#who knows what my future will look like but this is my present and i will love this body while i inhabit it

[hannahbarberra162]

Hearts and Flowers (Sanji x Reader, Valentine's Day Special)

For @quinloki's Love Is In The Air event, I present my (day late) Sanji x Reader. All fluff, no bite. Dedicated to @thirstydiglett and @sordidmusings, my fellow Sanji simps.

@sordidmusings and @gouraminnow beta'd this for me and I appreciate it immensely.

WC: ~ 2k

Warnings: none <3

You swirled the pink colored drink Sanji had made for you as you watched him carefully cut fruits into heart shapes and place them delicately alongside the handmade chocolates he’d prepared in advance. You weren’t sure how he had managed to keep all this from Luffy but his efforts were paying off as the multi-tiered tower of desserts and treats for you, Nami and Robin came together under his watchful eye. The galley of the Sunny was decorated like one of those fancy magazines you’d read but couldn’t afford on islands - the counters were covered in tablecloths with red and pink decorations, cakes in the shapes of hearts and flowers were on the tables, and there was a mountain of wrapped presents waiting for you all, helpfully labeled with tags. 

You hadn’t known Sanji as long as Robin and Nami but had quickly understood the chef’s love of love when you came aboard the Thousand Sunny. He was always looking at beautiful women, always simping for you, Robin, and Nami, always thinking about his future bride and wedding. And yet, watching him place the melons and pineapple on the tower, you had an inkling something was amiss with the Love Chef.

“Sanji, do you like Valentine’s day?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Of course! Who wouldn’t want to celebrate the love of Mellorines and -” he started to say, a smile on his face that didn’t match the brilliant one you’d come to know and love. You tried to stop yourself but you found yourself watching the chef near constantly when you weren’t working - you knew his body language, his mannerisms, and could even predict what moves he’d use when fighting Zoro on the deck. Which is how you knew the smile on his face wasn’t completely genuine.

“No, what I mean is - do you like Valentine’s day? You specifically?” Sanji’s beautiful hands paused after placing the last fruit on the platter as he stared blankly at the creation he had made. 

“Would you care to accompany me while I go smoke on the deck?” he asked you, reaching for the cigarettes in his shirt pocket. You hoped you hadn’t made him upset in some way; you wouldn’t say anything to intentionally hurt his feelings. 

You would never admit it to Robin and especially not Nami for fear of teasing, but you harbored a huge crush on Sanji. He was sweet, handsome, kind, helpful, and strong, everything you could ever want in a man. Sure, he could get a little silly or flirty, but you felt that if he was in a relationship he would be loyal. Sanji was your dream man, but you felt unable to actually touch him, to get to the real man inside the character.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you replied, hopping off the barrel that had been your makeshift chair. You left your pink drink on the table as you passed in front of Sanji, who was holding the door open for you to exit first. You thought he’d go to the side of the ship but instead Sanji started to walk towards the ladder to the crow’s nest.

“Oh, wow, up here?” you asked, starting to climb. You were wearing a skirt and hoped the view would tempt him to flirt with you a little. It didn’t take anything at all to have him espousing his eternal love or bleeding from his nose and that was well and good. You’d been trying to get him to show a little true emotion but maybe starting with flirting might help loosen him up. Sanji was a lot more reserved than most people gave him credit for. His outward emotions were real and reflected his heart but he didn’t often share the depths of his thoughts or feelings with anyone, much less with the newest member of the Strawhats. 

“Mmh. I don’t want to ruin my Valentine’s Day surprises for Nami-swan and Robin-chwaan!” he said, his tone falsely saccharine. You climbed the rest of the way in silence, going towards the open window to air out the smoke of his cigarettes. Standing next to you, Sanji lit up and inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

“Sanji, what’s going on?” you asked, putting your hand on his forearm in concern.”I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You could never upset me, mon ange. But I have to admit I am a little surprised to be having this conversation. I - you’re the first person to ever ask me, but to answer plainly - no. I don’t like Valentine’s day. I haven’t since my days at the Baratie,” he explained, blowing smoke out the window. 

“Would you mind if I -?” you asked, sticking out your index and middle finger. 

“My pleasure, mon amor. Would you care for your own?” Sanji asked with a smile as he reached for the pack.

“No, I want - I like sharing them,” you said, aware a small blush was creeping up your face. Sanji didn’t say anything but placed his cigarette between your fingers, curling his long elegant ones around your palm for a moment.

“So, since the Baratie?” you asked, taking a drag of your own before passing back the cigarette.

“Mmh. Every year we’d get all these calls from wives and girlfriends, planning their own valentine's day celebrations. Sometimes the men would call, but not nearly as often. The women would be dolled up, looking incredible, while the men would be plain and boring, wearing unironed disgusting clothes. They’d bring tacky gifts that the women would pretend to like, while the men would pretend to listen to what their partners were saying. It was sickening,” Sanji spat, flicking the cigarette still between his fingers. He placed it gently once again between yours as you continued to listen. 

“It was so disgraceful, so distasteful, such a mockery of what love should be. If I was lucky enough to call someone my partner, they wouldn’t have to wait for Valentine’s day to feel the warmth of my love,” Sanji said with a faraway look in his eyes. You placed the cigarette back in his fingers, though it was nearly out. The tips of your fingers brushed his own as he looked you in the eyes. 

“Thank you, dearest heart. If I had someone who loved me as I loved them, they would know with every fiber of their being that I cared for them, that I yearned for them, that I needed them like I need air and water. I wouldn’t wait for some paltry date on the calendar to tell me to celebrate my love,” Sanji stated, flipping his hair out of his face as he continued. It fell immediately back into place as it was before but Sanji didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d celebrate every morning, noon, and night, cherishing my love with my whole heart. I’d devote every moment to making sure their life was as incredible as they made my own, whether that be in gift giving, or sweet words, or even just a gentle touch at the end of a long day,” he stated, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“My partner would never have to look farther than my loving arms to find what they needed in the world, and if I couldn’t provide it I would step aside and let them find better. Valentine’s day? What a cruel joke. If I had someone love me as I loved them, every day would be as romantic as Valentine’s day,” Sanji concluded, stubbing out the cigarette. You weren’t quite sure what to say to Sanji’s impassioned speech but had a follow up question.

“Sanji, I - then why make the big production? The cakes, the presents, the food and champagne? Why all the work for a holiday you don’t like?” you asked, leaning closer to him. He gave you a soft smile and caressed your cheek with a thumb, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Because I don’t want you to feel unloved. Robin and Nami never had the luxury of having Valentines, they were…busy. And how could I exclude you, ma vie? No, all of you must have the perfect Valentine’s day celebration and who else could pull it off? Not some idiot Marimo that’s for sure,” he said, now pulling another cigarette from his pocket while he distracted himself with thoughts of Zoro.

“That’s so selfless, Sanji. Thank you, this really is the best Valentine’s day I’ve ever had,” you stammered, unsure what to say in the face of Sanji’s vulnerability.

“Then it was worth the effort,” Sanji replied with his true smile, the one that made his eyes close with how high his cheeks rose on his face. Watching him carefully, you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him down towards your own. Sanji’s stubble was rough on your palms as his blue eye opened wide. Holding his face between your smaller hands, you pecked him lightly on his full lips. You’d spent countless hours day-dreaming of this moment, of how it would happen, and how he would react.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sanji,” you whispered, letting go of his face. Sanji’s face turned bright red as his fingers rose to trace where your lips had been, his mouth slightly open. He wasn’t responding, just staring at you in silence as you fidgeted, gripping the hem of your skirt in your fists. You couldn’t look at him in the unbearable silence so you turned to go back down the ladder. Sanji caught your forearm gently before you could leave, pulling on it without force. As you turned to face him you saw his forehead was scrunched up, the swirly eyebrow you longed to trace with your finger tip tilted up in silent question.

“Mon cherie, you didn’t have to do that. I don’t need any kind of -” 

“I didn’t have to, I wanted to,” you said softly, reaching for his face like he had yours a few moments prior. He flinched back ever so slightly but allowed you to cup his cheek as you looked into his kind face, unguarded and vulnerable for a few moments longer before both of you had to return to reality and get back to party preparation.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time, Sanji. I’m sorry for not asking first, if you never want to talk about this again I, -” your voice was quiet but determined but you were cut off as Sanji leaned forward to return your kiss. One of his hands went to the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head in his splayed fingers, while the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards his lithe body. He kissed you tenderly, almost reverently, like you’d combust into smoke should he press too hard. His lips sought yours at every turn, gently coaxing you into opening your mouth for him so he could deepen the kiss. He moaned into your mouth when you nipped his lip gently with your teeth before returning the favor. He was breathing heavily as he began to press kisses into the column of your neck.

“Ma bichette, please, do me the honor of being my Valentine this year,” he mumbled into your skin as you tilted your head to the side to give him more access.

“I t-thought you didn’t li-ike Valentine’s day,” you squeaked as he mouthed over your jaw. His eyes looked up at your own as he smiled.

“You have shown me the error of my ways, mon tresor.”

[angelackless]

LOVE LETTERS & HEART-SHAPED COOKIES

Jensen Ackles X controversially young!reader

WITH JENSEN EVERYDAY FELT LIKE VALENTINE'S DAY TO YOU. There were always a flower,jewelry, your favorite chocolate's waiting for you somewhere in the house. Jensen loved spoiling you, and he took every chance to do it, but on Valentine's day he wanted to do something more meaningful, since it was your first time celebrating it together.

He even asked for help from his mother, your mother,your friends, even Gen to make sure that what he does is good and you'll love it.

He got everything ready by the time you arrived home, he cooked your favorite food, poured out that red wine he knows you like, lighted some scented candles and had your presents in a bow printed wrapping paper, and one in his jeans, and no, this time it wasn't the one that he makes you feel good with every day.

When you entered the house you were met with the dimly lit house, you took your shoes and coat down, putting it into it's place.

"Jensen?" you walked deeper inside the house "are you home?" instead of an answer you felt two strong arms wrapped around you and for a second you were ready to hit him with your purse in case someone broke in, but then he finally spoke up

"happy Valentine's day, princess" he kissed your cheek

"you scared the shit out of me!' you said and turned around, giving a snack to his chest "don't do that again!"

"Just wanted to suprise you,baby" his hand found their way back to your waist and pulled you closer to him "you had a hard day?I made you your favorite, and after we ate, we can put on some music, dance, you can open your presents" he rubbed your sides "hm?sounds good?"

And you did just that, you two ate the food he made, which was delicious by the way, and then moved to the living room. You went upstairs to get the present you made for him.

''so who starts?'' you asked as you sat down on the couch next to him

"you" he answered smiling

"alright,so it's nothing expensive,but I hope you'll still like it" you said and handed him the wrapped gift. He took it from you and carefully opened the gift, which was a photo album that you've made, you left lyrcs,photos, sweet messages for him in it, you wanted to give him something meaningful and figured he would like this, since it's not fully finished you two can fill it up with all the memories you make in the future. "You like it?'' your words held some excitement, and worry in them as you watched him flip through the pages,sometimes stopping to read what you've written down in there

"Like it?I love it,this is like the best gift i've ever gotten" he looked up to meet your gaze "I love it, princess" he pulled you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead "can't wait to put more pictures in it, we should just have one whole page for you in lingerie" he added with a cheeky smile which made you rolled your eyes

"okay,safe something for your birthday too" you said shaking your head

"oh, that's what i'll get for my birthday?"

"it's a suprise" you answered giggling

"Well,speaking of suprises, open yours now" he handed it to you "hope you like them" he added and watched you open it. You opened it excitedly.

He had gotten you the necklace from Pandora that you've mentioned you wanted, a bottle of your favorite perfume, he knows you need one because you've been complaining that you almost finished the bottle you've been using, there were some heart-shaped cookies he made for you.

"You made this?" you asked staring at the cookies

"Yeah, although Gen helped me with the decorating,but I made everything else"

"I love all of this so much" you wrapped your arms around him tightly "thank you so so much''

"there's one more thing" he pulled away from you and cleared his throat "so...i've been thinking about us, how I now sure that you're the woman that I want to marry, have kids with, move to some small town and live on a farm" he searched for something in his pocket and then he stood up and kneeled down before you ''(y/n), will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?" he asked, holding the shiny, gold ring in his fingers.

For moments you sat there shocked, you didn't know if you wanted to scream or cry from happiness, after seconds of staring at him you managed to nod your head and speak "yes,yes,yes,and yes"

"you got me worried for a second, sweetheart" he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed your hand.

"so that means I can call you my husband now?" You asked smiling

"yes,you can call me your husband, wife" he chuckled and pulled you into a kiss.

You were sure this was your best Valentine's day so far in your whole life.

[flawseer]

What's your opinion of what everyone did after the sealing of Darkstalker in the legends book? It just seemed way too quick with how they just moved on from the horrors, as Fathom and Indigo had kids and Clearsight flew off to a new continent to have kids with and create a whole new tribe. On another note, considering how Fathom was kind of banished (from what I remember) and had kids split off from the Royal Family, do you think there may be a descendant of Fathom somewhere hiding with Animus powers? Or do you think they just ended up being adopted back into the royal family after being discovered?

I personally consider Legends: Darkstalker the best book in the series, in part because I believe Sutherland's writing shines when she is not binding herself to the 5 books arc structure.

That said, the ending does have a bit of that one particular prequel problem. You know, the one where the characters are confirmed to be at a certain location in the future, so they absolutely HAVE to end the prequel story getting to that location IMMEDIATELY.

That's what I was thinking with regards to Clearsight's ending. Now, everyone deals with trauma differently, so I can only comment on her actions from my own limited point of view. I don't think I could have done what she did, at least not so suddenly. She had relationships beyond Darkstalker, with Listener and her parents, whom she presumably was still on good terms with. Like, especially her parents I think never actually learned what happened to her. They might have continued living thinking their only daughter died in the evacuation.

When I think of that part of the book, I personally like to envision an epilogue where Clearsight returns to her parents and lives with the Nightwings for a while (a couple years maybe). Her parents are supportive and Listener is grateful and admires her friend for saving her family. So much so that she reverses her stance on futuresight and authors a scroll about it, crediting Clearsight as a master prophet (this is the scroll that Moonwatcher later reads).

But the other Nightwings still fear Darkstalker, and they remember his girlfriend who stood on stage with him and looked at him adoringly as Darkstalker massacred his own father (they don't know she was tricking Darkstalker). So there is public tension building at Clearsight living with them, and it begins to negatively impact the people who support her. In the end, Clearsight decides to leave the tribe, both to protect her loved ones from getting caught up in her fallout and to separate herself from all that trauma and find her fortune on the new continent.

Notably, she actually tells her friends and parents about that plan this time, and they don't spend the rest of their lives wondering what happened.

As for Fathom and any potential descendants, there is a 'realistic but boring' answer, and one that is a bit more interesting narratively.

The boring answer is that, yes, there are descendants of Fathom around. Lots of them. It is inevitable. If you take an individual and step back one generation, you find they will have 2 parents. Above that they have 4 grandparents. Then 8 great-grandparents, 16 great-great-grandparents. At 10 generations back we are looking at 1024 theoretical ancestors. Now as these numbers get bigger, some of these lines will cross-breed with each other again, so the math isn't entirely clean, but just trust me that these numbers balloon really fast the more generations you go back.

Fathom was alive 2000 years ago. If we lean conservatively and say the average dragon has eggs at age 20, that means 100 generations have come and gone from then to today. The number of ancestors over this many generations is so high, you might pick any Seawing currently alive in present day and there will be a very decent chance of them having Fathom somewhere in their bloodline.

You go back far enough and everyone starts to be related to everyone else. Ancestry is funny like that.

For the more narratively interesting answer: I do believe Fathom re-integrated into the royal family again. One thing that needs to be kept in mind is that Pearl, like her brother, also had her entire life uprooted by the Royal Seawing Massacre. She was all at once dealing with the shock of losing her parents and the stress of having to now run the entire kingdom without being prepared for it at all. There was no time to process any grief, or the lingering fear. When she sent her brother away and forbade him to have children, that wasn't an act of malice, it was the only solution she could think of to keep everyone safe from the future threat of magic without also having to execute the last part of her family.

Neither of them ever had any ill will against the other. Pearl was dealt the shittiest of hands and she tried to make the best play she could at the time, while desperately trying to keep herself together. That is what I think.

As Pearl and Fathom got older and the situation in the Sea Kingdom stabilized, Pearl might have finally been able to reflect upon what happened and to process some of her neglected emotional turmoil. I believe Fathom eventually reached out again and they both found a way to reconcile, mending their fractured relationship. I don't know if Fathom moved back into the palace; perhaps he chose to stay away to keep the rest of the populace at ease. But I think his children or grand-children would eventually re-integrate into the royal family.

This turned out a bit wordy and the question was sitting in my inbox for a good while. But I hope this provides an interesting answer.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 143 (The Wedding Reception)

After the newlyweds and their guests posed for photos, they had just enough remaining light to mingle before the caterers - Suri and her grandmother, Clara Bjergsen - put out the food. With permission, Ash raced into the spiral maze to take a selfie with Sophie the Snail, searching for treasures in the ferns beneath the carved stone slug.

What he found looked confusing - like a mint green box with a circle of numbers wearing earmuffs, and Ash raced back to ask his family what it was. "I think it could be a telephone," Heather guessed. "They used to be plugged into walls."

Felix smiled. "I haven't seen one of those for at least sixty years! It's a rotary dial phone. You dial the number by spinning the wheel. But people used to think this took too much time, so they invented phones with buttons and speed dials, and these fell out of use."

Ash was enthralled by what Felix knew of history. "Will it still work?"

"I don't think so. Most landlines have been discontinued because everyone uses mobile phones these days."

Ash glanced eagerly at Heather and Conrad. "Can I still keep it? It looks so cool!"

Heather smiled. "Of course you can. That's how Sophie the Snail works. Leave something for someone else to find, and whatever you find yourself is yours to keep!"

Curious Conrad looked at the old fashioned phone. "I wonder who left it there."

"Do you think it was the time traveler Emit Relevart is looking for?"

Heather shrugged. "I looked him up online after we saw the report on Simlandia National, but I didn't find out anything they weren't already reporting on the news. He loves science and technology, believes in time travel, and has blue hair."

Felix and Lilith perked up as Lavender called her mother's attention. "You saw the news report, too? I've been trying to convince Felix to take a detour to Willow Creek on our way back to Britechester to see if we can find him."

The former ghost smiled at his beloved. "After everything with Ash in Sulani, you still want to jump through time? I've told you the past wasn't nearly as wonderful as the present."

"Right, but you said it wasn't as wonderful because I wasn't there. My podcast would blow up if I could talk about what it's like to time travel! But more than the podcast, I want to see things you've seen, with you, and I bet a time traveler could help us!"

Though less enthusiastic, Felix took seriously his responsibility to make Lilith happy. Love like this was exactly what he'd stuck around for, waiting for his chance to live again. "It would be a dream to walk miles of old streets with you, Lil. We'll go to Willow Creek, find this 'Emit,' and we'll see what he knows about the future."

To make it to Willow Creek and home to Britechester before too late, Felix and Lilith left soon after food was served. Kris also returned early to San Myshuno with Betta when the four-year-old grew tired and cranky, but there were still plenty of loved ones left to enjoy the buffet-style spread, including fruit-decorated cupcakes instead of a cake, just like Lavender had requested.

They were grateful to Suri and her grandmother for providing such wonderful food. Conrad even gave Suri a huge amount of money autonomously (all of it wtf?! At least we have a money tree), calling it an investment into her takeover of the Salty Paw, and her hope to turn it from a dive bar to a slightly more upscale licensed cafe.

"I can't believe you and Heather would do that for me," said Suri with a smile and warm embrace for the groom. "My catering rates are a lot lower than this!"

"You're a great chef and we believe in your ideas. Hazel loves you, and Heather and I believe in your plans for the Salty Paw. Just try not to lose that smell about the place. We'll miss it if you really clean it up."

Suri laughed. "You're in luck. I don't think that smell would disappear even if I tore down every single wall and built from the ground up."

Heather spent extra time catching up with her sister Holly, who she hadn't spent meaningful time with since the winter holidays. "Life is busy in the city with Kris and two busy girls, but that's nothing compared to what you've been through lately."

"I really think Ash has been okay since it happened, but we're going to take him to a counselor, regardless. He has a lot of questions about everything, but he really seems like himself."

"But how are you doing? Your son was kidnapped!"

"Honestly? As long as I remind myself he's okay, I don't beat myself up with guilt. But sometimes I watch him sleep just to make sure he's still there. Conrad wants to put a sofa in his bedroom so I get enough rest for the baby."

"And his ex is definitely going to prison?"

Heather nodded. "She's not getting a jury trial and Rafa gave up details on several unsolved cases, plus the whereabouts of some weapons stockpiles around the city, so Felix is fairly confident he'll get his sentence down to a year, at most, because he was a minor for most of the stuff he's wanted for."

"He killed all those men; aren't you worried he's dangerous?"

Heather shook her head. "I used to be, but I met him. And after everything he's done, I'd trust him with my own life. We would have wanted him here for the wedding if he wasn't in custody."

As the night wore on, guests ate and chatted while Lavender occupied her doting grandparents' attention, and Heather finally found a moment to chat with Mortimer about her recent trip to Selvadorada. She'd been meaning to ask him about the medallion she and Spencer had seen at the museum, inscribed with a message from Malcolm A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth, but she'd been so busy since her return.

"Lady Ravendancer was my great-great-grandmother," admitted Mortimer, his brow creased in thought. "Family rumours of her infidelity to my great-great-grandfather, Lord Samuel Goth, have carried for over a century, but the medallion would be the first piece of evidence to support it."

The writer smiled to himself as he considered the historical discoveries he might find - a dramatic story of betrayal and spellcaster magic, if they were lucky. "If my great-great-grandmother had an affair with a Landgraab, it could explain how the families became such fierce rivals in business. The Landgraabs wanted to settle the west, but the Goths wouldn't let them do it alone."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the old pirate's curse you told me about?"

Mortimer shot her a look of sympathy. "It might. I should make a trip out to visit the family archives in Willow Creek; it might give more insight on this medallion in the jungle."

She thanked him as the moon came out above the trees. Lavender curled into a ball to nap on the benches near her sleepy Aunt Hazel and Uncle River - it had been a long day and was now well past her bedtime - and the guests slowly began to wish the newlyweds well and head home. Ash made his way to the treehouse to play, changing into warmer attire as a sign the wedding festivities were drawing to a close.

Heather and Conrad had no time for a honeymoon and returned to their busy lives in Brindleton Bay, but they would cherish the memories made today for the rest of their lives. ->

<- Previous Part (Wedding Album) | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: And that's it! Conther is married!! I realize this reception was a lot of just letting sims do autonomous things and didn't have any photogenic traditions like first dances and cake-cutting, but letting sims be sims gives surprising plot sometimes! It led to Conrad and Heather giving money to Suri "to invest in her upscale cafe," which I didn't plan for but it's indicative of how supportive this legacy family is, and they've accepted Suri despite the scandalous start to her relationship with Hazel, so I liked it! (After getting over the initial shock of having zero simoleons out of nowhere! This autonomous interaction is always such a jump scare, like 'where is all my money?!' 😂)

I also got to send Ash for a selfie with Sophie, to mirror the one his mother took at the statue in childhood because someone (I think @pixeldistractions? I'm sorry if I'm misremembering!) suggested making it tradition, while also tying it in to the Blast From the Past event. No he didn't really find the phone under there as part of the quests but since it's a common hiding place for some exciting things, I had to pretend he did. He really found some snowdrops, which is cool because winter just ended for the next 16 years! Nonetheless, he'll hold on to them, because my sims hoard things in their inventories like mad, just in case I can use them later.

[esquilone]

What I would say/i guess about women who are attracted to Dutch Van der Linde and Sean MacGuire:

RDR2 and You

❤︎ Based on that request! ❤︎

❤︎ Note: the images aren't mine, they're from Pinterest, I just edited them and changed details and made a cover for this post! :p

Right... I don't think Dutch and Sean are characters I'm going to be able to give a good assessment of, so much so that my focus is more on Micah and Javier, but I've done some research with some things I already knew, I've just added them with others and put together some unfinished texts, okay? I hope they match up a bit with reality and what I believe would make a woman like men who look the same as them.

𝓓𝓾𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓥𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮 -

Why do some women like Dutch van der Linde?

Dutch has an absurd magnetism. He is a charismatic leader, always with a speech ready and the ability to make anyone believe in him. This can be attractive because he has that energy of a “great man, a man who knows how to solve everything.”someone who seems to know exactly what he is doing (even when, in reality, he is just improvising so he doesn’t appear to be falling apart).

Psychologically, he represents that figure of the “revolutionary dreamer,” someone who challenges the system and promises a better future. Many people are drawn to this kind of idealism, even when it turns dangerous. He also has a way of seducing without needing to be direct, simply through the power of words and presence. Want proof? Many incredibly intelligent members (Arthur included) followed Dutch and Hosea blindly. However, I strongly believe that Dutch always had a slightly psychotic tendency. I firmly think he struggled against his own selfishness and greed because Hosea was there to put him in his place. He probably revealed this side of himself during the Blackwater massacre and robbery, but the ones who witnessed it are already dead, so no one could say anything without proof. Hosea often showed both excitement and disagreement toward Dutch’s plans, and I believe it was because he had already seen that darker side of him.

As the game progresses, he reveals this dark side more and more—he becomes paranoid and manipulative, his biggest red flag. However, this doesn’t stop some women from being attracted to complicated men, thinking they can “save” them or bring back their good side. (I mentioned this in my analysis of Micah.)

I believe Dutch truly loved once, and that was Annabelle, who was murdered by Colm O’Driscoll. He becomes violent and loses patience when talking to Colm about her, not because Colm apologized, but because he showed complete disdain for what happened. I think this event pushed Dutch further toward becoming cold and violent out of pure selfishness. So yes, if Dutch loved a woman enough, he could sacrifice anything for revenge in her name. He mentions more than twice how much he despises Colm for killing her, and Arthur even tells him something like, “You should let go of revenge, you killed his brother first once.” But Dutch refuses to let it go.

Dutch's old love: Annabel

Anabelle is one of the greatest mysteries of Dutch’s past, something he never truly got over. She is almost like a ghost in his story—someone who represents a time when he was still a different man, perhaps more noble, less corrupted by his own pride. We already know she was murdered by Colm O’Driscoll—I’ve mentioned this before—the impact of her death is one of the reasons why he never truly committed to anyone again. He may have romanticized Anabelle in his mind, turning her into a perfect and unattainable figure. This might explain why he never treated Molly the same way.

And what about Molly O’Shea?

To me, Molly is a perfect example of someone who fell in love with the idea of Dutch rather than the real man he was. In fact, I believe he presented himself as the perfect, caring man to her—maybe because, in some way, she reminded him of Anabelle. Molly got involved with this strong and charismatic leader. She is described as a woman of “high class and society,” so we see that she left some things behind—perhaps for Dutch? I’m not 100% sure, because Molly is a proud woman, someone who wants to be seen and considered the best. She wanted to be the woman by his side, but Dutch never gave her the attention she craved. He was more focused on the gang and his own delusions of grandeur.

So as time passed, she realized that he was not really available for her, not giving her attention that she had always received, without time for her. This led her to a cycle of frustration and resentment, until, in a moment of anger, she made the mistake of saying that she betrayed him (when in fact, she didn't) she just wanted him to look at her again like the first time, you see that she drank, probably because she lacked the courage to say everything she wanted.

Molly was nothing more than a shadow of what Dutch wanted—a woman who loved him desperately but could never reach his heart. She spent her time trying to be seen by him, wanting the love he had already given to someone else, and she was consumed by it. Molly's tragedy is that she was just one more in the long list of people who believed too much in Dutch and ended up destroyed by it.

Attraction to Men Like Dutch – The Fascination with Power, Dangerous Charisma, and Protection:

Women who are typically attracted to men like Dutch are often influenced by deeper psychological factors, which can range from unconscious patterns to past experiences. His manipulative charisma triggers something called the halo effect, where his intelligence and eloquence make him seem more trustworthy and desirable than he actually is, creating the illusion that there is no need to worry because he appears to predict and plan everything before it happens. Additionally, there is the visionary leader archetype, someone who seems to understand the world better than others, a man who promises a grand future—something extremely attractive to those seeking emotional security or meaning in life.

(Most people who seek emotional and physical security are women, which is why it is not uncommon for younger women to choose older men, as in some cases they resemble the protective presence of a maternal figure, but in a romantic sense.)

Another explanation may also lie in what is called attraction to the charismatic narcissist. Men like Dutch are magnetic because they project absolute confidence and power, qualities that can activate primitive instincts of survival and protection. Some women also feel that they could be the “exception” for him, the only one capable of conquering his true love and being the constant companion by his side, which reinforces and fits into the savior fantasy, where they believe they can bring out the good side of a troubled man. But in the end, this usually leads to frustration and pain because the truth is, Dutch belongs to no one but himself—and perhaps his first true love. If you happened to be the kind of woman he truly desires, he might surrender that pride for love, but you would have to be the most unforgettable. He is the type of man who is nearly impossible to have kneeling at your feet.

What would it be like to be in a relationship with him?

If Dutch were truly in love, the relationship would be intense and psychological. He thrives on control and admiration, so he’d naturally take on a protective, almost mentor-like role with a younger woman. He’d enjoy being the one who teaches, impresses, and leads. In the beginning, he’d be incredibly charming—seductive, confident, making her feel like the most important person in the world. But Dutch also has a narcissistic side. He craves absolute loyalty and validation, and if he ever felt like he was losing control or giving in too much, he could emotionally distance himself. If she became an obstacle to his ambitions, he would likely grow cold, prioritizing his dreams over her. Dutch always seeks something greater, something that fuels his ego, and if he ever felt trapped, he wouldn’t hesitate to walk away.

However, if she wasn’t an obstacle—if she admired him, supported his vision, and fueled his sense of power—then he could be deeply devoted in his own way. He would spoil her with attention, make her feel special, and keep her close as his most trusted confidante. As long as she reinforced his greatness and never made him feel small, she could be the one person he’d truly hold onto.

What would it be like if it was the opposite of an obstacle, but rather his pure Love for her?

If Dutch truly loved this woman and saw her as his ally, he would be intense and protective. His affection would come through striking gestures—firm embraces, deep kisses, holding her waist or face while speaking in an intimate and captivating tone. He would love to see her admiration and make sure she knew how special she was.

He would show his affection through small luxuries—a ring, a necklace, or something symbolic; he is a man of refined tastes. If she strengthened his pride, he would protect her above all else. In his most vulnerable moments, he might lower his guard only for her, lying beside her at night, sharing his dreams and fears—things he would never admit to anyone else.

( - ❤︎ - )

𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓬𝓖𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓮 -

Sean???? Oh my, he's the complete opposite of Dutch, I know a few things about him that I believe define him as the man he is; boy, Sean seems to be younger, not as young as Lenny or Tilly, but young, Arthur calls him a "kid" sometimes. He's that outgoing guy, who makes fun of everything and never takes himself seriously. He has a chaotic and youthful energy, a free spirit that likes a good fight and a good drink. Many women are attracted to this type of personality because he is the opposite of monotony. It brings fun, and a little irresponsibility. Psychologically, he can represent that guy who makes you forget the problems, who requires nothing but to live in the moment. In addition, he has an Irish accent that can be very charming for some people, and his self-confidence (even exaggerated) gives a certain charm. I've talked to some people in English and I don't understand the accent because everything seems the same to me, but the redneck accent of the United States I can feel when they speak, so the Irish would be a faster accent and with some elongated words when pronounced. He is bold, playful, often drunk—a man who takes pleasure in teasing and being teased. He makes people laugh when they don’t want to, and even when the entire gang is sighing in frustration, they know he’s an enjoyable presence. He pulls you into situations you never imagined yourself in, and suddenly, you realize you’re enjoying it. There’s something pure about the way he throws himself into life—fearless, without overthinking the future. He may not be the most reliable, he may be reckless and quite irresponsible, but there’s something charming about that—because with him, life is never dull.

Sean MacGuire’s Possible Red Flags:

Sean has always had a chaotic energy—in a fun way—but he can also be frustrating. He’s not the kind of man you can trust with your life—let alone your heart. He’s the guy who disappears for days and returns as if nothing happened, probably laughing with a wild story to tell. He also has an inflated ego, always believing he’s the center of attention, which can be annoying if someone tries to have a serious conversation with him.

And… what about Karen? Well, they had a fling during Sean’s welcome-back party at camp, but it was never serious. Sean never seemed like the type to commit—he lives in the moment and doesn’t get attached. That carefree attitude can be thrilling for someone looking for excitement, but frustrating for someone wanting something deeper. He makes you feel special in the moment, but the next day, he might be making another woman laugh just the same. However, he didn’t really flirt with other women at camp, at least not openly. There’s even a scene where Karen almost slaps him, possibly days after their fling, and later she cries, saying he only cares about her when he’s drunk. Sean asks why she’s upset, and she just says everything is fine and tells him to keep doing whatever he was doing. After his death in Rhodes, Karen starts drinking heavily, which might say more about how much she actually cared.

What Attracts Women to Sean?

If Dutch is a dangerous addiction, Sean is pure mischief. What makes him attractive is that he has no filter—he says what he thinks, and what he thinks is usually funny. Physically, he has a rougher charm. He’s not the best-looking guy in camp (at least not in my opinion!), but he has that mischievous smile, that glint in his eye that makes it seem like he has a secret only you can uncover. He’s not a typical heartthrob, but his energy is irresistible. Many women end up with men who make them laugh, caring less about looks when the personality is that magnetic. His carefree and spontaneous nature is also a big part of his appeal. He’s not always trying to impress—he simply is that way. That makes interactions with him feel genuine, even if he’s not the most reliable man around. For those who love a free spirit, someone who lives without fear or restraint, Sean is hard to ignore.

His playful and teasing nature creates a quick sense of intimacy, like he’s someone you can truly be yourself around—laugh until your stomach hurts and forget about your worries. He provokes and challenges, but never in a threatening way, which can be exciting. And his slightly childish pride can even be charming, making it feel like he’s always trying to impress, even if he won’t admit it.

Attraction to Men Like Sean – The Charm of the Teaser and the Free Spirit

Men like Sean represent a different kind of psychological fascination. They are teasers, playful, and INSISTENT, which triggers a phenomenon called the chase effect—the idea that the more someone provokes and challenges you, the more engaging they become. Their bold and daring nature creates tension, a push-and-pull dynamic that can be exciting for many women.

Additionally, Sean fits the archetype of the man who pursues, which can activate something known as validation through desire—when someone feels more attractive and valued because they are being intensely desired. He has no fear of showing interest, and that can be irresistible, especially in contrast to men who are more closed off or indifferent. He’s not a bad choice. c:

How could Sean be if he was really attracted in the romantic sense, by a woman?

If Sean truly liked a woman, he would show affection in a spontaneous and playful way. He’s not the type for grand romantic declarations, but he’d express his feelings through teasing, cheeky nicknames, and casual touches—throwing his arm around her shoulders or messing up her hair just to hear her complain. He would probably try to impress her by telling exaggerated (or completely made-up) stories about his adventures, just to make her laugh. In more sincere moments, he might lower his guard and be surprisingly sweet—holding her hand when no one was looking or pulling her into a dance for no reason, just because. And despite his reckless nature, if he truly cared, he would try to protect her in his own way, even if it meant getting into trouble to defend her.

At his core, Sean’s affection would come from his loyalty and the way he’d make sure to always be around, making life lighter and more fun.

Conclusion:

Dutch Van der Linde and Sean are the complete opposite of each other, each reflecting a different type of masculine figure for different women, or perhaps there are high and low levels! It all depends on the person.

I hope you liked it, goodbye! ❤︎

[bookshelf-in-progress]

For a Song: A Retelling of "The Lute Player"

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge hosted by @inklings-challenge, here is a retelling of a fairy tale known as "The Lute Player" (also drawing from similar tales within the subgenre of "The Faithful Wife", like "The Tsaritsa Harpist" and "Conrad van Tannenberg").

Alexander

The world wants me to forget my wife. In the enemy's dungeons, I am not a man—I am a prisoner and a slave, with no past and no future. At dawn, I wake and am driven to the fields, whipped and worked like a beast. After dark, I collapse onto a pile of straw in a damp stone cell, too tired to think or dream.

Yet I try to remember. My Tatyana is a queen, regal and poised. She has hair as red as autumn, eyes the deep blue of a mountain lake. Her hands are elegant, with long, slender fingers. Her lips… Her lips…she has two of them, I know, but whether they are full or thin, rounded or tapered…I must…I will remember.

Even when the details of her face fade, her voice is clear in my memory. Rich and low, as sweet and resonant as a clarinet. I can hear her making speeches, reading poems, speaking words of love. Most of all, I can hear her sing. Her voice is a priceless instrument that she can tune to sound like a nightingale, an angel, a church organ, an orchestra. Her voice was the first thing I fell in love with, and it seems to call to me across the miles, across the years, giving me hope that she still lives, that she loves me, that she is waiting…

I left my kingdom in her care when I went to war. She is a queen who can wield her power well. She is intelligent, decisive, clever, compassionate. She can keep my ministers in check, guide my people, and guard my throne. But how long can she wait? How long can they go without word from me before they presume I died in the battle at that mountain pass? Before the woman I love consigns me to memory and gives her living heart to another?

These thoughts torment me on a stormy morning when I lay trapped in my cell. The weather is too wet for even King Vulric to send his slaves into the fields, but without the crushing labor to distract me, my fears are free to run wild. What if my wife has forgotten me? What if she prefers to rule alone? An unattached woman, with beauty, talent, power—what use would she have for a wretch like me?

I fight the thoughts as fiercely as I once fought enemy soldiers. Tatyana is good and true. I love her with all my heart and soul, and she loves me in return. If I get word to her, she will come instantly, with armies, caravans, banners. She will pay any price to redeem me. I must never doubt. Never forget.

I drift into a restless slumber, tossing and turning on my straw, wincing from the pain in my sores. I am woken by a shout, and I look up into the face, not of the usual witless brute of a guard, but a sharp-eyed man in silken robes—a messenger to the king.

It seems the messenger has remembered that I am no ordinary prisoner, even if his king has forgotten. He offers me pen and paper and urges me to write a letter to my wife. I know he hopes for a rich reward, and I promise he will receive one when the letter is delivered.

I take up the pen and write desperately, urgently, eagerly, pouring out years of pent-up love and desperation, at last calling back to the voice that has called me for so long.

Remember me.

Save me.

Come.

Come.

Come.

Tatyana

The world wants me to forget my husband. Three long years have passed with no word from him. My advisors urge me to give the crown and my heart to another. Men of rank and ambition offer me rich presents, whisper words of devotion, urge me to strengthen the throne with a masculine presence. Yet I am faithful. My heart is wholly Alexander’s. If my husband is alive, I keep his throne for him. If he is dead, I honor his memory.

His face is before me always—his dark hair, his thick brows, his crooked nose, his deep blue eyes. I first fell in love with his hands—strong enough to swing a sword, soft enough to soothe a child. He is strong and gentle, just and merciful. When he heard of how King Vulric oppressed his people, he could do nothing but go to war, and he went with my blessing. I never thought I would be alone this long.

Every day, I wait for word. Every day, I pray that he lives.

The prayer is answered on a hot, still evening, when I sit alone in my council chamber. Just as I consider returning to my private rooms, a guard comes rushing in.

“Majesty!” he cries. “A messenger! From foreign lands!”

I rise from my seat. My heart sits in my throat. My life hinges on this message. In a moment I will know if I am a wife or a widow.

A messenger enters, dusty and travel-worn—he places a letter in my palm. It is written in Alexander’s hand. Sealed with Alexander’s ring.

I laugh for joy, and soon, I find I am singing. My lost husband is found. He has risen from the dead. My heart is full to bursting.

I open the letter and drink in his writing. He lives. He loves me. He is prisoner in King Vulric's dungeons, put to work like a slave, but he is alive—and he can be redeemed.

Alexander urges me to sell all I can for the ransom. Jewels, horses, palaces, land—I am given authority to sell it all, if only it means he can come home to me.

I consider the problem through the long summer night. I would gladly give all I own to have my husband again, but who could I trust to deliver the bounty? The ministers loyal to Alexander are not shrewd enough to arrange favorable terms; those shrewd enough to trade I do not trust to serve my husband loyally. I cannot go myself—King Vulric would simply claim me as another of his wives.

But what if I were a man?

By dawn, I have my plan. I will not travel with armies, with caravans, or even companions. They will only slow me down. I will cut my hair, dress in a man's clothing, take on the disguise of a traveling minstrel. My voice is a treasure beyond all the gold in the world; it will be enough to redeem my husband.

In the morning, I leave the kingdom in the hands of my most trusted advisor. By afternoon, I have clothes, food, and money enough for a long journey. At midnight, I cut my hair, and save the red tresses in a trunk for Alexander to admire upon his return. At dawn, I leave the palace, with a pack on my back, a lute in my hands, and a song in my heart.

I’m coming

I’m coming.

I’m coming.

Alexander

Somewhere in the world beyond my dungeon, my wife is waiting. This truth keeps me strong through the long days of suffering. My heart is with the letter, following its path. Now, it is on its way to her. Now, it is in her hands. Today, perhaps, she is on the road, coming to ransom me.

I imagine her coming in full royal glory, showing the strength of the throne to this barbarian king. She will be radiant in queenly regalia, backed by a full company of soldiers. Her love for me will let her do no less.

My strength means that the overseers work harder to break me. I work for hours in the fields, forced to pull a plow through the dry earth. I am lashed for the slightest infractions. I suffer sunstroke and starvation.

One day, when I stop my work to help an injured slave, I am beaten by the overseer and left overnight in the fields, too weak to run away. Once, this might have driven me to despair, but in the freezing moonlight, I nearly laugh for joy. What does it matter if I cannot move? My Tatyana is coming.

At dawn, a hired worker finds me and leads me back to the dungeon. I am cast onto my pile of straw, shaking and burning up with fever. I see Tatyana’s face in a thousand waking dreams. She is dancing. She is crying. She is tending to my wounds. She is traveling to find me. She is entertaining suitors. She is laughing at my belief that she would leave her palace to rescue me.

At last, I fall into restless sleep. Shadows and sounds move around me. Strange hands tend my wounds, give me water, force me to swallow horrid concoctions.

After who knows how many days, I wake into cold reality. My muscles are withered. My limbs are weak. A fellow prisoner bathes my head with precious water. I am awake enough to know my danger. The delirium has passed, but my body lingers near the brink of death.

Will Tatyana come in time?

Tatyana

Somewhere in the dungeons below this palace, my husband is waiting. I have traveled for weeks, across plains, rivers, and deserts. I have slept on the hard ground. I have foraged for food, bargained for water.

Now, I stand in the palace of the cruelest, richest king on Earth. The walls are made of marble, every fixture made of gold. Precious jewels are inlaid in every tile of every floor. Golden tables sag under the weight of a feast that offers meat, bread, fruit, cakes, and vegetables from every corner of the world.

At the top of the room, King Vulric sits in a throne of pure gold, swathed in brightly colored robes. Despite the feast that surrounds him, he looks less satisfied than some of the beggars I have met in my travels.

His dark eyes glitter as I approach. My travel-worn red cloak and lute proclaim me a minstrel.

“Name yourself,” King Vulric demands. “From where do you hail?”

I have always been an able mimic. I answer in the tenor of a young man. “I call myself Karol, and I have no home save the one the music brings me to.”

“They tell me that you play the lute.”

“I have played for kings,” I say. I played for my husband nearly every night of our marriage.

One corner of King Vulric's mouth lifts in a cruel smile. “You have not played for me. I am a lover of music, yet there is little anymore that can please me. If your song satisfies me, I shall count you greater than any of the treasures in my palace. If it does not, you shall be whipped and left for the vultures.”

In answer, I smile softly, and take the lute off my back.

I sing in a voice that matches the tones of Karol’s. The notes flow sweet as honey on my tongue, ring around the room as though carried by angels. The guests at the feast, who had paid little heed to the ragged minstrel, fall silent after the first notes. By the end of the song, tears stream down King Vulric's face.

When the last notes fade, I bow solemnly. “If my music pleases you, majesty, I will take a bit of food and be on my way.”

“No!” King Vulric cries, but it is not a refusal. It is desperation—a child begging for the treasure of its heart. “No, you must not go!" He rises from his throne. "Stay and play for me, and when you leave, I will give you anything you ask, even unto half my kingdom.”

For the next three days, I am King Vulric’s honored guest. When food and wine and luxury fail to satisfy, music helps him to forget the sins that weigh upon his soul. I play whenever the king desires, which means I sing nearly without ceasing. Each song pleases him more than the last, until I begin to believe he would gladly give his entire kingdom for the gift of one more song.

At last, I take my chance. As the king reclines in his chambers, I sing a song of the open road, of a voice that calls the traveler to find the true desire of his heart. The king gazes out his crystalline windows, as if he would leave behind this palace to follow the road I sing of.

“Your majesty,” I say, when I finish the song. “I have been happy to serve you, but the road is calling to my wanderer’s soul.”

The king begins to protest, but I stand firm, and he—helped by the song—seems to understand.

I say, “You vowed that, when I left, you would give me my heart’s desire.”

“I did," he says, "and I will keep my word."

“I want a companion as I travel through these lands. Let me have one of your prisoners. Someone who speaks my native tongue."

King Vulric says, “It shall be done.”

*

Where is my husband? I have circled these dungeons three times, but I do not see Alexander. In this dark, damp hell, every man is a near-identical portrait of misery. How will I find my husband while maintaining my own disguise?

At last, I decide to stop at every cell and ask a question in my native tongue. Most of the men stare blankly, or reply in unfamiliar languages.

At last, in the dampest, darkest corner of the dungeon, I stop at a door and ask, “Are there any here who speak the Northern tongue?”

Two men turn and look at me, their eyes bright, but wary. In a mound of straw, a pile of rags stirs. A head rises, showing shaggy dark hair. Torchlight flashes in a pair of deep blue eyes.

“You have word from the North?” he asks, his voice weak and husky.

I gasp. My stomach drops. I barely recognize my husband. His strong limbs have wasted away until they are no thicker than my arm. His face is sunken—almost skeletal. His face and limbs are wounded and scarred so I can barely see any unblemished skin. How has King Vulric reduced my husband, the warrior king, to this?

I want to weep, to collapse, to gather Alexander in my arms, but in this moment, I am supposed to be a man who has no home or family. I let my face show only the concern that any good-hearted human would show for a suffering stranger.

In Alexander’s tenor, I say, “I desire a companion who speaks the language of my people. King Vulric tells me I may take any prisoner I choose. You speak like an intelligent man.”

Alexander raises himself up on his arms. “I am no common prisoner.”

I nod quickly and tell the guard, “I will take this one.”

As the guard moves to open the door of the cell, Alexander says, “Wait!”

The guard stops. Alexander meets my eye. “You travel to the North?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

He gestures to the other men in the cell. “Take us all. These men are all my s—” I don’t know if he tries to say “subjects” or “soldiers”, but he amends, “They are my countrymen. I will not leave without them.”

This is not part of my plan. I came only for Alexander. I do not have food, clothing, money to care for them all. If we travel with strangers, I will not dare to reveal my true identity. I will not disgrace the crown by letting these men know their queen has dressed like a man.

“I only came for one. I don’t know if the king—”

Some passionate emotion sparks in Alexander’s eye—beneath his wasted form, my husband’s soul is still alive. “Ask. Either you take us all, or I will not go.”

My plan is falling to pieces, but I know that Alexander is right. I can not leave these men behind.

I send word to the king that the slave I want will only come with two other men; to get my heart’s desire, I will need to take all three. An hour later, I get my answer—my request is granted.

*

At daybreak, I lead my husband and his fellows out of prison. Alexander can barely walk, but he rebuffs me when I offer him my shoulder to lean upon.

Even in daylight, he does not recognize me. He has not seen me in three years. I have cut my hair so short its color can barely be seen. I dress and walk and speak like a man. He has no reason to expect that I would come to him in such a guise. Yet to have my husband so close to me, and looking at me with a stranger’s eyes, pierces me to the heart.

I dare not reveal the truth to him. In these lands, women never travel far from home, and no merchant will bargain with one. I must remain a man if I am to keep our group safe and fed. Alexander is never far from the other prisoners, and I will not risk my secret being overheard. Alexander will not be able to protect me should any of his fellow soldiers prove untrustworthy.

The other soldiers are stronger than Alexander. Sometimes I wonder if they will run away in the night. Yet I have food, I am taking them closer to home, and there is safety in numbers. More than that, they are loyal to Alexander. They care for him as they would a beloved father—helping him to walk, allowing him to rest, helping him to eat and bathe. I understand why Alexander wished them to bring them out of of that dungeon.

Eventually, we join a larger caravan traveling toward the frontier of our kingdom, and it becomes even more important to guard my secret. Alexander grows stronger, but he still refuses to look at me; I never see a spark of recognition in his eyes.

Alexander

Where is my wife? I received no reply to my letter. Though time enough had passed for an emissary to reach King Vulric’s palace, I saw no sign of her. I hoped perhaps we would pass her on the road, but I have seen no royal caravans.

Has she forgotten me?

I fight against the suspicion, but it seems more sensible as time goes on. There are many women who would prefer to rule a kingdom rather than ransom a husband they have not seen for three years. I do not believe Tatyana is one of them.

Yet...she did not come.

Because of her delay, I have been sold as a common slave.

My new master puzzles me. For a man who claims he wanted companions to talk to, Karol speaks very little. He has the red hair common in my kingdom, eyes nearly as blue as my wife’s. He is built like a minstrel, not a warrior. In full health, I could have overpowered him with one arm and escaped to freedom. In my wasted state, I can only meekly follow and wait for my next meal.

Yet Karol seems to be a kind youth. He is generous with meals, respectful with words. He is mindful of our weakness, walking slowly and giving us ample rest. He tends our wound with his own hands.

At night, sometimes, he sings for us. His voice makes me forget there ever was such a thing as war. He sings of peace, of safety, of home. Sometimes, as I drift on the edge of sleep, I can almost believe I am safe at home with Tatyana, that all my suffering has been only a dream.

Karol travels always closer to the border of my kingdom, traveling on whichever road and with whichever caravan will take us there more quickly. Sometimes, I dare to hope that his purchase of us was only an excuse to get us out of King Vulric’s clutches, and that once we return to my kingdom, he will set us free.

Yet day after day, week after week, he makes no mention of it.

One late summer night, we cross the border into my domain. I remember this road from when we first traveled to war. It looks different now—empty, isolated, quiet. Not a road to glory, but a road to a wife who ignored me in my imprisonment.

As much as it pains me, I can no longer deny the truth. We traveled for weeks through the countryside between my palace and King Vulric’s, and we've heard not a word of my wife. We have spoken to hundreds of travelers; no one knows anything about a foreign queen come to redeem her husband. If Tatyana had come, if she had sent an emissary, someone would know. Such news does not stay secret in this land.

I can not stay near my companions when I am suffering such pain. I wander away from the fire and find myself, for the first time, alone with my master.

Karol stands on a hilltop, looking over a vast plain. He is as mysterious and silent as always. Who is this lonely, wandering youth who buys slaves with a song?

I do not ask for his story. I have not told him mine.

Perhaps I should. Though I’ve no true home to go to, we are standing in my realm.

“Minstrel,” I say, “I am king of this land. Set me and my soldiers free, and I will see that you are well-rewarded.”

I do not think that Karol truly wants slaves. A minstrel has no work for us to do.

The full moon rises, huge, above him. He does not speak.

For a moment, I wonder if I have misjudged him. Perhaps he only seemed kind compared to my previous master. Perhaps he intends to sell us.

Karol turns, and his face softens. “Do not speak of reward. Go with God.”

With those simple words, I am free. No chain, no law, no obligation binds me to any man. My name and life have been restored to me.

I owe it all to this wandering stranger.

Suddenly, I find myself unable to abandon him on this hillside. I take his hand in mine—surprisingly slender, smooth save for the calluses of his craft. “Come with me,” I say. “You have been good to me. I will have you as a guest and see that you are honored as you deserve.”

A new light dances in his eyes. A smile tugs one corner of his mouth. Perhaps he does not believe me.

“I must take my own road,” Karol says. “When the time comes, I will be at your palace.”

He bows, takes his pack, slings his lute across his back, and disappears into the night.

I wonder when I will see him again.

Tatyana

I travel quickly. I take short routes, sleep little, move with great speed. Alexander is much stronger than he was. He will be safe with his fellow soldiers. I must return before him and make sure his palace is ready to welcome him home.

I could not tell him the truth in that final moment. We traveled together so long as strangers that it seemed cruel to reveal he had been mistaken all this time. Better to let him see me first as the wife he has longed for.

After only three days, I begin to recognize the countryside. Joy bubbles in my heart as I see the river, the city, the palace. Before I approach the gate, I buy myself a gown from a dressmaker, cover my shorn hair with a veil. I do not look like a queen, but I look like a woman. For the first time in months, I move and speak as myself.

I am welcomed back with joy and with confusion. I am asked where I have been, what I have done. I only say, “The king is coming. We must be ready.”

I check with my ministers and learn the kingdom is running well. I order the palace cleaned, fine foods prepared. When the guards inform us the king has been seen at the city gates, I run to my room and dress myself in my finest gown. I dress my hair with diamonds, wear gold necklaces, earrings, rings. I want Alexander to see me first as a queen and his bride.

Though I saw him only days ago, it feels as though I have been waiting years. I have traveled with a stranger who did not know me. Only when Alexander comes through the palace gates will I be reunited with my husband.

I wonder when I will see him again.

Alexander

I travel quickly. My men and I have regained much of our health, and we are in familiar country. I must hurry home. I have been away for nearly four years. Even if my queen has not been waiting for me, my country has.

The people rejoice as I enter the city. I accept their praise, but do not linger. I hurry toward the palace, a new thought giving me hope. Perhaps Tatyana is not there. Perhaps she is still on the road, still searching for me.

When I step inside my gates, a woman runs down the steps of the palace. She wears a gleaming green gown, an elaborate beaded headdress. She is laden with gold and jewels.

Tatyana.

She never stirred from the palace. She lived in luxury while I rotted in a foreign prison.

Tatyana throws her arms around my neck and weeps for joy. The lie disgusts me.

Coldly, I lift her arms off of my shoulders. I hold her away from me and look her in the face. Her expression is a frozen mask—sorrow, heartbreak, fear.

She was always an excellent actress.

I turn her around so she faces the assembled crowd. “Behold a faithless wife!” I cry. “She throws her arms around me now, but when I wrote a letter begging for her help, she did not lift a finger!”

I release her, and she falls to the ground. I stride toward the palace, fury giving me strength to stand as tall as I ever did.

“Alexander!” she cries.

I do not look at her.

Tatyana

My husband does not look at me. I rush after him, calling his name, but he never turns his head. He disappears into his chambers and closes the door in my face—further from me now than he ever was in a foreign prison.

After so many months of deception, I was overjoyed to face him as myself. All the tears—all the sorrow, terror, fear and joy—of the past years poured out in a tidal wave of honest emotion. I was so glad to—at long last—have his shoulder to cry on.

I had built up this moment into a beautiful story, the glorious end of all our troubles. Now I know it is a fantasy—my castle in the air has fallen and shattered into nothing.

Because Alexander has built his own story. He is a man of action, honest and forthright in all his dealings. He expected to be openly redeemed, to be brought into his kingdom in glory. He does not understand trickery. His expectations have blinded him to reality—even when he stared me in the face, he did not see the truth.

I have a share in the blame. I told myself I kept my secret for my safety, for the sake of the crown, but there is part of me that only wanted to save my pride. I feared the shame I would face if it was known that I'd spent these months dressed as a man. I had hoped to delay the moment when Alexander knew of what I had done.

I have delayed far too long.

I rush to my own chambers. I throw off my gown, my jewels, my veil. I put on my traveling cloak and once more pick up my lute.

It is time to put an end to all deception.

Alexander

I never knew that any man could suffer such sorrow. After war, captivity, slavery, starvation, illness and near-death, I had hoped that homecoming would be the joyful end of all my trials. Instead, I have learned that betrayal—the lost love of a beloved wife—is the worst suffering a man can endure.

I had imagined her waiting for me. Weeping for me. Selling all we had to bring me home. Instead, I found her in silks and jewels, as comfortable as if she has never left the palace, as if I had never been away. There is no sign that she spent a single coin for my sake.

I could have come home as a king, dressed in royal robes with a queen at my side. Instead, I returned alone, on foot, no better than a common beggar. The shame of it overwhelmed me the moment I saw my wife in royal finery. She did not even mourn for me. All these months, I drew strength from the thought of the love waiting for me. It crushes me to know how wholly I was deceived.

I bathe and wash away the grime of travel. I shave my face, cut my hair, dress in royal robes. Then, for the first time in nearly four years, I see my reflection in a mirror. The man looking back at me is a stranger. No longer the warrior king and beloved husband, he is weak, wasted, heartbroken.

In my council room, I gather my ministers. I learn that they, at least, have been faithful. The kingdom has been well-stewarded in my absence.

I wish I could bring myself to care.

“Sire,” my steward says. “The servants say you have not spoken to your wife.”

I scowl. “I will not see that woman.”

“But sire, you judge too harshly—”

I laugh in cynical disbelief. “I am too harsh? How ought I judge a woman who left me to rot in a foreign prison?”

My steward says, “The day she received your letter, she left the palace. She only returned yesterday. No one knows where she went.”

My anger erupts. “She did not come in search of me! I was freed by a minstrel! A stranger showed me more compassion than my own wife! He I will remember with gratitude all my days, but my wife, I will not speak of.”

My ministers murmur, troubled by my outburst.

I storm out of the council chamber. I have no heart for politics today.

In the hall, I hear music. The sound of a lute, playing a very familiar tune. Suddenly, I am not standing in my palace, mourning a faithless wife. I am sitting by a campfire in foreign lands, safe among friends.

Despite everything, I smile. The minstrel kept his word.

Karol emerges from around the corner, looking just as he did on the road. His cloak is brightly-colored and travel-worn. His lute is now tucked under his arm. Under his breath, he hums the song he often sang as we traveled on sunny days.

I take his hand heartily. "Karol! You came!"

He gives a characteristically enigmatic smile. "I told you I would come to your palace at the proper time."

Here, at least, is one who I can honor. I take his hand and lead him into the council chambers.

“This,” I tell my ministers, “is truly a faithful friend. He released me and my men from prison and helped us all get safely home.”

While my minsters make polite greeting, I turn to Karol.

“My friend,” I say. “I said that I would reward you, and I will keep my word. Ask me for anything, even unto half my kingdom, and I will grant it to you.”

Karol bows his head. “Your majesty,” he says, “I want only the reward that I asked of King Vulric.”

I frown. “I keep no slaves,” I say.

Karol shakes his head and smiles. He places his lute on the floor, unlatches his cloak, and lets it fall to the floor.

I witness a transformation. The minstrel’s stance, face, voice, all shift. His aloof eyes light up with emotion. The stiff lines of his face soften into curves. The cloak reveals a woman’s gown, and the voice, when he speaks, is the well-remembered voice of my wife.

“I want only you,” Tatyana says.

Her words are like light breaking through clouds. The sorrow, terror, heartbreak of the last years fades away, thrown off like her minstrel’s cloak. All the time I thought myself abandoned, Tatyana was at my side. Not a faithless wife—the most faithful wife who ever lived.

Never, never, never have I been so glad to find that I have been a fool.

I laugh as I have not laughed in years. The sound of it rings through the chambers like a song. I throw my arms around my wife and press her to my heart.

“You shall have me,” I say, sealing the promise with a kiss. “For as long as we both shall live.”

Tatyana

I never knew that any woman could know so much joy. Alexander is radiant, singing my praises to all the world. For seven days we feast, celebrating his return and my heroism in saving him. Alexander begs my forgiveness over and over—for how he shamed me, for how he rushed to judgment, for ever doubting my faithfulness. I take joy in forgiving him, and, when we are alone in my chambers, I ask him to pardon me for keeping him ignorant of my true identity.

“You did what you must,” he says. “Do not apologize for being wiser than I am. I would have had you sell our kingdom to redeem me, and instead you bought me for a song.”

I laugh, then kiss him tenderly. “You are worth much more than that.”

He caresses my faces, strokes my shorn hair. The kiss he gives me tells me I am the greatest treasure he could have. I return the kiss to say the same about him.

Our love is priceless.

Never again will I let him doubt it.

[pedripics]

Those who were once like Pedri do see something different: "He can play like Xavi, like Iniesta… and win the Ballon d'Or"

(via Relevo - February 14, 2025)

The Barcelona midfielder, analysed by great midfielders who see him with a magnificent present and future.

"He's a hybrid. He has things from Xavi, because he can play in the middle, also on the left wing, like Iniesta … Imagine what he'll be like with experience!" The phrase is from Luis Milla, who, like Pedri, arrived at FC Barcelona at 17, a club that he thanks for betting on "intelligence instead of physique", which gives opportunities to players who, at formative ages, have a harder time. "I don't know how far he'll go, but if he continues like this he'll eventually be a candidate for the Ballon d'Or," adds Julen Guerrero, that maned lion who dazzled a generation in the 90s with his goals for Athletic. "Individually, he has nothing to envy Iniesta," says Boniek, a fine Polish attacking midfielder, European champion for Juventus in the 80s. "He's very similar to Iniesta or Modric, he's a box to box," adds Maniche, the guardian of the Porto midfield of Mourinho, who won the Champions League. All of them, along with Trashorras, Valerón and Aleix García, speak to Relevo with knowledge of the subject of the total midfielder, the treasure that Barça and Spanish football have after Hansi Flick has found the right position and training for all his virtues to flourish.

To understand Pedri's full magnitude, it is necessary to travel back to his origins, to that small winger from Las Palmas, still a beardless player who was a dribbler who imagined things that only appeared in his head. There some of his abilities were born. "The first time I saw him was in a Las Palmas-Tenerife match. My son was at Tenerife. I had heard that there was a very good Canarian boy. As soon as you saw what he was doing, you could already predict a career at a high level," explains Milla, who remembers that "that day I spoke with José Mari Bakero, who was on the pitch, and we agreed." That formation as a winger, as a dribbler from the street school, gave Pedri some lessons that he can now exploit, even if he plays far from the goal. "What he learned makes it very easy for him to receive the ball and get out of uncomfortable situations when they mark you. If we look closely, Pedri always finds space and knows where to go. And he also has good dribbling skills," says Julen Guerrero.

"If you look closely, he always finds space and knows where to go." - Julen Guerrero (Former Athletic midfielder)

There is a common move that Pedri masters like few others and that brings him closer to Iniesta when it comes to receiving the ball under pressure. The Canary Islander, as if he were glued to the wing with a full-back on top of him as in his early days, is capable of intuiting what the defender will do, and of also deceiving with his waist, which is why one of his advantages is the "controls he does," Guerrero adds. "He has incredible ball control," adds Maniche.

"What surprises me the most is his ball control. He's always well-rounded. His first touch is always good. He can beat his opponent with control… because Pedri isn't a very fast player, nor does he do many tricks with the ball, or bicycle kicks, but simply with good control and profile he already beats you. He reminds me a lot of Iniesta. I don't like to compare, but when I see him, I see Iniesta reflected in him," adds Aleix García, a Spanish international and now at Bayer Leverkusen, who concludes: "We've all played in many positions in lower categories and in the end we've ended up where we did. But it may be that it helped him. Everything happens for a reason, but I think Pedri has something innate and has that quality within him that allows him to play in any position on the pitch."

The turning point with Flick: “You feel more comfortable playing at the back”

There is a before and after for Pedri after the 2021 Tokyo Games. The year in which he played 71 games, 53 of them as a starter, without having yet acquired the body of an elite athlete. From then on, the player did not abandon injuries. Coincidence or causality. The following season, he only participated in 26 games and the next two 41 and 40: this time, he has already accumulated 41 in the month of February, 36 of them as a starter. It is precisely after three years of light and dark, that Pedri once again experiences another turning point with the arrival of Hansi Flick for two reasons. The first, tactical, by moving back his position; the second, physical, by recovering an excellent state of form.

"I think that the situation of having him back closer to the pivot makes him come into play more, maybe he doesn't have as much attacking power to score goals, but he frees himself up a bit more and participates in the build-up. He is capable of arriving and providing assists, but I think that the situation of being closer to the ball's exit helps him more because he is more in touch with the game and can play more facing forward," reflects Roberto Trashorras, midfielder for FC Barcelona and Rayo Vallecano, mainly. Guerrero has the same opinion: "He feels comfortable coming off the ball, in areas where play is created. He finds space and overcomes lines," he comments, and adds: "There is less space up front, and you receive almost everything with your back to the ball. It is better for him to play in positions closer to the ball's exit, he feels at ease."

For Aleix García, Flick's change of position has served to show an unknown version of the footballer: "He is an incredible talent and this double pivot has given him something different and he is proving to be one of the best eight in the world." Another Canarian like him, Juan Carlos Valerón, also capable of giving that final pass and helping the play flow from behind, also agrees. "He is one of the best midfielders in the world. Right now he is in a form and at a level that, those who knew him, knew he could get to. I was with him when he signed for the youth team of UD Las Palmas, I spoke with him and I knew his abilities. In Barcelona, as is normal, he has needed time to be able to adapt to everything and have continuity and tranquility. He has already shown that he has football inside him, in his veins. Honestly, I am really enjoying him, his way of playing, everything he offers the spectator. It is a spectacle. The ceiling of this boy…"

Off-ball play is pure intelligence: “He wins duels without colliding”

Unlike players like Milla or Guardiola, Pedri is seen as a player with much more range but equally effective when it comes to channelling the game. "He is a player who, without being physically strong, is top technically, tactically very good and runs a lot of kilometres. He cannot contest the ball due to his condition, but he is intelligent, he has a good profile, and his characteristics are of the highest level. He proves those of us right who believe that in midfield the key is to be intelligent and have a special talent," muses Milla.

"He doesn't fight for the ball, but he is intelligent and proves right those of us who believe that the midfield is for talent" - Luis Milla (Former Real Madrid and FC Barcelona player)

Contrary to what it may seem, Pedri is a great defender. And as happens with players like Busquets, it is not because of his physique. The Barça midfielder could be seen in Ronald Koeman 's team , when Barça was disorganized and had to cover long distances, while in the National Team with Luis Enrique the game model accompanied him. He resolved situations because he knew what was going to happen a few tenths of a second before. The muscle was in his head. Something similar happens with Pedri. "People have an idea that Pedri is just about the ball, and it is true that he always chooses well and does not lose it, but on a defensive level he also manages to create technically advantageous situations: he retreats quickly, profiles, knows how to tackle and makes up for physical limitations with intelligence. He does not crash but wins duels in advance. He is very complete," adds Milla.

For this reason, Pedri must be in a dominant team, which plays together and far from the goal, to avoid situations close to the area, crosses or crowding of players and second plays. "He is one of the best in his position. He is intelligent in everything, good technically and tactically, he gives 100% balance to Barcelona," adds Boniek and Maniche agrees: "He recovers the ball very well and knows how to apply strong pressure when necessary. I like players with character and personality. He is very good with the ball and without the ball, he is very intelligent."

Between the lack of goals and injuries: “He needs to score to be perfect”

There is no such thing as a perfect player, although Pedri comes close. And there is always a but in all reflections. In the case of the Canary Islander, it is the goal, also minimized because now he is far from the goal. "What he perhaps lacks to take a step further is to score more goals. He can do it because he has second-line arrivals, but perhaps that is the issue he lacks because in ball recovery and duels, he has improved a lot and now he is one of the midfielders in the best form in Europe," explains Trashorras, something that unites him with Maniche: "He still has to score goals. He has arrivals, but he lacks goals to be perfect."

Pedri has scored four goals this season and in the 2022-23 campaign he has scored seven in the same number of games. These are not great numbers, and they have been reduced by the delay in his position, but it is true that the footballer steps into the area and appears in the second line, although that role of second striker is assumed more by Fermín López or Dani Olmo. With that characteristic and if he is left alone by injuries, Pedri becomes a clear candidate to win the Ballon d'Or in the future. "Yes, I see it. He is at an age with room for improvement, in a club that will relaunch him. He plays for the National Team, he will gain experience, stripes, background and he has it. Imagine with experience. The key is that he has injuries under control," reflects Milla.

For Julen Guerrero, it is not far-fetched either: "You never know where he will end up, but I see him as a candidate to be named best midfielder or aspiring to the Ballon d'Or, given his career, if he is spared from injuries, which is what has penalised him in recent years. If he maintains that level and is occasionally added to the goal, he will take another step forward." "It is a good question. It will depend on the titles, but he is in the right team," adds Boniek. "Well, my favourite historical player is David Silva for his quality, for the scope and for the magnitude of everything he achieved. Will he surpass Pedri Silva? It is difficult to know, but I am convinced that he will continue to be there giving this level," concludes Valerón, whom Pedri admired in those early days when he drew the player he is now, the most in-form midfielder in Europe and a future candidate for the Ballon d'Or.

[hopeswriting]

#khr #he was doomed then he doomed himself augh augh #honestly i see ppl criticising tyl tsuna for this bc of all the sneaking and everything but rly how far against the wall did he have to #be pushed to do this #to destroy the rings to doom himself present and past to being tied to vongola so tightly to do it not only to himself #but all the others too #like does tsuna our tsuna ever look at them or look in the mirror and wonder if in 10 years hell have that mindset #does he ever think and realize he understands and how much does it terrify him #will i turn into him am i him already #all that and hes still in middle school #existential crisis rescheduled sorry we have a math test this week and were behind bc our teacher was a fraud #but thats also a story for another day we have waterboarding 101 with reborn this weekend

via @slonechnik

oh yes this, absolutely. this is absolutely NOT a critic of tyl tsuna, i'm always gonna be a tyl tsuna protector and defender. i love that his hands were forced to make such fucked up choices, and then he chose himself to deal with their consequences. <3 like he didn't know he'd be the one who'd resent him the most for it. <3 and all along he did it for them as an act of kindness and love and hope and faith against hopeless odds. <3

more seriously tho haha. i agree that tyl tsuna bringing their present selves to the future was obviously the last thing he wanted to do. he quite literally tried everything else before that, including destroying the rings like you said, to hopefully stop the oncoming war before it got any worse. and i said above present tsuna is the one who resents him the most for that, but if not him, then it's tyl tsuna himself for sure. he eventually gave in to make that choice because it was the only one left to make, but without doubt he made it with a heavy heart and a heavy conscience.

i also LOVE the idea of tyl tsuna being tsuna's line drawn in the sand. if you get what i mean?? like, throughout the entire arc tsuna's all "how could he do this??". he so obviously sees tyl tsuna as stranger to him, he can't understand or relate to him at all, but tyl tsuna is still himself. was once the same boy he is now too. so who's to say he won't grow up to become like him too?

#will i turn into him am i him already < and then he's talking about HIMSELF!!!!!!!! i don't think you can just say that btw, but thank you for saying it so i can now lose my mind over it

[ID copied from alt text: A gifset about Sawada Tsunayoshi, from the anime Katekyo Hitman Reborn. A picture of a quote precedes and follows each gif.

Gif 1: Tsuna lies inside the coffin of his Ten Years Later self, pushing the lid open to the side. The quote framing the gif says, "Brief pause.", first in white against a black background, and then in black, bolded text against a white background.

Gif 2: Tsuna is on his knees, facing us, his head off frame. Underneath him, the Vongola's emblem shines brightly. The quote framing the gif says, "I'm walking backward", first in white against a black background, and then in black, bolded text against a white background.

Gif 3: Tsuna and Vongola Primo face each other, both in Hyper Dying Will mode. They hold one hand in front of them, the back of their X-Gloves and I-Gloves respectively, facing each other. The Vongola's emblem shines brightly in between their hands. The quote framing the gif says, "into my own myth.", first in white against a black background, and then in black, bolded text against a white background.

Gif 4: Tsuna and the rest of the guardians run on the crosswalk, their backs to us, while the girls, Bianchi, Fuuta and Giannini are across the crosswalk, running too to meet them halfway. The quote framing the gif says, "I was trying to walk out.", first in white against a black background, and then in black, bolded text against a white background. /End ID]

— H of H Playbook by Anne Carson. (Insp.)

future arc, get behind me. they just don't get you like i do 😌

[mildcicada]

[wiltkingart]

so i may be a little bit stupid. as in this isnt the first time i saw your trans leon art of course. it's probably the second or third time. but when you posted your commission art post and reposted the leon pic w it it made me realise that. leon's body looks like me. and usually even no-op art has features that i don't have like pronounced body and facial hair but like... this pic made me realise that i don't have a girl's body i have a body. with tits on top like. i guess like cherry on the cake? like just a feature on top. idk it's a change of perspective that i really like and makes me feel so much better and i would have never come to that conclusion if it wasnt for your art. so thank you

that's not stupid. it's not really a popular perspective. things are getting a little better now i think, at least in trans spaces, about celebrating and loving our non-op non-conventional bodies. but when i was growing up trans (not even that long ago! im 26 in a few days!) there was nothing like this that i ever saw. and my body was a source of just. daily despair. for a long ass time. i'm not saying i don't still have bad days but it wasn't until i started exploring trans bodies in my art that were different from the post-op 'ideal ("acceptable") stealth trans guy' image that i could i start to envision a different future for myself, a possible future, one that's more inline with my present. more in line with me and what my body looks like. this is how i learned to make peace with my body. love it even. tits and all! this took years of work but i am so much more happy and content these days than i ever thought i could be in this body. all thanks to art. and daring to have that first thought of 'what if'.

so yeah. there's kind of a lot of weight behind what i do here and i'm honestly astonished that i have gotten very little backlash for it over the years. sometimes i'm met with confusion, but for the most part its all very positive and enthusiastic, because there are a lot of people out there who have bodies like you and me and i'm so happy i can offer strangers like you a piece of the peace i've made for myself. take care <3

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[thatonecrookedsmile]

More progress being made. I finished re-reading The Illusion of Living this past Friday. It's a nice book. 👍 This was the last of the Bendy books in this "marathon" that I'm doing which I had already read previously and now I'm rereading, meaning that I'm kind of up to date when it comes to rereading all the books that were released until December 2021. But the race is not over yet. Soon I'll start Fade To Black, and (technically) I'll finally be up to date.

Just to continue my chain of posting about the books I finished (at least, the main ones that I really wanted to read) here it is…something I did at the beginning of March, on the night when shit went down. (I hope you know what I'm talking about). I saw the tweets first hand, I was there! Right at the damn moment. And it was..something reading those tweets alright. If the image above doesn't show it, my mood that night and the next 1-2 days wasn't so… great. You might read this and think I'm exaggerating, but that night especially I, uuhhh, I didn't feel good! And this image (and maybe 2 more posts I made that night) are the results of that. (And to think that a week before this happened, I had finished rereading DCTL after a long time. Talk about better/worse timing than this)

At least, if you want the bright side of this, it's that even after that day, I decided to continue with my book marathon, and I don't regret it. I was down that day, but I wasn't out yet damn it!! and I'm still not. (I don't know if this sentence makes a lot of sense, but you get my point)

As a bonus, here's something I did the night I got to the part where Henry is first mentioned in the book (you can consider this as a representation of my reaction when he's first mentioned, both for when I read TIOL for the first time in 2021, as now in this rereading)

Feat. canon Henry design and my fanon design for him (I wanted to include him here + I still read this book with my fan-designs in mind)

[narwhalandchill]

ANYWAY now that ive gotten my firefly rant off my chest and on a more positive note about the story overall; i Really liked it!!!! and character-wise specifically the biggest surprise for me in a huge W way was actually acheron??

& given i was actually somewhat committed to pulling her anyway (well. initially as kafka replacement to pull my first lightning carry after losing 50-50 but. Well. she had mercy on me at the v last moment thank goodness 😭😭) so actually ending up liking her character this much just cemented that resolve for good too. cant wait for her!!! like i am still meh on her base design not bc its that bad by itself but simply bc seeles existence just cheapens it so much like. Why are they so similar. but its not bad lmao

anyway to her actual characterization. first of all. the VAs delivery omg yall beidous english voice is already one of my all time favorites in genshin and shes doing an amazing job as acheron like. she started talking and im just INSTANTLY warmed up to her just from that KDJSKDKJK i love love love her attitude and energy!!!!!

n personality wise too??? like ive seen others mention a similar sentiment but its just the way how. even after getting the warnings from now Two separate characters that shes up to no good. im just like. "nah id win" abt it SHSKDKSI like throughout the story she comes off as so damn likeable and grounded and realistically friendly (as in not like. too open n aligned w the player from the get-go to feel believable for the character as opposed to a plot contrivance) that i just. even if shes bad news im team acheron truly.

she has genuinely funny one liners too ??? like not necessarily jokes outright but the kinda comments she says are just . very realistic in that dry witty way that comes off as natural and entertaining shes so charming!!! i love her. the more contemplative stuff she says too

but also like. girl whats up w the ominous red text ily but are we cool 😭😭 and the whole shredding us into thin slices on first encounter in the dreamscape like. Ok uhhhhhhhh ik i said nah id win and team acheron forever but this is kinda. worrisome

BUT that just means im so fucking excited to see her go apeshit too lmao like. oh shes an emanator here to do murder and spread death? COOL i hope she has fun!!

(and ik i said firefly rant over but. what the actual hell is that post firefly merk dialogue option where the games like very heavy handedly implying ur supposed to be blaming ACHERON for "letting it happen" in some emotional frenzy???? bro what 💀💀 0/5 moment i would never. n even if she plausibly did im just. dude her being cold towards firefly is just a plus for me when the narrative has just railroaded the TB into being sooo charmed by her magical presence lmao i Liked that acheron was suspicious n cold)

overall Definitely wasnt expecting acheron to establish herself as such an instant favorite for sure but. shes here now and im v happy abt it im super looking forward to seeing those more dubious goals of her come to the forefront in the future like. im so curious about whats up w her and her memory and that red text and everything

[elliesspam]

Vanilla and Lemons

I grew my hair out last year

I don’t regret it

December I met a nice guy at work

Tonight he let me wear his flannel home

I don’t know how to take cute pictures of myself

Maybe I’ll start practicing?

[fated-normal-767]

past me is a jerk and future me is a jerk and every day they work together to engineer catch 22 situations that force me to be unable to tell anyone the truth because they know I’ll regret it if I get too sad and spill everything.

[subaru-meteorlight]

💫.