really started to gain traction as far as I can see. And maybe we could go and blame this on *ahem* bigger issues that were happening in 2017/2018 that proceeded to exacerbate matters. Like, we’re still in the midst of cleaning up the worst of all of what went on because of the time we live in, since things are still getting messier while we deal with prior fallout.

So... I honestly don’t know how to sum this up as a TL;DR. It was kind of a process for me to get to this point, and I don’t even know if I really have a conclusion. The best way I can go about summarizing is that I do not disagree with the article’s core idea. But I do not agree with its focus, while I understand that a portion of it, if nothing else, justifies why it is the focus. We are dealing with a very complex and complicated web of issues on this, and while I understand focusing on a single thread of that web, it feels like doing so also fails to acknowledge the various connected threads that wrap around that singular thread, in particular the racial elements, which, considering the profile image included, I do not believe this article was written by someone who is inherently aware of these aspects (while I’m also aware that, as a white person myself, I only have so much room to talk). This is all a very long way for me to go about saying “fandom has a lot of issues.”

[silverbackwolf14]

Hey sorry to bother but I would find it funny if q jr just Appear on the Enterprise and was messing about when he accidentally lets it slip about Picard and Q relationship. Love you write and it's only getting better.

        Aw, thank you! This one was difficult to write because I have not seen Voyager. I have, however, read the amazing book ‘I,Q’. (I highly recommend it, it’s amazing.) Anyway, when it comes to writing q Junior, I’m as awkward as Picard around children. I do however, hope you enjoy this. And to other anons I have not answered, I swear I’m getting around to it. Sorry.

—————————————————————————————————-

 The pattering of feet was unnatural to the young Q who explored the vast hallways of the starship Enterprise. He seldom spent time in a materialistic form, so the experience was strange to him. His powers had not yet fully developed, and he was very proud of himself for making it to the Enterprise without help. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be aboard without permission, but the temptation of exploration had thrown all caution out the window.

q Junior had always been the curious type. He simply wanted to know what the other Q knew. But humans were special. Not even the Q knew everything about them, or rather, they didn’t understand them. q wanted to explore the humans that captivated his father so completely.

He had already met Captain Jean-luc Picard; his father’s human mate. He had seemed nice, but a little awkward around him he had noticed. q giggled as he remembered how flustered they’d both been when Commander Riker had showed up at the door. q really didn’t understand why they tried so hard to keep it a secret from Picard’s crew. Was the Captain ashamed of his father? He hoped not, q didn’t think his father would like that very much.

q continued his adventure through the hall until he came to an area with large windows. He stopped a moment to admire the shimmering nebulae outside. He loved the beauty of space, for it often reminded him of home. He gazed at the greens and purples all blending into the inky black vacuum of space. So vast, so lonely. He understood why his father was so desperate to be with the Captain. His father loved the Captain, and this love banished the loneliness of eternal existence. He also knew that his father loved him. A lot. His father didn’t love his mother, nor did his mother love his father, but they got along. Most importantly, they both loved him. q smiled at the thought. His smile grew wider knowing that his mother approved of his father’s relationship with the Captain.

Voices and approaching footsteps startled the young q’s train of thought. Coming around the corner of the corridor was most of the senior staff. Amongst the small crowd the young q recognized many faces. There was the dark haired first officer, the yellow eyed android, the red headed doctor, the blind engineer, and the half-betazed counselor.

“-So when the new engineer started I thought he was just going to be another big shot who thought they knew everything but nothing could have prepared me for-” The first officer’s words were cut off when he caught a glimpse of q. The bearded man crouched down to q’s level. “Hey there buddy, where are your parents at?”

The boy looked up at Riker with a suspicious gleam in his dark eyes. Riker looked back to the others questioningly, unsure of what to do next.

Just as Riker was about to open his mouth, q replied quietly: “My mother is out there.” He pointed out to the stars.

Now the counselor took a step towards him. “Is she on another starship?” Her dark chocolate eyes seemed to be filled with warmth and compassion. q found he rather didn’t care for being looked at like that. As if he were some poor child who had lost everything. He shook his head and hoped that they would leave him be.

The crew once more looked at each other with growing concern. A young boy like this shouldn’t be out alone on a starship. “Where is your father then?” Troi asked, still using that gentle tone.

q was becoming very annoyed at this point. All he wanted to do was continue his exploration of the ship. “How should I know? It’s not my job to keep track of him. He’s probably kissing your Captain or some-” The young Q quickly caught his mistake and promptly closed his mouth. The crew gawked at him open mouthed and q could practically see their minds imploding upon themselves.

To add upon their bewilderment a sudden flash of white light, the signature flash of a well known omnipotent being. Q quickly flashed in next to the young boy, covered his child’s mouth with his hand, gave and embarrassed smile, and flashed out.

They all looked at each other for a moment in awe, then bolted to the captain’s ready room. The rest of the group was fast, but Riker, powered by undeniable rage, was faster. Riker burst into the ready room with the rest of the group right behind. “Q????!!!!! REALLY???!!!! OF ALL THE PEOPLE IN THIS UNIVERSE, Q????!!!!!!”

Picard stiffened and became visibly uncomfortable. He tried to listen but his mind was racing. How did they know? How did they know? How did they- “Captain,” Deanna began calmly. “We all are happy for you-”

“HAPPY? DEANNA THIS IS-” Riker was quickly cut off by the counselor.

Deanna continued in a somewhat more irritated tone. “We’re all happy that you’ve found someone, but we all wish we had been aware of your relationship with Q. We understand your need for privacy, but due to the subject of your secrecy we just wish-”

“I understand Counselor and I’m very sorry that you didn’t hear about it directly from me. If you don’t mind my asking, how did you find out?” The crew all looked at one another.

Beverly was the first to step forward. “Jean-luc, are…are you aware that Q has a child?” The crew held their breath. None of them knew about Q’s child before the encounter, and it would be just like Q to hide something like that. They also knew that the Captain wasn’t entirely comfortable around children.

“Ah, you must mean Junior. Yes I am fully aware of Q’s offspring. He’s a fine boy.” Picard gave a small smile at the thought of q. Meeting him had been an… Interesting experience, no doubt about that.

Then all of the crew (save Riker of course) eased a bit.

“Captain, if I am not invading your privacy of course, may I inquire as to how long you and Q have been in a romantic relationship?” Data paused a moment. “You are in a relationship of romantic nature with Q, correct Captain?”

Picard nodded his head in affirmation. “We’ve been seeing each other romantically for about a year now.”

“Captain,” Deanna started “Why did you keep it a secret for that long?”

Picard thought as to his answer a moment before replying: “I suppose I was afraid you all would have stopped trusting me or would begin to question my judgement.” He looked to the ground, ashamed of his thoughts.

“Jean-luc, we would never think less of you.” Beverly whispered, embracing Picard in a tight hug.

After everything had been explained, Picard went to his quarters, tired and emotionally drained. When he entered his quarters he was surprised to find Q sitting in his chair with Junior in his arms. q’s face was hidden in his father’s chest. Picard gave a small smile and walked over to his lover and his son. Picard gave his lover a quick kiss, then turned his attention to the problem at hand.

“Hello Junior.” He said softly. God why was he so awkward around the child?

q tensed up and shook slightly. Picard sighed, trying to find the best way of going about this.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Picard waited a bit for an answer and just when he was about to give up and ask again, Junior let out something of a sob.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. They kept asking me all these questions and I just wanted to be left alone.” q continued his light sobbing for a few minutes while Q held him, attempting to calm his frightened child.

“Junior, it’s alright. I’m not angry… In a way I’m almost grateful.” Picard said, resisting the small urge to put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder.

q lifted his head from Q’s chest to look at Picard. “You’re not mad?” He sniffled.

Picard gave a small smile. “No, I’m not mad. I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell my crew, but it would appear that you’ve taken care of that for me.”

q wiped away another stray tear. “Really?”

“Really.”

It was then that a bright, white flash appeared at the opposite end of the room. In place of the flash stood a tall woman with red hair. “Well it seems we got that cleared up. q, did you learn your lesson?” The small boy nodded solemnly. The woman smiled. “Then I think it’s time we returned to the continuum.”

Junior looked up at Q, telepathically questioning if it was really time to go. Q kissed his forehead and the boy slipped out of his arms, and went over to his mother. Picard watched all of this in silence, knowing it was not his place. When it came to q and his mother, Picard often felt he had no business being Q’s mate at all. The boy was picked up by his mother and given a kiss on the cheek. Picard was about to turn away and go about his business, when Junior looked at him, smiled, then waved goodbye before flashing out with his mother.

Once they had gone, Picard gave a rather deep sigh of relief and headed over to the replicator. Every visit from Junior gave him a feeling of despair and self loathing. He was absolutely certain that Junior resented him. Who wouldn’t? He was probably the only thing keeping Q, from q’s mother.

It was then, in the darkest part of his thought process, that he felt a warm body against him, and long arms wrapped around him. “Q?” The Captain felt his semi-omnipotent lover smile into his neck.

“Junior really likes you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

[palamig]

So in honor of the Fruits Basket reboot who would you say are your fave Furuba characters and ships (canon) and why? Least fave Furuba characters and canon ships and why?

Hello! Thank you for this ask, anon!

I honestly don’t want to play favorites because I love literally all of them. Except who am I kidding. I’ve been a hoe for Kyo since I was like 10. It’s been 14 years later and I’m still a hoe for Kyo. *Facepalm*

But no seriously. I love Kyo. He’s the character I can kind of relate to the most, the second being Tohru. Kyo is filled with a lot of self-loathing, the origins of which can be traced from a very nasty, abusive childhood (disclaimer alert, I didn’t have a nasty abusive childhood but I have experienced my own struggles with acceptance). Children grow from the kind of environment they’re born to and the way they’re treated. I love kids and that’s why ಥ Ĺ̯ ಥ Kyo’s flashbacks really killed me. 

Kyo is a good kitty. When Haru got lost going back from the bathroom in elementary school, Kyo fuckin held his hand and led him back to the classroom because he is a good fuckin kitty. Kyo wanted acceptance, and maybe love and affection too. But he was treated like shit. Because he was treated like shit, he thought of himself so lowly Tohru’s sincerity at wanting to be his friend surprised and probably freaked the fuck out of him. I’m kind of like that too. People with zero self-esteem will struggle with every compliment, every form of affection or attention throw their way. I still do. And Kyo does too. He’s a tsundere within reason lol. A lot of people have said this in other posts scattered on Tumblr, but Kyo struggles with accepting Tohru’s gestures because no one has ever been genuine to him before except for Kazuma (and Kyoko).

And that’s why Kyoru is my ultimate favorite ship. Kyo is like an angry storm, and Tohru is the mountain that knows how to withstand it, waiting patiently until the sun peeks back out from the grey clouds. Tohru doesn’t change Kyo, and Kyo doesn’t change for Tohru. Kyo changes because of her. These nuances are important because they show us the nature of Kyo and Tohru’s relationship. 

Tohru is not a girl who jumps into people’s lives and fixes them. (Although spoiler alert, at the latter part of the manga, she actively tries to fix Kyo’s curse). People fix themselves because of her. Yuki explains this well when he realizes how he really feels about her. Tohru was like a springboard that helped him start building a normal life. Tohru is inherently kind. Before anything else, I’d like to say that Tohru’s kindness is not a fault of crappy, unrealistic writing. Tohrus exist in this world too. People who aren’t judgmental, people who are forgiving of all your faults, people who sacrifice themselves for the ones they love without protest, people who are genuinely kind and accepting. My best friend is a Tohru and I will Die for her.

Kyo did not change for Tohru. He changed not just for Tohru, but for himself too. I think that’s important to point out. When you change for someone, it means you want them to like you. But the change that happens in Kyo is much deeper than just for the purpose of Tohru liking him back. He healed himself for himself and for her. Towards the latter part of the manga, when he was already attempting to get his life back on track before pursuing her again, we can argue that he did try to get his shit together for her. But the Kyo at this point in the manga has already drastically changed from the Angsty Teen we saw at the beginning. He’s a better version of himself by now–a person who has come to terms with who he is, even though there are still people unable to move on. Sometimes you can’t always change the way people think about you, but what you can change is the way you look at yourself.

And that’s why I say Kyo changed because of her. Her unconditional love and kindness let him forgive himself just a little. She helped him realize what he was and what he wasn’t. And like what Yuki said, maybe all we need is to just know that there’s one person out there who can accept us for who we are. That is Tohru to Kyo. Tohru is one of the very few handful of people who treated Kyo like a human being, who made him feel that being the cat wasn’t a sin. 

At the same time, Kyo is GOOD for Tohru. The fault of being a “giving” person is that you give so much to others you forget to leave some for yourself. All Tohru knew is how to service other people’s needs. She cooks and cleans at home. She prefers doing things for other people. For instance, whenever she visits shishou, she usually ends up doing all the work, even though she’s a visitor. This isn’t a problem. There are people who derive happiness from servicing others. But I guess this affected the way she thought about herself. Because she prefers tending to others, it feels weird when it’s her turn to be taken care of. When she failed the test Yuki tutored her for, she took it so badly she ended up crying and getting sick. She hates being a burden to others. And that’s why she masks her sadness in fake happiness, like when Hiro had made that comment about her mother at the vacation house.

At this point, Kyo is Officially Attached to Tohru. He thinks about Tohru’s wellbeing probably all the time, because hey this is the person who still loves me even after I kind of treated her badly during the first few parts of the manga and even after the whole crazy chapter 33 ordeal. She’s precious to me and I want her to never be sad and always be happy. And that’s why he notices. He notices All Of It. All her little habits, the changes in her expressions, whenever she feels sad or uncomfortable. Whenever something is bothering her. Whenever there’s something she needs. Whenever she’s not there. There are so many instances of this scattered all over the manga so it’s hard to cite examples. (Honestly I’m 100% Kyo because I don’t usually trust people and when people gain my trust I turn from bitch who the fuck- to Bitch your happiness is my number 1 priority). Kyo wants to take care of her.He wants to be that shoulder she can cry on because he loves her and he wants her to be happy. He will do anything for her and will let her do anything to him, i.e. hit him in the face with her bag lol, if it would make her feel better. Talking to and simply being Kyo also makes Tohru super happy. She forgets what she’s sad about whenever she’s with him. Like dam. I love this ship fuck

And that, kids, ends my TED talk about why I’m a hoe for Kyo and Kyoru. 

As for least favorite characters. It goes without saying that Kyo’s father can buRN IN HELL BITCH 

But in all seriousness, I try not to have, like, a “least favorite.” So I hope you don’t mind if I refrain from answering that latter question ᕦ( ͡͡~͜ʖ ͡° )ᕤ

[blackjacketmuses]

hc; sparda 1

HISTORY

Sparda’s demon species is insectlike, and lays their young in dead large demons --- thousands of eggs at a time. These eggs hatch, and the young eat their way out of the corpse before beginning to cannibalize one another. The survivors of this feeding frenzy  find a dark and wet place to hide alone and enter a chrysalis state, in which they remain for a century before hatching properly as their fully grown selves.

Sparda is small for his species, only 9 feet or so tall, but he was one of the survivors of his brood. He, like all of them, chose his own name, and followed his own instinct to become stronger and gain more power. That is how his species lives, a constant quest for more, to gather power and continue evolving, until they reach their truest form and pinnacle and their mutable and ever changing form settles into a permanent one.

Sparda did this, eventually joining another power-hungry demon named Mundus as he amassed an army --- he had not the taste for conquest as the other man, only seeking power, but all the same, the two fought side by side for a long time.

It was only when Mundus declared his intent to attack the human world and subjugate it, just before Sparda would take his final form, that the young demon (only five hundred years post chrysalis, unlike Mundus’ nine hundred) took pause. He was a demon, but he had honor, and fighting and destroying those that were so helpless and weak didn’t sit right with him. Curious as to why Mundus wanted them under his thumb, he slipped through a rift in the human world and took a human guise, walking among them for a time to watch and investigate. He found these humans...fascinating, not at all like demons, with a capability for a great many things he had never seen in the Underworld, long and compassion and selflessness. He found...he didn’t want them to be subjugated, destroyed by Mundus’ hand. So he stood up to his former friend, and thus began a war.

Sparda never intended to start a war, or become the leader of an army, or fall into legend--- he wasn’t even fighting for truly selfless reasons. He simply liked humans, and didn’t think it right they be crushed under the heel of stronger beings just because. They were interesting, and he wanted them to survive, to see what they could become. He didn’t really feel like this was commendable, and yet others did. Humans began to worship and admire him, and he took it in bewildered stride--- though he didn’t really act upon any of this, simply moving to fight for their sake, finding he...liked the praise and kind words, things no demon ever was given.

He also gathered demons to him, demons that were outcasts and unsure of their place, weaker demons and nes that liked humanity or simply didn’t like Mundus, or liked him. They fought beside him, and...found themselves emulating humanity, forming true bonds as friends rather than as fellow soldiers or as subordinate and master.

In the end, after sealing Mundus away into the lowest level of the Underworld, Sparda sealed the human and demon worlds with the help of a human priestess giving her life --- once close and connected, though separate --- closing the pathways save for occasional rifts or gates. He and his most loyal men stayed on the human side, just in case, and they gave themselves to him as Devil Arms to supplement the power he had lost in using his own souls’ blade to lock the tower gate behind him.

Secreting away the jewel that formed the lock on this side, Sparda vanished into legend. He had no use in seeking more power, now that he was at his height and could not gain more, as he was using that power as a seal --- so he simply faded into the background, taking a human guise and watching as humanity grew and evolved.

Over the years, he reluctantly (at first) found himself defending humanity again and again from other demons that came through rifts and gates, killing some and subjugating others. As the centuries passed he grew to enjoy this, partially out of spite at how much his own people loathed him now, and partially out of a genuine enjoyment of the fight that nothing else could give him.

He met and befriended many humans over the centuries, but never grew close; he felt apart from humans, given that he was a demon, and they were not equals to him. He didn’t look down on them, no, but he saw them as weaker and fragile, sweet and fascinating but in need of protection. He stayed apart from them, though cultivating a human identity (many, over the years) to be able to have money and property and interact with humans if needed. But he stayed aloof, stayed distant, every so often befriending a human or two for a time, occasionally coming back to check on their descendants.

At some point, for a hundred years’ time, he lived and ruled on Fortuna as a sort of lord and guardian to the people there. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him, really, as there was a huge Hellgate there he ended up having to sea properly and protect the people from, but it was only much later he learned that the people of the city had adopted him as a legitimate god. This made him uncomfortable, and he avoided the place after that.

One stop he made regularly was at the island of Vie de Marli, where some of the descendants of the priestess and her order had settled along with other outcasts and people branded heretics --- he aided them again, sealing away a demon lord named Argosax, and all but adopted them afterwards as a sort of guardian. They were the closest to true human friends he had, though he was still distant --- something that his closest friend here, a half-demon named Ester that everyone called Matier, constantly harassed him about. She thought he needed to let himself see humans as equals, to truly live among them as one of them --- he was holding himself still in limbo, not existing in either world, and he needed to hurry up and accept his new home, something he had yet to truly do.

He could not find it in himself to do so for the longest time, unable to find a reason to connect with humanity, make that final step into accepting this world as his own. He was its guardian, a demon protecting the ephemeral and endlessly fascinating humans, but he wasn’t and could never be one of them. Humanity just wasn’t something he could be part of, experience. (This was an argument made in true self-unaware fashion, as humanity had long begun to rub off on him and make him a very unique demon indeed in small ways.)

However, in the year 1965, Sparda ran into a hotheaded and brave young witch named Eva Maylis, who helped protect her city from demons as did the rest of her family. Her courage and ferocity and compassion drew him in almost immediately, though it took a few months of mishaps and shenanigans (and Eva setting him on fire once) for them to be able to get to know each other. Eva was the first human who made Sparda feel...feel different, than he did about humans, the first one that truly reached out and tried to understand how he felt and why, who tried to bridge the gap he felt and who loved him as the flawed and imperfect being he was rather than the legendary knight most saw. Eva was very different, and he found himself falling in love with her as well, the first human he ever felt that way for.

Eva’s presence in his life slowly drew him into the human world properly, and he settled on the name/alias that he would go by from then on --- Aaron Iskandar. (Count Iskandar, as some human or other had given him the title at some point and it and what came with it stuck.) He and Eva bought a house in Red Grave City, Michigan, and married (a very small and private ceremony on Vie de Marli, at Matier’s insistence, and officiated by the woman herself), and began to build a true life for themselves, for Sparda, finally being a part of the world he’d protected and truly grown to love for so long. It was strange, at first, having to actually navigate the human world for once, after choosing to accept fully his life here, but he grew to love it just as much.

In 1977, Eva gave birth to twin boys, and Sparda adored them. His sons were now the most important things in his life besides his wife, and he knew they would be special. He had never had a family before, being a demon, and at first had no idea how to handle small squishy infants, but the concept of having a family, a real human family, was overwhelming. He knew, though, that if they were ever discovered it would be dangerous, with them so young, and began to come up with ways to protect them.

Knowing doing so was only weakening him further, he used his power to create two blades --- Yamato and Rebellion --- just for the boys. Their initial forms were basic, but he knew that as they grew, their nature as demons would shape and evolve them as they gained power. However, their base powers would remain the same, only grow stronger: Yamato was a sword of separation, and Rebellion a sword of binding together. He also took the jewel that was the key to Temen-ni-Gru (something that he’d long worn on his person as an amulet) and broke it in two, knowing it would protect them and keep them safe and help stem their power until it was ready to be awakened in full. He kept it on him, though, intending to give it to them when they were older and their blood first began to stir.

Sparda doted on his boys, teaching them swordplay with wooden toys and telling them stories of his own adventures --- cloaking them as fairy tales --- to prepare them for the day he’d have to tell them the truth. But until then, he and Eva raised them as humans. Well, humans with incredible powers of regeneration and some demonic behaviors.

His Devil Arms doted on the boys as well, most of them able to take human forms as their father’s “business associates”, but a few --- Stolas, Camio, Sitri, and Othrus --- taking animal forms and hanging around the children as ‘pets’ or, in poor Stolas’s case, Dante’s beloved “toy” owl.

However, in 1985, Sparda got word of the seal upon Mundus himself weakening, and without thinking, he gathered his Devil Arms and guns and took off, ready to fight and heedless of his weakened state --- he, still proud and arrogant, thought he could handle it himself, and protect his family. He left the dual amulets with Eva, then, his only failsafe, and took off. It was a trap, in the end and he was soundly defeated by Mundus, dragged off and imprisoned himself in the bowels of hell along with his Arms.

Sparda was tortured by the witch Malphas --- one of Mundus’s right hands --- for two years, and she eventually was able to tear from his mind the location of his human family. This is how Mundus found them. After this, he was dragged into Mundus’ throne room --- as the demon king was greatly weakened and sealed in the lowest level, but not dead or dormant --- and displayed as a prisoner, the traitor and soft and weak dark knight, chained up and displayed publicly so that any of Mundus’s men could torment and torture and abuse him as they liked.

However, this was changed some ten or eleven years later, when one of his sons was defeated and captured by Mundus. Sparda was able to sense Vergil’s torture and broke free, killing many demons in an attempt to save his son, but was caught and beaten down and sealed away again, this time in the block of ice behind Mundus’ throne, half-dead, unaware, and unconscious. There he remains, a trophy of the demon king even after his defeat by the younger of the two sons of Sparda.

[thevillagehidden-inthevoid]

Character Development Questions: Hard Mode(Credit to: @i-see-light-blog )

Q: Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

*A: Yes to family members, just Itachi is all I can think of because he plays a very important role in Hitomi's life. They have been close since they're birth.

Q: What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

*A: With her she has a very strong bond, she was sorta a stay at home mom. With the occatilnal baby sit with Uncle Jaraiya, Uncle Orochimaru, and Aunt Tsunade.

As for her father, he is non existent since he became a rogue ninja shortly after Hitomi was born.

Q: Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them?

*A: later on in life yes, they entered a war at the young age 18, they kinda weren't the same after that.

Q: If so, does anyone else know?

*A: everyone can see the personality change in her, but they don't know how deep the damage goes.

Q: On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

*A: Younger, she would use scrolls to carry stuff like weapons, but usually would have brushes and paper on hand for drawing/writing.

When she got older though, around 15-18, you would find similar things just expanded on. So training scrolls, practice weapons, drawing utensils, Somme 'special' type books, and bandages.

Q: Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

*A: Being home on the back porch, they're sitting their with someone, drinking tea in silence. It's peaceful, silent, the only thing she can hear is the light sound of dripping water. When she notices it and turns to ask the person next to her if they hear it, she wakes up immediatly. She still doesnt know what it means.

Q: Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

*A: Yes, shes on a batle field fighting what seems like an endless wave of enemies, trying to protect whats most precious for her and all that shes worked for. By the end though she gets stabbed in the back by an unknown person and wakes up.

Q: Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

*A: for most around her, it's change drastically. While for some(cough*elders*cough) it has remained the same.

Q: Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

*A: Less clothing/PJs when they're alone. More clothing when they're in public.

Q:In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

*A: On the battlefield when they were one of the last soldiers standing, then rest of their platoon had died or retreated, they were protecting Mirai who had joined her on the field for a mission but got hit. She didn't know if her sister was dead or not, but she wasn't gonna leave her there.

Q: In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

*A: Prisoner of war for about a year.

Q: Is your character bothered by the sight of blood?

*A: Not really.

Q: Does your character remember names or faces easier?

*A: Faces.

Q: Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession?

*A: Material I guess? A lot of gifts given to her were very special ones from Jiraiya, Tsuna, Orochimaru, and her Mother.

Q: Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

*A: Happiness, because you can't succeed without it(and hard work.)

Q: What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

*A: A paint brush and ink from Jiraiya(to bring out her creativity and not be bored,) a board game from Orochimaru(to keep her mind together and actively thinking,) and a card deck from Tsunade(She would teach her to gamble with it.)

Q: Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

*A: Both? They kinda admire any unique quality about a person. They also understand how hard it is to become efficient/consistent in both.

Q: What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw?

*A: Not being open about their feelings for others and certain situations about them.

Q:Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

*A: Yes, but overall it's mostly just kept relationships/friendships from going further.

Q: In what ways does your character compare themselves to others?

*A: Beauty and strength wise, because for a long time she struggled to be those things.

Q: Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

*A: It's more of just self loathing and past experiences.

Q: If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

*A: They blame themselves 80% percent of the time. Especially if they thought they had any amount of control in the situation.

Q: What does your character like to other people?

*A: She's has a bright aura to her, kinda a turn off to traditional Uchiha's, but a welcoming person to the Senju. Ambitious and hard working over all.

Q: What does your character dislike in other people?

*A: Prejudice or unreasonable disbelief in others for no reason.

Q: How quick is your character to trust someone else?

*A: Instantly, always make friends on every side.

Q: How quick is your character to suspect someone else?

*A: Instantly, always gotta be on your toes, everyone has a motive.

Q: Does this change if they are close with that person?

*A: Yes, if the person doesn't give any more reason to trust they will always suspect them of something, or keep them in the suspect box if something goes wrong. If the person makes an effort to find and gain trust with them, then they're relationship will flourish.

Q: How does your character behave around children?

*A: They get really happy and gushy around babies and little kids. With older kids they're more chill or kinda awkward.

Q: How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

*A: Calmly and stone faced, but if they can avoid it they will.

Q: How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

*A: Depends how big of a push you give them, or which one of they're loved ones you push first.

Q: What did your character dream of being or doing as a child?

*A: A powerful Ninja and Uchiha Clan Leader.

Q: Did that dream come true?

*A: Spoilers...

Q: What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

*A: Hospital medicine, and unwanted attention.

Q: Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

*A: A familiar place, hanging out with friends or alone. Drinking or having a meal.

Q: Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

*A: Unfamiliar place, no one familiar around.

Q: In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

*A: Willing to improve if they trust the person.

Q: Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

*A: Immediately move on and try something different.

Q: How does your character behave around people they like?

*A: Bubbly, open, talking about life and deep conversation.

Q: How does your character behave around people they dislike?

*A: they're nice to them, but subtle body language will change.

Q: Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

*A: Both since they go hand in hand.

Q: Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

*A: if it seems like problems that will still effect the surrounding people/area, even if they leave. They will remove it.

Q: How does your character treat people in service jobs?

*A: Kindly.

Q: Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

*A: They must earn it.

Q: Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

*A: Yes, Jiraiya, Tsunade, Their older sister.

Q: Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

*A: to their knowledge they're not sure, but if I had to really sift through, I'd say Sasuke 75%(like an older sister or second mother,) with Naruto mostly like that cool mom that lets you learn from your mistakes by making them, and with Sakura more of a sisterly vibe.

Q: How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

*A: if your death would greatly affect them, they can say I love you as easy as pie. It's very hard though to say it seriously with romantic meaning.

Q: What does your character believe will happen to them after they die?

*A: they're not 100% sure, they just hope to their loved ones again(or get reincarnated.)

Q: Does this belief scare them?

*A: The thought of leaving their family behind? Yes?