#putting such an effort to spread hate is really sad though genuinely

[litelcreacher]

been getting some Basil and Sunnflower antis in my fyp which is weird. Where are these coming from.

Anyways, i'm now 200% more motivated to get better at drawing so i can finally draw Sunnflower being silly

[aphrostarot]

Confronting Past Life Pick a Pile

What wounds do you carry from a past life and how can you begin to mend your soul?

Please remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Don't force it to fit. I offer paid readings on my page if you would like a personal reading. Prices are listed there. Please message me or email me if you are interested!

Pile One (Sodalite):

Who were you in a relevant past life?

Queen of Pentacles:

You were a very sensual and loving person in a past life. Over the course of your life, you were an extremely hard worker and accumulated great success. Having enough money enabled you to surround yourself with the things you loved, including nature and animals. The people in your life knew they could count on you to help them when they needed it, especially when it came to financial support.

What is something unresolved from that life?

Three of Pentacles:

In this lifetime you may have been a celebrity, and as a result of your success, you were the subject of jealousy from many people. These people tried spreading lies about the way you earned your success. Since they wanted what you had and saw how humble you were, they hated you for it, so they made up rumors about you as a result. You really tried to spread love rather than hate, especially when it came to these people. You thought you could teach people to be nice and not to be hateful. You tried to achieve this with all your might, but it was not possible, unfortunately.

You may have been an earth sign, Virgo, Taurus, or Capricorn, in your past life or in this life.

You could also have an Aquarius North Node.

How does it affect you in this life?

Five of Pentacles:

You really struggle in this lifetime to accumulate success and wealth. Despite your efforts, you still struggle to make enough money to support yourself and those you love. Success does not come as easily to you in this lifetime.

Why do you need to complete that unresolved issue?

Strength:

With your current struggles, you also have trouble having the strength to deal with the issues. You are capable of getting through the difficulties you are facing, but you lack the confidence in yourself to do so. This issue of a lack of confidence must be resolved so that you can channel your inner strength to begin accumulating more wealth and success.

How can you complete that unresolved issue?

Justice:

For some, you may feel you need to cheat the system to get what you desire. The appearance of this card alerts you to the fact that you shouldn't go forward with that. To resolve the issues you are facing, you need to be fair. In addition, you should not second-guess your success. To me, it feels as though all the negativity you couldn't overcome in the past life is affecting you now, making you feel unworthy of success, or incapable of being successful. Do not fall into the trap of not believing in yourself. It is essential that you let go of your fears if you are to overcome these challenges.

What is an important lesson you need to fully understand?

King of Wands:

The lack of confidence prevents you from pursuing your desires, and as a consequence, you lack the drive and passion to do so. The lesson you need to learn is that you need passion and drive to succeed. Your success in your past life was easy and you didn't have to work hard for it, but in this lifetime you must learn to work hard for what you want.

What is an energy/characteristic that you should channel from that life?

The Devil:

In your current life, you need to tap into the strong-willed nature you had in your past life. You never let anything bring you down in the past and you struggle to do this in this current life. Your strong-willed nature will help you overcome your struggles of accumulating success and allow you to become confident in yourself.

Channeled Messages from Guides:

“You are our answered prayer.”

“Magic exists in the form of energy. What is your energy creating today? How does it make you feel?”

Letters:

R

X

I

E

Q

Blank - whatever you feel fits.

Pile Two (Green Aventurine Moon):

Who were you in a relevant past life?

Seven of Wands:

You were very altruistic in this past life. Fighting against oppression. You stood your ground and were an ally to people who needed someone on their side. You were very courageous and determined in your convictions. It seems to me that you took part in many protests. Perhaps you formed groups that fought for people who were being mistreated.

What is something unresolved from that life?

Ten of Wands:

In your past life, you worked very hard to achieve your goal, but it seems like you never succeeded. Your hard work did not pay off in that lifetime. Many of you may have given up when nothing seemed to be happening and your work was ineffective.

How does it affect you in this life?

King of Wands:

There was so much passion in that past life, but all your hard work didn't pay off. Therefore, in this lifetime, you carry that sadness of not achieving what you set your heart on. Since your soul still hasn't healed from your past wounds, you lack the passion to pursue your desires. This wound also leaves you lacking confidence in pursuing your goals.

It's possible that you were a Fire sign in that life or this life, Aries, Leo, or Sagittarius.

Why do you need to complete that unresolved issue?

Ten of Swords:

This soul wound is causing a great deal of destruction in your life. You lack the confidence and passion to pursue your desires, and this affects all areas of your life, including romance, career, school, and health. It seems that every time you try to follow your dreams, you self-sabotage, and things crumble around you, leaving you wondering why you did that. This is your soul wound that still needs to be healed.

How can you complete that unresolved issue?

Knight of Wands:

Find your passion and enthusiasm in this life. Seek out activities that bring out your more enthusiastic side. Bring passion back into your life by discovering new things.

Six of Cups:

Additionally, you could try doing things you were passionate about in your past life. Maybe you should join a group that works to combat oppression. Make your voice heard and stand up for what you believe in.

What is an important lesson you need to fully understand?

The Magician:

Willpower is the key to The Magician's success. They set their intentions and then follow through on them. This is your lesson for this lifetime. You need to start setting and achieving goals. Do not give up like you did in the past.

What is an energy/characteristic that you should channel from that life?

King of Pentacles:

It is the King of Pentacles who pursues their goals until the very end. They do not worry about losing out on anything, as they are very confident and secure within themselves. This is how you were in the past, and this is what you need to channel in this life in order to heal.

Channeled Messages from Guides:

“Take charge of your schedule during this busy time and honestly assess your underlying reasons for being busy.”

“Times of heightened emotions and sensitivity call for extra self-care and gentleness.”

Letters:

I

I

A

K

V

E

Pile Three (Rose Quartz):

Who were you in a relevant past life?

The Devil (reversed):

In a past life, you struggled with addictions, and most of your life was devoted to freeing yourself from those addictions. For most of your life, you were becoming self-aware, understanding your purpose and how you can be healthy.

The Moon (reversed):

You felt pretty unhappy in your past life too, feeling very anxious. It was this that pushed you to break free from addictions and fears, along with your negativity.

What is something unresolved from that life?

The World (reversed):

In your pursuit to be free of these things, it seems that you didn't fully succeed. Though you were successful in letting go of those addictions and fears, you still struggled to feel complete and happy. The whole focus of your life seemed to be on becoming healthy, and once you reached your goal, you didn't know what to do with your life. You had no clue what your passions were, and what made you happy.

How does it affect you in this life?

Eight of Pentacles:

The drive and passion you need to excel at your career or hobbies are lacking in this lifetime. You really struggle to maintain a job or hobby long enough to become good at it. Because of your soul wounds, you have difficulty sticking with one thing for a long period of time.

Why do you need to complete that unresolved issue?

The Lovers:

You are really struggling to fall in love not only with others and things but also with yourself because of this wound. Due to your fear of commitment, you struggle to maintain one thing in your life, so you don't really know what makes you happy. You don't know how to love yourself. You need to heal from this wound in order to begin to love yourself and others.

How can you complete that unresolved issue?

Four of Swords:

You need to slow down and rest. Stop jumping from one thing to another. Put an end to not letting yourself get comfortable. It is okay to devote a lot of time and energy to one passion. It doesn't mean you're missing out on life, as long as it makes you happy. You need rest to heal.

What is an important lesson you need to fully understand?

The Empress:

In this lifetime you need to understand that by not staying in place for a long period of time you are running from your growth. Also, what you're running from is your abundant future. If you genuinely want to feel happy and secure in your life, you must learn to stick with one thing and stick with it until the very end. Your life will be filled with abundance if you do this.

What is an energy/characteristic that you should channel from that life?

Queen of Pentacles:

The Queen of Pentacles is very loving and warm. Their hard work has made them very successful in life. In your past life, you stuck with your journey of being healthy and free from negativity. You need to channel that hard work and warmth in this lifetime. This is what will help you.

Channeled Messages from Guides:

“Are you ready? Are you sure? There is no turning back now.”

“Unlock the magick within.”

Letters:

H

E

T

O

E

O

Pile Four (Goldstone Star):

Who were you in a relevant past life?

Knight of Swords:

You were very socially adept in your past life. It was your quick wit and charm that really attracted others to you. Your lack of humility was made worse by your inflated sense of self-importance, which also gave you the ability to lead well. Despite your lack of patience, your aggressive side made you successful.

What is something unresolved from that life?

Ten of Wands:

Your life's goal was to be in a position of power because you knew you would be a great leader. However, you never reached your goal. Although you came close to achieving your end goal, you fell short. Some of you may have been in politics.

How does it affect you in this life?

The Hanged Man:

Every time you feel as though you are doing well, it seems as though you have to make some sacrifices to keep that success, and these sacrifices are either too difficult to make or they never work. Therefore, you are unable to achieve success.

Ten of Swords:

It seems impossible for you to achieve success as well as a leadership position in this lifetime. It seems that nothing you do pays off and life constantly throws disaster after disaster your way. It seems that everything comes tumbling down whenever you start feeling good about your situation.

Why do you need to complete that unresolved issue?

Knight of Cups:

You struggle to remain optimistic in life as a result of all the negative experiences you have had. Romance and charm don't seem like a part of your nature, you don't have the time or energy for them. You have dealt with disaster after disaster and have no energy or desire to be a romantic, optimistic person.

How can you complete that unresolved issue?

Two of Cups:

Allow yourself to be romanced. You've been running away from this part of yourself for a long time now because you don't want to get your hopes up. You can heal yourself by being romantic with yourself and allowing others to romance you. You need to fall in love and experience true love in order to heal the wounds from your past life.

What is an important lesson you need to fully understand?

Five of Swords:

You have felt defeated almost all of your life in this lifetime and do not understand why you are being treated unfairly. As part of your lessons for this lifetime, you are to feel defeated and let that defeat direct you towards success because you never allowed that to happen in your past life. In the past, you gave up when faced with defeat, but in this lifetime you must persevere.

Ace of Cups:

Because you considered pure love to be beneath you in your previous life, you never experienced it. Your pursuit of success drove you. This life lesson is about learning to love innocently and purely. Do not run away from those emotions, but rather let them wash over you.

What is an energy/characteristic that you should channel from that life?

Queen of Swords:

Naturally, the Queen of Swords is a quick thinker and pretty smart. Every situation they encounter is viewed lucidly by them. In the past, you were like this, and this is how you should be now. Your success in this life will be further enhanced if you channel this energy.

Channeled Messages from Guides:

“Abundance, love, and wealth are coming your way.”

“The worse is now behind you and you are surmounting any previous challenges.”

Letters:

L

E

R

U

N

I

Though tips are not required, they are very much appreciated. Thank you! Venmo: @ aphrostarot Paypal: paypal/aphrostarot

[duskamethyst]

possessive.

a/n: i feel like there aren’t a lot of yandere bokuto so i decided to write it myself

word count: 2k

genre: smut, nsfw

warnings: noncon, yandere behavior, overstimulation

pairing: yan!bokuto x f!reader

summary: bokuto isn’t a fan of being the second place in receiving attention, particularly yours. bokuto hates it when you (unintentionally) ignore him, keep him out of the conversation (that doesn’t concern him in the first place) when you talk to his teammates and those seem to be the main problem of the unwanted situation you’re facing going to face. to conclude, even outside the court, bokuto craves for attention.

konoha is your assigned partner for the class assignment but it takes so much more of your time than the other’s since he’s more devoted on his volleyball practices after school than the whole thing. thus, the only time you can manage to talk to him further besides during lunch and class is during his practice.

“okay, so i’ve already finished most of my part so for your part, you’ll need to--” you begin, but only to be cut off by a shout of your name.

“hey, you didn’t even say hi to me?” bokuto runs up to where you and konoha are standing with a frown on his face.

“oh, hi, bokuto.” you smile before turning to the other male beside you. “anyway--”

“what are you guys doing?” he shifts closer, peeking the notebook you’ve been holding to show konoha your progress.

“i’ve told you before, bokuto. we’re partners for our class project!” konoha beams, patting your shoulder and pulls you closer to him in a friendly manner. “you work so fast, i feel bad though.”

bokuto glances at the hand resting on your shoulder but quickly averts his gaze to his friend, “then you better pick up the pace too, huh? so you won’t give her a hard time.”

“yeah,” konoha smiles apologetically. “hey, how about we go to the library tomorrow so we can finish the whole stuff?” you nod and smile at him, the thought that he is not entirely hopeless sends a wave of relief in you.

“can i come?!” bokuto chimes in with puppy eyes. both of you blink at him in confusion.

“nope! it’ll only be the two of us!” konoha laughs, “come on, break time’s over.” he walks away to the center of the court, pushing the sad bokuto along with him.

checking in your bag half-way home, you suddenly realize that you have left some of the materials you need to go through for the assignment tomorrow with konoha. it will be such a drag if you have to stop by school first tomorrow so you lazily walk back to your class and go through under your desk. the door of the class slides open and you turn around to see no other than bokuto.

“oh, hey.” you smile, walking towards the door. “i’m just about to head out. finished practice?”

“oh, yeah-- kinda.” he replies shortly.

“kinda?”

“i told them i wasn’t feeling really well.” he says, sliding back the door close behind him. the thought of bokuto-- this bokuto, is ill is rather absurd to you. you’ve watched him play, and there was not even a single time that this man had gotten any injuries. not even a broken finger from blocking a hard spike from the opponent. he had never even missed a match from being sick. the only time that he seemed “sick” was when he was in those mood swings and he would usually get back up on his feet. nonetheless, he is still human after all.

“you seemed fine earlier.” you exclaim, trying to get to the door but he shifts his body in front of you, blocking the door instead. when you move the left, he moves to the right, vice versa. you look up at him questioningly but you can’t really conclude the expression written on his face and it’s very unusual.

“maybe if you weren’t ogling konoha, you would’ve noticed.” he mutters lowly under his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

“what?” you shake your head. “first of all, i wasn’t. and secondly, if you haven’t noticed, you’re blocking my way.” you reply matter-of-factly, stepping to the side again before he grabs your shoulders and turns you around to pin you against the door. you look at him in horror, realizing that his build is solid and muscular up close and if he wants to hit you, you would definitely get knocked out.

“i really got sick after seeing you and konoha, you know that?” he has the same look on his face and a sly grin comes up across his face afterwards. “of course you don’t. but since we’re alone now.. i can finally have you all to myself.”

he smashes his lips onto yours, the kiss is hasty and rough, his hands begin to wander all over your body before one of them makes its way under your skirt to grab your ass. your trembling hands try to push him away but he doesn’t falter. instead, his grip goes harder.

“don’t even try to resist me.” he warns as his sharp teeth starts to nip on the delicate skin of your neck, leaving harsh purple marks.

“s-stop.” you beg when the hand on your ass moves to rub circles on your clit. it hurts, it’s uncomfortable but as every second passes, even you can feel that you begin to pool under his touch-- let alone the jerk who’s grinning from the results of his work.

“wow, you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles, rubbing the wetness between his fingers as if feeling it through your panties isn’t enough to convince him. “but i can’t help but to wonder how you taste.”

he easily lifts you up and lays you down on the teacher’s desk before pulling down your panties and puts it inside his pocket. bokuto leans down and pushes your legs up before spreading your slits open with his fingers and sticks his tongue out to lick your clit.

you feel embarrassed when his golden eyes meet yours, watching you as you squirm while his tongue laps up the juices from your sloppy cunt. you recognize the proud look on his face, you’ve seen it when he successfully delivered a cross-court shot over the net during the tournament but never in a million years you’d expect to see the same grin between your thighs.

“you wanna cum don’t you?” he coos as he slides in his finger inside you.

“no..” you whimper, trying to close your legs but his strong hand pushes them further apart.

“well, i’m gonna make you.”

bokuto slides in another finger and starts fingering you continuously, persistent to make sure you’ll cum for him. he curls his fingers and you begin to find a wave of pleasure slowly building up inside you and you hate yourself for it.

“oh? you look like you wanna cum.” he chuckles as he watches your body writhing on the desk. the room is filled with heavy pants and sloshing sounds from your pussy. you start to feel that you’re pushed to edge as bokuto presses down and rubs your clit with his thumb.

“i’m-i’m gonna cum..” you say between breaths.

“it’s okay, baby. cum for me.” he whispers encouragingly as he watches you throw your head back, soft moans slipping out from your pretty lips. bokuto continues with his pace before your body shakes from releasing an orgasm.

“such a good girl.. you wanna make me happy right?” bokuto leans down to kiss all over your face but your mind is too numb to even respond. “say you want me to fuck you.”

you shake your head slowly, you wish for nothing but to end this torture-- but you should’ve known better. bokuto shifts back between your legs and starts to lick your throbbing cunt again. he watches you as your body starts to writhe again, though his gaze is rather intimidating, much different from earlier.

“please, stop.” you plea but fall into deaf ears instead.

“say it.”

seeing how you refuse to “please” him, he continues to lick you while fingering you, overstimulating you while taunting you all at the same time to push you further to edge.

“f-fuck me, bo--” the words are like music to his ears. bokuto quickly stands up and takes out his cock and almost immediately slides into you. a moan of pleasure escapes from his mouth as he starts to thrust his hips and pushes his all of his thick cock inside you.

“you feel so good, baby.” he compliments-- almost too genuinely. he gazes adoringly at how his glistening cock easily slips in and out of your wet hole despite how you denied him earlier and you can feel how he grows impossibly bigger inside you.

you turn your head to the side, not wanting to make unnecessary eye contact with the man violating you, the one making you feel as if you’re nothing more than just a sex doll.

“i’m good aren’t i?” he asks. if it isn’t for the fact that he’s assaulting you, you’d say that the question sounds very innocent.

you refuse to answer as you persistently stare at the wall. your blood boils at how this man has the audacity to shamelessly ask you such a thing. you know how he’s like, you’ve heard it from konoha himself. he tells you how the whole team carries the responsibility to cheer him on while playing in court to ensure that he gets riled up and how he lives off from being praised by them. you thought that it’s ridiculous but who would’ve thought that you’re also experiencing it first hand, only with his cock plowing inside your guts.

the lack of response irritates him. he needs to hear you say that he’s doing a good job, he put so much effort in this. this is what he had always wanted. he would’ve played it nice but seeing how you were all over his friend earlier, how you subconsciously ignored him, made him do this. it’s your fault. you can’t be mad at him. he’s finally alone with you so why can’t you stop staring at the wall and pay more attention to him? you’re making him upset.

bokuto mercilessly picks up his pace and gets rougher, making sure that you know that he is in balls deep. you finally turn to face him, his brows are knitted together, his expression is no longer compassionate as he focuses on making you cum together with him. bokuto knows that he’s giving a brilliant performance when he starts hearing you moan but now he just needs some compliment.

“i never knew you’re this stubborn.”

you bite down on your lips hard and close your eyes as you feel the coil inside you begin to swirl around, threaten to snap but bokuto is quick to pull away and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb. you open your eyes to see him staring back at you as he waits for you to beg for him.

“bokuto, please..” your voice croaked. he slides in his cock again and gives one deep thrust.

“say it.” he pulls out and rams back in once again, the process repeats itself all over until you eventually start to give in.

“y-you make me feel so good.” you whisper. bokuto’s eyes lit up again and a proud smile creeps up to his lips as he starts to fuck you again.

“that wasn’t so hard was it?” he leans down to nibble your neck as your body arches and your legs slowly wraps itself around his waist. “only i can make you cum, right?”

you let out a shaky ‘yes’ to answer his question, though your mind is rather occupied on how his throbbing cock fills every inch of you and your walls wrap so tightly around his.

“so-- fucking tight,” he hisses. “tell me whose cock is making you feel this good right now?”

“yours!” you wail, hands clutching firmly on his shirt. you feel so close and you know that he feels the same from the way he picks up his pace to chase after his high. with a few more “encouraging” whispers slipping from your mouth, bokuto groans as he finally cums inside you and just as what he wishes for, you reach your second orgasm with him. bokuto pants for air while leaning down to the crook of your neck, his cock still twitching inside you to release the last few drops before he’s sure that he’s empty.

“you can only look at me, and only me.” he murmurs and tilts your head to face him before crashing his lips onto yours once again.

deep down you’ve always known and maybe you shouldn’t have underestimated that even outside the court, bokuto craves for attention.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[mistaeq]

One scoop of Bucci gang HCs for the first time quiet reader bursts out laughing in front of them please!

Bucciarati Gang: with a Quiet s/o who Bursts out Laughing

TW // none

Thank you for your request! Bucciarati Gang, my favourite dorky compatriots <3 hope you enjoy, I had fun writing these!

Bucciarati Gang with a quiet s/o who bursts out laughing in front of them, neutral!s/o

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

GIORNO GIOVANNA

You first burst out laughing in front of Giorno when nature itself betrays him and he can't stop sneezing because of the pollen coming from a flower he had grown himself. Karma? An unlucky day? You may never know.

Having been with Giorno a lot, you learnt that plant's effect isn't dangerous, so you can look at your boyfriend getting mad over sneezes, and he's absolutely hilarious. You're sorry that this is happening to him, don't get it twisted, but seeing his chill behavior get lost for this mess is priceless.

He's not only pissed off because he keeps on sneezing, but he's also pissed off because he'd totally like to hear that unexpected laughter of yours clearly, without his sneezes covering it every now and then. He doesn't know when this chance might ever come back, and he wants to clearly hear you.

His frantic and clumsy moves while his nose keeps on betraying him cause his perfectly donut shaped hairstyle to ruin, golden locks falling on his forehead and his braid becoming a messy load of fluffy hair covering his neck.

"Y/n... will you..." sneeze. "..w-will you stop staring..." sneeze. "..it's kinda embarrassing... m-mamma mia..." sneeze. "..but no... no, don't stop laughing... p-plea.. a.." s n e e z e.

After he manages to stop sneezing, his shocked look and his red cheeks let a last giggle come from you, as you hold him tight and leave a sweet peck on his nose. You caress his hair, you find him so attractive even without his signature hairstyle, and that's worth some sneezes, isn't it.

LEONE ABBACCHIO

You first burst out laughing in front of Leone when you hear him curse in front of his mirror because his clothes won't fit him anymore. His chest was too broad.

Abbacchio chose not to use curse words in front of you, that's why when you catch him red handed, swearing and cursing at his clothes, you can't help finding him funny. As soon as he hears you laughing, he winces and turns around.

"Fuck... come on... why won't this fit..." he was pulling the irremovable fabric on his shoulder. "Maybe my chest is now too big... what the hell, come on... mamm ro Carmn... [Neapolitan dialect for: Carmine's mom. Not a cute thing to say. It's an angry neapolitan "mamma mia".]" then, he heard you laughing, and winced.

When he sees the big smile on your face when you lovingly laugh at him, he's petrified. He hates hearing this type of laughing, because it's the exact thing Mista and Narancia do all the time. But on you? You sound so happy and relieved, and Leone likes it. For real.

He just stands there, half his chest and a shoulder being naked, looking like a disheveled princess. Too funny. He huffs and ignores you, to make you think he's annoyed. But you know him too well, and know that if he's hiding his face, it's because he's actually smiling, too.

You hug him from behind, looking at your reflection in the mirror still in front of him. Abbacchio looks over his naked shoulder, right where you are, leaving a tender kiss on his skin, before giggling once again. He turns around, and kisses you, leaving his purple lipstick all over your cute mouth. He likes your laughter better, like this.

GUIDO MISTA

You first burst out laughing in front of Guido when you're practising together with cooking. And he just can't believe it, when you laugh so hard just for a pun of his. You are baking some good bread to share it with the gang.

He takes your hand and smiled. "Are you a garden, y/n?" Guido asks you, before throwing a handful of flour on you. "Because I feel like my love for you is FLOURishing!" you burst out laughing, holding onto him, spreading flour on his apron, too.

That genuine, happy laugh really warms his heart, he feels his knees get weaker and his negative thoughts fly away. He could listen to that forever. Mista is just so shocked. It takes for him a couple of seconds to realize what happened, before he finally holds you back.

Seeing you silent all day makes him kinda sad, and one of his dreams was making you laugh like that. He has been putting a lot of effort for that, but manages to do it only when he's his actual self, with a simple pun.

"My love for you is FLOURishing too, Guido..." you manage to answer, your cheeks obtaining a cute, irresistible red color, as you get on tiptoe and peck his beautiful lips. He's totally enamored, he's under your spell and can't believe you answered his pun so well.

When you get back to your work, he sometimes still hears you giggle, thinking of how bad yet cheesy that pun was. But it made you unwillingly burst out laughing, so you guess it's okay just the way it is.

FUGO PANNACOTTA

You first burst out laughing in front of Fugo when you see him getting angry over Narancia not knowing maths. Fugo promised himself and Bruno not to physically hurt Narancia again like what happened with the fork in his cheek.

This being said, the only way for Fugo to express his anger is screeching on his chair. When you hear that sound coming from your boyfriend, you can't hold back your laughter. It was so unexpected and someway unbelievably cute. Narancia is just scared.

Fugo hears the angelic bells of love in his heart, as if God himself came down from the paradise and graced his ears with your laughing voice. It immediately calms him down. But if he calms down, you stop laughing.

"Why isn't 8 ÷2 = 3? If I split an 8 in half I get a three!" after hearing Narancia mumbling those words, Fugo screeches again, and you giggle even louder. But you understand the poor boy can't keep on getting angry just to hear you laugh.

That's why you soon stop, approaching Fugo and resting your magical hands on his shoulders, giving him a massage because he's a great teacher and he's doing his best. His moans while you help him relaxing his shoulders make you shyly giggle too.

"Why does this sound sexual?" Fugo wishes he could kill Narancia. But he's too focused on your hands working on his shoulders to care, and quietly screeches as you giggle again.

NARANCIA GHIRGA

You first burst out laughing in front of Narancia when you see Fugo getting angry over him not knowing maths. Narancia is shook, kinda confused on why what he wrote isn't correct.

Fugo screeches on his chair, he promised not to hurt your boyfriend, who shows you his paper, looking at you with a questioning look, probably asking you why what he wrote is wrong. You burst out laughing as you read. Narancia is a complete mess.

As soon as he hears you, he completely forgets about maths for a second, focusing on the sound of your beautiful laughter. Narancia is baby, if the person he loves the most laughs, he doesn't care what's the reason, he laughs with you. Then, he kinda remembers why you started giggling in first place.

"For real though. Y/n, why isn't 8 ÷ 2 = 3? If I split an 8 in half I get a three!" after hearing Narancia mumbling those words, you laugh even harder, desperate Fugo witnessing your boyfriend throwing away his maths notebook and run into your arms.

You're usually so silent and he may never know when he's gonna hear you again like that. You two laugh together so much that you start panting, your faces red with big smiles and almost sweating.

"Why does this look sexual?" Narancia wishes he could kill Fugo. But he's too focused on your little giggles and your cute smile as you lean on his shoulder and kiss his cheek. He might be not so perfect in maths, but he's perfect in making you so happy.

TRISH UNA

You first burst out laughing in front of Trish after you trip on a piece of furniture and risk falling on the ground. But as soon as your body touches the ground, you feel it jiggly and soft, bouncing a little on it.

Just a moment before you thought you were gonna get a few bruises after falling on the ground, but now you're just there, happily bouncing on Spicy Lady's brand new jiggly floor and laughing out loud, staring at your girlfriend's surprised expression.

You've never laughed like that before, and Trish is pleasantly surprise to see that her stand's work has such a good effect on your mood and on you, in general. She might consider making more objects jiggly, if this is what you like. All she cares about is seeing you happy and amused.

"Tell me, y/n..." she gets closer to your figure jumping and loudly giggling, and stares at you with loving eyes. "Would you mind it, if I jumped with you too? You look like you're having fun..."

You couldn't ask for anything more. You moved a little to let Trish join you, grabbing both your hands and jumping along with you, finally laughing so you can see her beautiful smile, even though she's the one who cares about seeing yours. Your girlfriend would do anything for you... even disobey Bucciarati.

"You... you two had to clean the house while we were away... it was your turn, this morning!" the capo's jaw fell as soon as he saw the mess Spicy Lady had done. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, but what matters is that afterwards, you and her laugh together remembering Bucciarati's expression. Then, she kisses your smile in case it would take a lot for it to come back.

BRUNO BUCCIARATI

You first burst out laughing in front of Bruno when his stand disobeys him and opens a zipper through a wall to reach for your room and cuddle with you.

His shocked face and Sticky Fingers's cute, happy sounds are too hilarious for you to keep a serious expression. You're so used to see Bucciarati as the authoritarian type of person who has everything under his control, but now he doesn't and he's quite panicking.

Even more shocking for Bruno is seeing how you actually let his stand cuddle with you, a warm laughter coming from your sweet lips, he loves so much. Music for his tired capo ears.

He can't help staring at you with a loving smile. Moments like these don't happen that much, and God knows when you're gonna do that beautiful sound again. He secretly thanks Sticky Fingers for doing all of this, but since it's his soul, there's no need to say it out loud.

"Your laugh is one of the best sounds my ears ever witnessed, tesoro. I might want Sticky Fingers to disobey me more, if this is the result..." then, he'd bring a hand of yours to his lips and kiss it, kiss your smile, kiss your precious laughter.

Even if you stop laughing, Bruno enjoys your little giggles while his stand strokes your hair and purrs when you caress its head. As the user feels what the stand feels, your hand caressing Sticky Fingers caresses Bruno too, and he'll eventually giggle with you.

[crimeronan]

Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so.  yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes 

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world.  follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content.  in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass.  which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype.  mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that.  yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale.  both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness??  rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family??  rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life??  rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry??  once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks??  all that repression baybey.  this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years.  every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far.  not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc.  i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc.  but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me.  he’s so fucking good

[not-poignant]

I was lurking in the discord, but I was wondering what exactly about Ef would classify him as a "soft client" to Dr. Gary? Is it just because he recognized that Ef is incredibly capable of loving underneath his trauma? Or like because he hadn't had like extreme cases of violence for a period of time? Or is it just like a combination of everything haha

We’ll probably have to give some actual context to Dr Gary’s job here, which I know I’ve done before but I can’t be bothered looking for the ask/s so I’m going to do it here in more detail.

Just a heads up that there will be a frank discussion/detailing of very disturbing themes which will include the malicious rape and murder of minors. (I.e. things that we do not deal with directly in the Spoils of the Spoiled universe at all). Mentions of client death by suicide.

Dr Gary is a specialist psychologist who actually focuses in on the clients that no one else wants to see. That doesn’t include people like Efnisien. Dr Gary sees the teenagers who have been raping their parents or terrorising them for years because it’s fun, he sees the juveniles who have raped or shoved foreign objects into their toddler siblings and killed them through mass internal bleeding, and felt nothing else about it except ‘well I ruined that one and now I think I’d like to find another one.’ He sees teenagers that are resistant, usually hit every part of the Macdonald Triad, have often/usually killed already, or have certainly raped before in a malicious or serial fashion, and almost always express no or minimal remorse for their actions.

They are manipulative, pathological liars who have very little interest in respecting the mental health system or psychologists, they often don’t want to get better, or show minimal interest in getting better, and they have a high recidivism rate (i.e. rate of going right back out there and committing crimes). A significant percentage of Dr Gary’s clients have eventually gone on to commit suicide or end up in maximum security prisons.

But Dr Gary is - due to his own personal interests, and due to his set of skills - suited to specifically helping these people, and also, he has a strong belief that everyone deserves some form of assistance, and that no one should be refused genuine psychological help just because other people believe they should be, as an example, put to death or sent to jail forever. Especially - to him - when they’re teenagers or young adults. He recognises that just because people don’t want to deal with these teenagers, doesn’t mean they don’t exist, or they don’t deserve help. He recognises that most of society will wash their hands of them and pretend they don’t exist, and he will metaphorically push his sleeves up and get to work. He strongly believes that ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away, and jailing the problem is rarely effective on its own.

This is one of the reasons why he falls back on ‘I don’t believe in good or bad people, I believe in good or bad actions.’ If he can reduce the rate of criminal activity, or change the action profile of these clients, even if they still want to behave maliciously, he considers himself on a successful journey. But it also means he works closely with juvenile detention facilities, created Hillview himself, and works closely with outpatients. (As well as in consultation, teaching, and sometimes working in court cases as a specialist). There’s a reason Mack has desk alarms and a sophisticated protection system and it’s not because of people like Efnisien; though Dr Gary wouldn’t see the most dangerous ones at his private office anyway.

I’m sure, when Dr Gary started out, he took more of a mix. But he soon distinguished himself as someone who was not only willing to take on those clients, but was actually more able to get results because his compassion is genuine (let’s be real, psychologists are only human, and a lot of them - despite their best efforts - are still going to really fucking resent someone who raped and murdered a toddler for the lolz), but so is his Take No Shit attitude. So after a while, he was only getting referrals for the most serious clients. And then he had so many of those, he had to assemble a team of specialists, and that was basically how Hillview was born.

In the end, his spectrum of clients were among the most difficult and some of the most dangerous. When Efnisien antagonised Dr Gary by saying ‘how have some of your clients not tried to kill you’ Dr Gary was probably thinking ‘oh, they have, they have.’ I like to think Dr Gary actually has a giant scar along his flank from a time when he was much younger, hubristic and under-estimated one of his clients, and that after that he got a lot more serious about his work and also his willingness to have security standing nearby when he’s working with the most serious ones.

Even his team of specialists take difficult and high risk clients, but Dr Gary is just known in the system as taking the worst of the worst (kind of like how Mikkel is known as being a public defender of domestic violence victims specifically). And these people do get known in the system. A lot of psychologists either won’t take on certain clients or do very poorly with them because they don’t want them or don’t have the tools to handle them or just are manipulated by them. So juvenile detention centres, lawyers, other psychologists and psychiatrists and facilities begin to get a bead on the specialists who will actually help, or at least try. And then they call them incessantly, forever. Dr Gary is a busy, tired man who tries to take at least two weeks off a year to sit on a beach and stare at the water lol.

Efnisien by comparison to Dr Gary’s other clients, molested people his own age - led to it by coercion, never raped anyone, and tortured animals. That’s still terrible, absolutely, but by comparison, he’s just not anywhere near the same calibre as any of Dr Gary’s other clients. He’s someone who is capable of remorse and demonstrated that before Dr Gary ever met him. He’s someone who literally has stopped hurting all animals and people by the time he’s placed in the hospital. And a quick interview with Dr Gary revealed he wasn’t a ‘psychopath’ as Gwyn thought he was, but someone with Pure O and complex PTSD who was exploited into acting on intrusive thoughts by an abuser (which we learn at the end of Spoils of the Spoiled, when Gwyn realises that Efnisien probably never would have grown up the way he did if it wasn’t for Crielle and it makes him very sad). As soon as Dr Gary realised that, he was like ‘oh no, turf him onto someone else, that’s too easy.’

The only reason he took him on was due to a complicated set of factors, including guilt and remorse that Efnisien was molested/sexually assaulted in Hillview by the psychologist that Dr Gary referred him to.

But being referred to Henton in the first place doesn’t mean Efnisien doesn’t have serious mental disorders (he does), and it doesn’t mean Efnisien doesn’t need serious care (he does), he just doesn’t represent the bulk of Dr Gary’s high risk clients. He’s an outlier. Efnisien feels his feelings and ultimately is a very soft person, not just a soft client. He wants to please everyone, he actually hates hurting people, he’s nervous and shy and fidgety, he’s sensitive and responsible and empathetic, and his biggest misfortune was needing to please a psychopath growing up that he was completely dependent on in order to live, who constantly reminded him that he was abandoned and that he’s only worth loving when he’s good (i.e. doing what he she wants), so he had no other choice. And his story or journey is literally the uncovering of his real self, or the self he is without being under the influence of Crielle. And he rebelled against that influence under his own steam, and she tried to kill him for it.

I also think Efnisien is helping Dr Gary realise that he maybe doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life working with ‘the worst of the worst’ just because no one else is equipped to handle them. Even if it can be rewarding at times.

These days he’s building a curriculum to educate more psychologists in aberrant psychology, and developing genuine compassion in the face of aberrant and malevolent behaviour and holding a centre in the face of that, and looking to spread the load a bit more, and work more as a supervisor for other psychologists who are learning how to deal with these clients. He’s realised that clients like Efnisien make him feel a lot more hopeful about the human race overall (not that he was ever a nihilist), and that maybe Efnisien shouldn’t be the only one. But we’re never going to learn that in the story, because it’s not a ‘Dr Gary story’ lol.

[wonglix]

➺ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ: ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴇxᴘᴏsᴇᴅ

⤷ fluff, lil‘ angst

*•.¸♡ hongjoong ♡¸.•*

he was incredibly upset and mad, hating the fact that you were just outed like that - his main concern being you and how it would affect you. the main reason you weren't already in a public relationship were the fans that had some sort of entitlement to them; an obsession that made them feel like they deserved to decide what was going on in their lives. the fact that it's precisely those people that caught onto you made him feel sick to his stomach; he'd love to be sincere, and he'd love to think that people would be accepting, but he knows that that really won't be the case - so he tries his best to cover it up until he can't anymore and is forced to come out with the truth. once hongjoong couldn't cover it up anymore, he'd write a letter; expressing how much he loves and cherishes you as well as his wish for them to just let you be. he won't flaunt the relationship around in hopes of everyone just settling down and accepting it one way or another.

*•.¸♡ seonghwa ♡¸.•*

his initial reaction is confusion - there's no way they caught onto you, absolutely no way. imagine the anger that boils in his veins when he realises that someone indeed did out the two of you, compromising pictures being posted along with the accusations; he knew that there was no way he'd ever get out of this - he had to be honest. seonghwa would try his best to be genuine and convey just how much not only he but also the other members loved and treasured you. he's hoping to appeal to sensible fans which hopefully will be able to make the angry fans realise that's it's neither of your faults for falling in love. he'd avoid talking about you much after that, hoping that it'd become just another fact about him rather than a topic of discussion.

*•.¸♡ yunho ♡¸.•*

yunho hates it, he's mad and boiling inside, but my god does the idea of doing little live streams with you or being able to talk about you openly excite him. whether he'd be able to pursue his fantasies is up to you and the company, yunho secretly loving the idea of going public. would he have preferred to be the one to break the news instead of some obsessive, delusional fan doing it? yes, of course. did he still somewhat enjoy the prospect of introducing you to his fans? yes, absolutely. his next actions would 100% depend on your opinion on the matter, as well as the company (since he can't decide something like that without their permission). if you ask him to keep your relationship under wraps, he absolutely would, but if you choose to give in to him and go public, you better make yourself ready for some cutesy lives he's going to (lovingly) force you to take part in.

*•.¸♡ yeosang ♡¸.•*

yeosang was one of the more angry ones, the idea of ill-tempered fans taking their frustrations out on you making a cold shiver run down his spine. he always made sure the two of you were cautious whenever you met, so this was a punch in the guts for him. yeosang contemplated whether an excuse would work in your guys' favour or not; if people would believe it if the company released a statement that denies your alleged relationship. depending on the way the relationship was outed, if there was definitive proof or not, he'd either own up to it (but still keep it lowkey) or would beg the company to cover it up. yeosang didn't want to apologise because he felt like there was nothing he did wrong - he fell in love, and that shouldn't be anyone's business. he would probably end up writing a small apology if the situation does turn out to be against you two, hoping to ease the worked-up fans and ensuring that they won't take it out on you.

*•.¸♡ san ♡¸.•*

as mad as he was at the saesangs that outed your relationship, there still was this small part of him that was somewhat thankful. don't get me wrong; he was still incredibly angry and upset that saesangs took away his choice whether you guys wanted to go public or not - but san didn't like keeping you a secret. he wanted to be able to talk about you openly since you're such a big part of his life; you're the one that keeps him sane when things get stressful again, and he wants his fans to know that. san would probably want to be honest and admit that the rumours were true, though he'd never act without you agreeing - he wanted to be open about your relationship, of course, but not at your expense. should you agree to be in the public eye with him, he'd essentially do summersaults and jump around, the excitement of showing you off getting to him. san would make it a rule not to bring you up unprovoked though, realising that the news of him dating could be painful to some fans.

*•.¸♡ mingi ♡¸.•*

the panic that spread through him made him feel like he was about to explode. his hands were sweaty, he was pacing around the dorm, and none of the other members were able to calm him down. mingi doesn't know what to do; should he just own up to it and put you on the spot for toxic fans to threaten and send hate to or should he just lie in hopes of people eating it up? he always thought that you were careful, that there was no way someone would figure it out - he didn't account for a salty staff member that decided to take out their anger not only on mingi but also on you, though. he could've taken a rumour about him, but now that you were thrown into the mess he didn't know what to do. it makes him so angry that someone would go this far, especially when it's a well-known fact that partners of idols arent particularly liked - he's mad that it had to come that far, but he's also sad because now he's scared. scared because now you didn't only have to accept that he barely has time, that work always will be a priority, but also that there are thousands of people that have an unreasonable hatred towards you for merely loving him. mingi will talk to you about the options you had and would agree to whatever you decide on - desperate to do even better as your boyfriend now that people would hate you for it.

*•.¸♡ wooyoung ♡¸.•*

the news couldn't have been spread at a worse moment; wooyoung was doing a live when the comments all of a sudden were asking him about his relationship, who he was dating, if it was another idol, how he met them. to say he was confused and maybe a little scared would be an understatement. wooyoung would try his best to play it off, joking about it and denouncing the pictures without hesitation. in the end, he might've made the problem a lot worse than it had been to begin with, clips of him trying to desperately come up with a joke being spread along with the initial pictures. at that point the news had spread to you, the other members, the higher-ups at the company - it was too late to release a statement denying the rumours now, the majority of people already having bought into the news. wooyoung would leave it up to you if you'd like to step into the spotlight with him, or if you'd prefer to be the mysterious y/n wooyoung was dating, which no one really knew anything about.

*•.¸♡ jongho ♡¸.•*

this would probably be one of the most stressful events of his life, to be honest. jongho was convinced that the two of you always were thoughtful of when and where you met, not daring to take many risks - which made the fact that someone outed you ever the more surprising to him. he'd try to figure out when you slipped up, or if it may have been something neither of you could've foreseen. as mature as jongho is, and this would definitely catch him off guard; he'd probably depend a lot on you and his members while trying to figure out if this situation was fixable, and if so, how exactly you two could get out of this. if you guys somehow manage to get out of this, you'd probably be quite lowkey for a while; avoiding dates outside and preferably staying inside, spending a lot of time on face time rather than meeting up in person. should all efforts of covering it up go to waste jongho'd try his best to be mature about it, deciding to be the one to take all the heat and hate comments. he'd definitely be taking the time to write a letter as well as doing a live stream to explain the situation. he'd try to keep you out of the spotlight though, not wanting the negative comments to get to you as well.

[mytwistedhome]

𝓝𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓮 𝓛𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮 ~ 𝓦𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼

Gender-Neutral Reader ; written in present tense & second person pov

I, personally, adore Valentine's Day no matter my relationships, but I know that this day is associated with loneliness for a lot of people, so... this particular story was written for that feeling in mind. I hope you all are able to find love and allow it into your hearts every day in any way.

You're standing at the edge of the wishing well, with beautiful clothes and your hair done well. The air is warm for the coming of March, and the sun melts away the last mounds of shimmering snow on this final February morning.

And, with snow in mind, you remember Neige, whose name and essence is that of snow. He was the one who asked you here just a week ago. It's the reason why you're dressed so nicely right now—he insisted upon a day with you soon, and of course, a day with him by your side was reason enough to look your best. This morning, however, you found it difficult to put the effort into getting ready. There was a hesitance weighing you down upon rising from your bed; an identifiable feeling that made it hard to do much of anything. But, once you started, you found yourself being lifted into a better mood, and you tried to enjoy the process of getting ready and pretty.

Indeed, you look so pretty, but you don't quite feel so as you stare at your reflection in the water of the well. Though your mood as slowly gotten better over the last couple weeks, you still feel a weight at your chest. The loneliness that Valentine's brings when you spend it void of company or gifts.

You wonder if Neige had noticed you down because of that day of love... He had, after all, asked you out after seeing you sad for several days. You appreciate his thought, but you hate to think that this was out of pity, for if it's done of pity, than it isn't sincere.

But... you trust that Neige's intention isn't as such. You know him to be genuine and honest—too sweetly simple to be anything but. You know he only would ask to be with you if he, himself, truly wanted to. He had to.

You let out a breath, a deep exhalation that clears your thoughts, and you focus your gaze back to the water of the well. Slight ripples and waves are made with every small vibration that the water seems to sense, though you don't know what it could possibly be. Something so subtle to make the water tremble?

Oh, but it doesn't matter now. You look up from the well and onto the earth around you. Much of the trees are still bare from having suffered through the winter, but in just a few more weeks, everything would bud and grow green again. Everything will be full of life. You don't quite know if you're excited for or dreading this year's spring. What is spring even like in Twisted Wonderland? You realize, now, that you do not even know.

But, before you can ponder further on the things you still have yet to learn of wonderland, you a familiar voice echoing gently through the barren woods. Soft and beautiful, but projected clearly... how pretty.

The voice grows louder as the prince approaches. It is a song of no words, just voice moving up and down to create a wonderful melody—one that could entrance you for all eternity.

Louder, still, you're able to hear exactly where the voice is coming from. Your turn your head toward a clearing between the trees, catching the shadow of a young man coming into view.

"Neige!" you call out to him and wave your hand in greeting. A wide smile unexpectedly spreads over your lips; you wouldn't have guessed that you'd be as happy as this.

Neige beams when he sees you, his expression so bright it could warm any frigid winter day. Running to you, he exclaims, "I'm so happy you came!"

The joy is shared, you say in your head as Neige gets near. He does not hesitate to hug you at once, embracing you tightly as if he'd missed you dearly.

You hug him back and inhale a sweet scent of apple and daisy. He feels so warm within your arms, and you are so grateful for even this brief affection.

But, of course, the moment cannot last forever, and Neige pulls away, still standing close. "How are you?" he asks, "I know it hasn't been long since I last saw you, but it really seemed like it. You look beautiful!"

"I've been good!" you answer him. It is a white lie, or, perhaps, the goodness you feel within this moment is enough to make all of February become a fond memory. Your heart is beating fast hearing that he missed you enough to feel a drawl in the time spent away from you, and you find yourself smiling ever wider. "How has your week been?"

"It's been really good," he answers with a smile as he leans over the well, "Though, this month has not been the most fun."

Your own smile falters upon hearing that. You had been feeling the same way, and it made you sad to think that Neige could be feeling any similarly...

"Oh, no! Please, don't get the wrong idea!" he rushes to correct his words upon seeing your face fall. "It hasn't been bad at all, just less fun compared to the month before. Winning VDC was such a wonderful moment, but the weeks that followed have felt empty in comparison. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy them." His sweet expression returns, "What about you? I know you managed the team for Vil. You did a wonderful job! But it must have felt lonely to no longer have rehearsals."

You fluttered your eyelashes, surprised how just spot on he was... The weeks have, indeed, been extremely lonely. You no longer have so many friends at your dorm, and having that companionship you didn't even realize you loved so much stripped away made for such a lonely month, and led to sulking Valentine's. Yes, "lonely" is the perfect word.

You are honest when you answer him, though you try to phrase it in a way that isn't so distressing. "Yes, you're exactly right... I miss the rehearsals and seeing everyone so often. It is lonely without them. I miss them a lot sometimes."

Neige's expression softens into one of understanding and compassion. "I completely know how you feel," he reassures you, "There's always an emptiness when we're no longer able to see the people we've become close to, but that leaves you room to get comfortable with just yourself. You don't have to feel lonely when you're alone!"

"Yes, you're right... thank you, Neige," you say, so appreciative of his kind words. Someone like him must never feel alone... There's enough love in his heart to entertain himself forever. Perhaps there was something to learn from that.

Neige takes your arm and pulls you closer toward the well. "How about we wish to never feel lonely ever again?" he smiles brightly, "I read in a story long ago... if you sing a wish into a well, and it sings it back, than it means the well has heard it, and it's sure to come true."

Your cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment, hesitating to sing in the middle of the woods. "Oh... I'm not sure..." is all your able to muster out, but of course, Neige insists.

"There's nothing to worry! Wouldn't you like to make a wish?" he laughs a little upon saying that, "I guess it is a little silly, but there's no harm in trying. Here, I'll go first."

You watch as Neige leans further over the wall, stretching gracefully with his arms gripping the stone. "I'm wishing~" he sings, his voice a perfect melody. And then, quickly, he turns his ear to the water, eyes growing wide as the well echoes his voice. "Did you hear that?" he asks you, "The well can hear us!"

You nod your head enthusiastically, showing him a beautiful smile. Wonderland is full of wonderful things... Perhaps this well is magic, too.

Neige continues with his song. "I'm wishing~" he repeats, waiting for the well's reply, and then, "For joy when I'm alone~"

The well echoes him perfectly, and you gaze down at the rippling water with so much hope. A small part of you may still doubt the magic that Neige promises, but even just believing, just pretending, is enough for you to enjoy.

"It's your turn...!" he says to you gently, beckoning you not to be shy.

You nod your head bend over the well, pressing your lips together as your heart begins to race. You hesitate a moment, but eventually find the courage to repeat the words he sang. "I'm wishing~" your voice comes out meek and soft, but there is still a faint echo that whispers back.

"Yes!" Neige exclaims, "Keep going!"

You take a breath and, with a bit more confidence, you sing, "For joy when I'm alone~" The well repeats your words clearly, assuring you that it heard, providing you with a hope that it just might come true.

As you straighten yourself beside the well, you feel a blissful lightness at your chest, and you smile true happiness. All the weight of the month sees to slip away, tumbling and drowning into the water below, leaving you with a serenity well-deserved.

You turn to Neige and smile. "Thank you. That was wonderful."

He grins in return. "I know! It's one of my favorite things to do, and you were wonderful."

Your heart flutters, and the two of you laugh together, simply happy to be with each other's company.

Neige soon breaks the pleasant stillness as he reaches his arm out to you. "Come on; we can't stay here all day. Let's take a walk together."

You nod your head and take his arm gently, linking it with yours. You walk together side-by-side across the stony pathway that led out of the woods and into the courtyard of RSA. "It's really a beautiful day," Neige says as he glances at the mounds of melting snow. "I love when the sun shines during winter. Everything is pretty."

You giggle to yourself lightly, "Yes, I agree! It's easy to be happy on a day like this." And you walk on with him, knowing that this will be a wonderful day.

[skylerscull1]

About That (One Of Us Is Lying) - Simon Kelleher Analysis

One thing about the differences between the original book and the tv show edition of “One Of Us Is Lying” that I particularly like is how they portray the characters connections to one another. In my mind, I’m seeing Maeve, Simon and Janae hanging out making the About That posts together. I particularly like Simon as a character, such a sad fate for a 17 year old boy, he may only be featured in the first chapter of the book in which he dies, but he makes a lasting impression and a great impact. Especially since the entire book is essentially the investigation into his supposed murder. 

Spoiler Alert!!

Simon was really clever, and particularly spiteful, in some ways he reminds me of myself. Either way, it’s unfortunate what happened to him, he sure does know how to create drama though. To plan his own death to such details that it looks like a murder and he almost takes down four other students with him? He puts so much effort into planning his death, framing the four students for his murder, and even roping in two of his friends into the plan to make sure everything goes the way he wants it to. Honestly, I imagine he would be a Slytherin, though I could equally imagine him as a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw. 

Simon was a clever guy, spiteful, depressed, and yet he was ambitious, a go-big-or-go-home kind of guy. He isn’t afraid to take chances or take ricks, to tear down obstacles that are in his way, to do what has to be done. He makes connections when he can, he is smart, top of his class. Simon also does his research, he thinks things through, plans things out to a T, he isn’t the type to make up rumors if he can help it, though he isn’t afraid to lie and manipulate or make things up if it benefits him or a friend. He’s the kind of person that’s more than just the outsider and the outcast, he’s a lone-wolf that wants nothing more than to belong, to fit in and have the respect of others. If he can’t get that? Then he’ll settle for being feared, for being hated. 

Simon couldn’t stand being a nobody, being left behind, watching the hypocrites walk by, being continuously pushed aside. He’s the kind of guy that wanted everyone who pushed him aside to suffer like he did. He wasn’t a hero, he ruined lives for a living by exposing their deepest darkest secrets, he exposed people for who they really were behind the lies. He made sure people got what they deserved, in some ways he could be seen as doing a public service, at least that’s how he sees it.   

Simon wasn’t a good person, not by a long-shot, that only makes it that much more unfortunate when it’s revealed he manufactured everything from the very beginning, that he killed himself and framed those four students, and he did all of this just to ruin the lives of the four students he hated the most. It was petty, he hated his life so much, wanted to fit in so desperately that when nothing he did worked he went as far as to kill himself and frame it as a murder just to make an impact.

Overall, it’s a great twist that was revealed in the end: the murdered kid who happened to be the most hated kid in that school - wasn’t actually murdered, he killed himself and made it look like a murder. Good job, Simon - everything almost went perfectly with how you planned it. What you did took guts, I have no doubts you’d do whatever it takes to get what you want. Simon doesn’t care about his own life, all he cares about is taking people down with him. It isn’t honorable, but it’s understandable. Who doesn’t find themselves angry and spiteful every once in a while? Hatred and spite festers like a disease in your bones, spreading through your cells, fogging your mind until all you see is that. It’s hard to be happy when you feel so much hate, he couldn’t genuinely enjoy himself, he spent a good portion of his school life tearing other peoples lives into pieces because his life was already horrible. 

Tell me, what are your thoughts? Does that surprise you any?

[nonfayth]

a deep dive into the home life of bern’s royal family, and why zephiel became the man he does when he grows up. whilst some headcanons are made here, it’s mostly just me extrapolating what we already know in canon.

tw: emotional abuse and toxic parenting under the cut.

king desmond and queen hellene were wed out of an entirely political marriage, and although hellene was excited at the prospect of having the opportunity to be a good wife and mother, she would never have the chance to truly be seen as the former due to the fact that desmond harbored affections for his actual paramour, a bernese woman of common birth. he would never be able to marry the love of his life due to both status reasons as well as how bern sought out the advantages of linking themselves with one of etruria’s most noble families, thus giving them a link to another major power in the continent. it would be foolish, in the bernese court’s eyes, to refuse the marriage offer from hellene’s family then.

though he could not officially be with his paramour, king desmond was allowed to host her within the bernese royal palace, and so he did, making quite public displays of affection with her while electing to not spend more time with his wife than necessary. it was quite obvious who he favored of the two, and desmond was never really a subtle man who kept his emotions close to his chest. servants could describe his behavior towards his lover as amorous to the point of being sickeningly sweet and his behavior towards his wife were dismissive at best, outright hateful at its worst.

desmond’s nasty nature against his wife is what leads hellene’s own dreams to turn away from that of love to one of power. when she bears desmond’s heir in the form of zephiel, she immediately expresses hope for the day that zephiel will take the throne away from desmond. being the mother of the future king, she assumes she will be given more respect around the palace and have a more secure future. zephiel is seen less as her beloved son and more as her winning piece to get back at desmond; zephiel is the constant reminder that desmond’s days in power are limited, and that one day it will be hellene’s own blood taking over.

desmond, upon first seeing zephiel, hates him for the mere fact he is hellene’s son. zephiel is living proof of their a marriage forced onto him, and he cannot stand the living reminder of it, especially if people were going to come and congratulate him on the birth of a healthy heir and then speak about the son frequently now. to avoid the nuisance of being forced to see his newborn child, he banishes both zephiel and hellene to an off-site manse under the guise of claiming that hellene needs more time to be able to relax with the baby. this further enrages hellene, motivating her to make zephiel into a project to spite desmond.

she will make it so desmond must acknowledge their son.

hellene from a young age is both strict and neglectful with her son. zephiel is afforded every tutor he can be given with her own personal funds ( funds that desmond is obligated to give her every month but no more ) and is sent to lessons as soon as he can walk and talk. he is drilled in military arts, history, etiquette, the arts, and all manner of topics to groom him into the perfect heir. luckily for her, zephiel proves to be a prodigy and excels in everything quickly. she spreads this like wildfire, telling every and anyone of how perfect her son is so as to make the general populace enamored with him.

the lessons zephiel devotes himself to is scheduled in such a way as to not afford him much free time if any at all, and when he is given the chance to breathe, he is encouraged to spend it on pursuits that will make him look either handsome or intelligent such as learning to play an instrument or falconry. when he gets the chance to speak with his mother, usually only at meal times, she is quick to ask him of his studies and nothing else before excusing herself. if things are going well, she praises him and finds new topics and limits to push onto him. if things are going poorly, she goes to discuss things with his tutors.

zephiel does not know love, but if he does not know it, then he cannot be sad to be missing it.

these days of aiming to become the perfect heir continue, and when he is old enough, hellene tries to show him off to desmond. hellene waits until she is positive that zephiel is in top form, and she stresses upon zephiel to make sure he impresses his father.

he performs spectacularly. he is polite, he is well-learned, and he endears the knights with both his charisma as well as his talent in martial arts despite his young age.

the sight of everyone surrounding desmond, people devoted to him, being taken by the prince enrages him. hellene’s smug smirk in the corner does no favors either. desmond realizes that the people love the person he has resolved to hate, and he looks bad for not welcoming zephiel into the palace as a result.

stubborn to a fault and envious over how his son is better than him in every degree, especially given how desmond himself is a mediocre man, desmond takes to publicly shaming zephiel. desmond is unable to quell his own ire in order to remain civil, and so he sharpens his words in order to try and chase the boy away. the less time zephiel spends in the palace, the less he can charm the people around him.

desmond also goes on the offensive, calling out zephiel’s behaviors as manipulative. he tries to warp the narrative, claiming zephiel’s attempts to get in his father’s good graces are in actuality calculated moves to make him look bad in contrast, and that zephiel is merely a power-hungry prince who needs to learn respect. desmond is convinced this seemingly perfect son of his is just like the woman who conceived him, and he cannot see zephiel as anything other than someone who plots against him and wishes to see his downfall.

zephiel, confused and distraught by this callousness, struggles to cope with it. his mother and the tutors ensure he is wonderful, but his father openly bashes his character and disapproves of him so vehemently. though hellene is upset by this turn of events, she insists that zephiel continue his studies and attempts to make desmond recognize him as his rightful son.

being treated to verbal abuse every time he visits the palace but encouraged to desire approval from his father, zephiel’s brain attempts to make the reality easier to stomach by twisting his perception of his father’s words as right. if he is to keep trying to curry favor with his father, then it would be difficult to do so while believing he is being unreasonable.

every time desmond scolds him and tells him that he is not worthy of his love nor his position as crown prince, zephiel begins to believe it more and more. the problem lies with him, and he must earn his father’s love. the burden lies on him. he begins to pray to st. elimine every day for this, but his prayers go unanswered as the abuse remains the same.

if even st. elimine won’t help him, then this is proof that zephiel is simply not working hard enough and is not deserving of such a gift as familial love. st. elimine isn’t wrong to not grant his wishes. st. elimine is a beloved religious icon.

the desire for love grows as does the mistreatment when zephiel meets desmond’s second child. she is a little girl named guinivere, born from desmond’s mistress. though desmond attempted to keep guinivere and zephiel from ever properly meeting, guinivere is a bit of a rebellious girl in her youth and desmond is helpless to stop her, too doting and weak to her as the product of his healthier romance.

guinivere instantly loves zephiel, and she begins asking every day to see him again and play with him. she is open with her adoration, and this is the first time zephiel experiences actual love from anyone. he, in turn, loves her too in the purest way a half-brother can, starved for genuine affection all his life, and the two prove difficult to separate.

desmond grows paranoid that zephiel aims to kill guinivere to try and get him where his greatest weakness lies, still convinced that zephiel is as conniving and out to get him as hellene is. desmond grows physically violent now, destroying and killing any gifts that zephiel brings with him as he is unable to physically harm zephiel himself without being criticized even more by the royal court of bern. he shuts zephiel down even more each conversation they have, and his vitriol is even worse than before.

desmond hates his son for not only being the perfect heir but also for being the person guinivere loves the most in the world, even moreso than her own father.

zephiel is given even less leave to be able to visit the royal palace now, giving him more time to reflect upon his perceived mistakes in conduct and more time to prepare for the next time he shall meet his father only to not even be given a chance to impress the man. the more effort he puts in, the more he despairs at the inevitable failures. the more love he receives from guinivere, the more he wishes he could be with her always, and the more he longs for similar affection from his father and mother.

he yearns for a loving, happy family. he tells himself he has not earned the right to have it.

this self loathing and lack of confidence in himself rises to such a point that zephiel refuses to believe other people when they compliment him. he sees praise as ultimately unhelpful to his quest to get his father to approve of him, and he convinces himself that his father’s insults and critiques of his character are his father’s way of trying to groom into someone worthy of his attention. the only correct person, the only person worth listening to, is desmond.

his belief in his father is unshakeable. even when his father hires assassins to get rid of him on the eve of his coming-of-age ceremony, zephiel does not suspect for even a second that it was him who had sent the hitmen in the first place. zephiel merely sees the incident as the universe testing him, seeing whether or not he can weather through what might come for him one day as a royal. it is merely expected of him to be able to fend off such attempts, and anyone could be out to get him.

when his mother goes through an unexpected shift in demeanor after the incident, even telling him that she will try and support his wishes to move back into the palace and live as a family, he believes he has taken a step forward towards his goals.

this would not be true, for desmond would merely wait for another opportunity to strike.

when zephiel grows to be of an age similar to when desmond himself became king, desmond invites zephiel to have a drink with him. zephiel is excited at the prospect; after over two decades of working for this outcome, it looks as if he has finally become a man worthy of love.

it turns out “love” tastes like poison.

for the next ten days, zephiel hangs on the cusp of life and death. he is unable to run away from the truth this time: his father wished to kill him. it was his father who knowingly served him poison, and it was his father who smiled as he was writhing in pain after taking a sip from the goblet. it was no ordinary poison either, but rather a poison meant to incur agony upon its victim as they remained aware of it for more than a week.

desmond wanted him to not only die, but to be suffering a slow death too.

zephiel is only able to survive the incident due to his vassal murdock’s dutiful attempts to filter the poison out of his system, but when zephiel is able to regain his strength, he is completely changed by the experience.

his previous unshakeable faith in his father being the type of man who is secretly looking out for zephiel and trying to make him the best man he could be is unable to cope with the damage and betrayal of trust displayed. the only way for zephiel to stay sane after the experience is to believe that it is human’s nature to be bad people. as zephiel ruminates during his recovery period, he looks back on all the years he had wasted trying to win the favor of a man who would never give it to him, and he evaluates the kind of man king desmond really is.

he looks at the envy, the open love for another other than his wife, and the paranoia. zephiel realizes desmond’s attempts to kill zephiel were all founded on ugly emotions, and in order to accept that the man he looked up to the most secretly had a dark heart, zephiel must then believe everyone can and will succumb to such emotions as well. after all, if desmond was supposed to be the best of them, then what could be said for people zephiel held in less regard?

he turns his personal tragedy into something he believes must be a universal one, and when he kills his own father a few days later, that marks the death of the zephiel who believed in the absolute good of people’s intentions.

it also marks the birth of a zephiel who believes the world would be better off without humans, for if they are all fated to become horrible people, then why bother with them at all?

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 32

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine

There comes a time in one's life when all is said, but still needs to be done, and in a heartbreaking majority of events, it also requires dressing up. 

You watched Loki pull on the ephemeral, golden threads shifting through the air around his face. "You sure it's working?"

"I know how to cast an illusion, darling," he muttered, focused on the mirror. "It's really not that hard."

"I don't see any difference." 

"You're not supposed to. It'll only work on strangers."

"So… We'll only know if it worked when someone screams?" 

"I'm touched by how much trust you put in my skills," Loki sneered, with eyes focused on his jaw. You wondered what the face he was working on looked like. Given the intensity, it must’ve been a work of art. 

Loki sealed the illusion and checked it from every angle. It felt so much better than the shabby mud that monk had plastered onto his face with little finesse. It might've worked against the less intellectual part of the population, but to anyone who had even the slightest knowledge of the high arts, it was no more than a laughable effort. 

Loki smiled, imagining the clash that would follow if the monk and his excuse of a sorcerer met the Asgardian magic wielders. It would be a sight worth paying for. Loki would make sure to get a seat in the front row. 

On the other hand, even he had to admit that the bracelet they came up with was a piece of work that he would never expect to find on Earth. Oh, he would've figured out how to get rid of it eventually, of course. There was no denying that. Loki might've figured it out earlier, if he… wasn't distracted. 

He looked at the source of his distraction in the mirror. It was that moment you found something in one of the pockets of your jacket. 

It was a phone. 

"I knew we forgot about something." 

"Is this…?" 

"That guy's phone. I didn't manage to unlock it in the end. How about we drop it at the precinct on our way?" 

Loki frowned. "Won't your officers be suspicious how we came into its possession?" 

"Not if we magic it in. Anonymously." 

"...that is not how it works." 

In the end, it was precisely how it worked. 

The phone, with a handy little note of explanation, just found itself at the right place, at the right time, without anyone at the precinct noticing. 

You patted Loki's shoulder. "Nice job. I wish you could teach me a few tricks." 

"It's not that easy. Your world barely has any magic, so it's difficult to make it comply with one's wishes," Loki said with a hint of sadness as you both turned and walked up the street in the direction of Peter's school. 

The streets were full of people, busy on their errands. The sun was blinding against the fresh scope of snow. The sky was clear and crystal blue, with the sort of unachievable intensity that almost felt artificial. 

"What is it like on other worlds?" 

Loki sighed. Walking so close to you, he could feel the brush of his arm against yours. His hands remained in his pockets, though. The reason wasn't the cold, of course, since he could barely feel the bite of it. His hands, for reasons beyond understanding, kept getting sweaty no matter how many times he discreetly brushed them against the fabric. 

"Spell casting is… essentially, wishing for something to happen, and convincing the world around you that it can become true. Magic is the means by which the world listens to those brave enough to wish. In your world, there's barely any magic. But there are others, where a mere thought shapes reality."

"Must be cool to see that." 

"It's almost like lying, truth be told. Ancient scholars used to classify it as the same thing, although mostly due to mistakes in translation of the most ancient volumes. Thankfully, I'm skilled in both. It makes life easier."

"Wait...so THAT'S where the whole 'Loki the Prince of Lies' thing comes from? Not that you're a lying, deceptive piece of—" 

"That's quite a touchy topic, you know. I might've… meddled in the lives of some very vengeful individuals, who out of pure, unjustified spite might've decided to curse me a little—... Wait, why are there children."

Loki stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the pavement. 

In front of him, as far he could see, stretched a sea of colorful stalls surrounded by a writhing mass of people, dominated by younglings in all shapes, forms, and levels of noise. 

You looked at him and back at the crowd. "It just kinda happens that this huge building right there is Peter's school. And this very school is organising the science fair for the kids attending it. Who, right now, are taking part in it. Here." 

Loki's frown deepened as he comprehended the mess. Groups seemed to form around the stalls, children and adults alike. It would be difficult for a stranger to guess what was being presented on some of the tables, and indeed, Loki couldn't guess it either. Some seemed to flash chemical reactions aimed to showcase colorful effects, mostly to the entertainment of the youngest offspring roaming freely around. Other tables were filled with equipment that surely took a lot of time to build, and even more to explain. Loki was quick to be bored by those. 

While swallowed by the crowds pressing on from every angle, you called Peter, pressing the phone to your ear close enough to hear him over the overwhelming noise. 

There were attempts at bringing order to the gathering, and some spaces had been less prone to chaos than others. Those, usually, were centered around food. 

"Ooh, I like that too," you said, putting the phone away at last. 

Following Loki's gaze, your eyes fell on the delicious looking snacks. The smell drove you insane and seemed to do the trick on the trickster too. You watched as some kids walked by, chewing on the deliciousness. Then you looked at the queue. A very orderly, and very long queue. 

"Hey, Loki." 

"Yes, darling?" 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" 

"To my great surprise, I think I might be. Magic truly is a blessing." 

Peter found you not so long afterwards, when you were finishing the second round of magically-brought treats. Of course, you made sure an equivalent amount of cash appeared where it should. You didn't fall so low yet to outright steal from kids. 

"Mr. Mischief!" screamed over the heads of strangers was what caught Loki's attention. And the impact of a teenage body jumping right at him was what squeezed the air out of his lungs. 

"Hello, boy," Loki muttered. You gave him thumbs up. 

"I love the way you smell," Peter pressed his face a little more into the god's chest. 

Loki blinked. "Thank you, boy." 

Peter finally unplastered himself from the god and took the both of you in with such genuine joy that you couldn't stop a smile from spreading on your face. He was dressed up in a spotless shirt he kept tugging on. You whiffed a smell of cologne definitely not suited for his age. 

"Someone's nervous," you teased Peter. "I wonder what would've happened if we forgot your ring… " 

"Please, tell me you didn't!" 

"Of course we didn't." You pulled it out of your pocket. So many happy moments were connected to that ring, you almost missed it already. So much cake… 

Peter immediately tucked it away in the pocket on his chest, glancing around himself. If, by any chance, that one special someone was anywhere near, he wanted to know. 

He noticed you watching him. "I'm not nervous. I'm just cautious." 

"Whatever you say, Peter. It's your call." 

Despite his words, Peter couldn't stay in place. "Come on, guys. I gotta show you my project before we present them all!" 

Going any further into the mass of people was the last thing Loki wanted to do. The day was bright and chilly and the place Peter was leading them to was unmistakably a sports hall where the more ambitious, and temperature-sensitive projects had been placed. 

Loki, theoretically, of course, began wondering how he could disappear without anyone noticing. People got lost all the time and no one made a fuss about it. As much as he might not hate the kid, he wasn't interested much in high school projects of dubious chemical reactions, shown in stuffy, smelly interiors. 

As if you could hear his thoughts, you turned your head to face him. "I hope it works out. He's been working his ass off for the past few weeks to impress MJ." 

Before Loki answered, he noticed your outstretched hand. His heart skipped a beat, and jumped into his throat out of surprise. It was a pure coincidence, and a completely normal, random thing to feel, and there was absolutely nothing behind it…

Your hand was warm and felt right in his own. 

Of course Loki didn't get distracted. He just so happened to miss the moment when you reached Peter's lab table, densely occupied by all manner of gadgets and parts, with the main construction hovering above the rest. 

Peter didn't notice Loki's state. He was focused on all the things that still needed to be put in place or cleaned off the table before the presentation began. 

"It's okay, I've got it all under control," Peter said, hiding a few screws in his pocket. "The teachers are probably going to start with the tables over there, so mine would be second to last, which gives me plenty of time to—" 

Plans are good as long as all the parties involved are aware of them. In Peter's case, the teachers weren't. 

Peter's face went pale when he noticed the commission arriving at the table to his right. His eyes were wide and frozen in utter terror. 

And then he desperately tried to scramble everything together in record time.

You tried to help him, but you had absolutely no idea how. All you could do was watch him panic through the preparations at light speed. Loki squeezed your hand. "The boy will do fine." 

The boy was not so sure. 

He barely noticed when his classmates encircled the table, wishing him good luck and sharing advice that vanished from his head in seconds. 

Despite that, Peter managed to clean his table as much as he could before the teachers neared, with notepads in their hands. They tactfully ignored loose parts laying behind him. 

Loki caressed the back of your hand in a reassuring gesture. You both listened to Peter give the explanation of his project, with his voice wavering only a little. Peter started to go through all the steps he had prepared, pointing out all the important details as things you had no idea about changed on the table. The boy was pale, but did his best during the whole process, and as he moved to present the project, you almost believed he had everything under control. 

He didn't. 

In the moment of the biggest tension, when everyone was waiting for the results, they didn't come. 

There was a second of pure, unfiltered panic on Peter's face. He froze, eyes plastered to the unquestionable lack of any result. 

Your elbow jabbed Loki's ribs. The ribs were slowly getting used to it. 

"Please, help him," you whispered with urgency. 

"What am I supposed to do from here?" Loki frowned. He was tall and could see everything from over people's heads, but it didn't change the fact that there was a row of bodies tightly pressed together between him and the boy. 

"I don't know, magic something up." 

"Magic something—It doesn't work like that!" 

"Then make it. Are you the Prince of Lies or not?" 

Loki frowned, torn between looking at you and Peter at the same time. "Oh, blast it…" 

The results, preferably big and flashy, were what the commission was waiting for. Loki gave them results. 

Peter's eyes went wide when his project, that had been completely silent for the past few seconds, suddenly gave fruit to absolutely outstanding results. They were applauded, scored, and noted with grateful smiles as the commission moved to the next table. 

And completely not what was supposed to happen. 

Peter was still frozen in shock as he got encircled by his classmates, and showered in compliments and questions. The shock was still bright on his face as he was dragged further down the line of tables, to support the next unlucky friend. 

Loki followed the boy with his eyes. It looked like no one had noticed that something was not adding up. Loki had a very general idea of what Peter's project was supposed to do, since the lack of time prevented the boy from showing them the final product of weeks of hard work. He wondered which of the girls around Peter was that MJ. 

"I can't believe it worked," he muttered to himself, lost in thoughts just as Peter got lost in the crowd. 

"Thank you. You did great." 

Loki huffed, but couldn't stop the hint of a smile from ghosting over his lips. He supposed he'd have to answer a lot of questions once the boy was freed and jumped him again, but even that idea didn't feel so bad. It felt good to be appreciated and welcome in places and events that were important to someone. He was strangely glad someone wanted him to be a part of their life. 

Loki's breath caught in his throat as your arm slipped around his waist. A nervous, careful presence hugged him for a second, melting any and all resolve he might've still possessed at that point. 

"You're awesome. Wanna steal some more candy with me again?" your voice asked into his neck that suddenly ran with goosebumps. Accidentally, of course. 

But there was nothing accidental about the way Loki leaned into the hug, welcoming it with a feather-light touch to your back. 

"With you? Always, love."

A/N: Please tell me what do you think about this chapter or the series in general! It’s so sad to see the number of notes and comments decreasing with each new chapter :(

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

A Sister Like You

Inspired by this post in which Elsa her 8yo self and Anna is her 18yo Frozen 1 age at the same time, AND @themountainsays ‘s tags about how it could make an interesting bastard!Anna au.

Special shout out to @like-redhead-probably and @daughterofhel for your encouragement! And pssst @jabs-wocks this one is much cuter and fluffier, I promise <3

Edit: Ao3 and FF.net

---------------------------------------------------

The king and queen had a terribly kept secret: their firstborn was a bastard.

It was a terribly kept secret because, well, everyone loved her.

Anna of Arendelle was too much like sunshine on a cloudy day for people to hate her. The cooks loved her because she wasn’t a picky eater like her father, and the maids loved her because she always helped mend the sheets she ripped during her playtime. The gardeners and stablemen loved Anna because she talked to the ducklings and horses and goats, and even the flowers weren’t ignored. The people loved her because she was a bright child who walked among the crowds in the market and bought pastries from the local baker with a smile full of missing baby teeth. Anna danced with the town’s children during the festivals and chased after ships until the end of the dock as they set sail.

And perhaps most importantly, her parents loved her - one of blood and one of adoptive heart. They promised to care for the little red-headed baby as their own, regardless of what people said. 

Truly, Anna was a light in the dark, even as a toddler, a fire in the midst of winter during her childhood years, and that warmth only soared to bonfire heat with the birth of the first true princess, her little sister, Elsa.

Anna’s love for Elsa was similarly earned in the way it was passed to her: instantly, freely, and without hesitation.

Elsa was born in the midst of a terrible winter storm that ended as soon as Anna was let into the birthing room. The king was right behind her, kissing his wife’s head sweetly as they peered down at their second daughter. The question was asked if Anna wanted to hold her little sister and Anna nodded furiously, already getting a leg up on the bed. They laid Elsa in her arms and Anna's eyes filled with wonder at the tiny bundle. She sat completely frozen, not wanting to move or change her position lest she disturb Elsa. The babe fussed and grabbed Anna’s small finger in an even smaller fist. Everyone in the room fawned over the action.

“She’ll be queen, right?” The king and queen exchanged a glance, hesitant. Anna had not seemed put out by the fact that she would never officially rule, but she was only ten, and they weren’t sure if that would always be the case.

The king cleared his throat. “Yes, darling. She will.”

Anna looked back down at her baby sister. Looked at her like she was her whole world. Elsa hiccupped a little and Anna smiled her blinding smile.

“I can’t wait,” she said, wiggling her trapped finger back and forth so Elsa turned towards the motion. “She’s gonna be great! And I’m gonna help her!”

The mood shifted instantly and everyone relaxed, rejoicing. Elsa’s forehead wrinkled at all the noise and she began to wail until Anna soothed her, shushing all the adults with a serious tone. They did, but not without some laughter.

And then Elsa sneezed.

Frost dusted Anna’s twin braids and bangs. She blinked. Everyone stared in complete shock. A small snowflake fell delicately from nowhere to land on the tip of Anna’s nose. In her arms, Elsa made little noises of satisfaction and nestled herself further into Anna’s hands before falling asleep.

“I take it back,” Anna whispered excitedly while the room found their tongues. “She’s going to be the best!”

-------------

In the middle of the night, Anna crept through the darkened hallways of Arendelle castle, easing the door of her parents’ room open. She lifted, with some effort, the door from the bottom with her toe so it wouldn’t squeak and give her away. She closed it just the same, sidling over to the crib along the far wall. Voices came from the opposite side of the room, in the connected bathroom.

They were arguing. Again.

She couldn’t remember them arguing when she was little, but Anna wasn’t sure that was because they hadn’t, or because they’d not had a reason to.

Because now they were always arguing about Elsa.

Anna dragged the stepstool up to the side of the crib. Elsa was deeply asleep, mumbling vague syllables as Anna rocked her bed gently with her knee. Half a year had passed and Elsa kept getting bigger everyday. Her hair was growing out, her cheeks were soft and pudgy (“Just like yours!” The staff would often remind Anna), and she had started to laugh and laugh and laugh at all of Anna’s antics. Anna was utterly enchanted by her, her little sister was genuine magic.

And of course, Elsa was literally magic, too.

Raised voices rebounded around the walls as the king and queen found new ground to battle over. Anna saw Elsa’s lower lip wobble and put her hand down into the crib so Elsa could hold it. With her other hand she touched the bandages around her head.

“It’s okay,” Anna murmured, “I know it was an accident.”

They’d been playing Peek-a-Boo.

Anna had surprised Elsa for the hundredth time with a joyful, “Here I am!”, only this time Elsa had placed her hand on Anna’s temple as she giggled and there was a flash of white. The next thing Anna knew she was on horseback, jostled back and forth in the king’s lap. They rode hard, to a clearing she didn’t recognize. Creatures rolled out of the mist and popped open, revealing themselves to be trolls. Anna would have been excited under normal circumstances, but the looks on the king and queen’s faces, and the fact that Elsa was crying her tiny lungs out, had her clamping down on any questions.

The adults talked, human and troll alike, but Anna was having a hard time paying attention. Elsa was so far away, upset, and she couldn’t reach her. Her body felt stiff and cold, especially her head. She couldn’t stop shivering. One of the trolls saw her reach out from the king’s arms and told everyone that Anna was awake.

The old troll informed her gravely that her life was in danger, that Elsa’s power would only continue to grow. He showed her images with his magic: a figure in blue turning water to ice, then being pounced upon by figures in red. They were beautiful, and frightening, making Anna’s heart pound sluggishly in her chest. The queen and king said the troll could do whatever he needed to save Anna’s life and protect Elsa from such a fate. The troll approached Anna, with more magic shining in his rocky palm, and said that everything would be fine, that it was just her head and not her heart. He chuckled humorously.

“Much better to lose a few memories than your life.”

Anna refused.

The adults sputtered.

“Will I remember Elsa?”

“Yes, of course but-”

“Will I remember her magic?”

“The magic is what did the damage, and to remove it I would remove-”

“Then no.”

And she wouldn’t hear it any other way, even as her body grew colder and the vision on her right fractured and split. A frozen headache pulsed at her temple, spreading rapidly across her skull. Still, Anna sought out the sound of Elsa’s voice, even though others were getting in the way. She couldn’t tell who was who. Some of them wanted the troll to do it anyway, that Anna was just a child, only ten, and didn’t know better. Some wanted Anna’s wishes to be respected, that perhaps there was another way. Even more worried about the future, the kingdom, what it might mean to have a queen with powers… or a bastard without memories of them.

What were the consequences of hiding Elsa’s powers from the public? What were the repercussions of making the same mistake over and over, if Anna was literally unable to remember the danger?

So many questions, so many voices.

All of them wanted her to live.

Anna took air into small lungs embedded with ice shards, speaking softly but clearly even as fatigue stole over her.

“Elsa’s powers are a part of her. Forgetting them means I’m forgetting part of Elsa. I don’t want that. How can I help her if I don’t know her?”

--

When Anna next awoke she was in her room back at the castle, wrapped solidly in blankets. Summer sunlight filtered through the curtains, bright and cheerful. She thought perhaps it had all been a dream, and she’d been allowed a rare day to sleep in.

In fact here was Gerda, thankfully with breakfast, walking through the door. Anna sat up to make space and shot her a cheerful, “Good morning!”

Gerda dropped everything she was carrying in one huge clatter and rushed to Anna’s side, burying her in a deep hug.

“Oh, my little Princess!” She always called Anna that, even though she wasn’t really. “We thought we were going to lose you!”

Anna went to protest but spied her reflection in the mirror over Gerda’s shoulder. Her hair was it’s usual post-slumber mess, but this time instead of it being held away from her face by sheer luck, it was by bandages.

Gerda set about getting her dressed and fed and ready for the day. She did Anna’s hair last of all, delicately peeling away the strips of cloth. It hurt a little, but not too bad. Anna wasn’t sure what she expected to see as the source of the pain, but that wasn’t it.

“Did I get some of the powdered sugar in my hair?” She asked.

Gerda looked sad, gazing at Anna through her reflection. “No my dear, that’s…” She paused, deliberating. Anna touched the white streak at her temple, following it back where it disappeared behind her ear.

“I don’t know all the details,” Gerda finally continued, “but I’m told you were very brave.”

Anna watched Gerda comb the white streak into her braid and remembered.

And to her everlasting relief… she remembered everything.

-------------

Anna and Elsa grew up, little by little, leap by leap. Space was cleared out in Anna’s room for Elsa’s bed and things, but by that time they were already inseparable. From the moment Elsa could walk she followed Anna everywhere. Laughter was common, and anyone in the castle who caught an earful of it drifting and caterwauling through the halls always gave a smile. Unless it was followed by the sound of something breaking, then it was usually a kickstart to a sprint.

As Anna edged into her teenage years things got… a little silly. Now at ages fifteen and five, the girls could get into all kinds of mischief. Nothing terrible of course, mostly playing knights in the hallways with the armor and freezing their tutor’s inkwell after a particularly difficult day of study. But then of course, there was the time Elsa made sleeping versions of them to fool people into thinking they were tucked away for the night, only to get caught sneaking into the fjord waters for a late night swim. Or the time Anna pretended Elsa was sick and was only taking requests through the door - requests that included chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, hot chocolate (in summer), chocolate mousse…

The future that the king and queen feared never came to pass; Elsa’s powers indeed grew as she did, but they were tempered with the practice that came along with frequent use, namely entertaining herself and her older sister. Anna never got tired of watching Elsa, “Do the magic,” and Elsa never got tired showing her.

Anna’s sunny disposition never wavered even when others thought it might, when, despite their closeness, familial bonds, and education, Anna’s status as an out of wedlock child started to become more frequently pronounced. If anything, Elsa took more offense to her sister being addressed as, “Lady Anna,” while she got “Princess Elsa”, than Anna ever did.

“But you are a princess!” Elsa protested one night. They were both in their respective beds, across from each other, flat on their backs as they watched the hues of the Northern Lights waver over their ceiling.

“I’m technically half adopted,” Anna clarified.

“What does that mean?”

“It means one of our parents isn’t my flesh and blood parent, even though I call them Mama and Papa just like you do.”

“That’s so weird,” and Anna could hear Elsa’s frown from her side of the room. “Which one?”

Anna shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I haven’t wondered, but it just, never seemed to matter enough to ask.”

“I could ask.”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t have to.”

“But I wanna know!”

Anna sighed. She watched the lights dance a moment before saying, “I don’t.”

“Oh…” Elsa went quiet. “Can I ask why?”

“Sure you can.”

A few seconds passed before Elsa huffed irritably and Anna grinned in the dark. “Why don't you want to know?”

“I want to be mysterious,” Anna teased.

“Anna!”

“What? If you get to be queen, then I want to be the spooky, strange older sibling!”

She expected a laugh but was met with silence.

“...Did you wanna be queen?”

Anna opened her mouth to reply how she always did, but stopped. This was her sister, not some dignitary in a hushed tone or some drink toting duchess at a dinner party. She deserved a real answer.

“No,” Anna said finally, “not really anyway. Even when I was little I didn’t dream of holding Papa’s scepter or wearing Mama’s crown. I felt like that was their thing, and you had your thing! And I was… am, happy just being me.”

“Is that because you really never thought about it, or because someone told you it would never be yours?”

Anna’s brows knit together and she sat up quickly. “Hey,” she smirked, “who said you could be a five-year-old philosopher?”

“Sorry!” Elsa sat up too, her arms hugging her bed sheet covered legs. “I just think you’d be really good at it!”

“Good at it?” Elsa nodded, the Lights roaming through her hair. “What makes you say that?”

“Well…,” Elsa began rolling her hands in a circular motion. A small ball of twinkling snow appeared between her hands, rotating gently. She did this whenever she was thinking. “You’re smart and patient and kind. You’re always explaining things to me, and telling me stories. You help me when I’m mad at my homework or miss a stitch while sewing. You’re always thinking of new games to play, you read me books and take me out into the town for a day of fun! And you always save some of your peas from dinner for the ducks in the pond. You claim it’s because you hate vegetables but really it’s because you know it’s their favorite snack.

“But as much as you teach,” Elsa continued, the snowball spinning and sparking, “you also listen. You know everybody in the whole castle’s birthday. A sailor told you that he always missed the baker’s lun epleterte when he was out at sea, and now the baker always has extra when he sees that ship come home. Kai mentioned once that his favorite flowers hadn’t bloomed yet in the garden so you staked out the hedge for weeks. The moment they bloomed you ran to go find him, a few flowers already in your hands. You’re very-,” Elsa paused, her hands stopping too. Her lips twitched in annoyance. “I don’t know the word. But you know people and you care about them, and I think that would make you a great queen.”

The little snowball shrunk and disappeared, returning the room to the flickering patterns of pinks, blues, and greens of the Lights. Anna propped her head and elbow up on her thigh. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not really interested, and even if I were, I still couldn’t.”

Elsa waved her hand dismissively. “When I’m queen I’ll just make you queen too.”

Anna scoffed, though not without humor. “That’s not how it works.”

“Says who? I’ll be queen! Who’s gonna say no?” Elsa barreled on, not waiting for Anna’s response. “It’ll be perfect: I’ll be Queen, you’ll be Royal-Big-Sister-Queen, and then you and I can both do whatever we want! We’ll be perfect together!”

“‘Royal-Big-Sister-Queen’? That’s not a thing.”

“It will be,” Elsa replied confidently. Anna exhaled heavily, a smile on her lips. Elsa noticed her lack of enthusiasm. “Okay, I’ll work on a better title but…, I just don’t want people thinking that you’re not part of my family.”

Anna’s eyes softened. “C’mere you.”

Elsa kicked off her covers, grabbed the stuffed penguin Anna had made for her fourth birthday, and ran on bare feet to Anna’s bedside. She lifted her arms and Anna picked her up, nestling her close. “It will never matter what other people say about me, because I know that the family that chose me, and that I choose right back everyday, loves me very much, and just wants me to be happy.”

Anna ran her pinkie softly down the bridge of Elsa’s nose. Her little sister blinked drowsily when Anna did it again. “What do you think about that?” She asked quietly.

“I think… you’re my best friend-older sister,” Elsa said softly as sleep dragged at her, “who tries to put her cold feet on my back when we sleep together, always forgetting that I can’t feel the cold.”

Anna chuckled low in her chest. “And I think you are my sweet-but-silly little sister,” she replied, tweaking Elsa’s nose which made her giggle, “who is always stealing the blankets despite claiming she’s never cold, leaving me to freeze to death.”

Elsa cuddled closer to Anna, yawning fiercely. “I promise I’ll share them tonight. Pre-Queen’s honor.”

Anna put a hand to her chest. “That’s a big promise, your Almost-Majesty. How do you know you’ll keep it?”

Elsa already had her eyes closed and her head on Anna’s pillow. “Because I love you.”

Anna smiled warmly. She scooched lower and drew the covers up over her shoulder, planting a kiss on Elsa’s forehead as she got settled.

“I love you too. And I still will, even when I wake up tomorrow and all the covers are on your side of the bed.”

-------------

Elsa never did come up with a better title for Anna’s rise to royalty. Not that she didn’t have time; to most people three years is quite the span, but for children and young adults it may well have been the blink of an eye. And it certainly felt like no time at all when Kai knocked on their door, parchment in hand and tears in his eyes, to deliver the news that their parents had died at sea.

Anna was eighteen, and Elsa, heir to the throne, only eight.

The funeral was delayed until proper mourning attire could be fashioned for such young women. The headstones were grand but simple. After the rain and the prayers, Anna and Elsa walked back to their room, silent. Anna worked on autopilot: helping Elsa disrobe, comb out her hair, put her in sleepwear. Until she felt the ghost of a memory, not long past, of her hugging the queen and king around the waist, expressing her wish to see them soon. The last time she’d ever touched them.

She heard Elsa sniffle beneath her hand, and caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. Tears dripped out of red-rimmed eyes as Elsa’s hard fought composure (already so heavy for a child) fell apart at Anna’s momentary lapse in normality. Then they were holding each other close, fingers digging into clothing and faces pressed close together.

They slept in the same bed for months.

But during that time an uncomfortable question arose. One that, out of respect for tradition, should have waited, but realistically speaking, couldn’t.

Who was in charge now?

Obviously no one expected an eight-year-old to be officially running a country, especially since her Coronation Day was over a decade away. And while Elsa had already Ascended to ruling status, legally she wasn’t making the rules, and it couldn’t be advisors forever. Especially not after the period of mourning, which at max placed Elsa at twelve. She would be involved in ongoing diplomatic and national matters of course, as she would have been anyway, though now to a larger degree, but the fact of the matter was that Elsa was a child.

She still had a bedtime.

And it couldn’t be Anna… could it? She had the training, the disposition. Even if she’d never desired it personally, could she be persuaded to step up, even if it was, in the end, invisibly? The advisors knew that generally speaking, the people of Arendelle would not turn their backs on Anna being their ruler in Elsa’s place, but politically, they felt the pressure of putting the correct outward face on their country.

Anna walked past two advisors, picking holes in the same arguments she’d heard for weeks, and closed her ears to it all. If they --the crown, the staff, the castle-- needed her help, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but right now, she was more concerned with the remaining family she had left.

Namely, finding her before her upcoming royal duties.

They were starting slow. A few of the old guardsmen had retired, and today was their replacement’s first day on the job. Elsa, as queen, was supposed to formally greet them and thank them for their service. Fairly straightforward, all things considered, but Anna had seemingly lost track of Elsa after breakfast and between a few meetings of her own, and now was looking for her little sister.

Well, she was pretending to look. Anna knew exactly where to find her sister, but she gathered that, with all the fuss over dress and ceremony, Elsa may want just a few extra seconds to be alone, not being touched by people’s hands or her hair pulled by combs or set in tight braids and buns along her head.

But they couldn’t delay forever. Anna tapped a special rhythm on the door to their room, hearing a muted, “Come in!” from the other side.

As she entered, Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

Elsa was dressed like, well…

She looked just like Mama.

“Gerda says if I keep my steps high, I won’t trip on my cape,” Elsa said, spinning to show off the purple floor length cape. “But I can’t walk normally if I do that, I look like a puffed up frog!”

A little tiara nestled in her snow-blonde hair bounced light around the room as Elsa shifted. A fleck caught in Anna’s eye and she blinked harshly, bringing her back to the moment.

“Good thing you only have to walk a few feet,” Anna agreed, closing the door behind her and striding up to her sister. “You’ll be the best dressed frog in the room.”

Elsa folded her arms and scowled, looking very queenly indeed. “I’m surprised you’re the one saying that, considering what you’re wearing today,” and she gestured up and down at her sister.

It was true, Anna was wearing a dress that was almost entirely green from top to bottom, excluding the bodice which was black. The pleats of her skirt were alternating shades of green, the only spots of color otherwise being the rosemaling against the black silk on her chest and abdomen. Anna looked down then back up, and grinned. “I guess you’re right. You’ll have to teach me how to walk then. Does it look something like this?”

She marched dramatically in place, all high knees and right angled elbows, a look of comic determination on her face. To her delight, and relief, Elsa burst into giggles. She held her two gloved hands up in front of her mouth.

That was the Elsa she knew.

“You’re going to embarrass me, Anna,” Elsa laughed.

“Lucky for me, that’s the older sibling’s job.” Anna put her hands on her hips. “Ready to go?”

Elsa’s smile dropped, looking down at her outfit. “I look like I am.”

Anna crouched down to be level with Elsa. “You certainly do,” she said softly. “You look beautiful. But I asked if you were ready.” Elsa didn’t meet her eye, instead fidgeting with her hands and wringing the soft blue leather of her gloves.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be,” Elsa confessed, downcast.

Anna acknowledged that with a little hum. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time. But I think that’s okay too, it just means you’re still willing to learn. And you know, you’re not alone. You’ve got Kai and Gerda and all the staff, you’ve got the tutors and experts and all the other adults that know what to do. And, you know,” Anna shrugged, “you’ve got me, too. So I’m pretty sure it won’t be a complete disaster.”

Elsa looked up. “Really?”

“Positive,” Anna winked. She pinched her pointer finger and thumb close together. “Just a little one.”

Elsa laughed again and shoved Anna’s hand away. “Okay, okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“After you,” Anna said grandly, opening the door wide for Elsa with a sweeping bow. Elsa shook her head, then squared her shoulders and tilted her chin back, adopting the posture she’d learned over many lessons of how to walk like a queen. Anna sheltered the little spark of pride inside her heart, and the flicker of sadness that came along with it.

They started to make their way down the long hall, Anna a step behind to Elsa’s right, as was expected. As they neared the halfway point, Elsa’s pace slowed, and Anna noticed immediately.

She tapped Elsa on the shoulder and gently took her hand.

Elsa glanced ahead and behind furtively. “I… shouldn’t.”

“I know but, you don’t have to be ‘Queen-queen’ until we turn that corner, so…” Anna ran her thumb across the back of Elsa’s gloved hand, “You can keep holding my hand until then.”

Elsa squeezed back. “And after that? Where will you be?”

Anna beamed.

“Right next to you. And after that? Wherever you need me to be.”

[owlheartt]

Star Sanses Extended, Chapter 2: Underfell

Dream continues training Papyrus until Ink prompts them to stop for lunch. And then do not end up at the timeline Dream and Papyrus wanted to. (link to Chapter 1 on AO3)

Dream continued coaching Papyrus for the next few hours, with Ink interrupting at random moments. Sometimes he gave good advice, like stick with the group no matter what lure-tactics are used. But most of the time, Ink just prattled on about random things. Dream, on the other hand, was focused. He had a set mind and layed out goals and lists. He showed Papyrus how his magic worked and even prompted Ink to give an example. Ink just drew a tree. Admittedly, Ink’s tree came to life, and it was identical to a real one (the neon coloring being an exception).

Dream’s magic was the embodiment of joy, and it enchanted Papyrus.

“IT’S SO BRIGHT!” Papyrus exclaimed. He couldn’t help gushing over the glowing gold. The magic itself made Papyrus happy, and he wanted to be near it forever.

“Yea. My… Nightmare hates it.” Dream said. He looked a little distant.

“NIGHTMARE IS THE LEADER OF THE BAD SANSES, CORRECT?” Papyrus had been working very hard on memorizing what Dream had been explaining, and it felt good to be able to connect the dots like that.

“Yes! He’s my opposite, and his magic embodies negativity.” Dream said. Papyrus didn’t like how sad the yellow skeleton looked. Despite the joy Dream represented, he hardly ever looked happy himself. At least, he hadn’t in the few hours Papyrus had known him. Maybe today was just long. It must be stressful to switch out one of his team mates. Maybe he was worried that Papyrus would trip them up.

“HAVE NO FEAR! I CAN HANDLE IT. ESPECIALLY WITH THE JOY YOU BRING!” Papyrus placed his hands on his hips, and stood boldly. It was his hero pose that he practiced every morning in the mirror. Sans didn’t know that of course, and just thought that Papyrus came that great.

“I-” Dream cut himself off and squinted a little at Papyrus. “Thanks. This feels a lot like when I met Blue for the first time.” Dream smiled (genuinely, this time), and Papyrus got a taste of how much Dream loved his friends. It felt a lot like how much he loved Sans and Undyne. Maybe… maybe someday Dream would love him the same way.

“YOU’RE WELCOME! NOW, YOU WERE SAYING ABOUT YOUR MAGIC?” Papyrus said.

“Oh, right! I can also spread-” Dream began.

“Hiiiiiss HAPPY BUBBLE!!!” Ink exclaimed, slamming into Dream and wrapping an arm around him. Dream yelped as he was squashed against his considerably smaller friend.

“HAPPY BUBBLE?” Papyrus loved listening to all of Dream’s carefully worded explanations. None of it was ever condescending or confusing, and as the day had gone on it became easier and easier to ask questions.

“I have an aura I can spread.” Dream sat down, forcing the still-attached Ink to plop down with him. Papyrus followed, hitting the soft ground. The grass bent beneath him, and it felt itchy even through his clothes. “It makes the beings near me feel better. Ink calls it my Happy Bubble. The larger the bubble, the more effort it takes to upkeep. Mine tend to extend 7 feet, tops. It makes me nervous to use more magic than that.”

“AH, I SEE. CAN NIGHTMARE DO THE SAME?” Papyrus asked. Dream nodded.

“He doesn’t do it often though, it doesn’t benefit him. We both draw magic from nearby emotions, and artificially made ones don’t do anything for us.”

“Hey, I’m hungry!” Ink said, drawing away from Dream.

“Not now, Ink. Paper and I are busy.” Dream said, sighing.

“No like, it’s past noon. We haven’t had lunch.” Ink said, frowning. He switched to a playful grin and threw his hand over his head dramatically before adding, “We’re going to waste away!!”

“I INVITE YOU ALL TO MY HOUSE. I’M SURE THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE FRIDGE WE COULD HAVE!!” Papyrus said, standing right back up. He didn’t like sitting for long. Or, sitting at all, really. Felt… lazy. “OR IF WE NEED TO STAY HERE..?”

“No, not at all! We can keep tabs on the Multiverse from wherever. Ink, if you wouldn’t mind,” Dream turned toward Ink who had already splashed, well, ink all over the ground. Oddly enough, it looked more like a slab. It didn’t have single pieces of grass sticking up and out of it, and the surface was flat. Ink snached Papyrus and Dream’s hands with a little more urgency than Papyrus thought necessary. Of course, with how unpredictable Ink was, there was the chance it was just him being him.

Traveling through one of Ink’s shortcuts was different from Dream’s. The yellow magic was more like a snap, quick and efficient. Ink’s was… more leisurely. Just by a little bit, but it was still noticeable. Rather than the distinct tug on his SOUL, when he transitioned from the orange place to the new timeline it felt more like he had slid down a slide. He was pulled, but in a rather inviting way.

Looking up and around, Papyrus noticed that they were standing in Hotland, not far from Alphys’s lab. Except it felt as off-putting as when he had met Blueberry for the first time. It was Hotland… but not quite. Papyrus decided to give it the benefit of the doubt though, especially as it looked roughly the same as his Hotland, and he didn’t want to be rude.

“...AH, MY HOME IS THIS WAY.” Papyrus said, and began to march off toward Waterfell.

“Your home? Why does that matter?” Ink said. Papyrus turned around to see him tilting his head.

“Ink, don’t tell me you took us to the wrong timeline.” Dream said. From his expression, Papyrus could guess that this had happened before.

“Wrong timeline? For what?” The most frustrating part about this (in Papyrus’s fantastic opinion), was that it was impossible to tell if Ink was genuinely asking.

“FOR LUNCH. I WAS BRINGING YOU ALL TO MY HOUSE.” Papyrus said, as calmly as he could muster. Ink thought a bit before responding.

“Oh cool! Lunch sounds good. If we could take care of Error first though that’d be great.” Ink said it nonchalantly, but Dream’s eye sockets went wide open.

“...Error?” Dream said.

“Yea why?”

“WHO’S ERROR?” Papyrus didn’t like being kept in the dark.

“Error... is another destroyer of timelines.” Dream said slowly, and Papyrus could see how much effort he was putting into keeping a level tone. “He’s Ink’s nemesis, you could say. He doesn’t really work with the Bad Sanses, but he poses roughly the same threat.” Between the gritted teeth and the vibrating eye lights Papyrus got the general sense that Dream was Not Ok. So he took the one obvious solution and scooped his two new friends up.

“WHERE TO?” Papyrus said, determined. He was going to go and make sure that Error didn’t hurt anyone.

“Why, did you, pick us, up?!?” Dream said breathily, sounding enormously alarmed.

“WOO!! Free ride!” Ink said over him. He wiggled out of Papyrus’s grip and scrambled up him, clinging onto Papyrus like a baby Koala. “That way!!” Ink pointed directly to Alphys’s lab, where Papyrus could hear some banging and clashing now that he was focusing on it.

Papyrus ran straight for the lab, throwing out a foot to smash open the door. Quite a grand entrance if he could say so himself. The room he had burst into, on the other hand, was a mess. There was an assortment of computer bits strewn across the floor, and there was a big computer that had fallen over. Papyrus believed that his Alphys had a similar computer. Undyne had mentioned it once or twice. Of course, it was safe to assume Alphys’s was upright, but he had never been in Alphys’s lab before.

Speaking of Alphys, she was standing in a crouched position near the computer. She had her hands thrown out, as if she had hoped to stop the chaos happening but couldn’t figure out how. Her head was flipping from side to side, looking all around the room desperately, throwing her glasses half off her face. Papyrus had seen a picture of Alphys and Undyne together, and was sure that Alphys looked nothing like this. This Alphys had foggy, spiral glasses, and her outfit under the lab coat was a vibrant red and black.

There were three other monsters in the room, having a stand off in the middle of the debris. Undyne, Mettaton, and… oh dear goodness, was that Sans? Undyne and Mettaton were styled similarly to Alphys, in bright reds and pitch blacks, and they both looked… well, a lot edgier. And stronger. Then there was this Sans. He was a lot more committed to the, ah, black look. His bones themselves were a solid black, to the point that the dim, flickering lights in the lab were just absorbed into him, like a black hole. His eyelights were different sizes and colors, and he looked like he needed someone to talk to. There were glitches all along him, some just as rectangles, others saying ERROR. This Sans felt… surreal. And like he was hurting.

It took all of Papyrus’s willpower to focus on what Dream had been telling him, and not prepare a speech for this Sans. He had to trust that Blueberry knew what he was doing, and had already tried. Well, maybe not for this Sans. Maybe Dream would let him-

Ink launched himself off of Papyrus, rolling along the floor before leaping up and skidding to a halt in front of the glitching Sans.

“Ink?!” Even this Sans’s voice was glitching.

“Heya Glitchy!! Aww, come on! Were you seriously attacking these poor monsters?” Ink sounded completely unphased, barely throwing a glance at said ‘poor monsters.’

“WHAT?” The Undyne roared. She looked mean, and mad. “He killed Papyrus, so this damn fight is mine, I already need robotics over here to leave, don’t make me force you out too!” Killed… him? Papyrus? No wonder Undyne was mad. Oh, what about Sans? Papyrus knew that Sans was going through things, and he needed Papyrus to help make sure he kept going. Had this Papyrus made it into the guard? Or were his life long dreams gone? Maybe he didn’t dream of being a Royal Guardsman. What had he dreamed of? Did he ever make it? What was he leaving behind? As if sensing his thoughts, Dream snapped in front of his face, bringing him back.

“Hey- Paper! If we can stop this fight and convince Error to leave, then we can RESET the timeline! I can’t explain right now, but just know that we can undo what Error has done.” Dream said. “Also please-put-me-down-I-have-to-go-help-Ink-because-he-will-get-himself-killed,” the golden skeleton added in a rush. Papyrus set Dream down before glancing around the room again. The angry triad of monsters all seemed to be getting more aggressive with Ink himself, but Alphys just looked conflicted. With Dream heading to Ink, Papyrus felt inclined to go help Alphys. She was having a smaller problem, but smaller problems tend to get overlooked. If the Great Papyrus didn’t help her, then who would? Undyne might, but she was busy right then.

“ALPHYS?” Papyrus asked her, as gently as he could. “ARE YOU HURT?” Alphys jerked, finally sending her glasses flying. She glared at Papyrus, with small, squinting eyes.

“I’m f-fine, th-tha-thank you-ou. F-fuck o-off.” She growled. Did she just- no matter. Papyrus was ok being the bigger monster (especially because he literally was), and he could move past it. When Alphys turned to start feeling through the debri for her glasses, Papyrus took one big step and picked them up, calmly and maturely handing them to her. “I d-d-don’t need-d h-help!!! I t-t-told y-you, fuck. Off.” She said, adjusting her glasses so that she could see again. Then her jaw dropped open.

“IS THAT BETTER, FRIEND?” Papyrus tried placing an emphasis on ‘friend,’ hoping that Alphys would understand that he only wanted to help.

“P-P-Pap-Papyrus?” Alphys’s stutter only seemed to be getting worse.

“YES, THAT’S ME!! BUT YOU CAN CALL ME PAPER.” Papyrus added, remembering that this timeline had a Papyrus already… it also began to dawn on him that this timeline’s Papyrus had died. Died, what an unsettling concept.

“B-b-b-but,” Alphys said, her eyes wide. “B-b-but y-you-you’re d-d-dust..?”

“I’M… NOT YOUR PAPYRUS.” Papyrus smiled gently. “I’M SORRY.” He added.

“I- th-then wh-wh-who a-are y-you?” Alphys tried to organize herself, her eyes flitting around the room nervously.

“CALL ME PAPER. I’M HERE TO HELP! I’M STILL LEARNING WHAT TO DO THOUGH, SO MY FRIENDS ARE THE ONES WHO ARE REALLY GOING TO HELP!” Papyrus was really good at admitting when he didn’t know enough. Not knowing was frustrating, but no one could know everything. And if you can’t admit that you need help, how could you get better?

“W-we d-d-don’t n-need he-help.” Alphys said, her voice regaining the steely tone she had used earlier. She narrowed her eyes at Papyrus, and the only hint that she was nervous was the way she fiddled with her hands.

“EVERYONE NEEDS HELP, IT’S OK TO ACCEPT IT.” Papyrus said, trying his hardest to sound the exact opposite of the red Alphys. It was hard to figure out if this was just what Alphys was like, or if it was the whole Universe. If Undyne’s stories were anything to go off of, it was the Universe.

“Y-you r-really ar-aren’t P-P-Papyrus.” Alphys said with an accusatory tone. Her words helped solidify the idea that it was the Universe itself.

“ARE YOU OK?” Papyrus decided to skip over all the bickering. He was sure Dream and Ink could use his help, but no matter how Alphys was acting it was important not to leave her hanging.

“I-I-I’m fine.” She said, scowling.

“JUST IN CASE, MAY I CHECK YOUR SOUL?” Papyrus said, almost certain of her answer.

“N-no, g-g-go a-away.” Alphys said.

“AH, ALRIGHT. PLEASE STAY BACK HERE, I DON’T WANT YOU GETTING HURT.” Papyrus said, turning. Alphys seemed even more offended by his statement, but Papyrus couldn’t figure out why. He was just caring for her, after all.

“I-I’m st-staying b-b-back here b-but o-only because I w-want to!!!” Alphys said, raising her voice a little and scrunching up her eyes. Papyrus nodded absently, turning himself towards the battle he had been ignoring.

Undyne’s spears littered the wall and floor, one with it’s sharp point missing. Ink was tied up in blue strings high above the floor, his brush hanging precariously. Papyrus would go and help, but Ink was too high up to reach. Dream’s clothes were a little torn, and he had a bow with a yellow arrow nocked. His aim was switching around the circle, which gave Papyrus the impression that everyone was a threat. Maybe… maybe if he talked to Undyne she would be willing to step back.

“Where’s your blue friend, dreamy?” Error said. His words were as glitchy as his body, and they seemed to have a background noise of static. He had an edge to his voice not unlike the Alphys of this timeline, but it sounded cockier. Error’s eyelights flitted to Papyrus, and his superior grin swapped to a frown before he smiled cruelly again. “What, is this your replacement?” Error cackled, throwing his head back.

Dream stole a quick glance at Papyrus, seemingly involuntary. Undyne and Mettaton stayed focused on the others. Papyrus crept up to Undyne, and tapped her shoulder just as she seemed to brace herself to throw another spear. She whipped around, her irritation etched across her face.

“WHA-” Undyne stopped half-turn, seeing who had tapped her. Her half-formed spear dropped, shattering on the tiled floor. Sounding a lot smaller and a bit sad, she whispered. “Papyrus?”

“HELLO FRIEND. I AM NOT YOUR PAPYRUS.” Papyrus said, reaching up to wrap his hand around her shoulder, trying to be as comforting as he could. Papyrus caught Dream’s eye socket, and saw him smile gratefully before shifting back to Error. Undyne, on the other hand, quickly switched her expression. Her face snapped into a snarl, and she reached up to smack Papyrus’s hand away.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!” She yelled at him, spears forming above her head. At first glance, they looked strong and dangerous. But when Papyrus looked closer, he could see how thin the magic looked. Undyne didn’t want to fight him. “YOU’RE NOT PAPYRUS, AND PAPYRUS WOULD NEVER BE WEAK ENOUGH TO SHOW AFFECTION.” Undyne put emphasis on ‘affection’ like it was something evil, unwanted. How wrong that felt.

“LOVE IS NOT WEAK. AND I’M NOT YOUR PAPYRUS. PLEASE WAIT FOR ME TO EXPLAIN.” Papyrus kept his voice level, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Undyne just made more spears.

“Not my Papyrus?! HA!! How dumb do you think I AM?!?! There’s only ONE Papyrus, and you sure as hell aren’t him!” Undyne sneered. The spears came down, and Papyrus had to throw up a bone shield. More spears missed his shield than he would’ve expected to, although he knew Undyne’s control was never as good as Papyrus’s (his was far too good to live up to).

“PLEASE WAIT FOR AN EXPLANATION!!” Papyrus turned his bones blue so that he could see Undyne. She was still growling, her brow deeply furrowed.

“Why should I speak to you?! It doesn’t matter who you are, just that you’re IMPERSONATING MY-” Undyne cut herself off. She hesitated, spears pausing and angry mask barely breaking.

“YOUR FRIEND?” Papyrus offered. Friends were important. Just like family. Papyrus knew that Undyne was important to him and vice versa in his universe, so it would make sense that it would be the same in this one, despite everyone’s bizarre personality.

“NO!!! Friends are WEAK and PATHETIC. I was GOING TO SAY my BEST GUARD!” Undyne shouted, squeezing her eyes shut. Papyrus removed his shield, and brought up blue bones around Undyne, close enough that she couldn’t use her hands to help her summon magic. Papyrus saw her eyes shoot open with shock and he saw her reach to move.

“BLUE MEANS STOP.” He said calmly. “LET ME HELP FIX WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE, AND WE CAN MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER.”

[jjpmoans]

painting the galaxy | ijb

w.c : 2.6k+

a/n : Happy Birthday to my one and only ice princess @fairygyeom​. I am sorry that I have to put this one up late, I explained it to you earlier. It’s 1.22 am on 29th May but I wished you before 28th ended sooo I hope this one is validd! I hope you like it and it serves a good gift for you. I am thankful to have you in my life. Happy Birthday clingy baby! Hope you have a blast birthday!!

“You’re late.”

“I know.”

“And it’s my birthday.”

“I know that too.”

You hate the fact that he sounded not apologetic at all. Being late is actually forgivable since you know his job needs him to put people first but sometimes it would be nice to know that he actually feels sorry for being late on your birthday date. It’s a special day for you, not because it’s your birthday but because you’d spend it with him.

That’s what makes it special.

Jaebeom knows too much about you. He knows when you’re hungry, your face will scrunch upward and you’ll be more demanding, though you usually demand him to hurry up so you can go out to eat. He also knows that when you’re truly happy, the corner of your eyes narrows and your smile – you still wonder how he thinks that is genuine -  is when your cheeks bounce up and almost shut your eyes.

And he knows when you’re sad or disappointed, you will try not to show it for the sake of him; you care less if it’s about others, but you will refuse to look at him and appear to be not shaken. He knows you inside and out, it is scary to have someone knowing too much about you.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking yours with his and offers you a bright smile. “What are you being sad for?”

He tries to pat your hair but you quickly duck your head to avoid him. You wanted him to know that you’re a tad bit hurt when he doesn’t feel remorse for his action.

Though it has been only ten minutes while you wait for him, you can’t help but be jealous of couples passing by you. But who you are to blame, this spot is crowded with couples. The street is so lively even on weekdays night, making you sigh even more. It must be hard to get seats to dine in.

A kiss lands on your cheeks, making your eyes go wide, whipping your head to him in a second. There he is, still smiling; grinning even.

“There, there my ice princess. The ice is going to melt at this rate. Forgive me and don’t be sad. It’s your birthday!” you know he’s putting effort to make you feel better. And like you said, you’re not that mad. Nothing that Jaebeom can’t fix.

“Fine.” You grumble, not wanting to be seen so cheap for being able to change mood in one second. However, Jaebeom laughs at that, of course you will be such a baby. His baby.

“Let me make up to you okay?” he whips out a pamphlet; you have no idea what the pamphlet is about but you doubt it is a vacation pamphlet. When he gives it to you, your eyes go wide as you read the title.

“Princess’s Day”

By yours truly, Jaebeommie.

You snort upon seeing his cute nickname. He rarely- almost never – wanted to use that cute nickname. Usually it took a lot of convincing and whining to get him to use the name.

“Hmm, Jaebeommie?” his breath hitches, sighing as you caught the name. He grins half-heartedly, allowing you to know the extra efforts he did for your day.

“I made an exception. You can call me Jae-“ he takes in a deep breath and through gritted teeth, he mumbles a quick jaebeommie, and blinks his eyes rapidly for you. “and I will be your tour guide today.”

“Today is ending in four hours.” true, because he is late, your day has shortened from six hours to four. He knows better though, ringing you up two hours before 6pm, letting you know that he was going to get off work pretty later. “And we are going to…six places? Jaebeommie, this is too much for dinner, don’t you think so?”

You giggle as he flinches every time you say his name, partly because he was so annoyed by the nickname. He earned it when Jinyoung was teasing him for being recklessly jealous of your male friends and he went home annoyed even more when you told him off for being jealous. It is lucky that he lets you use the name, however that can’t erase the fact that he hated being called cute.

“Also, we are late already so I don’t know if we can have the seats. We can only go up to four places,” you ramble, opening the pamphlet to see more activities planned by him. “Stargazing!? When- oh lord Jaebeom we don’t have time!”

You opted to cross out places to visit in order to fit the stargazing into the schedule. He can list all the things but you are really excited for the last activity. If you go later than midnight, the stars might not even be there anymore.

Jaebeom chuckles behind you and you huff, annoyed by his still cold demeanour. He has the audacity to laugh at your panic state!?

As soon as he feels your burning stares, he plucks the pamphlet off your hand and tug you to walk with him. “First off, we are going to visit all the places tonight. No exception.”

“Secondly, I don’t want you to look at your watch every five minutes because you thought we would miss the stargazing.” He sees your pout and he shakes his head, “nuh-uh. Not even a glance.”

“Which is why,” he tugs your handbag and goes through it, “I am confiscating your phone.”

“What- Jaebeom!”

He hisses and you give up wrestling with him, looking sadly at your phone that was taken away. “You only have four hours with me, princess. What is more important than spending it all with me?”

Okay, that is true. Honestly you don’t have anyone texting you. Even if you do, you can read it later. Tonight it is all about celebrating your birthday with Jaebeom. If he wants your sole attention on him, well he doesn’t have to. Your attention is all on him.

“Now, I’m sure that the little monster in you needs to be fed.” You scowl at that, even if it’s true, he doesn’t have to say that out loud. Jaebeom laughs in return, leading you to the brightly light-up street. “Let’s start our date.”

Your first stop is a barbecue restaurant. You manage to get a seat; which later you find out that he has reserved the place beforehand. He should have, really, because the first time your eyes land on the pamphlet, you’ve been eyeing the barbecue place for ever.

You love meat. Jaebeom knows it too. Hence when you stuff in more and more meat inside your mouth, Jaebeom can’t help but to laugh after your attempt to shove in a lettuce as well. “Slow down, oh god. We are not rushing. Eat slowly.”

Jaebeom mainly works as the griller, an expert one. He arranges them in a partition so you have all kinds of meat on the grill in one go. Back when you first met, he grilled them one batch per session, making you mad when you wanted to try the other meat but it was still uncooked.

Jaebeom learnt his lesson though. His princess can be a little monster when it comes to food.

“Is it good?” he asks as you dunk your last drink. You nod enthusiastically, happy that you’re full. Eating barbecues is all about arrangement. You have to eat as much as you can without drinking. Because as soon as you start drinking, you will start feeling full when it’s just water filling you up. And it will be a waste to pay so much just to fill your stomach with water.

Next on the pamphlet says a walk along the street. Jaebeom forces you to walk, saying that you need to burn all the food you’ve eaten so you can get side foods later. You grumble in annoyance but still enjoy walking, because it’s with him.

Both of your working life takes the excitement away from you. Jaebeom with his patients and you with your own work. It is rare for you to take a walk, a date even. Whenever you have time, you’ll spend it inside where you will cuddle and stick to each other until Jaebeom’s phone rings for his service.

Walking with Jaebeom is everything you’ve ever imagined. His calloused hands hold your waist, keeping you close to his side. Everytime your eyes linger a bit longer than intended on some things, he will stop and drag you into the shop even if you refuse. He is so soft for his lover.

And you’re lucky to have him by your side.

The first time you agreed to date him, you were conflicted. You’re clingy, with cherry on top. What if you get so clingy that you can’t understand the nature of his work? What if he fought with you because he got tired of needing to choose between you and work?

“Hey.” Jaebeom nudges your cheeks with his nose. You’ve never been a fan of skinships but Jaebeom? Oh the things you’d do for Jaebeom. “Want to get those ice creams and choco shake?”

Jaebeom knows everything about you. He knows when you need energy, chocolate drinks will do it. If you are sad, chocolates will solve it. If he makes you sad, chocolate will help him.

It has been a part of your life. You and chocolates are inseparable, not even Jaebeom would win over chocolate. However, he could win you with chocolate.

“This is sooo yummy!” you hum as the cold ice cream melts in your mouth, relishing the taste over and over again. “Jaebeommie, aaaaaahh?”

Jaebeom, even though embarrassed that a few people are looking in your direction, still accepts a large scoop of chocolate flavoured ice cream – mind you it’s Baskin Robbins, who can say no? – and hides his face in embarrassment. Oh lord the things he would dumbly do for you.

“Careful.” He hoists you up the hill, your heavy breathing fills the silent night. After going to some arcade and Jaebeom got fed up when he lost a few games to you, you end up getting fast food and hop on his car to the last place.

Stargazing.

As soon as you manage to catch your breath and stand straight, your head tips to the sight of the galaxy spread in front of you. You’re breathless again, at a mere sight of stars and astrology that you don’t even understand such a beauty exists.

Jaebeom carefully brings you to the closest spot you can go and spreads the mat open to place all the food and drinks you’ve gotten.

“Jaebeom, this is so pretty.” You whisper. You don’t know why you whisper, it’s as if the stars will wake up if you talk too loud. You don’t want them to disappear. No, not yet. “Oh, look!”

He takes a seat behind you, caging you between his legs. He becomes the bigger spoon, resting his chin on your shoulder while watching you still in awe with the beauty of nature.

Jaebeom likes this. Away from work that holds him from meeting you every time he wants to. Being together with this. This is all he ever wanted.

He sneaks a hand around your waist and you squeal as he pulls you nearer, dropping a soft kiss on your cheek. He told you before, cheek’s kiss is what he lives for. He believes that your cheeks hold overloading cuteness and he feels happy whenever he manages to drop your cheek a kiss. Mainly because you hated people playing with your cheek, let alone kissing it.

“I love you.” He mutters.

You know. If he doesn’t, he won’t take a day off for you. Tomorrow is supposed to be his day off, but he’s taking off work early starting today. He wants to spend more time with you, precisely.

“I know.”

You rub his hand, the warmth emitting from him is one of a kind. You won’t find it anywhere else.

The warm, comforting warmth.

“What do you want for your birthday gift?” as he asks, you frown in confusion. You literally have gotten all your birthday gifts, his time, his effort and he, himself.

What else would you want?

So in return, you shake your head. You can feel his smile forming at the back of your head, pressing his nose further to take in the scent of your hair. You’re serious, there is nothing you would ask anymore.

He fumbles with his pocket and when you tore your sight away from the bright sky, you’re met with a shiny ring right in front of your eyes.

You jolt, turning in Jaebeom’s embrace to stare at him in surprise. Of course, he did not expect for you to be that shocked, but judging from your reaction, you’re a hundred percent confused.

He plucks the ring out of the box, pulling your hand towards him. “This is a promise ring.”

You gape as you heard the name of the ring – honestly you don’t know that is a thing.

“This promise ring can give different meaning. I promise to be loyal.” He stops, looking at you in the eye. “I promise to love you, always.”

“I promise this heart only belongs to you.”

“I read somewhere that promise ring is given when it’s too soon to get married but you’re not ready for engagement.” Jaebeom smiles fondly. “I am absolutely not against engagement but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You shake your head. Indeed, engagement and marriage are far-fetched for now. You still have work to synchronise and your life is still a mess. Well you shall start with that first.

“But I want to show you that I’ve been serious for you. That this ring shall promise you that I am always here, always loving you.”

“There are times when we may have got into fights and you may have resented me. But as long as this ring is still there, I promise you we will fix it.”

He slides the ring to your ring finger, fitting nicely while caressing your cheeks as tears start to form at the corner of your eye. The ring has no diamond, only empty round shape, of course with small diamonds around it; as if the empty space will be fitted by another diamond ring.

“When it’s time for us to get married, I will complete this ring with a diamond ring. Which is why it is called a promise ring.”

“This ring promises you that my heart here,” he points to his chest, “beats for non-other than you.”

You blush, melting at his words. His strong gaze completely captured you and now his words, your heart runs a thousand mile. “You’re so cheesy, Jaebeommie.”

He smiles at your comment, eyes sparkling mirroring the stars. “Happy Birthday, my ice princess.”

Leaning slowly, he captures your lips, perfectly moulding yours with his. Fireworks start going off in your mind, the feeling of his soft lips nibbles at your lower lips makes your stomach flips. Jaebeom deepens the kiss, holding your head in place while he continues his subtle bites on your own.

Jaebeom pulls back, searching for your eyes. He is met with teary, red eyes, which promises to only look at him.

“Happy birthday my clingy baby.” You shake your head in disapproval but Jaebeom chuckles, delving into another kiss despite you protesting. Who will you kid, you can’t deny Jaebeom’s kisses. They are precious, they are tempting.

You keep in mind that you will scold him later for calling you a clingy baby, but maybe very much later. Now you need to tend his kisses, the one that paints your own galaxy.

Copyright © 2020 jjpmoans. All rights reserved

[ Writings ]

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 20: Celebrating You

(Click here for chapter 19!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“Hermione, my dear, I keep telling you that you’re getting too thin! Would you like a piece of my famous cinnamon apple pie? It’s fresh out of the oven!”

The young witch smiled. Sitting at the large wooden table in the Burrow’s kitchen, the family’s famous clock ticking away in the background, she was flipping through the morning edition of the Daily Prophet as the Weasley matriarch was busily preparing breakfast for everyone. Coming back had felt like returning home – she had desperately needed some time away from all the N.E.W.T.s pressure at school, and it had been so nice to see the redheaded nonuple in its entirety again. And while she and Ron were still a bit uneasy around each other, they were at least back on speaking terms.

“No, thank you, Mrs Weasley. Personally, seven in the morning is just a bit too early for dessert!”

Hermione turned her attention back to the newspaper in front of her, but she could not seem to focus on the words written there – because the only thing busier than Mrs Weasley’s kitchen was her mind. She could not stop thinking about Professor Snape. The two of them had unarguably got close over the past few months. While he had definitely hated having her as an apprentice at first, it did not seem like that was the case anymore; or at least he did not show it any longer. She could not be sure, of course; but she had the feeling that he enjoyed being around her just as much as she enjoyed being around him.

Though she had initially felt uncertain following her talk with Ginny, she had ultimately decided that she simply could not stay away from the Potions Master. He was her safe space, her rock. Whenever she was around him, she finally felt alive again. A rush of ecstasy would travel through her entire body like wildfire every time he brushed against her or even merely called her by her first name. And so she had come to the conclusion that maybe fancying one of her teachers was not that bad, after all. She obviously knew that nothing would ever come of it, but she figured she could at least enjoy their unlikely companionship while it lasted. Still, she would probably not let her best friend know that she had chosen to disregard her advice.

However, there was one thing that was bothering her. From her apprenticeship application, Hermione knew that it was Professor Snape’s birthday in one week’s time; all possible tutors had been listed with both rank and date of birth. But what made her sad was knowing that no one, not even he himself, would care. With how self-isolated he was, she was certain that there would be no party, no birthday cards and no presents (except for one from Dumbledore, perhaps), and he was worthy so much more than that! He might be kind of a grouch and not the most pleasant teacher, but he was a brilliant man and deserved to have his life celebrated. And after the amazing gift he had sent her for her own birthday, she wanted to give him something in return.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

“Hey, Mrs Weasley?” The older woman turned around, a pan of still sizzling bacon in her hand. “Can I ask you something?”

*************** *************** ***************

If there was one place in the entire castle where you did not want to be during the winter, it was the dungeons. They were already disgustingly cold and permanently damp under normal conditions, but the colder months made them almost unbearable. And so on this particular Friday night in early January, as Severus was working in his classroom, the temperature was so low that he could see his own breath.

He was slowly walking around the room, placing a sheet of paper on each of the student desks one by one. His first class after the weekend would be the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors, and he had prepared an especially difficult surprise exam for them. He obviously knew that none of them had studied for Potions over the holidays, but he did not care – after all, there was a reason for his reputation as the meanest teacher at this school. But always one to favour his own house over those troublesome Gryffindors, he was planning on casually dropping a small hint while conducting his weekly visit of the common room the following day.

Now, one might think that Severus was simply being a very diligent teacher who liked to make sure that all of his tasks were done ahead of time – which was true. But on this specific day, his actions had an added motive as he was trying to distract himself from the fact that today was his 38th birthday.

He had never been one to attach much significance to the date that marked the anniversary of him taking his first breath. Truthfully, he could not remember the last time he had celebrated it; it had always just been a day like any other. But this year, it was different. This year, he had been loathing its arrival. Why? Well, because turning a year older merely served as yet another reminder of how messed up this attraction to his student really was. It pulled him out of a dream world in which he was not her professor, in which he was not a lot older than her and in which he still had a chance to get with her. A twenty-year age gap – how could he not feel like detestable reprobate?

Deep in thought, he startled at a sudden knock at the door.

“Professor!” Sticking her head through the open crack, Hermione immediately started to beam from ear to ear once she spotted him in the poorly lit room. “There you are! You know, after checking your office and your rooms, I almost thought you had vanished into thin air!”

Severus was completely nonplussed. “Wha-”

But before he could even get a proper word in, her head swiftly disappeared behind the door again. After about ten seconds of weird noises and sounds – and even the occasional swearing under breath – the door was pushed open to reveal a party hat wearing Hermione Granger, a lit Muggle sparkler in one hand and a relatively large gift box in the other. Taking five big steps into the room, she arrived in front of him and held out the package with both hands, almost risking setting it ablaze with her hand-held firework.

“Happy, happy birthday, sir!”

The wizard was speechless. He felt like a young pubescent boy all over again as all he could do was stare dumbfounded at this perfect woman standing across from him. After a long day of studying, this wonderful creature had made her way into the glum dungeons to congratulate him, even putting in the effort of wearing one of those ridiculous paper cones on her head. Severus did not know what he had done to deserve her. Just two minutes ago, he had hated himself and the world and had wanted nothing more than for this day to be over. But like the wind, she had swooped in and brightened his day, completely overwhelming him with emotions. The way she was looking at him, full of excitement and joy, and the beautiful colour of her rosy cheeks made his knees weak. Who knew that he would one day find happiness like this in a friend of Harry Potter?

“Come on, open it!”

Her exclamation abruptly brought him back to reality. Trying hard to ignore how inviting her plump lips were looking at that very moment, he accepted the box before replying, “Another gift, Hermione? You really should not start to make a habit of this. Otherwise, some might begin to think that you are trying to bribe your way through school.”

“Oh, stop it!” she called out, the delightful melody of her laughter filling his ears.

“But why would you get me a birthday gift? Apprentices do not have to give their tutors anything; it’s not part of the tradition.”

“I know,” said Hermione as she placed the now burned-out sparkler on the desk next to her. “But I just wanted to.”

Severus felt his heart melting. He truly did not deserve her. She was too good for him, an angel.

Opening the lid of the box with a shaky hand, he pulled out some sort of emerald-coloured piece of fabric.

“What is this?” he asked confused.

“It’s a jumper!” she said, taking the garment from him and holding it out so he could properly see it. Indeed, it was a deep green pullover made of thick wool. “I know you normally only wear black, but I thought that this shade would go well with your light complexion, and it also fits your house colours! So even if you won’t wear it on the daily, it would at least be good for Quidditch games.”

He had to admit that he was amazed by how much thought she had put into this. “Hermione, I appreciate this greatly, but you really should not have spent your money on me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart; however, I cannot accept this gift.”

“But I didn’t spend anything. I made it myself! I asked Mrs Weasley for help as I’m not really acquainted with the art of magical knitting. I didn’t tell her why I wanted to learn it, of course; but you wouldn’t believe how excited she was to pass on her secret housewife tips and tricks to me. I guess that Ginny has always been a little too much of a tomboy for her.” She let out a small snicker.

Severus experienced a warm sensation spread from his middle all the way to his fingers and toes. Not only had she remembered his birthday, but she had also taken time out of her busy day to carefully craft this sweater for him – no one had ever genuinely cared this much for him!

“Hermione.” He had to swallow as it suddenly felt as though he had a frog in his throat. “Would you perhaps like to join me in my quarters for a cup of tea? Plain, of course."

(CHAPTER 21 COMING SOON!)

[crstapor]

Terror White

“You’re either with us or against us.” - George W. Bush


1.

On January 6th, 2021, domestic terrorists invaded the Capital Building in an act of political insurrection. Their intent was to overthrow the will of the people by preventing certification of a free and fair democratic election. They did so at the behest of their political leader (who was impeached a second time for inciting this gross transgression of his oath of office), other voices in their party - the so-called GOP - and talking head agitators inhabiting the far-right media echo chamber. Nearly to a man, a woman, a they, each of these terrorists were white.

Images of ‘good old boys’ traipsing down the halls of the people’s house waving confederate battle flags, kicking feet up on the Speaker’s desk, walking off with public property or smearing their shit on the floors pervaded the internet. These images provided by the villains themselves, posted shamelessly to social media profiles.

As a result of this treasonous, insulting, juvenile, despicable, and ultimately futile effort five people died. Even still, hours after the fact, a majority of members of the so-called GOP voted in accordance with the will of these terrorists. They voted to overturn the results of a free and fair election in the world’s oldest modern democracy. They did so because they believed there were serious ‘concerns’ (‘concerns’, let’s be clear, that started with them and like the Ouroboros, ended up with the confusing, if unhygienic, phenomenon of not knowing where their mouths or assholes ended or began) with the 2020 presidential election. After over 60 court cases arguing that point only one was ruled in their favor. None of the 50 States comprising our union found any evidence of wide-spread fraud. Indeed, a federal agency tasked with monitoring election security stated unequivocally that the presidential election of 2020 was one of the most secure in a generation.

And yet? There they were. Spouting conspiracy theories, assaulting police officers (those stalwart stewards of the ‘law & order’ they otherwise claim to love), brandishing spears and bearskins, stealing mail, leaving death threats to the Vice President, fundamentally acting the fool. A bunch of bullies let out of detention with rage and rebellion on their minds.

Let me be clear: each and every one of these terrorists should be hunted down by law enforcement and charged to the fullest extent of the law. They should then be prosecuted and the judges in each and every case should show or allow no mercy. These barbarians must never be allowed to storm the gates again.

Fine.

But that’s not the really interesting question here. The far-right has been producing assholes forever (one of the few things the ‘right’ is truly consistent at). What’s actually interesting is how these insurrectionists arrived at the conclusions they did. Which is to say; how did their ‘thinking’ bring them to this point.

2.

While it might be tempting for some on the left to see that last sentence as a joke, let’s remember we’re sitting at the adult table. These terrorists, being human, sharing our genetic code, are people - real, live, eating, shitting, fucking, anxious, sleeping, scared, afraid, terrified people - just like you and me. As much as it would be easier if we could see them as Uruk-hai instead of our brothers and sisters, sadly? That’s what they are. Family. Part of the Human Condition.

Though humans that are clearly very, very, very sick. My diagnosis? Mind Cancer. Let me explain, under the assumption my readers understand the difference between mind and brain. As such, I am not asserting that the terrorists are physically sick. From their pics and videos it’s clear many are - obesity, hypertension, anal retention - though that isn’t the point. It’s their mental programming, their minds, that have been infected. Infected with what?

Put simply? A disjointed ontological phenomenology obscured, obfuscated, and accelerated by persistently chaotic epistemological aberrations. Said plainly? Their ability to process reality has been impaired.

Why? Racial resentment, poor economic opportunities, an aversion to books and learning? Yes. All that. Plus? The internet, which has created a new Dark Ages.

Paradoxically, one built on light.

3.

Look. Self-interested demagogues intent on self-aggrandizement are nothing new. Nor are their ability to rally or rile a downtrodden populace. Sadly, demonizing the ‘other’ is also pretty par for the course in these scenarios. An old story, all told. What’s new this time is how it happens.

In a single second - count it out! One Mississippi - a beam, or photon of light moves 186,000 miles. Roughly seven times the circumference of the Earth. The new speed of hate. The internet, that modern marvel ushering in Humanity’s first truly post-scarcity resource, is built on light. Philosophers have for millennia wed knowledge with light. And now we all (well, those of us in the post-industrial world) carry a terminal connected to this internet in our pockets. A stunning marvel of human ingenuity. One would imagine that access to such a wellspring of knowledge and information would have a truly edifying affect on the Human Condition. Perhaps, in aggregate, or retrospect, it will. At the moment?

Yeah ...

At the moment it seems that the more access to information humans have the more they double down on tribal identities, wish fulfillment, instant gratification (read: porn), perceived slights, fantasy lands, Rick Astley videos, or the jibbering incoherent rantings of simple capitalists fomenting the fragile emotional states of low information individuals who feel they have no place in this world. This is a fundamentally devastating epistemological conundrum. Why? For centuries the barrier to the future was the amount of information, knowledge, you could access or process. Yet here and now? Here and now there might be too much access. Too much information. More so, the striking fact that our ability, as a species, writ large, to process or parse this information has not kept pace with the information at hand. A sad equation that inevitably leads to moments like 01/06/21.

4.

The Trump Terrorists of January 6th, 2021, weaponized the internet to facilitate their attempted coup. As did their ‘dear leader’ throughout his humiliating single term in office. In fact, it was the geometrical acceleration of connectivity and interconnectedness enabled via the web and its insanely capitalist platforms that allowed for their ‘movement’ to incubate and evolve. While it is true that neo-liberal policies advocating globalist economics and monetary policy are at the current root cause of most ills genuinely affecting rural, or poor, or uneducated MAGA-heads, it’s also true that apart from an Independent from Vermont no one in the political economy of the last couple decades gave much of a shit about these poor and dispossessed inheritors of old racial mythemes and toxic narratives of self-reliance. No one that is, other than their ‘dear leader’. Never mind he didn’t intend to ease their suffering in any material, or structural way. He talked about it. He tweeted about it. And then he gave them a little song and dance at the rallies. Breathtaking stuff.

However, it wasn’t just the performative act of playing ‘authoritarian’ that got them hot and bothered. No, it was at the same time the eternal need to belong to a group, the legitimate feeling of economic obsolescence, coupled with these new tools of information transmission. Tools that at once gave them powers unheralded and seemingly ensconced them in a protective shell, a perpetually larval manifestation of all their baser inclinations. A reactionary ‘safe space’ from which they could launch a thousand ships of intolerance and hate. What good is truth if you can’t weaponize it? What good are facts if you share them with everyone else?

And so we find ourselves revising Plato. There isn’t just one cave in which we are chained, kept from reality. There are multiple tunnels, alcoves, deeper caverns in which we might dwell. Furthermore, if lucky, there are different days, vistas, egresses in which we can escape from the confines of ignorance. Much like the lucky Mormons, it would seem the far-right believes there are plenty of planets in which ‘Truth’ can dwell. Never mind that multiplying ‘Truth’ in such a way doesn’t actually produce more truth.

In fact, it reduces ‘Truth’. Impoverishes it. Hollows it out.

Which is sad, really. For the major harm caused by these rebels isn’t to our democratic institutions, nor our mythological vision of our nature, nor that ever-loving economy - but to the very fabric that binds the social contract on which all the preceding rely.

That fabric being, specifically, a shared objective reality.

5.

How can we survive if we can’t agree on basic facts? Can a multi-racial, multi-cultural, representative democracy exist when a large percentage of the comprising citizens don’t believe in, or even acknowledge, that that’s actually what’s happening? Is White Supremacy so fundamentally a part of our nation’s DNA that the country can’t exist without it? If so, for those of us who vehemently oppose White Supremacy, the question might then be: is the country worth saving?

Most versions of Western Ethics indicate that violence is not the cure. Nor do I advocate such a position. At the same time I’m deeply troubled, because due their illness these actors are neither rational or coherent. Ergo, we can’t reason with them either. So what next?

To corral the revolutionary, if inchoate, spirit of these sick, fringe minds diseased as they are by hate, grievance, and digital oubliettes would any policy proposals be acceptable? Perhaps as fantastic an idea as the images from 01/06/21, what if the Federal Government decided to halt its obsequious sycophantry to corporate America and ‘elites’ and instead actually, seriously, emphatically reinvested in the heartland, in Main Street, in the working class? Wouldn’t it be ironic if a little more socialism was truly the cure these hatemongers require?

6.

Maybe we should step back and listen to the wisdom of George W. Bush.

Confronting what was at the time the most disheartening terror attack on the homeland, Bush made clear not all who could otherwise be lumped in with the terrorists were terrorists. In the same way that, yes, not all Trump voters are Trump Terrorists.

Even so. Bush made it clear you needed to pick a side.

With us - toward a diverse future in which the promise of the Founders is emboldened and expanded for all who live between our shores. Or against us - back to your stunted hovels and holes with all the other low information troglodytes you like to cosplay revolution with.  

Choose.

It’s your call. But choose quickly, because history is watching, and only one path moves toward the future.

C. R. Stapor Longmont, CO 01/16/21