#these two make me so mentally ill it should be illegal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idyllic-affections · 2 years ago

Text

i know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.

summary. "Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."" trigger & content warnings for self-hatred, severe blood, major traumatic life events, depictions of trauma, panic attacks & a fuck ton of crying, implications of suicidal ideation but it is never explicitly stated in an obvious way, overall heavy on the themes of mental health, heavy spoilers for baizhu's story quest and childe's character stories, [name] is called pretty once. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. friends to strangers to friends, hurt/comfort. baizhu & childhood friend!reader, brief hints of childe & reader. 10k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. it is here. the fabled "friends to something significantly worse to friends again" fic is finally here (june if you're reading this, thank you for the idea lmaoo <33). btw! this post runs on the theory that skirk is associated with khaenri'ah. no idea what her personality is like so.... bear with me pls. she gives off "tired, bitter big sister" vibes in this fic. at one point, nightmare by set it off started playing while i was writing this and i think thats so fucking funny, that is so childhood friend![name]core. a LOT of ironic songs played while i was writing this actually! maybe ill make a post about it?

"What's the last thing on our list?"

Surely the sky had been painted by the Celestial Gods above—how else could one even hope to explain the otherworldly beauty it held? Pinks blended smoothly in with hues of golden orange and baby blue as the sun crept lower and lower towards the horizon. A few stars already dotted the evening sky, twinkling and sparkling against their background.

In the reflection of their eyes, the light danced.

Their friend hummed thoughtfully, brushing some of his hair away from his face, before scanning the words written in practically illegible handwriting inside the little journal the two's shared master had given them. "Violetgrass... I think."

"You think?" they echoed, amused, peering over his shoulder into the notebook. He shrugged.

"Master's handwriting isn't exactly... er, legible."

They giggled at that. "No doctor's is. I think it has something to do with how many prescriptions they have to write on a daily basis. Like... they have to write fast, so they have some kind of language of their own to be as efficient as possible."

"Is that so?"

"...Honestly, I don't know. Something like that, I guess."

He smiled at them, teasing, "Shouldn't you know better than anyone, [Name]?"

"Shut up, Baizhu, I'm still learning!" they huffed with faux annoyance, snatching the book from his hands. "Yeah, that says Violetgrass. Hm... you should probably go back, then. It's getting kind of late," they mused, meeting the boy's gentle burgundy gaze. "I've got it from here."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't mind going with you."

"I'm sure. I get Violetgrass on my own all the time. It gets cold at night, and with everything going on, it's probably better that only one of us goes out. Less of a chance of the sickness spreading further, you know?"

"I can't really argue with that," he admitted. "Alright, but don't stay out too late."

"Don't worry," they reassured, "I don't intend to."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Darkness had fallen by the time they reached their normal spot for gathering Violetgrass. Specks of glittery stars dotted the night sky; it took all of their mental strength to not sit and admire it. They would never get their task done if they did.

'The last time I did this with my bag on, I fell.'

With that thought in mind, they hummed and carefully took the cross-body bag filled to the brim with medicinal herbs off. They set it neatly to the side. Before beginning, they stretched, hoping to somehow make themselves more flexible and limber by doing so. A series of satisfying pops were released from their bones.

It was then that they began gingerly scaling the cliffside—it wasn't impossibly steep, and they'd done it an abundance of times in the past, so it didn't present too big of a challenge. It wasn't anything they weren't used to.

The ground then unexpectedly trembled beneath their feet. They huffed as their foot slipped, sending them sliding down a few feet and back onto solid ground. The single piece of Violetgrass that they needed seemed to mock their failure from its place several feet above them.

"Aw, come on..." they murmured, slightly frustrated. "Maybe I should have had Baizhu stay and help..."

Then, again without warning, just as they were about to make another attempt, the ground split open.

A scream was torn from their throat as they fell. It was as if Teyvat itself had swallowed them into its core. They made a a desperate attempt to reach for the surface, but as soon as they were in, the crack snapped shut once again. No matter how fast they fell, no kind of ground ever seemed to get any closer. Briefly through their terror, they wondered if this was how they'd die—falling into nothingness for eternity until they starved, mortal body eventually decaying into nothing and becoming one with the never-ending emptiness.

This was never meant to be how they'd die. Their death was supposed to be fated through Changsheng's contract, not through... this.

A sob ripped through their throat as their body unexpectedly slammed into the ground. Upon impact, they knew at least a handful of bones in their wrists had broken. Perhaps it was unwise to brace their fall with their wrists, but then again... it would have been far worse if they landed on their back. Breaking their back may very well have been a death sentence in the scenario they were in. Honestly, they were just thankful that their shoulders and forearms seemed to be okay, aside from a rhythmic throbbing coursing through both arms. Their body trembled pathetically like a leaf in the wind, ready to be blown away at any second. At least a leaf would see daylight or even moonlight.

It was pitch black for them, as if the darkness actively sought out and destroyed any source of light it was capable of finding. It seemed to sap any will they might've had to resist, to find a way out. Their will was gone. It was like it was never there in the first place. The ominous dark took all that determination, all that light, and consumed it like a starved beast until there was nothing but a shell left behind.

A deep pit settled in their gut as they whimpered, curling up into a ball. Surely, this was just a dream. An awful, terrible dream. They'd wake up and everything would be normal—they'd still be on the surface, gathering the last of their master's requested herbs before heading back and resuming their life as normal.

Regardless of whether or not this was a horrifying nightmare, sleeping was far more appealing than staying awake.

It was with tears rolling down their cheeks that they tucked their head into their arms, wincing at the shooting pain that ascended the length of their arms when too much pressure was applied to their wrists, and succumbed to the boundless darkness.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Time was an illusion.

That's how they felt, at least, because they had no idea how long they had been underneath Teyvat for. It could've been hours or it could've been days—they wouldn't know the difference either way. Everything was fuzzy. Their sleep was restless and interrupted; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't truly sleep. Even if they managed to fall asleep, they'd wake up again after a few minutes with a jolt and a wave of paranoia. What frustrated them so deeply about it was that they knew very well that their body would never heal if they didn't sleep well. They'd never have the strength to escape if that were the case. It was infuriating.

The distant echo of footsteps made their muscles tense. The sound ceased a few feet away from where they laid.

"You'll never survive down here like this."

A nervous whine threatened to leave their throat. They swallowed it down, hands trembling slightly.

"Get up. I can tell that you're awake."

Fuck.

With what minimal strength they did still have, they pushed themselves up using their elbows. Using their hands would only hurt them more. It was difficult to see, but nonetheless, they could see her eyes clearly. Empty, star-shaped irises stared down at them, piercing the very depths of their soul, picking them apart like some kind of subject of a dissection. The utter bite of her gaze caused them to suck in a sharp breath, posture straightening slightly.

"I've no idea why the Abyss would want someone so... pathetic," she scoffed. "Look at you, resigning to your fate like some kind of lost puppy with its tail between its legs."

"No, I... That's not..." they stammered, trailing off, hoarse voice quick to die out in the face of her frigid sternness. "I'm not..."

"Oh? Am I wrong?"

"No— Yes, I mean, yes, I was... My wrists, they broke when I fell, so... They broke and I don't have anything to fix them with, so I thought resting would be a better idea than running or fighting, and—"

"Alright, alright, stop. Get up. Follow me."

She began to walk away.

"H— huh?"

"You want to survive, don't you?"

They scurried after her before they could have any kind of second doubts.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

The woman introduced herself as Skirk, a seasoned swodswoman with extensive knowledge about the Abyss and how to survive in it. She had been kind enough (well... it was debatable whether her gesture was out of kindness or due to ulterior motives, but they had no other choice but to trust her) to treat their injuries, stiffly wrapping their wrists so that they could heal properly.

It took about six weeks for them to heal adequately. Within that time, they were surprised to find that they had begun to be able to see through the darkness, as though their eyes had finally adjusted.

They had hoped she would help them get out when they were fully healed, but...

No.

When she asked if they wanted to survive, she sure as hell intended to teach them how to do just that.

"Slow, uncoordinated, weak," she criticized venomously, swinging her blade down at them with great force. She would undoubtedly kill them if they gave her any chance to. If they made one mistake... "Just how do you think you'll get by in this realm when you can hardly defend yourself?"

"I— I didn't have to in Teyvat!" they sobbed, tears streaking down their cheeks from both the pain of the several open cuts and bruises blooming on their skin and the pain of being away from home for so long. How long had it been? They had no clue. Their wrists throbbed as they parried her blade with one of their own. "I was the apprentice of a doctor! I was safe there!"

"Well, you're not safe here. Get used to it," she sneered. "It's kill or be killed down here."

"I don't want to kill!"

"Then you'll be killed."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"Stop hesitating. Kill it."

The Abyssal creature at their feet seemed to whimper, trying its best to crawl away from them. It's body was already terribly mangled, limbs broken and twisted in ways they never should have been. Archons know what the eldritch creature even was—they sure as hell had no clue. All they knew was that they felt sorry for it. It looked so small and weak beneath them. 'Pathetic,' a malevolent whisper drifted through their mind, 'it looks pathetic.' With a shake of their head, perhaps in an attempt to rid their mind of such cruel thoughts, cries escaped their throat. Their chest rose and fell in sobbing, labored breaths. All they could hear in their ears was the distinct sound of blood rushing. Their chest ached. Their body ached.

They wanted to go home.

"I can't, Skirk, I can't..."

"You can," she hissed, "and you will."

"No," they cried harder, "look at it! I can't..."

"You can," she repeated, though this time with strange serenity, as she stepped behind them; with her hands, she forced their dagger down into the creature's chest, "and you will."

Blood splattered across their figure as they let out an utterly visceral wail.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Soft sobs wracked their figure. The more they tried to suppress their cries, the worse they got.

Many nights were spent in this manner. It wouldn't be the first night they spent crying themselves to sleep, and it was unlikely to be the last. Was it from the pain? The stress, perhaps? They truly didn't know. The only thing they knew was that they could only fall asleep if they exhausted themselves by crying first.

They just wanted to go home.

Then again...

Would they be accepted back? There was blood on their hands now. Fresh blood of a life that had value just like any other before they so cruelly took it away because in Skirk's words, it was 'kill or be killed.'

Would they still be viable for Changsheng's contract?

What if their master was dead by the time they returned?

What if they never returned?

Maybe that would be for the better.

But they wanted to go home regardless.

Then, the first light they saw in what seemed to be ages graced their empty irises. The light was treasured. Without thinking, they trapped it between their palms like one would to a firefly in the night so that it could not escape them.

A cool, smooth stone that most definitely wasn't there before now sat between their cupped hands. The rush of cold against their feverish skin prompted them to peer inside the little cage created by their rough hands.

Inside sat a Cryo vision, still-wet blood smearing over its chilling surface.

That night, they cried harder than they ever had before, clutching the Cryo Archon's blessing like it was some kind of lifeline.

Contrary to what they may have believed at the time, the night they got their vision marked the final night they would ever spend crying themselves to sleep in the Abyss.

That "morning," Skirk would note an evident change in their demeanor.

That "morning" would mark the point at which the Abyss officially reached the depths of their soul, sucking the last of the light from them and changing them fundamentally.

That "morning" would mark the point at which they were no longer Changsheng's next contractee.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Skirk taught them much in the first seven months of their time in the Abyss.

The longer they stayed, the warmer she became in her behavior towards them. She vaguely reminded them of their medicinal Master, though she was certainly much tougher than he was. She was not unkind, they had concluded. She was simply hardened. Archons know what she must have been through to be so cold.

Despite all that, she even did them the kindness of celebrating their birthday.

"When you do finally get out," she had said to them that day, "you will find that very little time has passed in Teyvat. Don't be surprised. You'll be a year older mentally, but your bodily age will be about the same as it was when you fell."

"How long has it been since I fell, then?"

Her reply sent chills up their spine, stomach twisting in sheer disbelief:

"Seven days."

Of course, "celebrating" just meant that they got to sleep the day off rather than be relentlessly beat up by the swordswoman. Nonetheless, they appreciated the break.

Ultimately, they had come to the conclusion that she was much different than what they'd initially assumed.

They'd taken it upon themselves to patrol around what Skirk considered to be her "territory." They'd chuckled a bit to themselves when she described it in such a way, but said nothing, only offering to patrol in her place for the day as a favor. Allegedly, that was how she encountered them all those months ago.

They were surprised to find that they, too, encountered a poor victim of the Abyss. It was a boy; if they had to guess, they would say he was somewhere around their age, maybe slightly younger.

'Is this what Skirk saw when she looked at me? Archons, no wonder she looked like she was going to tear my throat out,' they mused absently, unblinking void eyes staring down at the ginger boy on the floor in front of them. He looked like he wanted to say something but simply couldn't force the words out. 'He really does look like a lost puppy... is that what I looked like?'

His blue eyes were wide with shock and terror, glossed over with unshed tears. The Abyss was slowly beginning to dim the light in those eyes of his, but hadn't gotten very far yet—they still shone with an innocence they hadn't seen in quite a while, an innocence that didn't belong in a place such as the Abyss. His shaking hands clasped weakly at his foot; that's when they noticed that it was broken.

Some kind of forgotten instinct suddenly sparked again in their chest at the sight of his wounded ankle. Life... it was a thing they were supposed to protect. That was something they had been taught for as long as they could recall. It was only after falling into the Abyss that they began to stray from those teachings.

They needed to protect him. He was so fragile, the poor thing.

Briefly, they wondered what Baizhu, Jiangli, and their Master were doing right about now. Were they worried? They had no way of knowing. They did their best to brush those thoughts off before the homesickness could set in.

"You're hurt..." they observed, breaking the uneasy silence. "Broke it when you fell, huh? Can you walk, or will I have to carry you?"

"H— huh? Um..."

"Right. Got it. Hurry up and get on my back," they instructed, kneeling down with their back facing him so he could climb on with ease.

"How—" he gasped, withdrawing from them. "How can I trust you?"

"You'll die if you don't," they stated plainly, glaring back at him. Their gaze sent chills up his spine. It was so... empty. He was sure that not even the most seasoned warrior in his home nation looked so blank. It seemed as if all the light had been sucked from their soul, leaving a hardened shell of what they once were. Even Fatui officials had some kind of light in their face, but they simply did not. It unsettled him. "Get on. Now. You wouldn't last a day out here."

Though hesitant and utterly terrified, he yielded, reaching up to wrap his arms securely around their neck. They hooked their arms under his thighs and hoisted him up. Then, with a huff, they stood up.

The silence weighed a little too heavy for the boy's liking. Once the initial terror had worn off, he felt something much warmer bloom in his chest—awe. Absolute, unfettered awe.

Surely someone as tough as them could help him become more courageous.

"What's your name?"

"What, you trying to make conversation? Build rapport? I'm not planning on killing you. Relax," they scoffed. Then, after a brief, awkward silence, they went on, "...It's [Name]."

"I'm Ajax," he greeted with surprising grit for someone who just fell into the Abyss. "Hey, you're brave, right?"

"I... I guess?"

They dared to peek back at him. His eyes shone with light and determination foreign to anything or anyone in the Abyss. It did not belong here. He did not belong here.

"Teach me how to be brave like that."

Little did he know that light would disappear soon enough. They simply chose to look away, rather than mourn the loss that was inevitably going to occur.

"...You'll want to meet my teacher, then. She'll toughen you up."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"What is that?"

Ajax squeaked slightly, to which their lips twitched upwards into the ghost of a vaguely amused smile. Skirk must have unsettled him even more than they did.

"A boy."

Skirk's cold eyes narrowed at them. "No shit, [Name]."

"He fell and broke his ankle, so I brought him here," they elaborated, kneeling down again so he could easily get off their back without hurting himself even more. He gingerly slid off of them. Once he was off, they stood back up, walking over to her. "Anyway, I see why you wanted to rip my head off when you met me. You're totally right. He looked fucking pathetic."

"Oh, you get it now, hm?" She smirked, placing a firm hand on their shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day you called someone pathetic."

They shrugged. "This place changes you, but I suppose I don't have to tell you of all people that." Then, they beckoned her to lean down slightly. When she obliged them, they whispered something inaudible into her ear, occasionally glancing over at Ajax. They eventually withdrew, turning to face him.

"If it's courage you seek," Skirk said, scrutinizing the boy; he seemed to shrink under her gaze, "you'll indeed find it down here."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Ajax’s time in the Abyss was short. They had briefly wondered if they would ever one day run into him on the surface when they did eventually get out. The thought was oddly nice.

He changed very fast, they recalled. What was once a timid and easily frightened boy had become a hardened weapon of war that sought out bloodshed just for the thrill of it. It fascinated them, really. Why weren’t they like that? They were but a fraction of the beast that he had become. The sensation of being alive certainly gave them a rush, but they hardly reveled in it the way he did.

Then again, maybe that’s why they could at least hold their own against Skirk.

That was something he could never truly manage to achieve. Once in a blue moon, the Snezhnayan boy could hold his own against them, but never Skirk. She was on a different level entirely. Now that they really thought about it, however, it seemed very likely that it was because he just wasn’t level-headed in the way they were.

That brought another question to mind, however: why wasn’t he level-headed like them? Why did he relish in the bloodshed more than they did?

The only possible explanation was their origins. Being from Chenyu Vale, it was hardly any surprise that one particular ideology was stamped irremovably into their brain.

Even so…

It would be unrealistic to expect that they wouldn’t change during their stay in the Abyss. Their exposure to Abyssal energy was insanely long—the fact that they still cared at all about saving lives was shocking.

Fourteen months into their time in the Abyss, something in their mind snapped.

They could recall nothing about their episode. All they remembered was that Skirk had them training, as usual, against hordes of Abyssal monsters. It wasn’t something all too challenging for them; they were quite used to her highly demanding training sessions. Just when they started getting slightly overwhelmed, an unfamiliar rage boiled in their chest, and they blacked out.

When they came to, all they could see was death.

Blood soaked their clothes and fingertips. They were quick to come to the horrifying realization that it was not theirs. None of the blood was theirs. Not a single drop was theirs. The shallow scratch on their cheek wasn't even deep enough to bleed. They dared not turn around. Their gaze remained locked into the darkness ahead of them, hands trembling and eyes watering.

Before they could say or do anything, before Skirk could say or do anything, the Abyss spit them out. It simply... decided it was done. As if it had grown bored, or as if it were finally satisfied with the level of corruption in their mind and soul. They lost consciousness briefly, only to awaken exactly where they had gone missing over a year ago.

…

Well, over two weeks ago, they guessed. Time dilation was a difficult thing to get used to.

“Bright… Archons above…” they groaned, pressing their hands over their eyes in an attempt to gradually adjust to the sheer brightness of the surface. It made them a little sick, if they were to be quite honest; they had grown used to the pitch blackness of the other realm. “Gods, it’s bright…”

“…[Name]?”

They peeked through their fingers, squinting in the hopes of being able to make out the figure standing a few feet from them. When it finally hit them just who it was, their heart throbbed. The soft green hair they had grown so accustomed to braiding throughout their childhood, now wild and untamed as a terrible consequence of stress and panic, the tender eyes filled with perhaps a little too much wisdom for a child that age…

They were really back on the surface. It wasn’t just some sick trick of the mind, no.

They were home.

“Bai— Baizhu?”

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

He was quick to call for help, leading them back to their shared Master. Jiangli seemed to almost cry when she saw them again—tears of relief or tears of worry, they didn't know. She reminded them of a concerned mother.

However, something they dreaded terribly had come to pass.

Their Master discovered that they were in no need of his healing. They were uninjured. All that blood was not theirs. It was never theirs. They were completely unharmed.

"There isn't a single scratch on you."

They intentionally avoided his gaze, instead focusing on their hands rested in their lap. Absentmindedly, they noted how calloused and scarred their hands were compared to how soft they had once been. The hands of a healer had become something far more sinister. Changsheng was eerily quiet.

"...[Name]?"

"No"—they sniffled, finally meeting their Master’s golden irises filled with tender concern, concern they did not deserve after what they had done—"there isn't."

The conversation died right then and there.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Their departure from Chenyu Vale was sudden and unexpected. Many did not know why they left. All they left behind that could explain why they left was a small envelope for Baizhu, but they honestly didn't know if he would even open it. Leaving him without a single word... it made them want to cry every time they thought about it.

The goodbyes they said to Jiangli and their Master were tearful, but neither of the two could stop them from leaving after learning that they had suffered so much. After all, what place did a killer have in Chenyu Vale?

‘You’re not a killer,’ Jiangli had insisted. ‘You’re not. You belong here, with us.’

They disagreed with her sentiment. How could she still look at them with such kindness, even after knowing what awful things they had done? Maybe that’s why they left without speaking to Baizhu. Maybe they knew he would have pleaded with them to stay. Maybe they knew they would have stayed if it were he who asked.

Many of their years were spent wandering Teyvat, but every now and then...

They'd settle in Snezhnaya to catch up with an old acquaintance of theirs after tracking down his whereabouts.

"The Fatui, hm? Looks like you really aren't some scared little kid anymore. Shame. You were quite a cute scared little kid."

They hopped from nation to nation on a whim, picking up knowledge and still studying medicine on the side, though they wouldn't dare call themselves a doctor of any kind. It was Liyue that they often avoided, and if they really couldn't help it, they'd sneak along the border like some kind of internationally wanted criminal. The idea of running into Baizhu would always send their stomach into knots. What would they even say to him? He owed them nothing. He owed them no kind of forgiveness.

'And yet, despite all that...' they mused, staring vacantly at the sleeping Jiangli at their side, 'here I am. I won't let anything hurt you, even if it means putting myself at risk.'

Their fingers gently ran through her tangled locks.

The constant pulsating glow of their Cryo vision was indication enough that, through their own means, they were keeping those terrible god remains at bay. Between the gorgeous icy energy that generated from them, a magenta glow was woven in like some kind of skilled artist's tapestry. It was as beautiful as it was unsettling.

The Abyss would always be a part of them. They might as well put Skirk's teachings to use.

"Why do you do such insane things?" they wondered aloud, head tilting back to shift their empty gaze towards the roof of the cavern. "You know that if I destroy those remains, your husband will die, and yet... I followed you nonetheless, knowing I would be at an impasse until someone came to rescue us, knowing I would inevitably cross paths with the one I have fought so hard to avoid. Why are you like this? So irresponsible, but then again... I am no better. I wouldn't be here if I was."

"Jiangli!"

"Well... it doesn't matter now," they murmured quietly, gently shaking her shoulder. "Jiangli, wake up. Baizhu and your husband are here. Some others too… I don’t know them though."

"We found her!... but who's that beside her?"

Baizhu was oddly silent, watching how they treated her with such tenderness, helping her sit up when she groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Jialiang did not so much as flinch, however—he rushed up to them.

"[Name]! How is she?! Is she okay?!"

"Gods, Jialiang—" they hissed, pinching his arm in a soft attempt at scolding him. They vaguely resembled a parent chiding their child, despite the fact that he was older than them. "Don't run like that. You'll keel over dead if you keep that up. She's fine. She was just sleeping, I promise. I ensured her safety."

"Your ability to stave off the effects of the god remains is rather impressive, [Name]."

"...It's really not, Baizhu," they opposed quietly, rising to their feet. They dared not meet his eyes, looking anywhere but at him—they would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt if they were to see the evidence of his and Changsheng's contract, the contract that was always meant to be theirs. On top of that… they were certain he could see right through them, see the way they huffed out their breaths in a labored attempt at getting enough oxygen. "Don't try to make conversation. I'm not planning on running away this time. Jiangli probably did this on purpose... she forced my hand. It— look, it doesn’t matter. We'll talk about this, about everything, later."

He seemed content with that answer—for the time being, at least.

"Well, that's a first," Changsheng hissed from around the doctor's neck, "now isn't it?"

"You're getting sassy in your old age, Changsheng," they commented. "Haven't changed a single bit since the last time I saw you, hmm? Sassy old lady~"

"Hey!"

"Sorry, wait— Paimon's confused," the floating fairy interrupted. ‘Oh,’ they thought, ‘so that’s who Ajax was talking about.’ "Knowing Baizhu is one thing, but knowing Changsheng is waaaay different! Who are you?"

"My name is [Name]," they introduced with deceptive calmness that masked the pure, unadulterated panic they were experiencing on the inside. "You may have heard of me through a certain Fatui Harbinger. ‘Codename Childe, but I also go by Tartaglia,’ you know. The ginger with a bunch of cute siblings. Have you met them? They’re the cutest. Anyway, the harbinger has quite the collection of good things to say about you, traveler."

Aether tensed slightly, shooting Baizhu an odd look, almost as if to ask who he was associating with in his spare time.

"Relax. I'm not a part of the Fatui," they dismissed with a wave of their hand. "Those people are a bit insane, if you ask me, supporting a deity who hardly seems to care for them or the general population of her nation... Erm. Anyway. I only happen to know Ajax because we were both victims of the same circumstance a while back."

"What..." Aether trailed off, blinking. Something in the way he looked at them, looked at the blankness in their eyes, said that he already understood. "...What does that mean?"

"Ask him yourself. Do me a favor, though, and tell me what he says. I'm genuinely curious."

"Hey!" Paimon cut in with an annoyed huff, stomping her foot like an aggravated toddler. The thought made them smile slightly. "Stop ignoring Paimon! You still didn't answer her question!"

"[Name] was another one of my Master's disciples, like Jiangli," Baizhu explained on their behalf, briefly glancing in their direction. "Although... I haven't seen them in several years. Like Jiangli, they too ran away."

"Oh, Gods, Baizhu," they groaned, turning to face him properly for the first time in years. Their breath almost dared to hitch at the golden irises that stared back at them. "Don't be dramatic. Are you telling people I ran away? I didn't run away. I told our Master why I was leaving and when I planned on doing so. It's Jiangli who really didn't tell anyone why she left. I wasn't that secretive about why I left, you know."

"Nuance."

They then softened up slightly, running their hand through their hair. A deep sigh left through their nose. "...You really haven't changed at all."

He seemed to smile a bit at their exasperation. It was only fair, they supposed. They had left him in the dark for years. He deserved to find some amusement in the uncomfortable situation they were both forced into.

"Well... whatever. We have bigger issues than my past friendships right now," they said, crossing their arms over their chest. "What are we doing about these remains? I have protected Jiangli's body and mind, but only to an extent. She is infected and it will continue to worsen if we do nothing. However, if we destroy these remains..."

"Indeed..." Baizhu murmured, turning to the man in question. "If we destroy these remains, your life will come to an end."

"If you knew what she was doing," Aether cut in, "why didn't you stop her?"

"You cannot stop a woman like that once she has her heart set on something. All I could do was watch from the background until she put herself in too much danger, to the point where I'd have to defend her," they sighed, "such as what she did here."

Jialiang looked between them and Baizhu. "...I had wondered when this day might come."

Jiangli was silent.

"We've been working our butts off to save Jialiang's life!" Paimon shouted. "We can't just give up on him now! Baizhu, you're a great doctor. Surely you've gotta know of some other way we can save him, right? Or— [Name]! If you studied with Baizhu, you should know a few things too, right?"

"Sure. I still remember some things from that time," they replied, tilting their head back a bit so they could gaze at Jiangli's husband. "Jialiang could continue taking the poison. Jiangli is... in decent condition overall, so it wouldn't be the end of the world to delay the destruction of the remains, but she will fall more ill as time goes on. Either way, someone will die if we don't do something."

"[Name], you've been watching Jiangli," Jialiang stated, standing up to meet their eyes. "How long does she have?"

"If she completely stopped coming here..." they mused thoughtfully, "a few weeks at most would be my guess. You'd probably get a more precise answer from Baizhu, though."

"I would say that is accurate," Baizhu agreed, nodding. "I could... extend that time, however, if I were to treat her using a secret art."

"You..." They wanted to scold him, chide him for even suggesting such a thing, but in the end, they did not. It would make them a hypocrite. They simply bit their tongue. Jiangli watched closely with a gentle gaze comparable to that of an aunt or a mother as the various emotions flickered across their expression.

"...But what would be the point of that?" Jialiang lamented. "Dr. Baizhu, I am all too aware of the dangers of god remains. You are not the first to mention it to me. [Name] often warned me, but... I did not listen. If I continue to sustain my own life using this wretched substance, then not only would Jiangli have to keep risking her life to make my medicine for me, but I would have to live with the looming threat of these remains breaking out and wreaking havoc not just upon me, but my entire family. I know for a fact that I should have died over a decade ago. The fact that I've been around to see Ayu grow up is already a great blessing from Rex Lapis. If my choice can keep Jiangli alive, then... even if I die..."

"Jialiang..." Paimon trailed off.

The man chuckled sadly. "After cheating death for so long, it seems I've grown somewhat addicted to life."

"Life is a terrible drug for those of us who often come face-to-face with death," they admitted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take a minute to talk with Jiangli. We'll wait."

"Thank you..." he said, kneeling down at his tired wife's side, "I'm sorry that I won't be able to repay your kindness in this life."

"Jialiang...” Paimon cried, wiping her face with her little balled up hands. “Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], is there really nothing else any of you can do?"

"Cheating death is beyond my ability," they answered apologetically. "I know much of arts that are... beyond this world, but they are not used for preserving nor extending life. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. My apologies."

"I am sure that over the years, Jiangli will have tried all the conventional methods known to humankind. As for the less conventional methods, I have little expertise besides Changsheng's secret art..."

Aether's gaze flickered between them and Baizhu as he said that, before settling back on the Liyuean doctor. "...They're aware of it?"

"Try to avoid treating me like an outsider," they half-scolded. "Believe it or not, I was meant to be bound to Changsheng. Fate had different plans, however, so yes. I am very much aware. Even through the medium, that being Changsheng, none of Baizhu's predecessors could manage to cheat death."

"Mortals are fated to grow old and pass on when their natural lifespan runs out," the snake mused. "If it were so easy to combat the natural processes of aging and death, Jiangli would not have had to resort to unnatural methods."

Paimon sniffled. "What a crazy situation... Jiangli risked it all to save Jialiang's life, and now, Jialiang has to sacrifice himself to save Jiangli. What's the point of it all..?"

"Love, I have heard, tends to make people do insane things," they stated. "It's quite tragic, really."

The traveler nodded. "All we can do now is honor Jialiang's decision and bear witness."

"...I've seen many final farewells in my time," Baizhu commented softly, quietly, "but I can never get used to it."

"In the human realm, all things must come to an end. Is it not a fitting end to die for a worthy cause? At least... that's what generations of Masters before you always believed."

They wondered if Changsheng was somehow trying to be reassuring.

"The path they chose was indeed a heroic one," Baizhu agreed, "but when I think of those who would willingly sacrifice themselves for others... I cannot help but think that theirs are the lives least deserving of death."

The quiet whispers shared between the couple gradually died down. It was then that Jialiang stood up.

"I've said my goodbyes. My time has come. Do what you must."

"As you wish."

"We have not been in contact for years," they spoke up, stepping forward and raising their hand, "but I know you well enough to know that a man dying indirectly by your own hand will weigh on your mind. I will take care of this. Stand down, Baizhu."

The doctor seemed momentarily stunned, but he nodded nonetheless, backing off. "...Very well, [Name]."

With a chilling wind and a flick of their wrist, the god remains dissipated with a hiss.

It wasn't very long until Jialiang collapsed.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"Jialiang..! Jialiang!"

The man shot up with a gasp, instinctively clutching at his chest.

"Dad! Are you awake?!"

"Jiangli..? Ayu? Didn't I..." Jialiang trailed off, gaze drifting to the seals stuck on his skin. "Huh? What are these?"

Changsheng’s voice drew his attention. "How does it feel to come back to life?"

"Do you feel strange or different in any way?" Baizhu questioned, walking to his bediside. "If so, could you describe it to me in detail?"

"Dr. Baizhu! I thought I was going to..."

"Die? You did, actually," they stated, gently holding his arm, carefully inspecting the sigils as to not disrupt the delicate imitation of immortality that the doctor had created. "To think this is what Baizhu's been doing in my absence... absolutely fascinating. Sorry, Jialiang, do you mind? I'll back off if it's uncomfortable. Don’t be afraid to tell me.”

Jiangli giggled at her husband's look of sheer confusion.

"Uh... no, you're— you're okay..? Go ahead."

Baizhu's lips quirked up at the sight of their enthusiasm. He said nothing of it, though. "As things stand now, you're more akin to a zombie than a human."

"...I'm a zombie?!"

"That's right. Before we set off, I asked Qiqi to prepare and Elixir of Immortality. With its help, you have been suspended in the space between life and death. Of course, this is but a crude imitation of an adeptus art. I don't expect it to extend your life indefinitely. Whether it will keep you alive for a few days, a few months, or a few years...” Baizhu mused, “I am as interested as you to find out, but however long you have left, I believe it should be more than sufficient time for you to say your final goodbyes before departing the world in peace. ...I hope Director Hu finds this arrangement to be a satisfactory one?"

"An Elixir of Immortality? How'd you cook that up? Ugh," the girl in question groaned, "leave it to you to work on something like that behind my back..."

"It's a work in progress that hardly lives up to its name, and it would've had no effect if not for Jialiang's iron will." Baizhu shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. "In the end, I am merely a doctor. I understand very little about the great principles governing life and death, and the perpetual cycle of yin and yang. All I know is that if I am presented with a life that deserves to be saved, I will do everything within my power to save it. Even this would have counted for nothing if not for Director Hu's assistance... after all, did you not tell Jialiang to show us the way before we set off for Qingce Village?"

"Oops! Aaaand, I'm busted..."

"Without Director Hu nudging things in the right direction, we may not have found Jiangli and [Name] in time. They could only hold those remains off for so long."

"It wouldn't have meant anything if not for your friend over there," she pointed out. "They nudged me first."

"I did," they conceded, finally backing away from Jialiang after finishing their investigation of his sigils. "What of it? I was worried about Jialiang and Jiangli. I told Director Hu who I was and where I was headed after eavesdropping, and then she nudged Jialiang in that direction. It's not that serious."

"Eavesdropping is kind of serious!" Paimon exclaimed, shooting them an odd look.

"Fair point, but it's not like I was eavesdropping on someone I've never met. What could Baizhu have said to you that I wouldn't have already known? Absolutely nothing.”

"I knew there were people listening in on our conversation back then," Aether murmured. "To think it was you two..."

"No wonder he didn't mention the Elixir back then," Director Hu muttered to herself. "I thought he was being frank and transparent with me for once, but apparently not."

Jialiang cleared his throat, laughing a bit. "Director Hu told me to keep her suggestion a secret, and [Name] had told Jiangli and I a while ago to keep it a secret that they were in Liyue, but it seems nothing escapes Dr. Baizhu's attention..."

"Never underestimate a serpent's sense of smell!" Changsheng hissed, almost seeming to be proud.

"All I wanted was to help Jialiang find his missing wife as soon as possible, so that he could be on his way to the afterlife without any unfulfilled wishes making the journey more difficult than it needs to be..." Hu Tao sighed. "Leave it to Bubu Pharmacy to snatch the perfect opportunity right outta my hands at the last hurdle! Never mind, I'll just have to put it down in the books as a deferred consideration... one Qiqi was enough of a conundrum; the last thing I need's another one. If I'd known this was coming, I would have whisked him off to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the moment I found him."

"Y— you stay away from my dad! When I grow up, I'm gonna become a better doctor than Mom and Baizhu, and cure Dad for good!" Ayu declared, making them chuckle into their hand. They ruffled his brown hair fondly. "A— and [Name]! Better than [Name] too!"

"I don't really practice medicine anymore, honey. I definitely don't count as a doctor. You'd outdo me within a week."

Jiangli grinned at them, teasing, "I don't know, [Name]. For someone who 'doesn't practice medicine anymore,' you still act as if you do. You seem very fascinated with Baizhu's imitation of immortality on a very deep level.”

"Old habits die hard," they simply answered. "What can I say?”

"Oh? Is that so?" Hu Tao chimed, turning to Ayu. "Well, you wouldn't be the first person who's tried to put Wangsheng Funeral Parlor out of business. If you're serious about it, you'll have your work cut out for you."

Just like that, she turned on her heel and left.

"Phew... is she finally gone?" Qiqi peeked out from her hiding spot. Upon seeing them, and noting that Hu Tao was gone, she ran over to them, presenting them with a silk flower. "I meant to give it to you earlier... because it's pretty, like you... but I forgot..."

Their face turned serious as they faced the Liyuean doctor. "Baizhu."

"Hm?"

"I'm keeping her. She's mine now. This is my child now."

Both Baizhu and Jiangli chuckled at how purely enamored they were with her, kneeling down so Qiqi could tuck the flower behind their ear. They cooed over her sweetness, patting her head lovingly. Ayu almost seemed a little jealous of the attention they showered her in.

"All's well that ends well!" Paimon chimed, turning to Aether. "If you ask Paimon, we should probably go do something to celebrate this heard-earned family reunion..."

"Paimon's idea of a celebration can only mean one thing..."

"Hehe! At times like this, a grand celebratory feast is in order!"

Jialiang chuckled, "It feels like it was a whole lifetime ago when I last talked with Jiangli and Ayu around the dinner table."

"Rightfully so," they said, "you've been through a lot."

Aether nodded. "This was a hard-earned meal."

"Yaaay~! Paimon can't wait! Alright, first thing's first—off to the market for some fresh ingredients! Let's go~!"

"Wait up!" Ayu shouted, running after them. "I'll come too!"

"Baizhu, thank you so, so much for everything you've done for us..." Jiangli thanked, then turning to place a hand on their shoulder as many had done before her. "And [Name], I would not be as well as I am now if not for you. You've been standoffish for the past decade, but I know you still care. For all of us."

"Ah... I wasn't trying to come off as cold. Things just got tough for me after that incident. I never want you guys to feel like I don't care, you know..."

"Don't mention it, Jiangli," Baizhu reassured. "I was just doing my duty."

"Just your duty, huh..." she mused wistfully. "Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], would you mind if we took this conversation outside?"

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"Time flies. It's been so long since we've been together like this... Changsheng, you're the same as ever," Jiangli laughed. "You haven't changed one bit!"

"That's literally what I said to her, too," they exclaimed. "See, I knew I was right! Some things just don't change, hm?"

"...You two, on the other hand, have changed a lot," Changsheng replied, a thoughtful lilt to her tone. She certainly knew more than what she was letting on.

"You're right," Jiangli admitted. "My younger self would have never imagined that things would one day turn out this way."

"I doubt that any of us imagined our lives would turn out this way," they added. "I mean, really... our time in Chenyu Vale seems so far gone now, doesn’t it?”

“It really does,” the woman agreed.

The evening light bathed their face in yellow-orange light; it wasn't quite late enough yet for the light to take on a more golden hue, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Even after all the horrors they had witnessed, they still had the capacity to recognize beauty.

"Liyue's so pretty at this time, isn't it?" they wondered aloud.

"You always did think so," Baizhu replied. "That much hasn't changed."

An oddly comfortable silence settled for but a few short moments as the small group descended the last of the stairs that led to Bubu Pharmacy. Jiangli was the first to break it:

“I’ve taken a look at your Elixir of Immortality, Baizhu, as has [Name]. It isn’t altogether dissimilar from the poison I concocted in terms of the way it functions.”

“I have to say, Jiangli, it was a stroke of genius to use poison to maintain life. I hope you’re not too upset at me for… copying your methods?”

“No, not at all. With your intellect, even if you’d never seen my poison, I believe you would have eventually arrived at the same approach, but I’m still impressed by how quickly you gained such a thorough understanding of it. Jialiang’s still only been in your care for a few days. Not just that—you even managed to improve upon the original formula. That cannot be explained by intellect alone…”

“Ten mora says he tried it out on himself.”

“Ha!” Changsheng laughed. “Told you the truth would come out sooner or later.”

“Knew it,” they hummed. “Life force has never been the only thing Changsheng’s contract allows her contractees to transfer. I know simply because I used to catch our master doing things like that all the time.”

“Baizhu…” Jiangli trailed off.

“…Nothing gets past you two. Yes, Changsheng’s secret art also allows for the transfer of toxins and diseases. When I treated Jialiang for the second time, I transferred some of the poison from his body onto my own. Not only did this allow me to alleviate the burden on him, but it also gave me an opportunity to study its properties. There is no need to worry about any long-term consequences to my health, however. Now that the source has been destroyed, any remaining poison in me will have already dissipated.”

“But you took such a huge risk,” Jiangli opposed. “If we hadn’t destroyed the gods’ remains back there, then even you might have…” She then sighed. “What am I saying? I’m in no position to criticize you for this, and if [Name] knew… it’s no wonder why they were adamant on destroying the remains themselves.”

They nodded. “I had to be sure they would be gone. Believe me, whatever was there before… it is not there now and will never be there again.”

“Leave it to you to see through us all, even from such a distance,” she said with a fond, wistful smile. She turned back to Baizhu. “The reason I left our Master and went into hiding all those years ago was that he was getting old, and I didn’t want him using up any more of his own life force to treat my husband, but in the end… how were my methods any different than his? I risked one life to save another, and then you tried the poison on yourself, too… It looks like both of us have ended up going the same way as out master before us. As for [Name]… heh, they’re hardly any better.”

Baizhu seemed intrigued by her statement. “How so?”

“[Name], why don’t you tell Baizhu how you absorbed the majority of that gods’ remains to keep them from getting to me?”

“It’s different,” they insisted, gaze shifting towards the golden sky. "I mean, I did do that, yes—that’s not what I’m denying. You two do it because if there is a life in front of you deserving of being saved, you save it, and… ten years ago, I would have done it solely for the same reasons. Now, though… It’s different. That incident changed me, Jiangli. I do it because I get a rush from surviving things like that.”

“Nonetheless, your intentions towards others are still good,” Jiangli said, gently squeezing their upper arm. “Would you have done it if you didn’t care? If you weren’t scared for my life? You said it yourself. You were worried about my husband and I. You put yourself in a situation you knew would inevitably lead to you and Baizhu meeting again. You put yourself at risk, and that is what really makes me wonder: are all disciples of Chenyu Vale destined to turn out this way? To live a short life, having given away our own for the sake of others? To fight relentlessly against the natural course of life and death, whatever the cost? …Maybe our fate is sealed the moment we decide to study medicine.”

“We are doctors, Jiangli. We ought never say that anyone’s fate is sealed.”

“Baizhu, I can tell that over the years, you’ve used the contract with Changsheng to transfer many diseases and toxins onto yourself. There are so many, that some of them I don’t even recognize… can you still stop it before it’s too late?”

“Don’t fool yourself. We all know the answer to that question, Jiangli,” they interrupted, “and we all know it’s a very honest no. All disciples of Chneyu Vale believe in the same core principle. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“Heey~!” Paimon shouted, waving the group over. “Food’s ready!”

“Mom!” Ayu exclaimed excitedly, running up to the woman. “Come and join us! Aether taught me a load of new recipes and said even Dad’ll be able to taste them! Come and try them out!”

“Yes, darling, mom’ll be there in just a minute… Hey, slow down!” she exclaimed, chasing after her child. She stopped briefly, turning back to face them and Baizhu. “Baizhu, I know I won’t be able to convince you, but… please don’t forget that, if one day, you’re not around anymore… Qiqi, Gui, and all the friends that have grown fond of you, they will all miss you dearly.”

“There’s no need to worry, Jiangli. I know what I’m doing.”

“…I can only hope so,” she sighed, “and [Name]? I believe you know where this conversation needs to go. I was honest about why I left. It’s your turn now.”

She walked off after her son.

A silence settled in her absence. This time, however, it was tense.

Then, Baizhu seemed to search his pockets for something. His face brightened slightly when he found it: a small envelope yellowed with age. He handed it over to them.

"You... never opened it?" they wondered softly, holding the letter they'd written all those years ago with such delicacy that they weren't even aware they were capable of anymore.

"I wanted to hear the explanation from you."

"This was from me," they tried to counter.

"[Name]."

"Yeah, yeah... I get it. You wanted to hear it from me directly. I know," they sighed, leaning back against the railing, fidgeting with the paper envelope help in their hands. "It really isn't a pretty story, but if anyone deserves to know... I suppose it's you. I’m surprised Changsheng didn’t tell you already, given how inclined she is to gossiping—”

“Hey!”

“—Just... please. Do me a favor and try not to look at me too differently after you hear it."

Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."

They smiled bitterly. "We'll see about that."

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

For the first time in a very long time, they spoke to Baizhu.

Not superficially, not as distant professionals, but as friends. It was a moment of honest vulnerability that truly frightened them. They hadn't been that vulnerable since before their fall.

The silence weighed heavily on their chest as they gazed anywhere but at their former friend. Somehow, the anticipation for his response was far more suffocating than any other in the past—even the anticipation for their Master's response was never this heavy.

Then, the Liyuean doctor reached out, gingerly tugging them towards his figure. His arms settled comfortably around their waist.

The weak beating of his heart and the wheezing breaths he took prompted them to sob. The sound they let out was overwhelmingly heartbreaking; it was somehow even worse than the cry they had let out upon taking that first life all those years ago in the Abyss. All the pain they suppressed for all the years they hid from their home, their friends... it all came flooding out at once.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"You went through all of that," Baizhu whispered, his voice meant only for them (and Changsheng by default…) to hear as a hand ran soothingly through their hair, "and you truly believed we would hold that against you?"

"Yes!" they wept. Archons... they hadn't felt this pathetic since their initial descent into the Abyss. "Gods, Baizhu, of course I thought you all would hold it against me! I was supposed to be Changsheng's next contractee! It was never supposed to be you! I didn't want it to be you!"

"I know."

"It's not fair! You— you're here giving away your life force, and you're going to die young, and it's going to be my fault! I should have done something differently! Maybe then we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"It's not your fault."

"It is!"

"It's not."

"You're suffering because of me!"

"[Name]."

"I only ever do bad things to you," they sobbed. "Why do you still want to forgive me? Why are you wasting your time comforting me? You should just move on. You're better off without me."

"Stay in Liyue."

"H— huh?" they sniffled. "What? No, I... No!”

“Stay, [Name]. Please.”

“No! Why do you even want me to stay here?! You should hate me! You should—”

“You’re reckless with your own life. Do you really think I don’t see it? You claim to get a rush from being alive, but… I do not believe that is the only thing you seek out by putting yourself at risk. Mentally well people don’t behave this way. Let me help you. Please."

‘No shit,’ they wanted to say, ‘I haven’t been well since that day.’

“Are you saying you don’t trust me to be on my own?”

“I am.”

Their throat closed. They squeezed their eyes shut.

He was right, much as they hated it.

“…Fucking hypocrite.”

"That may be so.” He smiled ruefully. “If that isn’t good enough of a reason, then… I’m asking you to stay because I want you to stay, [Name]. Stay with me for a little while." His eyes were filled with a gentleness that they wholeheartedly believed should not have been directed at them. "We still get along, don't we? Though you may have changed, I genuinely find it hard to believe anything about us has changed, so stay. Let's get to know each other again, hm?"

They blinked. Once, twice. Tears pricked at their eyelashes.

"...Okay."

They still failed to part from Baizhu, but he didn't seem to mind, only resuming his motions of brushing his fingers through their hair.

"Qiqi quite likes your company, too."

"Yes..." they murmured. "Um, a lot of kids seem to, you know... Ayu, my other friend's siblings... I don't really get it, but they, um, they all seem to like me."

For what was the first time in decades, they felt truly at peace. They'd often engage in meaningless conversation under the sunset's light with Baizhu in their youth, gathering herbs and the like for their shared Master. To do something so similar once again...

It soothed the beast their soul had become.

The sunset's light, however, did not dance in their eyes as it once had.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! taglist: @zeldadou, @ophelium-flowers, @aikitsuki.

#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #genshin platonic #genshin x reader #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic baizhu x reader #baizhu x reader

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mintywolf · 10 days ago

Text

A Long Road Home - Page 94 Author's Notes

Page 94

Back when Laudna’s stained-glass window first appeared @overnighttosunflowers asked what my thoughts were on why Laudna would choose to create an image of Whitestone.

My answer was that originally, it was just going to be an abstract pattern of colored glass shards she had collected, but I thought she'd make it look like something. So I considered her usual motifs (a bird skull or a dead tree or a haunted castle on a hill) but thought if she's making a home for herself and, importantly, Imogen, she'd want something that has a connotation of peace and security, so I went with the fairy-tale image of Whitestone the way it used to be when it was still home to her.

There’s an extra poignancy to that decision now that it’s been shattered, and with it the hope that this could be a place of home and safety for them.

An earlier draft of this did not involve Imogen detonating in public. The catalyst for their departure was still an ill-timed Form of Dread, but Laudna assumed it voluntarily:

***

Page 97

Panel 1: Back in the present. Imogen and Laudna settle into the common room of a tavern in town for dinner. A few patrons are present, some playing dominoes. But the room is filling up faster than expected and the unaccustomed crush of minds is wearing on Imogen. Scraps of other people's thoughts are starting to crowd around her.

Their Thoughts: Should I get the chicken 'n' dumplings -- catch a skyship in Jrusar -- purple hair! there's something you don't see every day -- lamb tagine maybe they don't make it here like in Ank'harel though -- necromancy?? -- check out the rack on that —

Laudna: Are you all right, darling? Is it getting too crowded in here?

Imogen: I'm fine. Just a minute, did you hear . . .?

Panel 2: Focusing, she tries to listen more closely and isolate the particular thread of thought about necromancy.

Someone's Thoughts: don't like the look of those strangers especially that ghoulish-looking one is that outlandish purple girl a necromancer the youth these days a necromancer and her thrall someone ought to report them to the guard

Imogen: Oh, no. . .

Panel 3: And then her mental defenses crumble and the entire room's thoughts come rushing in, resulting in a nosebleed and an instantaneous blinding headache. She slumps against Laudna, holding her head.

Cacophony of Thoughts: I wonder if the Stratos Throne can -- 'n' dumplings better stick with the classics -- three silver two copper for the -- that top button on her blouse -- never been to Wildemount -- Imogen! Imogen, darling -- tryin' to cheat me -- is she all right -- hey watch it -- fa-LA-fel? Fa-la-FEL? -- illegal here -- okay okay just gotta get rid of this double-six -- it's all right, I've got you, just breathe -- someone ought to report -- should I leave a tip do they do that here -- Stratos Throne -- hot stuff comin' through -- what's wrong with that girl --

Imogen: I'm fine, I'm fine . . .

Panel 4: Seeking refuge in an alley, she braces herself against the wall and tries to compose herself, breathing heavily. But the early evening streets are still crowded with people and there is no respite from the torrent of voices, many thinking uncharitable things about her. Laudna is absent.

Continuing Cacophony: -- drunkards in the street at this hour what is this town coming to -- dinner here or at the Gloating Goat -- what's her problem -- don't stare don't make eye contact -- really good pecan pie here -- is she okay should I help her where are her parents -- ugh students on holiday this isn't some party town --

The noise shifts over to screams of terror.

Panel 5: Then a blessed silence. Laudna's spindly, elongated fingers, dripping ichory goo into her hair, gently pet her head and the hellish echoes of her voice whisper over her.

Imogen: Laudna?

Laudna: (echoing hellishly) It's all right, my love. I'm here.

Panel 6: Imogen turns her head to see the full Form of Dread crouched over her protectively. Laudna scratches her back soothingly with her claws.

Imogen: What . . . what did you do?

Laudna: Just got rid of the gawkers, dear. Are you feeling better?

Imogen: A little . . . can we go home?

Laudna: Of course.

Page 98

Panel 1: Back home, in their sleeping loft. Imogen is lying on the bed in her pajamas while Laudna sits next to her, tending to her headache. There's a folded towel over her eyes and Laudna is bathing the inside of her wrists with cold water.

Imogen: Ugh. How'm I ever gonna manage in Jrusar if I can't even cope with the number of people in a small town?

Laudna: We'll worry about that when we get there. Let's just take things one step at a time.

Panel 2: Lifting the towel away from one eye she looks up at Laudna.

Imogen: Can I . . . see that thing you did again?

Panel 3: Laudna obliges with a crackling of bone and joints, until there's a monster in the bed next to her.

Panel 4: She weaves her too-long fingers together self-consciously.

Laudna: You don't find it disturbing?

Imogen: It's you?

Panel 5: Taking her monstrous hand, Imogen runs her fingers curiously over her palm.

Laudna: It's me.

Panel 6: She sits up and peeks under the veil.

Imogen: Then, no.

Panel 7: Then leans up and kisses whatever she finds under there (we do not see it) on the cheek.

Page 99

Panel 1: Later that night. Imogen is asleep, curled comfortably in the curve of Laudna's body beneath one of her lanky arms. Awakened by a noise, Laudna levers herself up on her other arm.

Panel 2: Ruefully, Laudna shakes her awake.

Laudna: Imogen. Wake up, darling.

Imogen: Wh . . .?

Laudna: I'm sorry. It's time to go.

Panel 3: Downstairs Laudna begins hurriedly packing the most essential of their things. Imogen notices that one of the glass window panes that Laudna so carefully repaired is broken again, and there's a brick on the floor amid a scattering of colored glass.

Panel 4: Closer on the brick. There's a scrap of paper wrapped around it with the word “MONSTER” scrawled on it in charcoal.

Panel 5: Hand in hand, they run out into the night. It's beginning to snow. Behind their home, the gathering shadows of many people and the distant flicker of torches are visible.

***

I kind of miss the scene of Laudna’s drippy monster hand petting Imogen on the head but overall I am content with the revision. The scene of Imogen smooching the Form of Dread got moved to the beginning of the chapter, as you probably remember, and the version with the brick coming through the window in the middle of the night (which I did like a little better but it did not make sense for them to come home and go to bed after committing public assault in this version haha) ended up in Come In From The Cold.

And at some point the word on the brick was changed to “WITCH,” an accusation which could justifiably be thrown at either of them. (Three if you count Delilah.)

#a long road home #author notes

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year ago

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Through Love And By Love (Pt. 14)

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, discussions of trauma and mental illness; reader discretion advised.

18+ ONLY this chapter contains sexual content.

Part 13

"What are you doing?" Albus wrestles the time turner from Scorpius, as the train chugs beneath them.

"It's obvious isn't it? We've got to go back." The Malfoy boy explains.

"No, absolutely not, Scorpius! Bad idea. Time turners are illegal, you don't meddle with time. Delphi must have stolen this." Rose scolds him, in a tone so like her mother.

"Because she cares about my mum, and she wants my father’s name cleared." Scorpius points out.

"They’re already working on clearing it." Rose insists. "My mum told me."

"Hermione is lying!" Scorpius cuts her off. "Everyone is lying! This won't get better and if I don't do something soon, it's going to get worse... If I don't do something soon, I’m going to lose my dad."

"I'm in." Albus says, softly.

"Albus, no!" Rose argues, it's too risky.

"He’s worth saving." Albus pleads his case.

"That wasn't in question, only the method by which you plan to save him." Rose busies herself, tugging at a loose string on her jumper.

“All we need to do is go back to the night he cast the imperius curse and make sure he doesn't." Scorpius shrugs, can't be that hard.

"And how exactly are you going to stop him?" She arches a fiery brow.

"I haven't figured that part out just yet."

"I should remind you, Scorp, your dad was much more..." Albus searches for the words, "intense back then."

————————————————————————

“Finally got Corina down,” Rosanna huffs, flopping onto the couch, beside her husband. The little girl didn’t want to nap, but she was overtired and cranky as ever.

Draco looks up from Rosanna’s notes, everything she’s prepared to submit for his trail. "The sacrifices made by Draco Malfoy, in a desperate attempt to keep Voldemort from rising to power, do not make him a criminal. They make him a hero. Or at the very least, a prisoner of war."

Rosanna moves to take the papers from him.

“You paint a pretty picture of me, love.” Draco admits, handing over the parchment.

“That’s how I see you.”

“You don’t need to lie.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Tell me the truth of it and I will love you still.”

“Draco, this is the truth!”

“We both know how this ends. I need you to promise me that you’ll try to move forward, once I’m gone. I need you to promise that you won’t spend the rest of your life pining over me. Promise me, Rosanna.” Draco pleads, holding her gaze.

“I can’t promise that, you’re the only person that I-” she breaks off to collect her thoughts. “Sometimes it’s like the whole world is spinning and no one can feel it but me. Everything is rushing around me and I’m always running, struggling to keep up. But you make me feel like I can stand in one place without getting dizzy. You hold me still.”

“Rosanna,” he shakes his head.

“I hate the things that happened to you because of me. Everything you have to answer for is because of me. Because I asked you to, because I thought I was doing the right thing. You have every right to be angry about it. You have every right to hate me.” It’s only fair. “I hate myself.”

Draco draws in a ragged breath. “Don’t say that.” He grinds out, between gritted teeth, as if it were the worst, most heinous, thing he’s ever heard.

“You asked me to tell the truth.” Rosanna fires back, “that is the truth, I hate myself.”

“Please, don’t say that.” His voice is softer now, taking her face in his hands. “I wanted to make you happy, I tried. I-”

Rosanna rests her hands over his. “You gave me an incredible life, with so much happiness and I am so grateful.”

“Then how can you say that?”

“I ruined your life. I put a target on your back, I set you up to be hunted down and prosecuted. I tried to fix it, to set the record straight. I’ve been screaming, at the top of my lungs, for twenty years and no one can hear me.”

“I hear you,” Draco assures her. “I do.”

“If you get sentenced to Azkaban because of something I asked you to do, I won’t be able to live with that.” Rosanna confesses.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Draco sighs.

“If I don’t have you-”

“You have me. You will always have me. You are a part of me. To my bones, I am yours. No time, nor space between us will change that.” Where you go, I go.

Rosanna chokes back a sob, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

“I hear you,” he says, against her mouth; damp with her tears and his own.

Her hands bury themselves in his hair. “I need you.”

“I am yours and you are mine.” Draco breathes, it was written in the stars before they were born.

Rosanna begins tugging at his clothes, trying to get closer to him. It’s not until they are bare, with his face buried dutifully between her thighs, that she settles. His tongue on her clit is nothing more than a temporary gentling, making her tremble and keen beneath him.

Draco drinks her in, possessive and greedy. Driving her to release, driving her to madness; legs clamped tightly to his ears. And when she cums, draped over the front of their sitting room couch, he can wait no longer. Repositioning her to lie across the cushions. Making her comfortable, keeping her safe.

“Please,” she whimpers. Because it’s not good enough, she needs him inside, so she won’t be alone. For once in her life she doesn’t care about what is right, she doesn’t want to be courageous or brave…or even free. She wants to be selfish and to get what she wants. “I want to be yours.” To be cherished, to be heard, to be loved.

To be loved is to be changed.

“You’re mine.” He is home. He is loved.

The thought comes again, unbidden. Clawing its way out from deep in her belly. “I hate myself.”

“I love you.” I hate myself.

“I love you.”

————————————————————————

"I can’t believe-" Scorpius breaks off, taking it all in. The train car has vanished, they are standing just outside of Hogwarts; forbidden forest howling behind them. It's after nightfall and the castle lights appear exceptionally beautiful, more so than any of them remember. "Did that really just work?"

"I'd say yes," Rose takes a step forward, on shaky legs. "But we need to figure out exactly where we are."

"You mean, when we are." Albus quips, only to be glared at by his cousin.

"By the looks of the Beauxbatons carriage, I'd say we're somewhere around the time of the triwizard tournament." Rose reasons.

"Alright then, let’s get to it." Scorpius nods.

"Wait," Rose stops him, listening closely for a moment. "We'll need some dress robes."

"For what?" Albus asks.

"I think we're going to the Yule Ball."

"Great," Al remarks, shrugging a shoulder. "We're not supposed to be seen, that makes perfect sense."

"We can be seen, so long as we're not recognized." Rose says, tugging the wand from her denims. "Who's going first?"

“Age before beauty,” Albus suggests, pointing his wand at her.

“Honestly?” Rose rolls her eyes, she’s been charmed into a fitted, powder blue, gown.

“Now you look just like a Beauxbaton’s girl.”

Rose configures his own outfit into the deep red Durmstrang robes, in retaliation.

“Oi!”

“As for you.” Rose flicks her wand again, this time at Scorpius. A pristine black dress suit.

“You know,” Albus cocks his head to the side, “now he might get mistaken for his father.”

“That might work to our benefit.” Rose decides, tucking away her wand and twisting her fiery curls into a makeshift updo.

Once they’re through the castle doors, they split up. Scorpius heads over to the refreshment table. If there’s one thing he knows about his mother, it’s that she fancies sweets. He’ll just wait her out.

He uses the ladle to pour a bit of punch into his cup. Something slams hard into his back, sending red liquid down the front of his dress robes. “Oof.” He grunts, turning around to find himself face to face with Rosanna McVay.

This girl has never known loss, or pain. She is innocent, with a thousand stars in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she covers her mouth, with one hand. “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s fine,” is all Scorpius can manage. It’s physically painful to look at her, yet he can’t bring himself to turn away.

“Here, let me help you.” She grabs some napkins from the table, attempting to sop up the mess from his robes.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll manage.” Scorpius stills her hands.

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

“Rosanna,” a new voice, his father’s voice, moving closer.

“I should go.”

Scorpius catches her wrist. Maybe he can undo this; maybe he can save this girl, save both of them. “Do you love him?” Tell me it was worth it. Tell me what to do.

“He’s not like everyone says.” Rosanna tells him.

Time turns again, only now without warning.

————————————————————————

Rosanna hears her muggle phone vibrating, on the side table. She makes no move to grab it, smoothing a hand over Draco’s hair. The pair of them are still crammed up on the couch; his head resting against her chest. He looks so peaceful, breath labored as he sleeps. His weight on her is welcome, tethering her to the earth. Holding her still.

After a moment, the vibrating stops. Only to start again.

Rosanna curses, under her breath. Accio phone.

The caller I.D. reads ‘Hermione,’ buzzing to life again.

“Hermione?” Rosanna answers, on the first ring.

“Where are you?” Hermione asks.

“I’m home,” Rosanna tells her, “why?”

“I just received word,” she breaks off, “Ro, I don’t know how this happened.”

“What happened?”

“Rose, Scorpius and Albus…they never made it to Hogwarts.”

“How is that possible?” Rosanna shakes her husband awake, softly.

“They vanished from the train- I- I’m down at the ministry with Ron and Harry. Can you come?”

“We’re on our way.”

————————————————————————-

"What happened?" Scorpius asks. The trio is back where they started, present day. "Did one of you turn it?"

"No." Rose shakes her head, still in her gown.

"Something must be wrong with the time turner." Albus frowns.

"Well if it's dodgy, we probably shouldn't be using it." Rose concludes, turning up her nose. "I have a feeling she tampered with it."

"Who?" Scorpius demands, impatiently.

"You know very well who! The same person who stole it from the ministry." Rose tells him.

"Come off it, Rose." Scorpius scowls, "Delphi is only trying to help."

"She said all you had to do is turn it, therefore she must have already charmed it to where she wanted it to go." Rose takes a step closer, jabbing a finger into Scorpius' chest.

"That's barmy." Scorpius protests, cupping his hand over hers.

"Either way," Albus scratches the back of this neck uncomfortably, he hates when they fight. "I don't think we should play around with this. It's dangerous and we could wind up stuck wherever we land."

"I have to finish this." Scorpius shakes his head. Preparing to turn time, alone.

"Scorp, please," Albus reaches a hand out to stop him. "Your dad wouldn't want you to do this. If anything ever happened to you-"

"I know, I'll be careful...I just need to fix this." Scorpius insists.

————————————————————————

“Any news?” Draco asks, as they enter Harry’s office. Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione are waiting for them there.

“Still nothing.” Harry shakes his head.

“Damn it,” Draco breathes.

“Did you get word to the girls?” Hermione moves toward Rosanna, reaching for her arm.

Rosanna nods, taking her hand. “Leo and Arlo are on the way to my parent’s house. Lucius and Narcissa have Corina. Polaris and Vega left Hogwarts via portrait with James, they’re at the burrow. Hugo and Lily?”

“At the burrow,” Ron assures her.

“Assuming that our families are being targeted, that’s five of the children in one place.” Draco points out. “We need to move Vega and Polaris.”

“We’ll send reinforcements to the burrow,” Harry offers, instead.

“Very well,” Draco nods, mouth set in a firm line. “There are protective wards in place, I set them years ago. Have whoever you send set up a few more.”

“Thank you.” Ginny replies, turning away to make arrangements.

“You set protective wards around my parent’s house?” Ron had no idea.

“And yours,” Draco says, without hesitation, “Potter’s, Granger’s parents, the list goes on.”

“Well-” Ron stammers. “You didn’t need to do all that, Malfoy. We could’ve managed.”

“A simple thank you will suffice, Weaselbee. No need to blow a gasket.”

After all these years, Harry is surprised that Ron doesn’t understand. Draco is a simple being, he serves one purpose. Protect Rosanna and that which she loves. “Malfoy,” Harry cuts in, “I hate to ask, but your mark…do you feel anything?”

Draco’s dark mark is a subject strictly off limits.

Rosanna curls her fingers over the inside of her husband’s left forearm, protectively.

They tried to remove it, twice. The first time, Draco hacked up his arm himself. Mangled and bleeding over the washroom vanity. He sobbed for hours, even after Rosanna found him, healing him with magic, pressing kisses against his skin. He still has the scars.

The second time, Rosanna attempted to pull the dark magic from the mark itself. It was excruciating, as if the mark had twined itself with his soul.

“Not a thing, Potter.” Draco scoffs, “how’s the scar?”

Harry reels back, as though the question is somehow out of line. “Brilliant.”

They’re both lying.

————————————————————————

"Where are we?" Albus asks, scanning their surroundings. Time travel is severely disorienting.

"Looks like my parent's room." Scorpius whispers.

The trio scampers into the closet, away from view. As footsteps from the hallway draw near.

Rosanna steps in, sporting a lavender maternity dress. Her belly prominent enough to be seen through the material.

Flopping onto the bed, she runs her hands over the growing child, fondly.

The washroom door opens and Scorpius can see his father emerge, through the tiny crack in the wardrobe doors.

Rosanna rolls her head to the side. "Did you have a chance to look at names today?"

"Not yet, love." Draco sighs, turning toward his chest of drawers.

Rosanna's playful tone is gone. "You wanted another girl."

"He's yours, Rosanna, I'll love him."

Scorpius' heart sinks. His father didn't want him. His father who held him up on his shoulders, when Scorpius wasn't tall enough to see. His father who wrote him everyday, while he was away at school. His father who loves him…only because he is Rosanna’s son.

Albus' hand finds his, giving a reassuring squeeze. He knows what it's like to feel unwanted, in a way that Rose never would.

"What the hell does that mean?" Rosanna demands, the angry vein pulsing in her neck.

"I'll be a rubbish father to a son." Draco murmurs, under his breath.

Oh, Scorpius sighs. No, you'll be brilliant. You'll be the best father anyone could have.

"He'll grow to resent me and I'll fail him. I'll fail you." The platinum haired man sits at the edge of their bed.

Rosanna reaches toward him, resting a hand on his lower back. "Draco, no you won't."

Time whirls around without them, again, without warning.

"There's got to be a way we can get this stupid thing to work." Scorpius says, through gritted teeth.

"Let me see." Rose takes the turner, holding it away from her body. "Finite Incantatem." If something was controlling the time turner, it's not anymore. "Give it one last go."

They wind up on the return train to Hogwarts, days before the death eaters are scheduled to appear through the vanishing cabinet.

"Brilliant work, Rose." Scorpius breathes as they scamper into an empty train car, to devise a plan.

Part 15

#through love and by love #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x oc #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter #ginny weasley #Ron Weasley #Hermione granger

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lafcadiosadventures · 11 months ago

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Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXXIV

Francesco Hayez. Two versions of La Meditazione, 1851

(ALSO pls check out this 1877 edition of Mme P, including an illus of Deborah smashing the pornography!! couldn't post that bc of ownership, but I would have!!)

(reading mates: @counterwiddershins + @sainteverge )

Asorted thoughts on this very extense and well written chapter:

(this is a very long post you guys. it happens)

-Deborah should know by now not to visit her regular places

-on a symbolic plane, Catholic rites endanger her, literally put her in a vulnerable physical position (we have seen how catholicism can be a crutch for Patrick, pushing him to pasivity)(Deborah is always more active, but this time she is literally led by her faith to a place her captors know she frequents, and she herself is lying flat against the ground, which gives her captors physical dominace over her)

-Once again, the intelligence of the character is not entirely consistent, the scene tho, is very effective and evocative (deborah has watered the stones of the church floor with her tears. Her captors don't respect anything, it's the whole idea of profanation, not only of a temple but of a sacred moment)

-they blindfold her, cover her with one of her capes and shove her into a carriage. Reminds me a lot of accounts of people who were illegally detained, it all rings true. Once agin this is the (monarchic) state employing tactics of criminals.

-Deborah never gives up mentally, refuses to walk and has to be pushed, uses her eloquence to persuade the guards to let her live for the sake of her child (a smart rhetoric tactic, since her captors don't care about her, maybe they will doubt helping kill her if they know she is pregnant)

-Borel's narrator acts as if we don't know what we learnt last chapter (she is not going to be killed, she is sent to the king's brothel) giving the reader the upper hand over Debbie.

-However we don't know if her persuasivve speech has worked, we are as blind as her. She shakes and cries out in disgust as she recieves a succession of kisses on her cheeks and mouth. The person who just did that is a woman, who tells her she is safe and surrounded by people who love her. We guess this is the Madame. Her current tactic after kissing her against her will is being verbally soft and respectful, minding protocol and her title.

-Deborah is still blindfolded, not allowed to learn the structure of the place she is imprisioned in, yet the narrator shows us she is paying attention to what she can percieve as she follows the madame through the building (stairs, counting the sounds of locks, etc)

-Once inside her well furnished bedchamber-cum-cell, her blindfold is removed. Her two servants are incredibly ugly old men, very polite as well, dressed in Green, a color that has been highlighted in the narrative in relation to the clothes of Villepastour and the Knight of Youth. Beauty, mundanity and sexuality connects Villepastour and the perhaps more positive (and less pusilanimous) but also deadly Knight, so it's valid to connect the servants with them. They all serve the same credo. (it would be clever, even if nothing points to this, if in a Der Blaue Engel twist, the servants were past Villepastours, former discarded lovers of Pompadour, reduced to serfdom and watchdog status)

-A feast is brought to her room (the idea is to make her lower her guard) she is famished and parched but doesn't touch even a glass of water (the theme of the pure heroine resisting worldy temptations, seen in many fairytales) She suspects the food is poisoned but I imagine also a kind of repugnance from anything that came from her captors, accepting the food is in a way, playing by their rules. A dueña (duègne in french, a chaperone) undresses her and introduces her into her bed. (We are now in a bifurcation, Deborah enters one of the types of prisons for women -> the royal Brothel, we will perhaps see a prison for men, if Patrick has survived his illegal arrestation)

-Deborah tries to guess where she is, relying on what she heard and smelt on the carriage, and what she has seen and how she was treated in the mansion. (this once again, reads absolutely verosimile if one compares it with accounts of people who have been kidnapped or illegally imprisoned, Borel is well documented and it shows. Once again, it is interesting that he chooses to give us this insight with Deborah and not with Patrick. Borel wants us to stay with Deborah and like her, believe that Patrick is dead and she is all alone)

-She concludes she has been kidnapped and taken to one of Villepastour's retirement houses (nobles used to have smallish mansions to keep mistresses/sexual servants, sometimes literally trapped with no chance to leave... not really different from forced sexual labor) Her guess is as we know, partially wrong but very close to the truth. and if Villepastour hadn't spoken would Pompadour had remembered to take revenge on her?

-{i think it's fair to say that the king in this novel is like the king in chess. He is not at all the most powerful piece in the board. He does evil and has no qualms about it -as we will see- but everything has to be arranged for him, he must be served in all orders. He doesn't even know who Deborah is, so people around him can definitely use him for their petty revenges. It's not that he's a dupe (even if Pompadour is the mastermind of the novel) it's just that he is lazy, even the hard work behind his "fun" must be arranged by others}

-Deborah regrets not having stolen a knife from the table. She is far from defeated mentally, she'd rather die fighting.

-She avoids sleeping to be alert, opens the window. The fresh air revives her (nature comes to her aid against the evils of men) she sticks her head against the door to try and hear anything to avoid being surprised, but also, to learn anything that might be informative.

-once again the dueñas enter her room and manipulate her body while she still sleeps, putting her some pretty slippers on. She is now a doll, with little to no bodily autonomy. She is taken to a bathroom (the narrator still takes Debbie's pov, she is trying to ammass as much details of the place she is in as she can) She is put inside the bathtub (Borel cleverly uses passive voice to show us how she is being treated, gently but forcefully, and sorpresively. She cannot anticipate her servant/gaoler's movements and they are strong enough to lift her and move her like furniture)

-Enter a woman in a robe who deborah recognizes by the sound of her voice as the woman who has kissed her the night before.

-Enter the portrayal of queer persons -lesbians were a privileged subject- in french Romanticism to this particular book. How does Borel does it, in contrast to his peers? Physically there is nothing ordinary about her, Borel barely spends a line on how she looks like, it's how she acts that interests him. Borel is to be commended for this, there is nothing constitutive, physically essentialist about her queerness. What's important is that she is a mature woman of “vulgar”figure, with very refined manners. We conclude, probably a working class woman, nothing remarkable in her apereance, who has learnt the refined manners of her bosses. (I would love to compare her with Passereau, the beautiful and hispanic looking little sparrow who is confused with a male prostitute by the men gathering under the gay cruising spot aka the Boar in the Tuilleries, but I need to reread Passereau, all I can think of rn is, although Passereau isn't foreign he -like Borel- is thought to be, and remember how many of Vautrin's boyfriends are italian or corsican, even if vautrin himself is extremely ??? north of france looking with his flaming red hair, it is not unfrequent to “foreignize” homosexuality, even by authors who were queer themselves, like balzac, and very possibly Borel as well)

-I need at this point to bring up the Mother Superior in the Sainte-Eutrope Convent from Diderot's La Réligièuse. She and the Madame have some things in common. The Superior basically does the rounds undressing and bathing and forcing herself -sometimes, she is desired by some- on her novices and nuns. Her physical portrayal is similar to Borel's she is basically unremamrkable looking, of extreme sensitivity, a little fat but there's no Phrenology going on here, from either author. Although the Superior abuses her power she is not a rapist of the violent kind, I think the Mother Superior actually believes Suzanne loves her back, and she is incredibly surprised when Suzanne, right after making her orgasm, cries out for help because she thinks the Superior is sick)(this is fine erotic writing by old Denis, the prologuist of my penguin edition complains Suzanne is too inocent to be believeble, I personally buy it)(this book needs rereading though)

-Borel highlights her mouth (something that Balzac does in Théodore Calvi's -one of his corsican homosexual bandits, and a personal favorite of mine- introduction, and Hugo does with the very likely male prostitute Montparnasse. Borel does a close up shot of her lips, her honeyed mouth, she is savouring every word she says, to make Deborah trust her but also alludes to an excess of sensuality same as Diderot's Mother Superior)

-what follow is a long and interesting dialogue with Deborah and her. Both women are written as intelligent and trascend their stock roles of pure heroine and perverse gay madame.

I'll make use of cam's translation here:

“The interest that is being taken in me is too violent, madame; it is an indiscreet and insulting zeal which I fault and reject. But may I at least know who professes such an exorbitant benevolence towards me? In whose name was I led to this shelter? what is this shelter and what fate is awaiting me here?”

“(...)Answer me, am I here in a state prison?” “Does this residence, mylady, resemble a dungeon? and me, do I look like a gaoler?” “Could I be in a convent?” “Maybe.”

(that maybe...Even if couvent in french doesn't connote brothel like in elizabethan english, Borel invites us to find the similarities between both institutions)

-Deborah is correct in her intuitive association between the royal whorehouse and a prison.

-Borel's narrator illustrates the madame's thought process when Deborah begs for more concrete answers. Characterizing her as a bohemian, (une fine bohême, with an ^ instead of an `) a romani woman (we are perhaps getting exotification of homosexuality as foreign here?) and “fine” she is indeed, she is very sharp and makes the lies she tells appear like confidences the “élèves” have forced her to make. So she invents a story about a suposed benefactor (the Count of Gonesse) who heard about Deborah's enemies and vulnerable position and has taken her so that she can enjoy a confortable and safe life in seclusion, and throw herself freely into “the voluptuosness of pain and melancholy”. Deborah doesn't even believe the Count to exist. If he does, she demands to be told what does he want from her, what are his plans concerning her...(the "why me" moment) The idea behind the Madame's answer is to make Deborah believe her benefactor wants to win her heart and marry her later on, so that she accepts the king's “visits” meekly and with a false sense of hope.

-Deborah ofc doesn't want to marry again (least of all, marry an unknown man who is forcing her into a sense of indebtedness and gratitutde) this setback makes the madame think of starting Deborah's education aka having sex with her, (the king, Borel tells us, is fooled, he only gets the crumbs the Madame leaves for him) She tries to get Deborah naked, but she holds her clothes back. She gets chided for her modesty (only ugly women should be modest, the madame claims, while groping her body and describing it through metaphors, marble like breasts, her silouette, as curvaceous as a vase, something @sainteverge has noticed is a reccurring theme in her descriptions) Borel is in fact very explicit, breaking the boundaries that usually constrain fellow “serious” novelists who avoid explicit sex scenes even when the plot would require them. Borel lets us know the madame was kissing deborah's breasts and was in fact about to give her oral, when Deborah stops her by holding her forehead away from her crotch.

-the madame appologizes but asks Deborah to understand she wants to earn her love, while she laments not being a man, in order to please her. (mentioning this bc wanting to change genders is another favorite theme for the Fr Romantics... homosexuality seems linked in this period to a kind of transexuality)

-Deborah is said to not be able to understand sex between women. Although she finds the Madame's stares sexually charged, can only link them with how Patrick touches her/looks at her, she is still in the dark. Reminiscent of Diderot's Suzanne Simonin whose body the Superior uses to reach orgasm, and she never understands what is happening to the other woman. (it must be said that Borel calls lesbianism a depravation*. Diderot links it to an illness-no comments- he however, thinks he is being sympathetic)

* there are many instances in this book where Borel asumes a moralistic writing style, such as when he describes Pompadour’s sex apron,,,

-An interesting point is that art is what allows Deborah to understand homosexuality. Pornography in a wold where gayness isn't talked about openly is the only point of reference she can have. This is very interesting (consider vautrin, speaking of his sexuality constantly in terms of references from the books he has read, only once porn in his case)

-another interesting detail, re the dynamics of this prison: Deborah has the keys to her own room (cell) so she locks herself in. She proceeds to break everything in it, especially the porn on the walls and shelves of her library (if you haven't watched the Handmaiden (2016) yet, watch The Handmaiden, it's the closest thing to a madame putiphar adaptation we have without it being one) She makes a huge ruckus, throws boooks, porcelain figurines the whole shebang in a cathartic explosion, out of the window. The madame begs to be let in, begs for Deborah not to break anything else. Deborah confronts her, she is in a brothel and she is a madame. The Madame still tries to deny it all, insists with the story of Gonesse, but Debbie still doesn't open her door, so the madame summons brute force (once again as in many moments of this book, people are persuaded first by kindness then by brute force to submit to the hegemony) a soldier is summoned to break the door down, Debbie stands her ground. after calling her a madwoman, a thankless madwooman who pays back with insanity the kind treatment she was given, the men start pounding on the door, they break it down but face a barricade of furniture, Deborah yells she will jump out of the window if they even cross it. The Madame begs the soldiers to stop bc Debbie is in fact capable of keeping her word and the blame would fall on her. The battle is won by Deborah who is sieged inside her room with enough food to last a few days...

#madame putiphar #long post

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starified-lizzy · 8 months ago

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VERY SERIOUS AND PERSONAL POST BELOW. DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT.

Do not EVER call your impulsive thoughts “intrusive.” Especially around me.

Why?

Well, as stated in the SS above, if you actually acted on REAL intrusive thoughts, then you’d be a criminal.

I know this one post won’t change public perception of the damned “trend”, but if I can enlighten some people that having Intrusive Thoughts is an actual mental illness (most commonly associated with OCD) and not a silly little thought you had one day, then I’ll be happier than a pig in shit.

I want everyone to be aware of a few things:

1) yes, everyone gets genuine intrusive thoughts from time to time. However, the difference between just one random Intrusive thought to someone suffering from it, is how repetitive, and insistent they are. If- for example, someone pisses you off and you just *really* want to strangle that person that day, that’s normal, everyone gets that way from time to time. But if the thoughts keep reappearing and won’t go away no matter how much you try to distract yourself… *that’s* when someone’s suffering from it. Obviously, I am not a doctor, so I don’t know how intrusive thoughts are actually diagnosed, this is all my personal interpretation of it as someone who *does* suffer from this.

2) Having/suffering from intrusive thoughts *DOES NOT* make you, or anyone else, a bad person. The only time it does, is when you or someone else *ACTS* on those thoughts or intentionally fantasizes about doing it, if it wasn’t illegal.

Onto ways that- I have learned and believe- differentiates Impulsive thoughts from Intrusive thoughts.

Warning for mentions of murdering and using guns but only because it’s for an example on the difference between intrusive and impulsive thoughts. Dead dove; do not eat.

To discern what the difference between the two types are, I have these few simple questions to answer;

Will you get hurt/die if you act on it?

Will someone else get hurt/die if you act on it?

How severe of trouble will you be in with the law if you act on it?

Can you *seriously* see yourself doing this?

By your religious/moral standards/rules, will you still be holy/a good person if you act on this?

If the answers to those questions look something like:

None

Yes

Then those are IMPULSIVE thoughts.

If the answers look something like:

Yes

Extreme

Then those are INTRUSIVE thoughts.

Content examples of the differences between the two-

Impulsive:

I should dye my hair

I should get a tattoo

I should throw this egg at the wall

I should paint my walls a piss yellow color for shits and giggles

I should get a motorcycle license.

Intrusive (they will be in 2nd POV as this is typically how they sound- in words- to me)

You should kill that person.

You should take a gun and shoot that (living being).

You should run those people over.

What if you drove into a ditch?

You should (do unspeakable act) against that person.

!!!!Intrusive thoughts are not a trend. They are a genuine mental illness that people suffer from, and could get someone (or you) seriously hurt if you actually “let the intrusive thoughts win.”!!!!!!

!!!!Having/suffering from Intrusive thoughts DOES NOT make you a bad person. It’s ONLY when you ACT on them, or intentionally fantasize about them that makes you a bad person!!!!

#venting #tw venting #intrusive thoughts #impulsive thoughts #intrusive thoughts are different from impulsive thoughts #intrusive thoughts aren’t fun #intrusive thoughts are not a trend #mental illness #serious post #dead serious #dead dove do not eat #cw mention of murder #cw vent #cw intrusive thoughts #only for examples #tw mention of gun use #tw mention of murder #cw mention of gun use

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lastoneout · 7 months ago

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You know usually I wouldn't respond to someone acting like this on one of my posts(especially given how many times you just completely openly use a slur here) but you seem to really care about disabled people and so I want this to be a learning opportunity for you.

Assuming that by using a common tumblr joke that is exclusively intended as a replacement for saying you are going to do something illegal means that I was obviously trying to get away with using a slur for people like me that hasn't left my fucking lips since I was 11 and then react as if I had in an extremely cruel and aggressive way while SAYING SAID SLUR like 50 times TO ME, A DISABLED PERSON, is cruel and shameful. Please take a fucking step back and chill out so that you don't catch other disabled people in the crossfire of your activism. I've literally never in my life heard someone use the phrase "go full r*tard" and maybe that's just me but I assure you it never would have occurred to me that that's how it could be interpreted. What I actually meant was "go full rabid dog" because I am a dog furry who likes being a bit hyperbolic when speaking about people and power structures that perpetuate harm against me and those I care about, and I used the "[REDACTED]" joke because as a queer disabled person I don't want to get my blog deleted for maybe sort of wishing violence upon someone even as a joke.

I am disabled, physically and mentally. I have several learning disabilities. I'm neurodivergent. I literally cannot go a day or two without making a post about disabled rights. I talk about my disabilities in my pinned post. Maybe take a step back and actually look into the person behind the post before immediately assuming I hate disabled people so much I'd try to sneak a slur(that again I have not used once in almost two decades and that I routinely call out people IRL for using) into a post where I specifically talk about how we should dig up one of the most influential eugenicists in history and kill him again.

It would have taken you like five seconds to check my blog and see that I'm disabled and like yeah a disabled person can be ableist but you could have sent me an ask with your concern or been a bit nicer about letting me know the possible unintentional implications in my joke given my blog makes it clear I would care about not harming disabled people even indirectly. But instead you decided I'm a perfectly abled asshole and thus it's fine to scream a slur at me, someone who is actually mentally ill and disabled and harmed by said slur, while trying to "protect" mentally ill and disabled people. And like I won't tell you to not be angry about disabled rights, I'm fucking pissed 24/7 about them, but when you are actively doing harm to the very people you claim to want to protect it's time to reevaluate your methods.

TL;DR From one (I am presuming based on your pinned) disabled person and activist to another: This is embarrassing. Do better.

"sugar is poison" sugar is your body's preferred fuel choice and if you stop eating entirely you will die

#cw r slur #ask to tag #r slur #like this is great actually I love seeing a slur that legit makes me feel real physical pain in my chest this many times 10/10 no notes #cw fatphobia #cw diet culture #cw disordered eating #cw ableist language #cw ableism

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childabusesurvivor · 15 days ago

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Review - Madness: Race and Insanity in a Jim Crow Asylum

New Post has been published on https://www.childabusesurvivor.net/reviews/2025/01/22/review-madness-race-and-insanity-in-a-jim-crow-asylum/

Review - Madness: Race and Insanity in a Jim Crow Asylum

The author of Madness: Race and Insanity in a Jim Crow Asylum, Antonia Hylton, provides an in-depth look at something we’ve not documented very well: racially segregated asylums.

Have you ever heard that many states had asylums specifically for black people in America? This book traces the history of Crownsville Hospital in Maryland from its very beginning, 1911. The history is not pretty, and it’s not an uplifting story. Unfortunately, it fits right in with other books I’ve read recently, which I’ll get to.

It’s a story of an asylum that promised healing and rehabilitation but rarely provided anything of the sort. Antonia also brings the receipts to compare what was supplied at Crownsville compared to white mental health asylums in Maryland at the time. White children diagnosed with mental illness were given an education along with treatment. In contrast, black children with the same diagnosis were considered dangerous and left to fend for themselves among the adult population of Crownsville with no education. That’s just one of many examples.

She also documents how Crownsville was used strategically during the Civil Rights era to have black protesters, agitators, or unemployed black men “committed” to the asylum, with little to no medical basis, just to keep them out of society. She shares details of family members sent to Crownsville, never to be heard from again, and families left only with a mystery of what might have happened to a brother, child, and father.

As I said, this isn’t a pleasant read. However, it did make a nice segue into an older book on a similar topic, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness.

What the two books together taught me is how our justice system has continuously created crimes and punishments meant to hide away problems and how mental health issues become criminal issues when they involve people of color and lower social castes. As we have discussed many times, there are far too many people in the US who need mental health treatment. Far too many of them live in poverty and with cultural trauma that is contributing to their mental health issues, and yet we seem determined to house them in a place that only makes it worse.

We do that by criminalizing things like loitering, being homeless, and disturbing the peace and selectively applying those charges to people of color and some poor whites. We also do it by handing down massive criminal penalties for acts of self-medicating involving drugs that we don’t hand down for drinking and driving or taking illegal pills to self-medicate our mental health issues.

The asylum system in the US was not great for many people. What these books make clear, however, is that it was especially difficult for black patients in segregated mental health asylums. We shut down almost the entire asylum system because of documented mistreatment of patients, but instead of providing resources for treatment, we put people in prison now. Where they still don’t get any treatment and where they are easily ignored and forgotten by most of us.

We have failed at this for over 100 years and show no sign of improving it. I’d argue that this is only going to get worse. We elect people who don’t care about the situation being played out in our prison systems and who benefit from the way things are now. In turn, they keep telling us how scared we should be of immigrants, minorities, the mentally ill, etc.

If we want to advocate for mental health, we need to advocate against policies that make mental health issues worse for so many people. Prisons do that. Putting more people in jail does that. The number of incarcerated people in the US is the highest in the world. Many of them need mental health treatment, not criminal records, and a felony conviction that prevents them from getting jobs, housing, and care even once they are outside of prison.

We are failing members of our society because we don’t see them as fully human. This failure transcends race, even if much of it started with racism. The Jim Crow laws that had blacks put in prison and mental asylums in the 50s and 60s became the War on Drugs in the 80s and 90s. Poor whites then got caught up in the same system when the opioid epidemic hit, and they were being dumped into the same penal system. Not one designed for treatment and rehabilitation, one designed to lock up people we don’t like. The lack of mental healthcare leads to more interactions with law enforcement, which leads to more violent deaths and more mental health issues that get worse in prison, leading to further deaths.

It’s not clear that enough of us care to do anything to change this. It may be that we like believing that there is always some group beneath us in society, and the addicts with mental health problems will do well enough for that purpose.

If I may make one more book recommendation in this post. The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together, by Heather McGhee, is a book that takes a hard look at the things we’ve all lost because of past racist policies. It’s especially interesting to take a good, hard look at how we all want to preserve our standing in society by keeping someone else below us and how policies we put in place to ensure some are always at the bottom wind up hurting all of us. From the community pools filled with concrete to avoid having to be desegregated through anti-immigrant sentiment that limits the growth opportunities in struggling small cities and out to not providing mental health care and addiction treatment to people who don’t “deserve it.”

There’s always an assumed reason not to provide something to prevent misuse, but we all miss it when it’s gone. We all pay the price for a lack of mental health options and addiction treatment, even as we vote against creating spaces to provide that before people end up in prison.

It’s too easy to seek simple answers to complex issues involving mental health treatment, but simple answers are rarely good ones. All three of these books show us a broken system: We kept trying to find simple answers that made us feel safe instead of complex answers that made things better for everyone. We have not learned a lesson yet.

#Addiction, #Book, #Healing, #History, #MentalHealth, #Prison

#Addiction #Book #Healing #History #Mental Health #Prison

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the-firebird69 · 2 months ago

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So Trump used some stupid stuff in order to shoot his own son and appears that he's doing that and that he is fiercely mentally ill and her son is saying he didn't get to work for one reason or the other and the girl just said it's not working you can't identify why and it's probably Trump masking other people doing stuff but not letting it work because he's some sort of wind and he's Mrs latest so there is a line that's Orange it goes up the front of the concrete Pole and it's not supposed to by the way and you're not supposed to attach things to the power line equipment in the do get upset about it the other stuff is very close to the power line and it's attached the same box and it leads to the fact that the line itself might be fouled somehow and it happens it gets hit by lightning and it kind of ruins the cable it's copper and they have to replace a lot of them in the did it wrong went outside it says the connection works it's not the greatest but it does work and it should work enough about 80% usually at 50% it still works so the computer is the issue and the two don't know how to fix it they've run a few things and they're going to try and get help to fix it and our son says he can't get online and the dumb thing wants him to call for a new password which they supposedly put in and it's really frustrating A lot of people that it doesn't work and his own father is doing the stupid s*** so people are getting mad at them and really to no end it is every day and constant that they do this usually on purpose and in this case Trump is doing it on purpose and he's an a****** and it usually takes our son two or three months to get the stupid Wi-Fi working because these pricks in his way and in his face every damn day it's these lunatics messing around with him and we're getting sick of it and he's sick of it we don't want to listen to it anymore and we certainly don't want to put up with it anymore but it seems that that's the way it's going so we're sitting here watching this unfold and it's a daily occurrence and we are actually very sick of it and yeah it's been 11 minutes on the second try and it probably won't hook it probably won't work but we do understand that they also mess with that kind of thing and give people impatience for waiting for it to hook up sometimes it takes up to 20 minutes no it's usually about 5 minutes and it should be done sometimes they do that so what it looks like is somebody here put that line in and they did it to say that someone before them did it and it's Mickey mouse it doesn't look like it's Mickey mouse yet but it does look like some sort of weird disaster where he apparently appears to be tying in illegally to Florida power and light electricity and Stan said we don't want that stuff here you're going to cause a fire and he said it's not my fault I have to do it and stuff like that you won't let me use the address said the plugs right over there and yes I don't feel like stealing no he feels like stealing power and he doesn't feel like paying for it and people are going to come down on him he's advertising that everybody's doing it so this is what the guy gets as payment for messing around with our son and we are concluding here that it is not going to turn on using the Old wire and the guy apparently the guy did a decent job but his Garth says should have run a new line like he did because otherwise it won't work and it's not working right so he's going to put it back over and probably try again and it probably won't work he says and it probably won't and we're back to square one with a stupid cable which takes months to get going anywhere it goes these assholes are on it

Thor Freya

I don't care what your excuses you're messing with me so I'm messing with you and you ain't going to make it both of you are going to die and you know you're going to die

Zues Hera

Olympus

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vtori73 · 6 months ago

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You know... I hate MHA, I know that's a strong feeling to have for something I've barely watched and probably haven't read (I maybe read a chapter or two but honestly IDR) but regardless one thing I do find interesting that I just realized is, that as someone who occasionally unintentionally watches from the sidelines the drama from the fandom, that one character in particularly unintentionally exposes how much our irl society excuses and supports abusers and rape culture.

Yes, I'm talking about Endeavor. From what I've read from others talking about him he is basically excused for all his actions & I'm not saying it was the authors intention to depict what happens in real life with abusers because I honestly have no idea but personally don't believe it was, however, since I only get second hand account I can't say for sure. Regardless, this wasn't the main point of why I brought this up, while the manga was probably most likely not intentionally making commentary on abusers and how our society deals with them, it HOWEVER ends up showing us exactly how our society supports abusers and abuse/rape culture through the fandom & specifically the fans of the abuser character.

"Fiction isn't really life, supporting and abusive characters doesn't mean anything, blah blah blah," I really dgaf because needless to say that isn't the point of this post the point of this is me saying how fans within the fandom mirror our societies overall treatment and sentiment towards abusers. Whether they do this in real life or not is irrelevant BUT what I will say to that is that it's more likely than not that they do support abusers because statistically & culturally speaking abusers ARE much more supported by a majority of our society vs their victims which is something we also see mirrored within the fandom (aka victim blaming culture).

Also, while I will say I haven't personally read it so I don't get a final day but i do believe from what I've seen/heard that I don't believe it's supposed to be some nuanced take on abuse & abusers/abuse victims but rather is just the cultural norm of how society see & treats abusers being depicted and upheld in the manga and depicts how it believes (japanese society/society in general, the author etc) is the best way victims should be dealt with, react, treat their abusers. I also say this because of the way it depicts a lot of other things like how the villains are just full of marginalized victimized people who in real life are more likely to just be victims of systemic violence and abuse and are much less likely to perpetuate that violence themselves. Some people are quick to believe people like this are full of criminals though like homeless people, for example, who have been to jail and have records & are in general seen as by the average person as seedy, untrustworthy, frightening bums who deserve to be in their situation but what's usually at fault here is some marginalization or misfortune that made them homeless which is criminalized and so they end up having records because them being homeless IS illegal and anything they try doing to help themselves and live is made illegal to try and get them out of the public & away from the rest of society, similar to how society treats mentally ill people, disabled people and abuse victims who aren't perfect/quiet and a lot of these identities intersect more often than not.

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stevensaus · 9 months ago

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With the Biden administration preparing to recommend a change in classification of marijuana, the fearmongering is coming out of the woodwork. There's a new study making the rounds through the news organizations with headlines saying that teens who use THC are more likely to have psychotic episodes (with varying levels of fearmongering and exaggeration). I've personally seen a number of news outlets tie this story together with another recent study indicating that daily THC users now outnumber daily drinkers among adults in the US. 1 Sadly, a lot of them do not actually link to the study (here it is again), and they also bury a couple of really important facts that are right there in the study. The study did find a correlation between cannabis use during adolescence (ages 12-19) and having a psychotic disorder. However, in a gender-specific model, "the effect of cannabis was only statistically significant for males during adolescence." The study "found no evidence of association between cannabis use and risk of psychotic disorder during young adulthood (ages 20–33 years)." The study examined whether or not someone had reported cannabis use with the Canadian Community Health Survey (CCHS) and had sought health services for psychotic disorders2. It's important to note the limitations of that last point. It is not the fault of the researchers; it is a limitation of doing this kind of research. They did not -- and could not -- separate those who had an undiagnosed mental health condition who sought THC as a way to self-medicate from those who potentially had a mental health condition brought on by the use of THC. It is quite plausible (and demonstrated!) that THC -- just like alcohol, or ADHD medications, or any number of substances -- has an effect on developing brains. We should take that risk seriously. Y'know, by having it be illegal for teens. So it's also important to note that having THC legal for adults does not mean that more teens use cannabis. In fact, one researcher found "that fewer minors reported having used cannabis in the previous month in states where the drug had been legalized. But they also found that in the 18 states that had both legalized cannabis and allowed retail sales of the drug, some adolescents who were users of the drug used it more frequently. The net effect was a flat or slight decline in cannabis use among adolescents." (NY Times link, full text here) But worse -- to me, at least -- is that there's a non-zero, but unknown number of children who are self-medicating because they aren't getting the mental health support they need. Given the crisis with teen's mental health and our country's messed up way of handling mental healthcare, that needs to be the focus, not frantically covering when they're doing things they aren't allowed to do as if it has relevance to what adults do. We're already finding out that some of our stereotypes about those who use THC are ... well, just wrong. We should examine the science carefully and deliberately, while making sure that we avoid our cultural assumptions (that were largely informed by racism). We would do far more for our children if we took care of their mental health needs, regulated THC appropriately, and avoided using children as a sensationalist anti-marijuana tool. 1 I continue to maintain that if you had to choose between the two, it would be healthier for people to choose THC than booze. 2 They explicitly excluded those who had sought treatment in the six years prior to first completing the CCHS. Featured Image by Nicky ❤️????????????❤️ from Pixabay https://ideatrash.net/2024/05/its-easier-to-scare-folks-about-pot-than-treat-teens-mental-illness-a-look-at-the-news.html?feed_id=61&_unique_id=6650c54611da7

#news #science #cannabis #marijuana #research #thc

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spockandstars · 4 years ago

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It’s so funny to me when straight people are like “there is no way Kirk and Spock could have been in love/married, they would have no reason to hide it!” And I’m like... yeah in-universe sure but did it ever occur to you that these episodes/movies were um... not made in the 23rd century? In the 60s, homosexuality was a mental illness. It could completely destroy your life. It was illegal to be gay in the 70s and 80s in many places in the US. This is the environment in which this show was made.

Did you expect them to tearfully confess their love and start making out? Bro if we can’t even get a main gay character in a family friendly mainstream franchise now what makes you think that would have happened then? And especially since they are cultural icons and the entire franchise revolved around their story. I can’t even imagine a popular, commercialized franchise having their leading gents fall in love today. The near ubiquitous disgust towards gay people during that era is something that is sort of lost on us kiddos sometimes.

Kirk and Spock are so culturally significant because they represent the first characters that a generation of queer people saw themselves in. Media rep is important, and this was absolutely an important first step in the shifting of a culture. Intentional or not. Heck, my uncle even admitted to me that those two singlehandedly made him reevaluate his homophobia. He confessed that when he saw the sickbay scene for the first time, he was struck by the deep love they had for each other. And he saw the beauty in that. Why should it matter if they’re two guys?

The fact that they even came up with the concept of “t’hy’la” or included lines like “Jim, this simple feeling is beyond V’Ger’s comprehension,” “I’ve spent a lifetime learning to hide my feelings,” “I have been and always shall be yours,” and the whole “noblest part of myself, I’m responsible for his soul” thing (and the entire plot of The Search for Spock tbh, which is legit just “dude rescues the love of his life by sacrificing everything”) was incredibly bold. If they hadn’t thrown in the words “friend” or “brother” it would be extremely difficult to interpret these moments in a way that wasn’t romantic. And thus, their affection was confined to meaningful looks and layers of subtext.

They seriously went as hard as they could have given era. Depicting them as being explicitly in love would have been impossible. Star Trek takes place in the future, but it is limited by the social conventions of the era in which it is made.

#spirk #k/s #s’chn t’gai spock #kirk/spock #star trek tos #the premise #star trek movies #james t kirk #my post #meta #the search for spock #meta analysis #space husbands #Star Trek tos #best of me 🥰#star trek #k/s is canon tag

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jitzlemonade · 3 years ago

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Never You

Zhongli / Reader ft.Guizhong

Contains: angst, hurt no comfort, hung up over one’s past love, unhealthy relationship, mention of mild violence (very mild, really), also kinda mentally ill reader?

Tell me if there’s anything I missed

Summary:

You love Zhongli, and Zhongli loves you. Is it true though?

When he looks at you, you could tell it's full with adoration. A love filled with so much passion that seems like it will never come to an end. He loves with such gentleness and respect that it felt like he placed a crown on your head himself. Your hands in his as together you twirled under the moonlight, a part of you wonders, were you someone deserving of his love?

Faced with his deep affectionate eyes, a part of you berated you for doubting him. Your body moved along with his stride, tracing beautiful patterns with your footsteps. Alas, all good things come to an end. The moon hung high in the sky when the dance slowed down before coming to a complete stop. Leaving two lovers standing still as they held each other in their gazes, a certain ambiguity between them.

He smiled and held your hand towards him, leaning downwards to lay a faint kiss upon your hand, gone as quickly as it came. However, the heat that accompanied it still remained, making you hyper aware of the tender kiss. You could feel red staining your cheeks as you looked away from him. With him, you were the noblest person in the world. There was nothing that you were unworthy of, all the gold and riches in the world are laid before your feet solely for your choosing.

Your flush never faded as his fingers moved to intertwine with yours, stars seemed to glow within his eyes as he smiled, filled with all the beauty in the world. His melodious voice rang in your ears. "Did you enjoy today, my love?“ He asked, his bright eyes centered on you. You nodded, you didn't trust your voice to not fail you. He was too breathtaking at this moment, with the moon shining upon his ethereal appearance, granting him an even more mysterious bearing.

You murmured in your heart, perhaps one of these days when you wake up, he will no longer be by your side, like an intoxicating dream that vanished into thin air. You knew you would never deserve him, yet you clung onto him in your own way. You were unable to extricate yourself from his allure that radiates off him with each of his movements, whether it be a mere wave of his hand, or the way his lips curled up when he finds something amusing. He was a wine that you will always be drunk on and never once sober again.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he spoke up, "Is anything troubling you, my dear?" Startled, you quickly shook your head, "No, nothing of the sort Zhongli," but the nervous chuckle you let out wasn't fooling anyone. He stared at you, like he could see through all your disguise and peer into the truth, he caressed your cheeks " Please, don't hide anything from me..." He bend down to press his forehead against yours, coming so close that you could feel his breath upon your skin.

His worried eyes tore down your walls and you clutched into him, tears welling up in your eyes, "Zhongli... do I really deserve you?" The way he looked at you should be illegal, as if your words held a dagger that stabbed countless times at him, also as if you uttered the most unbelievable thing in existence. He sighed as he pulled you into his embrace once more, "You hold a mirror up to the Goddess of Dust herself, never doubt yourself." He muttered as he placed a kiss upon your head.

You smiled, as if you could compare to a goddess, but still you indulge yourself for once.

If only you knew the true implication behind it.

The seasons changed, yet some things still stay the same. Shoulder to shoulder with Zhongli as you strolled down the streets of Liyue. Along the walk, Zhongli would share ancient tales long lost to time with you. The way he weaves and presents such intricate stories leaves you to marvel in awe. For a period of time, he brings you back into the far, far past to experience it for yourself. The story was alive, and you were part of it, you were there to experience it in its entirety with your own eyes.

Of course, when the last word left his lips, you were brought back to reality. Once again, you were reminded you weren't truly a part of it. However, it doesn't stop you from appreciating history. All stories carried their own unique charm and Zhongli had never failed to breathe life into them all. However, he seemed to have a soft spot for a certain person's tale. Perhaps he himself was oblivious to it.

When she was mentioned, his voice softened, gentle in a way that you have never experienced yourself. His eyes seemed to reflect a thousand emotions, eyes that could have only come from living through centuries, and losing everyone you have ever loved. The love he had for her seemed like it seeped deep into his bones and was a fundamental part of him, unable to ever unentangle himself from it. It gave off the feelings they were star-crossed lovers, transcending beyond space and time.

Guizhong, Goddess of Dust.

He narrates her with adoration, using all the wondrous in the world to describe her. Her kindness, her grace, her gentleness, her wisdom, her love for humans, it all spun out to form a perfect deity, one who was dignified and elegant. One who clearly captured the hearts of everyone. She who loves, and is loved in return, even by the man before you now. She seemed too good for the world, and clearly is. She had gone far too soon and perished during the wretched Archon War. Even then, she was still beautiful as she laid in the midst of Glaze Lilies.

At the start, you held deep reverence for the goddess of dust. A person who was benevolent and wise even at the end. Now, it only reminded you of how you could never compare to her. Stunning, compassionate and noble, even successfully garnering Zhongli's esteem and devotion.

A far cry from you.

You tried, but how could you when this ugly feeling threatened to burst out? You told yourself to stop, but yet the need to desecrate her image never faded. How could you not? When the man of your dreams paints her with such a tender tone? Aren't you mine? You would question but never dared to voice out, why is it she was always in his eyes but not you?

"Was Guizhong really such a wonderful goddess, Zhongli? After all, even gods have their flaws..."

For the first time, he looked towards you with a disappointed look, "I assure you, not one word I've spoken is a lie." The way he looked at you seemed to have changed slightly too, it was slight, but you pin-pointed it. His eyes suddenly seemed a little more clear-headed, while the love was still in his eyes, it had become just a bit fainter. This spirals you down into a hole of anxiety, what if he realized what a petty person I am? What if he doesn't love me anymore?

This anxiety morphed into anger in a blink of an eye, how dare he when you just implied she may not be as perfect as he thinks she is? How dare she dare steal Zhongli who had pledged to love you? You wanted her to be alive again just so you could strangle her with your own hands. This was blasphemy, but you will gladly sink into sin. When this thought flashed, it felt like a cold bucket of water was poured on you. How could you? How could you, even for just a moment, think of doing something so cruel?

You stared at your hands, you realized you were morphing into something terrible. Your hands clenched with your eyes shut tightly. You have to be more careful from now on. A part of you tells you, he doesn't love you. You ignored it, that was just the crazy, psychopathic and bloodthirsty monster in you talking.

Little did you know, it was the part of you that was the most sane, and the one who had seen through everything.

You were jealous of Guizhong, yet you find yourself emulating her. After all, praises would rain upon you from Zhongli's lips whenever you were to don on clothes that reek of her demeanor. The love in his eyes deepens and you feel like a queen once more. However, was this really happiness? You knew what was going on, however you looked away from the truth. Anything, anything but the truth.

One time he slipped up, shattering the already fragile fantasy you pieced together. It might be your fault. Under the night sky, you stood in the midst of blooming glaze lilies, humming a soft tune. The moon shined upon your features so alike to the goddess of dust, that he who chanced upon the scene saw Guizhong. Before his logic kicked in, he had already spoken a name, a name that is not yours.

You already knew, yet it hurts like the first time. Tears glided down your eyes as you looked at Zhongli.

You were the splitting image of Guizhong, the one who he truly loves. That's why he looks at you with such fondness in his eyes. That was why his love was also ever-changing, every time you did something Guizhong would never do, he'll awaken from this delusion a little bit more.

Never once had he called your name once, settling for endearment terms like 'my love' 'my dear' because it was never you who he sees in his eyes. Never once had he kissed you on the lips, deep in the illusion he may be, yet he rejects you. Never once had he vow to you forever, because it was not you who he wants.

Never you.

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

The two stared at each other under the moonlight, one lost in the past, the other broken in the present.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin impact #unrequited love #angst #reader insert #PAIN

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redrobin-detective · 3 years ago

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i watched a video recently where the creator argued that batman should kill bc that would be "true justice" and batman not killing the joker led to jason's death. as someone who knows more about batman than me, i was wondering if you had an opinion in that take?

I'm going to try and be succinct for once in my life.

One of the defining characteristics of Batman is that he does not kill. This is primarily for two reasons. One, it is part of Bruce's beautiful if boneheadedly stringent morality and also a result of his trauma. His whole world was torn apart by death, affecting him so profoundly he's never really moved on. Many of the rogues Batman has faced are horrible, terrible people that the world would be better without but Bruce believes so much in the sanctity of life, even the worst of the worst that he cannot even think about taking one himself. His mental illness comes into play with How Hard he holds to these principles even when, all logic and emotion and sanity say he should take out the threats. His absolute refusal to budge on the issue (along with a few other things) is what makes him both a shining, inspiring hero and a tragic child who never grew up.

Reason two is because Batman, as a concept, needs to have a line. If he did not have a line then he really is no better than Falcone or Black Mask. He recognizes that he is a man acting illegally, breaking and entering, interefering with police investigations and massive amounts of threats and assault. By making himself a very staunch opponent to murder, he knows that he can be given some leniency with the law who will choose to chase the serial killers any day. He knows that at any time he risks falling into the pit of his own darkness and keeps himself out of it by staying firmly on the side of his self imposed line. It's why the conflict between Batman and Red Hood is so compelling, not just for the father/son angle but the shaky mirror image of two men who stand on opposite sides of the line. Is Hood correct that murdering the rotten souls will lead to real change? Is Batman correct that holding oneself to a principle of reform and mercy will do the same? That is the eternal debate.

#batmans inability to kill is a character strength a fatal flaw and a commentary on the space he operates in the narrative all at once

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longing-for-the-past-times · 3 years ago

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Melting away - Lambert x reader

Word count: 1871

Request: Hello! Could I request a Lambert x fem reader fic? Remember the scene where the boys get drunk and dress up in Yen's clothes? I was thinking that the reader finds them first ,she finds Lambert's clothes and gets dressed with them and starts goofing around with the witchers. The rest is up to you .

A/N: So I have a headcanon that Lambert turns into a softie when he's with s/o so here you go. I hope you enjoy my approach on the subject!

P.S: English is not my native language so I'd appreciate if you'd dm me any grammar/vocabulary mistakes or inconsistencies that can be found in the text below. I did not proofread it beforehand.

***

"Some crimes are so terrible that they fill people with terror and offend the gods. The criminal's ill will and the cruelty of his deed conceive a curse that brings the archespore to life. The beast attacks innocent creatures hatefully, trying to take vengeance until justice is done."

Squinting at Geralt's illegible writing, you massaged your temples, setting the griffin feather aside. You had offered to write down the witchers' notes in the Bestiary to express gratitude for being able to spend the winter at the Keep despite the burdensome circumstances. Two days in and your mind was filled with random creature names and what potions and oil blades should be used- it was not boring at all, but there was too much information at once.

Letting out a soft groan, you decided to go to the kitchens to get yourself a late-night snack. Vesemir had gone God-knows-where, taking Uma with him, and from Yennefer's bitter look when you'd last met her in the hallway, you knew Geralt and the boys had other plans. Which meant Lambert was involved too and no matter how much you'd want to cuddle with him and talk all your worries away, you could not deny him a night with his brothers. Nor did you want to.

So you took a detour to avoid the Great Hall, marveling once more at the architectural features of the crumbling Keep despite the terrible cold that was making you shiver violently. You decided on the spot that your shared bedroom will be the next destination and prepared yourself mentally for the endless flights of stairs, knowing that a lit fireplace and a not-so-warm bed would be waiting for you. Your level of clinginess was growing at the thought of it.

Once you reached the kitchens, you made a beeline for the makeshift wine cabinet, picking a dusty bottle of Erveluce and mentally praising Geralt for supplying you with it. Yawning widely you turned to head towards the bedroom, giving up on snacking when loud noises could be heard from outside the room.

'Eskel, you drunk, get out here!'

'Eskel, chop, chop'

'Eskel.... Eskeeeeeel'

Smiling to yourself, you shook your head. The three witchers were wasted. And considering their high alcohol tolerance, that meant something. Slowly opening the door and sticking your head out, you checked if they were gone and began strolling towards the bedroom, the wine bottle pressed tight against your chest. It was gonna be a long night.

***

Fifteen minutes later, you were sat in your wolf pelt-covered bed, bottle of Erveluce half-finished. Despite the warmth emanated by the huge fire, you were trembling with cold, pouting and whining loudly. Damn, you needed him so bad, no matter how wasted he was- to lay your head on his bare chest, carelessly dragging your fingers over the various scars, quietly enjoying the way his tender voice was transformed into vibrations that resounded deep into your core.

And it so happened, you also needed a change of smallclothes and, perfectly convenient, one of the chests containing your belongings was still downstairs. And perhaps if Lambert saw you, even briefly, he would join you to rest- or make you join in. Both options sounded good for the time being.

***

Wrapping yourself in a discarded wolf pelt, you grabbed the candlestick and ventured into the gloomy hallways of the Keep once more. While passing by a giant stone arcade with numerous sculpted details, you took in the almost full moon and wondered what Vesemir was planning. You hoped the old Witcher would succeed- you could not forget the pained expression on your beloved's face when Yennefer suggested reenacting the Trial of the Grasses. And all you could do was stand next to him and stroke his clenched fists with your thumbs while trying to meet his stare. It was natural that he would want to drink the night away after being forced to reminisce about such a dark time of his life.

But it was nicer to spend the rest of the night in bed, by the fireplace, cuddling both of you to sleep. And so you let your footsteps guide you to the main hall, slowly humming along to a catchy tune Dandelion played you once. It was a shame he was not at the Fortress to keep you company.

Being half in a state of daydreaming, you did not notice the pile of discarded clothes, unceremoniously scattered all across the floor, until you tripped over it, stumbling on the stone floor. You muttered a string of curses, but the Toussaint wine had already gone straight to your head, making you unusually joyful and lightheaded.

Breathing in deep, as if it would help you get up, you could feel Lambert's strong scent of pine, leather, and blade oil. It made you even dizzier, if possible- in a good way as you started giggling and burying your face in the abandoned shirt. And then in the doublet. And then clutching the sword-strap.

Dressing up in his clothes seemed like a brilliant idea, for the time being. You even shook your head in disbelief at not thinking of it earlier- it was the closest to being with him without actually being with him, which made a lot of sense in your semi-drunken state. So you did the most logical thing - stripped naked, discarding your clothes in the same chaotic manner, then quickly put on the breeches, along with his other clothing articles, inhaling in deeply at the raw scent of him. Letting out a silent sob of satisfaction, you grabbed his silver sword and tried to sheath it- needless to say, you started to make circles across the hall, struggling to maintain your equilibrium while holding the massive weapon and pointing it to your exposed back where its sheath could be found. After a couple of minutes, you realized your efforts were futile, which somehow filled you with indignation- surely of all the witchers in the Keep, one could teach you how to properly sheath a sword... right?

Shaking your head in disbelief, you gripped the handle of the sword, loudly banging on the door then unceremoniously barging in. The sight that greeted you left you speechless: three broad frames dressed in feminine clothes were standing in front of a huge silhouette generated by two shining crystals. Your mind quickly supplied with the information that that must be the megascope, but your intoxicated brain could not figure out who the bulky females were. And what they were doing at Kaer Morhen.

In a moment, your blood turned into fire, coursing through the veins and loudly thrumming in your ears. You needed to defend the witchers, to make sure that Lambert and the others would stay safe in spite of their drunken states. And the sword you were clutching in your hand could prove more useful unsheathed.

Letting out a fierce battle cry, you charged towards the one with the gangly silhouette, pointing the sword towards the exposed shoulders. Somehow, the person managed to hear you and turned around, moving with impressive speed and strength. The next thing you knew, you were pinned to the hardwood floor, both hands being held tightly above your head. Cursing loudly, you tried to kick your attacker with your feet, but Lambert's knee pads were weighing you down, making it difficult to move.

'Get off me! I will not let you attack my Lambert!', you slurred vehemently, still struggling against the firm grip.

Not being able to move, you glanced towards the person above you, several questions popping into your mind all at once. Did you miss Lambert so bad you could see his face plastered on top of a woman's? Or was that a doppelganger who enjoyed wearing frippery and reading his prey's thoughts?

Your thoughts went silent when the being smashed its lips against yours, gripping your hands tighter and pressing its body against yours. That doppelganger may have had Lambert's face, but it could not replicate his hungry and passionate kisses. And you were right in the middle of one, closing your eyes and letting the taste of vodka and wine numb your senses and drive you into oblivion.

'What the fuck, Lambert? I thought we were supposed to invite the Lodge, not watch you getting laid with-... with-'

'I trust you have an explanation for this. A very good one.'

Yennefer's sharp voice cut through the thick air like a knife, rudely interrupting your kiss. Too dumbfounded to think straight, you held on tightly to Lambert's bare arms as he lifted you up, greedily checking you out. After a moment of awkward silence, it occurred to you that the three female-dressed figures were actually the witchers. Dressed in Yennefer's finest clothes. And completely wasted.

'Go to bed. Now!'

Geralt's stunned figure backed a couple of steps then staggered towards the door, meekly followed by Eskel. You couldn't help but notice that the dress he chose was too tight in the waist for him.

Lambert on the other hand... your significant other had seemed to really enjoy rummaging through the sorcerreses' clothes. His long blue dress seemed to be made of the finest silk, hugging him in places that made your imagination go wild.

'Am I to trust you will make it safely to your bedroom?'

When Yennefer turned towards you it was as if no alcohol had been in your system before. Releasing a deep breath, you opened your mouth in shock, but quickly closed it and nodded in approval. The raven-haired witch looked at Lambert, who was still too busy taking you in, pupils dilated and mouth half-open in awe.

'My lover is wearing my clothes and... and looking like a dream...'

His slur turned into something too incoherent as he placed both of his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You could swear you saw Yennefer's lips curl up into a smile before she left the room.

'Pumpkin- I mean... my love...', he clumsily began, running his hands all over the armor you were wearing. His armor. 'You...you-'

'Let's go to bed, peanut', you pressed his head to your chest, affectionately wrapping it in your hands. 'We may need to switch places for the night but-'

Letting out a small purr he only reserved for you, he scooped you into his muscular arms, pressing a clumsy kiss on your neck. The adoration in his eyes was making you melt in his arms, humming in satisfaction at the warmth radiating from your bodies.

But it ended faster than it began when the witcher set you on the cold stone floor, intent on finding something. You glanced longingly in his direction, pouting and whining.

But he came back shortly after that, holding something in his hands. Crouching down in front of you, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. He eventually backed down, putting something on your head and then making a show of checking you out:

'Let's go to bed, pumpkin', he whispered affectionately, rubbing his nose against yours in an intimate gesture. 'As one might say... it's a job for Papa Vesemir!'

#lambert x reader #the witcher lambert #the witcher imagine #lambert imagine #lambert x you #eskel x reader #eskel imagine

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pyroclastic727 · 4 years ago

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Owl House said fuck capitalism

So this episode was interesting. Lilith pretty much killed her sister. Why the fuck would she do that?

Even more interesting: why is Belos like that? How did Hooty put his head through one of those guards? Who the fuck is the Titan, and why does everyone like him? And how are these all tied together?

This episode was a metaphor for capitalism

...and another delicious step towards radicalizing the youth into dismantling this fucked-up neo-feudal system.

We’ll start with Belos.

Emperor Belos is a weird name, don’t you think? We all thought it was spelled “Bellows,” but it wasn’t. In fact, it’s five letters, starts with Be, ends with os, and describes a megalomaniac emperor that restricts people’s freedom in order to accumulate wealth for himself.

Sound familiar?

Emperor Bezos Belos created capitalism. He saw the beauty of magic and decided to make himself the most powerful.

Belos created a system that destroys the masses and boosts his power.

I’m dipping into fan theory a little, because the fan theory fits. We know that people get branded with coven magic that makes it so they can only specialize in one area. We know that Belos is the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. We know that the excess magic, magic created by restrictions, has to go somewhere.

It’s the same system that many viewers see all the time. A job takes up all your day and tires you for the night, so you can only do one skill for the rest of your life. Jeff Bezos is the most powerful man in the United States. Excess money, money taken by restrictions, has to go somewhere.

The magic goes to Belos, like how the money goes to Bezos. Belos created capitalism, and he won it.

The guards aren’t real.

Look, we’ve never seen their faces. They’re all the same. Why would you work so hard to get to the top, just to become a nameless, faceless killing machine?

Oh, also Hooty stuck his face through one. There is nothing under the armor.

Why? Well, it’s the same reason you see all those celebrities going around flaunting their wealth and bragging about how hard they worked. Like all those songs about how they grind every day and work harder than everyone else while you’re out clubbing, and that makes them dope. And then you take a closer look at them and see that they had a small loan of a million dollars fueling them, or an entire talent agency behind them, or their dad was a famous country star in the 80′s.

They’re fake. They’re hollow. They’re a ploy created by the capitalist emperor to try to delude you into working harder.

Let me put this into perspective. I guarantee that every single one of you has heard stuff like this: “Hard work makes you successful.” “I put in the work, and that’s why I’m successful.” “If you work hard enough, then you can be as successful as Mark Zuckerberg.”

And unless you’re a robot or really lucky, I’m sure all of you have failed at this. Maybe they told you that hard work would make you good at math, so you spent 22 hours a week working on calculus, only to pass it by 3 percentage points and have it destroy your perfect 4.0 GPA. Maybe they told you that if you talked to people enough, then you would make friends, so you spent a lot of time talking to people, only to end up lonely and friendless. Maybe they told you that if you did well in school, you would get a good job, so you spent all your time working hard to be a good student, and then ended up in a soulless, dead-end job.

The guards are there to delude you. Look, who really gains from you being productive? The answer is the ruling class, the CEOs, the government, the bourgeoisie. It has always been that. All you get from working is a paycheck that lets you survive. They get a paycheck that lets them get rich. Just like Belos gets the magic and productivity of the specialized coven witches.

The guards are there to trick you. The truth is that nobody can join the Emperor’s Coven. It’s just there to make you think that hard work will make you successful. Then you spend your entire life working hard, trying to prove to the person in charge that you’re worthwhile. You give your whole life to the Coven, and they give you nothing.

Magic is supposed to be something you pursue for fun. Being skilled at things, being good at something beautiful...that’s supposed to be something you do because you want to. But they took that and made it into a source of productivity. It doesn’t matter if you make good content. All people fucking care about is if you upload the day of premiere, if you make a lot of content quickly, if you maintain a million different conversations with strangers who expect you to be the most interesting person in the room. They don’t care how it hurts you. They don’t care how you crack from the stress. How you cry when you think no one can see you, and then you check your phone and someone can see you, someone did see you, and you have to put on your face and be the charming, magnetic person they want you to be. (oh by the way that’s why I wasn’t online much last week)

And it ruins it. Suddenly you can’t watch The Owl House without being stressed. You can’t make any content. You can’t make spells as powerfully as you want to. Your passion is replaced by perfectionism and insecurity, a voice telling you to keep being the best at what you do, or else they’ll forget you and let you die.

There’s also the Titan.

So nobody has mentioned him before, because in addition to the Boiling Isles being a hellscape full of witchcraft and queerness, it’s also full of atheists.

But suddenly we have people saying all this shit about him? Shit like, he gave witches the gift of magic, and then they learned to use it in a civilized manner, since being uncivilized was disrespectful?

I mean, first off, that’s fucking wrong. The island gives people magic. The island, which just so happened to be shaped like a titan-sized human. But the island/titan gives everyone all types of magic. Hell, even Luz gets to use magic, and she’s human.

It sounds really fucking familiar. (tw for discussion of homophobia and colonialism and misogyny). It sounds like when the news is on and they show some Tr*mp supporter talking about how fetuses have more rights than people and it is their holy duty to take away a woman’s control over her body and force her through unbearable pain and into an 18-year commitment she didn’t want to make. It sounds like all the times people tried to say homosexuality should be illegal, citing a single line in a book written two thousand years ago and heavily edited by a European king. It sounds like all the times people said God wanted them to conquer, to own the entire earth, to force the other races into pain to support them.

This is that bullshit thing people do where they commit awful sins and justify it by citing the will of God.

Or, it’s the Coven using religion as an excuse for evil.

Look, the Emperor’s Coven is clearly colonizer-coded. Saying that people’s original form of magic was wild (and showing a picture with the same joyous, rowdy energy of an 18th or 19th -century Black or indigenous party), and that it was God’s will for them to be “civilized?” Sounds like that thing that powerful white people did where they went and murdered people and forced them into their twisted capitalist system. God, gold, and glory, is what they said, because history books just love to omit the gore.

Lilith is passing the abuse cycle along.

You know, like a good little colonizer. God I fucking hate her. She’s a MILF, in the sense that she’s a Mother I’d Like to Fling off a cliff.

Ah, enough screaming about how much I want to drown Lilith in a tub of Hooty’s mucus. Let’s go into why I want to do that, and how she took the evils of capitalism and just...adopted those.

So, Lilith is sick and twisted for what she did to her sister. But, uhh, that’s the point. You see, there are so many other people out there like Lilith who would do the exact same thing, if given the chance. These are the people who do mean things when the teacher isn’t looking, and then act nice and try to frame you. These are the people who will hate you if you’re better than them. These are people who would do anything to bring you down, if you dare outperform them.

It’s greed, my friends. The mental illness that capitalism blesses us all with.

Lilith herself said it: she dedicated her entire life to the Coven. What she wanted was to be the best. And she almost was...except for her own sister. Someone who lived with her, annoyed her at home, bested her at school. Someone she could never beat, no matter how hard she worked. And her sister was younger than her, too! How insulting was that? Lilith wanted to be the best, and someone in her exact situation did better than her.

Lilith was insecure. And it consumed her.

But why? Why does insecurity consume her? I mean, no one can be motivated by insecurity forever. Well, not unless someone conditions it into you.

The lovely thing about the capitalist system is the morals it teaches you. Things like: “You’re only useful if you’re the best.” “Being school smart makes you smart, while being social smart or sports smart or creative smart or fandom smart is worthless.” “Your worth can be quantified by numbers and is based off arbitrary measures like your income or your grades.” Things that can and will drive us crazy if we let ourselves believe them.

And it did drive Lilith crazy. She got so twisted by a society that said being good at magic is her only worth. Look, Lilith used to be good at things, probably. She was good at sports. At times, she slips up and does an okay job of being Eda’s sister. She has a powerful presence when she’s in a room. And she’s wicked good at manipulating people.

But that didn’t matter. Lilith bought into the lies. She let herself believe that magical skill was the only way to measure her worth. And since she needed to be the best, she hurt Eda for it.

The beautiful thing is, Eda didn’t buy that. "It’s my power, kid. And before you showed up, I spent my whole life wasting it.” Is what Eda said, as she used up the last of her power, the last of her life, to save Luz. In her final moments, she proved that she’s not like them. She’s stronger than them.

None of this matters. Not magical prowess. Not the hierarchy. Not the promise of joining the Coven and having more power than anyone else.

The only thing that matters to Eda is her family. Her real family. Her Luz, King, and Hooty. And by extension, Willow, Gus, and Amity. Those are Eda’s real reason for fighting, for dying: to protect them. Look, there’s no way she would’ve come out of that fight alive. She has a family, and her love for them is stronger than greed or jealousy or capitalism.

Lilith never understood that. She thought the water of the womb was thicker than the blood of the covenant. Or, that the water of the womb and the blood of the covenant are stronger than the bonds of found family. She thought it didn’t matter if Eda loved, her, only if the Emperor loved her. Fucking bitch.

And now, a little something to worry about, before we go. Amity Blight. The girl who wanted to join the Emperor’s Coven more than anything, who dedicated her whole life to doing well in school, to being the best, to being perfect.

And then she met Luz. She fell for Luz. Now she’s in a tricky place, where habit and conditioning want her to join the Emperor’s Coven, but her heart wants her to do the impossible and destroy capitalism.

She wasn’t in this episode. Funny that being injured and unable to work ended up saving her from watching her future mother-in-law die. So she bought some time.

But Luz’s true mom is dead. This is the second mom she has lost, and she’s only fourteen. As powerful as King and Hooty are, Luz needs Amity. Luz needs Amity to support her and help her get back her mom.

So Amity has to make a choice. Fear and insecurity, or love and a high chance of death?

She’ll probably choose death. Because that’s the message that this family-friendly show is giving us kids. Fuck capitalism. All you need in life is to do what makes you happy and be with the ones you love.

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