#what you are describing is labor and i do not dream of labor

[drakeanddice]

DM Burnout is a D&D Problem

This is a trad-game problem and I’m tired of pretending that it’s not.

The implied structure of Dungeons & Dragons in which an authorial/managerial Dungeon Master provides content to a number of passive/experiential players who provide little to no input into the cycle of adventure creation, plot development, and experience tailoring is a direct cause for the phenomenon of “DM Burnout.”

I say implied up there because, like much of the game, the structure of a D&D game is mostly a matter of “you’ll know it when you see it.” Sure there's a section in the book that lays out the responsibilities, but the book's already told you to ignore it if it feels wrong a couple of times by this point. So really, structure is oral tradition and folkways, passed down by a neighbor kid or an older sibling, or the internet. But the basic fundamental principle is fairly inviolate; the players create characters, and the GM creates an adventure for them to go on. The Players play their characters, and the GM plays everything else, to include the impartial arbiter of the fiction. That’s about all we get. It’s not a balanced equation from the get go.

The installation of a single authorial voice, providing the framework for the players, their context, and their boundaries is heavy. That single brain at the table has to create content ahead of time, present it, and then ensure that the players don't stray. Or else, they have to pivot and adapt real-time, either exploiting their prep or improvising whole cloth. In combat encounters, they have to make decisions for multiple characters, enemies and allies both, and often present those choices as rational and plausible rather than optimal--because the oral tradition of the internet veers toward the death of Player Characters being a fail state. And moreover, they must contextualize and narrate the results and moves of not only their pieces on the board, but also often those of the player. Any collapse down to "17 hits, it does 9 slashing damage" is a reduction of interesting tactical combat to slog.

Players are, on the other hand, expected to show up and react. The content is provided, they make choices in reaction to the content, and the game proceeds. If, perhaps, they did some creative writing and crafted a backstory for their character, it is incumbent upon the DM to weave that into the overarching plot. Otherwise, it's purely an exercise in passivity.

DMs are increasingly called on to provide accessories and sensory input beyond just their narrative and roleplaying performance. Maps, minis, tokens, music, soundboards, mood lighting, handouts, item cards, "scent-scapes" apparently. More plates to spin. More steps to the dance that a DM is expected to perform every game night.

I get it. It's fun. It's a labor of love.

But it's labor.

Eventually, you get tired. One week you realize that you're swamped. One week you don't feel like getting a lukewarm reaction to your labor. One week you're not in a good headspace to graciously lose to your players again. You're burnt out, and you need some time to recapture the joy.

I've never heard a story about a D&D player burning out. I've never seen a person, with martyred pride call themselves a "forever player." Though they're quick to say that the DM is also a player.

The DM is not a player. They are providing play. They are a single point of failure, the single authorial voice who provides content and context for every part of the game.

The thing about single points of failure, they wear out faster. Distributing strain preserves a machine. Redundancy is good. D&D is not built this way. It is a simple machine, a single pulley-- a single brain-- supporting the weight of the fiction.

You cannot be surprised that you can't find a service-minded DM to run this game for you long-term. You should not be surprised when the average length of a D&D campaign is 6 sessions. You shouldn't be surprised that many DMs have an antagonistic view of players as agents of chaos. You certainly shouldn't be surprised that a service industry has sprung up around paid DMing almost exclusively around D&D and its inheritors.

Because if you can endure it longterm and not be reduced to a ragged nub by the friction of being the sole authorial voice, you have a marketable skill. Get paid.

Tldr: D&D tells the DM to prep, improv, adjudicate on the fly, and dance for the amusement of passive players and then wonders why DMs are hard to find. DMs do this dance and then wonder why they're creatively worn-down. This is not a place of honor. This is just the service industry in your free-time, and you deserve better.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Bangchan x F!Reader TW : unexpected pregnancy ; Chan is unknowingly (to him) an asshole ; relationship doubts ; a surprise visit from ATEEZ's Hongjoong ; a lot of angst ; and a nice little nana cliffhanger ; Word Count : 4.4k Request : Yes! By a lot of people! A/N : Back to the good stuff!! Angsty Dad Bangchan coming up!! Lets go!!!

A family of your own… It was all you had ever wanted, and surprisingly enough, Chan was fully onboard, sharing that he had similar dreams and that he wanted nothing more than to make those dreams come true with you. 

That’s why, when your period didn’t come at all for two months straight, you were more than happy, and maybe a little bit nervous, to run to the nearest corner store and grab a pack-or three-of pregnancy tests just to see if that gut feeling you had was right. 

It’s amazing how the validation of two pink lines can completely change the way a person feels. One second you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub hoping to see those lines, and then you watch them appear as if like magic, and it’s like your entire world and your whole view of it changes, it becomes brighter, clearer, and you get this warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach that can only be described as the feeling of spring, everything in full bloom and the sun beating down and everything is just… Beautiful. 

You were too excited, you couldn’t possibly wait for Chan to get home, so you sent him a quick text. “Call me as soon as you’re able to. I love you!” You sent it, and in less than a second your phone was vibrating atop the toilet seat. “What’s wrong? You’re alright?” He asked quickly, and you realized only now that your text was probably slightly worrisome, so you took a moment to calm him, to let him know that you were safe and that you were more than alright. 

“I haven’t gotten my period in two months… You know that…” You started off, and he hummed softly to let you know that he was listening and following along. “I finally went down to the store and got myself some tests…” You continued, and you heard the lack of breathing from his end, he was waiting for you to say it, to say something. “Babe… I’m pregnant!” You practically squealed, and you heard a loud thump from his end and a muffled groaning and then someone else in the background asking if he was alright. 

“You shoulda told me to stand up before you told me that! You’re serious!? I’m gonna be a dad?! Are you sure?!” The excitement that you felt was shared, you could hear it in his voice, and you could only laugh at how giddy he actually sounded. “Do you want me to come home? I can leave right now! Baby, I’m so happy! How am I supposed to keep working? I wanna come home!” 

He was rambling, and it was honestly so cute that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. If there was anyone in the world that you knew would make an amazing father, it was him. You weren’t even fully pregnant yet and he already wanted to be home with you, you knew that you had someone that you could depend on throughout your pregnancy, someone that would be there with you, for you, through it all. “S’alright, babe. You don’t have to rush home now, it’s not like I’m in labor or anything. I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You can get back to work now, sorry for interrupting.” 

He gasped loudly, a jumbled mess of sounds coming incoherently from his mouth before he spoke an actual sentence. “You expect me to be able to get back to work after hearing that?! Baby, I wanna come home and be with you! I wanna celebrate! The album can wait, and I know that Jisung and Bin can take care of what I have left for the day anyway. I’m comin’ home now.” 

The excitement was sky high for the first two months, he’d call off work completely just to be with you for doctors appointments, he’d hold those little ultrasound images close to him as if they were the most precious pictures on the face of the earth right now. He was attached to you, and you truthfully didn’t mind it, especially since those two months had given you the brunt of all of your symptoms. He was right there with you though, telling you how amazing you were, how good you were doing, how happy he was that you were carrying his child and how he couldn’t wait to meet his little jellybean. 

By the third month, it seemed like the novelty wore off, although not completely, not yet at least. He became a little distant, not entirely, but he certainly wasn’t clinging onto you as he had been before. You simply assumed that he was just keeping you in mind since you were constantly sweating, your body temperature felt like you had been sitting in the summer sun for hours, although the doc said that was quite normal actually. Maybe he just thought that you didn’t want him constantly hanging on to you as he had been, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong in thinking that. 

It wasn’t until the fourth month when you realized just how distant he had truly become. It almost seemed like he had just gotten bored of it, his initial reaction seeming more and more like a dream with each passing day. He’d give you a kiss goodbye in the morning, but the lingering touches that used to drift along your stomach were long gone, it was almost as if the bigger you got, the more he just… didn’t care. That hurt, more than you’d like to admit. 

Even still, you tried to make excuses for him. He had been working so hard on the album, and now that it was finally announced to the public, he was more stressed than ever. That had you questioning though whether he truly thought of what it would be like to have a child. There was a lot of responsibility, and while you knew that you could do it yourself if needed, you didn’t want to, not when the two of you both discussed this and in the beginning, he made it seem like this was what he wanted as well. 

Although Chan was acting the way he was, you were still beyond joyful, especially now that the most important scan was coming up. You’d finally be able to find out the gender of your little jellybean, and from day one, since he had found out, he said that this appointment was the one he was most excited for as well. There was something so magical about finding out the gender of the tiny little human that you were growing inside of you, and you wanted Chan to be there to share in the magic with you. 

“You’re already ready, that’s great!” You chimed as you stepped out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to head out, and you saw Chan standing in the kitchen fully dressed as well sipping on a cup of coffee as he scrolled through his phone. He glanced up at you, his eyebrow arching in confusion as he looked you over, and you hoped, you silently prayed that he was just joking with you right now. “The doctors appointment is today… It’s the gender scan… I told you that.” 

You tried to keep your voice as light as possible, but the slight tremor was heard by you, and you were sure that it was heard by him as well. “Ah shit… That’s today? Why would you schedule it for today? You know we have an interview today.” He was… scolding you… As if it were your fault that the appointment that you had made a month in advance had fallen on the same day of an interview that you hadn’t a single clue was going on. “You’re gonna have to catch a ride there or something, I don’t have the time to drive across town and make it back to the studio in time.” 

He was choosing an interview over you… over the baby. It was shocking to say the least, and it felt like his words alone had ripped your heart straight from your chest, but what was worse was the way he was looking at you as if this was somehow all your fault. “Right… Sorry…” You mumbled, not wanting to get into an argument with him right now solely because you didn’t want to smudge your makeup with the tears that you knew he’d cause. 

“It’s fine I guess… Just… Think a little more, yeah?” He gave you a meek smile as he walked past you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before rushing to the door. “I’ll probably be a little late coming home today. The guys all want to go out and celebrate the upcoming release so… I’ll probably just stay at the dorms tonight.” It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose, creating this unimaginably large space between himself and you… Or maybe it was himself and the baby, although you weren’t sure why. What you did know though, was that it wasn’t fair, not to you, and surely not to the baby. 

Being with Chan had gave you contact to some other big stars in the business, and most people would assume that you were happy about it solely because of their status, but you saw in people their best attributes, their soft sides, the sides of them that they hid from the cameras, the sides of them that made them more than just idols. One of those people happened to be Hongjoong, who had been the first person to come over and personally congratulate you and Chan when you told him you were pregnant. These past two months he had even become more invested in your pregnancy than Chan was. That’s why he was the first person you called. 

“Am I bothering you? You’re not busy… Are you?” Were the first words out of your mouth as soon as he had picked up his phone. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, watching the time tick down, getting closer to your appointment, and you hated riding in a strangers car, it made you feel uncomfortable, and Chan knew that. You hated that he would willingly put you in the position to do something like that. 

Hongjoongs soft chuckle came through your speaker, and you could hear the other guys in the background talking, but it seemed to grow distant as if he were going somewhere quieter to talk to you. “You’re never a bother, honey.” He cooed out the pet name, one that Chan had said on multiple occasions that he hated, but old habits die hard, and you knew that Hongjoong meant nothing by it. “What’s up? Are you having another craving? I can get you whatever you need.” 

God, you wished it were that simple, but you scoffed, shaking your head as if he could see it. “No… I have a doctors appointment, and I need to get there but… Chan had an interview with the guys today and he needed to be there for it. I just need a ride…” Your voice trembled as you said the words, and for some reason, you felt ashamed having to ask another man for help when your boyfriend, the father of your child, was fully capable of getting you to your appointment and just chose not to. 

“Is he gonna meet you there?” He quizzed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to verbally answer his question, at least, not with words, so you let out a dejected sigh that gave him all the answers he needed. “Alright, let me just get my shoes on and I’ll come pick you up. We’ll make it there in time. Do you want me to stay in there with you? We can go get something to eat when it’s done.” He knew that you wouldn’t turn down food, so you agreed to his offer, a smile slowly returning to your face as you finally relaxed against the couch cushions. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Joongie. Thank you so much.” You chirped, and you heard him laugh again, the sound of it almost contagious. You weren’t sure what you would have done if he wasn’t able to, but then again, Hongjoong would come help you at the drop of a dime simply because he cared about you. Chan saw it differently, but then again, if it weren’t for Hongjoong, you wouldn’t be making it to your appointment today, so in your eyes, he had no right to be jealous or upset about it. 

“A girl!” Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes brightening as a wide smile spread across his face. Not even Chan had gotten this excited during the last two visits, it was a nice change of pace, and a very welcomed change of atmosphere. “That’s so exciting, honey. I’m so happy!” He continued, grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze. 

The nurse who had been wiping the gel off your stomach confusedly looked between you and Hongjoong, clearly wondering why Chan wasn’t there, and why this new man seemed more happy about the gender reveal than the actual father would have been, but you didn’t have the time to go into details about how your entire dream seemed to be spiraling, so you focused your attention on Hongjoong entirely. “Are we celebrating at my favorite restaurant?” You teasingly asked, and when his mouth fell open, you were about to backtrack and let him know you were joking, until his head fervently nodded. 

“Of course! Where else would I take you to celebrate, huh? My honeys deserve the best!” He looked at the nurse who only seemed more and more confused the more he spoke, but he didn’t seem to mind it, giving her a warm smile. “Is she done? I don’t want her to be hungry… Did you eat this morning?” He glanced down at you and you shook your head which had him looking back up at the nurse for the answer to his first question. 

Once the nurse gave you the okay that you were done and printed out the ultrasound pictures, Hongjoong grabbed your purse and helped lead you out of the office, his hand wrapped around your waist almost protectively as you rode down the elevator to get to the first floor. “Thank you for coming with me… It’s so embarrassing to be in there alone sometimes and… Seeing all the other couples kind of makes me sad.” You always felt like you could be so open with him, he was so understanding, and he always listened to everything that you had to say. It was nice to have someone like that in your life, someone unbiased that wouldn’t always take the side of Chan, and while you loved the other guys, they would always lean more towards their leader. 

“If you ever need someone to go with you, if Bangchan can’t make it, you can always call me. Remember that, honey. I’m always here for you.” He reassured you, his hand moving from your waist to your lower back as he led you out of the elevator. “You think I can have one of the pictures though? It’s so neat to actually see her, I wanna show all of the guys.” You nodded your head, climbing into the passenger seat and fishing the row of pictures out of your purse to look through them again. “Looks like she has your nose…” Hongjoong mused as he leaned over the console to look at the pictures with you before playfully tapping the tip of your nose. “She’s gonna be adorable, just like you.” 

He always gave you a warm feeling, but you attributed that to his friendliness and how kind he was, but now, sitting next to him in the car after sharing such an important moment with him, looking him in the eyes… You didn’t know if that feeling stopped there… And you felt guilty for that. Maybe it was just because you were upset with Chan and your mind was trying to find some other source of happiness… It felt wrong though. “Thanks… Joongie.” You murmured, dropping your gaze down to your lap as you fumbled with the edge of the blouse you were wearing. You couldn’t let your mind continue with those thoughts… It wouldn’t be right… Chan was your boyfriend, and you were sure that Hongjoong was simply being kind to you. That’s all it was… 

“You keep ordering more stuff for her when you know she’ll just grow out of it by the second month.” Chan grumbled when he heard the knock on the door, his annoyance with your online baby shopping becoming more and more evident with each package that came in. It’s not like you were spending his money though, you were still working for the time being, at least while you could. “You’re wasting your money.” He continued as you grabbed your phone to see which package could have possibly been delivered today. 

The door knocked again, and now you both were confused because, even if it was a package delivery, they would have only knocked once to let you know that the package was delivered and then went about their day. That, and the fact that you hadn’t gotten any notifications or updates that anything you had ordered was out for delivery. “Well it’s not for me, maybe it’s a new piece of equipment for your studio.” You said, refusing to get up off the couch considering the fact that it took you almost 15 minutes to get comfortable now that you were getting bigger. 

He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up off the couch, mumbling something under his breath about not being able to enjoy a day off. “Look, whatever you’re selling, we’re not interes…ted…-” He trailed off as the door was opened and an excited Hongjoong stood there holding a pastel pink bag with even more pink tissue paper sticking out of the top. “What are you doing here?” Chan asked, looking down at the bag and then back up at Hongjoong who was still wearing the biggest and brightest smile, looking past Chan to spot you. 

“I came to see my honey.” Hongjoong stated as if it were a known fact that he was going to drop by, but neither you or Chan knew he was coming, but for you, it was a welcome surprise. “Can I come in?” He asked, and before Chan could say no, you were getting up off the couch to go meet him at the door instead. “You’re getting so big… In the most beautiful way, honey.” He cooed, looking you over with heart eyes and pink tinged cheeks. 

“Thank you, Joongie…” You whispered, feeling shy under his gaze, but Chans glare had tension filling the air. “Who’s the present for?” You asked, trying to change the subject, and Hongjoong took that as his queue to come inside, going straight past Chan and wrapping his arm around your waist to lead you to the couch. 

The door was slammed shut, and Chans presence alone, even if you couldn’t see him standing behind the couch, you could just feel him there. He was hovering, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of him in waves. “I was at the store and I walked past this outfit, I just thought it would look adorable on little honey pot.” He placed the bag down the floor in front of you and reached out to press his hand against your stomach, chuckling lightly when he felt the baby kick against his palm. “She still hasn’t settled down since you texted me, has she? Don’t worry though, I brought what you said you were craving, maybe that’ll settle her down.” 

You heard Chan huff behind you, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth causing you and Hongjoong both to turn around and look at him. “Oh, don’t let me distract you. Just wondering why you’re buying clothes for my daughter and food for my pregnant girlfriend when I’m literally right here.” His tone was sharp when he said it, and while you had understood the hint, it either went right over Hongjoongs head or he just decided to ignore it. 

“Well I already said why I bought the outfit.” Hongjoong said casually, leaning back on the couch and draping his arm over your shoulder, glancing over his own to keep his eyes on Chan. “And Y/N sent me a text earlier saying that she was kind of uncomfortable because the baby can't seem to sit still, so I thought that I’d bring her her favorite snack. I don’t see anything wrong with that…” He turned to look at you. “Do you?” 

The air felt so thick, you could barely breathe, but truthfully, you didn’t see a problem with Hongjoong helping you out, so you shook your head no. “I really appreciate you coming over and bringing me these things. Thank you, Joong. It means a lot.” You gave him a warm smile, and he leaned in to press a quick peck to your temple. 

It was a shock to you, but what was more shocking, what had you practically jumping out of your seat was the sound of Chans hands slapping against the back cushion of the couch. “I need to talk to my girlfriend and you-” He pointed to Hongjoong, not even caring at the moment just how rude the gesture was. “You need to leave.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand, and for the first time since Hongjoong had been there, it seemed like he was finally getting the hint. 

That didn’t stop him from grabbing your hands and looking at you with his dark, almost black eyes, that looked at you so softly right now, with so much concern. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked, ignoring Chan completely at this point, his thumb brushing over your knuckles to try to keep your attention on him. You quickly nodded your head, and while he didn’t believe it, he couldn’t really do much either. “Text me if you need me, you know I’m always here for you, honey.” 

Chan didn’t have to lead him to the door, Hongjoong went there himself, and you really wished that you could have gone with him because now you were the direct target of Chans anger, his eyes like daggers staring right through you. “You wanna tell me why some other guy is buying clothing for my child? Why he’s going out and getting my girlfriends snacks? I’ve been here all fucking day and you haven’t said shit to me! I could have gotten the food for you!” 

It was jealousy, that’s all it was, and it was so hypocritically funny that you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh for fucks sake, Chan. You haven’t spent a fucking dime on her! You don’t give a shit about me or the baby. Don’t pretend to start now just because your ego is bruised.” You snapped back, and you watched as he shook his head, his eyes narrowing even more now. 

“Is she even mine?! Why should I spend any of my money on her!? You’ve got Hongjoong out here acting like he’s the one who fucking knocked you up!” You blinked a few times, letting his words fully process in your head. He was not only accusing you of cheating on him, but accusing another guy of fathering his baby. Surely it must be guilt, knowing that you were right, but that didn’t make you any less pissed off. 

“Do you ever think he’s acting that way because he feels bad?” You asked, and Chans face scrunched up as he let out a scoff. “No. I’m being serious right now, Christopher.” He was shaking his head, his body already turning to walk away, and that was the icing on the cake, the final straw. “He’s doing what you refuse to do! I never asked him to do that, he just did because you’ve been blowing off doctors appointments, you… you treat her like a mistake and a burden and she’s not even here yet! You don’t even acknowledge the fact that I’m pregnant anymore unless it’s something that you have a problem with! I needed some kind of fucking emotional support while I go through this, and you sure as hell haven’t been supportive at all! He was there when I needed him… When you decided that your job is more important than the child that you created.” 

He stopped in the middle of the room, you could see how tense he was, his back muscles stiff under the tight black shirt that he was wearing. “Then why don’t you just go be with him since he’s better than me anyway?” He posed. You could hear how heavily he was breathing, you could see it in the way his shoulders rose and fell quickly. He was furious, although you weren’t sure who with at this point. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll text him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” And maybe it was the heat of the moment making you say it, but deep down, you knew you didn’t mean it. Chan was the father of your daughter, he was the love of your life, and even after months of him blowing you off, the future that you imagined with your daughter still had him in it. You wanted to spend your life with him. 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t. So just text him. Just fucking go.” He said flatly, storming off into the shared bedroom and slamming the door behind him. The last thing you wanted to do was go into the bedroom and try to talk to him, you didn’t even want to go in there to get your clothes, so you got up and walked out the front door, running right into Hongjoong who had been standing outside and listening to everything. 

Chan watched through the blinds in the bedroom, watching as Hongjoong led you to his car, helping you in before gently closing the door behind you and then climbing in. He watched and he waited for you to climb back out, but then the car started backing up… And then it pulled off. He had just forced you into the arms of the very person that he was terrified would take you away… All because he was jealous, and he had gotten so distracted with work… He had fucked everything up. The future that he had built with you in his dreams, that he imagined and drew out… It was all thrown out the window and he had been the one to throw it. 

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[cenorii]

Headcanons about Oldsker

I drew him quite a lot, so I managed to form an opinion about him. Yes, officially Oldsker exists only in our heads, but that doesn't stop us from coming up with something about him. Who is he? Read here.

— Of course, my main hedcanon is his appearance:

— I think Oldsker is the perfect version of Wesker, the final stage of his personal evolution. It's not only the result of his personal growth, but also the result of Capcom's labors to make a complete and final version of the character that will include all the notes and previous games, creating a coherent image out of all the vast information there is about him.

— Having limited himself all his life, Wesker was able to go all out after the volcano. Now that he wasn't bound by the confines of Spencer's upbringing, nor held back by the fulfillment of his dreams, he felt free. Now he was like a child who had been told by his parents to "do whatever you want." Wesker, who had never used foul language before, might start doing it. Wesker, who previously didn't drink and despised bad habits, might try them. Long hair and a different clothing style? He's just getting started. He's free and will probe that feeling in absolutely everything. Acting like a silly joker on the street? Easy. Create the image of the urban lunatic around him as a disguise? Oh yes, he likes that. He's free and his name no longer constrains him, because he'll change it too.

— I think Wesker got tired of having the same hairstyle for 50 years, styling his hair every morning, and so on. And he's already 61. Feeling completely free, like a teenager craving self-expression, he will grow his hair out and not care about styling at all. The only thing he will do with his hair is wash it. He doesn't even need a blow dryer anymore, just a towel, because now he loves himself any way he can. And he no longer needs to be "perfect" to like himself.

— He hasn't gotten rid of the habit of wearing sunglasses, but he really needs it to fit in with society. His eyes still tend to glow with emotion, and basically have an unconventional look. It's unlikely that colored contact lenses can override something so unusual.

— He doesn't forget about Chris. For Chris, Wesker's "death" means a lot, thanks to this event Chris realized that his fight was worth the lives saved. But for Wesker, this event is also very important. He has revised absolutely his entire life, changing the way he approaches it.

— Chris is his obsession. Wesker admires him, hates him, loves him, despises him, loves him, and so it is every day… every day is his struggle with feelings he is not familiar with, but tries to understand. Wesker has become free of any restraints, but the walls that were erected around his feelings still stand. And that's why he's such a noob in feelings, he doesn't know what he's feeling or how to describe it. That's why his relationship with Chris is so confused… He created Chris clones for some new purpose, but the purpose is just an excuse for his real attitude towards Chris.

— He continues to pursue his hobby and creates various weapons and names them after himself, paying homage to his "past life". Thanks to "Albert Wesker" he realized what he wanted out of life, and because of him he became the man he is today.

— I like the name Michael Baxter from this theory. I think that even though it's a weird nickname, it would be a great fit for Oldsker instead of his past name that was given to him by Umbrella and Spencer. He'd obviously want to stop being associated with "Wesker" because it's a dirty and disgusting project. But would he want to stop being Albert? Perhaps the name is too catchy and would expose his whole new image. So he would want to change his name completely, renouncing his past self.

— Oldsker hasn't changed, he's just become liberated and free. Perhaps there are scars on his body that have not been healed by regeneration, due to his powers becoming weaker.

— He probably knows Karl Heisenberg. It's unlikely to be any kind of close acquaintance, but they could very well turn out to be conversation partners by correspondence. Karl could be telling Oldsker about Miranda's plans, and Oldsker could be chattering unrestrainedly about Chris and his plans for him.

— Perhaps freedom would turn his head a little and he'd look for himself in completely unexpected directions. How about…writing a novel? Can this Wesker write NSFW about him and Chris? 😳

[coochiequeens]

An update to an older story that’s goods news!

When Jenny Nguyen signed the lease to create her dream bar, she wasn’t sure it would stay open for more than a few months.

But earlier this month, 43-year-old Nguyen’s first-of-its-kind establishment in Portland, Oregon, celebrated its one-year anniversary. Aptly named The Sports Bra, it’s a sports bar where only women athletes appear on the TVs.

Business has been good, despite the niche business model and record inflation sending food and beverage prices soaring. The Sports Bra brought in $944,000 in revenue in the eight months it was open in 2022, according to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It.

It was profitable in that first year of business, Nguyen adds.

“It turns out, it’s pretty universal — that feeling of being a women’s sports fan and going into a public place, like a sports bar, and having a difficult time finding a place to show a [women’s] game, especially when there are other men’s sports playing,” Nguyen says.

Initially, she wasn’t sure the idea would work at all. The vast majority of money and attention historically goes to men’s sports only — a big reason why The Sports Bra was reportedly the country’s first bar to only play women’s sports on TV.

It’s also not the kind of thing Nguyen would ordinarily do: She describes herself as “very cautious, risk averse.” But her obsession with women’s sports and frustration with its lack of representation on television screens drove her to empty her life savings — about $27,000 — and give it a try.

“Me, personally, I thought the idea was brilliant and that [it was] what the world needs,” Nguyen says. “But I had no idea that the world would want it. I just wanted to give it a shot.”

How The Sports Bra went from running joke to reality

Nguyen is a lifelong basketball fan who played the sport at Clark College in Vancouver, Washington, before tearing her ACL. She’s also a longtime restaurant worker who spent three years as Reed College’s executive chef.

In 2018, Nguyen and a group of friends wanted to watch the NCAA women’s basketball championship game. They went to a mostly empty sports bar and still had to plead with a bartender to switch one of the smallest TVs — which played without sound — from a men’s sport to the women’s championship game, she recalls.

Together, they jumped up and down celebrating “one of the best games I’ve ever seen,” Nguyen says, as a buzzer-beating three-point shot sealed the championship title for Notre Dame. Afterward, she was struck by the normalcy of her situation.

″[We’d] gotten so used to watching a game like that in the way that we did,” she says, adding that they’d only find better viewing conditions “if we had our own place.”

Days later, she channeled her disappointment into a hypothetical: What would she name her bar? “The very first thing that came into my mind was The Sports Bra,” Nguyen says. “And once I thought it, I couldn’t un-think it, you know? It was catchy. I thought it was hilarious.”

For years, she joked about it. Then, the fallout from social justice movements like #MeToo and the country’s racial reckoning after George Floyd’s murder left her wanting to make a meaningful impact on the world and her community.

Nguyen, who came out as a lesbian at age 17, says she doesn’t always feel welcome at most traditional sports bars. The Sports Bra could help her, and anyone else who’d rarely felt accepted in other sports establishments, feel like she belonged.

“I thought about, if we can even get one kid in here and have them feel like they belong in sports, it’d be worth it,” she says.

Helping other women’s sports bars get started

At first, Nguyen had her savings, and $40,000 in loans cobbled together from friends and family. That would keep The Sports Bra afloat for three months, based on her cost estimates for labor, inventory and other overhead.

In February 2022, she launched a Kickstarter to raise $48,000 — enough money for an extra six-month financial cushion, to build up the sort of regular clientele any bar or restaurant needs to survive long-term.

To Nguyen’s surprise, the campaign raised more than $105,000 in just 30 days, thanks to a viral article in online food publication Eater. “At that moment, when I was looking at that Kickstarter graph, I thought to myself, ‘This might work,’” she says.

But the money, which came from around the country and world, was no guarantee of success. Actual people in Portland still needed to frequent the bar.

Today, there’s often a line out the door. Women’s basketball icons like Sue Bird and Diana Taurasi showed up, for an event sponsored by Buick, earlier this month. Ginny Gilder, co-owner of the WNBA’s Seattle Storm, has even waited in line to watch her team play on The Sports Bra’s TVs, Nguyen says.

That’s a far cry from the Kickstarter days, which Nguyen says only happened after she was denied business loans by multiple banks and small business associations. The denials commonly cited the high risk of a unique concept run by a first-time entrepreneur during a pandemic, she adds.

Even the bar’s core concept is a struggle: It’s hard to find enough women’s sporting events to fill up the televisions. Only about 5% of all TV sports coverage focuses on female athletes, according to a 2021 University of Southern California study.

Nguyen says she’s taken to reaching out directly to sports networks and streaming services, some of which have hooked her up with access to more women’s sports content. She also spends an inordinate amount of time “scouring” TV listings, a process she likens to “taking a machete and chopping through a jungle.”

But she’s no longer alone. Another bar specializing in women’s sports has opened in nearby Seattle, and Nguyen says she’s in touch with a handful of other prospective entrepreneurs asking her for advice on opening similar visions in other cities.

“I would love to have as many people experience the feeling people experience when they walk through these doors,” she says. “It feels very selfish to keep it to this one building that holds 40 people at a time.”

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — NANAMI x FEM READER

Gojo sets you up with your future husband in the middle of English class.

wc — 700

tags — Gojo’s annoying ass, stay at home husband Nanami, title from manga of the same name 

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. 

Immediately, Nanami comes to the door clad in his pastel yellow apron with little ducks. It matches his hair and complements his pink dish gloves perfectly. 

“I’d hug you but I’m a little dirty at the moment,” he says. 

“Who cares?” You wrap your arms around him to his spluttered protests. 

When he falls suspiciously silent, you look up to see what’s wrong. You follow his soft gaze to the ring on your finger, your arms still looped around his neck. 

“You know I hate owing Gojo anything, but I really am grateful for this one,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

It is thanks to Gojo that you got married, after all. 

In high school, Gojo Satoru was a menace who loves meddling in your love life. He treated you like a little sister, which meant he was also comfortable doing whatever he wanted to you without consequence. 

You should’ve known better than to trust him, but he piques your interest when he asks, “Hey, you know Nanami from our econ class?”

“I do not dream of labor Nanami?” You ask. 

“All jobs are shitty, this is just slightly less shitty Nanami?” Chimes in Yuki across the table.

“Even when I’m asleep the only thing I think about is money Nanami?” From your side, even Utahime is interested in the conversation, a rarer occasion than a eclipse. 

“That’s the one!” Gojo beckons you closer. Of course, you stay right where you are, because you don’t trust him. He crooks his fingers at you again, coaxing, “Come on, come on. Don’t you trust me?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Fine, have it your way,” he says, rolling his eyes. Then, at a volume completely unnecessary and loud enough for everyone within a five mile radius to hear, he all but yells, “You would like Nanami! I’m setting you two up.” 

You would slap him, but he’s faster, catching your arm like he anticipated the blow. He probably did. 

“Gojo, what the fuck?!” You hiss. 

“Shhh, I’m doing you a favor! My two most boring friends, one ambitious, one indolent - you two are a match made in heaven.” 

You squint at him. “Isn’t Nanami the top of our class? He works harder than anyone else, I don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“Okay, but it’s not because he wants to. He hates working, he just wants to live comfortably. You see where I’m going with this?” 

You really, really don’t. 

“God, do I have to spell everything out for you? I really am a blessing to you poor-“ 

“Gojo.” 

“Fine, whatever! Let’s do the math. You want to become a CEO or something, I wasn’t really paying attention when you told me about it. Nanami wants to be a live in housewife who’s only job is to cook, clean, and love his partner. One plus one equals two, he can be your housewife.” 

“I can be what now?” You refuse to turn around, like if you can’t see him, he’ll go away eventually.  He must’ve been summoned by Gojo’s annoyingly loud volume. 

Gojo has no such shame. “Perfect, I don’t even have to go looking for you! I’ll leave you two to it. Use protection or actually don’t, so you can give me godchildren!” 

He dodges your attempt at murder for the second time and skips off, humming to himself. You’re never speaking to him again, you resolve. Nanami’s presence looms at your back, stiff and uncomfortable. How do you break the ice? 

“You…don’t have to be a househusband,” you offer. That is not the way you wanted to start your introduction, but for some reason your mouth won’t stop moving no matter how much you beg yourself to shut up. “We can be double income, if you want, but I’m sure I can make enough for both of us.” 

You’re silently begging the ground to just swallow you up to escape your earthly torment when he laughs. It’s a pretty thing, not like bells or wind chimes as the books describe, but beautiful nonetheless. 

He smiles down on you as he says, “I’m okay being a househusband if you’ll have me.” 

[grunckle]

Some disjointed thoughts on the Void Sea and the subconcious

I really just wanted to write something quickly on this, it’s not so much a theory as it is just a small analysis on the general mood of the ending, with a little contextualizing with in game dialogue.

So the subconscious is such a mysterious yet integral part to understanding the more spiritual/alien parts of Rain World. This isn’t a world in which the eldritch and unknowable lurk in the far reaches of space, but rather appear through our own minds and subconscious.

Echos appear in dream like sequences, where all other life except scavengers (in vanilla) fall asleep.

Karma flowers allow us to contact imagined worlds, other selves, dreams, and memories.

Eating a neuron of an iterator allows us to perceive voidspawn.

Our karma is raised through the mark of communication, which is linked to the brain in some way judging by Five Pebbles’s slideshow.

And, beyond that, plenty of cerebral/brainy imagery and concepts are present.

“Cabinet beasts” (the organ-like worms found in Memory Crypts) are likely some sort or mutated brain tissue, I talk about it more in this post.

Void worms also have a neural texture that covers their skin.

There’s the cut brain tree, which made it back in the game (though pretty unceremoniously) in Downpour.

And then of course there’s iterators, massive brains that are the last long-standing remnant of the benefactors’ civilization, and serve as the main driving forces of the game’s side plot.

I bring all this up just to show how cerebral and subconscious elements are pretty prevalent throughout the game, and it provides some context to my thoughts on the Void Sea.

That being said, I think the Void Sea acts as a collective unconscious, a place where the many worlds and selves of the subconscious coalesce into one, dream-like existence.

Echos appear in dream-like sequences, but are still experienced by nearby scavs. They even have different personalities and reactions to it, some being curious, while others are afraid.

Continuing on this, benefactors experienced the same dreams we do in Subterranean, shown through white pearl dialogue.

“Oh, interesting. This is a diary entry of a pre-Iterator era laborer during the construction of the subterranean transit system south of here. In it they describe restless nights filled with disturbing dreams, where millions glowing stars move menacingly in the distance”

These go towards the idea of the Void Sea and other void related phenomena existing as a sort of collective unconsciousness, experienced through hazy dreams and hallucinogenic plants by many.

But then there’s the “egg” sequence, where you swim in unison with others just like yourself. I think these are the “selves of other planes” mentioned by Moon in the Karma Flower dialogue, and I think that same dialogue is indicative on what the nature of the Void is. It’s detaching yourself from your carnal body and coming in contact with your own subconscious, and possibly the subconscious of others. Think of it like a big mind soup.

Anyway this really resonated with me because I distinctly remember the feeling I had the first time I went through Depths. As the caves around me started melting, it felt like I was descending deeper and deeper into a dream I couldn’t wake up from. That packed with the genuine horror of seeing the worms, and the dreamy ending, it really left a lasting impression.

Halfway through writing this, I realized it’s a bit longer than I was initially expecting, but I hope I managed to convey the general vibe I got.

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

❝so dream, dream your dream❞

➵ “‘because when you’re awake a nightmare awaits.” —❤︎

pairing: vessel x gn!reader

theme: angst ❦ (with comfort), fluff ✿

a/n: this is my first sleep token ficlet, and so i wanted to rest out how well i write for them lmao

cw: reader has night terrors, implied that they had a fucked up life, vessel being mysterious and somewhat teasing but ultimately comforting the reader in the end

┅✦┅

it always hurt to think of those bitter memories

those memories that haunted them in their sleep, awaiting in their dreams like a predator looming over its prey. nightmares that kept had them jolting awake and hyperventilating so bad that their chest hurt.

the feeling of waking up to such awful night terrors was like poison ivy constricting their throat, leaving them hoarse and speechless, almost too stunned to even.

y/n was in that same predicament when they shot up from their bed, cold sweat trickling down their forehead, their breathing heavy and labored.

another nightmare. why did the past have to keep coming back to haunt them?

it was such a dark time for y/n… something they wanted to leave behind and keep deeply buried within the crevices of their fucked up mind. it was such cruel wording, but it was the best way to describe their mental state.

a fucked up mind.

“god i’m such a mess..” y/n muttered softly, putting a hand to their face, feeling the dried tears on their face that they didn’t even realize was streaming down their cheeks.

groaning both out of sleepiness and frustration, y/n grabbed the nearest tissue and started to wipe their face, being a little rough with it due to how irritable they were at the moment.

moments like these just made them wish they could take it all back. say how much they were sorry, how badly they didn’t want to hurt those around them.

it was kind of pathetic for them, really. they fucked up, and yet they’re the ones crying on their own bed.

y/n just sighed softly and pressed a hand against their forehead, sniffling slightly and closing their eyes.

“what did i do wrong?” y/n muttered to no one in particular. that question really was meant for themselves.

but it still called out a commanding presence from behind them.

“nothing, my dear.”

a dark, and somewhat alluring presence emerged from the shadows behind y/n’s bed, making his way behind them and looming over them from behind, carefully observing the person below him.

y/n tried to look up at him, but their tears blurred their vision. they only caught a glimpse of the intricate mask designs, before they felt cold, calloused fingers cover their eyes.

“shhhh… relax, sweetie.” vessel whispered into their ear, his voice velvety smooth and dripping with a dark, mysterious charm.

it was almost haunting, but in a strangely, familiar way.

he always came around whenever midnight strikes the hour, but he’s never usually this… intimate. vessel was a strange, dark force that always came by to mock them with his arrogant superiority, looking down on y/n like a predator wanting to consume his prey.

but this time it was different.

y/n could only let out a meek, choked up hiccup from the sobbing they went though in their sleep, but they didn’t do anything to push away vessel’s touch.

“vessel…”

“relax, baby. i’ve got you … you’re okay.”

vessel gently crept around the side of y/n on the bed, gently laying them back down on the bed while making sure their eyes stayed closed. they couldn’t see him, not when he was being this tender.

he didn’t know what overcame him, usually he was a commanding and mocking presence for them. maybe it was hearing their screams and cries in their sleep that made this mysterious being feel the slightest bit of sympathy that was left in his empty, hollow heart.

“rest now. nothing will hurt you.” vessel whispered to y/n, keeping his hand on the back of their head and letting it gently rest on the pillow.

this is the most he’s spoken to the poor soul. he’s never like this… but maybe just this once, he can be a source of light to their sad, unfulfilled life.

y/n just let out one last shaky sigh, letting the comforting darkness soothe the aching pain that swelled in their heart. that pain that haunted them all the time, was slowly fading away. after a bit, the presence went away, and y/n only felt darkness— their eyes still closed.

but the darkness was comforting.

welcoming even.

it was enough to make them drift off into a dreamless sleep. no nightmares, screaming or crying.

just silence.

but the silence was enough to make them feel alright.

[ror-witch]

Fear

A Weira drabble revolving around the birth of Phobos. Trigger warnings for childbirth, near infant loss, blood, and a canon accurate unhappy ending.

When the doctors tell Queen Weira she is expecting the heir to her throne. She is not surprised, nervous, but not surprised.

It was what she was made for, after all. To rule, and to provide her people with the next ruler. She has known this since she has known anything. She is Queen, her mother was Queen before her and her daughter will be the next Queen. A line unbroken since Leryn.

What she does not know, is what comes next. Everyone she knows tells her what joy will blossom in her heart as the baby grows inside her. She will glow, and not just with the Light of Meridian. It will be a beautiful timing.

But Weira calls them all liars.

(In her head, of course, for a Queen would never do that aloud.)

For in truth, everyday is a new misery. Her stomach revolts and empties without fail every morning, and sometimes afternoons, evenings as well, and despite assurances that this will eventually stop, it does not. Her limbs weaken, struggling under the growing weight she carries. Random bursts of pain strike in her muscles like lighting, and her hips ache everytime she moves, enough even when she takes to bed at night it brings her no relief.

And, of course, these miseries compile under the burden of Queenship. Because, even now, her precious daughter is not—can not be paramount. Meridian is. Her duties can not stop, no, can not even slow down, lest her world fall to ruin without her guiding Light.

Even as her belly swells with life, she is a Queen first.

Mother second.

But through it all, she never complains (well, again, never aloud). It’s what she is made for, after all, she tells herself.

She’s lost count of how many times she’s told herself that.

But in her darkest moment, she breaks with the line of Queens and whispers, “I hope you never have to go through this, little one.” Then she balks at her words, ashamed, wishing to snatch them back.

It’s what they are both made for. Her and daughter.

Her daughter. The Princess. The future Queen of Meridian. Duty comes before all. They must remember that.

Well, they were right about one thing. Through all the angony, one thing keeps her going. The thought that soon she will hold this little one, and she will gaze up at her green eyes just like her own. That is how she imagines her anyway, for her daughter never has Zaden’s lilac blue eyes in her dreams, only her own.

She often talks to her at night, when the world is quiet. And for a moment, a brief, private moment of weakness, she is not a Queen but just a mother. She tells her daughter that she hopes she finds love, not just a political match. She tells her she knows she will be a natural with her magic, not like her mother, she jokes. How beautiful she will be, the most beautiful.

Her little Princess.

She loves her more than anything already. Even though she knows she should not.

As the term draws to an end, she struggles on a name. Zaden and the Council provide their opinions, strong names, soft names, historical names, but none feels right.

They decide to wait, to see her face and gift her with a name that will suit her.

And the days grow closer to that day when Weira shall finally look upon her daughter's face. Until, one day, a day without remark save for the painful twisting of her womb and a small gush of water, she begins her arrival.

Labor, the Queen finds, is also not how it was described to her. There is pain, yes, undeniable, indescribable pain, but there is something…more bearable in it than the rest of the pregnancy. Perhaps it is simply because the end is finally in sight. They say many find resolve at the end of a marathon and so it is with her. The worst part is quite honestly all the attendants flustering about in a panic. Weira can not abide such hysteria under ideal circumstances, and now she finds it nigh unbearable. If she possessed any clue of what she was doing without them, she would have sent them away.

Indeed, when the time comes to bear down and push, a time when, at least so she was told, many women lose their nerve, Weira feels like she is finally handed back the reins of this pregnancy.

And then the horse reared.

Her daughter arrives with one long, hard, final push. The world spins and fills with a hazy light. The relief she feels is borderline delirium, stronger than anything she has felt to this point.

Then another even stronger, more primal urge rocks her.

Where is my baby?

There is nothing but silence in the air.

She anxiously pushes aside her bangs, sticky with sweat, to look past her. The attendants are huddled around their leader, who holds a small, unmoving bundle.

The terror she feels at the sight manifests as a crack in the air, and a rumble of thunder on an otherwise sunny day.

“What is wrong with her?”

Her voice breaks and trembles as it has never done before. Zaden grabs her shoulders for support, but she does not even realize he’s there. There is silence for an unbearable moment and then the one holding her baby seems to find her words.

“The babe is fine, Your Majesty, it is only…”

The lead attendant wets her lips, but does not bother delay, fearing the Queen's magic will act without intention once more.

“The babe is a boy, your Majesty.”

Her husband gasps. The other attendants look at the ground, ashamed for her.

Weira doesn’t feel any surprise, any shame—just that need. The need to hold that which is being withheld from her.

There in the birthing bed she is a mother; not a Queen.

Her first mistake.

“Just give me my baby!” She snarls, her magic snaps again and the baby is all but tossed into her arms.

She—he, lands with a soft plop, still silent, but awake. Beautifully awake. He looks up at her with green eyes exactly like her own. Tiny and perfect and more wonderful than anything in the entire universe. She is his everything, and he is hers. And in that moment, that single breath, everything is perfect and right. Gender be damned. Everything else be damned.

Then the moment was broken.

Again, the baby is snatched from her, and before she can even demand an explanation or protest, there is a sea of red flooding out from her.

She doesn’t remember much about what happens after. It takes a few hours before she comes back. She remembers bits and pieces—pain, crying, and blood.

So much blood.

But she is alive, and that is all that matters.

Until it isn’t.

The hemorrhage leaves her weak, drained. She can barely lift her arms, she feels like she’s fighting against tar just to lift her head. She holds out her shaking arms for her precious baby but her attendants share uneasy looks. She orders them to give him to her anyway.

He feels as heavy as brick now, almost too heavy. She struggles to hold him. But he just stares up at her with those beautiful green eyes and she somehow finds the strength. If only for a few moments at a time. The rest of the time he sits in his bassinet next to her, quietly watching her. Only when Zaden finally dares to hold him does he squirm and fuss, and Weira shrieks at her trembling husband to return him to her at once.

The attendant’s note her weakness, and they, more experienced than her, offer solutions.

And Weira hates them for it.

“Perhaps we might find a wet nurse for the…Prince, your Majesty?”

“No!” Weira all but snarls; as feral as the Beasts that still haunt her land. The Light of Meridian does not pawn off her child to another. She is all nourishing, all giving—life itself, as her mother told her.

Only her body has not received that message. It’s weak and selfish, too busy making blood to restore her, rather than milk to feed her baby. He tries, he’s good—so good, and he tries and tries, quietly and gently for nearly a day of her own stubbornness until his body betrays him too and the hunger cries start.

And then they never stop.

Guilt gnawing at her raw bones, Weira finally hands him over. The wet nurse comes, and while disappointment still hangs heavy, she tries to ignore it, for at least her beloved baby will eat now. That is far more important than her pride.

But he doesn’t.

His hunger cries change into full throated cries of terror, as the wet nurse picks him up, and he scratches at her breast with his tiny little fingers and pushes away, refusing her.

This goes on for an entire day.

Zaden, who she would never have considered unkind or obtuse until that moment, says, without thought,

“It seems he just wants you, my love.”

She screams at him till they are both pale in the face, and tears are falling from their eyes.

When they set him back in her arms, the crying only lessens. He is starving and Weira can not help him. She who sustains an entire world can not provide for her own blood. Her beloved boy who looks up at her with tear filled eyes and soft cries and wonders why his world is not giving him what he needs.

The Council comes later that same day, as is tradition, unaware of the developments, to wish her congratulations on the birth of the Princess.

Their congratulations die on their lips when the truth is revealed.

There has never been a first-born Prince until now. Whether through some nefarious design or a magic she simply did not know, every first child born of the reigning Queen has been a girl. Until her.

She has broken the line of Queens.

And it is all anyone cares about.

Not her baby who cries are starting to quiet, the red gone from his cheeks, tears are no longer being produced in his eyes.

He’s dying.

Her baby is dying.

That is all Weira cares about.

The Council, Zaden, and her attendants try to comfort her in the only way they know how.

“Perhaps, it is for the best, your Majesty. This baby, after all, is no Princess.”

“We can try again, my love.”

“A baby that will die of stubbornness like that would never thrive, your Majesty. Best we worry about you for now.”

They want to take him away, so she does not have to see what comes next. Weira panics, and buries her face into his tiny body. Will they slit his throat to ease his passing? Bludgeon his head like a rabbit? Smother him? Or will they let him suffer alone and scared, wanting only to feel the warmth of the mother who has failed him till blackness takes him?

When come to take him, she refuses, and they protest,

but she is still Queen, and her word is law.

The baby stays.

Everyone else leaves.

Weira has a plan. It is not a good plan. But she doesn’t care.

Her studies have told her that certain magic can sustain a person more than any food. The lifeblood blood of a planet or a person, or…a heart. Like the Light of Meridian. The birthright that would’ve been his had he been born a female. To allow a male child to interact with the holy magic of the Escanor line is forbidden. The consequences are unknown—but probably not good. Forbidden things are forbidden for a reason.

Weira doesn’t care.

The Weira of two days ago would be aghast with her for even thinking of it. But the Weira who has seized her now only cares about one thing.

He feels like a corpse already in her shaking arms, cold, unmoving, small—so small. Only his eyes, watching her intently give any sign of life.

She pushes aside his swaddle and presses her hand against his tiny chest, his heart beating faintly under palm.

How much, she wonders. She has the power of a sun churning in her veins, what if she burns him? Just a drop? A river?

Then she throws caution to the wind.

And Queen Weira does the unthinkable.

“Take it little one, take it please! Just live. Live.”

Her magic crosses over him like the warmth of the sun on his parlor skin. And he responds instantly. Color returns to his face, and he squirms and wiggles. He can not smile yet, but his face looks so cheerful Weira worries she might melt.

There is an hour, just an hour, where everything is right. She holds her baby, and they simply stare at each other. They are happy. She imagines a world where he grows up, knowing she loved him more than anything. A world where they place a golden crown on his head after she places her last kiss on his forehead.

But as he slips into the sweet escape of sleep, Weira is confronted for her actions.

It is oblivious to anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of magic what she has done. The golden hue of her magic still lies upon his skin, and the air smells of petrichor and roses.

The Council panics, reprimanding her with words so harsh, it is as if they have forgotten she is the Queen. Her attendants hang their heads, and even Zaden looks at her as if he can not believe what she has done, who she even is.

And it is not just anger on their faces, no, it is fear.

Fear that the Heart will be forever corrupted. That their world will die, blackened and withered beyond repair. Weira wants to scream at them that it's just a foul superstition.

But who is to say that it’s not the truth?

Doubt begins to darken her clouded mind. The Queens had never allowed a King before. Surely, there was a reason. What did they know but did not share? What had she done?

Doomed her world? For her own selfish desires? Because she could not-would not remove herself from a hopeless situation?

She begins to understands why Weira the Queen can never be Weira the Mother.

Because Weira the Mother will throw away everything Weira the Queen, and Leryn the Queen, and every Queen in between them has built for her child. And, in this world, that simply can not happen. This world where so many more depend on her, and her alone, she can not weigh one life against them all.

However precious that life is.

And so with one last look into those green eyes, she shakily hands him to the wet nurse. His screams start again, but she orders the wet nurse to take him away with a quivering voice. She covers her ears with her hands as they take him down the hallway.

She tells herself he is of her blood, he will understand why she must do this.

(She hopes he does.)

It was the last time she held her little Prince.

She’s failed as a mother, and she’s failed as a Queen. And so in a world where she can not be both, she chooses to be Weira the Queen, the Queen who so many depend upon.

Later, when they ask what the Prince’s name shall be, all she can think of is the fear on her Council's faces.

The fear that caused her to save his life.

The fear in his screams when she handed him away.

Her fear that made her push him away.

The answer comes without thought.

“Phobos.”

——————

Phobos and Weira are, in my headcanon, two people characterized by their extremes—the very definition of “all or nothing.” Unyielding, and just terrible with emotions. But Weira just focuses it differently, doing what is expected of her even if it destroys her. Whereas Phobos will always choose the selfish option, even if it destroys everyone else

[theprissythumbelina]

So you want to write about horses.

(Part 3! Enjoy this post? Want to know more? Check out So You Want To Write About Horses Part 1 and So You Want To Write About Horses: Medieval Edition)

Maybe your character is a jockey, or a rancher, or a stablehand, or the ever popular cowboy in the wild west. Maybe they have a whole team and an Olympic dream. But what do people even do with horses? I can help.

First, some vital terms

The equipment that a horse wears is referred to as Tack. Tack can be minimal or incredibly complex. The part that goes on the horse's head when riding is the bridle, and the part that goes on the back for the person to sit on is the saddle.

^ Got that? Good, there will be a test at the end.

Now, What do people even do with horses?

To know the jobs around horses, you should know that the equestrian world is divided into very distinct and separate realms, and the further you delve into these realms, the more specific and specialized the horses, equipment, and terms become. Broadly, there is "pleasure" horses and "working" horses. Working horses are relied upon for physical labor to support their humans. Pleasure horses fall into more of a hobby for their humans.

There is also the Western riding style and the English riding style. The Western style descends from the Spanish saddle, and is used throughout the world, but most commonly in the Americas, where it is closely tied to herding cattle. The English style is a bit harder to clearly pin down the original influences, but has history in military uses throughout the European continent, and currently exists internationally. The English style is the style used at the Olympic games and in jumping competitions, whereas Western is not.

^ this is an example of a Western Style working horse. Western describes the style of equipment as well as the riding style. This horse is dressed for herding cattle, with a large comfortable saddle and simple rope bridle.

^ This is also a working horse, this time in the English riding style. Notice the saddle is much smaller, without a large 'horn' at the front of the saddle, and the bridle on the horse's head is much more complex. This horse is a Police horse.

^ and there are many combinations, variations, or lack ofs that exist. Some people have trained their horses to not need any tack, and need only the tiniest movements of their rider's body. Don't ask me how, I am not one of them.

Finally, Professions involving horses.

For ease of understanding, I will break this into segments that involve all horses, English horses, Western horses, and then the even more specific horses like racehorses, ect.

This edition will deal with professions involving All Horses.

Equine Veterinarians

Veterinarians that work with horses in rural areas are usually more generally large animal veterinarians, while equine vets, often attached to an equine hospital or clinic, have specific and in-depth knowledge of equine medicine, rather than equine and bovine medicine. Both large animal vets and equine vets administer vaccines, diagnostic tests, and certificates of health, as well as diagnosing and prescribing treatments of injuries and sicknesses. Vets also aid in breeding horses, caring for pregnant mares, birthing foals, and handling semen collection or injection for artificial insemination.

One of the most common reasons for a vet call is for the treatment of colic, any horse owner's nightmare. Horses have a massive system of intestines, and any change to a horse's diet, stress, or exercise, as well as many other causes, can lead to a backup of food or feces in the digestive system. Minor cases can resolve with pain treatment, but in severe cases surgery is required, and horses can die very quickly from what is essentially an extremely dangerous stomach ache. It is one of the most common causes of death for horses.

^ In very severe cases, parts of the intestine tie themselves into knots, lose blood flow, and die within the horse. I know many horses that have died from colic, and some that have survived.

Farriers

Farriers are pedicure specialists for horses. The hoof of a horse is simply a very large and thick fingernail, and a farrier is an expert in trimming, shaping, and even repairing that massive fingernail, as well as tacking on metal shoes to the bottom of a horse's foot. Farriers are also sometimes blacksmiths, and will create their own shoes, while others use premade shoes and nails.

^ (1)A farrier tacking on a shoe to a horse's hoof. (2) Shaping hooves with a rasp. Farrier treatments cause no pain to the horse when done correctly, and the specialized knowledge of which is why many farriers are expensive. Horses will need this redone every 4-8 weeks, depending on the horse and the environment. Even more than the vet, a good farrier is vital to the health and use of a horse, while a bad farrier can ruin a horse in less than the swing of a hammer.

(Side note: This is not a shoe, and no person putting that on a horse should be considered a farrier. I don't take many strong stances in informational posts, but this is one.)

Saddlers

These expert leather workers fit and shape the tack to the shape of the horse and the shape of the rider. Many serious riders have custom fitted tack, where a base saddle or bridle has been reworked after purchase to perfectly fit the riding pair in question. (I have one, it was expensive, and it continues to be worth it). Historically, tack has always been made with leather, which allows for stretch and molding of the tack, as well as decades of longevity, and still today, only the cheapest of tack is made with plastics. Saddlers often specialize in English or Western style tack, and many old brands are still known today for certain fits.

^ An expert Colorado saddler at work.

Trainers

Horses do not naturally trust humans, even after thousands of years of domestication, nor do they automatically know how to be ridden. Trainers are experts not only in their discipline, but also experts in horse behavior, communication (with humans and horses), basic first aid, common sense, and the rarest of all, the elusive 'horse sense'. Horse sense give a trainer the understanding of a horse's personality, and allows them to form a bond that not only teaches the horse to trust them, but to trust all humans. A trainer's job is to discover the horse's potential abilities, as well as the horse's fears, dislikes, and any pain or mis-training that could impede a horse's progress. Across the world, there are many style of training, many jobs that horses must be taught to preform, and a lot of misunderstandings. A good trainer can save the lives of horses and humans alike, a bad trainer can ruin both. The first steps of training a horse can be referred to as 'starting', 'breaking', 'training', 'backing', and many more.

Grooms

Grooms are the beauty professionals of the horse world, as well as the people getting everything done behind the scenes at high level barns or shows. In some places, grooms bring the horse in from the field or stall to be brushed, put the tack on the horse, warm the horse up, and then hand the horse over to the rider. In other places, grooms are a luxury as much as a butler for your horse. Grooms may also be responsible for managing the stables and tacking areas, keeping those areas clean through sweeping or removing mess, and potentially feeding, moving horses from pasture to stable, or whatever else needs to be done at a large stable. In other situations, the more grunt work will fall to part-time stablehands, while the grooms focus on working with the horses and riders.

^ Racehorse Groom Stephanie Searle grooms a racehorse.

Floaters/Equine Dentists

Horses are unique animals, with unique digestive systems, as has already been discussed, and with unique teeth. Due to horses' diets involving primarily hays, grasses, or grains, the teeth of a horse receive a great deal of wear from the tough nature of these foods. The wear patterns are so well documented that they have for thousands of years been used to tell the age of a horse with a great deal of accuracy.

Floaters are equine teeth experts, and receive their name from the practice of 'floating', or grinding sharp areas of horses' teeth down to prevent these sharp points from slicing into the horse's cheeks or stopping a horse from properly chewing.

^ Floating a horse's teeth. Also not painful, but like many people, horses tend to prefer being sedated for the dentist.

Professional Transport

In the modern age, as well as to a certain extent, the past, horses are constantly being moved, shown, sold, and shipped. Professional horse transport exists in the form of semi-trucks, ships, and planes, as well as trains. The transport of horses, usually very expensive and valuable horses, requires a team of professionals including veterinarians to ensure the horses' safety in transition.

^ Horses ready to go on a plane. Personally, a terrifying sight.

Alternative Treatments

Just like human medicine, horse medicine has a proliferation of supplements, alternative treatments, folk magic, and home treatments. Professional equine nutritionists work with feed companies as well as feed supplement companies (think herbal food additives as well as fish oil, ect.) to create supplement brands that claim to calm or energize horses, ease pain, prevent colic, or treat any number of issues. Horses may receive any number of visits from such varied services as equine massage therapists, equine physical therapists, equine chiropractors, equine spirit mediums, animal communicators, and so on. The scientific basis for these professionals ranges from well supported to lacking support, but such services remain popular regardless.

^ No matter what the profession with horses ends up being, just about everyone starts here: mucking out the stalls.

This post will end here, but keep an eye for the extended cut with the English and Western specific professions!

[soulofamy]

Achieving her Absolution

It all happened faster than Syzoth could make sense of it.

One moment, the two were fighting back to back, she with her kriss and he in his reptiloid form. They had cut their enemies down to their last man. The next, Ashrah let out a choked yelp as a blade passed through her abdomen. She had taken the blow intended for Syzoth.

"Ashrah!" Syzoth yelled, horrified. Rage took hold of his body as he made swift work of dispatching the enemy. He then flew to Ashrah's side, shifting into his humanoid form as he scooped her into her lap. "Ashrah?" he whimpered, his nose already stinging. Not again...please not again...

A moan left Ashrah as she struggled to lift her head. "Sy...zoth..." she uttered. Her face contorted and she let out a pained gasp. Syzoth felt her body tense in his arms. She took labored breaths and rested her head on his chest, much too weak to keep holding it up. For what felt like an eternity, her tired eyes watched him with silent concern. "Why...are you c...rying...my darling...?" she struggled to ask, her voice quiet. She reached a shakey hand up to cup his face and her thumb brushed away his tears. "My absolution...is at hand..." she gave him a weak smile. "We should be...celebrating..."

Syzoth raised a hand up to hold hers to his face, and leaned his head into her touch. "I...don't understand..." was all Syzoth could say.

She once again struggled to lift her head up and looked to the side. The weak smile on her lips widened and she resettled against Syzoth's chest. "The Elder gods...even they...have c...ome to...congratulate me..."

Did she actually achieve her absolution? Syzoth wondered. She had saved his life by taking that blow. Perhaps it was that selflessness that granted her the goal she had worked so hard for.

But at what cost?

"For so long...I felt as though...I would never achieve it..." she murmured. Her expression was calm and serene, only interrupted by pained winces. "But now...it's finally here." Ashrah had always been the most beautiful thing to Syzoth, but there was something about her now that he could only describe as angelic.

Syzoth forced a smile to match hers. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her in her last moments. "I always knew you could do it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am so very proud of you, Ashrah."

She smiled up at him and her eyelids grew heavy. A hole grew in his heart, realizing he only hand mere seconds left with her. She glanced to the side again, then back up at him. "The Elder gods...beckon me..." Her smile faded and her eyebrows knit. "You will...come with me...right...?"

Syzoth sniffled as tears flowed down his face. His smile persisted as he nodded. "I will be along shortly."

Ashrah gave him one last smile before her body went limp in his arms. If he didn't know she was dead, he might have thought she was sleeping against him, content as she dreamed good dreams. Syzoth clutched her body as close as he could as he wept, his shoulders shaking.

[lokh]

Im gonna need your like, whole musical rec list, bc literally every song you have posted has not flopped once, give me your faves i need to eat them

OUGHHH YOUVE UNLOCKED THE BEAST ARGSHHFHJDF....

in the interest of making this both easily accessible but not stretching the dashboard, im embedding bandcamp links when i can, otherwise linking to youtube when unavailable

in no particular order, inclusion based mostly on what im still actively into LMAO but also just things you should give a go at least once:

list of artist recommendations

zeal and ardor: described as a mix of african-american spirituals and black metal. try devil is fine, you aint coming back, wake of a nation or church burns

bloodywood: indian folk metal, literally nobody is doing it like them. recently featured in monkey man (2024), try chakh le, yaad or dana dan

stromae: if youve never heard any of his songs WHAT ARE YOU DOING..... incredible lyricist, described as a blend of hip hop/electronic. papaoutai made the rounds on tumblr a while back, but you should also try santé and l'enfer

alamat: pinoy pop. a youtube commenter described them as sounding like 2nd gen kpop which probably also explains why i took a shine to them LMAO, notable for the amount of filipino culture on display and the diversity thereof (singing in different languages, themes). first heard them thru kasmala either here or on twitter lmao, try aswang or maharani

andy bull: alt-pop. a lot of poppy and upbeat songs with a melancholic undertone imo. an australian artist, try it's all connected or keep on running

cosmo sheldrake: electronic, wikipedia also lists him as folktronica and baroque pop. you may have heard the song come along on an apple ad - hes known for sampling sounds from nature. pliocene for example features sounds from endangered ecosystems.

if you like cosmo sheldrake, you might like hidden orchestra (electronica, ambient). also making use of field recordings, i really love the archipelago mixtape but its a hard sell at about an hour lmao. if you like the following song then i implore you to give it a go

son lux: experimental, you may have heard from them in the entire soundtrack for everything everywhere all at once (!!!!!). try dangerous, dream state (brighter night) or live another life.

ammar 808: electronic/world fusion, also behind bargou 08 (folk rock you should also listen to). i just cant get ain essouda out of my head, but i also love geeta duniki

miyavi: j-rock, used to be a visual kei artist. these days he might be known more for anime openings like flashback (kokkoku) or other side (id:invaded), or for work like snakes in arcane (or actually inspiring and voicing a character in it), but ive always been partial to his early work like sukkyanen myv or ashita, genki ni naare

songs/albums

'threads' album by now, now (indie rock).

'dream to make believe' or 'what to do when you are dead' by armor for sleep (rock, emo). here's the truth about heaven from the latter album

i already posted about it but denzel curry's 13lood 1n + 13lood out mixx (rap, trap) is extremely good

the guilty gear soundtracks and im so serious im not fucking joking. different kinds of rock and metal and all sorts of influences put in, a genuine labor of love. xrd and earlier games are mainly instrumental with some vocal tracks (try give me a break or big blast sonic), while strive pretty much always includes vocals (of course i need to rec rock parade, but also try requiem. its genuinely hard for me to pick and choose lmao)

not an album and not an artist

coke studio pakistan and coke studio bangla knocking it out of the fucking park, im particularly a fan of harkalay and kotha koiyo na. you could try the other coke studios too (tamil, india, etc)

triple j like a version is when the radio station triple j brings in artists and has them do a cover of a song (artists choice). i liked denzel curry's cover of bulls on parade and flume's shooting stars (video for this one is incredible, man had a vision you just have to stick it out), but you get a lot of interesting interpretations like the wombats' running up that hill, gordi's in the end or, infamously. the wiggles' elephant

ive DEFINITELY missed out some, but thats what my music tag is for LMAO i hope someone discovers something they like here!!!!

[utilitycaster]

"There is zero attempt to extend anything but bad faith."

standing ovation for tidily describing this fandom in a nutshell tbh

Thanks, but I'm talking about a particular subset, the handwringy overwrought appeals to emotion crowd for whom the gods can never under any circumstances be redeemed, so unless you are also talking about that specific small piece of the fandom, I disagree! I actually think the fandom at large has been pretty receptive to the story as it's being told. And honestly, even when I've been in fandoms that frustrated me greatly with widespread bad faith interpretations (Midst and WBN have both had problems here)* they've come around when more obvious evidence came about. Better late than never.

I do think that an issue in this fandom, and fandoms at large, is not so much bad faith but as someone else said, motivated reasoning (though in the case of something the motivated reasoner dislikes, will become bad faith). A lot of people decide how they want to the story to go very early, often in a manner that validates their own existing real-world politics (even if they're not super applicable to the situation at hand) or personal preferences. I mean, that's in the end the source of a good number of shipping bad takes - people decide two characters must be in love and so even if they start dating other people and not talking to each other anymore, the motivated reasoning shipper decides that ACTUALLY this is all a front and the actor's blinks are in secret code and the relationship will definitely break up and the True Love was Always Endgame no matter how many times the creators say "no, it never was our intention to have those characters get together." But even then I think the silent majority of most fandoms are just. vibing and happy to be here. It's just that motivated reasoning people are loud.

And I'm not setting myself apart here; I'm loud and I'm certainly not without bias. My motivated reasoning tends to be based on foregone conclusions that I think are more likely to actually play out, I think, and I try to be self aware about it, but like, I do tend to assume stories will be good and follow some narrative lines and use the hints they drop, and that is itself an assumption because some stories are poorly made. Like, for example, with the gods, I do think that there is very little chance Matt is going to tell a story that's like "hey, Ashley, you know your first ever TTRPG character, who brought you into this friend group and whose life's purpose is to restore worship in the Everlight? Bad news, Everlight's a genocidal cunt and she's gotta die." That's obviously not my only evidence here. We've got the whole opening scene. We've got the fact that the non-Aeorian NPCs who aren't divine companions we've spent time with have been a sickly old man granted peace in death, a gnomish woman granted solace after being cruelly mocked by Aeorian forces, and the beggars who didn't have food despite wagons of supplies going to Aeor, whereas the Aeorian NPCs have been guards, slimy bureaucrats, teens badly beaten for minor crimes, and a drunk cop; the defaced and forgotten temple in a poor neighborhood that is heavily surveilled from afar because its laborers are unwelcome. Hell, as I said before it aired, the fact that the main PCs are gods and not Aeorian mages is a very deliberate and telling choice on its own. But yeah on some level, while I think Bells Hells have the space to decide to kill the gods since they are those same cast members (thought I doubt that is what they will do), I do not think Matt will tell an earlier story that says "hey, everyone at the table except Marisha? your beloved character(s) whom you played for all or most of a campaign followed a rotten-to-the-core lie."

Going off the meta of creators is a bit risky - a lot of dumb D20 discourse is based on assuming Brennan's leftism is the same as Very Online I Do Not Dream Of Labor Leftism and not his actual "the BBEG is the exploitation and undervaluing of labor and the dehumanization of others; labor itself can be deeply fulfilling, you just shouldn't be forced to rely on your capacity to do labor to the exclusion of all other things to be housed and fed" leftism and reasoning from there - but it's certainly more reliable than going off reasoning of "I as a random private individual want the gods to die for whatever the fuck reason and therefore that is the correct thing to happen and any other outcome is bad."

This is very rambly because I just got up and maybe it's that it's a nice morning and I can actually enjoy a leisurely breakfast before going into work unlike most of last week and much of the rest of this week, but for all I proudly identify as a hater, I am very much a lover of fiction and I want it to succeed and I want it to not just validate me. Like, if I hate on something it's because I wish it were better, but I don't hate on something just because it presents a different viewpoint than the one I already held. And I think you have to bring that good faith to fandom as well. If people are being idiots and assholes then yeah you don't need to keep acting like they're valid for that (I mean, they're valid in that everyone has the right to their opinions, but not in the sense that you need to grant those opinions intellectual consideration on par with thoughtful and evidenced meta and theories) but I do not actually go in assuming the fandom is going to be wrong and dumb and disappointing, and I think that's why I've found such enjoyment in it. Most people are chill! Chill people just tend not to loudly say WOW I'M SO CHILL AND THIS STORY IS GREAT.

*one bit of salt to cut the sweetness here but also still weirdly positive: the way I've dealt with that and specifically WBN is that I am trying to write one piece of meta after each episode that doesn't attack people or anything, just lays out my thoughts respectfully. Be the change you wish to see. I think a lot of people in fandom see someone disagreeing with them and go "OH YOU CAN'T LET US HAVE ANYTHING" and frankly this is the cause of almost all fandom unpleasantness I've experienced (in the sense of people seeing me say I don't like something and acting like I shut them down instead of simply didn't vibe), but it's important to remember that isn't how it works. Even if you do think the fandom has widespread bad opinions, you can change this by being thoughtful and patient and putting forth better ones. I mean there's limits, and if a fandom is genuinely hateful, get out, but if it's just surface-level takes for something that should be deeper? Be the one who shows the depth.

[horizon-verizon]

Why do you think they didn't even bother to get Alyssa right? Were they afraid of pointing out that genetics can be weird and that not every Valyrian looks "Valyrian?" Did it interfere with the angle they were trying to push for Daemon? Do they just think they audience is too stupid for it to click that she's his mother — but then also, what about the BOOK readers they must have known they'd confuse? Or were they just lazy? Can't tell.

Because Alyssa is only there to further Daemon's "toxic man must be fixed uo for our morally pure female protagonist" arc....even though Daemon canonically both in show and book had "settled" down enough to prove a reliable supporter of Rhaenyra long before the war.

Like I said in this post, Alyssa is a tool for a man's development similar to how rape in many male-centered stories are there to just signal the man or men are good or bad. Such female devices are reduced, thus there's more likeihood they will not be represented as themselves and that can often include down to their very appearance. Because even if you try to argue Daemon was too young to know what she looked like, that is even highly unlikely. Even without portraits and paintings of Targ family members, his father, Baelon, would eventually tell him. His grandmother would eventually tell him. His uncle Aemon or aunt Jocelyn Baratheon could tell him. He could hear of her appearance from random people growing up as he lived in the Keep whenever they talked of her at some point bec she was so singular in appearance that people would likely always include her heterochromia if not her broken nose and hair color--anyone could have dirty blonde hair and even Alysanne didn't have Valyrian pale hair/gold-silver hair and anyone could have a broken nose...but heterochromia? Nah. Alyssa's eyes could be described as some working servants as even "demonic" or just a way to "show" how ugly she could have been perceived to be. Point is, all these features, and esp her eyes coupled with her nonconforming "unfeminine" behavior--all of them together really set her apart...so much that Daemon would INEVITABLY have known what she looked like as he grew older.

Because she'd just be so talked about. again, even IF you argued there were not portraits of her, which I think is very unlikely.

And finally, there is the possibility of Daemon having seen as his mother suffered for months after her labors with Aegon and had that image imprinted on his 3/4 yr old mind forever.

But the writers don't take any of this into account bc their aim was not to humanize a character but to use her to further their faux male-improvement plot. It's also possible that they simply don't remember Alyssa when they read F&B or they simply didn't care to internalize Jaehaerys' years to separate that from the Dance's unique sort of "unreliability".

BTW, I am very aware that the writers wanted it as Daemon seeking out pure faith in him from someone in his family...but this kinda contradicts the claim of him not being responsible for the dream's contents bc Alys Rivers makes him dream it. Aside form how the dream male gazes Alyssa when she could have had other depictions for their Daemon-at-Harrenhal-for-self-discovery arc.

[agentmmayy]

2023 monthly music rotation

it's been a hot minute since i've made one of these, but here are all my favorite songs from each month of 2023!

january:

one i wanna be with - trella: oh bop!!!!!!!!!!! this ENTIRE SONG just makes me so happy!!!!!!! it’s so full of love!!! every lyric hits but especially i can’t help but wish we met before we did.

february:

antiques - holden laurence: god the desperation in this makes me want to claw my chest open and rip my heart out. the beat fucks in this jaunty rhythm that’s such a juxtaposition to the haunting lyrics and vocals. then the bridge?????? i promise to be strong i promise to believe in love that lingers on i’ll see you in my dreams. I’M CALLING THE POLICE. this is a tess/joel song. not only because of how apocalyptic this feels (which is a whole other discussion) but also meet me in the space between all the words unsaid when we could not speak meet me i’ll be waiting for you there. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

march:

borderline - tove lo: HOT. listen. everything tove lo writes and sings is inherently sexy i don't make the rules. this one especially wtf!!!!!!

unrequited night - lily kershaw: i- please respect my privacy at this time. this is a masterpiece. immediately a song i listened to laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. VERY tlou coded. (but then again every song i listened to in feb/march and lbr this past year was) AND THE GASP AT THE END GETS ME EVERY TIME.

april:

flowers in my hair - calista garcia: sweet, slow, and syrupy. i love this song and how it feels like a breath of fresh air. it’s achingly romantic and has got me singing along and twirling my hair and kicking my feet. though, at the same time it’s so intimate i feel like i’m intruding. 

labor - paris paloma: the intensity of it still continues to blow my mind. it’s unapologetic and awful. it’s incredible. i felt every lyric in my gut. i don’t want to over explain it since i can’t do the song justice but it’s so brutally honest in describing and dismantling traditional roles placed upon women and girls. the entirety of it is like poking at a wound that never closes, a wound that’s been gaping and bleeding for centuries and it makes me so angry. the visceral reaction i had to the lyric ‘if we had a daughter’ girl i- ouuuuugh. i got sick to my stomach. i was screaming crying throwing up etc etc. anyway this song is a masterpiece. still haven’t recovered from it. also it’s a fucking bop. 

may:

‘i’m just learning how to make peace with feeling small’ ‘but i might drive off if it gets too hard’ ‘there’s always a sunset that i wanna run into’ ‘i’m searching but i’m not lost’ and my all time favorite lyric that put me on the floor when i heard it the first time- ‘i’m a growing tree a few missing leaves i can’t shelter you don’t sit under me’ HELLO????? 

vagabond - overcoats: THIS song. this song has been the one i played the most in may because one it’s an absolute banger and second of all it read me for filth and the lyrics are so beautifully crafted and honest and pure and delivered impeccably. it’s a sweet, slow melody and coupled with the lyrics it reached into the depths of my soul and pulled out everything i can’t say and put it into this song like.

fireworks - JOSEPH: now for ANOTHER song that read me for filth. lately i’ve been feeling this exact way since all my friends and people around me have reached certain milestones in life- such as getting married, settling down, etc- that i haven’t and i’m left even more alone and bereft. but THIS SONG said that’s okay!!!!!!!! this song understood!!!!!! it said i’m not alone feeling this way!!!!

every lyric absolutely sent me through the roof but these especially:  ‘all these long songs might be no good for me’ ‘how long will i wait to be happy all my friends ask me’ ‘what if i’m wrong wrong to think there’s more to this story’ ‘an act of faith even though it hurts to shut that door am i holding out forever?’ ‘am i headstrong or foolish every night waiting for lighting to strike whole you’ve got blue skies?’ and my favorite- ‘i wish i could just flip a switch and accept your kind of muted bliss’ WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! once again HOW did they put it into words!!!!!! this song has such a special place in my heart. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve not only listened to it but also screamed along and cried to it 

also, JOSEPH always creates the most compelling and just fun to listen to songs and this is no exception!!!!!!!!! the harmonies are delicious and the music dropping at certain points is incredible and the beat has me dancing around the room. filed right under beach music! 

moonlight - madison rose: i wore this song into the ground!!!!! AMAZING beat and vibe. liberating rejuvenating sexy etc etc.

june:

cowboy take me away - the chicks: me personally!!!!! my favorite version of cowboy take me away. i DO wanna touch the earth and break it in my hands but i ESPECIALLY wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall!!!!!!!!! every summer is cowgirl summer but this song just turned the dial to the max. never have i ever wanted a cowgirl summer more.

july:

satellites - emi larraud: this one was interesting! VERY 80s themed. it's funky. it's powerful. it's just groovy.

august:

wicked game - ursine vulpine, annica: alright i'm a sucker for these intense ballads especially when they remind me of the 100 but seriously. it's sensuous. it's an experience. the vocals are out of this world.

pretty boy - LEON: of course i had to put a LEON song on here. while this isn't my favorite of hers it was just so nice to get a new song from her again. i felt like a wilting flower getting watered. to no one's surprise it's a bop and delivers lines that absolutely wreck me such as you can't outrun getting old, that hidden place where hope lives, well that's the last it goes. ma'am!!!

september:

moonburn - dani sylvia: feeling very seen rn thank you!!!!!!!! literally spongebob leaning against rock.jpg every time i listen. it's- ough. this song has layers and i am peeling them back like an onion. when does the healing start if you leave before daylight. saying SO much in one line!!!!!!! it's the inversion of the typical light vs dark trope for me! and the chorus is immaculate.

super graphic ultra modern girl - chappell roan: chappell hit it out of the park with her first album and THIS SONG SPECIFICALLY. the absolute journey @152glasslippers and i went on listening to this... especially at 22 seconds in. WHEW. super graphic ultra modern girl IS THAT GIRL!!!!!!! SHE IS THE MOMENT!!!!!

october:

honest mistake - bears den: screaming shaking crying throwing up etc etc. bears den always writes songs that lift me by my ankles and shake me until every humiliatingly private thought comes tumbling out in the lyrics of their songs. also i love how consistent they are with the aesthetics and formality of their songs. it's very soothing while ripping me up inside.

mars - noelle: listened to this 60 times in a day. you don't understand i found this song 10/17 and spotify stopped tracking 10/31 and it was my most listened to song of the year. it's dreamy. it's sweet. the vocals are stunning and the music is fantastic.

heart to heart - now more than ever: banger. when that beat dropped i was shook!!!!!!!!!! it's a very early 2000s emo vibe but also delightfully contemporary? the vibes are there. oh and the lyrics and the way they're sung is amazingly bittersweet.

november:

swimming pool - jack kane: one of my favorites of the whole year. if spotify didn't stop tracking before november this would have been my top song. it is 100000% a slow sad groove bop. every time i listen maybe not physically but spiritually i am girl at table.jpg. formally this song is delicious and lyrically it is devastating.

december:

scorpions - distance sprinter : okay this one might be a contender for top song. impeccable. there's crack in this. the beat is OUTSTANDING. i literally can't play this in the car if i'm driving because i will start dancing. the vibes are off the charts. at no point in this song do you expect what's next. the lyrics are heartbreaking and beautiful. there's so much i can say about this song but i am gnawing on the words it's just so good.

TOP SONGS OF THE YEAR: these have 5 stars. to me. 6 stars even.

antiques - holden laurence

unrequited night - lily kershaw

vagabond - overcoats

fireworks - JOSEPH

moonburn - dani sylvia

swimming pool - jack kane

scorpions - distance sprinter

[milky-fixx]

pragma

obito uchiha x reader // naruto

—because even your local hardened war criminal/resident traumatized uchiha/certified masked idiot deserves love. 

a collection of valentine’s day obito fics—some canon, some canon-divergent, some au. 

word count: 4.7k

—note: happy (late) bday obito! i started this last vday but couldn't post in time.

POST WAR OBITO LIVES REDEMPTION ARC AU

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Obito blinks. He's about to head out for his shift when you present the the small box before him, wrapped with a delicate red bow. Now that he's past house arrest, the Rokudaime, after lengthy debates with his council, has allowed Obito to do community service in an attempt to make amends for his past crimes. It's grueling labor, of course, and he's strapped with all kinds of chakra inhibitors and accompanied by ANBU any time he's out and about. But this form of punishment, he tells you, is far more merciful than he deserves.

“I–” He drops his bag, cocking his head to the side. You press the box into his hands. It takes him awhile to realize it's a gift. For him. Oh. “Thank you?”

Obito's expression can be only be described as adorably confused, and you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s a holiday,” you press. “Where you give your loved ones chocolate and other gifts?”

“Ah, that's right...” He ducks his head to hide the flush rising to his cheeks, scratching the side of his face. He had forgotten about that. “Thanks.”

He’s not embarrassed, per se. (No matter what Kakashi tells you about how Obito as a kid always had this habit of looking away when he’s flustered).

It’s just…. this is the very first time he’s ever gotten any kind of gift on this day, and he's cycling through a tumult of confusing emotions. Because he’s seen firsthand the horrors of the world, he’s wrecked havoc, inspired terror and strife onto others. He’s an awful, terrible person who undoubtedly does not deserve to be alive while so many others caught up in his machinations are not.

And yet… that juvenile, hopelessly romantic side of him--which he's never been able to rid himself of, no matter how hard he's tried--is moved by your actions. In his youth, he often dreamt of things like requited confessions, kisses under the rain, the soft embrace of first love--all these pathetic, soft impulses and desires that had not yet been tarnished by war or the cruel reality of being a shinobi.

Your gift, as simple as it is, reminds him of all these things. It rushes through him, leaving an uncomfortable lump that he can’t swallow past in his throat.

And the shadowy underside of his thoughts creep forward, as they often do when he is faced with your unassuming acts of kindness: He hasn’t done anything to deserve this, to deserve you. The sins of his past will never be washed away, no matter how much he toils away. One day you will wake up and realize he’s not worth the dirty looks from villagers. That the effort to understand a man who does not even understand himself anymore, who has spent his whole life chasing after an impossible dream that has fallen to shambles, is a wasted one—

The hopeful glance from you has those thoughts abating, even for a second. With a flush of embarrassment, Obito realizes you've been waiting for him to open the gift. He undoes the bow, curious to see what you've given him.

It's a small box of chocolates. Each chocolate is decorated delicately, in various shades of pink and red. Cute, Obito thinks.

He glances up at you before popping a chocolate into his mouth. His eyes widen slightly at the decadent taste that spreads across his tongue.

“It’s--it's good. It’s really good.”

You beam up at him. “I put raspberry jam in some of them! I know you liked it last time I bought some.”

“You–” His eyes widen even more. “You made these? From scratch?”

“Yeah! It took me awhile to get the recipe right, but it was worth it.”

“Thank you,” he says again, his gaze softening. He holds his arm out, gathering you to him in a one-armed embrace, the other arm cradling the box of chocolates to his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. You press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, returning the favor. Time never seems to be in your favor though, as Obito begrudgingly lets go of you.

“I have to go.” 

“Have a great day!”

As Obito heads out, he makes amends with the fluttery feeling in his chest. He’s certainly too old to be touched by these kinds of things, but something about you has him feeling like he's back in his goofy, younger days, a side of him he thought was long gone to years of planning and trauma and–

Wait.

Fuck. Was he supposed to get you something back?

He stills. 

You’re surprised when the door slams opens. “'bito? Did you forget something--” The fervent crash of his lips against yours cuts you off.

It seems that he’s had enough time to process your gift. His large hands cup your cheeks. His lips move with the desperation of a man clinging to his lifeline, pressing firmly against yours, as if the answer to all his doubts can be found in the meeting of your two bodies.

“Thank you,” he says again, breathless, once he breaks the kiss. His eyes lidded and dark with the depth of his feelings. “I owe you."

He licks his lips. "L-Later today. Is that okay? I promise I'll make it worth your time."

JONIN!OBITO

Obito can think of three scenarios which come close to being as bad as this.

One. When Minato had him and Kakashi babysit an old man’s cat on a genin-level mission. Cats, despite being the Uchiha clan’s natural ally, have never liked him. It completely clawed his face up, and Rin had to tend to his scratches.

Two. When, as teenagers, he asked Rin out on a date, and during said date, she tearfully confessed her love for Kakashi. Unpleasant, certainly. Unexpected? Not really. What was unexpected was that Obito ended up being terribly allergic to something in the restaurant's udon, and his lips swelled up to twice their size.

Three, of course, is a few months back, when Kakashi left on a mission and asked him to train Team 7 for a day. No one told Obito that kids were this obnoxious to deal with. Not with his former sensei's kid screaming that he would best his cousin (Did Naruto realize the whole village could hear him? Was Obito ever this loud? Did Minato secretly invest in earplugs), his cousin acting like he was too damn smart to listen to anything Obito had to teach him (Itachi really should address his brother's superiority complex one day), and the one, normal person in their group, Sakura, clearing pining as desperately for his cousin as he did for Rin.

This scenario though? This may just make all the others pale in comparison.

The fact that Obito is supposed to propose to you today, but his months of careful planning is going up into flames, as if he'd burned them himself with his katon.

The fancy kaiseki ryori he got reservations for months back? Turns out they closed for renovations and he never got notice. Something about an intoxicated genin destroying the whole place while practicing his Drunken Fist technique.

Obito also intended to dress nicer for the occasion, to grab a shower and change maybe, but his mission ran late into the day, up until the very moment your dinner was planned. He had barely enough time to report to the Hokage before he was sprinting towards the restaurant, still wearing his jonin vest and ninja clothing.

He’s just hoping you won’t be mad at him.

He thumbs the ring in his pocket anxiously as he approaches the restaurant.

The two of you end up at the only place available on such short notice--the yakitori-ya, which is where your very first date was at. He curses his luck. It's not exactly the fancy setting he was hoping for--more like a date spot after a late night drinking or for casual dates--but he's out of options. Even flashing around the Uchiha name, which he hated doing, couldn't yield better results.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as soon as he slides into the booth across from you. “The report took forever, and I swear the Hokage's advisors were trying to sabotage me. Why does it matter how many flower beds I saw on my way back here?" He ruffles his spiky hair in frustration.

You laugh. “It's okay, I’m used to it. You're always losing track of time, 'Bito."

He flushes slightly. "N-Not really... I've gotten better at it, haven't I?"

You hum thoughtfully. "Let's see... you do still get side-tracked by grandmas needing help carrying their groceries, by stray cats begging for food... Isn't that right?"

He flushes again, ducking his head down. Punctuality has never been his forte, but for him to be late on an important occasion like this. When he was going to--

"It's not intentional," he mutters.

"I'm just teasing," you tell him, reaching across the table for his hand, which he offers. "I already ordered us food. So tell me... how was the mission?"

Obito animatedly tells you about his past week, before lowering his voice at the top secret information that he as a jonin should not be sharing, but is anyways. The food arrives, plates of grilled meat on skewers generously filling your table.

He really should have more decorum, but he's starving. His anxiety also isn't helping. He ends up scarfing down the chicken skewers, talking in between taking giant bites of food. Thankfully, you seem to find it amusing, laughing at the way he chokes on a bite that was way too big for him to swallow. He gulps down his water, attempting vainly to act unperturbed.

You lean forward to grab another skewer, and Obito catches a glimpse of something red and lacy underneath your dress. He promptly ends up choking on his water again. Coughing, he thumps the front of his chest several times.

"Are you okay?"

He glances back at you, his face aflame. "I-I'm fine!" he says a little too loud. "I'm fine. Just... fine—“ It's then that he notices just what you're wearing that covers the red lace tease. A tight black dress that seems to accentuate every dip and crease of your figure.

His mouth suddenly seems dry, even though he just drank water. "You look nice. Uh, really nice. Really, really nice. Is that—is that new?"

"Dear, I think you're drooling a little."

He promptly snaps his mouth shut.

"And it is new! I thought I would wear it for the occasion. And you know... for later tonight," you murmur, voice laced with intentions.

"T-T-Tonight?" While he's nearly chugged down his entire drink, the admission has him jolting, his elbow knocking over his cup and spilling the small amount of liquid left. He’s aghast, rapidly dabbing the table with napkins.

You giggle, handing him your napkin as well. “You’re usually not this clumsy. You okay? Tired?”

“A little,” he admits. "I don't think I've gotten much sleep the past few days." You nod thoughtfully, looking slightly put out. "B-But that doesn't mean I can't! I'm—we can still—tonight? Yeah?"

He's flustered. How has he become so tongue-tied and nervous? It's like he's a fucking awkward teen again, for crying out loud. He fiddles with the ring in his pocket, suddenly remembering it's there.

"I-I was actually... well, I had a surprise for you, too."

“You mean other than taking us back to this place?”

He flushes.

"It was the only place that had last minute--I mean, the only place I could find a last minute spot at after my other reservations got cancelled!”

"We haven't been here since we first started dating, right?" you muse.

"Y-Yeah?"

You sigh wistfully. “It brings back memories.”

Come to think of it, he does remember what a disaster your first date was, at this same restaurant. Burning his tongue on the skewers from eating too fast, spilling his drink all over you on in his excitement when you complimented his skills. You must have found him so annoying. You still agreed to a second date.

He cringes. History really did repeat itself.

"Hopefully I'll make new ones," he mutters under his breath.

"What was that?"

It's now or never. Before he loses his courage.

"Marry me?" he blurts out, holding out what he thinks is the ring to you. Instead, it is his half-eaten skewer.

You blink.

"I... are you proposing to me with grilled meat?"

"Shit, I—" His other hand darts into his pocket, brandishing the ring. While his hands are slightly oily from the grease of the food, thankfully his grip doesn't slip.

"You make me the happiest man alive. I can't imagine... I don't even want to think about a future without you," he says heatedly.

It's then that Obito realizes he is supposed to be down on a knee. Shit. He curses a bit, before he kneels down before you, putting the ring back in its pocket and presenting it to you once more. It's a simple ring, engraved with the Uchiha crest.

He glances up at you hopefully.

Or tries to. Obito once again gravely miscalculates in his nervousness. His head smacks the bottom of the table as he looks up—hard.

"Fuck!"

He clutches the side of his head, rubbing at it. His vision goes cross for a second.

Then it's your hands, softer and kinder that cradle his head.

"Babe, are you alright?" you say in disbelief. "You're so clumsy today."

This is supposed to be his moment to be smooth. To make things smooth.

"Sorry," he murmurs against your shirt. "You've got my head on backwards, I swear... I'm so wound up today, and everything keeps going—goddamnit. Can one thing go right?" he starts ranting. "I was hoping you'd say yes—"

"Yes."

"Ah--wait. Do you... do you mean it?"

"Yes. I do. I'd love to marry you, Obito Uchiha."

You reach for the ring, but then pause. "Um, maybe after you wipe that off,” you say, referring to the grease. "And we ice your head?"

You said yes. You said yes. What happens after that point, Obito does not even care about. Once he's back up, he gathers you in a tight hug.

"Thank you. Thank you so much--I--I'll be the best husband, I promise. Someone to make you proud...!"

And as the two of you walk home from the disastrous date, Obito cannot help but keep his arms around you. Unable to bite back down the giddy feeling.

Until something occurs to him.

"You didn't seem that surprised," he says.

"Oh! Yeah. The Uchiha blacksmith who made the ring kept asking if I liked it. Says you ordered it awhile ago, and he's surprised you haven't manned up and given it to me yet."

"Ah…. You—you knew this whole time I would…?”

He's such a loser.

But he's your loser.

And you like him, despite it all.

MODERN!AU, arranged marriage, Obito as CEO of Uchiha Corps.

The smell of chocolate fills the air.

Obito pauses at the doorway. It's been... strange, having someone else in his space. In his home. Living with a stranger who you know you are soon to be wed to, despite knowing each other for such little time.

The thought still makes him a bit restless. He was initially averse to the idea. When he was younger, he dreamt of things like true love and romantic gestures. Not being forced to marry a complete stranger.

But then the incident that left half his body scarred happened, and that severely jeopardized those dreams. Then his uncle's whims. Madara, once he wanted something, rarely wavered.

"The Uchiha Corp. needs an heir, and you do not have any options at this point. Our clan's legacy will not be left to rot should you not find a suitable spouse. If that's the case—if your skills are lacking in that area—I will find one for you."

Ouch.

Obito hated following Madara's orders, but it seems that not much has changed from his childhood. Being forced into roles he has little interest in, being forced to uphold a certain image.

Doesn't mean he has to like it. Or accept it easily.

It's not that he dislikes you. In fact, Obito would say you're quite lovely in many ways. You actually seem to have several of the qualities he's liked in his crushes before (all unrequited). You're kind and patient, and you even have a bit of a temper, if anything is proven by how easily you slip into crass language.

It's just. It's not his choice. He didn't get to choose to meet you. It's not like the two of you met in a coffee shop or at the market, by chance, as love should be.

And that makes him resentful.

He supposes it all came to a head three nights ago, where he threw words and accusations at you like barbed wires. And you had responded in kind.

"What's in this for you again? Money, status? Want to bang the next head of Uchiha Corp. so you can live a life of lavishness?"

You blink. Quickly getting over your surprise, your mouth sets in a firm line as you respond with, "Are you always this fucking rude to people? Or am I just lucky?"

His eyes narrow. "Answer the question. What are you trying to get out of this?"

You're upset. The harsh furrow to your brow says it all.

"Uchiha... I'm not just someone you can boss around. I'm not one of your damn lackeys. And I'm not just going to sit around pretty and subservient if you're gonna be this damn rude to me."

The two of you continue to sleep in separate rooms and beds, as you have been for the past month, but this time, the distance leaves Obito with the queasy feeling of a fight unresolved. The two of you haven't spoken since, thankfully your schedules so different that you don't spend much time together.

After reflecting on it, he supposes you are just as much implicated in this as he is. You don't seem too eager to get married either. That gives Obito a small measure of relief.

Along with the realization that he's being an ass and making things more difficult for you.

Reconciliation though—he's not the best at. Which is why he's lingering in the doorway to the kitchen, working up the courage to approach you. Are you mad, he wonders? Anyone would be mad at being spoken to that way.

You seem to be cooking... sweets? Baking? And just as Obito works up the courage to say something, you lock gazes.

Before you promptly glance away, as if you haven't even seen him.

Ouch.

"Morning," he says deciding to break the ice.

You blink at him. "Oh. Good morning."

"You're up... early."

"Yeah. I was making chocolates." At his look of confusion, you clarify. "For you know.... Valentine's..."

"Oh. Yes."

So awkward. The tension thick enough to cut a knife through.

Are any of those for me? Obito dares to think foolishly, before you reply with,

"I was planning on eating all of these in front of you out of spite. But I suppose you could have one," you say offhandedly.

Obito flinches. "I... guess I deserve that."

"Maybe just a crumb of a chocolate. Ant-size."

He inhales deeply. Patience. "Also deserved."

You look at him curiously, as if you are not expecting his contriteness.

"...I'm just kidding. I did make some of these for you."

Obito's head snaps up. He stares at you cautiously.

"Do you... not like chocolates?"

"No, I—I do! I just... I was an ass to you."

"You were," you acknowledge.

"I wanted to... I wanted to apologize for—for being so..." While usually an eloquent speaker when the time came for him to compose himself, he's at a loss for words. How does he explain it? He's sorry for being such an ass. He's sorry for taking out his frustrations about love towards you. He's sorry he's being an absolute awful excuse for a fiance—

You approach him, and he looks up, only for you press one of the chocolates against his lips. He looks stunned.

"Try it? I... hope I used the sugar and not salt this time."

He hesitates.

"I'm kidding!"

He takes it into his mouth hesitantly, his gaze fixated on you. He chews slowly, savoring the taste.

"It's good. Even if you did use salt."

Your eyes widen. "Oh no. Did I really..." And then you catch sight of his face, alight with mirth. "You absolute liar, you had me worried for a sec."

"You started it!"

The two of you share a laugh. This is... nice. Unexpected. Obito was hardly expecting to be able to joke around like this with you.

That reminds him. He leaves the kitchen to grab something from the doorstep, returning with something hidden behind his back.

"These um, these are for you."

He holds his hands out bashfully. A colorful bouquet of flowers sits in his hand, freshly delivered to his door.

"Oh." You seem surprised, taking the gift from him with a curious look. "Thanks! I'm allergic."

His eyes widen. "You're not actually..." Shit. How awkward.

"I'm just kidding. It takes two to lie."

You crack a grin, and despite himself, Obito can't help but roll his eyes. His chest feeling oddly light, being able to joke around with you like this.

He doesn't know you yet. He doesn't know you enough to like you yet. But interactions like this give him hope that maybe... maybe things won't be that bad.

"Do you like udon?" Obito asks suddenly, remembering a local place that had good ratings. It was by reservation only, but he could pull some strings.

"Um, no."

"Oh..." He deflates slightly. There goes his plans for the udon date.

"I do like ramen though?” you offer. “And I know a good place…”

As the two of you embark on your first official date together, Obito realizes that maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be awful to get married to someone like you.

Maybe it would be fun, even.

CANON!OBITO, obsessed with the Tsuki No Me plan

When one does not have a heart, they cannot love.

When one’s heart is empty, love is also futile.

These are two things Obito knows with certainty.

The third is this: He could never love you in this cruel, harsh reality.

You want his affection, his desire. Stability, consistency. Someone to call home at the end of the day.

But his love?

His love is a bundle of thorns, amidst which a single, wilted rose lies.

He cannot love you in the way most men should. He will not choose you over the Tsuki No Me plan. When the choice comes down to it, he will discard you if you interfere with his will.

And you’ll yell at him, call him names. Tell him he’s delusional.

But do not think that it’s because he doesn’t care. If you know anything about him, it’s that his love runs deep enough to wage wars, to raze down villages, to have the seas run red with the blood of his enemies.

Even if you do not see his perspective, he is merciful. You will be still be able to live a peaceful life in the Infinite Tsukiyomi.

You and him were not meant to be together in this world. Not in a world where children are sent to war, where villages pile bodies upon bodies to achieve a means to an end. Where his love can be nothing but a poison that seeps into you with a single prick.

But in the world of the Infinite Tsukiyomi, anything is possible.

You and him could be the most loving couple. You, his dearest spouse, waiting for him in the kitchen after a long day, the perfect scene of domesticity. He, your loving husband, would kiss you, wrap his arms around your waist. His hands rubbing over your stomach as he buries his face into your neck, murmuring words of affection.

Things would be perfect. Far unlike the cruel, twisted world the two of you lived in now.

A life of eternal bliss.

And you would be none the wiser that it’s all a dream.

TOBI

“Whaaa, what’s with all the decorations, senpai?”

The three of you were sent on a mission near Kusagakure, and once it ended, decided to check out the village. The main square in is alight with decor, red and pink streamers hanging off food stands, flowers and everywhere the eye could see. 

Deidara snorts. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Tobi.” When the masked man cocks his head to the side, he rolls his eyes. “That shitty holiday where you get chocolates from girls.”

“Ah. Did senpai get any chocolates?”

“Tch, ‘course!” The blond crosses his arms, giving his partner a smug look. “I was so popular back in Iwa, girls would line up to give me their goodies.”

Tobi tilts his head. “I doubt that.”

“Why you—“

As Deidara and Tobi bicker, you walk closer to one of the stands, admiring the intricate bouquets. The life of a shinobi, especially in the Akatsuki, is often treacherous. It’s nice at times to sit back and enjoy the world around you. Not to mention how rare to have this much down time between missions, so you take full advantage of it, admiring the sights and sounds around you. 

“Do you see something you like?”

Tobi approaches you from behind, rubbing his head pitifully. You can only assume that given Deidara’s short temper and Tobi’s wily mouth, that he must have clocked him. 

“The flowers here are pretty,” you note, staring at the designs wistfully.

“Would you like some?” 

He poses the question in the same childlike manner he does everything.

You turn to your companion, observing the mysterious orange mask hiding his face. Tobi has always been an intriguing person, if not rather juvenile. At times you have to wonder if his obliviousness an act. Or if perhaps the shinobi world has broken him in this specific way.

Either way, the leader must find some value in his presence in the Akatsuki.

You smile. “No, I’m okay. You should really only give gifts to people you like on this day.”

“I like you!” Tobi says brightly. 

“Romantically,” you add, assuming once more Tobi’s innocence. Whether forced or not. “You should ideally gift someone you like in a romantic sense.”

You observe the other flowers, not noticing the way his mask dips slightly, as he also seems to survey the offerings.

“But I—oh, Deidara-senpai, there you are!” he says. once the blonde has caught up with you two. “Can I borrow some?”

“You broke idiot, don’t tell me you haven’t gotten paid yet!” He scoffs. “What’s it for anyways?”

“To buy them a flower!” He points at you.

“Tobi, it’s fine. Having to carry a flower around with me would be impractical anyways…” You’ve greatly debated it, but it’s true. The journey back to base is a long one, and no doubt you would end up ruining the flowers before then.

Deidara scrutinizes you, and then glances back at Tobi. He glances between you two a few more times with nothing short of suspicion. “…What? You got a crush or something, yeah?“

“A crush? Is that who you should give flowers to?”

“Ha, Tobi, I think you’re out of your league here. Anyone with two eyes would realize that.”

“Funny you say that… I don’t even think you can see out of two eyes, senpai! Not with your hair covering half your face.”

“You damned brat—“

You let the matter go, deciding that with this duo, the less said is the more peaceful. Sighing softly, you walk away to look at another stall, leaving them to argue again. While you couldn’t take one, you could only dream.

When you return to the base, it’s your surprise to find a flower laid out on your bed later that night. It’s a light red carnation, looking like it was picked straight out of a field.

Next to the flower is a note. The handwriting is messy, with an undeniably childish scrawl.

“I hope you like the flower I picked! The lady agreed to give me one when I told her it’s for a special friend!”

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day two

"It's been a long time."

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 911

tw: in-universe discrimination

The nursery felt strange without Grandma Rosemary. 

It had hit her many times over the past few days. But as Primrose flipped through a ledger started long before she was born in her grandmother’s office, it still didn’t feel quite real. It was hers, now, she supposed. Her parents had let Rosemary Marotto handle the books and taken care of the hard labor themselves her whole life. Now it fell onto her and her MBA. 

A knock on the door broke her train of thought. She looked up to see her mother lingering in the doorway. Primrose hadn’t even known she was at the nursery. But if there was anyone harder to keep away from her plants than Rosemary, it was Delia Marotto. 

“You don’t have to knock. That’s why the door is open.”

Her mother laughed. “You sound just like her.” But the comment lacked her usual mirth. Her usual overalls were replaced by a ratty gray sweatshirt, dreads braided into pigtails down her back. “How are you doing?” 

“I miss her,” Primrose answered. “But she wouldn’t want me to waste time crying over her.” 

“Crying ain’t wasting time, you know.” 

“I know.” But she let her attention fall back to the ledger. 

Her mother sat on the edge of the desk. “I don’t want to put more on your plate. But with you taking Mary’s place back here, and just figuring out how to run things with her gone, we’re gonna need some extra help.”

“You’re asking if I’m gonna lift Grandma’s embargo on Daisy working here,” Primrose said. 

She sighed. “Your grandmother said some harsh things about your sister. Some unfair judgements on why she wasn’t allowed to work here, ever again.” 

Those were certainly some words to describe what had happened. Delia had been hard at work in her greenhouse after she’d sent Sprout to talk to Grandma Rosemary, but Primrose had been right at the counter as she’d heard the yelling. 

“We don’t need your monsters running around. And I’ve already chosen Prim to succeed me. When I die, she’ll be the one in charge. She just has a better eye for business. You can muck up your mother’s garden, not mine.”

But Daisy was always stubborn. She just had to dig her heels in. Primrose, not too far from the closed door to her office, could only listen and wince.

“I can control it. I’ll wear gloves while I’m here. Or- or I can help Dad, I’m strong. It’s the 21st century, women can be strong too.”

“Wearing gloves is not controlling it. I would have never let Delia marry my son if I knew all of my grandchildren would be little freaks-”

“I’m not a freak!” 

“Then cover up those scars and do something about that hair. The Marotto name has been besmirched by your lack of self-control. Your sister-”

“Fuck Primrose! I’m not her, I don’t want to be her.” Sprout sniffled. “Why do you hate me? I just made one mistake.”

Whatever their grandmother said had been too quiet for Primrose to hear. The conversation had hung over her like a dark cloud. 

She had known already that her botanokinesis was weak, not as strong as either her sister’s or her mother’s. It dug at her a little that it was part of why her grandmother had preferred her over her siblings, especially after Basil got his terrakinesis. That and being named after her, of course. 

Primrose had never told her mother what Rosemary said about her. Not when she knew how she saw her as her only family. 

“It’s been a long time,” Delia said. “Rosemary designated you to handle the business side of things here. And hell, I don’t wanna be behind the desk. But Sprout’s waited long enough.” 

Would Daisy even want to come back? Last she checked, her sister was getting ready to transfer to UNBC to continue getting her bachelors’ in criminal justice. Maybe her dreams of being a private investigator rung unrealistic to her. But shit, Grandma Rosemary had been wrong about Daisy. She knew that she didn’t have to be like her if she didn’t want to. 

But it was more than that. “What about her Talent, Mom?” 

“She-” Delia closed her eyes, tears slipping out. “I couldn’t let her work with the plants like I do. Not just because of the- the florabeasts, or whatever her and Magni call them. Dr. Merlo said her botanokinesis is practically gone after the accident. She can’t manipulate the plants like I can.” 

It hated her to know that was one thing Primrose was better at than her. Even if by a fraction of difference. 

“I don’t think she’d even want to come back, Mom,” she said after a moment of silence. 

“I loved your grandmother. I really did. I still do.” Her mother shook her head. “But I should’ve pushed back harder. Your father as well. She was still just a kid, and maybe - I don’t know, maybe if we hadn’t been so afraid, it would have come back.” 

“Me too. Maybe I could’ve changed Grandma’s mind.”

She shook her head again. “Prim, you were barely older than she was. That’s my fault. I fought so hard for her against those awful Brashers, but I couldn’t do shit against my own mother-in-law.” 

Primrose closed the ledger in her lap. “I guess it’s too late for regrets.” 

Delia wiped her eyes. “Yeah.” 

But Primrose knew she was lying.