#this is awful and unnecessary knowledge

[name-that-isnt]

Shaking shivering whimpering sobbing

Another quiz for if you were a fictional character how would your fandom treat you (if you think your life is too boring to have a fandom just think of yourself as living the domestic!au of some sci-fi or fantasy)

reblog with your results

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 3:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Chapter 3 is finally here! Hooray! Hope people enjoy this, cuz I'm going to sleep now zzz

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr

----

A week had passed since that encounter that had sent you running home, and you could only be grateful to yourself that you hadn’t given Tim your number back. He had probably expected that you would have messaged him back by now. Instead, you were going to avoid that cafe for a while.

As if to spite you, Red was currently fluttering about you. Or should you call him Tim? That might make things too confusing. Red it was.

You had looked at the card Tim had given you, and in all honesty, you regretted it. Mainly because of the name on the card.

Tim Drake.

Tim Drake, who is also commonly known as Tim Wayne. The adopted son of Bruce Wayne.

Tim Drake is Red Robin.

You stared down at Red, who had started dozing in your lap.

Did that mean that the Wayne family all were..? No, surely not. You mean, Brucie Wayne as Batman? That felt a little ridiculous. You could definitely see Robin as Damian Wayne though, he had the right energy.

Richard Grayson had ties to acrobats right? Something about a tragedy. Nightwing did perform quite the stunts.

…

It was way too late in the night for these revelations.

There was one way to know for sure though.

“Wing!” You called out, attracting the attention of the bird that had previously been messing around with your stuffed animal. Wing had way too much of a vendetta against your plushie sometimes. Honestly, if he destroyed one of them, you certainly wouldn't be hugging him anymore.

Wing flew over to you, in a graceful arc that included several unnecessary loops. Showoff.

Wing landed on your hand, and you took a deep breath. Stay calm. The weight of Red in your lap gave you a little comfort, keeping you grounded.

“Richard Grayson.” You said, staring.

No reaction. Not even a twitch, Wing just started tweeting cheerfully as if you hadn't said anything of interest.

Maybe Richard Grayson wasn't Nightwing then? Or was it Richie? Although, he could be called by a nickname instead. What nickname would a Richard be called though…? Maybe..

Dic-

A clutter caught your attention, the sound of a window being opened and slid down. Your window.

Uh oh.

You immediately panicked. What? What could you do? You likely only had about a minute or two until the invader located your bedroom, you needed to make a decision quickly. Even as birds, you knew Red and Wing could defend themselves, but were you willing to take the risk?

If you got robbed, that would be awful, but a robber could do so much worse with the knowledge of a vigilante's civilian soulmate.

You'd take the risk. You pick up Red’s prone form, placing him into an empty bag you had laying around. If your life was in danger, you'd simply free them, and all would be okay.

You turn around, aiming to grab Wing. You reach for him, but Wing evades, darting to the left. Frowning, you try and grab him again, but Wing continues to evade, tweeting in joy.

Wing! You felt like screaming, blood racing to your head and flushing you with panic. This was not a game!

You swipe at him, starting to grab at him in increasingly frantic motions. Each movement is skillfully evaded, with Wing adding a flourish to each dodge.

“Stop dodging!” You hiss, whispering as quietly as you could. It was only when you paused in a moment to calm your frustrations that Wing showed you solace. Landing on your head in a smooth movement, Wing gave a little chirp.

Holding your hands to your head, you felt Wing climb on. You lowered him to eye level, taking a second to glare, before suddenly remembering that you had a literal home invader and stuffing Wing alongside Red in your bag. You had just clipped the bag shut when the creak of your door alerted you to their entrance.

Turning, you were beginning to lament the loss of all your earthly belongings when you locked eyes with a familiar face.

Red Robin.

“What..?” You mumble, horrified. Why was Red Robin here, in your house? The only place you could count on. The one sanctuary you had where you never had to worry about getting caught. Where you were safe.

You didn't feel safe anymore.

“Why? Why are you.. in my home?” The words stumbled out, barely registering even as they left your mouth. You had started shaking. When did that happen?

Perhaps noticing how shaken you were, Red Robin had the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry for invading your house.” He began, with an apologetic tone. “I got quite a bit injured while patrolling, I was hoping I could camp out here for a while.” He gestured to his leg, where a grievous scratch bled. He smiled at you, a polite, small thing, as if it would convince you.

No, was your immediate answer.

“Yes.” Was your spoken response. “I guess that will be fine, but don't linger too long, I don't want to be targeted because a vigilante came into my window.” You tried a smile. It felt like a mask. “And I don't know any medical care. I can offer you my first aid kit, but that's about it.”

“That's fine.” Red Robin seemed reassured, happy to be here. “I have some medical supplies of my own, but I'd appreciate it if I could use your medical kit.”

“I'll go get it. Could you go to the kitchen, please? I’d rather not have you bleed out on my bed.”

He chucked. “Sure.” Then he was gone, headed off to your kitchen. He acted as if it was so simple, as if your life hadn't just shattered to pieces all around you. So nonchalant.

You took a moment to catch your breath. It was difficult. Then, you lifted the clip of your bag, checking in on your soul animals. Wing was cuddled up to Red, the two dozing.

You frowned. Red was fine. He was completely calm, fading in and out of sleep. There was no trace of an injury on him at all.

When it came to injuries, soul animals had some quirks. They only reflect injuries if the soulmate found the wound to be serious enough. Because your soulmates were vigilantes, you were plenty familiar with when they were injured or not. Red was not injured. Not in the slightest.

Red Robin’s wound was intentional. Calculated. If it was a genuine issue, Red would be suffering as well. Which meant only one thing.

Red Robin was on an investigation.

And you were the subject.

You took a couple extra minutes to compose yourself, minutes you didn't doubt Red Robin was utilizing to his full extent. You just had to remind yourself, you were a civilian, you had nothing to hide.

He could look everywhere in the house and not discover a thing. The real secret was already contained in your bag. You could not let him find your soul animals. He can see everything else, but that.

It would be really convenient if both Red and Wing suddenly left to visit some other soulmate of yours, but you knew better than to expect that. If anything you'd be lucky to not have some other soul animal of yours show up. Ever since Spoiler and Orphan showed up, they'd been more persistent than usual. Maybe the new bonds had reminded them that they still hadn't met you.

Well, it was time to face the music. Or the Tim, that worked too. You had already wasted enough time.

Shaken, you slowly stood up. You gathered your bearings, breathed.

You could do this.

Opening the door to the kitchen took much longer than usual, you could only blame the nerves. You locked eyes with Red Robin.

You couldn't do this.

“Hey.” He said. He had his own kit open, taking out some bandages. Despite the illusion of busyness, you didn't doubt he had already skulked around your home. “Did you get the medkit?”

Ah-

The medkit. The kit of medicine you had said you'd bring. The very reason you had your precious minutes of safety in your bedroom. The medkit you forgot. Fu-

You darted back into your room, ripping open a cabinet, and yanking the kit out as if it were the cause of your problems, before dashing back over to him. It was a miracle you hadn't tripped on the way over.

Play it cool.

“S-sorry!” You tried. Your heart was beating out of your skull. Could he tell? Did he already know? Was it over?

“Here.” He took the kit from your shaking hands, laying it across the table and opening it. “You said that you didn't know any medical care. Gotham has clinics, but it's a little dangerous to not have any idea of how to treat an injury, I'll show you.”

You felt yourself nod.

No. It couldn't be over. He’s got nothing on you, and will never have anything. You are a normal citizen, you just need to act like it. You didn't live a life separate from the world, hidden from birth, just to get caught.

You noticed a flutter of movement in the darkness behind his shoulder, and stared. After a bit of squinting, you could make out a small figure in the darkness. A bat.

Uh oh.

A rush of horror gripped you. The bat was smaller and slender than the Bat. It was Orphan. You gave a little twitch, a small shake of the head, begging for it to not move. Orphan didn't react.

Red Robin began explaining how to properly cleanse and sanitize wounds. You did your best to pay attention. Somehow, he was a decent teacher. He then moved on to explaining how to properly bandage. You assumed that he was just going to talk you through it. This assumption was broken, as Red Robin instead took your hands in his, and guided them through the correct technique. Once you seemed to have gotten it, he then let you apply them to his leg.

“A little tighter, just like that.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

Why would he let you do this? Aren't the bats supposed to be paranoid? Your thoughts were interrupted by a ruffle of your hair. You looked up, locking eyes with Red Robin. He smiled.

“Well done.”

What the hell was going on.

The only good thing about today was that Orphan still hadn't moved. You almost forgot about it, since Orphan had stayed in complete darkness the whole time. Perhaps Orphan was content just watching?

Ah, but you're getting distracted. Red Robin received his medical care just like he wanted, now it's time for him to leave. And never come back.

“Are you doing any better?” It was a tentative question. Unfortunately you didn't think a ‘get the hell out of here’ would work any better, as much as you wanted to say so.

He nodded. “Yep. I'll head out now, goodbye.” Red Robin stood up, gathering his medkit up and placing it in his utility belt. He vaulted up to your kitchen window, sliding it open once again and climbing up to it. Now you knew what window it was, you were absolutely fixing that shut.

A glance in Orphan’s corner told you that it was still there, still watching. In that aspect, the soul animal was rather like the Bat. A stalker. Still, you'd take it.

You had never been so glad to watch someone leave before. He didn't let you enjoy your happiness for long, however, as he turned back to you at the last moment. “Oh, by the way”. He began, as if you weren’t screaming inside.

“I'll be coming over again in a few days, possibly next week.” He glanced at some gadget you didn't care about as he said this, nonchalant.

What.

“W-why?” You stuttered, completely bewildered. He had definitely checked out your house, there was nothing to be found! For what insane reason would he be coming back for?!

“It’s not safe for any Gothamite to lack basic first aid training. Your parents should have taught you better.”

The world was becoming red, you hid a clenched fist behind your back. “That's nothing that a first aid course wouldn't teach me, really, it'd be fine if you didn't come over.”

You wanted to outright protest, you really did. But you couldn't. Drawing any excessive attention would be your downfall. It'd be much easier, if Red Robin would pick up that you clearly didn't want him here!

And besides, your parents were busy enough, paying to keep you safe, hidden from the world. They have done enough.

“A course can't teach you like a hero can. I'll know when your in, so, keep an ear out.” Of course. Thanks Tim, so much.

So now you had the choice between staying at home wherein Red Robin could show up at any moment and find out your soulmates, or you could leave home and get caught with having vigilante soul animals outside. Great, what wonderful options.

You're about to protest, give a better argument, at least something. But you're interested by a squawk coming from your bedroom. You realised what happened immediately. One of the robins had finally woken up.

He needed to get out. Now.

“Okay fine, but please leave. Having a vigilante hanging out of my window is even worse than being inside my house.” You gave up. It didn't matter what concession you had to give, you needed him out immediately.

Red Robin had the audacity to chuckle, as if you had made a joke. He lifted his hand in a wave, before vanishing with a swoosh.

As if he had never been there to begin with.

A shaky sigh left you, your knees losing strength. But you snapped back to attention a second later. It was time to attend to your soul animals.

Orphan landed on your shoulder as you made your way over to your bedroom. You reluctantly petted it, sapped of your usual enthusiasm. At least it knew of subtlety, unlike certain soul animals you had.

Maybe it was time to finally get some sleep.

[uranometrias]

nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

[thewanderingmask]

my submission for the hermitcraft season 10 fan art gallery: Xisuma Eternal! (actual size on left, embiggened version on right)

there are a ton of little thoughts that went into this and i will now go off about them at length (ramble under the cut)

let's start with the image layout and composition! my first idea was to do an homage to the original doom box art because of X's skin, but ultimately I decided on referencing this Eternal cover (hence the title of the piece) because it sparked some stronger ideas in my brain.

i still wanted to keep that link to the original though, so i did my very best to emulate the original logo with X's name - replacing the original texture with binary as one of many references to X's role supporting the technical side of the server.

(for no reason other than my own amusement, the binary in the letters is translated lyrics from X's verse in the hermit gang song. i don't even know how much of that is still visible after lining the letters, but i liked putting it there)

i've only been watching hermitcraft for a few months, and there's an awful lot of history i don't know about. so i focused on doing my best celebrating builds X has worked on here in season 10! i would have loved to include his base as well, but ultimately i ran out of room.

(there are still a few nods to other seasons based on knowledge i've acquired through osmosis. evil X is the most obvious, but i was also able to sneak in a couple small carvings next to the X in the title text!)

coming back around to xisuma's work on the technical side, that's why Evil X is backed by error windows. it's also why xisuma is holding a toolbox! it was the best visual metaphor i could come up with for the digital job of maintenance and repair.

(and of course he has a lovely cup of tea as well)

the allays (holding redstone) are partially in reference to farms X has been making, partially bringing back in that angelic/demonic vibe of Doom, and mostly because their intended role of supporters and helpers feels very thematically appropriate for X.

the lines in the sky are of course meant to evoke the shapes of mace race, and the black cube is a minecraft-ified version of the Soulside Eclipse logo.

(if you're not familiar, that's xisuma's music! it's good!! give it a listen sometime! it's on youtube!)

the silverfish at the very bottom are visual reference to the demon hordes of Doom - and of course they're also much more directly referencing X's very clever prank in impulse's city.

finally, on the walls of spawn we have the carved symbols - one for every other hermit. i remember X mentioning in a stream once something about fulfillment from supporting others. (i apologise if i'm remembering less than clearly.) it just felt like if i wanted to represent X, it felt important to include them as well.

and of course it made me happy to do something for Every hermit, since all of them

(smallishbeans/joel was actually the one i got most stuck on! there wasn't really a single item or symbol i could think of to narrow him down to. ultimately i decided on a torii gate and a little letter J, but i'm honestly still thinking about it)

ah right, and the Actual last thing: this turner out to be totally unnecessary, but i absolutely did draw this in the minecraft map hex code colours. it's a tricky palette to work with, and i learned a LOT about pixel art while trying to get the sky to look nice!

this piece took about 10 days to complete, maybe the longest i've ever spent on a single illustration like this - and honestly, i'm really happy and pretty proud of how it turned out!!

[carooosa]

The Rose with Hidden Thorns

A/N This takes place before Enchanted Distractions

Summary: ADHD!Tav (reader) struggles with being a leader. They need to balance what they want and what the rest of the party wants. After taking some time alone for themselves, Tav is caught off guard by Astarion. They share some moments together, before Tav finds out who he really is...

Word count: 4k

Smut if you squint, slight angst at the end

One of the good things that came out of the tadpoles was your increased ability to focus. Remembering what happened last week, let alone yesterday, no longer caused mental strain. For the first time in decades, you were confident in yourself. You could finally think clearly. There was no reason to second guess yourself now that the cloud of uncertainty that followed you around seemed to dissipate. 

Botany had been one of your many short-lived passions as a kid, and now out in the forest, each turn brought about new plants and herbs to identify. The catalog that lay dormant in the back of your mind was thrust to the forefront; excitement that was long forgotten making itself known once more. 

Not only were you excited to grow your knowledge, but to actually put it to use. The nights you spent under the covers sneaking a few chapters or so of whichever botany book you could get your hands on were finally proving useful. Potions, grenades, elixirs, oils, and anything else that your party needed, you could make. Granted, it took some trial and error at first. The satisfaction of saving your group a few gold was well worth the wasted ingredients. 

You couldn’t help it when you ran off to grab a bushel of mugglewort or a handful of weavemoss. Lae’zel was the first to remark on the frequent side paths you would lead the party down.

“T’cthk. There is no time for gathering when we should be hunting down the ghaik that plagued us with these tadpoles,” she said. Lae’zel was always impatient, but when Wyll mumbled approval and Shadowheart wearily nodded in agreement, you faltered.

Noticing your self-doubt, Karlach spoke up. “Aw come on guys, don’t be so hard on Tav. It’s not like they’re doing this for no reason. They make those potions for us so we can save some coin.”

You heard a scoff behind you and turned to face a disapproving Astarion. “Extra gold is useless if you’re a mind flayer, darling.” He grabbed the plant in your hand and grimaced as he took a sniff of it. “You could at least find something with a more pleasant aroma.”

You ignored his remarks, choosing not to get into a petty argument; lately, Astarion seemed to always have a quip or smart remark ready for you. “They’re right, Karlach. We don’t have time to be taking detours,” you say, snatching the daggerroot from Astarion’s hands. “Besides, I can always come back later if I want to.”

Karlach wasn’t satisfied with that answer, and to make it known she stormed to the front of the group and started pushing everyone forward. “If you’re gonna get your panties in a twist over taking too long, you better be ready to get your steps in.”

Karlach had taken it upon herself to act as an older sibling to you. You hadn’t asked, and you were certainly capable of managing things yourself. The silent allegiance was formed after you had convinced Wyll that Karlach wasn’t a devil, and that she wasn’t harming anyone. Although her support was unnecessary, it was appreciated, as being tasked to make difficult decisions as the impromptu leader weighed heavy on you.

You knew you weren’t everyone’s first choice of a leader, anyway. Hells, you weren’t even your first choice as a leader. Wyll seemed like the smartest answer, but neither Astarion nor Karlach felt comfortable with a monster and devil hunter commanding them around. Gale was the next logical option, however with the secrecy of his… condition… and the fact that if he died again he would destroy Faerun, he had been pushed to the back of the party.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel had volunteered at the exact same time, and it was clear amongst everyone that neither of them would be calling the shots. You suggested Karlach, and Astarion had made some comment about how she would blow at the first difficult decision. You’d suggested him then, instead; clearly this is what that manipulative vampire wanted. He smirked when you had said his name, but his eyes searched your face. He was looking for something, and you weren’t sure what. Before you could comment, he had taken you by surprise by saying that you would be the best choice. 

“Darling, I do not need that stress. My face is flawless and I’d like to keep it that way. However, you,” he had always found ways to make digs at you, “look like the type who handles stress regularly. You were able to talk your way out of getting burnt to a crisp by a Zhentarim, while he was casting a fireball. You were able to walk into the goblin camp without causing any suspicion. You were able to somehow convince all of us to work together to get these damned tadpoles out of our heads.”

The rest of the group had agreed with his reasoning, and you were set in charge of the party. You tried to argue, but Astarion cut you off

“It’s already been decided. Besides, if you ever need help, I’m sure anyone here would be willing.” He took a step closer to you and lowered his voice to be just above a whisper, “I know I certainly would.” You weren’t sure if he had said that to flirt with you or threaten you, as the glint in his eyes could’ve gone either way.

What he had said about the others helping you had been a load of shit. In fact, everyone seemed to come to you for every little problem now. Gale needed an enchanted artifact to consume? It was up to you to find one. Wyll turned into a half-devil because he didn’t kill Karlach? You had to comfort both of them and promise to find a way to get him out of his pact. Lae’zel stood too close to Shadowheart? You were the one running in between them to stop the impending bloodbath. And yet there everyone was, annoyed that you took quick detours to find ingredients to help them spend less money on potions. 

Now here you were, 2 nights later, trying to remember where you saw the herbs on the path taken earlier that day. You were mumbling to yourself as you passed the same dead tree for the 3rd time when you heard a twig snap behind you. You reached into your bag and grabbed the first thing you could to threaten your stalker, turning around to prepare for a fight.

Astarion stood in front of you with both hands up in the air like a thug who had just been caught red-handed. “A mushroom?” He raised an eyebrow while using one of his hands to push the fungus away from his face. “Not the most menacing of weapons, is it now?”

You pushed him away from you as you sighed in relief “Hells, Astarion, you scared me! It’s not nice to sneak up on someone, you know? What are you even doing out here this late?”

He tutted at your reprimanding. “I could ask you the same thing. You’ve been walking in a circle for the past 20 minutes.”

You shoved the mushroom into your bag and turned away from Astarion, continuing to search the brush for plants. “I told everyone I would stop taking detours, didn’t I?”

“So you’re out collecting mushrooms?”

“Not just mushrooms,” you corrected, “other ingredients, too.”

As you dirtied your hands in the brush, a silence fell over the both of you. You grabbed the last morsel of a mushroom and turned around to be faced with Astarion tapping his foot impatiently, his arms folded across his chest. “I haven’t seen you make any potions lately.”

You stare at him incredulously. “I know. I’m purposely not flaunting around the potions that I spend half my night gathering ingredients for and the other half making.”

Astarion laughed and his mouth curled into a devilish grin. “Who would’ve thought that the ever-so-kind and selfless Tav would do something for only their gain.”

A warm blush spread over your cheeks. “You still never told me why you followed me out here. Everyone needs to sleep if we’re going to have any hope of getting these tadpoles out.”

“Darling, are you forgetting that I’m an elf? We don’t ne-“

“Oh that’s right!” You interrupted, “Elves don’t sleep, they meditate. I read that in a book. Is it true that elves can relive exact memories?” 

“That… depends.”

Oblivious to his uncomfortable demeanor, you ask more invasive questions. “Is it true that elves don’t grow facial hair? It looked like none of the wood elves in the grove had facial hair. I suppose it’s kinda ignorant of me to just assume all elves are the same. I mean, Halsin is super tall and elves are usually short.” You quickly blurt out an apology, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Besides I wouldn’t even call you short, you’re taller than me, although that’s not saying much,” your words start to tumble over each other as you ramble. You turn back around and bend over a rock to continue searching for ingredients, wincing as you remember you’ve already collected anything of use.

Astarion chuckles as he brings a hand to his forehead. “Yes, it is quite rude of you to assume all elves fit into the exact description you found in whatever children’s book you read.” He looks at you in amusement, “But sadly, no, I cannot grow facial hair.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad. You don’t have to worry about shaving.” With your mind focused on pretending to search, you don’t realize the words you’re saying until after they come out, “it must be nice not having to worry about pubic hair, either.” 

You freeze as your mind catches up to your mouth.

Astarion takes a step towards you, positioning himself right behind you, settling his hands gently on your back as he leans down to your ear.

“Was that also in a book of yours?” His breath tickles the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Noticing the way your body reacts, he drops his head down. His lips hover over your neck for a moment before he presses himself into you, causing you to let out a gasp. You feel his hardness push into your back as one of his hands begins to slowly caress your arm.

His behavior surprises you, and you try to think back to any signs of possible attraction. Some looks that linger for a second too long, a hand on the small of your back as he passes by, and the fact that lately he seems to always be next to you, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. These gestures could very well mean nothing to him and you would be none the wiser.

Thinking back on what you know of him, you realize you don’t know much at all. He mentioned that he was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate before the mind flayer abduction, but that was about it when it came to his past. Astarion would always change the subject whenever anyone asked him anything personal. Just like he had changed the subject earlier when you asked him a question.

While you were lost in your mind, he began to grind into you, the hand that was previously caressing your arm now gently groping your breast. He placed soft kisses on your neck, moving from the tip of your ear to the nook where your collarbone was. Your body pushed back against his absentmindedly, matching the slow rhythm of movement he had set.

It took him completely off guard when you spoke up. “You never answered my question: what are you doing out here?”

He quickly pushed off of you, “Gods, Tav! You’re still thinking about that?” You scrambled off of the rock and caught a glimpse of him adjusting his clothes. A sticky silence filled the air as you stood and studied Astarion. His face was turned away from yours, similar to how a child would act if they were trying to show defiance. The silence continued as it became clear neither of you would fold. You refused to let him get away with not answering you again.

To ensure there wouldn’t be any other distractions, you stared into the side of his face, repeating in your mind over and over, “What was he doing out here this late?” You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there; seconds, minutes, hours; but at one point Astarion quickly glanced and made eye contact with you before averting his eyes again. You watched as his features softened for a moment. That softness was swiftly hidden by a sly smirk as Astarion relented and turned towards you.

“If you really must know the truth, I was curious as to what you were up to.” Although he spoke with a concerned tone, his eyes were slightly glazed over.

“So you decided to sneak up on me and scare me?” This time you were the one who acted like a child, crossing your arms and letting out a huff.

Astarion let out that mischievous chuckle of his and took a step toward you. “That really wasn’t my intention, whether you believe it or not. I was simply worried about you.”

His words took you by surprise, a small gasp leaving your mouth. You tried to find the words to a smart reply, but instead stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

As if your reaction was what he wanted, the glint returned to his eyes. He closed the gap between the two of you, his movements precise and calculated. Astarion gently grasped your arms and unfolded them, his hands cupping both of yours. 

“Is that really so hard to believe, darling? That I could be worried about you?”

You felt your tadpole squirm from behind your eye, causing you to look up at Astarion. He silently pleaded, and you relented, opening up your mind to whatever it was he was going to show you. You closed your eyes, the darkness fading into the previous morning. 

You saw yourself from Astarion’s point of view. There was blood sprayed all over your armor from a skirmish with some gnolls. Although you had tried to hide the gaping wound on the left of your back, it was clear now that Astarion had noticed it.

After checking on the rest of your party, you watched as your body stumbled in to what you thought was a secluded corner. Your past self quickly pulled up your armor to apply a salve on the wound. In this vision, you could feel what Astarion felt as he watched you. Concern, yes, but there was something else there. Something feral that had awakened once you pulled up your armor. That feeling was pushed down, and just as he had done earlier in the day, Astarion stayed in place, watching you treat your wound from a distance.

Another vision pushed into your mind, this one unique and new; not a retelling of the past, but instead currently happening to you. You were out in the forest, taking off your clothes. As you lifted your blouse above your head, cold hands wrapped around your waist. You let out a shudder as needy lips worked their way up your back. The kissing stopped at your neck, and you turned your head to the side to get a view of who was with you. Before you could see the white curls and pointy ears of the man behind you, his scent overwhelmed you. You let out a choked gasp.

Astarion made eye contact with you, his eyes radiating that same feral feeling you must have felt in the previous vision. Without leaving you a chance to catch your breath, his lips crashed into yours. He turned your body to face his as his grip tightened on your waist. A low growl started in the back of his throat as he ravished your lips. Instinctively, your hands raised up to his head and grasped at his hair, trying to ground yourself as your pulse quickened.

The familiar feeling of a wiggle behind your eye snapped your mind back to whatever “reality” you were currently in. You felt Astarion trying to dig deeper into your mind, into your wants and desires, and without a second thought, you quickly yanked his head back, throwing you out of the vision. 

As you steadied yourself, Astarion made his way behind you, similar to the vision he had forced into your head.

“Darling, let’s go back to camp, hm?” he said in a low, sultry voice.

You were tempted to agree, if for nothing else to at least get some much-needed rest. But if you went back now, there wouldn’t be enough ingredients to make a potion of greater healing, and after your fight with the gnolls earlier today, you were desperately needing one. “I won’t rest until I find that balsam I saw earlier.”

Astarion gave you a tight squeeze before pushing you away, “Gods, you really are persistent, aren’t you? I guess I have no choice but to aid in your search.” 

You scoff, “You and I both know that you won’t be getting your hands dirty.”

The two of you spend the next two hours searching. Astarion is the one who finds the balsam, and you’re the one who digs it up. You make your way back to camp, talking about trivial, inconsequential things; anything you can think of to keep your mind off the visions Astarion showed you earlier. 

Has he always looked at me with such cravings? Maybe I’m oblivious to any signals he’s given me, you ponder. The utter need you felt from Astarion as you stood in his shoes was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe. You glance up at him beside you and see that stoic face he always reverts to. His hair looks like it’s glowing in the moonlight, his eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky. 

You catch the faint flicker of the camp’s fire in his eyes’ reflection and you pick up your pace, not noticing the brief second that Astarion’s eyes caught yours. Your body aches from the exhaustion of the past few days, and you quickly drop your bag and kick off your shoes, not caring about the mess you’re making. I’ll deal with it in the morning, you think to yourself, as you pass out next to the fire.

You wake up with a jolt and push yourself up from your bedroll. In front of you is Astarion, his eyes swirling with fear. His mouth is opened into a snarl, and the moonlight catches on his teeth.

His fangs.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion pleads with you to listen. He says that he’s a vampire spawn. As he continues to frantically explain himself, your body grows numb. Your mind wanders away as you question everything that happened mere hours before.

You sit all the way up from your bedroll, causing Astarion to stumble to his feet. While he’s regaining his balance, you mindlessly ask, “What were you actually doing out late, Astarion?” You don’t look him in the eyes when you question him.

He sighs. A moment passes before he answers, “I was out hunting. I heard a rustling and followed it. To be honest, I thought it was a mouse making that noise. It just so happened that what I heard was you, scrounging around the forest floor.” He lets out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “I was merely curious as to what you were doing. I had no intent to harm you. I promise.”

You don’t believe a word he says, but you’re too tired to question the authenticity of his story. If he wasn’t just ‘curious’ as to what you were doing and instead hunting yo—

You quickly push the thought down and remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a leader to this group, to Astarion. Leaders are strong and benevolent. You’ve always struggled when it came to strength, and lately, more and more blows have been hitting you. Difficult decisions are always on your shoulders, and no matter what you choose, someone is always let down.

You weren’t sure how to command a group of adventurers, but you knew you had to be selfless. And a selfless leader makes any sacrifices necessary for their companions.

“Ok.”

Astarion looks at you with an arched brow. “Okay? You’re not going to shove a stake through my heart?” 

Refusing to meet his eyes, you bluntly say, “I’m not going to judge you for taking care of your needs. Everyone in this group needs sustenance to be strong enough to fight.” Your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you, and perhaps if you had more sleep you would have thought your next actions through. Against your better judgment, you tilt your head to the side and offer your neck. “Go ahead, but make it quick.”

Astarion takes a step back, surprised that you would be willing to give him your blood. You’ve also surprised yourself, but your mind is elsewhere as he positions himself on his knees in front of you. You shiver as he gently brushes away the hair from your neck. Without warning, a sharp pain shoots through your neck. You feel your blood drain as Astarion sinks his teeth in deeper, consuming your very life’s essence.

You begin to feel dizzy from the blood loss.  Unable to stay present in this moment, you think of all the times any of your companions have helped you, and you realize they all have the same thing in common: they’re using you as protection. Lae’zel and Shadowheart are using you as protection against each other; Karlach is using you as a safety against Wyll. Gale is ensured magical items to consume, and Wyll can rest easy with your assurances of his freedom from Mizora.

You thought he was different, but even Astarion was using you for his benefit. For his place in this group. For his meals. Tears start to pour down your face and your body trembles from the heartache you feel.

Astarion pulls away from you and you finally look him in the eye. His eyes are blown out, practically completely black. There almost looks to be genuine concern on his face. Almost.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you? Well, more than the obvious, of course I hurt you, I can go get a potion,” he rambles, your blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

Barely above a whisper, you stare him directly in the eye as you say, “I thought someone actually cared about me for me, not for what I could provide them.”

Taken aback, Astarion stares at you, his expression unreadable. He quietly gets up and starts to walk into the forest before stopping. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget this.”

As you watch him slither into the darkness, your exhaustion comes back. Your body, mind, and blood are all drained. Sleep quickly consumes you, your mind an endless void allowing you no respite from your sorrows. 

When you awake, the rest of your party is already packed up and ready to continue on the path forward. You quickly ready yourself, not noticing the neat bundles that the plants from the previous night were tied into, and prepare for the long trek ahead. 

Thank you to @socialinadequacybeingsuchamust for helping me with spell checking/grammar/pushing the story in the right direction! And thank you to the many beta readers on @oharahive's discord!

[crooked-wasteland]

Something I am working on after the live blogs. I came across a very easy to find, but under shared bit of information regarding Medrano that has really recontextualized the show for me. It still isn't a good show, but I missed a crucial component when I said the series had nothing to say. It still doesn't have much to say, but once you realize that Vivienne Medrano was raised Presbyterian, and seems to still adhere to most of those teachings, a lot of decisions make sense. The particular denomination of Christianity is one based on Trinity doctrine, and also strongly adheres to the idea that depicting god is a biblical transgression. So that explains why God and Jesus are not characters within the series and will never be.

Additionally, the Presbyterian Church is one of the few sects that has a relatively strong belief in the Calvinist ideology of Predestination. Specifically that one is born chosen by God or not, which explains pretty much everything in Hazbin. Angels are "winners" because they were born chosen while a random select of unchosen people are damned to hell. Some versions of the Presbyterian Church still hold to the belief that one's lifestyle, be you a good or evil person, is irrelevant. If you are chosen, nothing you do will remove that.

And that is why these characters being in hell doesn't matter. They didn't do anything to get there. They still adhere to Christian beliefs of what sort of people are not chosen (drug addicts, sex workers, mean people), but there is an inherent lack of nuance because the doctrine renders it unnecessary. Adam and Lute are awful and allowed to be in heaven because heaven is forever. Chosen are forever chosen regardless of Sin. It also explains why the LGBT aspect of the show is irrelevant to the plot.

This background knowledge is paramount to understanding Hazbin and Helluva (Hell is like the living world because a mixed bag of people are in Hell in the first place. Hellborn characters are not that different from humans and still exist in a realm of morality because morality isn't the reason they are in Hell).

My issue with trying to get into Hazbin's themes was because I didn't understand this was the origin of the plot. A lot of critiques and proposed rewrites miss the point entirely because Predestination in this sense is not a common belief. The world building requires a relatively intimate understanding of Presbyterian teachings in order to grasp the basic foundation of the story.

[zapreportsblog]

Sukuna’s Godly Husband

➥ summary : Yumi (M/n) had originally been offered up to the King of Curses, Sukuna as a sacrificial bride for his people so that they may be spared. In other words he was a lamb waiting to be slaughtered but something unexpectedly happened the King of Curses Sukuna took the human in to his temple and under the engraved stone walls, Yumi (M/n) had been declared the bride of Sukuna, forced to bare his marking on his shoulder and stripped of his human name.

➥ chapter 5: The Blossoming Sanctuary

Within the confines of Sukuna's domain, an unlikely request stirred the stillness that permeated the air. Yael, the king of curses' male sacrificial bride, approached Sukuna with a timid yet hopeful expression, a desire brimming in his eyes.

"Sukuna," Yael began, his voice soft yet filled with determination. "I would like to have a garden."

Sukuna, the formidable king of curses, regarded Yael with a mixture of surprise and amusement. He had never expected such a request from his sacrificial bride, for gardens held no place within his realm of darkness and chaos. Yet, the earnestness in Yael's gaze compelled him to consider the plea.

"Why would you desire a garden, Yael?" Sukuna inquired, his tone tinged with both curiosity and skepticism. "Within these walls, you have everything you could possibly need. A garden seems unnecessary."

Yael's expression fell, a shadow of disappointment crossing his features. "I understand, Sukuna," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But I wanted something that could tie me to my village, a reminder of the world I left behind. A garden could bring me a sense of peace, of connection to the earth."

Sukuna's servant, who had been observing the exchange, stepped forward, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Perhaps, my lord, it would be wise to grant Yael's request," he suggested. "Denying him may lead to unforeseen consequences. Remember, a happy bride is a content bride."

Sukuna regarded his servant for a moment, contemplating the implications of his words. While he held the power of life and death over Yael, he recognized the importance of maintaining the human's happiness. Relenting, he finally nodded in agreement.

"Very well, Yael," Sukuna conceded, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "I shall grant you a garden. But remember, it shall be your responsibility to tend to it."

A spark of joy ignited within Yael's eyes as he bowed in gratitude. "Thank you, Sukuna," he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I promise to care for it with all my heart."

True to his word, Sukuna set his formidable power to work, shaping the very essence of his domain to accommodate Yael's desire. Within the confines of their shared space, a garden began to take shape—a sanctuary where nature's beauty could flourish. Sukuna spared no detail, weaving a tapestry of vibrant colors and fragrant blossoms that mirrored Yael's vision.

When the garden was complete, Sukuna presented it to Yael as a surprise, guiding him to the secluded corner of his domain. As Yael beheld the sight before him, his eyes widened with awe and wonder. Lush foliage, adorned with an array of flowers, spread out before him, each petal shimmering with life. It was a tapestry of nature's wonders—a testament to Sukuna's meticulous attention to detail.

Overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the garden, Yael turned to Sukuna, his voice filled with joy. "Sukuna, it's more beautiful than I could have ever imagined," he exclaimed, his words laden with heartfelt gratitude.

Sukuna observed Yael's reaction with a sense of pride, the corners of his lips curling into a rare smile. "I am glad it brings you joy, Yael," he replied, his voice softer than usual. "May it serve as a reminder of the world you left behind, and as a sanctuary where you can find solace amidst the chaos that surrounds us."

As Yael explored his newly bestowed garden, he marveled at Sukuna's detailed knowledge of the flora that flourished within. Sukuna surprised him with stories of each flower's significance and its connection to the human realm—a testament to his unspoken dedication to Yael's happiness. With each step, Yael felt an invisible thread connecting him to his village, bridging the gap between his past and present.

Overflowing with joy, Yael couldn't contain his gratitude any longer. He approached Sukuna, his arms reaching out for an embrace. Though the size difference between them was significant, Yael's emotions propelled him forward, wrapping his arms around Sukuna's waist in a heartfelt embrace.

Sukuna stood still for a moment, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily softened by Yael's gesture. He hesitated, his large hand gingerly resting on Yael's head, as if uncertain of how to reciprocate the embrace. But then, with a rare display of vulnerability, Sukuna's hand moved, gently caressing Yael's hair, a silent gesture of affection and acceptance.

In that moment, as Yael clung to Sukuna, a surge of warmth filled his being. It was a reminder that amidst the darkness and the trials they faced, there existed a fragile bond—a connection forged through unlikely circumstances. Together, they stood in the sanctuary of the garden, enveloped by the beauty that bloomed around them, their souls entwined in a delicate dance of understanding and acceptance.

As the days passed, Yael tended to the garden with unwavering dedication, his heart filled with a sense of purpose. With each touch of the earth, he found solace and connection to the world he had left behind. And as the flowers blossomed under his care, their vibrant hues mirrored the ever-growing bond between Yael and Sukuna—a testament to the enduring power of love and the transformative nature of acceptance.

In the depths of Sukuna's domain, amidst the shadows and the chaos, a garden had taken root—a testament to the union between the king of curses and his male sacrificial bride. It was a sanctuary that held the echoes of Yael's past and the promise of a shared future—a reminder that even in the darkest of places, beauty could thrive, and love could bloom against all odds.

[d3nt4l-d4m4g3]

The issue is not with people who believe themselves to be transgender. Who are given the choices that they believe will free them from various constant, chronic miseries. 

The issue is that some choices should not exist. This has been demonstrated again and again in our history. Once the decision to lobotomize one’s free-spirited daughter was a sensible and accessible one; once it was sensible to dose a colicky baby with whiskey; once it was common to take heroin for a cough, laudanum for a high-strung temperament, cocaine for depression. 

At least two patients not long ago, afflicted only by the mighty conviction they should have been born without a limb, were graciously permitted to have these heathy appendages surgically removed. 

And let me remind you that these patients were grateful, and may go to their graves grateful for the disabilities they asked for and received. 

Such choices summon an ill-humored genie, grab greedy fingers round the monkey’s paw. Such choices disguise the cost of a reckless wish, often forever to the wisher in their lifetime. Such choices come with a binding understanding on the condition that one be willfully opaque to, a fact which if one were to choose to accept and humble oneself before it, would bring the most awful of consequences.

To admit you were wrong would ruin you.

The people who believe they are transgender have every stake in this fight. If they accept that their choices were wrong, immoral, unjust, psychologically and mentally damaging, at cost of truth, genuity, sense, self, health, and life, their proceeding state would naturally be one of great shame and despair. At the harm they have caused and the lies they have told to themselves and others. Of the crushing farce of their lives, now shortened by unnecessary, gruesome, barbaric surgical and chemical altercations. Of the enormous sum of their own poisonous self-hatred, and the hatred of whatever differences they may possess by the world.

Those who perform these altercations: the genies, the sharp-toothed yellow-nailed monkeys, who offer the choices grandly and gluttonously, sleep well at night with bodies strong enough and hands deft enough to ruin all the bodies they touch. The victims smile, believing themselves saved. The monkeys smile, large sums on paper glowing in their rancid heads.  Many of these doctors, surgeons, so-called scientists believe themselves to be doing good in the world (Though some certainly only have a taste for power, money, and mutilation. The do-gooder has a secondhand sour unspoken knowledge, which is that if he is wrong he is a modern Mengele. What else do you call someone who meddles with the bodies of children, with the mentally compromised, with the most utterly desperate, who says goodnight to a whole person and good morning to a mutilated one with a smile? With a smile, with a smile.

Victims are annoying. They are. You don't want to look at them. They are self-involved, destructive, unreasonable as a long-caged animal. They are unnattractively pitiable because they cling to their sickness with the grip of someone hanging off a cliff. They are fickle, flaky, flagrantly inconsiderate of the families, friends and lovers they have alienated with the choices they have made. It is all too tempting to kick such a pathetic creature while it’s down, mocking it shivering in a cage of its own creation.

  But their choices should not have existed, their self-imposed cage should never have been imposed concretely by simpering false sympathizers. It is cruel and unproductive to blame a person who has been alienated, marked and mutilated by the esteemed healers of this savage society. A victim, victimized, naturally appears gnarled and unattractive, unpersonable because she has not been treated like a person; the perpetrator, clean-handed, immaculately white-coated, appears godlike. But don’t let that distract you from the true enemy. The enemy is not the choice maker, but the choice giver. 

[stevesnightmares]

I just re-read the captive prince trilogy after 9 years so here are some thoughts and observations (I read a physical copy while listening to the audiobbok):

No spoilers

the books are super easy to read, I read each of them in a day and never once did I get bored or felt like I needed to take a break. If you enjoy them I feel like they work perfectly if you are in a reading slump.

I might be biased because I was also listening to it while reading but I feel like the writing worked just fine. I saw people say that the writing was awful but I didn't have any problems at all with it. I was never once confused by what was happening on page nor did I ever feel like too little or too much was being said and described.

One of my gripes with the writing comes in book 3 because I felt like the two parts that had Laurent POV just didn't work because it didn't feel like it was a stylistic choice and it didn't feel natural or needed, it just made me think that the author didn't know how to write that from Demen POV (which makes no sense because I know she can)

not only that but I also feel like it would've worked much better if we didn't get those scenes and continued with Demen's knowledge instead of making us privy to something he didn't know. I genuinely think they were unnecessary.

I might've missed something but in book 3 there is also a part where I felt like what Demen is thinking in a chapter and then what he claims and thinks a few chapters later don't align. With no spoilers, this is how it felt to me: chapter 1: demen thoughts: the apple fell from the tree chapter 3: demen thoughts and words: I knew the apple didn't fall on it's own and that there was a reason for it to fall.

I don't know why people say that these books handle its dark themes badly. Personally I think it handled everything quite well. Just because every 3 seconds the author isn't telling you "this is bad" it doesn't mean that it's poorly done or supports any of the bad things that happen.

The characters live in extremely flawed societies that have practices that we wouldn't condemn, so of course they will not immediately start out being against them, it wouldn't make sense, instead throughout the books and events they slowly start to realise why some things are bad. It's called character development.

Not only that, words coming out of a flawed and traumatised character shouldn't be taken as the moral of the book but as what they are: words of a flawed and traumatised character who is lashing out.

I feel like many people saw that very bad things that happen in these books and instrad of saying "I can't read that", which is fair, they decided to take the high horse and act as if it's morally wrong to like these books because bad things are portrayed in them.

Book 2 I think was my favourite, I devoured it and it was just super fun to read.

My second gripe is with Jokaste but without spoiling anything I can only say that her character was imo wasted and that it just felt like the author had 2 very different ideas of who she was in book 1 and book 3.

I LOVE laurent, he's just the type of characters that I enjoy, cold and guarded on the outside but only because he wants to protect himself while being also sweet.

Also really enjoyed many of the side characteristics which I thought were really interesting (I would've enjoyed more interactions between those other characteristics and L and D but that's a personal taste)

I actually think that 9 years ago I only read the first book and the first half of the second while skimming through the rest lmao

also I will not tell you which character I didn't like at all and found annoying when I was 16 but would die for in an instant now because you'll think 16 years old me was psychopath because what the fuck

[grace-williams-xo]

I have but three things to say to the anti Penelope crowd. (Neither of which directly defend many of her worst offences as Whistledown).

ONE: Some people have pointed this out but I think it’s really important we remember that she is 17 s1, 18 s2 and 19 s3. She is high school age. Girl did not have a fully developed brain by any stretch. Is that an excuse and free license to be a dick? No, of course not, but I think y’all should remember some of the stupid and regrettable things you did in high school. Now again, think of the way society operated at the time and then imagine, just for a moment, what if teenage you had an anonymous and unfiltered Twitter/Insta account that was keenly followed by everyone in your town/city/community—most people you’ll interact with in your life. You would do DUMB SHIT. It’s not just ‘she’s young’ it’s ’she’s young with an unrestricted megaphone to everyone she’s ever met’.

TWO: The Whistledown moment that sticks with me, as perfectly capturing who Whistledown is and what she does, is not anything read by Julie Andrews but what Eloise talks about in the very first episode. She talks about how LW is discussing a countess who, despite looking like her season last year was good, lives in depressing solitude miles away from the earl she married. This stays with me for a few reasons. First, it shows that—right from the start—she has access and information and connections that we do not and will not understand. How does a 17 year old know the living situation of a married woman in the countryside? Maybe she overhead servants gossiping, we really have no idea. Second, it shows her equality in reporting. Like any news outlet, she reports what people want to read, but this passage sets up a precedent and example that she doesn’t just report on people from her block in Mayfair. I always watch shows and movies with the knowledge that what I’m seeing is never the characters entire day or life. Similarly, we never hear an entire LW issue—only what is plot relevant to the Bridgerton’s and that episode. I think this was shown well again in the opening of s3 when she comments on several of the other debutants.

THREE: On Marina. It is not Penelope’s fault that Marina attempted an abortion and nearly died. We are not responsible for other people’s reactions. At no point did she wish or encourage harm on Marina, she just wanted to stop a loveless marriage. I hear you saying it’s not her responsibility to stop it, but teenage girls have big emotions that they deal with badly—and many have an overwhelming and misguided sense of justice. Marina was in a fucking awful situation but Penelope did not cause it, and it was at several points exacerbated by Portia the actual adult. I’ve just started a rewatch of s1 and my anger at Portia (and Varley bc wtf there are some really unnecessary comments) about the way she treats Marina from the day she arrives is raging. Portia was bullying Marina at every opportunity because she was jealous Marina was more desirable than her own daughters.

I am very aware that intent does not diminish impact, you can hurt people accidentally, but I do firmly believe that Penelope a literal child and did not act out of malice.

All that being said, I don’t think the relaxed and forgiving reaction at the end of s3 from the queen and the ton was in character or proportionate at all but also we didn’t really get to see much of their reactions so will be interesting to see how s4 plays out.

TLDR; Penelope was a literal child in s1, and nothing can ever convince me that she didn’t write about lots of other people in the ton beside the Bridgerton’s. That’s just not relevant to a show called Bridgerton. Most of Marina’s problems are on Portia, not Penelope.

[sappho-shalom]

question for jumblr!

hi!!! to start this off with a disclaimer, i am not jewish; i'm currently converting. i'm also in college right now and taking history of western civilization which involves learning about the hebrews in judea (i feel weird saying hebrews but i believe this is just the historical term and isn't offensive to jews - if it is, let me know! this is also something i was curious about). my professor is also christian so i don't really trust her judgement on this lol (i'll go into more detail about how much i don't trust her judgement later and why).

so, my professor (and most historians as far as i know) use the tetragrammaton to refer to the jewish g-d. personally i don't understand why they don't just say g-d as they would with the christian g-d (especially since it's, like, based on our g-d?) and so my anxiety-ridden ass somehow worked up the courage to ask my professor this and she replied with (kind of condescendingly but this might just have been my imagination) "because it's the hebrew term for g-d. it means g-d in hebrew" or something along those lines. at this point (i have awful anxiety) i was overheating just from asking the question so i didn't say anything else and was just like ok 🥴 and left. but, like, if you want to use a hebrew term why not use hashem or ad-nai (although this one could also be dicey but probably less so than The NameTM)? to me, it just seemed pointless and unnecessary to say the tetragrammaton when i feel like most people are aware of how jews feel about that name. (to be fair my professor isn't jewish so i suppose she is exempt from our ~frivolous beliefs~)

anyways, TL;DR: should historians/teachers/professionals use the tetragrammaton when referring to the jewish g-d? is this just me being chronically online and/or not knowledgeable enough on the subject? i'm genuinely curious.

[lightandfellowship]

In honor of the finale anniversary coming up, I’m sending you a deep question:

What do you think is the main theme/message of Dark Road? Or, alternatively, what theme of the story resonates with you the most?

That's a good question. I can't say I'm the best at identifying this sort of thing, but I'll try.

I see two main themes. The first is what I believe to be the more overt "thesis statement" of the game, the one line of dialog that both references the title of the game (and a good title will usually try to convey a facet of the Main Theme of the work) and also is telegraphed as being really significant because it gets said directly before the title card.

"Your world can change in an instant. Sometimes all it takes is a single step." [fade to black] KINGDOM HEARTS —Dark Road—

I have a post sort of outlining the various ways this idea manifests in the game, but at its core I think it's just saying that your worldview can be drastically altered (for better or for worse) if you just take the initiative to seek answers. I think you see this theme reiterated by Heimdall and Baldr near the end of the game, too. Heimdall: "Your lives are not ours to judge, but yours to lead. Broaden your horizons and find your own answers." Baldr: "Seek answers...to the unjust ways of the world...to the darkness." Considering this is the Xehanort game, having the thesis statement revolve around self-determination, expanding your world, and the pursuit of knowledge makes sense.

As for the second main theme, probably something along the lines of: "light and darkness aren't so different but the continued belief that they are results in an endless cycle of unnecessary conflict and tragedy that could've easily been avoided if people were just more open-minded and tried to better understand each other." Like almost every awful event that happens in this game can be traced back to this flawed belief causing the characters to act in a certain way that seals their doom.

Eraqus is openly and unashamedly anti-darkness in front of Baldr which seems to make Baldr's anxiety about his sister abandoning him grow. Baldr being scared of what might happen to him if he's left alone with his darkness, along with feeling like Hoder's light is the only thing redeeming him, causes him to chase after her into Enchanted Dominion, subsequently getting her killed (in a situation that wouldn't even have existed had Hoder not made the rash decision to go after the dark being, Maleficent, all by herself). His utter dependence on her now-extinguished light makes Baldr's darkness spiral out of control and primes him to be manipulated by a dark being who's taking advantage of his vulnerable mental state to further its own goals. Oh, and Odin kept Baldr isolated in what appears to be solitary confinement for a week because of his darkness situation, which just made everything ten times worse. Baldr's grief and directionlessness makes him decide that the world is too rotten to exist anymore, which compels him to kill all of his friends in order to destroy that world and end it all. And things get so bad that a brother and sister who love each other feel like they have no choice but to kill each other because their differences are just too large and they're never going to understand. Literally all of this could have been avoided if Hoder wasn't tasked with being this "flawless and pure" beacon of light and Baldr wasn't made to think his darkness was Bad and Scary and Unacceptable.

Then there's the upperclassmen. Hoder, Heimdall, Helgi, and Sigrun dying to darkness is what convinces Vidar, Vala, and Vali that darkness is absolutely evil and needs to be destroyed forever via Kingdom Hearts (with the added benefit of Kingdom Hearts hopefully purging the darkness out of Baldr and sparing him). And they're so focused on their plan to summon Kingdom Hearts and destroy darkness that they don't even care that innocent people and entire worlds might get hurt in the process. Nor do they even care to ask Baldr if he wants his darkness to be purged (given what happened to Ven when Xehanort removed his darkness, it's not exactly the type of thing you should forcefully do to someone.) Which, it turns out, summoning Kingdom Hearts wouldn't have destroyed darkness anyway, at least according to Darkness Baldr, so it truly was a pointless endeavor that was only going to cause harm. Again, the upperclassmen might not have pursued such a misguided and extreme plan if they hadn't been convinced by their upbringing and circumstances that destroying all darkness was undeniably a Good Thing.

In actuality, this second main theme isn't just implicitly conveyed by the plot's events, it gets stated pretty directly by Heimdall, Helgi, and Sigrun during their conversation with Xehanort and Eraqus in the Underworld. They talk about how, after they ended up in the Final World without their bodies, they realized that the darkness and light in people's hearts might not be so different after all, and that everything is a matter of perspective and personal beliefs. Quite a change of heart coming from people who were raised to believe the exact opposite, especially Helgi who was the most vocal about not approving of darkness and who was willing to use brute force against those he disagreed with (you see the "seek answers and your worldview might get drastically altered" theme crop up again here.) It's hard not to believe them when they experienced something as spiritual and eye-opening as the afterlife, which gives credence to what they have to say about light and darkness, and emphasizes all the more that the narrative is using them to convey a Truth to the audience.

Anyway, it makes sense that these two concepts would be major themes of the game since there's some synergy between them. The answer to the question "how do you prevent the tragedies caused by the light vs. darkness stuff" is...knowledge. Expanding your world. Connecting with others. Being open-minded and compassionate. Taking the initiative to try new things. Being committed to seeking truth/letting your worldviews be challenged instead of stagnating in your biases. Characters like Eraqus embody the opposite of this and are examples of what not to do. Eraqus refuses to open his mind or budge from his beliefs. He takes almost no steps to change for the better (or rather, doesn't understand what the right steps are.) His world is small, and as a result he unknowingly causes harm to the people he cares about to a catastrophic degree, perpetuating the cycle.

Xehanort sort of has the opposite problem? He lets his experiences and the MoM's influence change his beliefs for the worst, losing a lot of the nuance and integrity he already had in his youth. Any pursuit of truth gets twisted and replaced with him selectively believing the things that support his condemnation of the world and prop up his status as the chosen one ("[People] believe what they want to believe.") He starts to see "change" as being the only way to save the universe, but specifically the sort of "change" that means destroying and recreating the universe entirely. He succeeded in broadening his horizons and explored the entire span of the world, yet deemed it rotten to its core, unfit to exist. The knowledge he gained became a reason to feel superior to everyone else, instead of a reason to feel kinship. His ability to empathize just became a way to manipulate others.

[asterjeje]

Lunar Knight and Meta Knight first meet:

Lunar Knight then began to rant about every legend, myth and rumor he ever heard about Galaxia, who obtained Galaxia and all knowledge he knows of the sword. Meta Knight stands confused and teared by the decision of escaping the wraps to take his sword back or wait till Lunar finally hushes up. Because let's be honest, as long as your not actually evil, Lunar would be more annoying(or fun) than dangerous.

"Are you done with your unnecessary tangent of a rant!?" Meta Knight snapped.

"Aw don't be so sour, bub. Hey! Tell me about yourself why don't you!" Lunar replies, finally returning the sword and untying him.

Hm, guess Meta Knight's previous expectations of Lunar was quickly disproven. No need to battle with someone who isn't as much of a "cryptic" threat like the townspeople explained.

Extra info about Lunar:

He never stepped into the towns, always living it out in the nearby forests. Which also means he has barely tasted much food he hasn't poorly cooked himself made from whatever edible resources in the forests. He also haven't had much conversation with other people except with "Luna" so he tends to talk a lot and ask a lot of questions!

[zalrb]

PLL 1x12 Review - As Per Anon Request

*Pulls off sticker to see A's note on her cast* Oh God, it's still there. Of course it is, Hanna. Pull yourself together.

Why didn't they just draw a big heart and colour it in over the message or something?

"Hanna, we were days away from a foreclosure." Sis, where is the ALIMONY

Why are you implicating your daughter? I don't know, man, sometimes it's OK to have a parent act like a parent and be like, you're a child, this is none of your business, stop asking questions, go to your room.

Toby needs a haircut.

"My parents have been acting weird." "Define weird." "Whispering. Closing doors. Changing the channel when Ellen comes on." LMAO. Awful.

Remember when Ezra thought that if he switched schools then no one would care if he was in a relationship with Aria?

Ezra always looks like he's a second away from killing her too. I just can't with these two.

Of course Christmas is just going to use his knowledge for blackmail instead of sending this man to jail.

And I like how Christmas is the villain for doing this and not Ezra for being in a relationship with a minor?

"He's not at ALL who you think he is." YOU ARE A PREDATOR??

Oh my god, Jenna isn't ALL in black??

Because that girl wears more black than Lucas Scott and it's Lucas' "favourite colour".

Spencer looking at Alex like Yas looking at Rob scratching those lotto tickets.

This friend group makes no SENSE.

Lucas showing up just to be a dick is ugh. Go. Away.

I like how none of Hanna's friends are hanging out with Hanna who was ambushed with a party.

I mean, I don't like Christmas, but he isn't the villain here, writers, the 20something teacher is, like I don't know what you want me to do.

They think Christmas ran Hanna over with his car and they just leave her in the house with him.

"It's like fighting a kid that needs a telethon" lmaooooooo

"Breaking news, princess, not everything is about you." YOU ARE AT HER HOUSE, LUCAS. Jesus, what are you, an unhinged anon?

"YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT" oh lord, here come the incel vibes.

"Please. Don't make me like you. It's too hard."

"If he is who he think he is, what are we prepared to do about it?" You think he tried to kill your friend, guys.

"You could chain me to this porch, and I would still never touch you like that again." This entire storyline is weird.

Leaving a girl with a broken leg to clean up her own house after you trashed it is wild.

She is way too calm about her stolen money being gone.

Spending so much time on seeing A put bills in the piggybank is so unnecessary.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Breaking Bonds Ch. 4

Glossu Rabban "The Beast" Harkonnen x F! Reader

Chapter Summary: While Rabban is in denial, even dangerous foes grow impatient. Warnings: Angst, slight manhandling A/N: I hate this chapter with a passion idk why it was so hard to write for me. I just gave up, here ya go. 😩

"No one is born evil. People must learn to hate. And if they can do that, then they can also be taught love - for love comes more naturally to the human heart than the opposite."

[Previous Chapter]

Every day is the same here on Giedi Prime - for you at last.

Today would be an exception however, since you had been summoned to an audience with the Baron himself. Suddenly the absence of your husband felt more like a disadvantage than a break...

Rabban was currently far away on Lankiveil, your beloved homeworld. He would never take you with him on these long travels, claiming you'd only be dead weight and an easy target for assassinations.

You presumed it was another form of abuse to keep you separated from what was left of your family, but honestly you were glad - because even though you missed them painfully, you wouldn't want to accompany the Beast tormenting your people.

Dreading the confrontation you hoped that the maids would take their time adorning you, so you could mentally prepare for what's to come.

They dressed you up like a porcelain doll, always in some kind of black attire and with an unnaturally pale shade of makeup - a pathetic attempt at making you blend in with those awful people.

What could the Baron of all people want from someone like you?

This man was an enigma - a macabre personification of greed. He was probably the most ruthless, sick and twisted of all Harkonnens...

...and also the one whose influence turned your husband into the sociopathic killing machine he is now.

Everyone on Lankiveil knew the story about how Rabban became the 'Fist of House Harkonnen': Glossu Rabban was born and partially raised on your homeworld. His mother was a Bene Gesserit and also part of the influental native 'Rabban' family - and yet he shared nothing but disdain for his birthplace.

The former count of your planet, his father and the Baron's brother, was a surprisingly righteous man. He had ruled over Lankiveil with only it's best interest in mind, sparing the populace unnecessary cruelty as long as they'd fulfill their obligations.

Rabban however - as the tales from your elders said - was already born a monster.

Even his own parents, though loving him dearly, started fearing their instable son and his sheer insatiable urge for destruction and violence. And when the time came that he was pronounced 'Nu-Baron', being called to Giedi Prime in order to learn under his uncle's wing, all hope was lost...

...since at his return, Glossu was completely out of control, scarred both mentally and physically.

Only frations of the agony he underwent were whispered on Giedi Prime, what inhumane measurements his uncle had used to scatter Rabban's mind and form a perfectly obedient puppet.

Warped through the time spent under his uncles care, he had forsaken all the teachings his parents had so desperately tried him to embrace.

The list of his crimes exceeds your knowledge and contains basically everything one could imagine. Well, they don't call him Beast for nothing.

It pained you to admit, but despite his atrocious deeds your heart was breaking for your husband - what he could've been, if not for his upbringing.

That made you wonder: Lately, Rabban's behavior had shifted drastically.

Ever since his recovery he seemed to...hesitate. Refrained from laying hands on you or any other ruthless actions. Left you alone most of the time - no, he was actively avoiding you.

Could it be your actions have caused him to have a change of heart, as far as that's possible for someone like him?

Maybe that's just wishful thinking, though - most likely he was just lulling you into a false sense of security to strike soon after.

"One of your maidens has informed me that your monthly bleeding started again."

The Baron's words shook you like a hammer to the forehead, betrayal in your gaze as you locked eyes with the maid that merely did as she was told in order to survive.

Before you could possibly explain yourself, the hideous man would continue his lecture - both irritated and grossed out that he had to bother himself with this matter. "I couldn't care less about the affairs of my nephew's bedroom, but the Order of the Bene Gesserit has started asking questions."

Still kneeling down out of respect - and mainly fear for your life - you wanted to bargain for more time. "M'lord Baron, I-"

A single gesture of his hand cut you off and you immediately complied. It was hard to put into words, but everything about this man made your alarm bells ring. His way of talking was mellow and sophisticated, but he wouldn't even try to hide the malice behind it.

All you could do was hope for his mercy.

"I understand you find my nephew appaling" he explained while loudly chewing his food - talk about disgusting. "But you need to invite him to lay with you for as many times as necessary. Such is your marital duty."

Yes: As long as the Bene Gesserit were expecting you to bear them children, your life would be spared either way.

Not even the Harkonnen would dare to mess with the Order.

"B-But I-I..." So many thoughts were running simultaneously through your mind, but there was no use in explaining your situation. No way he'd take your side - and even if he believed you, the Baron couldn't be trusted. "I understand. Soon, M'lord."

"A doctor will make an appointment with you at the end of this quartal" he informed you, two guards already preparing to guide you back to the chambers. "Shall you not be with child by then, we'll find out if there's an underlying issue...and you know which consequences are tied to it. You may leave."

Still trembling when you arrived at your only safe haven on this planet, your facade immediately dropped as you curled into yourself and submitted to your panic.

Over those past weeks you had desperately offered yourself to Rabban, and every single time he had declined.

The guilt of being responsible for the suffering of countless random women he would rage himself out on instead of you was already crushing enough...

...but now you also had to fear for your own safety, shall you fail to bring forth a heir.

"Have you even stepped outside this room since I left?"

Rabban's greeting cut through the silence long after your breakdown, making you realize just how much time had passed. Sometimes it was hard to tell, on a planet where no sunlight ever hit the surface.

Usually you'd jump at your husband's voice, yet right now you felt almost jubilant being able to settle this issue.

"I rarely leave our home" you admitted shyly, gifting him a welcoming - and almost convincing - smile. "It's unsettling out there, without you at my side."

Indeed, all of those Harkonnen soldiers patroling the hallways painfully reminded you of the war and what it - no, what they made you lose.

Neither the Baron, nor the court or even the servants acknowledged you as one of them. Their aversion due to your heritage was no secret, yet other than subtle looks or whispers they treated you with rather neutral respect.

Your husband was simply too feared even by his own kin, so harming you was out of the question.

All things considered, you held a very high status thanks to your ties to the Beast. It was a luxurious life, at least superficially. And yet excruxiatingly lonely - like a bird in a golden cage.

And still you prefered to isolate yourself, staying in the security of your room to read, thus had even become fluent in their language in no time.

Rabban narrowed his eyes at you, seemingly doubting that statement - to be fair, he was not really the type of person others claimed to feel safe around.

Yet over time you had become at least civil with each other - might even say there was a somewhat mutual understanding.

"Let me help you out of that armor" you offered, realizing he was still in full - bloodied - battlegear. Better try not to think about who those stains belongs to...

Your husband flinched at the sudden invasion of his personal space, yet in the end accepted the gesture without further struggle. He even tried to make himself appear smaller as a sign of goodwill - a sheer impossible task for a man of his calibre.

His eyes would never leave you as you worked on the leather straps of his chest, muscles tensing under your touch. A deep breath escaped his throat, relaxing at the way your scent filled his nostrils, the feeling of your fingers dancing across the fabric and barely ghosting the skin underneath.

Rabban would rather drop dead than to admit it, even to himself - but he missed you dreadfully.

Slowly but steadily he grew fond of the way you were always at his side, indulging in your little acts of kindess despite the circumstances.

You began lingering in the back of his mind, invading his thoughts even when you weren't physically there - like an itch one couldn't quite reach.

No wonder he began killing more frequently, more erratic since you stepped into his life.

It's a need that must be met when the noise in his head becomes too overwhelming, when his muscles itch and his nerves felt like they were struck by lightning.

Holding back his destructive urges for your sake surely went against his nature.

"All done" you cheer clasping your hands together, and Rabban internally whines as your touch leaves him. He never felt like this before - so pathetic and needy.

Why now? And why with you?

You were a plain and inferior creature, there was absolutely nothing special about you at all.

Rabban on the other hand was the member of a main house, feared among the whole known universe. He could quite literally do as he pleased, with everything and everyone he wanted...

...then why was he still drawn to you like a moth to the light?

There is a saying that a person who has nothing to yearn for loses purpose in life - and without purpose, will eventually lose their mind as well.

Harkonnens had become so obscenely rich that their materialistic wealth turned them insane. They indulged in different facets of violent perversion, having compeltely discarded all moral and humanity in their shallow lives.

And yet...

"You got quite comfortable around me, huh?" he remarked, giving it his utmost to remain intimidating but failing miserably.

"Maybe we simply got used to each other" you chuckled bluntly, "Why, is that something bad?"

"No" he crossed his arms and grinned mischievously, "Was thinking of going easier on you anyway. My uncle warned me. He would be furious if you'd take your own life just because I went too overboard."

Oh, so that's the reason.

You felt almost sad that you were proven right: His changed attitude meant nothing - Rabban was still the same, selfish and opportunistic person.

Either way, now was your chance. "Concerning your uncle-"

"Here." It seems he was so deeply buried in thought that he didn't even hear what you've been trying to say.

You almost failed to catch whatever Rabban threw towards your lap, and when you recognized the item you were shocked to say the least. "Where did you-"

"Just take it and let me unwind in peace" he growled, sounding annoyed yet still on edge for your reaction. "It's been a long travel, so be quiet now."

Back during his campaign on Lankiveil, Rabban was desperately trying to distract himself from those nagging thoughts about you. So at some point, he decided to went out for a nightly hunt.

Laying waste to a small village, taking all that's not nailed down. Killing everything that moved, animals and humans alike - at least that was the plan.

When he and his men strolled across the lively market of the town, it fell dead silent. He realized there was some kind of festive going on, and decided if you weren't able to enjoy it then neither of them would...

...yet just when he was about to break hell loose, he spotted a familiar trinket on one of the sale-tables.

It was similar to yours - he accidentally broke the piece during one of his regular anger fits. He remembers your reaction precisely, the way your bottom lip was quivering during your failed attempts to restore it.

The saleslady was quite frightened when he interrogated her, explaining to him that this day was a celebration of Lankiveil's new year - and the trinkets were gifts given to your most beloved as a symbol of your bond.

Your husband took the piece without payment, none of the natives daring to object let alone make any sound. They naively hoped to avoid their doom with this gesture, yet soon after Rabban told the soldiers to wreck the place and treat themselves to whatever. He was almost tempted to spare them, but showing mercy would mean losing face in front of his men.

Rabban himself however wasn't eager to join them anymore.

He thought himselr to be incapable of feeling, that all he was doomed to know were negative emotions.

And on that day he had learned yet another, different form of anger - jealousy.

Neither envy nor greed, just the stinging question why you possessed a neckalce meant for lovers only.

Did you have a lover before you were ripped out of your old life and placed into his?

The Beast watched you without further comment, seemingly indifferent - at least on the outside. You admired the pattern of the jewlery, let your fingers run across the carvings in awe before holding it to your chest, eyes wettening with tears.

His heart drops at the sight - the possibility of his theory being correct.

"Compensation for your old one." Tensed beyong belief, Rabban was pacing on the same spot as if not knowing what to do with himself. "I've learned they mean much to your folk."

"W-Why yes" you stutter, moved by his action but at the same time cautious: You were expecting an ulterior motive, a cruel twist to this gift. Maybe he had plucked it from a corpse of someone you knew, maybe he gave it to you just to smash it again and reenact your misery.

"It belonged to my mother, actually" you eventually opened up, and even though you knew he wouldn't care, having a proper conversation after such a long time of silence sure was enjoyable nonetheless. "My father gave it to her, and she handed it down to me. It was meant as a wedding gift before my department. So I won't forget them, or where I come from."

How ironic, he thought as he felt your confession remove the thorn that was so painfully planted in his chest.

So there was never a lover. It satisfied him, calmed down his racing heart yet only temporarily until you spoke up once again.

"Thank you, Rabban." This was the first time you used his real name instead of his title, and it sounded so smooth with your voice. "I appreciate the sentiment. I'll cherish it!"

Your words make him want to rip out your vocal cords so you lose that bewitching power over him.

Why does he care so much? Why does he - a literal behemoth - feel his knees weaken whenever you gave him the tiniest bit of affection?

The Beast merely harrumphed, tearing himself away from you and that damn smile that's too sweet to be genuine. "I don't care" he lies and hopes you know better than to inquire. "I'll be off-"

"Wait!" Just when you managed to grab the sleeve of his arm, his warrior's instinct caused him to turn around - his fist already in the air, ready to strike.

"...never do that again" he grumbled almost apologetic facing your cowering self, lowering his arm again.

"S-Sorry..." you whimpered, nervously fondling with your hands. "But we-we need to talk. Your uncle said the Bene Gesserit are growing impatient."

"So?" he shrugged, "We're only married for so long. What could they possibly want all of a sudden?"

"They want us to hurry. They want a child." Your husband's eyes widened for a sheer moment, murmuring "Did you tell my uncle?"

"The true reason? The fact that you're withholding from me? No."

"Why?" He gulped several times, but couldn't get that narrowing sensation out of his throat. "There's no need to cover up for me and take the blame."

Seeing a man like the Beast anxious like this made you grow even more worried. Who knows what punishment awaits for those disobeying in the Baron's schemes.

"That's a discrete matter and also none of his concern" you firmly say, taking a more confident stance. "And frankly, with all due respect, but I'd doubt he'll believe me with your kind of...reputation."

Rabban gives a crooked smirk at that jab of yours, but quickly grows serious again. "I'll resolve this, don't worry."

"How? You know there's only one way to do so." Your arms hung loosely, defeated to the sides - and then balled into fists as you accused him: "Or is that what you wsnt, having me rendered useless and disposed of?"

Your husband clenched his jaw, the piercing noise of a cracking teeth filling the room - but nothing else.

"What now, did the great Beast of Lankiveil forget how to talk?" Fury glimmers in his eyes and yet you were unable to hold yourself back, the only thing on your mind being a hopeless future. "I don't understand! Why are you acting this ambiguous? Stop being so cruel and dragging this out, if you want to kill me just do it now!"

With a loud BANG Rabban janked you by the hair and slammed your head onto the nearby tabletop, pressing your cheek onto the wooden surface. He had you bent over, an arm twisted painfully behind your back and the other flailing around to no avail.

"If you insist" His voice was calm, too calm and as unfaltering as his grip. "I can fuck that rebellious spirit out of you until you squeal."

You heared him groan shamelessly, crotch pressing against your behind in this indecent position, your wriggling and writhing only adding to his excitement.

"Then do it." Refusing to cry, you instead pierced him with a look of pure disgust and resentment. "Just get it over with, damn it."

Rabban was taken aback by your bold reaction, certain to have ruined this earlier blissful moment like he would always ruin everything.

"Stop looking at me that way." He shakily breathed out as he turned you around, now lying completely on the table. You felt his harness against your spread legs, about to lose focus as he pulled your hips even closer to his, fingers digging painfully into your thigs.

You wanted to resist, but he easily overpowered you, both hands tightly restrained over your head.

"Stop looking at me like that" he repeats, this time louder. There was something else in his voice other than anger and lust - it was hurt.

"I said STOP!"

When his hands find your throat dissociating became impossible, and your gaze softens with fear. Teardrops run down your cheeks and if it wouldn't be you beneath him, Rabban would certainly be even more turned on.

"P-Please" you choke, clawing at his arms as the lack of oxygen becomes more than a slight discomfort...

...and then, ultimatively, Rabban gave in to his desire.

Your husband's lips crashed over yours, surprisingly gentle yet still demanding as you got trapped in a firm embrace. He moaned - no, whined against your mouth, practically devouring you with this desperate kiss.

His hand ran through your hair, across your cheek to the back of your neck and down your collarbone - pushing you away just when you were about to reciprocate.

The Beast looked devastated, shocked with himself as he stumbled back, looking at you like you were the most dangerous enemy he's ever encountered.

"We'll find a solution" he stammers, already heading for the door. "I'll protect you, I promise by the little honor I have."

What were you even supposed to do, think, feel after this surreal encounter?!

Another one had to take your place tonight - but this time the outcome would be different.

After all, your taste was still lingering on his lips, how he could feel the need between your legs and the way your body melted against his was driving him crazy.

As usual he is overcome with dire ideas as he wallows in the memory of you. How he wants to ruin you, make you beg and moan and cry his name, marked by his blade for everyone to see who you belong to.

In the end however, he comes undone to the mental image of you smiling at him - even though knowing it could never be honest.

"Get the fuck out of my sight." The slave didn't need to be told twice, wouldn't even try to get dressed as she ran for dear life.

Rabban buried his face into his hands, letting out a gutwrenching roar before his fist tore a hole in the next best wall.

Because the true reason he keeps denying you was not because he was afraid for your safety, no - it was because he knew as soon as he'd give himself up to you, it'd mean his imminent defeat.

But his walls were already crumbling, no matter how much he tried to keep it together...

...and as he watches the other woman flee instead of lying dead to his feet, he realizes it's already too late - he was past the point of no return.

[Next Chapter]

[onebadpunspoilsabunch]

I think the young six (or student six) are fine as characters, but the school of Friendship itself was a terrible idea and completely missed the point of the first 7 seasons. Not only that, but the very concept kind of gives off a “let's civilize the savages” vibe.

Yeah, someone pointed that out to me:

I guess Twilight's goal was to bring the other societies to a better level. The in-universe explanation for why Equestria is a more advanced society is because ponies have more inherent magic than the other creatures. And the reason why they have more magic is because they are more friendly and kind... I guess...

So I can understand Twilight's train of thought: create a school to teach the values of friendship to the other creatures while also teaching them about how Equestria got to be where it is (which is through friendship magic), and hope that they will take that knowledge back to their societies so that they will do the same, and get to Equestria's level. I guess on a surface level, I get what she was going for...

Yeah, the ponies are the "white savors" in this scenario. I understand her line of reasoning, but... it's kinda weird 😅 darn.

I like the young six perfectly fine too. Although I have a problem with the way Smolder is written sometimes, specifically her interactions with Spike, the inconsistencies about dragons that come from her, and the way her meer existence retcons Garble's entire character...

I honestly think that the writers seemed to favor her, and gave her special treatment. But maybe that's just me, idk.

But all of these things are the fault of the writers, not the character herself. Also I don't like how Silverstream's personality is way too similar to Princess Skystar (her cousin, from the movie). I actually think her brother Terramar is a more interesting character, and should've been in her place.

I also don't like how the young six are written to look smarter than the main characters sometimes (Non-Compete Clause, School Raze, every single episode Smolder shares with Spike, etc.).

Their existence in the show, along with the School of Friendship, is kind of unnecessary and redundant. I understand that the point of their existence is to show that non-pony creatures are worthy of wielding magic and should be treated as equals, which is a good idea for a story/lesson. They also wanted to show more of the culture/societies of the other creatures, which is a cool world-building idea...

But that entire storyline was really really awful and poorly executed. There were so many better ways they could've done that. They didn't even establish which student is connected to which Mane Six member until the last minute:

And world-building for the sake of world-building isn't as good if the characters don't get something out of it. There are past episodes that show the societies and culture of the other creatures, but the characters go through some development (The Lost Treasure of Griffonstone, Gauntlet of Fire, Not Asking for Trouble, To Change a Changeling, etc).

Season 8 should've been about the characters being called on cutie map missions to the other societies. There are only two episodes that do that (Surf and/or Turf, the Sound of Silence). Not only will they have world-building, but the characters will actually get something from it too.

And maybe at the same time they could've gotten across the anti-racism message without having terribly written villains to fuel the flame, idk...

If they wanted to send the message that non-pony creatures could wield Equestrian magic, they should've just made Spike the 7th Element, and have his Pillar be Scorpan. It would be a better story, and get their lesson across.

It also could've been a metaphor for how in real life, many minorities have important contributions to American society, but they’re ignored and/or forgotten by history.

The story could've been that Scorpan created the Tree of Harmony with the other Pillars, but either Starswirl didn't write it down in his journal (for some reason), or somepony else found it and magically altered all the texts to erase Scorpan's involvement later down the line.

Well, that would've been a better story than the School of Friendship anyway 😅