#this has just traumatised me and sent me back YEARS

[hobnob2020]

Lucanis Romance

Spoilers so please don't read unless you've finished the game

Lucanis was always going to be my first romance and he was the reason I went from my initial choice of Shadow Dragon to becoming a Crow and I wasn't disappointed.

But the reason I'm writing this review is because again people are moaning about how "little or poorly done" his romance was.

So a few points I'd like to point out are as follows;

Firstly people can have their opinions but I would like to remind everyone that his talented writer was fired and then rewrites were done for the game so who knows what got changed last minute for his character.

Secondly, he has been imprisoned for an entire year, been tortured and possessed, essentially having his mind broken because he didn't want to submit.

Thirdly his city is on the very edge of being destroyed.

And lastly Rook tells him they were sent by his grandmother who he loves dearly only to find upon his return that shes dead. He can also see that there's something wrong with Illario someone he sees more of a brother but is fighting him every chance he gets in order to point him in the opposite direction lest he realises he's the traitor.

With his grandmother's death it leaves the uncertainty of who gets first Talon as its a position he never wanted thus making the Crows weak as there's no clear leadership.

So please forgive him for not jumping into Rooks bed straight away.

His romance is very slow and after the first 2 or 3 flirty prompts I got I did wonder if I went wrong because he was giving me nothing back.

Until we got to that scene in the pantry where he says she deserves better than his mess 🥵

Jumping towards the end of the game for a second he says that he wanted her but was too afraid to want her and it's clear when you express your interests in the previous scene he likes you, also if you visit him after he does trip over his words and says he wants, but can't.

His body language, the way he smiles, the voice, the animation of him looking at your lips when you touch his chest is just perfection only to pull away at the last second to clear his head because again he's traumatised and hasn't dealt with his inner demon, the self doubt and torture that swirls around his head.

Then we get to the heart of his personal quest, when the body of Zara reveals she was Illarios lover and it was his greed for First talon that lead him to be captured and aswell as his grandmother's 'death'.

Let's not forget he's also by this point nearly tried to kill Illario for getting in the way so again fears losing control and likely hurting Rook.

Moving onto possibly my favourite companion quest of the game we end up in the fade, inside Lucanis' mind with Spite. It's simply tragic how tortured he is inside his mind, the way he sees himself through the eyes of another especially his grandmother is so sad.

Illario is the antoganiser in his head, cruelly bringing up the history of the Dellemortes family and the massacre that wiped all but 3 people. By saying Lucanis will kill his family for a job he doesn't want just twists the situation to make it feel that Lucanis has always been tainted and that the Demon was already inside him but Rook just denys this by saying he's a professional assassin, that he's basically not a mindless killer and knows the real enemy, that his loved ones won't be hurt only the one responsible and that when he needs to do it she'll be there for him.

The romance prompt that comes after shows how vulnerable he is around her, asking her to leave him there so he doesn't risk losing her and then she basically mentions what I've written so far, about his fear of moving forward as an abominantion and hurting his family is worse than any of the torture and pain he went through; so again people just need to realise this man is so messed up and protective to the few people he has left in his life and doesn't want to hurt the one person desperately trying to help him.

After you make the decision on stopping Illario or saving Caterina where Spite and Lucanis agree to work together you get that wonderful awkward moment where the two of them are just standing silently infront of Viago and Teia which is hilarious if you play as a crow because I imagine Viago is tired of Rooks weird shit by this point 😂

I like the fact that she doesn't speak of Spite or Lucanis' fears, that what they've just experienced is for them only.

Their commitment scene is really sweet but I wish it had like an extra scene where they're sat at the dinner table and the other companions could see something had shifted between them, that they tease about feeling the love in the hazelnut tarte making the two of them bashful, you know just something a little extra but it's not the end of the world left as it is.

When they eventually crash Illarios party and find Caterina all of his fears are put to rest where she excitedly greets him, even going so far as to kiss his cheeks showing how much she loves and missed him.

When the fight occurs and he embraces Spite fully and fights off Illarios hold there's such a proud moment when you're watching him, because he has his grandmother back, Rook at his side and the Crow houses watching on as Illarios lies are exposed.

During the fight when Illario fights Rook he tells her she's chosen the wrong Dellemorte and if he does hit her Lucanis tells him he's going to pay, it's just the simple things like this that make me love Dragon age games.

When the fight is over and he asks if they should make an early exit and return home i was expecting a first kiss as it just seemed right with him saying he'll stay for her and put off the crows as long as he possibly can.

I definitely think he has one of the stronger romances towards the end of the game, when he says he'll kill every blighted creature and the gods that stand in her way and she says that she won't be thinking of that all day just made me smile.

Their actual sex scene is beautifully done too, the fact he kneels for her, the animation and responses are great, even the humorous option is really good and there's no doubt how much he loves her.

I think what people have to remember is he's terrified of losing control which is why he hides away in the pantry, he nearly kills Illario in a fit of rage and just can't face hurting Rook which is why after the near kiss he says he wants her but can't.

It's been confirmed that Spite is obsessed with Rook so you can only imagine the inner battle and what he says about Rook on a daily basis, also the fact he can't control the wings of Spite so having them during their sex scene just shows how much she means to both of them.

I am gutted about the recent art released and that we missed out on the kiss in the rain, the gondola and sex scene in the pool but this is why fanciction exists.

I think his VA did a wonderful job and he's definitely my favourite and most interesting companion.

*I'm not going to comment on his other romance because saying anything negative about her triggers people which is just insane, I don't care that characters pair off and I don't find their banter particularly flirty but it should of happened once Rook hadn't committed to either of them just like Fenris and Isabella did which wouldn't have annoyed so many people, but that's an easy fix. Just don't bring them along together 😂*

[ninihowlter]

I CANT DEAL W HIS ASS

[riongeee]

Hearr me outtt

Sebek (After malleus OB(that ended vry badly)) goes back in time, BUT not at the start of the year. He goes back in time as a child (4-8 y/o).

Like, he regains his memories thru a dream, he wakes up screaming and crying. His family js thinks that he had a nightmare or smth.

Now, he's trying to better himself. He's studying rlly hard (particularly abt overblots), and trys to be nicer to his father.

When he gets into NRC, he expects to get into diasomnia. Instead he's sorted somewhere else,

What dorm do u think he would end up in?? I was thinking ab this for a while,but i cant rlly decide..

Pls bestow upon me your divine wisdom, oh wise one 🙏🙏

Me + dorm swapping Sebek is basically my whole thing now (I am not complaining >:D)

So, assuming this, Sebek has gone through some absolutely traumatising stuff before being stuffed into his child body. Perhaps the reason he went back in time is actually because either he or Malleus die. (Malleus because maybe it caused a huge burst of magic...enough to send Sebek back)

So 6 year old Sebek wakes up absolutely in shambles, he watched his whole life play out and end.

Because of Sebek and his personality, I think he'd blame himself, maybe for not being strong or smart enough to protect Malleus. So he throws himself into studying, improving himself. His parents are worried about him but Sebek just drives himself into the ground studying and training in an endless loop.

Eventually, it gets to the point he is physically and mentally exhausted, maybe Sebeks dad thinks this is a result of the bullying he received for being half fae and just breaks down in front of Sebek. He thinks it's his fault his baby is hurting himself. This leads to Sebek seeing how hurt his family are by Sebeks self destructive behaviour and he breaks down in tears too. In his past life one of his main regrets was how he treated his father so he seeks to remedy it in this life.

He then decides to bring the whole family closer. Although his grandfather wasn't the nicest he still cared for Sebek and Sebek remembered that. When nobody else in his family understood Sebeks personality, Baul understood. So he doesn't want to die and leave his family on strained terms like in the last life.

Atleast if he dies again, they'll have eachother.

So through, some hard work , Sebek brings the family closer, he still has little to no friends, as unlike the last life he has still not been sent to Lillia for training(Sebek dreads seeing Diasomnia again).

When one day Baul asks if Sebek wants to train with a person Baul knows, he almost says yes before hesitating, he had never been as close to them as they were with eachother, so, if in this life he watched from afar..... maybe things would go better? (He ignores the way his hands tremble at the thought of seeing Malleus again, he nearly envisions the sound of tearing flesh before snapping back into reality).

So Sebek continues his efforts, he studies and trains like a man possessed.

When the day comes for his sorting ceremony Sebek doesn't look up until his name is called.

He doesn't look back (perhaps if he did he'd see Lillias anguished face, deapite not knowing the first year he feels as if he does)

So Sebek steps towards the mirror. Knowing.

"Savanaclaw!"

His eyes widen.

>:)

Okay so a few explanations of some of the details.

I'm rolling with the idea that Malleus died while overblotting and the sheer amount of magic reversed time.

Only Sebek fully remembered what happened (for now...) whilst others may feel deja vu or get flashbacks. Which is why Lillia feels something at seeing Sebek despite technically not meeting him. (For max angst potential everyone else slowly regain their memories and start to investigate why Sebek is so different)

Also Savanaclaw because it is the dorm of persistence and Sebek is persistent on improving and avoiding the outcome he saw. (Could also work with other dorms but I think Savanaclaw or Pomefiore are best for this).

Might expand on this but idk

[catboymoments]

Different anon here. I understand people being upset and angry, but I was in Ukraine when the war started. My family were lucky enough to get out but so many others weren't, we spent so long worrying, working on humanitarian efforts and such, and we still make sure now to donate to other causes such as Gaza.

But although I myself came away with it with open eyes and a strong desire to help, my brother wasn't the same. He's quite a bit younger and was so deeply traumatised from everything we all saw. He had nightmares for months after, and always acted as if the war could crawl into Germany (where we stayed for over a year before we moved to the US to be with family).

He refused to put his backpack away at school and always kept it in arm's reach, he hoarded snacks under his mattress, he all but shut down at school and resisted learning German but at the same time shied away from other Ukrainian students because he couldn't hear the war stories without a panic. And he insisted on waiting by the mailbox, outside, backpack at the ready waiting for news from his old best friend (which we still haven't really gotten; we hope they made it to another country and just haven't wanted to stay in touch).

When we made it to America, we got him some help thanks to charity and put more into teaching him English and he's starting to recover, making friends at his newest school and finally feeling safe. All this Gaza stuff is not helping though. He's fourteen now and his classmates at high school keep sending him things on Instagram or Discord or text messages about the war with no warning or spoiler tags. Many times my parents have taken his phone away, but he has a couple other friends from Ukraine and Germany he needs to stay in contact with so they can't bear to do it for long. He can't block them either because apparently fourteen year olds take it as an affront on the friendship, and often we are late due to having one car between the four of us to attend different places (my parents and I to our jobs, my brother to school) and by far the easiest way to get that cleared is having him message someone in the same class to tell the teacher in advance if we're stuck in traffic.

Some bots have caught wind and have sent some pretty horrific things, to the point where even a simple fundraiser post (often with rightful messages of desperation) can wind him all the way back.

I understand both perspectives, as someone who survived a war zone and as someone who has seen the many different ways it impacts people. It's trauma, plain and simple. And during these times, especially with the election, people need to engage with the world safely. My brother likes your Owl House content and I make sure to send it to him by message so that that's all he sees, but not everyone has something like that.

Of course, it's up to you. Making this blog safer for Gazans with firsthand trauma is probably going to do more long-term good than sparing others secondhand trauma. I'm just asking you to consider all angles here.

Sorry if I have mixed up everything, English is my third language and I asked my mom to proof it (whose English is a lot stronger as she has a talkative job these days, but is still not her mother tounge).

Oh I didn’t. Think of it from this perspective. Thank you for telling me this, I was wrong and I’m sorry.

[cursedonyx]

The Bars Between Us

Sebastian Sallow x MC

Oneshot AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and MC (named Dracaena in this fic because it’s my current favourite name) trying to keep his secrets. Ominis and Dracaena spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeed. Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, but a little TLC from the woman he has always loved sets him back on track.

Word Count – 8.6k

Warnings – Angst, traumatised Sebastian, aftermath of Azkaban, engaged Ominis/MC, Ominis approves MC sleeping with Seb, seriously Seb’s been through the wringer, Azkaban is horrible, nursing Seb back to health, smut (MDNI), handjob M!receiving, oral M!receiving, sub!Sebastian, MC feels a bit guilty bc her boy is a wreck

Six years.

It had been six years since the terrible events of fifth year, and six years since Sebastian had stood trial for the murder of Solomon Sallow. Six years since he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Six years since Dracaena and Ominis had scrambled to find out who had condemned him, and vowed to make it right.

No sooner had they left Hogwarts, not able to fully appreciate the finality of riding the little boats across the Black Lake towards Hogsmeade station, leaving behind the place in which they had matured into adults, leaving behind the wonders and horrors in equal parts, that they both signed up for jobs at the Ministry for Magic, working in Magical Law Enforcement, searching for some kind of loophole, some kind of law, some kind of anything that would get their best friend released from hell.

After four agonising years, they managed it. Together, pouring over paperwork by candlelight until the small hours for months, they built a solid defence, their unwavering logic and staunch reasoning standing up to the needlepoint scrutiny of the powers that be. Of course, they knew it was a long shot all the same. The Ministry simply didn’t care about extenuating circumstances, considering those incarcerated to be less than human, doomed to serve their time no matter what new evidence came to light.

Ominis had to throw his weight around a bit. Subtle, hissed threats, muttered warnings and an overuse of his famous glare and family name eventually frightened enough people to get those with the ability to make changes to listen. And then Dracaena came in, her fame and her charm the honey to Ominis’ salt, making promises she never intended to keep, assuring those too nervous to make the jump to support them, doing favours that left an unsavoury taste in the back of her throat.

All of it proved worth it in the end. Sebastian’s release papers were handed over, and Dracaena packed a small bag.

“I’ll be a week,” she said to Ominis. “They want him to stay in a sort of halfway house for a while, to make sure he’s not going to go mental and start hexing everyone in sight. Personally, I’m just glad he’s going to get some time to start readjusting to life outside.” She tilted her head. “Won’t you come with me?”

“Best not,” Ominis said, for the fiftieth time, his patience unending. “I don’t want to overwhelm him, and you’ve always known how to calm him down when he gets too… well.”

She chuckled lightly. “That’s assuming he’s not a complete wreck. I hope it’s not affected him too badly.”

“Dove… he’s going to be very different to what we remember,” Ominis replied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she folded her clothes. “He won’t be the Sebastian we knew.”

“I know,” she raised her hand to his, smiling as he looped his other arm around her belly and held her tight. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I hope he’s forgiven us for not doing more sooner.”

“He’ll have forgiven you,” Ominis said. “He always had a soft spot for you. I rather expect, even after all this time, that he’s still in love with you.”

Dracaena kept her silence. She and Ominis had naturally fallen together towards the end of their sixth year of Hogwarts, their shared experiences and pain leading them to comfort one another, she taking Sebastian and Anne’s place as Ominis’ refuge from his family, moving in together once they’d left the school. In a small way, she was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to propose, presenting her with an elegant ring of emerald and diamond set in white gold six months ago. She’d accepted gladly, though a tiny part of her mourned what that meant for Sebastian.

She loved Ominis with all her heart and more. She adored his gentleness, his respect, his kindness and consideration. She admired his steel, the restrained fury with which he dealt with their enemies, both inside and outside of work, his searing wit and boundless intelligence. She relished his talent as a wizard, and fell in love with him over and over again with each morning they woke beside each other, still spent from their passions, safe in each other’s arms.

But she still loved Sebastian.

Ominis tightened his arm around her.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how you felt about him. I know how you feel. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I would have expected the pair of you to be married by now.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “Dracaena… he’s my best friend. I want him to stay with us. We have the room, and he’d be safer than if he was just left to try and survive by himself after all he will have been through. I know you and him well enough to know you’re drawn to each other.”

“But I’m yours,” she whispered, moving his hand to brush over her ring. “Remember?”

He shrugged. “I know. I trust you. I know that if you said nothing would happen between you, I would believe you because it would be true. But you’d be unhappy. You both would. I know you’re not going to leave me for him, Dracaena, but I know you also make each other happy. He’s going to need all the love and support he can get once he’s out. I’d hope that you can give that to him.”

She tilted her head. “Ominis… are you giving me permission to… play away with your best friend?”

He chuckled. “Don’t cheapen it,” his elegant fingers found her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her full. “I’m telling you that if you two happen to come together again, I support it. Didn’t you once tell me you’d have liked it if you could have had us both?”

“I was drunk!” she protested, giggling as he dug his fingers into her ribs, ticking her gently. “You can’t use that against me!”

“I can and will,” he laughed, holding her tight. “I mean it, Dracaena. I don’t mind at all, so long as it’s only him. He’s my brother as far as I’m concerned, and I trust you both.”

“You might regret it,” Dracaena warned.

“If I do, we’ll talk about it, and find a way to resolve it,” he said, releasing her at last. “Go on now, you need to get to the dock. Send me an owl once he’s settled.”

“I will.”

He brushed a hand over her cheek. “See you in a week. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

_.-~*~-._

The sky was a stormy grey, and the waves below were similarly sullen. They crashed against the side of the boat, sending salty sprays onto the deck as if it was their mission to knock the vessel off course.

Dracaena sat between two stern faced Aurors, her hands folded in her lap. She’d left her bag at the halfway house, a modest, three-roomed bungalow surrounded by similar buildings, grey bricked and dour looking. She had perched on one of the rickety chairs by the small, circular dining table as one of the Aurors explained to her that Sebastian would be under careful watch for the first year following his release, and any missteps would see him sent right back to Azkaban.

She’d only half listened as he went over an itemised list for what she should do during her week’s stay at the halfway house, pinning a sheet of parchment to the wall with the details. She was only to feed him small meals, as he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything more. Nothing rich, nothing too fatty, and no alcohol. She’d frowned, asking why.

“Because the prisoners don’t tend to eat,” he’d said, gruffly. “The dementors have to force them in order to keep them alive.”

She’d shivered then, and she shivered now, remembering. They weren’t allowed to leave the halfway house, except for at specific times each day to walk around the complex for ten minutes at a time, to build up his strength. She had to write a detailed report at the end of each day to give to the Aurors, describing their conversations and activities. She was sternly warned that if she didn’t, there would be Trouble. Said Trouble was left unspecified, and she didn’t have the heart to ask.

Dracaena shifted, watching as something huge, angular and black began to rise from the waves, impossibly tall, impossibly wide, made entirely of stone. Only a few small windows lay in the surface, like knife wounds in flesh. Her hands tightened in her lap as dread began to seep under her skin, a visceral fear prickling over her neck and shoulders. She was only going to be there for a short time, to bring her best friend home. She couldn’t imagine how Sebastian would have felt, seeing that pillar of misery approach, believing he would never leave.

She loosed a soft breath, eyeing the distant, tattered black shapes swooping around outside it. He would leave. He would leave with her, and everything would be alright.

The boat approached a yawning cavern at the base of the prison, the Aurors casting a Patronus each, a mouse and a raven. There was a dock in the cavern, the blackness chased away by sparsely placed sconces in the damp, glistening walls. Standing there waiting was a hunched little man, balding on top with buck teeth and a sickly smile. He had a Patronus as well, something that looked like a cross between an ailing puppy and a wall-eyed rat.

Dracaena stepped off the boat, shivering, the feeling of dread still creeping under her clothes and caressing her skin. She set her jaw, drew her wand, and cast a Patronus of her own.

An elegant panther touched its paws to the stone, gazing around imperiously as the Aurors and the little man raised their brows, the dread vanishing from her chest as if it had never been. From the shadows around the walls, several rattling voices gurgled and hissed, as if angry.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“Cell 506,” the little man said, rubbing his hands together with a grin that seemed entirely too cheerful for such a place. “Follow me, my dear.”

The patronuses cast silvery blue light on the walls as they ascended a surprisingly wide staircase, their footsteps echoing. Reaching the first floor, the little man produced a set of keys and unlocked a heavy, barred door.

“No need for magic here,” he cackled. “No one’s got their wands, have they?”

They strode into a cell block, and Dracaena recoiled. The scent of filth was overwhelming, but it was the sounds that chilled her. Her Patronus flickered, moving to stand beside her as desperate sobs filled her ears, tortured cries and garbled, gibbering wails singing in a hellish harmony that echoed off the walls.

The sounds died down as the little man and the Aurors encouraged her on, and though she tried to face forward, to ignore the figures in the cells, she couldn’t help but notice how they scrambled towards the bars, their bony, wasted hands reaching through, stretching for the patronuses as the tattered shadows of the dementors fled their presence. The screams began again as they passed, somehow more agonised than before.

They repeated this four more times, ascending rapidly narrowing staircases and emerging into a new cell block, climbing higher and higher, taunting the prisoners with the promise of relief from their misery in their passing. With each step, Dracaena’s heart beat just a little faster, her grip on her wand increasing, the hackles on her panther Patronus rising as she bared her teeth.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, her palms were sweating. How different would he be? Would the Sebastian she knew and loved still be there, somewhere? Would his eyes still sparkle with the mischief he was so adept at making, at once sliding into fury when he was challenged, and softening whenever he looked at her? She knew he’d be different. He’d look different. He’d act different. But she had to believe he was still there.

No matter her provisions, in the following years, Dracaena didn’t think there was anything on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw when she finally reached Sebastian’s cell.

Unlike so many of the other prisoners, he wasn’t screaming or crying, and he didn’t rush to the bars to feel the passing warmth of the patronuses. He huddled by the wall, next to a narrow mattress and ratty blanket laid directly on the floor. His hair was halfway down to his elbows, thick and matted, almost black with grime. He was dressed as they all were, in a filthy pair of striped trousers and shirt, and they hung loose on his frame. His head was on his arms, resting on his knees, drawn to his chest. The hand she could see was almost skeletal, every inch of boyish puppy fat stripped from his body. His nails were bitten to the quick and filthy, as were his bare feet.

Dracaena raised a hand to the bars, her heart shattering as she took him in, watching as he shivered.

“See, he’s one of the tough ones,” the little man said, with a chuckle. “Just keeps to himself, terribly well behaved. Shame to see him go, really.”

Dracaena tightened her grip on her wand to the point she thought it might snap. She turned to the little man, letting her expression say everything she dared not voice, for if she opened her mouth, she would likely find herself in a cell of her own. The little man seemed to understand, because his sick grin slipped, and he hurried to unlock the cell door. She barged him out the way before he’d even pulled the key from the lock, striding inside and falling to her knees before the broken man she had loved.

“Sebastian?” she whispered, her Patronus sitting in front of the door and glowering. He didn’t move. “Sebastian, it’s time to go.”

He stirred, his fingers tightening on his sleeve. She reached out, brushing a hand over his arm, and he flinched.

“Bassy,” she whispered, the pet name she’d given him both foreign and familiar on her tongue. He tensed, finally raising his head. His chocolate eyes, once so full of life, were dull and defeated above hollow cheeks and a beard that reached his collar. Even so he was familiar to her, the rampant freckles scattering his skin like constellations a siren call to their bond. He blinked, focusing, and didn’t say a word.

“Bassy, it’s time to go,” she said again, cupping his cheek, sliding her thumb over the protruding bone, her fingers winding into the thatch of hair at the back of his neck. He flinched away again, his expression becoming fearful, his eyes darting around the cell.

“Happens sometimes,” the little man said sullenly from beyond the bars. “They forget who they are. Forget who they knew. He’s not said a word in five years, so don’t expect him to. He probably thinks this is some kind of joke.”

She shot another glare that could melt steel through the bars, then shifted her position, grasping Sebastian by the arms and standing, heaving him to his feet.

He came up with almost no resistance, and she staggered, almost flinging him into the air, horrified by how light he was. He made a small sound of muted alarm as he left the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, relaxing her grip. She grabbed for him again when he slumped, his legs refusing to support his weight. She glanced through the bars again as the Aurors stirred.

“We’ll have to drag him,” one said. “Prisoners sometimes forget how to walk, or they just don’t have the will.”

“You’re not dragging anybody,” she spat. She looped an arm around Sebastian’s back, bending to catch his legs, lifting him in her arms like a child. He tensed, then slumped, his head lolling against her shoulder. He was so light, so alarmingly fragile, as if he was made of parchment, ready to tear apart at the slightest movement. Her heart broke again, and her Patronus flickered as she cradled him. Without another word, she marched from the cell, heading for the doors, the other prisoners gibbering as she passed, begging her to take them too, to leave her Patronus, to kill them. She paid them no mind, focusing on holding Sebastian tight to her chest, his feet swinging, his breath rushing over her neck. His hands were folded on his stomach, and one of them slid to her, pinching the fabric of her cloak, then holding gently.

She held him all the way to the dock, refusing to release her grip as she settled back on the boat. She raised a hand to his hair, gently running over the back of his head. It left streaks of grime on her fingers, but she didn’t care. A deep, boiling anger simmered in her chest. Anger for what he’d been put through. Anger that anyone was forced to endure such a hellish place. But mostly, she was furious with herself for allowing this to happen, furious with Ominis for knowing what Azkaban was like, and letting him be taken anyway, the word of some unknown person sealing his fate.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent the next six years trying to find a way to free him. The damage had been done. She felt it in his trembling breath, in the way he held onto her cloak so gently, knowing in her bones that it was the tightest grip he could muster. She wrapped her arms around him more securely, resting her cheek against his forehead, whispering soft words of comfort as her collar grew sodden with his silent tears.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena carried Sebastian over the threshold of the halfway house in much the same way a groom carries his bride. She wasn’t blind to the imagery, and wondered if Ominis would do the same to her once they were married. Would he be able to navigate if his hands were full of her body and not his wand? Probably. He was astonishingly capable, to the point she often wondered if his blindness really was total, like he said. Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him that aided him. It would certainly go a long way to explain how he always seemed to know everything, even things he shouldn’t know.

She kicked the door shut in the faces of the Aurors that had accompanied them.

She eyed the living room of the halfway house, the low sofa facing the kitchenette and dining table. Through one of the doors was a little bedroom, and through the other was a tiny, cramped bathroom. It was towards this that she headed, conjuring a low seat, in which she deposited Sebastian. He was unresponsive as she stood back with a light sigh, gazing down at him and eyeing the stains left on her robes.

She pulled off her cloak and overrobes, standing before him in a simple pair of trousers and vest top, tossing her robes through the still open door, before kneeling down in front of him.

“First order of business,” she said, softly. “We’re here for a week, Bassy. We’ve got a to-do list, but I’ll take care of it as best I can. I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that for me?”

His throat worked a moment, then he gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Dracaena loosed a soft breath. At least he was listening to her.

“I think you’d feel a lot better after a shower,” she said, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Would you like that?”

Another miniscule nod.

“Can you take care of that, or would you like some help?”

No response to that. She tilted her head, waiting, her hands on his knees, until he glanced at her, his eyes lighting on hers and flicking away again like a moth fluttering about a lantern. They were still dull and hollow, curtained by the matted strands of his hair. She reached up and brushed a hand over it.

“I think we need to give you a haircut,” she said. “I can’t think of a single brush that can save it, I’m afraid, it's too tangled. Can I cut your hair for you? And maybe this?” she ran her hand over the wild beard. “Much as I think a beard suits you, it could do with a trim, don’t you think?”

A tiny nod, ever so slightly more vigorous than the last. She smiled, and reached behind her, fumbling in the cabinet for scissors.

“I’ll save what I can,” she said, taking a ropey strand of his hair between her fingers. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy being bald.”

A miniscule exhalation. She tilted her head.

“Was that a laugh, darling?”

He didn’t answer, but leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She set the scissors aside a moment and wrapped her arms around his back, alarmed to feel the bones of his spine poking through his skin. She held him gently until his arms rose, gripping the back of her top with a featherlight touch. He shivered, his breath trembling on the exhale. She held him tighter, pressing her cheek to his.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, circling her hand over his back. “You’re safe, Bassy. You’re out. You’re not going back there, okay? Once we’ve done what we have to here, you’re going to come and live with me and Ominis. We’ll look after you.”

She felt his jaw clench a moment, then he sat back, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. He held her gaze a long moment, before it dropped to her hands, resting on his knees again. He touched her ring, his skeletal fingers brushing over the emeralds and diamonds. He sighed, seemingly caving in on himself.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the rasp of his throat.

She could have cried, then. God only knew what he’d been thinking when he was trapped in that cell. Had he been hoping she’d come for him? That she’d have waited for him? Had he tortured himself with thoughts of other people getting close to her, loving her? Had he known on some level that she and Ominis would end up together, engaged, and soon to be married? Had he loved her as she loved him once, and wished it was he that slid the ring onto her finger?

What would he think if she told him of Ominis’ offer?

“Thank you,” she said. Best not to overload him. She should have taken her ring off, but it was too late for that now. She raised a hand to his hair again. “I… I’ll be honest, I’ve never done this before. It won’t be a brilliant job, but it’ll help.”

He gave another miniscule nod, and closed his eyes. She gazed at him a while longer, then picked up the scissors, sliding them through the matted tangle of his hair before closing them with a decisive snick.

_.-~*~-._

Shorn of his beard and most of his hair, Sebastian was beginning to look a little more like himself, though his face was terribly gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his jaw standing out above his brittle neck. Dracaena vanished the pile of hair with a flick of her wand, then reached over to the bathtub, turning on the shower and holding her hand in the stream until it warmed to a comfortable temperature.

“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked. “I can give you some privacy.”

He didn’t answer, his hollow gaze turned inward, slumping slightly in his chair. She took his chin and tilted his face to hers, waiting until his eyes focused. “Bassy, do you want me to help?”

He blinked, slowly, his gaze turning distant again. With a light sigh, Dracaena lowered her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly prying them open, one by one. At each, she paused, looking at him until he gave a tiny nod. She withheld a wince with some difficulty as she gently pulled it from his shoulders, able to see each rib through his skin, streaked with grime. Her heart broke a third time.

“Can you stand?” she asked, gently. “We should get these off too.” She touched the leg of his trousers. He didn’t answer, so she tucked her hands under his arms and rose, bringing him with her. He leaned against her, his arms rising to clutch at her back again as she nimbly undid the drawstring. The clothing crumpled straight to the floor, far too large for his frame. She averted her eyes, helping him step under the stream of warm water, lowering him to sit, and he drew his knees to his chest.

How many times in her fifth year had she wondered what he’d look like under his robes? Countless times, lying awake at night, or daydreaming in class. Now he was here it felt somehow wrong, like a violation to take the opportunity to drink in his form when he was so vulnerable. So she didn’t look, focusing on his face as his short hair plastered to his scalp, the water turning black as it streamed over his skin. She pressed a washcloth into his hands, and he held it, but made no further move.

“Come on darling,” she murmured. “Help me out a little bit?”

No response. With a soft smile, she picked up another washcloth and slid it over his back, applying light pressure to the more stubborn patches of dirt. Sebastian closed his eyes, resting his head on his crossed arms as she soaped his back, his grip on his own cloth tightening a little. And even though she resisted, scolding herself silently, Dracaena couldn’t help but look at him properly. Under the steadily vanishing grime, his back and shoulders were as freckled as his face, fading the further her eyes travelled down his spine and arms. He was a lot paler than she remembered, but then he’d gone from an outdoorsy, adventurous nerd to a prisoner in a cell, not a speck of natural light to be found. She’d have to make sure there was a decent spot in the garden for him to relax, once they were all home.

She nibbled her lip, glancing at his slender thighs, once thick. No freckles there. A few on his calves, none on his feet. She wrenched her gaze away before it strayed any further, and she slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back so she could get to his hair. He closed his eyes with a tiny sigh as she rubbed suds through the thick strands, massaging his scalp gently until she was sure every speck of dirt was gone. She pressed a hand to his collarbone.

“Sit up straight, darling,” she whispered. “I need to get to your chest.”

He acquiesced, leaning back until he overbalanced. Dracaena caught him with a startled yelp, an arm around his back, spluttering a little as her head and shoulders entered the shower stream. His legs stretched out as he slumped against her arm, his head turning to her shoulder, his eyes still closed. She caught her breath, blinking water out of her eyes.

“You alright?”

A tiny nod.

She took a breath, and keeping her gaze firmly fixed above his waistline, she moved the cloth over his torso, trying not to admire the fine hair dusting his chest, focusing on removing every speck of dirt she could see. She took her time, because at some point, she was going to have to try to convince him, again, to help himself. There was only so far she could reasonably go when he was so out of it, despite what Ominis had said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look, or to touch… to taste. It wasn’t that she had any problems in taking care of Sebastian in whatever way he needed. It was that he was fresh out of Azkaban, barely four hours free, still confused and addled and traumatised and broken, and she couldn’t assume that he would want anything to do with her at all.

It was still difficult. She shifted, her arm around his back, propping him up as she gripped his shoulder, his head resting against hers, flipping her sodden hair out of her face, her top already soaked. She circled the cloth over his chest a final time, sliding it over his nipple, and he groaned.

The sound was so soft that she thought for a moment she’d imagined it. She paused, swallowed, and repeated the movement. He sighed, tucking his head more firmly against her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a stirring.

Dracaena closed her eyes, willing herself to cool the heat rising from under her collar. She was his friend, that was all, helping him after a terrible ordeal. She couldn’t possibly take advantage of him, not now, not when he was vulnerable and needed her to help him. He wasn’t in his right mind. She had to be strong for them both. In time, perhaps she could, but…

She steeled herself and returned to the job at hand, sliding a bar of soap over his stomach and following it with the cloth. The water ran clear over his body, though it still pooled brown and grimy by his feet and legs, and-

She wrenched her eyes back up, glaring at the pale tiles of the bathroom wall.

“You going to give me a hand?” she asked. “I’m getting soaked.”

Again, no response. He slumped against her, his breathing perhaps a little quicker than before. Hardening herself, Dracaena took the washcloth to his thighs, scrubbing perhaps a little firmer than she had before, tucking a hand under his knee to bring his leg closer so she could still support him. Her back was beginning to ache, bent over the bath as she was, but she ignored the dull fire spreading under her shoulder blades, focusing on her task. All the same, she couldn’t help but notice how he shifted, widening his legs with another soft sigh, his hand sliding over her back to grip at her shoulder as she worked. She slid the cloth over the inside of his thigh, and a soft, almost strangled whimper passed his lips as he tilted towards her.

Dracaena had endured many trials in her life. Stopping a goblin rebellion, defeating a power-crazed, dragon-transformed lunatic set on killing her, as well as countless attacks from poachers and Ashwinders, defeating a powerful Dark Wizard in single combat and more. So much more. Still, if anyone had asked her in the later years what she found the most difficult trial of all, she would have said in a heartbeat that ignoring Sebastian’s throbbing erection as she washed him was among the top three.

She did steal a glance or five. She was only human, after all. And by God, he was beautiful. Not quite as long as Ominis, but thicker, a darker shade, the lush pink of Ominis’ love more a light burgundy with Sebastian, and the way he rested against his stomach, his toes curling as the shower stream rushed over him was more intoxicating than heroin. There was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her hand around his length and draw him to the edge of bliss, to let him revel in the delights so long denied him, to hear him moan and whimper her name…

Again, Ominis’ assurances that he was not only fine with her playing away with Sebastian, but that he expected it ran through her mind. She loosed a soft breath as she moved the washcloth to his hips, his grip increasing on her arm as his breathing rushed past her ear. She set her jaw.

She couldn’t.

“I need to get some things ready,” she said, firmly. “Finish up, Bassy, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She waited until his grip on her arm loosened, helping him sit upright. It pained her to leave him alone, huddled and defenceless as she strode for the door, wringing water from her hair and drying it with a wave of her wand. But she had to. God and Merlin only knew what she would have done otherwise. He was too fresh, too vulnerable. How could she take advantage of him like that? How could she even think it?

Biting her lip, she settled at the small table and drew parchment and quill towards her, penning a short note.

My darling Ominis,

Sebastian is with me in the halfway house, and all things considered, he’s as well as he can be. I don’t want to alarm you, but he’s lost a lot of weight and isn’t very responsive, and I expect it will take some time before he’s better. You were right, he’s not as we remember, but I feel the old Sebastian is still there, somewhere.

I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to be home with you.

Dracaena.

She wanted to add another line, clarifying that Ominis had meant what he said, hoping he would change his mind, for if he demanded she remain solely his it would be easier to deny the stirrings she felt for Sebastian. But he wouldn’t deny her, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d almost been insistent.

She sealed the letter instead, opening the door and beckoning the owl perched nearby. It took the note in its beak and flew off, soon lost amongst the clouds. She took a breath, noting the dark figures leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings, the curtains twitching in windows. She made a face and retreated back inside. Christ, with the number of Aurors surrounding them, it was almost like Sebastian was a mass-murdering lunatic, not a broken man who had paid a price far dearer than the death of his horrible uncle warranted.

She tilted her head as the sounds of running water from the bathroom shut off. She waited as a shadow moved beyond the open door. It seemed that Sebastian could get about by himself if he needed to. That was good. She moved to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards and grimacing. Simple foods like porridge oats, rounds of dark bread and rice nestled beside tins of nondescript meat and vegetables huddled on the shelves. Dull fare for certain, and she wished she could use her Ancient Magic to conjure something more palatable, but it didn’t work that way. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, and there wasn’t a gram of sugar to be found.

She pulled a few items down and set about making a simple meal of white fish and rice with a side of green beans, careful not to make too much. He’d need time to adjust to eating real food again, and she had no idea what he’d been forced to eat behind bars.

Dracaena turned at a slight noise to find Sebastian standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning heavily against the frame, a towel around his waist. He gave her the beginnings of a tired, shy smile, only the corners of his mouth twitching. She left the saucepan and rushed to him.

“There’s clothes in the bedroom,” she said, leading him, an arm around his waist as he slumped against her. “We’ll have some dinner and get you settled for the night, yeah?”

He nodded, a firmer, more decisive action than before. Depositing him on the bed, which creaked, she ferreted around in the old wardrobe, bringing out a selection of shirts and trousers.

“Any preference, or are you not fussy?”

He blinked slowly, his eyes on her, seemingly indifferent about the clothes in her hands. With a shrug, she picked out a dark shirt and pair of trousers, leaving them on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, darling, if you need-”

His hand found hers, and she paused, turning to him, finding the corners of his eyes glimmering.

His lips parted, his throat working a moment before his voice found its way out, hushed and rasping.

“This… is real? You’re… really here?”

She knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers.

“Of course it’s real,” she whispered. “Bassy… Ominis and I have spent the last six years trying to find a way to free you. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, you didn’t deserve Azkaban. You’re coming home with us, and you’ll never go back, alright?”

He nodded again, a tiny smile touching his lips.

“You… got me out?”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “We had to bully a lot of people, rewrite some laws, and build a case. It took ages, Bassy, but we never gave up. We just wanted you home with us.”

“And…” he drew a breath, as if the act of speaking fatigued him beyond all reason. “Anne?”

Dracaena hesitated. She knew this would come up, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The reason for his fighting, the reason for his research, the reason for his mistake. How could she tell him that the curse that plagued his sister had taken her life three years ago?

It would break him. Destroy him in ways that Azkaban never could.

“Time enough for that later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “What’s important right now is getting you back on your feet, alright?”

It was a poor answer, and she knew it. Sebastian had never been one to let things lie, least of all something as important as his twin, whom she had buried with Ominis on a beautiful hill overlooking Feldcroft on a blossom-strewn spring morning, the pair of them shedding silent tears not just for the senseless loss of life, but because it meant everything Sebastian had sacrificed had been for nothing. But Sebastian didn’t question her further, merely nodding again and releasing her hands, reaching for the clothes.

Dracaena returned to the kitchen in time to put out a small fire that had started in the pan. She swore and pulled out another tin of white fish, vanishing the blackened mess with a wave of her wand.

Sebastian joined her at the small table not long after, clinging to the walls and countertops to support himself until she hurried over, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Though his first mouthful of food was hesitant, he soon fell upon it like a man starved, going so far as to toss his fork aside and eat with his hands. Once he was done, he held himself still, staring at his plate before the hollowness returned to his eyes, and he withdrew into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at nothing as Dracaena pushed her plate aside, her appetite quite gone.

“You should sleep,” she said, softly. She rose and took his hand, drawing him to his feet and tucking an arm around his waist, leading him to the bedroom. She sat him down, helping him unbutton his shirt, pausing as she reached the hilt of his trousers.

“There’s… there’s pyjamas and things in the wardrobe,” she said. “I can get them for you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer, his eyes dragging with tiredness, but his hand snared hers as she rose.

“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”

It took every ounce of her self-control to refuse.

“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You’re safe here, Bassy.”

His throat worked a moment, and he nodded, his hand sliding from her grip. Dracaena returned to the living room, setting the dinner things to wash and settling down on the sofa, conjuring a blanket and removing her clothes, lying down in just her underthings.

Ominis was on her mind as she settled to sleep, wishing he was here with her. She longed to feel his elegant arms around her, to reassure her, to comfort her as she wept silently for all the pain their dearest friend had endured.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena work to darkness and agonised, desperate screams.

She bolted from the sofa, her heart in her throat as she tore towards the sound, her mind conjuring horrors beyond mortal imagining as she burst into the bedroom. Sebastian was huddled in a corner, his arms splayed against the walls, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes wild as he tried to press himself through the brick and plaster, cowering away from something she couldn’t see.

“Sebastian!” she dashed over, grabbing for his shoulders, and he lashed out, howling, the side of his hand connecting with her temple, and she saw stars. Shaking herself, she grabbed for him again as he fought against her, yelling wordlessly. “Sebastian, it’s me! It’s alright! Calm down, please!”

He pushed back against the wall, soft, keening sounds wrenching from his throat, his eyes unseeing as she wrapped her arms around him, gasping comforting words into his ear. Eventually, his arms rose to encircle her, burying his face in her shoulder and weeping helplessly.

“It’s alright…” she murmured. “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing here that can hurt you. You’re safe.”

Sebastian just cried, clinging to her as she settled on his thighs, wishing she could hold him tighter, wishing she had more arms to wrap around him, to hold him more securely than she could, her hand circling over his back, the other wound into his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“It was just a nightmare, darling,” she murmured. “That’s all. Nothing more. You’re alright.”

It took a long time before Sebastian was able to calm down, his frightened sobs becoming whimpers, quietening to harsh breaths as he grasped at her back, shivering so hard she thought he could power a small house.

“What was it?” Dracaena asked, leaning back a little and cupping his face. “Darling, what did you see?”

He shook his head, his face tear-stained, pulling her back to him and resting his head against her shoulder again.

“I-I’m… sorry,” he managed.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I’ve no idea what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you. Tell me what you need.”

“Stay… with me,” he whimpered, holding her as tight as he could, though the strength of his arms was little more than strands of silk. “Please, Drac… Don’t leave me alone.”

With a muted nod, she tucked her hands under his arms again, levering him upright and guiding him to the bed, laying him down and tucking him in, before settling atop the covers. Sebastian turned over, his arm looping over her side.

“Will… you be… warm enough?” he whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Get some rest, love, I’ll be right here.”

“Come under,” he insisted, snuggling closer to her. “Please, Drac. I… I haven’t touched… another person in… years. I… I-I need to be close… to you.”

She hesitated, and Sebastian huddled up to her, his hands tight at her back, his skin fire against hers.

“Drac… I-I’m sorry, I-I know you’re… with Ominis, I don’t want… to upset you… or spoil that. I-I just need… to be close to you… please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Setting her jaw, Dracaena slid under the covers, wrapping her arms around him as he snuggled into her, his head against her collarbone, his body pressed to hers, almost as though he needed to become a part of her, to meld his flesh with hers, the pads of his fingers digging into her back.

She held him tight as he shivered, wishing she could take the pain he suffered and draw it into herself to shield him from the horrors he had endured. But she couldn’t. She could only lie there, holding him, stroking his hair as he pressed his face between her breasts, his skeletal frame wracked with shudders as guilt seared through every fibre of her being. She pulled him closer, and he groaned softly.

Dracaena couldn’t ignore the hardness that pressed against her, as much as she wanted to. Despite Ominis’ assurances, she needed to be strong, to show him she cared for Sebastian as more than just a vessel for carnal pleasure. She didn’t need that. As she was with Ominis, her own bliss mattered less than that of her partner, her delight being in when she brought him to the edge of paradise and sent him over, soaring on clouds of ecstasy. Would it be so wrong to gift the same to Sebastian, when her fiancée had condoned it?

Sebastian groaned softly, the tip of his erection nudging against the soft flesh of her abdomen, straining against his pyjamas. He nuzzled against her breasts, only the thin lace separating their skin. Dracaena drew a soft breath. No matter her concerns, perhaps this was what he needed. Had she not vowed to care for him, no matter what he needed? Her hand slid over his side, over the ridges of his ribs, gliding over the hollow between them and his hip, coming to rest on the sharp protrusion of bone. Sebastian whimpered softly, tilting his body towards her hand.

“Are you sure?” she breathed. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes…” he whispered, the word ragged, forged from a throat too unused to speaking. “Please…”

Still she hesitated, preferring to caress his body, worried that it would be too much for him, worried that no matter his assurances, Ominis would be hurt if she allowed herself to indulge, but Sebastian clung to her, the little strength he had poured into pulling her closer.

“Drac…” he whined softly, writhing against her as her hand sculpted over his chest and stomach. “Please, Drac… please, make me feel human again. Please, please touch me… please… I’ll do anything… I just… I need to feel alive again.”

And hell, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to make him feel good after everything he’d been through. She cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, pressing her lips to his with a softness akin to featherdown and satin. But he responded with fire and fury, his hand clamping against the back of her head, pressing her close as his lips worked magic over hers, scattering the last of her restraint as she wrenched him to her.

His breath came in sharp gasps as she pushed his clothing aside, her hand dipping down to caress the length of him. He tensed, a low moan rising from his throat as she graced her hand along him, before his grip at her back tightened, and he flexed his hips, thrusting into her palm, each movement accompanied by a gasp.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Make me feel good, make me feel right… make me feel real, Drac, please.”

Dracaena sealed her lips to his, drawing his breath into her and sending it back as heaven and light, her hand gliding along his throbbing length, her movements careful and controlled. Sebastian loosed a long, deep moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of his lungs, as if such a sound had been too long caged and finally set free. He sank back to the pillows, his limited strength seemingly spent, his eyes rolling back as his lashes fluttered, and she favoured him with kisses that peppered his face and chased over his neck, pausing only at his chest to swipe her tongue over his nipple. Sebastian groaned, his head rolling from side to side, one hand at her shoulder, the slight pressure increasing as she kissed down his taut stomach.

She could take him any way she wanted. She could pin him down and ravage him until he forgot his own name, she could bend him backward and bury his delicious cock in her throat, she could even turn him over and work a magic inside him that she was certain too few wizards had ever had the fortune to experience. But Dracaena bore down on her desires. Too much could break him. There would be months, years, perhaps, in which she could show him all the wonders she had learned since being with Ominis. She could show Ominis what she learned from Sebastian. She could learn from them both, together, but only if she treated them right.

Sebastian moaned like a starved whore when she flicked her tongue over the flushed head of his cock, his head pressing back into the pillows, his free hand grasping a fistful of the sheets as she slowly kissed along his length. She tucked a hand under his hips as she nuzzled the inside of his thighs, taking a moment to savour the desperate sounds pushed up from the depths of his being, the hand at her shoulder moving to the back of her head, his grip weak but insistent.

She couldn’t deny him any longer. Dracaena flattened her tongue against him and drew it slowly to the tip, already weeping with slick, crystal fluid, his ribs expanding and contracting with each rapid, short breath, his stomach hollowing as his hips bucked towards her. Her free hand found his, and she laced their fingers together as she took him into her mouth at last.

Seven years of longing couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of him against her lips, sliding over her tongue, invading her throat, the deliciousness of his fevered skin, the subtle, peppered tang of his love so similar and yet so different to the gentle salt and sugar of her Ominis. Sebastian’s back arched, his legs falling apart, his hand winding into her hair as his grip on her hand trembled, his thighs beginning to quiver as she flicked her tongue over the underside of his head, so sensitive after so many years of neglect, his voice a wordless song of ecstasy. She sealed her lips and drew them along his shaft, rewarded by a series of frantic moans that rose in fever and pitch. She wanted to pull back, to slow down, to make him wait, the dominant side of her fighting for control, but even she was not that cruel. Instead she bobbed her head faster and faster, lashing her tongue against him until he all but screamed, his hips rising from the bed as his back arched in a curve Fibonacci would be envious of, the beautiful, creamy thickness of his passion coating the cavern of her mouth.

Dracaena drained him of every drop as if her life depended on it, relishing the way he quivered and whined, his body tensing and relaxing with each new flick of her tongue until she raised her head at last, his pale, freckled skin flushed a gorgeous rose, an arm draped across his forehead. She slid up his body to lie beside him, brushing his hair back and wrapping her arms around him as he curled into her, panting.

“You okay?” she breathed, and he huffed a breathless laugh.

“If… if I’d have known… if I had to go… to Azkaban for that…” he nuzzled into her. “I’d have… gone… long ago.”

Dracaena chuckled softly, winding her hand through his hair as he relaxed against her.

“Drac,” he murmured. “I… should have… told you. Back then… I should have said…”

“Shh,” she whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”

“I know,” he replied, already drifting. “But… I should have said… I love you, Drac. I… I always have.”

She held him close.

“I love you too,” she breathed as he slipped into sleep. “Forever and always, I love you.”

Masterlist

Part 2

[trulycertain]

Been thinking about Astarion and his disapprovals when you help people. I think that yes, it's partly about envy that no-one was there to help him, but also about choice and control. (BG3 is always a game about autonomy, after all.)

So hear me out: back in the pre-turn days, Astarion was a magistrate. And if Baldur's Gate is anything like our medieval and Renaissance eras? He would've had to sign off on some pretty damn awful punishments. (Look at how he talks in the Justice test about how one has to punish thieves, and the Early Access bit where he talks about how killing Arabella would be too harsh for her stealing... they should've cut off her hand instead, the "proper" punishment for thieves and what he would've sentenced her to. He handed down an edict bad enough on a Gur tribe that he was essentially murdered in revenge.)

So how do you justify this to yourself? Well. He had money, societal power, and pretty privilege - this is almost certainly why Cazador chose him, too - and was kind of crap at empathy. And we know he likes seeing people get their comeuppance, likes seeing them taken down a peg. So he carefully ignores all the ways he's been lucky, all his privilege, and pretends he got there all by himself. He goes, "They had a choice. There's always a choice. They weren't helpless. They should have got a job, not begged, or stolen. They earned this. They brought it upon themselves. I'm simply serving them the consequences. Don't look at me like that." (I think this also ties into that later-retconned part about him giving prisoners to vampires. They're just criminals, after all, the same way the Gur are cutthroats and goblins are trash. They chose this life. They chose not to matter.)

So then he falls painfully from privilege, and gets the full horrible buffet of helplessness at Cazador's hands. He "resisted least" - see, surely there's a way to be punished less if you just do the right things, if you say the right things. The spawn who resist are doing it wrong. They made their choice. (He ignores that he's never the favoured spawn, ignores the pliers coming out again, and tells himself this.) If he can say that, he can pretend he still has control - and he so desperately wants control. His old self-justification has been turned up to eleven by the trauma of Cazador.

And suddenly... tadpole. He's free. He's also, as said, traumatised. He tells himself he's never going back to Cazador - look, Cazador can't compel him, look, he can walk in the sun, look, he's seducing Tav. He knows what he's doing! He's in control! The tadpole just being luck? He can't afford to think about that. Luck can change. Which means Cazador, and everything else, no matter what Astarion does or prepares or succeeds at, can happen again. He's helpless. But no. No. He's not some helpless damsel in distress - his first meeting with you was mocking the very thought!

But look. These people are showcasing their helplessness, almost proudly. And it's horrifying. And they keep saying familiar things - they're saying things he's said, in his more vulnerable moments. And Tav keeps saying things like, "They had no choice - we have to help them." But of course these people did. They got themselves into this situation, they can damn well help themselves out of it.

Because if they didn't have a choice... then neither did all the poor bastards he sent to their deaths or horrendous punishments over the years. Neither did those he brought to Cazador. Neither will all the spawn he's going to sacrifice in the ritual. Neither did he. All that separates them from him is luck, and luck can change. He's not in control. The thought is horrifying, so he pushes back against it. "They're weak, pathetic [...] We are better." Even as he approves of getting Wyll out of the pact and getting Mayrina away from the hag, even as he wants Lae'zel to "break her chains", because he feels a kinship with them. Even as, in a rawer moment, he tells the story about being locked in a crypt and tells Tav not to judge him for what he had to do for Cazador. If he stops to examine that too much, he'll panic. Cognitive dissonance is a hell of a drug. So move on, keep desperately snobbing.

He keeps trying that even when Tav meets his siblings and treats them with empathy (empathy that confuses and horrifies him). "They lured thousands to their deaths," he tells Tav. "I doubt Baldur's Gate will miss them." Or him. If they had control, he had control too. Life before turning taught him that if you're punished for what you've done, with cruelty or with death in a ritual, the punishment implies you still had a choice. He vacillates wildly between victim-blaming and talking about them as helpless unfortunate sacrifices while he tries to get his head round this. Even while, as Tav insists on saying, all that separates him from them is a tadpole. His victims are "criminals and brothel-goers," he tries desperately to tell Tav later - look, they deserved it!

The breakthrough is when he finally admits that the spawn are "the innocent, idiots, and the unlucky." Just like the others whose chains you've helped break, through the acts (his approval slowly starting to turn round on some of them, as this realisation creeps up on him and gains speed). Just like him - he was unlucky. (Which means he didn't deserve two hundred years of enslaved misery, and the people on this journey didn't deserve what happened to them, either. Which means he deserves to be treated with kindness, and so do others.) He can turn from that, and keep desperately scrabbling for control with the ritual (he can command others! He'll "never have to be afraid of anyone, ever again"), or he can stay a spawn, and accept that.

The kind of control he wants is an illusion. You can never truly control others without losing yourself in the process. All you can do to change people is decide whether to help - to reach out and hope they reach back. He's seen this time and time again with Tav, saw it even before he woke up in the ground. It's just that finally, he's stopped outrunning the thought and accepted it. Sometimes he still backslides, sometimes he still sees those who hurt him in the ones Tav wants to help, sometimes he's still rather an arse... but he's starting to see it now.

[harukamitsuki]

Ur soooo right abt Lance I think he just became the fandom’s darling because people saw inklings of insecurity and home sickness and zeroed in. He’s whump bait, but like without the more complicated issues tied into Shiro, Allura, and Keith’s problems. Prime projection material.

He has potential and I appreciate fandom’s ability to see that in him, but you’re so right that people have completely forgotten who he is in canon. He *could* have been better, but he wasn’t and it’s frustrating that people have lost sight of that because I think it would genuinely produce more interesting takes on his character and role in the story. As someone who genuinely wants him to be a better character it makes me want to eat dry wall.

Lance, first and foremost, is the everyday man. That's why he's so popular. He is far from a piloting prodigy, flirts with every pretty girl, funny and exaggerative, has a generic weapon like a rifle, is the first paladin to find his Lion, and has the most basic interal conflict there can be. Which is why everyone loves him.

Shiro? Shiro is confirmed gay, was hailed as the most promising pilot pre-canon, was officially the youngest man sent into space, but also had an illness for canon forgot about it, had major PTSD that left him unable to move in most cases, considered himself broken if his hallucinations said anything, and literally died. He's good leader matieral, able to handle a group of four wildly differing teenagers and only really let his emotions plan his course of action once (when Allura was kidnapped). This man is insanely skilled but also insanely traumatised.

Keith? Keith beat all of the records Shiro set and was known as a genius in the field, only held back by his defense mechanisms and rushing on ahead. He was abandoned by his mother when he was a toddle, then his father died implicitly before his eyes, he was then an orphan where he was probably passed around from family to family, ot feeding into his adandonment issues. He gained a friend in Shiro, the first person to reach out to him, and then lost him a few years later. He finally gets Shiro back, only for more shit to happen. He finds out his mom was Galra, and becomes sorry that he even existed because of this. Nobody on Voltron actually felt like his friend with Pidge constantly calling him a loner right after he lost Shiro, Hunk poking fun at his Galra genes, and Lance playing up this one-sidedly rivalry and taking everything he does as an attack on his person. He loses Shiro again and has to constantly give him up for the sake of Voltron and the universe. The only time he can focus on himself is when Shiro is back and he distants himself for the team's sake and they just let him go. He's so affected by grief before the story starts and it doesn't give him a break. Even so, he's so kind and genuine about everything. He becomes the Black Paladin, not because he had no choice. Maybe at first, but he grows into that role and becomes a great leader.

Pidge? Pidge is a prodigy and a genius, able to hack firm and software from alien planets. She can fly a jet just from reading instruction manuels and have little to no trouble. At the same time, lost her brother and father all at once. When she finally got some clue as to what happened to them, she was kicked out and banned from the Garrison. She disguised as a boy and snuck in, abandoning her dream of becoming a fighter pilot because navigation would teach her more about scanning space for extraterrestrial communication and lifeforms. When she finally has the chance to find her family, she has to constantly give them and clues she may find up because Volton and the universe come first.

Hunk? Hunk is just as much of a genius as Pidge, even if the writers forget, with him able to spot foul play on an alien ship easily. He's so kind and loving yet fierce with his protection and so strong when defending his friends. He keeps spirits high with his warming attitude, even if he's the most home sick of them all. He acts the most realistically to become a child soldier. Still, even when he's terrified, he pushes on so that people like Shay can find out what freedom is. Feel it for themselves. When they go back to Earth, Hunk is the only one who has to fight to get his parents back and earn his happy ending. He suffers throughout the series, but he's always looking at the greener side.

Allura and Coran? They lost their families and thejr entire species before canon ever began. They lost so much and have nothing but revenge fueling them. They have to deal with the fact that they slept through the massacre of the Altean species and woke up far too late. They have to deal with inexperienced humans who have no real attachment to the war. They have to deal with the fact that they are the last of the Alteans. And when it's finally revealed that there are more survivors, they have to deal with the fact that they're being farmed by Lotor/Honerva for their quintessence. Allura was so depressed in season eight after falling for Lotor then being used so thoroughly by him. Coran never got to say goodbye to Allura before she died. Despite this, they still fight with all they have, making sure nobody has to face the loss they've felt.

Lance? Um. He's insecure about his place in the team? I guess Veronica nearly died but she didn't so whatever... He did spend a lot of his time in the Garrison being compared to Keith... But he also spent time he could've used to better his skills to sneak out and flirt with girls or hit the arcade. Um... I guess...

Um. Yeah.

See, I always wonder how people see such angst potential in Lance, or even see him as an angsty character in general. They act as though he's suffered the most in canon when, in reality, he hasn't. He has the most generic troubles and, I guess, it's more relatable that way? People don't have to struggle to relate to PTSD or abandonment issues or identity issues or child soldiers or losing your entire species.

Insecurity? That's easy because everyone feels insecure.

Which is why Lance is so popular.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this isn't valid. It sucks to feel insecure and doubt your every move. The only difference is how common Lance's issues are compared to everyone else. Because Lance is generic as hell, people love to vent through him.

Lance has a stable friendship group, is constantly given everything he wants, and even manages to destroy what has been the canon ship over decades (Kallura). He invented a rivalry with Keith, who didn't even know who he was when they met. Because of that, people either ship them for the 'rivals to lovers' trope or hate Keith and act as though Keith was bullying him. Shiro doesn't take Lance's side often because Lance's ideas are dangerous or reckless. He still tries to let him down gently, making logical arguments (see: Shiro explaining that Red is fire-resistant so Keith has to go to the BOM HQ). Oh, but he's not on Lance's side so the fandom decides he's an awful leader. As if they know what a good leader is. They think a good leader is someone who gets distracted by a pretty girl and blames everyone but himself.

The only thing not given to Lance on a silver platter is Black. Thank God. But because he wasn't given Black when he was given everything else, fandom decides that DreamWorks hates Lance and decides to argue that Lance was always destined to be the Black Paladin. Ignoring how Black's colour scheme was LITERALLY ON KEITH'S CLOTHES.

So. Yeah. He definitely has potential before DreamWorks just started rewarding him for breathing. The insecurity he has could have been a good way to develop his character. He could have become someone outside of Keith or Shiro's shadow. He didn't need a love interest to prosper, as proven by the fact that he never prospered in canon.

His potential was there, just ignored because the writers were allergic to complex characters, even to the smallest degree.

(They should have gotten the writers for Race to the Edge to do Voltron ugh)

[bibibbon]

I think one huge problem (out of many) that MHA has is that Hori tries to have his cake and eat it too when it comes to the ethics of many of UA's decisions.

They face criticism for holding the Sports Festival so soon after the USJ Attack... but it's brushed off and everyone is gung-ho about the festival.

They face even more criticism for how disastrous the Forest Camp Training was and trying to turn UA into a boarding school in the aftermath... but all of the parents (except Inko) are a-okay with placing their kids in the care of a school that just underwent a PR crisis due to their inability to protect their students.

I've seen many fans defend UA and MHA by saying it's stupid to criticize UA for using child soldiers... but Hori himself writes that criticism into the narration. Hell, Aizawa is largely the hypocritical see you next tuesday man he is today because of a student dying during Work Studies. A lot of the UA faculty didn't even WANT to start Work Studies for the first years BECAUSE of how dangerous they could be... but then that gets ignored.

Hi @nutzgunray-lvt 👋

Agreed! One of Mha's problems is the confusing ethics and logic that is sometimes behind aspects of MHA, specifically UA.

I have talked about the outright horrible and even corrupt actions of UA in some of my previous posts here

However, you also bring up a lot of good points. Horikoshi does a lot of tell and don't show.

For example, UA has a big PR crisis after the training camp disaster yet all the parents allow their kids to return to school which is so weird because it genuinely got me thinking if these parents care for their kids.

Like, do these parents know what their kids went through from the usj arc to the war arc. Why did they just watch their kids go to war and not say or do anything to prevent their kids from doing that? Why did no one try to sue UA for what they let happen in the MVA arc? Does everyone's parents in this series suck?!?!

Actually, the media never criticised UA for hosting the Sports festival so soon, and the only reason UA chose to continue with the sports festival was to try and keep up the image that all was well which backfired on them so well and even nedzu comes to acknowledge this fact.

The whole thing of huge work study students being sent and that being approved by UA seemed so weird because a good chunk of those teachers that approved that had experienced their first loss and harsh reality of hero work during their work study so it made no sense for them to willingly accept the hpsc words on a whim without at least arguing back that these kids are too young for a work study.

Heck even the students previous work study aka the overhaul arc was incredibly dangerous and actually in the anime it there is evidence that ot traumatised the kids who took part as they described the fact that they couldn't sleep and stayed up all night some being haunted by sir nighteye's dying body whereas some worrying about their friends and etc. Someone could of and probably should of sued UA for allowing the children to take part. Where were Mirio's parents in all of this? You're son lost his quirk and ended up in the hospital yet you haven't sued?

[josephquinnswhore]

Don’t Listen - pedro pascal x bisexual! female reader

Summary: you receive hate from Pedro's fans because they think you're lying about your sexuality.

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warning: bullying, online harassment, self doubt.

Note: I know it’s not pride month yet but IM PROUD TO BE APART OF THE COMMUNITY EVERY MONTH. Love you all so much 🏳️‍🌈. In Australia we recently just celebrated Mardi Gras - it inspired me to write something as a bisexual woman.

Pedro loved this time of the year, he supported the lgbtqi+ community loud and proud, using his platform, he became a public voice for people in the community to support them. You had reposted Pedro’s own tweet and made your own, being apart of the community as a bisexual woman, you wanted you extend your support and acknowledge the struggles the community has faced and face to this day, while admiring how far things had come in the past few decades.

Pedro’s ‘fans’ decided this was outrageous and they simply couldn’t accept it, Twitter users in general were blasting you, because you posted the pride flag and the bisexual flag, owning the hurdles and self doubt you’d felt with over the years coming to terms with your sexuality. Your brain kept repeating the words you read.

“Bisexual? She’s definitely cheated on pedro.” No. I would never.

“It’s any wonder she could attract one gender let alone two.” Everyone is beautiful.

“Fakeclaiming being apart of the lgbtqi community isn’t cute girl. Check yourself!!!!” I would never lie about something so important.

“Fucking dirty slut. Leave pedro and save yourself the embarrassment.” Why are do people say such horrible things.

“How can pedro be with someone like this?” He loves me, right?

Pedro hadn’t been oblivious to the fact that you’d received hate comments over the years as a result of being his girlfriend, it was expected, and usually you handled things great. Communicated with Pedro and your skin grew thicker over time, their comments about you held no weight, your kindness became power for you, disgregarding them like water off a ducks back.

This however, triggered you immensely and sent your mind spiraling, your brain searching for the memories that had traumatised you as a teenager growing up in a strict and homophobic household. It was the one and only thing you truly struggled with in your life, and thought you overcame.

Pedro has never seen a moment where you doubted yourself or a decision you seemed confident making. He had never been in the position where he has seen you so broken down as you are now;

Pacing the lounge room, tears streaming down your cheeks, red and swollen under eyes, and body trembling, the culprit of your broken demeanour coming from your phone, your eyes encaptured in a trance, unable to stop reading.

Pedro rushed forward and pulled you into his body, your arms in an awkward position press against your chests folded inward. You leaned your head on his shoulder, the softness of his sweater inviting you into him, adding to the comfort he provided. His hand caressed the back of your head, stroking your hair, his fingertips lingering on your scalp causing a ticklish tingle that send a shiver down your neck.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” His hushed voice whispering in your ear made you weak, your heart soaring and overflowing with love as he swaddles you in his arms, protecting you.

“Look at me baby.” You comply, your lip is in a small pout as it wobbles, your eyes shining with a gloss that made your eye colour more enticing as they’re full of emotion, a redness covered your cheeks and top of your nose that begged to be kissed to relieve their anguish.

“No one knows your struggle. You are an incredible, brave and intelligent woman and I am so proud to call you my girlfriend.” Tears fall from your lash line and tickle your red cheeks momentarily before Pedro wipes the tear away with his thumb.

“Repeat it with me baby.” The sincerity in his voice has your chest constricting.

“I am incredible.” His brown eyes watch you as you repeat him.

“I am brave.” Your lips mimic the words and he cracks a small smile.

“I am intelligent.” Your lip stops wobbling through the last affirmation, your eyes drying, tear stains on your cheeks crusting.

“You deserve me, I deserve you.” Your voice repeats his words solidly, believing his reassurance.

“Take some breaths with me now baby okay? Just follow my lead.” Pedro inhales deeply, you inhale, your lungs expanding and holding the air for a few seconds before releasing the exhaling with him. Repeating the process, your mind becomes clear with clarity, the overwhelming anxiety dissipating as your usual levelness settles in your brain like a freshly dried blanket providing some comfort.

You open your eyes to Pedro staring down at you, observing you. His eyebrows are raised upward baring concern, lines in his forehead creasing at the action. “Thank you for bringing me back.” Your whisper barely reached his ears, your fingers tickling his face as you traced shapes along his patchy beard. “I’m always going to be here baby. You handled it incredibly, I’m so proud of you.” He leans his head down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead that lingers for a few seconds before parting. Brown eyes scanning your face, admiring the beauty of you, even after you had a breakdown. Pedro took you all, the good the bad, the fucking terrible. He would do it everyday if he had to. You were his girl, he would move mountains for you.

“I’m so lucky to have you. I love you Pedrito.” His nose comes down to nuzzle your own, foreheads pressed together lovingly in an effort of Pedro creating a safe space for you. “I love you baby, happy pride month.”

[collectorcookie]

YEAH, I think people forget that Subaru can be unapologetically mean (most of the time he doesn't do it to hurt people though) and it makes his dynamic with Natsume soo.. so nice.

You. You ask me this knowing fully well i won't shut up about subaru once i start talking. Well. Long post ahead.

But i agree. I think most people won't know much about him besides the kira-kira front he keeps putting out (unless they actually read some other trickstar stories). And i mean, yeah he's super adorable and cute and energetic but he's been through A LOT. And that energetic front is some sort of a weapon for him.

Like, he's not pretending to be happy, he IS MAKING himself happy despite all. Despite all his anger at the injustices that took away his father's life and his mother's happiness. Despite all the suffering he endured from the press that kept harassing him and his mom after his father's death. Despite the industry that covered up his father's death as a mere scandal rather than facing the uncomfortable truths and corruption within the industry. And the ungodly anxiety always surrounding him because all people think about when they see him is "son of a murderer"

And where does that lead subaru? Nowhere, really. All alone with no one beside him and nobody to guide him anymore, he just clings to memories of the past for guidance and tries to follow in the steps of his dad.

Which is i feel like why natsume reached out to subaru in the first place. Subaru is a natural genius but unfortunately a weirdo loner at a corrupted high school, natsume is also a weirdo loner genius at a corrupted high school. And unlike subaru, natsume is not traumatised and really likes helping people and making them happy (he will never admit to this, the tsundere tendencies are off the charts), so naturally he reaches out to subaru.

AND THEIR FIRST MEETING IN ROCKET START IS JUST AKSHDGSKAVVDKFKSJDV

it's like.... natsume starts talking to subaru, subaru automatically puts out this positive attitude regardless of who is talking with him, right. natsume cares about subaru but god forbid anyone knows that natsume has feelings and cares about people, so he starts talking aaaall mysterious wizard stuff. Subaru immediately notices something is up with natsume, he's not sure what, but this guy is not to be underestimated and there's something this guy knows about him, and he instantly drops his happy facade and gets serious. The more subaru talks to natsume the more he realizes that natsume...is actually really nice. And so he goes back to his positive attitude. And it pisses natsume off, tsuntsun is not pleased lmao.

But their first meeting is so wiiild to me. Like imagine meeting someone for the first time and immediately they metaphorically strip you off and leave you naked and vulnerable. Like literally your first conversation with this person. And then you do the exact same thing to them. And now you're friends???? Profit.

You know those videos of cats snuggling their sad owners and then their owner happily tries to kiss it and now suddenly the cat is pissed that the affection gets returned? Subanatsu. With natsume being the cat.

But yeah sometimes people forget that subaru has years upon years of anger that he never really had an outlet for and that's probably why he likes violence so much. Like the one thing that got changed in the anime is the fact that when anzu went to meet kiryu (famed strongest most violent guy in the whole school), the anime portrayed subaru going in with anzu to meet kiryu to protect her. This literally doesn't happen in the main story at all. Don't get me wrong, subaru IS overprotective of anzu, like everyone else in trickstar. But he didn't go with her, he sent her there on her own and then was like "ok, if anything happens to you, scream, and then i'll come in and ambush kiryu with a bat". I want you to imagine that. This dude was standing outside with a bat fully prepared and thrilled to hit the academy's strongest guy. He literally sent anzu as bait.

And then there's that one time he wanted to bomb the student council (jokingly). And that one time he took a hammer in front of rinne out pretending that he's going to hit him. And like. Every time he fights with hokuto. I genuinely have no idea how these two HAVEN'T physically hit each other yet considering that hokke also seems quite fond of violence. And also how unabashedly confrontative he was when he met eichi at the council for the first time. And please never forget the time he meets nagisa for the first time and immediately calls poor baby nagisa a bastard in a very happy tone.

Nagisa. You know. Godfather's legal successor. Leader of adam. Leader of eden. The top unit at that time. Subaru has Zero Fears. I love he

And honestly seeing how often natsume hits tsumugi for fun i can see why subanatsu get along

subaru 🤝violence🤝 natsume

[katherineholmes]

Many Caroline fans are always calling Elena a "bitch" for falling in love with Damon even though (according to them) Elena was aware of the sexual abuse Caroline suffered when she was under Damon's compulsion. However, I see virtually no Caroline fans complaining about how fucking selfish and cruel Caroline was to have sex with Klaus, even though he was responsible for making Elena's life a living hell. Not only did he kill Jenna in front of Elena, but he also tried to kill Jeremy, KILLED ELENA in the ritual, forced Isobel to kill herself in front of Elena for the sheer cruelty of doing so, and also made Tyler his slave and then killed Carol.

And in fact, Elena is ALSO another r@pe victim of Damon. I have nothing against Caroline, but her fans are extremely sexist and even misogynistic when it comes to Elena or even Bonnie.

Trigger Warning : Discussions of non-con, abuse.

Okay, first of all, hello, I got this ask such a long time back, and I'm really sorry about how long it has taken me answer it.

So, I wanna break this down before I answer this. All three of them - Bonnie, Caroline and Elena are victims of the vampires on the show. And pretty much everyone on the show has been wronged by someone or the other, even Klaus. All I'm trying to say is that the show itself pits a lot of victims, especially female victims, against each other. Mostly in order to prop up men, which is why I think that TVD is rooted in misogyny.

So I'm not going to blame either Caroline or Elena, but the message you sent is very compelling, and I want to dissect it a bit.

The 'Delena' of it

Let's get to the root of it - is Elena selfish for loving Damon? I recently saw a similar question on Reddit (two minutes of silence for the time I waste lurking on that site), and I honestly could not even read it, because of some of the takes I saw. But the root of it is this - Elena is traumatised teenager trying to hold on to every last person she has left.

I saw a meta about Elena having prolonged grief, and I agree, it feels as if her grief and her survivors guilt, is almost pathological. Within the show, she seeks one particular thing from her parter - immortality. Her entire family, with the exception of Jeremy, is dead. Of these she has seen her parents, Isobel and Jenna die in front of her. It is not only grief that she feels over these losses, it's also helpless, desperation, and a lot of trauma. In these situations, she essentially a person watching a train crash - on the sidelines, desperate to help them and save them, but helpless to do so.

Because of this trauma, she seeks to include people in her life that are immortal, and hard to kill. Be it Stefan, Damon, Caroline and Bonnie who's a powerful witch, as opposed to sending away Jeremy - someone who's mortal and can be hurt. She actively keeps an inner circle of supernatural beings around her because it's hard to lose them, and tries to distance the mortal ones - like Matt and April.

So it makes sense, that when she feels that she can't be with Stefan any longer, she is drawn towards Damon. Damon who takes the notion of death lightly, and plays with it, and has survived a lot. (A lot of this has to do with the sire bond, but we'll get into that some other day). But as it is, Elena feels safe with Damon because he is tough to kill, and it isn't selfish for anyone, let alone her, to seek security within a relationship. And to her, security is to not go through that grief or pain again.

Damon and his abuse of Caroline

Having said what I just did about Elena feeling secure with Damon, that's mainly according to her priorities and her specific trauma. Because yes, watching someone die, or being a spectator to trauma is also traumatic.

But, Damon isn't really safe, for anyone. Not even Elena. But he was particularly unsafe for Caroline. When we first see Damon meet Caroline, we see him charming her (because a seventeen year old girl is easy to charm), we see him flirting with her and going back to sleep with her. The scene then cuts to Damon biting Caroline and feeding on her - in the middle of sex. And she is traumatised, at which point he compels her and presumably this goes on. In the morning, she tries to run, he compels her again and then they go back out, behaving like a couple.

Now, the show runners themselves have never, ever acknowledged this as rape but it is rape. And we can see that, but Caroline never calls it rape - because she can't, and every time, Damon's abuse of Caroline is brought up, it is called abuse. It's said that Caroline is Damon's 'blood bag', she herself says that and calls herself his errand boy, but nobody ever calls it rape.

When Elena asks Stefan what Damon is doing to Caroline, he says that Damon is compelling her to feed on her. And we never see Elena and Caroline talking about it. So, in terms of the material that we have been presented with, we can conclude that Elena doesn't realise that Damon raped Caroline, because here's the thing, nobody on the show ever calls it rape. Not just in regards to Damon and Caroline, but in regards to Damon and Andy as well. Or Katherine and Stefan.

In a nutshell, TVD has a lot of consent issues, and straight up non-con, but it never addresses that, the narrative itself doesn't, and so we cannot hold a single character responsible for not seeing it. And if we can, then where is this energy when it comes to holding Stefan responsible for enabling Damon? Or Alaric - the grown man who hangs out with a rapist?

The 'Klaroline' of it

Klaus is the worst. He's a killer, he enjoys physically and psychologically torturing people, he literally enslaved his hybrids, then killed said hybrids just because they wanted to be free, killed his mother (who admittedly isn't mother of the year either), carted his siblings in boxes, and laughed when Finn expressed his trauma from being daggered for nine hundred years. Klaus is horrible, but he's arguably one of the best characters on the show, and is probably the best villain.

But he showers Caroline with affection. A lot of it, I think at least at the beginning, is love bombing. And while Caroline isn't amused by it, she is a little enamoured by it. She really is attracted to him, and doesn't like it. The thing is, Klaus is a lot like Damon, but he also cares about Caroline, and saves her life. Caroline is also traumatised, and has this belief that she'll never be anyones first priority - and I'll be absolutely clear on this, I'm not saying that Caroline isn't anyone's first priority, I'm saying that Caroline thinks so, and whether it's true or not isn't relevant to this particular conversation.

But Klaus at certain points, prioritises Caroline. And she's enamoured by this. When they fuck in the woods, he is only there for a day, and she wants to fulfil her desires, and maybe, get it out of her system, see what it's like. But, and I'm not sure of this, I haven't seen it discussed anywhere nor do I know Caroline's character enough to know if this is true, but I think sleeping with Klaus is Caroline's way of feeling in control.

Klaus is a lot worse than Damon, and she wants to feel in control with him, the kind of control she never had with Damon, as part of a trauma response. I'm not saying it's only a trauma response, but that part of it is. It's okay if anyone disagrees with this, or anything in this post, but this is my opinion. But, in either case, I'm not going to call it selfish.

There is a larger discussion here about what is selfishness, and it's always bad to be selfish, and whether or not a character being selfish should be a hindrance to liking them, but I digress. That's for another discussion.

Damon and his abuse of Elena

In episode 1x03 or 1x04 of TVD, Damon compels Elena to kiss him, but she's wearing vervain, so she doesn't get compelled. But honestly, Damon was so in love with Katherine, that he could've done anything to Elena simply because they look alike. In s2, he tries to break her hand, and physically abuses her, and throughout her relationship with Stefan and s3, he continually hits on her. In the end, she has no choice but to accept his behaviour.

In s4, he tricks her into blood sharing, and sleeps with her when she's sired to him. It's definitely sexual abuse, dub-con at best, but it isn't discussed because that clusterfuck of a plot point, the sire bond, is fucking weird. Elena is basically enslaved to Damon, like the hybrids are to Klaus, and no consent in this situation can ever be freely given.

So, I agree, Damon abuses Elena but it is never addressed, because the sire bond is presented, according to narrative, as a romantic thing.

In conclusion, a lot of TVD is rooted in misogyny, in fact the entire concept of 'who deserves Elena' is highly misogynistic because it treats Elena as an object to be coveted rather than a person. And so, it makes that quite a few fans are also misogynistic, but there's nothing we can do about it. Like I understand your frustration, and I'm right with you about Elena being hated for the most ridiculous reason, and I wish there was something we could do about it, but there isn't.

Thank you so much for sending this ask, it got me thinking about a lot of things, especially cause I'm neither a Klaroline nor a Delena shipper.

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump

Let's Talk Whump is a series of interviews with the wonderful members of the whump community. I'm Malice and I'll be your host. Joining us today is the one and only @oddsconvert !

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump! Do you mind sharing a little about yourself?

Hi there, I’m Shannon! I’m a 21 year old psychology and criminology graduate from the UK! My favourite colour is yellow. I basically have a zoo of pets bahaha; I have four cats, a dog, a rabbit, two rats, three fish and two tarantulas (not mine - they terrify the life out of me!)

When I’m not whumping and traumatising my fictional babies, I love to crochet, listening to/playing music (I play piano, guitar, clarinet and ukulele), and I’m currently teaching myself to draw…for whump purposes ;)

What does whump mean to you? 

For me, whump is freedom and release. Not only is it enjoyable, almost like scratching an itch? But it’s cathartic, and what I now see as a healthy coping mechanism for managing difficult feelings and a way to navigate my own trauma. Although, looking back, whump has been something that’s always been an interest of mine since early childhood, and has stuck ever since! Like rewinding disney films when the princes get tied up ahahah.

And also the comfort element of whump, I think it also helps me explore wants and desires in my own life. Writing my caretakers and their fierce protectiveness, and unconditional care over whumpees feels like it heals a part of me that maybe needed that at times. It gives you such a heartwarming feeling when you see these characters go through hell and back, and have someone to fall on at the end who will be there through thick and thin, regardless how choppy the water gets. 

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

I used to scour pinterest for writing prompts! I only ever wrote in private, I’ve never EVER shared my work publicly before and never dreamed I would. But the more and more whumpy pins I was saving I was like “hmmm. These all come from the same site! Let’s go check that out” and then I scrolled the  #whump tag for endless hours instead of doing my university dissertation. I remember coming across @deluxewhump and @darkthingshappen first!

At first I joined as a faceless, lurking blog. I really wanted to hop in and join all the creators I was loving so far but I was terrified. I think I had a bio as something like “working up the courage to post.” And then some lovely anon sent me my first ask saying they’d love to see what I’d post! And I slowly crept out of my shell and bit by bit started building my profile and adding my name and posting my whump drabbles!

Pinterest whump prompts gang rise up! That’s exactly how I found the community too! Has your view on whump changed since you joined? 

I used to be ashamed of liking whump. Like it was some dirty little secret that made me a terrible person and I should keep it to myself. Hide it at all costs. Since joining, and interacting with this world-wide community of whump enjoyers, I realised it’s not something that should be taboo. If anything, it almost feels normal! Look how many thousands love it! And every single whump creator I’ve had the pleasure of meeting has been so kind, supportive and such genuine people! 

It really feels like coming home when you find the whump community and realise you’re not a weirdo! Would you like to share your favourite whump tropes? 

I’ve definitely discovered more about my whump taste! I used to just purely like captivity whump, usually with creepy/intimate whumpers. That was always my go to. Now? I’ve discovered SO many tropes I never even knew about and love! BBU?! Pet whump, whumper turned whumpee, bad caretaker, vampire whump, sickfics, hero/villain and so much more! 

Non-optional, you have to share a favourite piece you've written? Hype yourself up, we want to hear it!

Without a doubt, my first ever chapter of ‘Shattered’ - my bloodbag whumpee/vampire whump series. I’m usually very self-critical of my writing, but I really love how this one came out and how well it was written. I pretty much never get whumperflies off my own writing, but my poor sweet Declan - just living dead and the way Vince is forced to take care of him. 

But also honorary mention - my latest chapter of ‘Play Pretend’ . Play Pretend is my baby, and it was the first chapter of this series I had beta’d by my wonderful friend @whumpcereal and I felt like she just took it to the next level and kicked it up a notch. Josh’s fear and exhaustion came to life and I really enjoyed writing his inner monologue!

You weren’t kidding about the whumperflies in “Shattered”! Hot damn! What's your writing schedule usually look like? 

Night time for sure! Dead of night - 3am most often ahaha. I’m a night owl, through and through. I’ll try and write in the day and nothing comes and then night comes and I’m like brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, whole chapter done! I usually have some music on in the background, sometimes I make a specific playlist for whatever vibe I’m feeling! And I mostly write when the inspiration strikes, as much as I can get out until the motivation vanishes.

And do you find that the words flow better for somethings than others?

For me, I find it really easy to write my creepy/intimate whumper scenes. For Play Pretend, writing Felix’s deranged and creepy obsession with Josh just comes so naturally (maybe I should be concerned…). The way he’s so unsettling but so adoring with how he speaks to Josh and touches him, I could write it in a heartbeat.

More recently I’ve been trying to delve into the nsfw portions of whump and writing. But I’m a newbie with it, and I really struggle with writing it or making it sound good. 

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

My usual schedule swings around, I update my series in an order. It tends to be, A Taste of Your Own Medicine, Shattered, then Play Pretend - and I’ve just updated ATOYOM so Shattered is up next! I’m primarily working on a flashback chapter with August currently! But I dot in and out of future chapters too.

I also have planned future whump series to come whenever my current ones finish up! But that’s a little while off yet. 

Give us some writing advice. Bless us with your wisdom, oh awesome one!!!!!

I WILL SCREAM THIS FROM THE ROOFTOPS - WRITE FOR YOU!

Never ever write based on what you think people like/don’t like.  The absolute joy in writing is the freedom in putting the pen to paper, or cursor to doc , and just letting your imagination run wild. Your audience is out there. People that will love and cheer for your writing, and I think you can really tell when an author has enjoyed and had fun with what they’ve written. There’s no good in getting bogged down with what others think. 

Write for you, post for you, and if others hop along for the ride - all the better!

Is there anyone you’d like to give a shout-out to?

I love absolutely everyone in this community, I’m gonna tag so many people - my besties alongside some of my favourite blogs and creators. Ily all you talented people. 

@whumpcereal @darkthingshappen @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @for-the-love-of-angst @emmettnet @turn-the-tables-on-them @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @t0rture-me @ha-ha-one @not-a-space-alien @whump-queen @justsomewhumpee @livelaughwhump @writereleaserepeat and I’M PROBABLY MISSING SOME BUT YOU’RE ALL AWESOME

Finally, anything you'd like to add? 

The whump community has quickly started to feel like home to me, I have a lotta love for whumpblr and every soul I’ve met here! Thank you so much for having me and to whoever nominated me!

It’s been a pleasure! 

Happy whumping, people!

Thank you so much for joining us today, @oddsconvert! And to all you awesome folk at home, have a whump-derful day!

[ivyial]

RIGHT SO

after my previous reblog, i feel compelled to write a "short" post (love letter) about (to) this game

so for those of you who haven't played it, or never even heard of it, professor layton vs phoenix wright: ace attorney is a crossover game between the two franchises (you'll have guessed it from the title) and it is PAINFULLY underrated :,) (i also hear that it is now hard to get physical copies of this game at a decent price so i'm glad i kept mine)

essentially used to be my favourite game of all time before it got dethroned by the resident evil 4 remake (but i will forever remember it fondly). i remember my parents gifted it to me for easter back in 2014 (so i was around 12 back then) and i don't think they realised how much this would change me. like this is one of the reasons why i started thinking about studying law later LMAOO.

essentially layton and phoenix both end up helping this young girl, espella (i played it in french back then and her name is aria so their english names are a struggle for me) who is being hunted by witches and then put on trial in london for the assault of a ship's crew member. then the wildest thing happens and they get sucked into a book and are sent back to medieval times. yes it sounds insane. but in this small town called labyrinthia, witches are real, and so are witch trials (DOESN'T IT SOUND COOL AS FUCK??).

they've all forgotten who they are, though. phoenix doesn't remember being an attorney and layton doesn't remember anything either. they find espella again, and she's put on trial AGAIN, for witchcraft this time. the game alternates between the usual layton riddles and ace attorney's investigation/trial phases. the odds are high this time around, because those found guilty of witchcraft are shoved into a metal cage and plunged into a pit of fire. they're not messing around.

of course, it wouldn't be layton or ace attorney without a massive plot twist at the end. i'd argue this one is probably the most insane out of all layton games (it's even a bit far fetched tbh, but just saying, you do not see it coming) (okay it's even full of plot holes and i haven't revisited the ending in years but if i did, i think it would be detrimental to my mental health).

the art style is amazing - i'm in love with the later ace attorney art styles, starting from dual destinies and this game, and particularly the latest great ace attorney chronicles. here are a few of my favourite character designs from the game:

but overall, one of the best things about the game has to be the soundtrack. it is the perfect mix of both franchises' music and it is a CRIME that neither level 5 nor capcom have released this on spotify (capcom i know you have all other AA soundtracks on this app. add this one. i am begging you). if you've never played an ace attorney game before, then you do not know the sheer adrenaline of phoenix shouting OBJECTION and the music speeding up. here's one of my favourite tracks:

tell me this doesn't make you immediately want to confess to 47 crimes you haven't committed.

it's kind of the perfect crossover game if you're into the genre, it's perfectly balanced between riddles and trials. the stakes are also a lot higher and there's actual executions. maybe i shouldn't have played this at the age of 12 actually - at some point (spoilers ahead), maya is wrongly executed and the scene will forever haunt me for some reason:

(go to 18:06 if the youtube timestamp doesn't work) i chose the french version of the cutscene because it's the one i played back then and i find that the french dub is a lot more compelling than the english one (somehow? the french haven't produced a good dub in decades so). also maya's screams are downright heartbreaking and the scene was traumatising asf when i was a kid

ANYWAY. please play this game, it's so much fun. for the AA enthusiasts, there's an edgeworth cameo at the very end. i very much fear that this game will be forgotten eventually, but it warms my heart to see that there are still people talking about it on the internet.

[lia404]

Get to know me better game—2 in 1 because I'm 6 months late

Tagged by: @baratrongirl and @missmewachu

Thanks for being so patient while I was figuring out how Tumblr works again and why I had a blue dot beside "Activity" (as in, notifications about tag games I've been sent 6 months ago. Better late than never 🤦‍♀️) Thankfully the tag games you sent my way are very similar so it won't be hard to do 2 in 1!

Last song I listened to: Chipzel - Courtesy - YouTube

The 1st track of Super Hexagon, composed by Chipzel. Chipzel's music has been a pick-me-up since 201...4 I think? And since I fell back into Super Hexagon around a week ago, the music has also found its way back into my work playlist.

Currently reading: Trick question! There is what I am MEANT to read, and what I am ACTUALLY reading.

What I am MEANT to read is To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose, which has absolutely all the elements I need to love a book. The problem is that my brain absolutely refuses moving further than Chapter 1, and I've been stuck for MONTHS. The good news is that when it happens, I usually struggle until the moment my brain finally snaps and I read the whole book in an afternoon. Wait for me, Moniquill Blackgoose, I'll soon be raving about your book.

What I am ACTUALLY reading is... well, it's more re-reading, but I'm going through Happy Hour by Inkflavored and Keep the Light Shining by Clydeside, two Yu-Gi-Oh AUs that have been incredibly healing for me in the past months, for very different reasons. I wanted to re-experience them to see if I could turn them into fanbinding projects (if the authors give me the authorisation of course, but I haven't reached this level of confidence yet, let's give it time.)

Currently watching: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS.

Do you believe me if I tell you that it was an accident? It kinda was though! I wasn't the one who played the first episodes I just kept going afterwards. That said, I have fully adopted Yusaku. I kind of wish he could meet Philip from Kamen Rider W. Things would go so well.

Currently writing: this one is plain cruel, because after a drought spell of almost 2 years, I finally feel like getting back into writing (thank you, current obsession.)

I have 3 WIPs, one PWP because I like a challenge, one backstory of a character that has basically become my OC, and one AU that @wisyhana created and that I'm using as a wonderful sandbox. I am between 2k and 5k into each, nothing is complete, I'm losing my mind. But at least I'm writing again, right?

Spicy/sweet/savoury: Okay yes no it's cruel again and you will not make me pick just one.

If you've followed me these past years you know that I have completely lost my sense of taste between 2020 and 2023. I was lucky enough, and honestly even the specialised doctor said it was a miracle, to have most of it come back to me abruptly in March 2023, after 3 years unable to enjoy a bit of chocolate or a nice gratin. Some tastes are lost forever, but so few compared to what came back that I just can only be very very grateful and very confident in saying SPICY SWEET SAVOURY I'LL TAKE THEM ALL. I LOVE TASTES. ALL OF THEM.

Relationship status: I have been told polyamory looks good on me.

And I am lucky to have the most patient and tolerant lovers ever. EVER. I love them so much and I'm so bad at showing it because I am a mess. There isn't a day where my heart doesn't overflow with gratitude that they are in my life and agree to putting up with my bullshit.

Current obsession: Listen, Mew put it SO ELOQUENTLY I can help but quote:

mentally ill traumatised japanese teenagers and their ancient egyptian guys who hang out in their jewellery all playing card games.

So, yeah, current obsession is Yu-Gi-Oh!, and with it Duel Links, and everything children-card-game-adjacent. I am currently trying to figure out why everyone in this kid's show is so hot and delightfully traumatised. Characters after my own heart, all ready to be projected on and used for cathartic writing purposes. Other obsession is MEW'S FAULT TOO ACTUALLY since it's my newly founded Clan in Flight Rising. Ask me about my dragon Atem.

Favourite colour: I like my colour like my wine—burgundy. (I actually like all sort of shades of purple, violet and red, but I don't know how to list them.)

Tagging: Wow uh who do I know around here who is still active?

@twilightknight17 for sure (although I'm sure you already did it), @wingsonghalo maybe? Uuuh, I think @the-wanderer-of-thoughts and @istadris? You know, considering how inactive I am here, I think it's already a lot, but if you're not in the list and want to do it too, be my guest!

[decepti-thots]

I had no idea that anything was actually happening with otw but thank you I see this as a sign to start downloading all my fav fics lol

On reflection, I suppose I did make that comment offhandedly without thinking that many people have no idea what I'm talking about- it concerns stuff I suppose falls into that "if you're in circles that know it seems obvious, if not you have no idea it exists" valley.

I should probably clarify that that post wasn't me talking about some imminent risk of AO3 as a platform imploding or disappearing or anything, and nobody needs to start panicking in that regard. I was referring to the current boiling over of a lot of very long term (like, back to when it was founded) institutional/structural/operational issues within the OTW as an org that have been coming out over the past week or so. So me looking at being less solely reliant on AO3 was more a matter of longterm "seems a good idea not to be on just this one platform having these issues" planning and not anything anyone needs to be worried about like, right now.

...and because I know folks not as familiar with this same longterm stuff WILL ask, I'll put a brief summary below the cut for if any of you are curious. However, please be aware, this discussion will by necessity include reference to an incident last year in which OTW volunteers were sent CSEM/CSAM materials as part of a horrendous targeted campaign; while nothing graphic regarding CSA itself is discussed, I mention it here for post filtering and general warning purposes.

So these past couple of months there has been a sustained fan organizing action going on under the name #endOTWracism, which is a specific, targeted attempt at pushing for the OTW to make good on promises they made in 2020 to look at improving their response to racism on their platform. There's an FAQ covering the scope of the action (which ended yesterday, and ran through May) here.

I've been following this with very great interest and it's brought a lot of really good focused discussion out in fan communities, bringing back up a lot of talking points which have historically been shouted down re: the OTW and its poor (one might say "nearly entirely negligent") response to racism in fandom over the span of its existence, and the long standing attempts to get them to address this.

Anyway, one of the posts I especially was recommended that looked at it from the perspective of someone with experience in volunteering and organizing was this post, which takes a look specifically at the issues of how the OTW is structured as an org in a practical, real-world sense. I think it's a great post that brings a really good, grounded approach to the whole issue, looking not just at the big ideas but at how to really run a functioning organisation in a way that is able to be e.g. antiracist. A post like that of course brought in a lot of discussion of... how the OTW is structured and functions day-to-day! That being the topic at hand, and folks wanting to bring their own experiences to the table.

Which, both on that post itself and elsewhere, has uh. Brought some stuff to light that makes even the most hardcore OTW skeptic look like maybe they were overly optimistic. To be quite honest

Some highlights:

Last year, there was a horrendous attack in which OTW volunteers were directly emailed and bombarded with high volumes of CSEM. This was of course horrifically traumatising and scary, and even at the time it was noted that the OTW's response to this was wildly negligent in terms of taking action to safeguard and help their volunteers. Well, it turns out that a) this was an escalation of preexisting issues that the OTW knew about and failed to reasonably address, b) they took a HIDEOUSLY unethical approach to how CSEM distribution attempts were moderated on the platform and just dumped it on one unsupported volunteer who was left horribly burned out by the experience. This post has a good summary and roundup. The fallout from this entire debacle is way too much for me to summarize in full but suffice to say: folks are thinking maybe people should consider not continuing to volunteer for an org that is this unethical and exploitative towards its workforce in a way that directly puts that at serious risk! This is a standpoint I would agree with given there's seemingly also been internal retaliation against the person speaking out! This is terrible! I feel so bad for all these poor volunteers! I have been reading about and fuming regards this situation for two days now and it truly is awful.

There has recently been an instance in which Chinese OTW volunteers got hung out to dry regards their specific work with OTW on Weibo, where it was made clear to them that the org really wasn't interested in any of the work they were doing to engage with and support specifically Chinese fandom. Basically, "we don't really think this is worth doing, and noone involved in the board etc even speaks Chinese, so whatever". This follows an observed and longstanding pattern of higher ups at the OTW undervaluing... basically anyone who isn't part of Western anglophone fandom.

In general, just a LOT of current and past OTW volunteers talking on various platforms about the sheer dysfunction that means things at OTW are deeply incapable of getting basic shit done at best and straight up chew well meaning volunteers up and spit them out at worst. This is basically the nth round of this exact cycle since the OTW began, but in conjunction with the above, it seems to be getting a lot more attention than such things usually do.

This is only some of the stuff that's going on right now but basically, every single issue of internal bullshit the OTW has been accruing as an org for the past ~15 years seems to be blowing up at once, and it's really the first time I've considered that this time it might, in the long run, have a serious impact on the viability of the org in the future. (As things stand: it absolutely should do, because any org that so comprehensively fails the human beings working for it in such an immediate, real life sense needs to make huge immediate changes or fuck right off tbh.)

So that's a bad summary of... SOME of the stuff going on right now. It's a lot. Needless to say.

I wanted to make this post for a couple reasons. One: many folks came into fandom well after the AO3 was just this... site that was there, used by default, and which just sort of operates and you don't think about how. Which is understandable. A person coming into fandom in a post-AO3 world will see the site the same way one sees Twitter or Tumblr or Wattpad; a thing too big and too... default to really concern yourself with the details of how it came to be so big, and used by default. I, personally, have been in online spaces since I was very young, and AO3 launched when I was around sixteen, many years into my experiences with the fandom spaces it came out of. I was around at the time that the OTW and AO3 were proposed, developed and began to expand in scope. I was in circles where folks were talking about this stuff in a very direct way, basically. So I think I have a decent enough sense of context to help lift that veil a little for folks who have no such advantage, and also to help highlight that these are issues years and years in the making, not sudden revelations as they sometimes seem.

Two, because I expect to see many, many folks trying to pass this off as "discourse" or "wank" or "purity culture" in the coming weeks as the fallout continues, and I want dig my ankles in and say if you try that shit on with me I will laugh you off my blog. I think this post makes my opinion fairly clear on where I draw the line between "dumb fandom wank" and "this is not dumb fandom wank, this is serious shit"; it is well before this stuff. So.

tl;dr: I don't know what the OTW will look like in a year or two or five, and this shit has reminded me I shouldn't bank on pretending I do. So, I'm mirroring stuff elsewhere, not because I think the org will collapse, but because maybe the centralization of fandom is overall bad, actually. I encourage folks to consider their own feelings on the topic, since this is as good a reason as any to consider for yourself how you feel about this stuff.

[thefisherqueen]

“What! you have solved it already?” “Well, that would be too much to say. I have discovered a suggestive fact, that is all. It is, however, very suggestive. The details are still to be added. I have just found, on consulting the back files of the Times, that Major Sholto, of Upper Norword, late of the 34th Bombay Infantry, died upon the 28th of April, 1882.” “I may be very obtuse, Holmes, but I fail to see what this suggests.” “No? You surprise me. Look at it in this way, then. Captain Morstan disappears. The only person in London whom he could have visited is Major Sholto. Major Sholto denies having heard that he was in London. Four years later Sholto dies. Within a week of his death Captain Morstan’s daughter receives a valuable present, which is repeated from year to year, and now culminates in a letter which describes her as a wronged woman. What wrong can it refer to except this deprivation of her father? And why should the presents begin immediately after Sholto’s death, unless it is that Sholto’s heir knows something of the mystery and desires to make compensation? Have you any alternative theory which will meet the facts?”

Oh, I'm challenged by Sherlock Holmes! Fun times! This is my theory of what has happened: captain Morstan went to visit his friend (/secret lover??) major Sholto before planning to travel on to meet his daughter, and during that visit Morstan was accidentily killed. Perhaps a shooting game went horribly wrong. Sholto, like a typical rich man of his age, wanted above all to avoid Scandal so he buried the body somewhere and kept it all quiet. But of course he felt terribly guilty, so on his deathbed he confessed to his heir and made them promise that they would sent those presents to the captain's daughter. The poor traumatised kid obeyed their father's not-suspicious-at-all plan but also inherited the Guilt about it, so, on hitting the 10 year mark of the major's death, decides to confess everything to Mary Morstan

I can't wait to learn how wrong I am xD