#so they can do those things but you shouldn't aspire to even though those were always your goals

[qaanngi]

My new favourite motto 🌼✨👍🙏

[vikkirosko]

verosika, charlie, emily and carmilla carmille with pico!reader who is super protective

Headcanons Super protective

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x Reader 🎶

Charlie has always been kind. She aspired to see the good in others and to believe that even the most terrible sinners can improve if they want to. Many people didn't touch her because she was a princess. But there were those who didn't give a damn about it. And because of that, she could be in danger. That's why Vaggie and you were usually with her. Vaggie often stayed at the hotel hoping that Charlie would be okay, but you very rarely left her alone when she went somewhere. You were too worried about her and knew too well what to expect from sinners, so you often accompanied her

Every time you accompanied Charlie, many of those who wanted to at least insult her were afraid to approach her. You could look scary, and if someone didn't immediately realize that you shouldn't try to hurt her, then you'd pull out your gun, ready for what you'd need to use it for. When someone really tried to harm her, you were ready. You didn't care who it was, angel, demon, sinner. You were ready to tear them to shreds, even if the opponent was obviously stronger than you. You weren't going to let anyone hurt her, even though sometimes your zeal bothered her

Sometimes Charlie felt like your concern for her was bordering on paranoia. You were suspicious of many people, and it took you a really long time to start trusting someone. It took you a long time to get used to each of the hotels, and Alastor was still clearly causing you concern, but Charlie tried to help you worry less about it. She comforted you and hugged you when your anxiety got out of control. She understood that some of your concerns were justified, but not all of them wanted to harm her, and that's exactly what she tried to convey to you so that you knew about it and didn't worry about her every time she was going somewhere

It was really hard for you to stay calm. You cherished Charlie and didn't want her to get hurt, and if you had to get your hands dirty in blood to protect her, then you were ready to do it. You weren't afraid for your own life, which worried Charlie, but you considered her life more valuable than yours. That's why she tried to protect you from yourself. The last thing she wanted was for you to die protecting her

🗡 Carmilla Carmine x Reader ⚔️

Carmilla was strong. She was an overlord, she was involved in the manufacture and sale of weapons. She had lived in Hell long enough to protect herself and her daughters. But none of that was reason enough for you not to worry about her. You knew perfectly well that she had many enemies among sinners, which meant you had to protect her. For many who saw you next to her, you were her bodyguard, and only those who knew her well enough knew that this was not the case. You were her partner, the one she loved, but that didn't stop you from combining both roles

You knew that when she was doing her job, she was usually safe, but you preferred to stay by her side. The only reason you could leave her without your protection was because you went with her daughters when they delivered orders. They were family to you, and you weren't going to let anyone hurt them, for which Carmilla was grateful. But when you were sure they were safe, you were always with Carmilla. Every time someone in your opinion tried to threaten her, you started to look really scary. You didn't even have to try hard for this, but if someone didn't understand the simple hints, you were ready to shoot them in the leg, shoulder or something else to show by example that it's not worth threatening someone who is under your protection

On several occasions, she witnessed your emotional balance crumble when she was in danger. At such moments, you were eager to fight without feeling sorry for yourself. You didn't care about your own wounds or the fact that you might die. You weren't going to let her get hurt, but in your eagerness to protect her, you might not have noticed the threat looming over you. That's why she had your back, because she didn't want you to die. She knew she couldn't stop you from getting hurt, but that doesn't mean she'd let you die

When you were injured, Carmilla made sure that you would receive proper treatment or stayed with you so that he would not follow her again when he was injured. She didn't say it that often, but you were really important to her, which meant she had to protect you the same way she protected her daughters. Even if she had to go up against the angels to do it, she was ready to do it, knowing full well that you would have done the same for her

👁 Emily x Reader ✨️

In Heaven, most of the inhabitants were kind, including Emily. She was a true angel who believed in forgiveness and redemption. Were you like that? No. You've seen a lot of bad things in your life, you've seen that even in Heaven there were cruel people who could hurt you and they wouldn't get anything for it, which means you had to prevent it. You should have protected Emily, who was a ray of light to you in your dark life. Even if you had to go against all the angels and demons for her, you were willing to do it

You often went with her. Emily wasn't against it, on the contrary, she was glad that you kept her company, although some moments bothered her. She was worried about how aggressively you could look at others, and when it came to Adam, only the fact that Emily was holding you back stopped you from attacking him. You saw some of them as more of a threat to her than others, and she didn't understand the reason for that. She was the only one who could calm you down, and so far there have been no casualties. But no one knew at what point you would snap and attack someone to protect Emily. Even she herself didn 't know

Emily hugged you a lot. She stroked your back reassuringly and whispered to you that there were no enemies around. You were usually silent at such moments, but one day, when you were particularly tired, you quietly said that this was not the case, and that Heaven was full of snakes, the existence of which she did not even know. You didn't tell her more, but your words bothered her. Emily thought you were being paranoid right up until the moment she found out the truth. Until she found out that every year angels killed sinners. Only then did she realize the meaning of your words. You knew about it all this time, but you didn't say anything, not wanting her to be in danger, but now she knew everything and couldn't calmly continue to live as before and do nothing about it

You continued to protect her, and the more the situation escalated, the more protective you became. You once told Emily that if she ever fell, you would follow her to Hell. Your words made her heart sink. She knew that your feelings were sincere and that you never lied to her. She wanted to believe that it wouldn't come to that, but she was pleased that even if she ended up in Hell, she wouldn't be alone. She will have you by her side, who has always been ready to protect her from any threat, even one that she has not realized for so long

💋 Verosika Mayday x Reader 🎤

Verosika was famous, and the fact that she had a bodyguard seemed quite logical. But every time people saw you next to her, they were sure that she had two bodyguards. You weren't, but you were acting as her protector. You were her partner, but you still accompanied her to make sure she was safe. You were even overprotective, but she even liked seeing you get mad at others because of her. There was something burning about it that attracted her and made her smile contentedly

You kept her fans at a distance from her, knowing full well that they might be overly active. Most of them didn't even dare approach her when you were next to her, perfectly aware of your aggressive gaze. In Hell, the situation was about the same, but there you weren't afraid to hurt especially annoying fans who tried to violate her boundaries. You did much worse to those who tried to harm her. They tried to kidnap her several times, but each time the kidnappers died before they could do anything properly, because you were always on your guard. You weren't going to let anyone hurt her

She saw perfectly well that you could see a threat where it wasn't really there. It was at times like this that she distracted you from it. Even though Verosika and you have been in a relationship for a long time, you were easily charmed by her gentle voice and allowed her to distract you from feeling worried about her safety. She only did this when she knew for sure that your anxiety had no real reason and she liked to see you soften next to her

Verosika knew that when you were with her, she didn't need any bodyguard. Sometimes you were really overprotective, but she could trust you with her safety. You were willing to do a lot for her, including staining your hands with blood. It was something you had already done to protect her, and you were ready to do it again if the need arose

[my-deer-friend]

Oh, I'm after reading some letters you recommended me to read from Henry Laurens Papers! Thanks to this reading his bio is much better because I actually know how MUCH pressure Henry Laurens put on his oldest son. 

John was constantly reminded about Virtue and poor boy was so scared of losing his father acceptance, he letters to him are so heartbreaking and you can feel how unhappy he was with some choices to make his father HAPPY.

I'd be very interested in what specifically you found heartbreaking, and which choices you're referring to, if you'd like to share!

In either case, I want to encourage you to resist a one-sided interpretation of letters like that and keep the broader context in mind.

Yes, Henry was a strict father – but he was not vastly more strict than others at the time. As a single parent, he had the duty of ensuring his children would be set up for success in the world that they lived in. The things that he encouraged John to do – live frugally, choose a financially viable career, build a positive public reputation, practice the virtues and behaviours of a gentleman, prioritise his family – were very much in John's interest, and importantly, John aspired to many of those things too.

Henry's advice and directions lined up with societal expectations for young men at their time. You can certainly make the case that he held John to a higher standard than other sons in their orbit, but he also gave John a lot of freedom to make his own choices – such as in his education and his career – and trusted him to make those decisions for Harry and Jemmy too. Again, whether it was entirely fair to give him that degree of responsibility is something we can discuss, but we also shouldn't ignore that John was largely equal to the challenges, and he had support as well (financially from his father, and more generally from his uncle and aunt, the Mannings, and other friends of the Laurens family).

The other thing to remember is that, from 1776 onwards, Henry believed there was a very real chance that he would be killed for taking part in the American rebellion, and his entire fortune lost – so it would be up to John to play a pivotal role in supporting his family financially and societally. Was it unfair? Probably yes. Was it their reality at the time, despite whatever Henry or John may have wanted? Also yes. In either case, John made his own decision and returned to America against Henry's wishes, and Henry supported his choice, even though he disagreed with it.

I'm not trying to say that Henry was a perfect father; like any parent, he had his own biases, ideas about proper conduct, "old-fashioned" notions, and – because he was a product of his society's norms – expected his children to obey his instructions (at least before they came of age). At the same time, he encouraged John to make the most consequential decisions for himself. I don't think Henry would have been "happy" if John had made himself entirely miserable for the sake of gratifying him; equally, Henry would not have been a good father for his time if he'd just let John do whatever he wanted, and neglected to give him a framework of virtues and morals to live by. We need to keep in mind which standards we are judging a set of actions by.

[itsnothingofinterest]

Hey, Hope you're having good Holidays? 👋

Do you think there's going to be a big twist coming up in bnha?

Or maybe a twist big villain or something?

Because all the other villains have been taken out of commission and there's still doesn't seem to be any way for deku to save/defeat shigaraki. (Nothing that we've been shown so far.)

Because shigaraki does seem to be more powerful than deku and even if they do FINALLY start talking, deku seems to be in the same place 'ideal wise' as he was several arcs ago.

Like what could deku say that could prove his point (not that he really has much of a point, as he still hasn't really even thought about trying to fix hero society's giant flaws) to shigaraki now?

Even more, what could deku do, since he's still focusing on the crying child inside shigaraki and not what made the crying child?

Well my answers about the same as it's been for a long while now; I agree Deku's not in the right headspace to save Tomura and probably can't cram the character development to get into that headspace in at the last second before/during his metaphorical final exam here. He still needs to further develop his own views on things if he wants to challenge & change Tomura's views. Maybe Deku could convince him the entire country's not a lost cause and he shouldn't destroy it within a few chapters, but there's a massive gap between that and actually saving him the way we usually mean. The fact the other villains have not really been saved either so far doesn't really help my opinion of Deku's chances.

So yes I do expect a big twist and, same as ever, I expect that twist to be that this is not the final arc and we'll get a My Hero part 2 after Hori takes a long break. It's basically the only real meaningful twist I can think of at this point that'd resolve this time conflict without rushing resolutions that should not be rushed. Especially with Kurogiri (& maybe Machia if he’s alive) still left as dangling plot threads that could potentially recover the villains.

(Though I would not hate it, half just because I think it'd be funny, if the HC president came out of nowhere to reveal she survived clone-stro and is taking over as big bad so that Deku...idk, reevaluates the system he's protecting or something.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although while we're discussing where Deku is, ideal-wise, I have been meaning to go over my current criticisms with him for a bit; which to discuss below a cut:

Is mainly that he’s kind of just All Might again. He's like All Might in nearly every way that counts and his only aspiration is to be All Might 2 and save everyone he can like All Might did. I mean I’ve seen people sometimes say "no Deku’s totally different and better than All Might in this or that way" but those ways often seem to assume All Might was a lot worse, less kind, and more independent than he really was.

(And also that Deku is less independent than he really is; just compare this arc to Kamino, where they both work alongside their hero peers...until they feel the need to take on the final boss 1v1.)

Like, as someone critical of the hero society All Might built, I’ll bet I often come off as thinking All Might wasn’t a good hero. But that’s not so, I think All Might did the best he could have done, and moreover the best anyone could’ve done trying to fix things the way he did. I doubt anyone could've hero'd much better than him. If Deku were sent back in time to replace All Might, the best he could’ve done is about what All Might did. And if All Might faced all the hurdles Deku has, at the same power level for each, I believe he’d have managed at least as happy an ending to every arc.

So the great hurdle of this all is: All Might was the greatest hero he could possibly have been...but he also wasn't enough. The various ways the League were driven to villainy to form the group at all is proof of that. And that's why a rehash sequel to him won't be enough either. I understand why Deku and everyone else admires All Might, but he can't be doing the same things expecting much better results. If he does, then even if he does save Tomura here in the same way the rest of the League has been "saved" so far (a tall order already when Tomura's made clear he doesn't want another All Might), I fear he'll just face another League led by another Tomura in the future; another Tenko who was failed by Deku this time.

[trashbagcommunist]

Finished reading Animorphs #50, The Ultimate. It can be hard for me to sympathize with Cassie at times because I think we're ideologically so different, but this is one of the books that makes her character feel a lot more three dimensional and relateable to me, especially with her interactions with her parents and Jake. Anyway, I figured going into this that this book was going to be pretty uncomfortable, being disabled myself, but I was trying to meet it where it was and not be overly harsh about that. Spoilers ahead

The line about 'a few ordinary kids and extraordinary (disabled) kids' made me roll my eyes pretty hard.

There were a few things that I just thought were innacurate. Honestly, this is pretty nitpicky to be honest, but from a chronic illness point of view, I think it's important. I think it's possible that a person with cystic fibrosis could use morphing as like a treatment for their disease. It'd be a reset button on any damage done by the disease, and I would think??? every time you morphed by to human, it would clear your excess mucous. Maybe I'm wrong on that, but to me the concept is very cool. I have crohn's and I could imagine morphing would undo the damage and reset my inflammation levels. But I wonder if I'm only looking at it that way because I have a chronic illness and therefore a different way of looking at it. Anyway, the thing that bugged me the most is that the kids who were un-disabled by morphing automatically became the 'leaders'.

Like it always irritates me a little how much emphasis is placed on an affinity group of six people needing to have a leader and the leader stuff in general, but whatever. It's a kids book series from the 90s, and those of us who grew up then know how much "leadership!!!" was pushed as important and necessary.

If we're going to accept this hierarchy within the animorphs though, it does suck that the narrative doesn't even question the fact that the kids who become able-bodied must be the leaders. I don't hate the idea that morphing can 'cure' disability so much even, just that those that it 'cures' are unquestionably more qualified to lead. It's ironic for a book that acknowledges that humans also (like andalites) segregate disabled people and treat them (us) as inherently worth less... to then go on and treat the 'cured' characters as more worthy of the role of leadership. All the while, I acknowledge that being a 'leader' or 'boss' is the liberal aspiration forced on us as disabled people and I hate that. We shouldn't have to do anything to make ourselves more worthy of living. But like imagining that I could just turn into a wolf or whatever and be just as able-bodied while doing it as someone who gets to stay able-bodied when they turn back into human, why am I inherently less able to be a 'leader'? I guess my only other complaint is that I wish the endgame lasted longer. It would be nice to have more time to get to know the parents and the auxilary animorphs in this context, but that's a nothing complaint. Just like, I think it would be fun.

[mkfshard]

Love Thy Neighbor, or: Things I Want To Say But Speaking Is Messy And Writing Is Precise

For people who believe in souls, you reaaaaally put a lot of stock in bodies, don't you? For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit.

That's in your book, did you forget?

But of course the spirit is the mind is the spirit, and the mind is an emergent property of the brain which is made of flesh, so when we say 'soul' we're making a distinction for the sake of personal comfort. The wishful thinking that some part of you exists apart from you, that the you you know is just a puppet that your true puppetmaster self controls, as though the strings that tug you around aren't coming from inside.

And damn, that really does sound nice, doesn't it? Who wouldn't want that to set down the strings once in a while, just exist as the puppetmaster, free of the body's tyranny at last?

This isn't to say that the mind isn't special, especially because without it, we would have any idea what 'special' meant, or what any of these other strings of symbols meant, or the concept of 'meant'. The mind is what made all this up. And the mind can remake it, if it wishes.

Dad, when did you first know that you were a man? I don't actually care about the answer, but I'm sure you think you did. I'm sure you think you have no choice.

Would you like to know when I first knew I was a man?

I never did, I do not, and I don't expect to.

Every time someone cut my hair for me when I really didn't want it cut, every time I got stuffed into a suit and my aunts called me 'such a handsome little boy', every time someone said 'you're a guy, you should be able to do this, you shouldn't be such a wimp', every single goddamn follicle on my face has rung absolutely hollow.

And let me make this entirely unambiguous: this isn't low self-esteem. I actually think I'm pretty great, now that I've accomplished some things and understand myself a bit better.

Whenever I was held to some unreasonable masculine standard and fell short, I got frustrated, yeah. Not because of the falling short, but because of the standard. Not once did I feel like they should apply to me at all, or to anyone, for that matter. Not once did they ever feel fair, or aspirational. I had no interest in them. I knew they never applied to me, before I even had the words or the concepts to articulate why.

People know who they are, full stop. There is no greater authority regarding the content of an individual's mind than that individual. From the moment I could conceive of myself as a self, I knew I would never be a man, even though for years I never had a valid alternative. I know that trans people are who they say they are because I know at least half of what they feel, and that is enough.

You want to declare to me my own thoughts? You want to tell me that gender and sex are synonymous, when you refuse to look at what people way smarter than you have to say on the matter? You want to tell me that my true self is an ethereal puppetmaster piloting my body, but essential aspects of that puppetmaster are inextricably and irrevocably tied to the fact that I have a thing between my legs?

Fuck off. Your imaginations are blinkered and withered. You can watch Star Trek all day and think that the message of the post-scarcity spaceship that speaks of capitalism with all the disgust of hindsight and frequently meets aliens that defy our rigid social conventions or exaggerate them to show their flaws... is that the militaristic authority of a wise captain and the organization to which He belongs is paramount, and all the rest is just quirky window dressing.

Mom, you said two funny things to me, and they've stuck in my head for the longest time. To paraphrase, the first was an ~idealistic dream~: 'I wish people didn't feel like they were restricted in what they could do because of their [gender/sex]. People should just live how they like instead of transitioning.'

The more I think about this, the more insane it gets. The first part, yeah! Hell yeah! Arbitrary things like that shouldn't have any bearing on what you're allowed to do!

And then the next part. The true sentiment. Because, no, you don't actually want people doing whatever they want, regardless of their [gender/sex]. If you did, you wouldn't have any problem with the drag queens that make no overtures of being trans at all.

You present this as a utopian dream precisely because you don't believe it'll ever happen, and don't really want it to. You want to give them the whole beach to walk on, then draw a line in the sand an inch from their toes.

The second thing you said, I think I'll save for the end.

For now, it's back to Dad, and something he said. We were talking about masculinity, and a possible project I had in mind; I was considering trying to post videos online, in places frequented by guys who are like who I used to be. Surrounded by ridiculous ideas of masculinity, not having the words or the understanding to work through their feelings, easy prey for the scum of the earth manosphere types who I'm sure I would've been introduced to, had they existed back when I was like that. I wanted to show them that they could embrace the good parts of masculinity, if they wanted to, and discard and disdain the bad. I wanted to show them that masculinity itself can be optional. 'A man' is not something I am, it's something I do; something as easily worn and removed as a ratty old hat, and exactly as valuable in my life.

For the most part, Dad, you were pretty supportive. You said that it would be good for young guys to have a patient, positive role model. Like Jordan Peterson, you said, have you heard of him? Have you heard of Charlie Fucking Kirk?

Yes, yes I have, but that's beside the point. The point is when I was talking at length about masculinity being optional, and you said something, paraphrased, 'For men who don't want to take charge/be a provider/other random masculine things... I don't know what to do with that.'

You... don't know what to do with that? Okay! Sure, that's a good starting point, you've identified something you don't know. Let's figure it out!

Except that the thought ended there. A few seconds after that moment, it dawned on me that your 'I don't know' wasn't a boundless plain of possibility, to you-- it was a yawning cliff, beyond which there was no hope of return. Because you're clinging to a narrow precipice that tells you that the world has certain rules, and you know that some of them are wrong! The one that says 'guys who don't act As Guys Should are failures and should be mocked and ostracized' is one you clearly reject, because you don't think that people should be treated that way.

It's just that you don't have any other rules that talk about them. You don't have the words. They're down the cliff, and the climb down is scary. But please, god, don't be afraid. Once you're on solid ground there's no fear of falling.

Nothing about it can really hurt you, in the end. Nothing about it does, because it exists all around you anyway, in ways you can't perceive. News sites run by the hateful convince you that people who aren't like you are going to ruin the world, and they're doing it NOW, and they present you with all the Logic:tm: and Reason:tm: flavored phrases they need to assure you that fear is the proper response, and to give you stock things to say when you're confronted on that fear, to prevent you from thinking the uncomfortable thought of what if I'm wrong?

But sometimes, something honest slips through. Sometimes, I push hard enough to finally get at the core of all the arguments and moving goalposts you put in my way. Mom, we watched the movie Nimona together, a delightful and touching movie that you wholeheartedly enjoyed until I tried to talk with you afterwards about what it all meant. I think you were angry, because, through my associating that movie with Things You Are Not Meant To Think About, you had to retroactively ruin your own enjoyment of it. I'm not sorry, because I'm not the one at fault for that.

But because you were angry, you said something about trans people that I will never forget. Even inevitably paraphrased, since my memory is not flawless, the honesty shines through. I don't remember what I said, something about you not wanting trans people to exist, but I remember your response.

'I don't care whether or not they exist. I just don't want them to exist where I can see them.'

Here it is. The shining nugget of evil inside you. The heart of bigotry.

On some level, you know that their existence isn't harmful. You know that they're not corrupting children with their sinful existence, you know they're not predators in bathrooms and are in fact more likely to be victimized, you know that they mean you no harm and that all the arguments against them are spurious. You know that they're not just lying to upset their parents.

None of that matters. What matters, underneath everything, peeling back all context and specificity, is that they make you, personally, uncomfortable. And so when someone tells you they can take you back to a time when you didn't have to think about their existence, whatever that means, you follow them without question. Whatever it takes to get them to stop.

Your arguments are not real. They're a smokescreen. You decided on your stance first, based on your own sense of disgust, whether that came from your religion or just your own terror at the world's true complexity, and then looked for whatever faulty evidence that wouldn't stand up to peer review to justify it.

Comfort itself isn't wrong. If I could start working towards a body that truly corresponded to who I am, one that I could feel comfortable in, I would do so in a heartbeat. It just so happens that, at least for now, that's literally impossible because my preferred body is just an undefined value.

But when your comfort is dependent on someone not being allowed to do something that affects only them, and hurts no one except that it makes you uncomfortable to see it, I honestly couldn't care less.

May every pair of girls you see on TV kiss. May trans flags haunt your every waking moment. May you be left with no 'safe' media to retreat to, may you be forced to grow the fuck up, my 50+ year old parents.

My trans friends mean you no harm, and in fact would probably love to meet you, if you didn't think that they don't really exist, or think that they shouldn't exist, or think that they need to be silent, miserable, or dead. Conversion therapy doesn't work, by the way, just wanted to throw that out there.

I miss you. I want to be friends again. I want you to be people I'm proud of being friends with.

But as it stands, you've already seen the last of me. I'll still be there, of course, but only me, and even that fading. You won't know about any relationships or friends I have. If I ever have children of my own, you won't ever know if I can help it. You're just not safe people to expose my loved ones to.

I wish it wasn't the case. But it is. And you're the only people with the power to fix it.

If for no other reason than that you want me in your life, I hope you do.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Any other P.okémon guys you think deserve some voracious love? I personally would love to see some Lance pred ideas.

This one is so old that I've already done L.ance stuff so, instead, I'm gonna dedicate this one two a couple of characters I've been wanting more vore of and need to get around to.

The sound of the train moving helps muffle the thick belches that ring out in the now-empty car. I.ngo and E.mmet find themselves forced to sit on the floor, their stomachs pressed together as live meals squirm around inside. The brothers had another successful match against some aspiring trainers. It seems as though no one can beat their synergy in battle, so the subway masters once again find themselves relaxing after a large meal on the train. It'd become a normal occurrence for them once they realized how easy it was to have meals like this. Too weak to fight, the trainers they beat are defenseless against the hungry twins, and they can enjoy a few good meals while the trains are in motion. By the time they get off, there won't be enough left of those trainers to even determine they were one people. I.ngo winces as another harsh belch comes from him, an acid-washed P.okeball flying out of his jaws. "Hopefully that was the last of them. No more cargo can fit into this car." He pushes down on his stomach, trying to smooth out the bulges of his various meals. E.mmet pushes down on his brother's stomach as well, working out another deep belch from I.ngo. "I am E.mmet and I am veeeeery proud of you, brother!" he says with his usual smile. He'd been the one to convince I.ngo to start indulging more on their victories, and while his stomach was still getting used to it, the two of them were fairly evenly matched when it came to their hunger. E.mmet would start rubbing over his own stomach as well, kneading and pushing down on his meals. They had about fifteen minutes before the train stopped and they had to get off, so these passengers had to depart before that! Enough rubbing and massaging would help his gut get into action, and once it was boiling his meals away, he'd do the same to help I.ngo out. He kneads over I.ngo's stomach, working out a content sigh from the subway master as it gets his stomach working hard as well. By the time the train has stopped and the two of them are walking off, they'll only have some sloshing pot bellies to show for their work. It'll get attention, sure, but no one ever comments on it so long as the twins don't. Nobody would ever suspect the subway masters of all those disappearances anyway. It'd just be unthinkable...

With a wet slurp, I.ngo gets the legs hanging out of his jaws down the hatch, his stomach bloating out as his meal dives inside. Ever since he wound up in H.isui, he knows that he's forgetting things--very important things that shouldn't be forgotten. But nothing had been working to get his memories back, even after all this time. He'd almost given up on it...when that trainer who fell from the sky like he did mentioned something. "Maybe eating other fallen people will job your memories," he'd said as a joke to the warden. He likely hadn't meant for it to be taken seriously, but even the idea of it working had gotten I.ngo to be unable to think about anything else. It wasn't ten minutes later that he'd gotten the man's head into his maw and begun slurping him down. Now his stomach is full, bulges shifting around as his meal squirms. He belches into his fist and rubs over his gut with his other hand. He shouldn't have done that...but he couldn't stop himself. It felt good...and tasted good. His stomach is gurgling up a storm, working hard to digest its fresh meal. I.ngo knows he's eaten like this before with...with someone. He feels like the memory if right there. If he just had a bit more...I.ngo's stomach groans out and he drools a bit. If he had a bit more...maybe he'd remember. The trainer had dropped that strange device I.ngo often saw him carrying, so he picks it up. This could be his answer. In the privacy of an old cave, I.ngo sits with an engorged stomach. At least five people are packed inside, all of them confused and panicking. They'd suddenly woken up in this strange world and were almost immediately devoured by I.ngo. He lets out a thick belch that echos through the cave and wipes some drool from his maw. The strange device had done exactly what he hoped and brought him more meals from...wherever he came from. The flavors are so familiar and he feels like he's getting close to a revelation. That first trainer has already long since stopped moving and is likely more sludge than person now. A few more meals like this...a few more and I.ngo will definitely remember. He grabs the device again, drooling like a wild beast. He'll eat until he remembers...all he has to do is have more.

Ever since his brother had disappeared, E.mmet had been much more distant. The other workers at the station noticed how little they saw of him, and the few times they did see him, he was always speeding off somewhere else. Of course they were getting worried, but if they couldn't stop him long enough to talk to him, what could they even do? Not to mention, the disappearances around the stations have only gotten worse. Even staff members have started to wind up missing but E.mmet always seems to get more hired before long. Then there's all the passengers that keep vanishing on the trains. It's as if it's happening even more frequently. Nobody knows that E.mmet is the one responsible, of course. The only one he didn't cause as of late was I.ngo, who had truly disappeared out of nowhere. E.mmet was...doing his best to hold it together but it wasn't going well. His hunger was nearly insatiable now. Eating was a fine distraction, at least, but he's been doing it nonstop. If there's no one boiling away in his stomach, it's because he's on his way to find someone to fill that role. He's tried keeping it to passengers as usual, but his staff have grown too worried about his behavior. He appreciates it, really, but he's devoured at least ten of them because they'd catch him with a human-shaped gut or somebody sticking out of his maw. Even now, he's hiding out in a closet, his engorged stomach gurgling heavily over a few of his staff. They'd seen him snacking on someone waiting for the train and well...he had to eat them. And then the two he ran into while trying to hide. He'll have to get more hired on before anyone notices, but he knows they're noticing more. If I.ngo were here this wouldn't be a problem...E.mmet winces just at the thought and instead puts his focus into kneading over his gut, listening to the wet noises it made and the desperate screams of his melting prey. Without his brother there by his side, he feels lost, and battling doesn't give him the same rush it did before. The only thing that makes him feel better is eating. So he'll just keep eating until I.ngo returns...no matter how long it takes.

[my-st0ff]

Something Soft and Delicate

Chapter One

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x human female rogue inquisitor reader

Chapter Song: Jack the Ripper - Morrissey (lyrics in bold)

Summary: Set after the events of Dragon Age Inquisition where the inquisitor (you) has completed the Cullen romance.

A beautiful and private ceremony for just the two of you went incredibly, you can now both call one another husband and wife. Something Cullen had always wished to find with another. For now, the two of you can rest, finally not in the midst of war. But Cullen still carries fear and dread on his tired shoulders and you are tormented by your past.

You couldn't have even dreamt of such a gorgeous ceremony. You'd been to a wedding, just one, to assassinate the bride for a bounty... something that haunted you quite often. This sort of jarred your perception of how a wedding could be, you'd since subconsciously associated weddings with bloodshed. As you had no previous experience. Cullen had taught you once again the beauty in something you thought to be unimportant or 'not for you'. Another thing that Cullen had taught you was that as soon as you had stepped through the doors of the Haven Chantry you were a new individual, because you were no longer backed into a corner and fit-ting in rage like you had been your entire life. The bounty hunter lifestyle was one you had grown comfortable in, as comfortable as one can be. You'd lived it for a solid 9 years, after you and Cullen had to part once again... after you'd lost everything again.

You and Cullen grew up together, him - an aspiring soldier, more than excited to protect and provide, a bright yet quite shy kid. This military interest of his kept him bullied most of his childhood. You on the other hand, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young lass with a rebellious twinge in her aswell as your constant chomping at the bitt to explore. You didn't have a plan - as Cullen did - growing up you dreamt of adventures alongside a horse and a lover, Cullen to be specific. You'd always loved him, your first love as was his as you both confessed to one another at age 17 and his 18. One year, one beautiful year where you felt nothing could ever dent the purest of joys you held in your soul now that you and Cullen had decided to stick together as more than just the strong unit you were before but as passionate lovers with the dream of pursuing your lives hand-in-hand. Before you knew it your, what you called for years after, silly teenage fantasies were crushed and cursed. Brutally so. Cullen left to join the military miles upon miles away at just 19. He told you the line of work he was pursuing was to put him in frequent danger and he was doing this to protect you and your heart, those being his very words as he left you. No promise to write or visit, ending everything just like that. Right after this was when you realised your absence of planning for your future was crashing down on you, collapsing and suffocating you. You had unsupportive parents and were mainly raised by yourself or spent your time with Cullen's family - after he was gone you never visited them again, you felt you shouldn't. Though it was mostly selfish, you didn't want to see them knowing you couldn't ever see him again, it would hurt far too much. You spent a lot of time on the streets, squatting and pursuing bounties for cash to keep yourself alive. You found it easy work with your trained agility and precision with a bow aswell as a set of daggers. After the uprising of darkspawn attacks you were undeniably worried for the safety of the man you no longer knew, but not enough to do anything about, you had yourself to look out for and that was all now. All was as good as it could be until you received a hit request from an aware government official who had taken note of your work of a soldier working in quite a far area from the city you usually reside in - you never usually took hit requests the prize was unreal, enough for you to even start over again. It didn't you long to realise this slimebag you were hunting who had infiltrated the army was working in close quarters with Cullen Rutherford. You did everything you could to prevent your paths from crossing and were successful all the way up until you had finished the job and were planning on leaving to go back home the next morning. That very night hell broke loose in the Tower of Magi, you knew full well Cullen was in that tower, you'd overheard the operation being discussed previously when getting a gage of the military camp earlier in the night before you killed the hit. Instinct fully took over, you ran shooting first and thinking later into that tower to find a weak, terrified Cullen. He teared up at the sight of you and took convincing to believe you were truly there. Everything that he and the other templars had done disgusted you to your core, and even though you knew Cullen was afraid and never wanted any of this, you couldn't excuse it but most of all, after he begged you to, you couldn't stay. This money you were soon to receive was about to change your life forever and you refused to give it all up for someone now, it was too late. Upon returning you soon learnt you were being deceived by the shady individual who had plans to kill you once the job was done in order to avoid the promised payment. You survived but stripped of everything of the very little you had. Back to bounty hunting and misery. For 9 years you never lived, just survived. Until the day you gained the mark and once again, perhaps fatefully, your paths crossed.

"sweetheart?"

And with a single sound emitted from the warm chest of the love of your life you were home, say from the suffocating depths of your thoughts.

You: "sorry, drifting off"

A smile breaks the concern on his face and one of his hands flees from the reigns of his beloved and pampered clydesdale horse 'Destrier' to cup over one of the hands of yours that gripped so tightly around his waist. He rode you both slowly, still in your dress and he in his suit.

Cullen: "something on your mind"

You: "how could there be, I just married the greatest man in all of Thedas"

You smile with a small huff of a laugh and lean your head forward to rest on his shoulder. His eyes maintaining forward with most of the motion as he turns to place a quick kiss to your temple.

Cullen: "you must have me mistaken"

He laughs

You: "not as far as I know"

You peck at his shoulder a few times

You: "so, why don't you just tell me where we're headed hm?"

He smirks

Cullen: "I refuse"

You: "Cullennn"

You whine

You: "it's getting late"

You add as the sunset on the horizon catches your eye

Cullen: "oh, you don't care if it's late, don't play at that"

He smiles, loving every moment of your anticipation.

You: "and you don't care if your lost"

You laugh

Cullen: "oh y/n, we're not lost"

He rolls his eyes

Cullen: "I promise you'll love it"

You: "how are you so sure"

Cullen: "I know you"

He reassures you in the gentlest of tones. He had, in the most literal sense, pulled you away not so graciously almost immediately after the ceremony had ended into the saddle of his far too conveniently close-by horse for this to be unplanned or on impulse. He sat with his arm extended to pull you up without a word of permission, you don't agree, but you don't refuse and evidently followed him up and we're led here.

Cullen: "But tonight you presume too much"

You: "presume?"

Cullen: "your all tense... darling I promise you I am not going to ruin any aspect of our wedding night"

You: "I know, I know... I trust you"

Not so many trots later and you had reached what seemed to be a dead end, screwing up your face in confusion at the stone wall covered unforgivingly in vines and other colourful plants. Cullen dismounted without a word and, similar to how he had previously ushered you onto the horse, placed his hand in view for you to take and be escorted off of the back of Destrier. You took it and carefully lowered yourself, making sure to avoid any and all dirty or muddy spots to save your elegant gown.

You: "are we... here?"

He smirks

Cullen: "almost"

He, instead of letting go of your hand when you were safely on the ground, leads you gently forward whilst his other hand reaches toward a clump of vine. Boggling you. Cullen pulls away a few spots of plant to reveal a mystical-looking hidden archway within the wall. He looks back at you with unmatched giddiness.

Cullen: "come on, don't be shy"

He tugs playfully and moves forward through the arch at an upped speed. You giggled and followed through to a small, desolate and abandoned balcony, sitting on a cliff that eyed what seemed like all of Thedas. The now starry sky stretched across the most perfect view you had ever witnessed, your heart fluttering madly.

You: "oh... my... I have no words"

Cullen: "I hope it's not boring- I- there's not much to do but every now and then I come here to watch the night sky- I thought you'd appreciate it"

The tips of his ears turning brighter than before, you cupped both of his hands in yours before drowning yourself in his moonlight-filled deep brown and doughy eyes.

You: "this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen"

Cullen: "I- I'm so glad"

You smiled uncontrollably at one another before you pulled away to close the gab between you and the broken down walling protecting you from the ledge.

Cullen: "careful, this place is old"

You could soak up this view for hours and it would still be impossible to not be able to find something new to look at. Cullen took a few steps toward you but kept his distance. He watched you, he found doing so irresistible. Every inch of yourself bathed in moonlight, he'd never seen something so perfect and pure, he'd never loved someone or something so much in his life. He wished everyday that he could take back all those years he spent away, he wished he could have just swallowed his pride and lived them out with you. But as of this moment, none of it mattered. You were here with him now and he couldn't have asked for anything more. His hand trails softly down your upper arm until it reaches your wrist and slowly works to your fingertips. He massages and caresses your hand whilst your head stays faced outwards to the landscape.

Cullen: "I love you"

You finally turn back to him

You: "I love you... more than anything darling"

His tender and needing eyes beg for you. You take a step or two closer so that you could fold your arms around his shoulders, one hand naturally landing in his perfectly groomed hair as your lips land automatically onto his. He pushes for the kiss to be delicate, not wanting to force anything but you egg him on as you deepen said kiss. The kiss becomes more and more indulgent and it's oh so soon before Cullen begins to hum and whimper little affirmations of content into your mouth. He'd always done this when you kissed, he never really could help it. The whole action of being able to kiss you was all so pleasant for him that he had no other way of expressing himself other than non-worded small noises. He'd done the same with most of your affectionate touches, whenever youd carress his sore back or run a few fingers through his hair upon greeting him. His hands lay gently on your hips. He'd also always been a little shy when it came to his way of physical effection, he desperately wanted to be close with you but was just so wrapped up in his irrational worries of you not recuperating this. You moved your hands to his and usher him to squeeze a little more. Eventually he began to work his hands around your hips and waist. Your set of fingers that are not in his hair end up by his torso, squeezed between your warm bodies. Your index and thumb rimming around a button on his shirt that sat close to the centre of his chest after your hand had worked it's way within his blazer. Undoing said blazer with such a discreet motion that once he felt your hand underneath another layer of fabric his heart skipped a little in wonderful suprise. You pull your lips just an inch or two away from his so that you could mutter to him:

You: "I want you"

Cullen opens his eyes finally to reveal a dazed look in each brown pool that made him almost look drunk. Upon take a step back you noticed just how much brilliant torment you'd caused his what was before perfect presentation. His hair pointing in jags in different directions; his cheeks with a light rose tinge and his blazer now just hanging onto his body.

Cullen: "I know a place-"

You cut him off

You: "absolutely not, we're going home to our warm bed"

You smile

You: "come on it's not all that long of a ride"

You add and with unmatched willpower push yourself off of Cullen and toward the same way you entered the hideout.

Cullen: "whatever you want darling- I just thought... I just need you..."

His voice gruff on the last addition to his sentence, making you look back into his needy eyes. You take a few steps back towards him and tease him with a peck on the lips, leaving him leaning foward towards an absence of reciprocation.

You: "don't worry, I'll get us home quick. And if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm going to give you what you need tonight"

You smile light-heartedly, fully aware of his urgent state and yet still toying a little.

Once upon Destrier (you had insisted on taking the reigns, joking that he'd detour the two of you, but Cullen demanded childishly that he take control) your arms seemed to keep creeping further and further around his torso as Cullen rode at just a bit over a medium pace. Your hands explored his core, noticing and lingering on where you could feel his rapid heartbeat aswell as where his tender stomach lifted and fell shakily. You moved your head forward towards this and placed a peck to his temple and then to his ear. Soon you were nibbling gently at the shell and lobe of Cullen's left ear, causing his pants to now be rather audible. A small whine escaped him.

You: "what's the matter baby?"

You play in a whisper, the hot air from your lips landing on the inner shell of his ear with little to no travel between as you sat your face painfully close to his.

Cullen: "I- nothing I-... this is rather embarrassing"

You: "hm?"

You momentarily question before both of your hands had driven down his body enough to land by his lap, noticing the not very discreet bulge sitting not so comfortably within his smart trousers.

You: "oh sweetheart, there's nothing to be embarrassed about"

You add, one of your hands now caressing the mound gently, making him jitter and let out a short, stuttered moan and then a chain of stuttered, shaky sighs. The sight of Skyhold working into view for the both of you was the best relief Cullen could ask for. He rode Destrier erratically into the stables before leaping off immediately and hauling you down afterwards, making you let out a small squeak of suprise and then a few little giggles as he held you in his effortlessly strong grip. Carrying you bridal style in a pace straight into the stairwell that led to your shared room. Upon peeking upwards you were met with a determined and straight face heading straight forwards with just a few specks of sweat. His jaw twitching. Once finally in the bedroom he all but drops you down onto the bed. Standing above you, you grab at his shirt collar and slowly pull his upper body towards your face. Breathing hot air between one another but denying contact. Suddenly, he swiftly, but still making an effort to be gentle, pulls your hand by the wrist away from him.

Cullen: "no more teasing"

He says in a husky tone, an excited smirk soon growing in place of your dominating glare. Cullen was gaining confidence and for this you were gaining lust. He leans down at his chosen above medium pace and begins to kiss and tooth just a little at your neck and collarbone in almost an animalistic manor. His heavy pants very audible. He crashes into your arms, you bringing them up underneath his arms and allowing your fingers to dig into the region of his back around his shoulder blades whilst he holds himself at a perfect level of elevation so that he can bury his mouth and nose into the crook of your neck whilst not burdening you with his whole weight by leaning on his lower arms sat by each side of your head. He hums with pleasure into your skin. His body all-together is working up yours, him still on his feet for the most part. Your legs separate and cling around his waist to allow him to shuffle himself up against you, beginning to gently rut into you, needy. Small gasps (in the sense that he was genuinely surprised at how good the little contact felt) and 'mm's began to escape his lips, quiet but close to your ear, as he subtly humped into you. One hand of his lifts up for a moment to begin unbuttoning his shirt, whilst doing this he kisses first at your lips and then down your jawline and behind your ear to your neck and then works his way around the area repeatedly. Cullen was completely in a trance, under your spell if you will, unless you were to command to stop or to whack him on the back of the head in more violent terms he would happily be in this state with you forever. Though happy wasn't enough, he needed absolute ecstasy, and Cullen's ecstasy had been found on both of the two occasions you had layed together before. Once not so soon before your final battle and once when you managed to sneak away at the party afterwards, in a way that made you appear similar to a pair of loved up teenagers, it was so nice to make up for the time you lost when you were infact the prime age for those shenanigans.

Cullen was soon unbuckling his belt, his lips attached to yours. You'd managed to slip and shuffle out of your gown with a bit of hand-sy help aswell as your underwear. He desperately pulled off his underwear, it was almost humorous. Before you knew it he was standing above you once again, his hands by each side of your head so he was still leant over you but now there was a big enough gap between your faces for a strong eye contact. His brows contorted downwards of the inner sides, closest to his nose.

Cullen: "may I?"

You nod your head over a few times excitedly with a smile which soon spreads to him. You reach out your hands and cup his face so you can comfort him a small rub of your thumb on one of his cheekbones as the sudden waves of pleasure crash into him whilst pushing himself slowly into you and also so you can watch his face contort as he does so. As the tip pushes into you he immediately lets out a shaky sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment and his mouth hung wide but he soon flickers them open once more to maintain eye contact.

You: "good boy, that's it"

Your thumb begins to caress as you'd planned. He pushes in further and bites his bottom lip painfully hard in response. More intense whines escape him and his chest stutters with every slow rise and fall. He sits for a moment when you gasp, not even fully in, he's hit a very sensitive spot of yours.

You: "all the way, that's it"

You reassure in a high tone, your mouth now gaped also. With this reassurance he pushes in excruciatingly slow, at the fear of hurting you, until his balls make contact with your skin. He slowly sinks into your again, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He slowly begins to work himself in and out, moans and pants squeezing out of him every second. You bring one hand to his hair and stroke it comfortingly and the other to one of his big arms so that you could hold onto it for your own comfort.

You: "good boy, does that feel nice?"

You mewl

Cullen: "mm- mhm"

He moans in response

Cullen: "your amazing... your amazing to me"

He adds in a pant. One of his hands has now made its way to your clit to rub slow circles on the most sensitive nub that sat in the centre .

You: "o-oh god, Cullen"

Cullen: "I know baby"

He responds as he begins to thrust his hips into you quite a bit faster than before.

You: "m-more, please"

These words escape your lips without a second thought, suddenly you'd just spoken them and even shocked yourself. Cullen stops moving his hips for just a moment so that he can fully stand above you again, you still laying comfortably before him on the edge of the bed. His shimmering-with-sweat brow furrows in focus and his lips disappear, folded inwards. A similar face to as he makes when carefully inking a letter or organising most things work related. A concentrated look that only you had ever been able to break with your distracting self. But this time, the thing he was focusing so hard on was the rhythmic flow of his hips reaching the perfect angle that made your squeal and jolt in place as he began moving faster than you'd ever had him before. The noises you were emitting were terribly gorgeous to Cullen and he couldn't help himself but to want more and more, even though his movement felt so so incredibly good to him and if kept up was going to end things for him all too early. His moans were now the loudest you'd ever heard and the tenseness of his lower stomach indicated exactly what was happening. You had no issue with this though as Cullen seemed to presume, you were not far from the same and you wanted to be stable enough to keep your eyes wide open and glued to his expressions when he came. Cullen was beyond overwhelmed and his stomach was growing achy and legs tired.

Cullen: "darling- t-too much, too much"

Were the only words he could possibly produce as he began slowing again.

You: "ssh, it's okay, it's okay"

You manage through trembling lips and sit yourself up, keeping yourself positioned so that he could remain inside of you but you could wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his. His hands instinctively gripped your waist and you hear him gulp hard, you could hear every little noise his body was emitting perfectly from this close.

You: "let me do the work baby"

You coo and begin the roll your hips onto his, moans uncontrollably vibrating from your bitten lips. You caressed your fingers up and down the back of his neck with one hand and used the other to support yourself by having it wrapped fully around his back and gripping to the shoulder on the other side from behind. Your fairly slow movements were working you both to the very edge of release.

Cullen: "I- your gonna make me-"

You, in a silent response, rut yourself into him faster until Cullen goes for a deep inhale but instead his breath is hitched and his mind goes fuzzy. His hands grip painfully hard on your hips, possibly bruising. Once he can breathe again the most lewd moan you'd ever heard escaped his chest followed by a string of frantic and high pitched 'I love you, I love you's. You grip his shoulder tight as his blissful-to-watch orgasm pushes you right over and your hit with a gorgeous release that has your squealing into his chest once your head had flopped onto his chest in surrender.

You: "o-oh baby"

You cry, actual tears escaping you now with the intensity of the feeling you were finally working down from.

For a moment, the two of you panted into one another, your head now risen again to press foreheads. The silence was broken by a small, breathy giggle that emitted from Cullen. You reciprocated.

Cullen: "your... too good for me"

He puts, one of your hand working down to intertwine fingers with one of his.

You: "you and I both know that's far from the truth"

You respond and place a tender, vulnerable kiss to his soft and still trembling lips.

You: "you did so good for me, sweetheart"

A flushed smile lands on his face, he never failed to become overly joyous and flushed at praise from you. You begin to shuffle backwards on the bed. Cullen takes the absent-of-word invite and follows to snuggle himself next to you. As you were both a little too sweaty to wrap yourself in duvet you rather placed a throw over the two of your still-exposed bodies. You'd never felt so comfortable around someone as you were with Cullen, comfortable to be vulnerable and true to yourself, your real self. Not the woman you'd had to portray for so many years in self defence. The little tip of Cullen's soft nose soon found itself nuzzling at your collar bone before his content and tired face found a comfortable spot to lay itself upon your pillow closely to your face. His eyes already shut. One of his hands found itself ever so comfy on your boob as the other played softly with your hair. You turned your head to place one gentle kiss to his creased forehead.

You: "I love you, ya, know that?"

Cullen: "more than anything"

He answers shortly, making your heart flutter. Not having to word the obvious for you to understand. He'd often answer you with this phrase and it never failed to bring a cheesy smile to the next however long of your day or night. Whenever you'd catch him and give the quick "I love you" and instead of the automatic "love you too" he'd more than often but less than always respond with "more than anything”. Your mind drifted over this very fact for quite a while, subconsciously sending you to sleep.

Chapter Two:

[cryopathiic-a]

"I can't keep pretending that everything is fine."

It was barely past sundown. The torches were being lit one by one and monks were handing out blankets to the newcomers after the first winter's chill had begun to reach this part of the woods. It was coming down from the mountains nearby, they claimed; mountains someone had yet to spot. Because the temple's expanse often seemed endless and most of the weary souls that ended up here lacked the determination to explore it in its entirety.

But one of them aspired to.

The same one that now stood beside the Lord Founder himself, overlooking the preparations for tonight's sermon — before dinner. Something to thank the Gods for all their blessings, it was said. There were a few girls in the distance finishing up the flower bouquets; and in other times, Inosuke would have shared the task instead of sitting here whisper-yelling at his sensei. But as of late he'd been receiving all this special favor, hadn't he? Even now, as a cold palm lands firmly upon his shoulder with those words, he should feel honored!

The slightest force suffices to turn the boy's gaze towards those girls; their forms evident through the shoji. An iridescent claw points to the shortest of the bunch.

❝ See there? That's Akina. She came here last week. ❞ He doubted Inosuke would have noticed. There were so many of them, coming and going after all. ❝ Two weeks ago, her mother tried to drown her in a tub. They were a large family, but very poor. And even though she told me she loved her siblings very much, she had to leave them all behind because she knew her life was in danger. Too many mouths to feed. So she had been selected, as the least desirable daughter. ❞ Dōma pouts. His honeyed voice carries a perfect immitation of sympathy. ❝ She feels horrible about this incident, as you can imagine. But more than her mother's attempt on her life, she has been shaken by the thought that she is unwanted. Isn't that horrible? For your own parents to make you feel unwanted? ❞

Inosuke wouldn't know. Kotoha loves him so much, after all.

His head cants and some of those beautiful white gold tresses fall on Inosuke's shoulder, carrying the pungent smell of water-lilly blossom and incense. A stench he's almost lathered the poor child in, at this rate. The girls giggle over some inaudible joke they shared in the distance.

❝ And then this one, there— ❞ His finger moves to pick out the tallest, this time. ❝ That's Himari. She has been here for a month, I believe. Her family home burnt down and she was left with nothing but ashes. When the authorities found her, they blamed the fire on her carelessness. She was left on the street to die; and there men found her and took her to Yoshiwara. ❞ Inosuke is still a child. He shouldn't hear these things. No child should ever have to hear these things right?

Right.

❝ And then ... they sold her. As a slave. To others in the entertainment district, that did all sorts of horrible things with her. You know... things that she still has bad dreams about to this day. ❞ He nods as if to emphasize these words. And his gaze is penetrating as it burrows into the innocence of those emerald eyes; and sucks it dry. Himari's face momentarily loses its smile as she turns to hang a flowerband up on the wall. The demon's pout slowly contorts with a mock sorrowful expression.

❝ So, let me ask you this; do you think it's fine for them? Do you think things are fine for them, in their lives now? ❞ Compared to what they had before, it seems pretty innocuous doesn't it? From suffering, to being concerned with flowers. He stands to full height once more, removing his firm hold on the youngling.

❝ It's disappointing to me, that you did not take after your mother at all. The way you think... it's quite selfish. ❞

[fantasyinvader]

So, having read Liu Bei’s death I just can’t help but feel like the story undermines Confucian virtue. I just can’t. This is the guy who was meant to be the paragon, everything a leader should aspire to be, but at the same time it’s very well possible to start running parallels between him and his rivals. And when you do that, you begin to wonder if he really was any different and if all his concerns about his virtue came from him wanting to appear virtuous.

With that last point, I just keep flashing back to Xu province, where Liu Bei rejected being given the position of governor multiple times because it would cause people to question his virtue. After all, he went there to help defend the place from Cao Cao’s attempted revenge massacre, but if he were to be control of the place over Tao Qian’s sons it would make it look like Liu Bei did it for the reward. He’s eventually convinced to take it, his first major territory, but loses the province soon after. And when you consider how we wanted to massacre Wu to avenge Guan Yu and Zhang Fei’s deaths (discounting how their own flaws contributed to them dying), saying he won’t accept living under the same sky as Sun Quan, it really makes the case that Liu Bei towards the end of the book has become like Cao Cao at the beginning.

When I look at the book, I always see Liu Bei losing support when he acts non-virtuously. When he breaks bad, it leads to his allies dying while his enemies will point to those actions and say “you see? You see? He’s not a goody-twoshoes, he’s a schemer and can’t be trusted.” Yet Zhuge Liang argues that it’s alright to take non-virtuous action when the reason for doing so is adequate while the text seems to argue that Liu Bei not taking action was a failing on his part. It honestly reminds me a lot of the route split in Tactics Ogre, where not massacring civilians in a false flag operation is meant to be the path to chaos, as overseen by a god of darkness, because the player put their own sense of right and wrong above doing what needed to be done to end the conflict (even though the law path makes it very clear that the massacre was a horrible thing to do and that you should feel bad for supporting it even if it’s the only means of the three main characters all surviving the game).

Maybe that was part of Liu Bei’s problem, that while he could accept such acts as necessary while doing so he forgot that they were supposed to be bad things resulting in an emperor who is a pale shadow of the guy we followed for 80+ chapters. The book opens with text saying he wanted to be emperor since he was a child, so maybe he wasn’t sincerely virtuous but instead cultivated such an image for his own benefit. I mean, after all he manages to convince some of the best minds and warriors to his side because of his supposed virtue. That’s how a Confucian leader is supposed to role, people are supposed to be attracted to and support them because of their benevolence. But at the same time, the leader is supposed to act for the good of the people rather than themselves, never really imposing their rule outside of maintaining order. Ideally, someone reluctant to lead in the first place, seeing it as a duty rather than a right.

But in that case, Liu Bei demonstrates the power of virtue through his rise while his fall demonstrates how important it is for that virtue to be sincere. That lack of sincerity was a slow poison for Liu Bei, a man willing to goes from staying behind to protect civilians fleeing Cao Cao’s massacre to wanting to burn Wu to the ground. His story is a tragedy comparable to Shakespeare, brought about by his own failings must like Guan Yu and Zhang Fei’s. All he can do at the end is urge his sons to be better than him, to be virtuous where he failed.

Liu Bei isn’t an ideal, he’s a warning. And maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't bring out your own supposed virtue to place yourselves above others. Seems like a dick move, especially when you lose.

Zhuge Liang is also held up to be an ideal of virtue, but considering I know how his last campaign plays out I doubt I'm going to see things that way.

[selormohene]

day 70 (monday, september 11th 2023)

(Finishing up early Tuesday morning; this ended up being a long and involved one)

A few months ago I read an article on the 20th century black middle class of DC in the City Journal (I think it was) by, of all people, Tucker Carlson. Now it was curious the tone he struck which, although unmistakably conservative, appears now in my memory as having been quite conciliatory and nothing like I'd expect from Tucker Carlson. There was one thing though he said that stuck with me. He said that part of what made the DC black élite a valuable presence for the DC black community as a whole was that they were snobs: they made a point of refusing to associate or be associated with the gangsters and athletes and so on, and thus by this differentiation offered a different aspirational model for the black community. Now there is of course a lot to be said about this — about placing together gangsters and athletes (again this is a summary from memory) for instance, or about the élitism which is stated frankly in those terms, as opposed to under the aspect of advocating for values which in fact happen to be those of the élite. But the point about snobbery is the one that I'd like to write about today.

The reason that article comes to mind, besides the fact that I've been reading a lot of cultural critique in this center-right vein lately, is that there was a conversation on Twitter recently about this — on discriminating in one's personal association in favour of people who are married to the people they have kids with, or not dating or being friends with "deadbeats," or whatever. Of course there has been backlash from people who say that we shouldn't negatively criticise people who are in bad structural situations especially since we're all black and we shouldn't think we're better than them, and so on and so forth. I want to talk about the first-order debate to some extent, but I'm only interested in addressing it obliquely, through the higher-level question of the causation of one's actions and social existence, and what it has to do with one's responsibility for who one is.

Consider the question of being a snob, looking down one's nose for instance at people who aren't married to the people they have kids with. Now there's the idea that as a matter of fact we shouldn't disapprove of people who aren't married to the people they have kids with, or of families which don't fit the monogamous parent model; we shouldn't see that state of affairs as less preferable than the monogamous parent model. But then there's also the question of whether, given that we do see that state of affairs as less preferable, it is fair to criticise people in that state of affairs. Because what I've heard on that front is people saying, "well you shouldn't be a snob because people are in this situation through no fault of their own, maybe they didn't realise the guy wouldn't be involved in their children's lives or they weren't in the sort of social position which would have enabled them to choose differently, or maybe no woman is in that social position which gives them genuine choice, even people who do get married and have fewer kids are also just under different constraints, the constraints of the classed woman whose pathway to success involves climbing up the capitalist ladder." This sort of argument grants that not having the father of your children involved in their life is bad, but it says even if the state of affairs is bad the people in that state of affairs are not to be blamed. The underlying idea here is that it's only fair to be a snob about things that people have genuine abilities to do something about — but it's still compatible with that idea to say that you can be a snob if the situation is such that the person in question could have chosen otherwise.

But there’s also the question of stigma: can you really say that you disapprove of certain life choices in your friends or whatever (because they can make "better" choices) while genuinely saying you don’t think less of people who have far less liberty to make those choices? In theory, of course, you can, but might not the value differential in the outcomes simply come to be associated, by psychological mechanisms which we find difficult to rein in, with the people that fall under the outcomes we value less? (Again, the Loury book was great for introducing me to this idea. I'll have to read the Goffman book.) That is how strongly can you continue hold to the view that certain such choices in a given vein are “better” or "worse" but the people who can't make those choices aren't to be assessed in such terms? It's a difficult question. In some cases of course it seems like we simply don't find it plausible to give up the differential value judgment. Recall for instance the person who argued, “poor people only have access to junk food, so junk food is good actually.” The motivation behind this sort of argument is understandable; one wants to avoid stigma, and avoiding stigmatising people in the state in question is then conflated with not negatively evaluating the state. But we should be able to notice that certain distinctions hold at least in theory, even if they are difficult to maintain in practice. Noting that structural factors constrain people’s options or ability to choose well, or change what counts as rational for them to do, isn’t the same as saying that for people who don’t have much of a choice whatever outcome results is ultimately good. It's also not the same as saying that for people who aren't as constrained we must approve of their choice whatever it may be. But then part of the problem is that it may be hard to draw a principled distinction between those who "should have chosen better" and those who "didn't have much of a choice." To restate the point I keep returning to in this entry, having (negative) judgments about the value of a state is not the same as blaming people who are in that state. But then there's the more difficult question about whether we can blame people who have chosen to be in that state and who think it’s good, which returns to the initial question of whether we should disapprove of the state in question or not to begin with.

This is, incidentally, part of a tension in liberal politics (or progressive liberalism, or "woke" politics). On the one hand, the liberal impulse wants to avoid invoking substantive value judgments: it's anti-Catholic integralism, for instance. It wants to recognise a plurality of choices of values, to let people be, to respect difference. But on the other hand, the progressive element seems to want to invoke substantive values — worker solidarity, emancipation from oppression, freedom to be who you are. These aren't just what we must settle for to avoid the risk of tyranny or bad options winning out, these are good in themselves. The problem is that when you combine these sorts of impulses, what you end up wanting to do is to celebrate difference, to affirm the choiceworthiness of the different choices that people make. Now in the abstract celebrating difference isn't necessarily a bad thing, nor is affirming different people choosing different things. Life isn't one-size-fits-all and the true is the whole. Even Hegel the centrist Prussian statist knew that. But the problem comes when one finds oneself perhaps having to affirm apparently contradictory values, or to disapprove of values but approve of their affirmation by others, or to hide one's hand when it comes to disapproval of certain values.

(So there was for instance a case where a Muslim contingent in a certain town didn't want Pride flags flying on government buildings. But both the LGBTQ people and Muslims would count as groups which are to be celebrated in their diversity. What to do in this situation? It seems like one solution which is proposed is to argue that ultimately all the diverse groups are compatible, that Islam is actually progressive on issues of sexuality, which ends up pleasing nobody partly because part of what defines some of these ideologies is that they are in opposition to others; some LGBTQ people don't want their values to have to be compatible with a given religion in order to be accepted or celebrated, and some religious people don't want their values to have to be compatible with a given ideology concerning sex and sexuality in order to be celebrated and accepted.)

Anyway, back to the question of blame and agency. One doesn’t want to take the condescending attitude that poor people or structurally oppressed people are just pawns of the system without any agency, especially if one lives one's own life as though one can make better or worse decisions even under constraint. To say "oh poor you, it's not your fault, don't feel bad" and then, sotto voce, "couldn't be me though," is in itself rather patronising, and a symptom of the same classism that is levelled as an accusation at people who say “people in bad social situations should do better” (and to be clear some of those people are indeed classist). And yet one doesn't want to blame those people for having chosen what one thinks was the "worse" thing to do. The problem is that treating people as having agency is a way of respecting their personhood, and yet recognising agency and imparting blame are two uneasy sides of the same coin. Perhaps this is why the Marxist view that we must prescind from moral assessment and focus on structural change has something to recommend it. But then the question remains: can we really so prescind? In the medium term, at the interpersonal level, as opposed to in the long term and at the structural level, what is to be done?

This entire discussion brings me to another topic. Obviously I've been going over different views concerning social problems which hold that they can be addressed, although they disagree on the practical and moral value of attempting to address them in various ways. But there are of course people who subscribe to the view that various social problems can't be changed. Educational disparities can't be improved, poverty can't be alleviated, crime can't be reduced, etc. The arguments are often based on two things: (1) we've tried everything we can think of and it didn't happen, or (2) the science shows that it's not possible, some people are just going to be at the bottom of society forever. The curious thing about this scientistic attitude to questions of human behaviour is that it parallels an anti-scientific approach to the natural world, namely mysterianism about certain objects and/or fields of inquiry. It seems like saying some people who are in a bad situation can’t be helped because of science is similar to saying some things about the world can’t be known because of metaphysics. (And what passes for science in these discussions of social issues is rarely any better than dogmatic metaphysics.) And what's interesting is that, in either case, it’s not obviously impossible that such a thing might be true, yet in either case the correct response is nonetheless “not with that attitude.” We must assume that the world is knowable, and the world will reward that assumption; we must assume that society can be improved and society will (hopefully) reward that assumption.

I say hopefully because perhaps social change is harder and murkier than science; it could be argued that the success of science is proof of the underlying fact that the world is intrinsically knowable whereas the difficulty of social improvement is proof of the underlying fact that society isn’t inherently malleable. But actually it may just be that we’re doing the wrong things. I want to argue that actually we say science is successful but that's just us focusing on the success cases and papering over the hard stuff, with a little help from our belief in the intrinsic knowability of the world, which in its extreme forms can take the form of the absolute idealism of the analytic Hegelians — including, apparently, Tim Williamson! — which states that to be is to be thinkable or knowable. Then again though it seems like we're not at similar liberty to decide whether or not society can be improved by focusing on the success stories because the question we're interested in isn't "have some outcomes been improved" but "have we been able to improve the particular outcomes we want to improve." But that's also a case where we're being helped by our prior belief in the immutability of society. I'll have to think more about this.

[stygiusfic]

hijacking this beautiful post, which is full of good insights, to add my perspective as a serial befriender:

✨️how to make fandom friends 101✨️

First, an important distinction that rook also made, because I feel it's worth repeating: a "fandom friend" isn't necessarily someone who will read/look at all your work/follow you through fandoms, nor should they have to be. They'll most often be people who happen to like the same characters or media, that you enjoy talking to and become close with (hopefully beyond that initial common interest). They can (and likely will!) encourage you to create whatever you like, but don't get sucked into the idea that their support is incomplete unless they read all your stuff.

Think of it this way: if you were an aspiring chef, and had friends who like food, you wouldn't (or shouldn't) consider their support of your dreams less real if they don't try every single dish you make. This is the same principle.

It's natural to want your friends to like the stuff you make. We all want that, and we're happy when it happens. But it's not something you can force or expect. (And besides, your friends' enthusiasm is a lot more rewarding when they don't feel obligated to give it.)

OKAY, NOW WE GET INTO THE MEAT OF IT.

This is, in broad strokes, how I've made about 90% of the many close (and not-so-close, and intermittently-close) fandom friends I've had over the past decade and a half.

Look for people in your fandom whose work you like (whether that's art, fic, meta, gifsets on tumblr, whatever) or who you think would be interesting to talk to. Maybe they like the same things you like, or you like their vibe, etc.

Tell those people that you like their work. Talk to them. The person who sent that ask was very brave in doing so and very kind about it, and I think that's a good attitude to have. The truth is you can't be friends with someone who doesn't know you're around. At this stage, think of yourself as someone who sees a stranger wearing a cool hat and says, "hey, I love your hat!". The person you're complimenting likely won't become your friend on the spot, but you've probably made their day a bit brighter, and they'll probably remember you for that. Isn't that nice?

Caveat: the compliment on their hat/fic/art is not a down payment to buy their friendship. The goal is simply to gift them a bit of joy in the midst of whatever else they have going on. (That is also, ultimately, the point of all friendships, as well as the point of fandom.)

Showing up often helps; repetition is key. This is why it's famously easier to make friends in school than out in the world: school gives you a place where you'll be meeting the same other people regularly, and you have something already in common with them that becomes a basis for friendship. Fandom also gives you a common link, so you just need to complete that by being around often. A lot of my fandom friends started out being people I admired whose work I engaged with often, because I loved seeing it and wanted to let them know.

Discord servers are great for making fandom friends, btw: even if you're not there 24/7, if you take part in conversations here and there, and you're not a complete jerk, often people will become fond of you over time, just by virtue of familiarity. That may be a jumping-off point for one-on-one conversations and friendships.

An optional step that I enjoy: like a cat that brings you a dead mouse as a show of affection, I like to make fanworks for people I consider cool. I'm a writer, so if I see fanart that sparks my imagination, I will sometimes write a little fic based on that and send a link to the artist. I don't expect them to read it or like it, though I'll be happy if they do. My intention is, again, to let them know their work has moved me; it's a more convoluted version of the "nice hat!" compliment.

And finally, an important caveat: sometimes an attempt at friendship won't pan out, and that's ok. Maybe you want to be someone's friend, but they don't want to be closer than casual fandom acquaintances. Or maybe you start talking to someone you admire, and then realize, "actually, I really like their work, but I don't enjoy talking to them very much". That's fine! It happens! Conversely, you'll also meet people you love talking to, but their work is not your cup of tea at all; in which case you can still be friends and encourage each other even if you're not engaging with the work.

TL;DR:

Talk to people you want to befriend. Be kind. Be thoughtful. Show interest in them, as creators and as people. If you hit it off, congratulations! You've made a friend! If not, respect their boundaries and don't push! Move on!✨️ There are other friends waiting for you ✨️

hello! how do you find consistent friends in fandom? as in, how do you find people who stick with you through different fandoms and listen and read your work. also, how long have you been writing for and how long did it take you to get so good at writing and character analysis.... your work is such an inspiration to me, genuinely one of my top 3 authors across ao3. i hope the writing goes well!

hey! this is really sweet, thank you very much for your lovely kind words. 💖

re: friendship: i don't mean to be a downer about this so i hope it doesn't come across this way, but i do think the concept of friends where you follow each other through all your fandoms and continue to read each other's work etc kind of... either doesn't exist or is just a rare phenomenon and not a 'type' of friend per se more than it is something that just happens out of luck. i am lucky enough to have friendships which have persisted through all of us changing fandoms, but the reason those friendships last is actually because we found connections that went beyond common interests. i think sharing a fandom/interest is great as an initial point of connection and a way to meet, but for a relationship to last, you need to have a deeper bond than both being into the same thing--so contrary to what you've asked about (oops sorry) those friendships im speaking of only last because we didn't follow each other into different fandoms, really. we didn't have to. along the same vein, i'd respectfully argue that it wouldn't be productive or fair of me to group 'reading my work' in as an element of friendship, so to speak--i definitely don't expect my friends to read my fic and vice versa, we all understand that we can support each other in our creative pursuits and lives in general / in the abstract without needing to be a fan of the same things or even necessarily being fans of each other's work (although of course it's always nice). i know this doesn't really answer your specific question but i hope it doesn't come across as pessimistic as it might sound. i truly and genuinely believe it's a positive thing that the idealised friendgroup traipsing through fandoms together doesn't really exist (or if it does exist, it's luck and not something to shoot for in itself), because this just tells me to look out for these great opportunities to form bonds that last beyond superficial interests.

in terms of how to make those friendships to begin with, im honestly even less help. my friendships kind of just happened to me. im actually quite terrible at reaching out to people and i am notoriously difficult to reach myself hahaha so honestly all the credit for my friendships goes to my friends for being patient and sticking with me despite that. i am honestly just very lucky in that i've been able to talk out loud into the void and have had wonderful people reach out to me because of it, but that's hardly a reliable strategy... i guess i'd encourage you to be more like my friends, who are the anime protagonists wielding the power of friendship to my prickly antagonist, or whatever. oh another thing to remember i guess is that some friendships just don't last this way and will stay within fandoms and may peter out, and that's ok. i don't consider those relationships less real or valuable for being less lasting.

re: writing: i want to caveat that i don't think i'm fairly able to say (or comfortable saying) that i'm particularly good at writing or character analysis, certainly not to an extent that i'd be willing to hold myself up as an example of it, but i really appreciate that you feel that way about my work and am incredibly honoured to be considered an inspiration in any capacity!!

with that disclaimer made, i'll do my best to answer for whatever it's worth. i've liked writing ever since i was a very little kid, but i will credit any actual progress i've made in developing the skill to writing fanfic because i think that being able to focus on building character and logical flow in plot progression over other things like creating characters, worldbuilding, inventing plots wholesale, etc--which has allowed me to sort of expedite those skills in particular and which i think are helpful in writing more broadly. (this also answers the 'character analysis' part specifically--when you don't have to/get to invent a character, you have to spend more time taking them apart.) anyway, i started writing fic about twelve or thirteen years ago, and there have been periods within that where i've progressed faster or slower depending what's going on in my life haha. i do think time played a massive role in any skill developments i've made, but i also know people take less time or more time to make similar progress (caveat again: progression is subjective, this is very approximate), so i think the other key ingredient besides time is engagement. if it's helpful, i went into that a little bit more here, but as stated i have a lot more to learn and would never present myself as an expert lol

[500days-of-autumn]

2:16 pm, 12th of july '23

Last night, I finally read the au that all my friends have been suggesting to me: Exile. I was told that it is a very heart-wrenching story and that I should prepare myself for the sadness I'm about to feel.

I wonder what could've hurt me more when I just finished reading a Land Meets Sky, a story that made my heart feel sadness, contentment, and loved --- all at the same time.

Funny enough, I was wrong.

Exile made me bawl inside my room at around 1 am just as I was starting it. It felt so familiar.

Ji had always wanted nothing but a future with Suk. Suk or nothing, actually. And for years, he had built this idea that the dream is Suk. I was also like Ji.

But the thing is, Suk had always aspired for more. Dreams include the future with Ji, but at the same time, his dreams aren't just Ji. And this difference between Suk and Ji made me realize that sometimes, even if we tried to make things work for the betterment of both parties, it is still better to go on our own.

I kept asking myself: Who really is in the fault here? Was it Ji whose only wish was assurance from Suk? Or was it Suk who took huge efforts just to give Ji his dream wedding?

The thing with life is that sometimes the blame isn't with the people involved, but with what was really destined with us. This was what made me cry heavily last night; both Ji and Suk blaming themselves, but constantly reassuring the other that they shouldn't do so.

Sigh.

Recalling Exile in my mind makes my chest feel constrained, like I couldn't breathe. I would've never survived seeing the person I love the most walk away from me, on our wedding day, with his eyes emotionless from everything that happened.

I resonate with Ji a lot. I keep thinking what it must've felt for Ji seeing Suk walk away while he was so excited to see him walk towards him. What hurts more is Ji turning his back from the door and slightly peeking to see if Suk has come back.

He hoped. And that sucks more because he was holding on to that tiny little piece of hope that maybe, Suk will change his mind. But could you blame Suk though?

Suk was tired. Even on their wedding day, their friend saw in his own eyes that he was tired. Just like what they say, the eyes never lie. As he approached the altar and Ji, his eyes showed nothing because he was already drained.

Isn't it ironic how our main source of energy and happiness can someday be the one who drains us out? In just a snap, all because his feet led him walking towards the front door, a home suddenly turned into a house, and the vows remained never promised to the other.

The ending of Exile was bittersweet, but heavy on the bitter. It's Ji finding the sparkle in Suk's eyes, even more glittery than when they were together, at the time that Suk announced that he's getting married again.

And again, I couldn't fathom what must've been in Ji's mind that exact moment. What could hurt you more than realizing you're just someone's life lesson, someone's cause of character development?

And Suk may have been happy with someone now, but Ji was still in that same apartment where memories of them in love with each other are still buried deep in the walls.

It's like seeing every corner and the only thing you can think about is the love that was once shared in those spots. Everything screams about him.

And for Ji, that was enough.

[romitricrazed]

I love this scene

His protests were cut off by a feminine scream. A small Moroi boy, no more than six, had suddenly broken from the crowd and run toward us. It was his mother who had screamed. I moved in to stop him, grabbing his arm. I wasn't afraid that Dimitri would hurt him, only that the boy's mother would have a heart attack. She came forward, face grateful.

"I have questions," the boy, obviously trying to be brave, said in a small voice.

His mother reached for him, but I held up my hand. "Hang on a sec." I smiled down at him. "What do you want to ask? Go ahead." Behind him, fear flashed over his mother's face, and she cast an anxious look at Dimitri. "I won't let anything happen to him," I whispered, though she had no way of knowing I could back that up. Nonetheless, she stayed where she was.

Reece rolled his eyes. "This is ridic--"

"If you're Strigoi," the boy interrupted loudly, "then why don't you have horns? My friend Jeffrey said Strigoi have horns."

Dimitri's eyes fell not on the boy but on me for a moment. Again, that spark of knowing shot between us. Then, face smooth and serious, Dimitri turned to the boy and answered, "Strigoi don't have horns. And even if they did, it wouldn't matter because I'm not Strigoi."

"Strigoi have red eyes," I explained. "Do his eyes look red?"

The boy leaned forward. "No. They're brown."

"What else do you know about Strigoi?" I asked.

"They have fangs like us," the boy replied.

"Do you have fangs?" I asked Dimitri in a singsong voice. I had a feeling this was already-covered territory, but it took on a new feel when asked from a child's perspective.

Dimitri smiled--a full, wonderful smile that caught me off guard. Those kinds of smiles were so rare from him. Even when happy or amused, he usually only gave half smiles. This was genuine, showing all his teeth, which were as flat as those of any human or dhampir. No fangs.

The boy looked impressed. "Okay, Jonathan," said his mother anxiously. "You asked. Let's go now."

"Strigoi are super strong," continued Jonathan, who possibly aspired to be a future lawyer. "Nothing can hurt them." I didn't bother correcting him, for fear he'd want to see a stake shoved through Dimitri's heart. In fact, it was kind of amazing that Reece hadn't already requested that. Jonathan fixed Dimitri with a piercing gaze. "Are you super strong? Can you be hurt?"

"Of course I can," replied Dimitri. "I'm strong, but all sorts of things can still hurt me."

And then, being Rose Hathaway, I said something I really shouldn't have to the boy. "You should go punch him and find out."

Jonathan's mother screamed again, but he was a fast little bastard, eluding her grasp. He ran up to Dimitri before anyone could stop him--well, I could have--and pounded his tiny fist against Dimitri's knee.

Then, with the same reflexes that allowed him to dodge enemy attacks, Dimitri immediately feinted falling backward, as though Jonathan had knocked him over. Clutching his knee, Dimitri groaned as though he were in terrible pain.

Several people laughed, and by then, one of the other guardians had caught hold of Jonathan and returned him to his near-hysterical mother. As he was being dragged away, Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at Dimitri. "He doesn't seem very strong to me. I don't think he's a Strigoi."

-Spirit Bound, Richelle Mead

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

@sleeplesssmoll True that about her mother. Like a little animal indeed. An older her still searching though would have worked for me as well, I agree.

Yeah but we don't know if knowing what to do with other characters was because she knew or because she winged it xD. Again because of the argument I mentioned that she obviously didn't know what to do. Also it's interesting take, but it just hit me that the characters you mentioned with whom she knew what to do happen to have several similarities to Vertin, hence why I think she could indeed know what she was doing with them. Druvis is a loner, she had expressed how her only place was the forest, that this is what she wanted to protect etc. In a way Vertin too doesn't know where she belongs but she too has sth to protect. Her knowing what to do in that case comes from relatability. She did what she probably wish others did for her. Jessica is another loner. One completely cut out from the world at first. All she knew was the forest around the lake and Blonney. She too tried to attack everyone cause she wanted to keep Blonney close and protect her too. So I feel that with her too, Vertin acted based on relatability. Schneider. She didn't know what to do at first, she didn't even know where Schneider stood. When she saw her hesitation and realized she was doing all she did because she had no choice, but still wanted to protect her sister, it comes back down to "where is my place in this world, where do i belong". She too sailed alone, but she would still do anything to protect the one thing she knew mattered to her, her sisters. And having Manus controlling her and forcing her hand also hits close to Vertin. Cause she has never been that into the ways of the Foundation. And sometimes she has to find loophole after loophole to help everyone without the Foundation harming or taking things and rights from other arcanists. Vertin is not free. She is given power so I think she still feels trapped. That's why everything went down with the voting while she was sleeping and even Lilya helped. Finally you mentioned Regulus. Regulus is very similar to the rest but responds differently to her not feeling no place like home. She doesn't want one. She liked to sail around in her little ship and all that mattered to her was that ship, her records and Mr. Apple. Perhaps Vertin sees Regulus as someone she aspires to be; more open and carefree, effusive with emotions and without caring so much where she is and with whom. I don't know Vertin knew what to do with her. Cause she literally just asked her to trust her. She didn't need much to be convinced xD. Especially after seeing the world around her melt with her own eyes. I remember she was a bit hesitant at first but after the world started going crazy she was like oh hell nah, take me away big hatted girl! xD So yeah it could be that she naturally knew what she was doing in those occasions as you say, it could be simply cause relating to those people was easier than say Spathodea oooor she winged it xD. Like perhaps having seen similar people in her youth and how they were handled by teachers and learnt. Also I think we shouldn't ignore that Foundations kids did learn a lot about teamwork and politics at their school. We can imagine it from how the rest of them speak, like look how Z almost turnt everyone to her side and Sonetto, even though scared, she did speak up in a very professional way in support of that dude in court. So Vertin's debating skills ought to be good enough based on her studies, even if she wasn't the best student among her peers.

Yup. Shamane is sb who tried to deal with things as an adult and indeed didn't have all the answers. In fact, his doubts were still there due to unresolved trauma and the answer, funny enough, came from the smallest kid among everyone. I loved how Kanjira woke him up. Because Kanjira grew up in the streets, she learnt from the hardships of life from a very young age and had no standards to fit in. Shamane was like a caged bird, he couldn't speak up for the longest time. So sb had to tell him that it's ok to do some things that for years he thought weren't ok because of his childhood brainwashing. Also kids tend to be more fearless so, he needed to remember how to take risks. This is also very true to life. The more we grow up, most people tend to "cower down". They could be the wildest kids in their youth but due to having to follow more rules and not really risk stuff after becoming adults, they forget how it's like taking chances and even grow fearful of them.

I see what you mean about SPDM kids.

I unfortunately don't know much about the anecdotes. Due to playing the game in front of a crowd for youtube, i tend to play them only when i record and because the limited events take most of my time I've only done Charlie's and Oliver's so far. Out of the two only Oliver's had an interaction with Vertin and even then she didn't push anything. It was Mr. Knight that pushed Oliver see the truth and face his grief for what it trully was. I can't think of a moment Vertin was more like you mention in the suitcase so feel free to give me an example.

About the meta take, I'm afraid I'll have to disagree because, the limited events are pretty much stuff that co-exist with the main story, they aren't as separate as anecdotes are, so while she doesn't take center stage, her being there was important enough I think to interfere. And even if it was so, even if it was because she is not supposed to take the spotlight, why didn't Ulu and Desert say anything. Desert had many lines and she's a sassy one too but didn't interfere. I have my thoughts why, but I don't think it was to let them cool off. I see. Well I don't think it would have worked without her though I dunno. For example in Kaalaa's story it didn't make sense for her to be there so she wasn't, same for the current patch. The Uluru stadium had to be checked by high ranked arcanists because it seems to be immune to the storm, so if not Vertin, I think some Laplace arcanist or Sonetto would have been sent to check it out. So yeah while she was there to connect things only, I think she could have stopped the argument or just intervened without really taking the spotlight. In fact, I think that if there was no reason for her staying quiet, I think she shouldn't even be in the room in that moment. She could have been outside dealing with I dunno some paperwork or contacting the Hat character again.

I see. Just to clarify, I don't think Vertin is kind out of naivity. You didn't say that of course, I am just clarifying that's not where I see naivity in her. She has always been super kind so it's part of her personality I think.

Yeah but if you notice many of the arcanists on her side rn aren't that strong. For example Laplace arcanists are with her for their brains, not their powers. Sonetto is there cause she was assigned to her as sb the Foundation thinks is a good pet and if Vertin went berserk she would let them know (good one cause she is now attached to her compared to when she was a child but ok xD) etc etc. She would have had an army still but not for as many different things she needs them now.

Well Sonetto and Mathilda were in the same class so if she and Mathilda aren't 19 they are both 14 which doesn't make sense for them both to be graduated students of the Foundation and with the little medal they wear too. (The game says sth about it and being a top student in Mathilda's character page) Also when Vertin was preparing to leave the Foundation with the little group of kids, we had a visual of her talking with both Sonetto and Mathilda and well, they didn't seem as young as they should be if we really accepted they are currently 14. I don;t remember the exact ages rn, but let's say Vertin was 16 when the kids got out to the storm. If Vertin's age difference with the other two was 5 years, they would have been 11 years old back then....well they all looked like babies to me xD but we know that short hair Sonetto was a kid kid, and long hair Sonetto, but shorter height was a teen. So yeah based on the visuals and how things transpired I think they are the same age, aka so are Mathilda and Mesmer Jr.

Yup I agree about what you said about Vertin working better from inside the Foundation. And how if they were older it would add more depth. But in general, I think, they are not trying as hard with Vertin as they try with others. She is still a bit of your typical main character in a story with many other characters. At least so far that is, she might change in the future and have way more depth but so far she doesn't openly show us a lot of depth compared to others. She is mostly there experiencing everyone's stories and slowly finding herself. I see. We will agree to disagree there because like I said in my previous reply Vertin and several others, not all of them, do add a bit more fragility to things by being young and inexperienced. I would trust an experienced adult character more than I trust Vertin or other young kids doing things. Like Sotheby's stories greatly amuse me but every time she's about to take sth into her hands I am like "please don't mess it up. ;;" but she's very lucky in all her clumsiness and it always works out in the end. xD

...yeah i can't answer that, I come from a country that kids drink from ages 12-14 and it isn't a problem. xD They don't let you get drunk but you can get access to it xD. As for punishing her like an adult, excuse me but I wouldn't consider the Foundation very child-friendly xD. This is not a factor for thought to me, that's because the Foundation is corrupted as fuck. They literally let rebelling kids go out in the storm as punishment for disobeying. There is no logic or reasoning to that to base anything off of it, so please don't do this to your brain xD. The rest yeah, are very young adult coded in how people treat her. But let's be real, every big head in the Foundation treats others as small brainless animals that all they have to do is obey so yeah, even there I wouldn't focus too much on her age, but on their being narcissistic bastards.

No problem I like discussing my views on the game, and other games too. ^^ I'm a writer so I tend to analyze characters and plots a lot, in general. Yup yup, totally got it and it was more than welcome. ^^ Thank you for reading my essay of an opinion as well. ^o^

One thing I'd change about Reverse 1999.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder why Vertin and the others are so young. It's like the anime problem where they're so reluctant to use young adults/adults even though it'd make more sense in terms of immersion. Or they make a character look young but they're actually very old.

Matilda is 14.

Tooth Fairy is 25! I read her as at least 28-30ish. To put that into perspective, Blonney is 20 and Horrorpedia is 21 which I can see. They made Zima 29 so I know it's possible!

From a story standpoint, I read Vertin as at least 19, and that's including the trauma that forced her to be the mature and stoic Timekeeper. Her charisma, ability to travel the world on her own, and experience in the field made me think of one who is old enough to deal with problems but not quite at the level where they have all the answers. Also her travels and sneaking around in places she shouldn't be would be easier if she's older. For example, more job opportunities, the ability to get a license etc. 19 is a transitional stage where she's both a kid and adult. Although, you could say this about a 16yo Vertin too but it feels...different. like a different type of transition happens during these ages but I can't put my finger on it.

Idk if I can really put this feeling into words because that's all it is really. Certain characters ages don't "feel" right.

On a completely unrelated note, I want an arcanist that looks like your stereotypical witch with a point hat and black cat! She seems like a scary grumpy lady (70), but she actually has butterscotch in her pockets and and a big ol' loving heart in her chest.

I also want a Salem trials "witch" who is actually an arcanist.

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

The Stray

Summary: You find a kitten on your walk and somehow have to convince your boyfriend to let you keep him.

Words: 1.4k

Characters: Reader x Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Kitten.

Warnings: Fluff, so much fluff, bonding with the baby bat, helping a lost kitten.

"It's following us," you said to Dick, turning to pick up the kitten that had been following you for the last two blocks “maybe it needs a good home?" You cradled the dirt covered kitten in your arms.

"It's not. It's just doing its normal neighbourhood check," He said, his heart softening when he saw your adorable face holding the kitten in your arms.

'But it's so cute and look, love. It's covered in fleas, this poor baby needs a home," you pouted at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes while sticking out your bottom lip.

"We can't just be bringing home every lost little kitten you find because they look like they need some love,"

"Why not?" You pout even harder, fluttering your eyelashes at him. You held the sad looking kitty up, hoping its sad little face will help your cause.

"Because our apartment isn't big enough," he sighed, running his hand over his face.

"Remind me again, where are we going?"

"To pick Damian and Tim up from school," you give him a look, raising your eyebrows up at him, he seemed to get what you were implying, "Right,"

"Bruce said it was ok to pick up strays and bring them home. Shouldn't I aspire to be more like him?" you smiled, wrapping the little bundle in your scarf.

“No honey, you're perfect the way you are,” Dick smiled down at you, holding you close to block out the chill of the winter wind, “how about this, we bring it home, clean it up and you can find it a new home?” he mumbled into your hair.

You arrive at the school just in time to meet the boys after class. Tim is still holding his coffee mug in his hand when he spots the two of you, rolling his eyes as he leans against the school gate. Damian looks just as displeased as always, "I'm smarter than the teachers here, why do I have to go?" He whined at his brother, Dick saying nothing as he pulled him in for a quick hug. He was right though, the pair of them were both smarter than you would ever be and you figured Bruce had just sent them here to get them socialised. 

Squeezing the little bundle under your arm, you knew someone would appreciate your new friend.

“Damian! Damian! Look what I found,” you cried, excitedly running up to the boy who was hiding his amusement behind a book. You wouldn't have that, thrusting the kitten over the book and towards his face.

“He is very cute, he looks malnourished and are those fleas?” he said, raising his eyebrow at you. He took the little kitten from your arms, tucking him into his jacket.

“Yes, how did you know it was a He?” you asked, but not really surprised that he would.

“I just know,” he smirked confidently under his brow at you.

“Wanna come over and help me clean him up?” Your eyes shifting from Dick to Damian, you had been trying so hard to find an in with this kid and this would be just the thing.

Dick had taken Tim home, while you and Damian had gone to the store to pick up supplies to clean this little critter up. He insisted on getting all the best things for your new friend including a $70 bottle of shampoo. You didn't know why it had to be that one, but trusted that Damian knew what he was doing.

You arrived home to your tiny apartment before Dick, sending him a quick text asking when he’d be home. He replied immediately letting you know he’d be staying back at the manor to help Tim with ‘homework’. 

“We need to get him in the bathroom,” Damian said, shutting the door behind you so your new friend can’t spread fleas through your house, “Hold him, yes. Like that,” he said, handing you the fancy brush, “Now you need to start at the ends, to get the barbs out,” you followed his instructions, working to groom some of the knots and barbs from the kitty's fur. 

Damian started preparing the bath, placing one of the spare towels along the bottom before filling it an inch deep with warm water. His eyes glanced over to you every few minutes while he checked the temperature of the water. You made sure to follow his instructions to the tee lest you be given the Wayne family scowl.

“Hold him just like this,” he instructed you, moving the kitten around in your hands “Don’t move him. I’m going to start and I don’t want to cut him,”

“Ok good,” he said and you feel your heart swell just a tiny bit. He doesn't look at you as he cautiously clips the knots you couldn't brush away and gently washed the dirt from his fur. You watched intently as this tiny little assassin used such care and grace to clean up the stray, a smile lighting up your face when the dirt is finally washed away, “He's a ginger, I didn't even see under all the dirt.” Damian says excitedly, grabbing the warm towel from under him and picking the kitten up and wrapping him up.

“He’s so cute,” you cooed, reaching out to pat him on the head. How were you supposed to just find this little cutie a new home? He was so adorable maybe you could convince Dick to let you keep him.

“He's perfect,” Damian said, drying him off before setting the little guy on his feet, “Hello, Mr West. You’re going to like it here. My big brother with take good care of you,” he patted the little kitten on the head, before standing. 

“Dick said we can’t keep him,” you opened, the fridge grabbing out some snacks and setting them on the counter.              

“I’m vegetarian,” Damian said, like you didn’t know.

“Yeah, little dude, I know,” you pulled out a glass of Orange juice and set it infront of him with a cold glass, “Hence the salami, which is for me not you.” The young man eyed you, peering from the plate of cut up fruit and back to you, like he was seeing you for the first time. He took a helping of humus onto his carrot stick and continued eating while you pottered around making a start on dinner. “Should we go and check on Mr West?” you asked when you had everything prepared to throw your meal together when Dick got home.

“I’ll go check on him,” he said, hopping down from the stool and heading into the bathroom. 

You phone rings and you see its Dick calling, “Hey love, what’s up? You going to be home soon?”

“Not far away, Tim's project took longer than I though. I'm nearly home,”

“See you soon,” you said hanging up the call, “So how's he going?” you asked Damian when he repapered.

“Scared, but he’s crawled up in your laundry basket, he’ll be asleep soon.”

“Thank you for all your help. I wish I could keep him, but you know how Dick can be,”

“I do. Let me handle it.” he said in a matter of fact tone.

“What?”

“Grayson is a soft touch. I will handle him.” he says confidently, “DO you require my assistance with dinner?”

“I’m all good, do you need help with your homework?”

He says nothing, just looking at you like he can't believe you just asked him that. His gaze almost immediately turning back to his workbook while you put dinner together.

“Honey, I’m home.” Dick called from the front door, but instead of you he’s greeted by a wide eyed boy tugging on his sleeve.

“Grayson, you need to see this,” he says, dragging his brother into the bathroom. Where he had positioned you, the kitten resetting in your arms half asleep, your own eyes looking up at the love of your life. You saw the his eyes narrow down at his brother, “This is your doing,”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Damian said, feigning innocence, “I just thought they looked really comfy. Plus if you kept Mr West, I’d have to come check on him all the time,”

“You’re both evil,” he glares at the both of you giving him those sweet doe eyes, “Ugh, fine,” he sighed, “you can keep- Mr West was it?”

“Yeah, Dami named him.”

“Dami?” he peered down at his little brother who was not protesting the nickname that you had just given him. Damian just shrugged, turning to head back into the kitchen. “Why West?” Dick asked you, taking a seat on the floor next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, 

“After Wally,” you kissed down onto his soft little ginger head, “You hear that little guy, you’re staying. Welcome to your new home Mr West,”