#i'm only god when i need to argue with the feds. i'm not god to YOU!!!

[crimeronan]

Also hey what the FUCK did Devin's childhood look like

oop this got long by accident....

devin is an orphan who was raised in tachni's foster system!

said foster system & orphanages are all run through the light temples, which are the government. which tbh is.... not as bad as having your foster care privatized!

there are Major Issues with it that reflect the Major Issues with tachni's government in general, but those aren't Super relevant to devin's childhood.

what IS relevant to devin is that light magic makes earth magicians sick. so living in a light temple (typically built on a place where light magic pools) is..... not great.

it's not invariably fatal!! but physically it does kind of feel like. having radiation poisoning.

devin miserably skated by under the radar as a seemingly-normal kid with a touch of earth magic.... until the prior earth god, moira, killed herself. and her godpowers passed to devin.

devin promptly (and accidentally) ripped through a bunch of the light temple campus and got in Enormous trouble. and then was sent to live in the centerspire with nova, which is the Mooost concentrated place of light magic in the city. possibly on the whole planet!

she then became suicide attempts georg and had a bunch of autonomy and medical horrors happen. the main one still affecting her in the years-later canon is legal designation as an "invalid," aka a person who's been placed under legal guardianship and has literally no right to consent to anything, ever.

nova gets to be devin's keeper. [weakly] yaaay

that's about it for childhood + adolescence.

although it IS worth noting that her first priority when negotiating with nova for one (1) singular earth temple was, like. she was like okay. respectfully. i'm taking every orphaned earth magician i can find out of the city so they stop being In The Torture Pit. capiche....??

despite earth magicians being a significant minority of the magic users in tachni, this still meant snagging a couple hundred kids. all of varying ages. in the nineteenish-years-later canon, now all these kids are young adults who consider devin a folk hero.

this annoys the absolute Fuck out of devin. bc she's perfect.

[tokiiwonz]

best friend anton thoughts

tw: jealous anton, car sex, unprotected sex (don't), exhibitionism, allusions to manipulation, infidelity xD, eunseok was punched (i'm so sorry)

thinking about best friend!anton walking in on you touching yourself while moaning his name ♡ like damn, you just can't help yourself; you grew up together, laughed with each other, even cried with each other—you're not going to just let any other person have their way with your man, not by any chance and fortunately for you, anton thinks the same

best friend!anton who knows you have feelings for him and decided to get a girlfriend for himself just to mess with your head. he swears it's nothing romantic, and that he just wants to see you get jealous over someone else.

best friend!anton who gets mad jealous after finding out that you're in a relationship with someone in his friend group. he's known for being usually a chill laid-back type of guy but the moment the news broke out, he didn't hesitate to punch eunseok for taking what's supposed to be his.

best friend!anton who recklessly drags you to his car before roughly kissing you in the backseat. he never thought that his silly little plan would backfire at him, and to him, it's all your fault. you need to be put to your place for getting back at him.

he never hid his liking for your strawberry-flavored chapstick. one could argue that he has used more of your chapstick than you did, and he never imagined how good it would taste when he's tasting it on your lips.

best friend!anton who is a shameless manwhore. given everything that had happened, he takes his phone out before recording you both making out in his car. a documentation, at least according to him. he shows off how he makes your pretty lips bleed with the way he bites it; all swollen and needy for whatever he's about to give you, taking lots of pictures and clips of all the hickeys and bite marks he left before sending it to their group chat.

best friend!anton who has you bouncing on his lap, tearing up as you struggle to take his fat cock. god, he loves the way you cry for some dick. no ones supposed to make you cry like this but him, and as he was thinking that, he couldn't help himself but to clench his jaw and drag his cock deeper into your warmth.

you felt so full, on a high if you will, having his cock bulging your stomach with every thrust. it doesn't help you much that you could feel him drag every inch of his cock deeper and deeper. neither did having you wrapped so tightly around him helped anton—he feels so lightheaded with how tight and small you feel against him—he’s got you all stuffed up, soaked and quivering, riding him as he hits the softest spot inside you.

anton has always taken pride in his work, and your vulnerability under his control right now has only fed his already-big ego.

he's shameless on where he puts his kiss marks on; on your cheeks, neck, shoulders, anywhere he finds enticing, really. “i didn't say stop, did i? i said don't you fucking dare stop riding this fat cock. you're going to show & tell eunseok who fucks you this good.”

and before you could even give a proper response, a whimper escaped your lips as you felt anton’s harsh thrusts up into you repeatedly. he hit your prostate in many ways he could—your toes curled up as anton let everyone hear your moans.

“thaaat’s it, doll,” he groaned as he throws his head back in pleasure. “riding so good for me. go make a show, show how my pretty boy rides tonnie's cock.”

best friend!anton who likes to humiliate and make you feel small ♡. rumors has it that it's hard to deal with a mad anton due to how annoying he could be, but you think otherwise. you're very much willing to do everything to get his hands all over your body, even if it means to anger this mad man (which pretty much explains how poor eunseok was dragged into this mess)

"who told you to act like some kind of street whore, hm? i'm giving you just enough attention, aren't i? am i not enough for you to get a boyfriend? fuckass slut.”

best friend!anton who's temperamental. one moment he's splitting your hole open, the next he's making you his pillow prince (it counts, even if you're at the back of his car). he's just so obsessed with messing with your head even when he's fucking you—he wants you to be dependent on him, because you're his and his only ♡ kiss your forehead while his hands were wrapped around your neck? you got it. making you cry with his thick cock while cuddling you? you got it.

anton may seem like some kind of playboy, even a fuckboy, to other people, but he has never slept with anyone but you. his cum stained fleshlights and self clips were his testaments. he just loves you so much, ok? ♡

"got what you needed, doll face? a good dick down from me? yeah, that's it... anyway, wanna come over later?” he pecked your lips as he cummed inside you and smiled. “keep my cum inside you, alright? i’ll eat you out later when we get home.” you giggled as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before preparing to drive.

[viridwns]

Mannequin

TW: Forced relationship, non-consensual kissing/touching, Douma being aight?, mention of gore if you squint, also didn't check grammar or spelling :/

A/N: I am working on so many requests rn, I had to work on one of my own ideas (I saw a dress on pinterest and had to make a story out of it).

"You look like a goddess."

"So beautiful."

"She's ethereal."

"Only the best for Lord Douma."

"This shows too much skin!"

You look at yourself in the mirror, turning your body every whichway to assess the dress (or rather a piece of cloth) that has been put on you.

You felt naked.

Douma kidnapping you to his cult wasn't something new. Especially after he was sent out on a mission did he just long for alone time with you. His followers taking you, dressing you, doing your hair wasn't new to you either.

But being put in this?!

Yeah, this was something new.

They never put you in a dress so revealing.

It was a strapless dress, with sleeves flowing over your lower arm, attached with a silver chain to the main part. Your top was made out of the same silver. It barely covered your breasts. You hoped the thin closing around your neck wouldn't break. The silver was further attached to the bottom of your dress. A waistband sitting snug on your hips, a sheer cloth billowing from it, and stopping just above your ankles. Aside from your lower arms and from the waist down, you were without coverage. Your only shield that protected the outing of your breasts to the rest of the world was the flimsy silver chain wrapping around your upper half.

No way you were going to wear this in front of the demon who ripped apart countless of kimono's off you. He couldn't even see your figure in those. You don't want to find out what he'd do when you were practically bare.

You let your fingers trace the silver; these chains wouldn't even survive a slight tug from him.

"Our seamstress worked tirelessly on this. Researching the western culture without Lord Douma's knowledge was a difficult task. Plus the seamstress had to start over many times; the fabric is so flimsy it ripped multiple times!" A woman looked at you via the mirror with begging eyes. You felt a pang of guilt shoot through your gut at her words.

"It's not that I don't like it! it's the most beautiful piece of clothing I ever laid my eyes on. It's just that...It's so immodest!"

You turn your head away from the mirror, getting embarrassed from seeing your form in such a state in front of all these women.

Counter arguments started to bounce off the walls. You shook your head.

"I'm not going to prance around in nothing but see through fabric and chains!"

"You must! you're Lord Douma's spouse, send by God himself to keep him company-"

You waved your hands in an attempt to cut her off. You didn't need them to obsess over the made up story Douma fed them. You were not God send, and you were definitely not here to keep the demon company.

You wished you could tell them the truth, but that would only result in carnage; The pile of corpses Douma left for you to find serving as a efficient warning the first time he brought you here.

You were never going to tattle on his secret again.

The arguing continued, a hand already pressed on you shoulder so you would sit down.

"Just let me do your hair first okay? If you really don't like it we'll dress you in different clothing.

You reluctantly gave in. Knowing that their say was final anyway. You can't even remember the last time your opinion was taken into serious account.

It's always about pleasing the demons', never about what you would like.

You watched the skillfull hand of the woman behind you doing your hair in the dressing table mirror. She was braiding it into a crown around your head, letting the back stay the way it is. She intertwined some white roses into the braid; it looked like you were wearing a flower crown.

Even though you did find yourself pretty in these fancy clothes and hairstyles; you couldn't enjoy yourself. You were treated like a dress up doll for the demons', only being allowed to look pretty for them, never for yourself.

You had forgotten the giddy emotion you got when being gifted a new dress and twirling in it in front of the mirror for the first time.

Another sigh, another careless smile from one of the followers.

"You couldn't look more beautiful. Lord Douma will ravish in the sight of you." The women all agreed in unison, complimenting you on your beauty.

You turned around to face them, a small smile on your lips.

"I will make sure to praise your work in front of Douma." A wave of excited and thankful shrieks came over you.

Douma tended to let the women you like live longer so you can enjoy their company more when you're here. You had to mention them in front of him.

A male follower came rushing into the room. The women all forming a protective circle around you-you were only to be seen by Douma's eyes.

"It's almost sunset, come quick." He rambled, waving to everyone to come with him. Urgency laced his words.

It was time for Douma to give the message of the Lord to his people.

Prick.

You stood up, relief slowly eating away the nerves that had build up in your stomach.

Sunset also meant that Akaza could go outside and get you out of here.

One thing about Douma is that he never asked if he can take you with him, he just does.

And hell be upon him when the rest finds out you're missing, coincidentally at the same time Douma isn't present either.

Akaza is always the one to get you, even if he can't stand up against Douma, he somehow always gets Douma to give you over.

Maybe it's because of the threatening shadow of Kokushibo always leaning over Akaza from behind; piercing his three pair of eyes into Douma's soul (if he even had one, you were fairly certain he didn't).

You feel the corners of your lips tug upwards at the sight of Douma being beheaded.

Maybe if you puppy-dog-eye Muzan enough when you get back he'll take away Douma's mouth for a bit. You could use a bit of peace and quiet.

You didn't notice you were being lead to the main hall, so lost in your daydreams that you only noticed where you were when a heavy silence deafened your ears.

The hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at you, gaping at you, had you realize what you were wearing, or what you weren't wearing. Your arms slipped over your figure in an attempt to keep as much hidden as you could. Your futile attempt in creating a shield for yourself was met with two female followers grabbing both your hands and forcing them to your side, keeping you in place with their determination to show you to their Lord.

Your eyes were pinned forward, gaze focused on the tall figure slowly rising upright from his cushion.

Douma looked the same as he ever did. Same hair, same clothes, same cursed eyes and his trusty hat.

The only thing different was that his expression was...well not his usual 'grin'.

His eyes were wide, mouth closed. He was unreadable. You couldn't figure out what emotion he was wearing on his features.

You noticed his hands were in taut fists by his sides.

What was up with him?

"Douma?—"

That's when he stood up, rising to his full height. You swear you could feel the floor shake as he strode towards you.

You didn't—couldn't—move. Why was he so much more terrifying when not smiling?

The women let you go; getting on their knees as their Lord approached—heads touching the floor.

He didn't acknowledge any of them as he took your wrist in his hand. You saw his sharpened nails. bile climbed up your throat, you forced it down again as you swallowed.

Douma dragged you behind him, pace quick, eyes determined. You spluttered his name, trying to ask what was wrong. He was not himself, he never acted this way.

"Douma, what are you do-"

"Just shut up."

You were taken aback by his tone, shutting up immediately. He never had any emotion except for faux happiness in his voice. Now his tone was just empty, devoid of anything.

You could hear his heavy breathing as he took you outside. You spotted the white circle gifting the world with a guiding light in the darkness high up in the sky. It was a full-moon tonight.

Your eyes snapped to Douma as he stilled his movements. He shoved you in front of him, placing you in the holy glow of the moon. You faced him with confusion lining your features. You could not figure out what he was trying to do.

He took a few steps back; basking in the sight of you. He swallowed thickly. His eyes trailing slowly over you body, analyzing every dip, mole, crook, wrinkle, imperfection and perfection you had.

You looked like an angel in the heavenly glow of the nightlight. Douma couldn't stop inspecting you. When you walked into the hall, not wearing a kimono like always, he was put into a trance. He had never seen you wearing western clothing, and even though this was extreme and probably not accurate to the western style at all-he was captivated.

You had never looked more beautiful than you did at this moment. He wasn't used to emotions sizzling in his blood. He didn't know how to put the burning sensation in him out. For once he didn't want to throw you on a bed to eat you up to your very core, but he just wanted to take in you.

You played with the ends of your sleeves as you felt yourself getting smaller under Douma's multicolored gaze. You hated not knowing what to do, not being able to gauge the demon's feelings.

A snap of twigs made your head turn away from the stone-turning stare of Douma.

You sighed in relief.

"You bastard. You can't just take her with you! Not without Lord Muzan's permission! Love, you must've been te-."

Akaza stilled, his eyes met yours and slowly drifted over your body. You cocked your head.

Not him too.

"What are you wearing? What is she wearing?" He pointed an accusing finger to Douma,

"Doesn't matter, she is gorgeous."

You had to keep yourself upright form the whiplash Douma gave you with his words. He had never sounded to sincere, so soft.

Akaza walked over to you, his footfalls not heard. He was about to hold your hand when Douma spawned next to the two of you and gripped Akaza's hand in a bone-breaking grip. His muscles were bulging under his skin as he kept Akaza from touching you.

"Let her stay like this for a little." Douma never was serious with Akaza. Always letting the upper three do what he wanted. Akaza stopped all his actions. He knew Douma could kill him in seconds if he resisted him now.

"Douma I want to go. I don't feel comfortable." It was nerve-wrecking to break the tension. It was something you never dared to do, scared of loosing a limb if you did. The air was thick and if you had a knife you swore you could cut it.

Douma turned his focus towards you. Just like that you could breathe again, all tension leaving. It was like Douma realized that he had dropped his act.

You grimaced when his grin returned on his lips. You saw Akaza visibly relax when he did.

"Whatever you wish princess."

You looked at him with suspicion. He was never this easy to persuade. Usually he would whine for an hour before inevitably giving in.

Akaza shared a glance of doubt with you. He cautiously took your hand and within the blink of your eyes you were standing in the chaos of walls, lights, floors and stairs.

You felt light-headed, your stomach sloshing inside of you. This was never going to get easier.

You held Akaza's hand as you got your bearings, slowly pushing away the nausea and pressure that was building in your head. If it wasn't for him you would buckle and fall.

"You okay? I don't understand how you aren't used to this yet." Akaza rubbed your back. You shot him a glare and released your hand out of his.

"What is she wearing?" You pursed your lips in annoyance as Kokushibo appeared in your line of sight.

"I'm getting out of this dress right now, don't worry about it." You snapped, done with this whole night already. Why were they all acting like you never dressed up before?

You were wearing a dress for the first time though...maybe that's what had them reeling like this.

"No, I like it. You look beautiful." The upper one stared down at you, his hand resting at your shoulder, slowly gliding down to your lower back as he assessed you.

"We should get you more dresses, and have Daki braid your hair more often." He mused. A shiver ran up your spine as his cold fingers kissed your skin.

"I don't feel comfortable in this. I am practically naked." You objected, looking up at Kokushibo through your lashes.

"Only bonus points if you ask me." Douma winked, his eyes dark with lust as he cocked his head with a cheeky smile.

It was like whatever happened a few minutes ago never did. He was back to his old self. Much to your relief and dismay.

"Stop acting like an animal in heat you idiot." Akaza sneered, but the dust of pink on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Which one of you took her out of the kimono I picked for her?" There it was. A voice, cold as ice, heavy as stone and threatening like a knife against skin.

Muzan was standing across from you. His head high, hands behind his back and maroon eyes radiating annoyance.

Muzan was very controlling of what you wore, ate and just did overall.

Douma was in for a lot of shit.

"Ah Lord Muzan! isn't she pretty? My followers know exactly what to do with her!" Douma pushed you forward, showcasing you to the demon king.

You slightly pouted your lips. You hated being pranced around like an animal in a zoo. You just wanted to change into comfortable-covering-clothes.

Muzan took you in, walking around you as if he was deciding to buy a new piece of furnace. He was judging you.

"I've seen this style before. Did your followers research her western background?" Muzan asked as he let his hands wander over the material; tracing the silver that were hiding your breasts.

"They did, and they did such a magnificent job."

No they didn't. You never wore anything like this back home.

Home. You missed it.

"I wore dresses at home-" Muzan grabbed your jaw, you coughed.

"-back in my former country, they were nothing like this." You managed to get out with the aching grip of the demon king on your jugular.

You had to stop messing that up.

Muzan loosened his grip just a tat.

"You look nice in this. Maybe I should let you indulge in your own culture more."

Your eyes grew big.

"Are you serious?"

"Dare you question me?"

You shook your head no as best you could with his hands still lingering between oxygen and choking.

When was the last time you had enjoyed something from your culture?

When was the last time you spoke in your tongue?

Sadness tugged at your heartstrings when you made that realization, but you quickly cut the emotion off as you went down on your knees. Muzan letting your go to have you grovel at his feet.

You bowed down; head touching the floor the way he loved.

"Thank you, my lord." You felt the insides of your stomach climbing up your throat as you said it, but you forced it down. You had learned quickly enough to do what Muzan likes, and thank him for the smallest bit of gratitude.

Having you call him 'lord' was another one of his manipulation tactics. he wanted you to know the power dynamic between the two of you. He wanted you to know where you stood exactly.

Muzan hummed in satisfaction. You rose to your feet again with the help of Kokushibo, who so kindly stuck out his arm for you to take.

"No, stay on your knees." Muzan commanded. Your mouth fell open, but without any hesitation you bend down on your knees again. Your dress spread around you in a perfect circle.

Muzan tilted your chin up. He raveled in the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. You looked so fragile with those flowers in your hair and the white clothing your skin.

He felt his trousers tighten just at the thought of corrupting the innocent thing before him.

You felt the eyes of the three demons behind you burning holes in your body as Muzan traced his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Kiss me." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. you weren't feeling up to this right now, but the consequences of rejecting Muzan-rejecting the demon king-would be a grave mistake.

Muzan couldn't handle that a mere human could reject a near God like himself. It hurt is ego immensely.

You gently stood up, not breaking eye contact with him once, you let your breath fan over his lips, mentally preparing for what was about to come. Muzan grabbed your hips as he watched you.

Pushing back every urge to stop, you lunged forward, crashing your lips on the frozen ones of Muzan. Your warmth enveloped Muzan's nerves as he reciprocated the kiss. He was more fierce, more eager, and after a second he took back control. Forcing you to stay in place as he explored the cavity of your mouth. You felt your oxygen running out as Muzan bit and tugged on your bottom lip. He dominated you easily. Your hands were taut around Muzan's shoulders. Squeezing as the need for oxygen became to extreme.

The moment spots started forming in your vision, Muzan broke the connection. You heaved, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. You didn't stop looking at him, you knew he saw looking away as a form of 'not wanting' (even though that's what you did feel). You felt your lips swell and your face heat up. Your eyes were glossy and Muzan wore a small grin on his face.

He loved seeing you like this. Lips plump read, face hot and bothered and eyes doe-like.

"You are talented in putting on a show, darling." You furrowed your brows, Muzan guided your face in the direction of the other demons'.

You felt your muscles tense at the sight of all three looking at you like you were the first source of water they found after days of traveling in a dessert.

You felt fear fluttering in your stomach like moths pouncing on a flame.

You barely made it out alive when with one of them. You wouldn't be able to take all four.

"N-no, please, I-" Muzan raked his sharpened nails over the silver, it broke without any resistance, just like you predicted.

"Don't worry. They'll do as I say, and for now I want them to watch."

He kissed your shoulder as the shield slowly broke off your body.

You got what you wanted though, you got out of the dress.

[applestorms]

There's this One (1) idea I keep trying to capture about Sebastian and Ciel's dynamic and I'm not sure if I've managed to quite get at it properly in my previous takes so. Guess I'm gonna go for it one more time ahahhaha =3=" (SPOILER WARNING FOR THE USUAL SHIT)

It all goes back to This Fucking Page, which I've seen plaguing the minds of at least a couple of people around here more than a few times. The question is clear: how the hell can Ciel not trust Sebastian at this point? After years of putting his life directly into Sebastian's hands, not only pulled from danger but doted on constantly, fed, bathed, and protected at all times by him 24/7-- even after all that, he still claims to trust him the least. Is he lying? Fucking with him? Making a joke?

I'd argue: none of the above. Regardless of how their relationship may actually function on a base level, Ciel is telling the truth as he believes it here, and revealing a key part of what drives him in doing so.

To fully understand this moment, I think we have to take a step back for a second and really look at what Ciel's motivations are, and also the origin of his contract with Sebastian. Specifically, the points I'd like to focus on here are as follows: what was o!Ciel's emotional state of mind like in the weeks after their introduction to the cult, and what changed at the exact moment that he summoned the demon?

In the case of the first question, we get a pretty clear answer: o!Ciel believed.

Despite the insanely horrific child abuse these kids were forced through at the hands of the cult, o!Ciel still managed to find hope and peace in the form of his protective older brother. He believed, had faith-- in God, and also his brother (same difference?). It is made quite clear throughout not only these chapters but also the few flashbacks we get pre-129 and onward that r!Ciel was the primary thing getting o!Ciel through this period of time, the one constant he could rely on. Everything about their lives changed on that day-- their parents were dead, their house destroyed, their lives and futures and known universe entirely ripped apart as their entire existence was groomed to turn them into the ideal sacrificial lambs for someone else's gain. Through it all, they had nothing but each other.

To put this another way: o!Ciel trusted his brother.

It is clear from the way in which o!Ciel talks about himself, in the few instances that we get of his most bare-faced honest narration, that he does not think highly of himself. Frankly, the fact that he felt the need at all to impersonate his brother is proof of this. o!Ciel did not grow up respecting or trusting himself, always easily accepting the view that he was simply the Spare, the sickly extra that had to stay inside and watch while everyone else got to play outside. Ciel was the brave one, the one that proudly introduced himself to strangers, who was mentored directly by their father for a job o!Ciel would never have. Ciel was the strong one, the capable one, the one powerful enough to stand on his own feet and support his brother as well. Ciel was the one to check the house, to fulfill his duty and protect him.

For all their appearances as mirrors of one another, it is clear from the moment of their birth that the twins were not and never would be truly equal. The elder, Ciel, is the future Earl of Phantomhive-- the other is only there to pick up the pieces he may or may not leave behind.

It is a dynamic ingrained in these two deeply enough that it follows through even as the rest of their lives are torn away from them. r!Ciel protects and o!Ciel believes, trusts that his big brother will always know the right path. There is thus little need for o!Ciel to ever take action or make any major decisions when it comes to ensuring their future. r!Ciel swallows the ring-- all o!Ciel has to do is keep the secret. Maybe in their previous life he could've worried about toy stores or games or making a living for himself outside of the Phantomhive manor-- but right now, when the two of them are still very much stuck in Survival Mode, all he needs to do is trust.

And then.

The object of his trust is torn away from him. They are separated, wholly and utterly, forever-- for nothing that is lost can ever again be regained. And suddenly, there is nothing left to believe in.

Thus, we reach our second point: o!Ciel's mental state at the moment he summons the demon. Faith in God/Ciel is broken, all hope is lost, familial blood has been spilled on the sacrificial altar and o!Ciel is still locked in his damn cage. Trust has disappeared entirely-- all o!Ciel wants now is power, control over his life and the shit happening to him, the exact thing he has lacked all this time, really his entire life.

KEY POINT: o!Ciel does not want (another) hero. If there is one thing that this moment proves to him, it is that he cannot ever again put all of his faith into another person to save him. Rather, what o!Ciel wants is agency, the power to decide his own fate for himself.

Again, we can infer that this is a large part of why our twin even bothers to take the name "Ciel" in the first place-- because, at this point in the story, the only way he can even conceive of having that kind of power and independent autonomy is by literally becoming his brother, the object of courage and bravery and protection that he has been looking up to for all this time. And this is something that he doesn't only believe internally, in his own mind, but constantly sees getting affirmed to him externally as well-- because, if "everybody would be happier if Ciel was the one to return," if Ciel is the only one capable of handling the job of the watchdog and fulfilling the Phantomhive duty for the Queen, then the only way he can move forward is by becoming Ciel, and leeching his power that way.

This is the fundamental moment that establishes o!Ciel's relationship with trust and Other People more generally for the entire rest of the series as we get to see it. After having his faith broken in every conceivable way, watching every single member of his family be killed in front of him while he was completely unable to do anything, o!Ciel finally arrives at a decision-- to take the power that has finally been offered to him, regardless of the consequences, just for the chance to finally have some control over his own life and fate.

o!Ciel does not care about the fact that this contract will kill him, about the fact that he is entrusting his soul to a starving demon that will eventually eat him. o!Ciel is perfectly willing to step under his own personalized sword of Damocles, perfectly accepting of the fact that it will eventually lead to his own demise-- all he wants is the power to set it up himself, to decide exactly when it will inevitably fall.

Thus: trust. From this point forward, trusting anyone else is simply not an option. Because if Ciel couldn't protect him, if Ciel couldn't uphold his faith and grant him their hope, then who the fuck could? Frankly, o!Ciel is even kinda granting him a second chance by taking his name as he dedicates himself to his revenge...

...which gets to my biggest point. Trust in other people may no longer be an option. But: trust in himself?

Now we have a chance to keep moving forward.

This is what Sebastian and his whole demon contract schtick Truly grants o!Ciel-- power, agency, and the ability to have faith in his own abilities, to stand up on his own. o!Ciel does not want another hero to save him, he is not going to set himself up for failure like that, and certainly not with the guy whose first big move is to fucking lie directly to his face.

What o!Ciel trusts here is not Sebastian, not directly, but rather his own ability to manipulate Sebastian into doing what he pleases. And this is exactly what he wants!! Again, o!Ciel does not want Sebastian to play the hero for him, to replace that which has already demonstrably failed him. He wants Sebastian to give him the power that he wants, and, perhaps ironically, he grows into a more capable and competent person in order to work as efficiently as he can under the terms of their contract to get that.

Ciel says that Sebastian is the person he can trust the least, and DUH. o!Ciel is not stupid, of course he believes that. There's a reason why every one of the terms of their contract are specifically designed to bind Sebastian down, why his first wish was to ensure that Sebastian would never be able to lie to him like that again. Never forget: Sebastian is dangerous, a starving animal that o!Ciel has only barely got chained back, who in this very arc was fully prepared to eat him alive if his traumatized state of mind made him go back on their contract a little too much.

YET: the intense irony of all of this is that Sebastian's very untrustworthiness is exactly what makes him reliable. o!Ciel knows exactly what the fuck Sebastian wants (him), and how to use that weakness to his advantage. And, in turn, this gives Ciel exactly what he has wanted and needed all this time, the chance to grow and take charge and believe in himself, that he is capable, and meaningful, and that his life has value as more than just The Spare.

It is this exact axis, the contradictory truth that o!Ciel trusts Sebastian to be untrustworthy, that their entire relationship revolves around in my opinion. It is what allows the contract to be such a beneficial force in Ciel's life, what makes Ciel and Sebastian's dynamic so appealing and fascinating to me.

Sebastian isn't a person, he isn't a human that can grow and love and be relied upon in a more traditional romantic sense. He's a domesticated demon, not an enemies-to-lovers bad boy love interest-- his fangs can never be cut. YET. Even so, I see absolutely no reason why Ciel's recognition of this fact must detract from their relationship in any way, or the fun of shipping them together. Rather, it is this exact facet of their dynamic with one another that makes Ciel such an emotionally compelling protagonist to me, and sebaciel more generally such a lovely relationship to explore. ^__^

They're fucked up as hell!! But you don't have to disregard the knives they are constantly holding to one another's throat to also acknowledge the ways in which they are loving, and warm, and build each other up into something they never could've been on their own. Ciel doesn't trust Sebastian, but he never wanted to in the first place. Instead, Sebastian gives him the chance to gain something much more meaningful, that he has never before truly had: trust in himself.

[olgiisworld]

The interview // Choi Seungcheol

summary; you and Seungcheol have been a public couple on the media, both of you big artists, him being the leader of the group named Seventeen. Things have been a little rough lately due to lack of communication. You're invited to talk on a podcast about your recent achievements, but when your personal life is mentioned as a topic, you get bitter, and you don't manage to hide it. But how about the consequences?

Y/n x Seungcheol of Seventeen, genre: angst, frustration and unfairness with a hint of fluff in the end.

Word Count; 4,476 (oopsie)

Warnings; swearing

note; it took me months to finish this (mostly because of loss of inspiration, so you might notice inconsistency), but it's nothing special. Although you might like it :) I'd love to see comments! thank you for your support on my Beomgyu one-shot <3 smoochies ♡

it's been a while i've felt like shit. it's been a while i've felt more welcome to talk to the wall than talking to Seungcheol.

talking to Seungcheol seemed so hard for some reason. all we've been doing is fighting or ignoring each other. and that would be okay, if we didn't have each other's house keys.

it is hard to maintain a relationship that happened to go public, when none of you planned it. both me and Seungcheol being public figures really sat bad, especially with his constant need of privacy.

but it is hard. we can't just not leave the house.

that's mostly the reason we've been fighting.

everyday was a circle.

i return back to his apartment, where we had a silent agreement to meet everyday after work. my body and mind exhausted from all the work i've put in the studio. frustration seeping through my body, because of the disagreements i've had with the rest of my colleagues. concern, pain, fatigue, everything coming together, creating this unpleasant expression on my face. i know i seem cold.

but he just sits there. slumped on his couch. eyes fixed on the familiar black box. he cares enough to say "hey, how's work?", but not enough to ask about how I am. so i just shrug my shoulders and walk past him.

that's my life with my 'oh-so-wanted' boyfriend.

i'm a starved woman.

starved from love, from affection, from tenderness, from touch.

just touch.

his touch.

he hasn't touched me in god knows how long. all i get are dead kisses.

the repetition of each day made me feel angry, frustrated, pained, disappointed. made me feel like i was not worthy of him.

and the worst thing is that i cannot communicate my thoughts with the person i love.

he seems so stressed with his upcoming tour, that giving him one more reason to yell will only break him.

so i suffered in silence.

last week's fight was interesting.

a photo of us shopping together started making its way around social media. Seungcheol hated social media. and we both looked quite miserable in the photos, but i don't know if he noticed.

he yelled at me for not being careful enough.

apparently, i was the reason they saw us and they took those fucking pictures. like i enjoy being on strangers' camera rolls.

and i yelled back.

and we fought.

again.

damn it.

i cried so hard and he didn't even try to comfort me.

he didn't even touch me.

he didn't.

he didn't try to reach out.

he wouldn't even touch my hand by mistake.

i was so fed up.

so fed up of not feeling desired by the only person i loved..

the week passed, the same circle repeating itself.

i started going back to my house after work. Seungcheol didn't even try to ask why. he only said "i get that you might need space".

I am the one who needs the space?

i didn't even argue back. i knew where this was going and i felt like i was finally ready.

today, i had an interview.

nothing huge, just a small podcast. friendly podcast.

i wore comfortable clothes and hid my fatigue behind foundation and blush. i was okay with pretending like everything was fine.

it only broke my heart that people assumed "i am the happiest i've ever been". because people can only make assumptions. people only see the pictures. people only see the smiles, the kisses. or even the fatigue. but, "oh, everything is okay, she's got her man".

but what about Seuncheol?

people saw that he was stressed. people saw that he's probably not happy. people really had the audacity to say "i'm not good enough for him"!

like, fuck they know? they know nothing

and he never said anything. he never addressed those comments.

why?

because he believes that "what people say are bullshit"

but it sounded more like i'm not worth a small clarification.

i grabbed my keys and phone, closed my door and headed to the podcast set up.

everything was really friendly.

Alex, a familiar face of mine, would host the show.

i've happened to meet her before, at after-parties and gatherings, so we had talked before. everything was comfortable.

the podcast started shortly after and the talk was great. we also had a drink and a girls' talk that actually helped me take my mind off of my stress.

at one point, she turned to look at me when i sipped a little of my drink.

"so, um, i just.. i wanted to ask a few things, i know you don't really talk about your personal life, and that's why the questions are quite.. generic? you know.. of course, you can tell me to stop"

i felt some concern wash over me, as to what the consequences of this conversation could be. but i shrugged it off with a soft chuckle as i fixed my posture, leaning a little closer to the microphone.

"no, don't worry about it, shoot"

she smiled and read the notes of her phone, taking a quick sip of her drink as well.

''so, what is it like to be in a relationship?"

she looked at me with a small smile.

and all i could do was huff, trying to find an adequate answer.

i leaned back to the microphone.

"honestly? really hard"

Alex shot an eyebrow up in surprise.

"really? why, girl? is it hard for two great artists to live up to everyone's expectations?''

she chuckled and i just shook my head in thought.

i tried to put my thoughts in a row. it's hard to express everything i feel to someone after being so.. alone.

but i felt frustrated and fed up at the moment.

i fidgeted a little on my seat.

"i don't know.. it's not like there are no hardships in a relationship anyway.. it's just.. you can't find a way out of a hardship without communication, or respect. or understanding. there are many elements that have to balance out the hardships of a relationship, you know? at least that's how i view it"

i shrugged, my implication clear.

Alex caught my glimpse.

she nodded and looked at her phone shortly.

"that is really interesting, but everything can work out with love and patience"

i nodded, my smile a little bitter

"i guess.. i can't really tell you"

she tried to play it off with a small chuckle and i forced a smile

"i know you guys don't talk about your relationship, and privacy request is respected. but, not even posting moments on social media.. that's amazing. i actually admire that. it shows how strong your bond can be."

i chuckled, bitterness lingering on my laugh.

"not really. i wouldn't mind posting a picture or two. privacy is very much needed, but it's not like we have something to hide, or something to be so private about.. anyway, i really don't think it's that serious. but everyone has their own point of view."

she nodded, not wanting to pry on the matter, since she noticed my uneasiness.

she read of her notes again.

"does he inspire you to write?'

the question felt like a stab to the heart.

i couldn't say 'he used to'

and i couldn't say 'no' either

but i didn't want to lie.

i took a deep breath, trying to collect my words. i leaned on the microphone one more time.

"i don't really get inspired by real people.. mostly fictional characters, fictional situations.. nothing real. i used to find material from real life but.. i guess, my style changed"

i shrugged and forced a chuckle, trying to shake the feeling off.

Alex nodded and put a smile on her face.

"alright then, let's move on.."

i let out a breath i didn't even know i was holding. i took a sip of my drink, feeling quite relieved that we moved on from that topic.

the rest of the podcast went great, but i was tired and i couldn't wait for it to end.

as soon as we were done, i shook hands with Alex, she informed me about the slight editing she wanted to do, she thanked me and i thanked her back. she said that the episode would be out by the end of the week. i smiled and thanked her for having me. and i left.

i returned to my miserable apartment. the silence defeaning.

i hadn't seen Seungcheol in a week, but he didn't really seem to care.

i just left my shoes and coat next to the couch. i had lost my appetite completely.

i sat on the couch and took my phone in my hand.

i checked some of my messages and i saw Seungcheol's name among the notifications.

'Hey, is everything okay'

again.

not how I am. not if I am okay.

he really didn't give a damn about me.

i texted back a 'fine, no worries' and threw my phone at the end of the couch.

i started crying.

the only thing that comforted me was the sound of my own crying.

i hugged my arms around me and fell back on the couch. i was lost. i needed navigation. and he couldn't fucking give it to me.

[...]

Friday.

i headed back to my car after a long exhausting session at the studio. once i fastened my seatbelt, i grabbed my phone to check on some missed calls. a notification came in, saying that my podcast with Alex was out. i smiled excitedly, and turned it on to listen on my way back home. i texted her shortly and i threw my phone next to my driver's seat. i just concentrated on the road, the podcast being a pleasant background sound.

the drive back home was short, sadly. i just picked up my stuff, my phone still playing the podcast, as i walked back to my door.

i walked in, throwing my stuff on the couch, taking off my shoes and running to the kitchen, to grab some water.

when i walked in, i saw Seungcheol leaned against the counter, arms crossed on his chest, expression serious to mad.

my whole face went white when i saw him.

"fuck! you scared me.. what are you doing here?"

i was so shocked he was in my kitchen, probably more than i should, considering that he is my boyfriend.

he took a deep breath before i heard his voice.

"what the fuck? seriously. you're the one who's shocked here."

i looked around, confused by his words. i shrugged my shoulders.

"i guess.. i don't usually find you hiding in my house.. especially after not seeing you for a whole week.."

he scoffed. he didn't leave me any room for reaction.

"and you haven't even tried to reach out for a whole week.. but i guess, that's okay. relationships don't work without communication, like you said."

his words confused me even more.

i realized that what he quoted were my words on Alex's podcast. Now everything made sense.

i walked a little closer.

''are you seriously mad about this bullshit?''

his eyes widened

"bullshit? you say that calling me out is bullshit? telling EVEYONE how you feel, except from me, bullshit?''

my own eyes widened at his words

"what?"

his lips narrowed down, his madness more visible.

"what do you fucking mean with what? you literally let every fucking idiot know what's going on between us!"

he yelled

i looked at him in shock before processing to react with a scoff

"are you serious? what, how? by telling people that i'm having hardships in my relationship?"

he took a step closer

"you could have told me! me! not everyone! making everyone believe that we suffer!"

my head tilted in pure curiosity.

"which.. we don't?''

i asked, so simply.

he looked at me, his fingers running through his hair.

"that's not the point, the point is that you let everyone-"

i couldn't bear to listen so i yelled back

"i thought you didn't give a shit about what everyone thinks! you're such a hypocrite!"

he looked at me in shock

his eyes filled with disappointment.

"you literally implied that i don't love you."

my own eyes filled with anger and hurt.

"what do you fucking mean? you mean to tell me that i'm wrong? that everything is fine? that we don't fight every single time we try to talk? that we communicate just perfectly? that you don't ignore me? that you don't act like i am a stranger? no, i'm sorry, my mistake. you would touch a stranger, even if it was a fucking accident!"

he stayed there, in front of me, his face emotionless. he just heard what i said. or dogded my words, either way, he reacted the same.

"you implied that i don't fucking love you."

at this point, i felt helpless. fed up. rock-bottom. i just shook my head and let my tears slip from my eyes.

"Seungcheol, you don't love me. and i don't care. i have accepted it."

he cracked a hint of emotion, as he lightly flinched

"what are you even saying?"

i wiped my tears quickly.

"that you're a coward. that's what i'm saying."

he took a step closer, tilting his head confused.

"how am I a coward? you're the one who went and told everyone what we're going through! and you didn't even bother to tell ME something!"

i couldn't listen, i couldn't just stand there and listen.

I let out a cynical chuckle.

"and I thought you didn't even bother to watch my interviews.. guess i'm wrong"

I wiped my tears.

he seemed even more mad.

"of course I watch your stuff, but even if I didn't want to, everyone has been sending me this stupid podcast since it came out! everyone found a chance to make fun of me!"

i replied with the same anger.

"well, sorry, but you had to take a taste of your own medicine! do you even know what people say about us online?! do you? do you know what it's like to read that I'm not good enough for you, that I don't deserve you? do you even know how everyone fucking praises you, but all of them downgrade me? do you, Seungcheol? I've been living like this for the past 1 year and I never, ever complained to you about it. Because you always kept saying that YOU don't give a fuck about what people say! so fuck you, Cheol!"

my tears were running like a river at this point, but the mad expression on his face was driving me insane. his eyebrows relaxed a bit.

I made a move to leave, not wanting to have another fight. but, something I wouldn't expect, he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

i pulled my hand away.

"no! don't you fucking dare touch me now! I've had enough! enough! you hear me? you're so cheap! you're embarrassed that everyone knows about your relationship not working, but you don't even care enough to fix this mess! fucking coward.."

he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he grabbed my wrist again.

he pulled me closer.

"I'm not a coward! I'm just.. stressed! really fucking stressed! and I know that you don't care-"

I stopped him.

"i don't care? I don't care?! are you stupid?!"

he tightened his grip on my wrist.

"how do you care?! you care and you don't even call me for a week? you care, but you don't tell me what's bothering you? instead, you go and talk about our problems in a podcast?"

i took a deep breath and looked at him, trying to remain calm.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

he swallowed down my words.

"what the fuck, y/n?"

i let out a deep breath.

i was on the verge of a mental breakdown, feeling like this conversation is the repetition of pointless yelling and arguments that were better understood by a wall.

i just shook my head, my expression full of disappointment.

"Seungcheol, i can't do this anymore."

his expression softened and he let go of my wrist, pulling his own hand back hesitantly.

his voice almost scared.

"what do you mean?"

i sighed softly, not able to hold back anymore. it was now or never. and i, unlike him, was not a coward. it was time to finally do it.

"it's not working... it can't.. it can't work... between us.."

my expectations were simple. him getting sad and disappointed or him not even caring enough to have a reaction. i surely not expected him to get mad at me, like he did.

"and you call me a coward?"

i looked at him confused. i didn't even find the chance to talk before he interrupted me.

"you're telling me that it's easier to talk to a wall, you go all out about me in a podcast, you don't text, you don't call, you don't care. and now you're breaking up with me? so, you actually don't love me."

i heard his words carefully before rolling my eyes in frustration, my reaction getting him more mad and he threw his hands in the air.

"love is not enough to hold a whole relationship up, okay-"

he yelled back, interrupting me.

"bullshit! and you know it! i love you, and i don't care if you can't see it, i care that i feel it though!"

my eyes widened slightly in shock but i managed to yell back.

"why don't you touch me?! why do you ignore me?! what have i done to you, how can you say that you love me?!"

he looked at me, his eyes mirroring the same frustration as mine did. but there was something else. the frustration was not towards me, it was towards himself.

"I don't know! i don't know! i don't know..."

his voice softened at the last 'i don't know', and i remained silent since he seemed to have a lot more to say. he let out a small sigh.

"I've been really really really stressed. really stressed. we're on the verge of canceling a world tour, our manager keeps telling us that he wants to quit, and we've lost a lot of money because of a merch company that happened to be frauds."

my mouth opened in shock at his confession.

Seungcheol never told me about any of these.

i was trying to find a reaction but i couldn't find it. so he talked instead.

"and you breaking up with me is the cherry on top. i know that i can't defend myself, and i won't sound pathetic enough to beg you to stay. if you want to leave me, it's fine. for you. i can't tie you down anyway."

his voice came out small, weak, pathetic, like he was scared to be perceived.

i managed to get my voice out.

"why didn't you say anything?"

he looked into my eyes, dead serious as he quoted me.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

i clenched my jaw, feeling anger instead of sympathy building up. i hit his chest, without thinking much, but he didn't even flinch. his eyes simply pierced through me.

"you're not capable of even admitting that you need me? really? i hate you!"

i felt fed up with my own self, pathetic with how miserable i was and felt. i was sad. my whole life was sad. i built a whole career that seemed to be drowning me. and my words didn't even shake his poker face.

tears streamed down my face and i couldn't control my sobs. even if i sounded pathetic, at least i was honest to my feelings.

i knew i was the reason we couldn't communicate now that we found a chance, but i was feeling too depressed to even try it.

there had been many chances in the past, and since nothing worked, this wouldn't work either. i simply cried.

he looked down for a moment, the straight line of his lips unwavering. he took a deep breath, sighing softly through his nose. i put a few strands of my hair behind my ear, while my tears were falling down like a waterfall.

i wiped as many as i could.

i knew that nothing could shake or top the tension my three simple words just created.

or at least that's what i thought, before he grabbed my chin and he kissed me.

my crying eyes opened in shock, his hand holding my lips close as his other arm creeped around me, pulling me into his embrace. the shock wouldn't let me kiss back, and i felt like he used my vulnerability to his advantage.

i felt frustrated, confused, and i pulled my head back since he held me close by my waist, trapping my hands on his chest, the feeling both new and familiar.

"i said i hate you!"

"oh shut up.."

he simply replied before pulling me back into a kiss, a hundred times more passionate than the first one. it was the first time in months that he kissed me with so much emotion. i could feel it. i could feel that he meant it. his other arm wrapped around me as well and he held me close, months after our last hug. and his embrace was so warm and nostalgic. my mind drifted to the memories of our first dates and my lips started moving against his, by instict.

my hands gently tugged on his shirt, the tears in my eyes stopping.

i felt warm.

and i hadn't felt warm like this since forever.

he kissed me with so much meaning and passion, like i would disappear if he'd let go..

after a moment, his lips moved to my jawline, placing gentle kisses along the line of it towards the spot below my ear. he placed soft kisses on my neck and his hands moved up and down my back, touching me gently. re-exploring me.

opening old wounds.

my breath became a little heavier as my mind traveled with his touch. the feeling was so new, yet so familiar to me.

i wasn't sure of what to say, how to talk.

he touched me after god knows how long.

i heard his voice, his breath tingling my neck.

"i'm so stupid.."

he simply said, but i didn't have an answer. not an an argument. he placed soft kisses on my neck, his hands traveling down my body.

"i need you so bad.. i need all of you.. in my life, forever, and right now.."

he whispered, sending chills down my spine. i haven't heard him talk like that, probably never.

"i need you right now, i love you.. i love you so much.."

he kissed my lips, his words felt like heavy prayers.

i looked into his eyes, feeling the vulnerability reaching the ceiling.

he kissed my face gently, placing a strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek.

"you're the only tranquilizer i'll ever need.. i'm so sorry for never seeing it.."

he kissed my lips gently again.

i was so lost that words wouldn't even dare to come out my mouth.

but he didn't expect anything from me. he simply poured his heart out, like he hadn't done in months.

"i've been so stressed out and closed off that i didn't realize what i was doing to the only person that could help me."

his hands explored my body like he was searching for undiscovered spots.

my mouth formed a soft pout, my eyes glistening.

he pressed another soft kiss on my pout.

"baby, i'm sorry. i love you. and i'm a dick that doesn't deserve you. and i know it. i'll respect your choice to leave me."

he pressed a kiss on my cheek like a final goodbye and he softly unwrapped his arms from my body, but my hands grabbed them, almost like an instict, and i wrapped them around me again.

i kissed his lips a little more aggressively than expected by the both of us actually, and my hands cupped his cheeks. he kissed me back, without restraints.

my hands ran through his hair, softly tugging on his locks.

i broke the kiss for a breath and i talked.

"you're so stupid"

he nodded quickly, feeling breathless.

"yes, i am"

i kissed him again and i mumbled against his lips

"so stupid"

he moved his lips with more hunger as he repeated

"so so stupid"

i pulled back briefly, my chest carrying my heavy breaths, my fingers tracing the softness of his hair, his skin, leaving fire to their wake. my eyes locked in his.

i shook my head gently, processing the overwhelming emotion in my heart. i finally managed to express it.

"i love you, but you hurt me so bad"

i saw his face twisting with guilt. i knew he wasn't in a better position with all the stress he carried, but Seungcheol never meant harm. he was always a good guy. that doesn't justify his actions and i knew that, but i felt every crumb of love for him resurrecting, just because of his touch.

he spoke softly, his hands gripping on my skin.

"i'm so sorry.. i'm so so sorry.. i'll respect it if you want to leave me.."

i covered his mouth quickly, his eyes looking into mine with surpise. i sniffled softly before talking.

"i won't leave, you idiot"

he pulled my hand down, his expression more surprised and confused.

"but why?"

i sniffled again, a hint of smile that hasn't appeared on my face in months made its way on my lips.

"because i've made a mental promise to myself. i'm always by your side when you need me."

his expression turned into a melted one, his lips finding my cheek and leaving a couple of soft, loving kisses.

"i love you. i'm so sorry.''

he spoke softly, resting his forehead in mine.

i sighed softly through my nose, my emotions twirling inside of me like crazy.

"i love you too."

i added, and i closed my eyes.

he did the same.

at that time, everything felt a little more sure than usual. i clinged to that hint of hope he expressed through his words of affirmation.

my hand caressed his back softly.

why does every relationship have to go through a rough patch that leaves a part of you dead right after? you know it won't be the same. the only thing that gives you hope is the love inside you that can't die down. and i felt it, in his hug. i felt a little more sure.

[masonmontz]

hey hey hey, hope you like :) 

word count: 1,5k  angst/fluff

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

The house has been silent since Mason left two days ago. And not because he's going to travel with the team, he left because you had a fight.

The wedding took place two months ago, but you had been living together for a few months before that, that's why some stupid arguments were common and soon things were always resolved. 

You and Mason argued because he used to leave the wet towel on the bed, he used your expensive shampoo, the television was too loud, he took all the blankets for himself at night, but always out of nonsense and in the end you were laughing at what you were saying.

But this time Mason was stressed about the terrible season he had at Manchester United, you were stressed because your boss bothered you all day with things that were out of your control and you said terrible things to each other. 

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“Mason, can you please put your dirty dishes in the kitchen? I cleaned the house today.” You said as you passed him in the living room and saw that he was lying on the couch watching an old Man U match, he had two plates in front of him and a dirty glass. “Clean up any crumbs you dropped.” 

“Oh my God, Y/N, I heard you, please stop being annoying.” He said in an irritated tone, probably because it's the third time you've asked him to take the dirty dishes off the coffee table. “If it's bothering you that much, take it off. When the game is over I'll take it to the kitchen.” 

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” You said angrily and stopped next to the sofa, waiting for Mason to look at you, but he ignored you. “I’m talking to you Mason.” 

“Why do you ask me to do things over and over again?  I heard it the first time, but I don't need to do it the first second after you ask.” 

“I asked you to do this an hour ago.” 

“Because you can't keep anything organized at home. If Rose came to help us every day of the week, we still wouldn't be able to keep the house organized because you leave everything out of place.” You said angrily and Mason rolled his eyes at you, which made you furious. “Don't roll your eyes at me.” 

“Please stop talking for a bit, I need to watch this match for the next game.” 

You laughed in disbelief and couldn't believe Mason was being an asshole. He was in a terrible mood the whole week, it was like male PMS, even you weren't that annoying during your period. 

But instead of letting him watch the game, you did the most childish thing you could, you turned off the television and stood in front of it. Mason looked at you in disbelief and now he was furious with you too. 

“What the hell?” 

“Am I boring? So I can be more. Pick up those dirty dishes and take them to the kitchen. Now.”  

“This is so childish, how old are you? Fifteen?” Mason spoke loudly as he got up from the couch and picked up the dirty dishes from the coffee table. 

“Yes, I'm fifteen years old Mason, and you're probably ten years old since you can't help me at all with cleaning the house.” 

“I pay someone to do this, why do I have to worry about cleaning?” 

“That's the stupidest thing you've ever said.” 

“Know what? I'm fed up with you and this marriage.” 

You couldn't answer Mason when you heard what he said. Mason didn't look at you and went upstairs while you stood in the living room watching him.

Fed up with you? It definitely hurt you more than the fight. 

Mason came down the stairs two minutes later with a backpack and you already had tears in your eyes, but he only looked at you once before leaving.

“I'm leaving.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“To some place where I can be alone and away from you.” 

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

You sent him some messages and he didn't respond, but you saw on Manchester United's Instagram that he was going to training normally. 

And you were inconsolable. Just two days were enough for you to miss Mason terribly, and the silent house was sadder than you ever imagined. 

You were sitting on the couch with ice cream watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days for the thousandth time, no tears because you've already cried all afternoon.

The rain falling outside made everything sadder, because you and Mason liked to stay at home on rainy days watching movies together or cooking. Almost every day was good and you were fulfilled after marrying the love of your life, but Mason never told you the things that bothered him. 

Rainy days make you think of calm days, because Mason was the one who brought you calm and peace.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“Why did we decide to go out to dinner today?” Mason asked as soon as you both got into the car, panting from running because of the heavy rain. 

“Because I couldn't wait to eat pizza at that Italian restaurant.” You said as you tried to dry off the water with the coat Mason lent you. “Sorry for that.” 

“It’s fine, you know how much I love to go out to dinner with you.” He said, and before he started the car, you threw your arms around his neck, leaving some kisses and making Mason smile. “Hmm, you always know how to make me happy.”

“I always want to make you happy babe.” You said and whispered in his ear, seeing Mason shiver because of your touch. “Perhaps we should have a movie night?”

“You know me so well, Y/N.” 

The way home was quick and soon you and Mason were in comfortable clothes and lying on the huge bed in your bedroom. Mason brought several snacks to the room and even though he knew you didn't like eating in bed because of the dirt, this time you were so happy for him to be with you after a bad week that you didn't even mind. 

“What kind of cliché romcom do you want to watch today?” He asked when he turned on the TV.

“I think today you can choose a movie for us.”

“Oh my god, it's a miracle, I bet tomorrow will be the sunniest day in England.” He joked with you, making you laugh and hug him. 

“Shut up, I always let you choose the film for us.” 

“Yes honey, twice a year.” He rolled his eyes and left a kiss on your forehead. “Just kidding, I love it when you pick a movie for us.”

“And I love you.” You whispered, but he heard you and smiled. 

“And I love you much more, even if you make me watch those cliché romance movies.”

“Our romance is cliché.”

“And it's my favorite, that's why I don't like the others.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Debbie sent you a message with videos of Summer and Mila as they spent the day with their grandparents, so you realized that Mason hadn't told her that he had left home. You didn't even know where he was for the last two days, you didn't know if he was at a friend's house or a hotel. You texted him asking where he was, asking him to come home, but only received silence in response.

You were lost in thought and didn't notice that Mason was standing in the doorway, wet from the rain and with the same backpack he left with two days ago. You only noticed he was home when he coughed on purpose.

You stood up scared when you saw him there, and tears fell when you ran to him and hugged him. Mason held you tightly against him, smelling your perfume that he had been missing. 

“I missed you so much, where have you been?” You cried as you hugged him.

“I was at Mainoo. Oh, I missed you so much, Y/N.” He said and looked at you, wiping your tears. “We will never fight again. Never again, you hear?” 

“I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass, I promise I'll try better.”

“You’re a pain in the ass but you’re my pain in the ass, okay? I don't care if you fight with me for leaving the towel wet or the dishes dirty, I just want you to do all this with me and not with someone else. I'm sorry for leaving, I was childish.”

“I can't believe you left me for two days.”

“Believe me, in the first ten minutes I was already missing you.” He said and kissed you. “And just so you know, I'm going to take a shower and use your expensive shampoo one more time.”

“I'm going to take a shower with you and we're both going to use my expensive shampoo.”

“Can we please have a movie night later? I didn't like watching movies with Mainoo, he's not soft and hot like you.”

“I'm glad to hear that, husband.”

“Mrs. Mount, you know you're the only one for me.”

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

Apologies for the ones here for TexAid or even the mechs but it's Combaticon background time again~! Contains thinly veilled Onslaught/Blast Off I'm SO weak for them.

Oh how unkind the narrative is to them (it's me. I did this.)

Edit: completely realised I forgot: TW for thinly veiled homophobia

Brawl found a kitten once.

The thing was tiny, dwarfed by his massive hands. Its eyes were barely open, its fur matted with dirt and mud. They were pretty sure it was going to die. Its pitiful meows were more raspy whispers.

But Brawl still decided to look after it. His hands were suited for destruction, skilled at breaking and crushing. The kitten looked so fragile nestled up against the scars and callouses.

Vortex had said that he could wring its neck and kill it before it knew his hands were there - he’d had to do it before to orphaned kittens with frostbite in his home town when he was younger. He was practiced at it, a natural – the old women had said so themselves as they helped him bury their little bodies in the frozen ground. Brawl was venomously opposed to the idea. He fed it warm milk through a syringe, used a damp cloth to work the worst of the filth from its fur, and revealed the tabby cat coat pattern hidden underneath. Blast Off had remarked that they looked like a mackerel fish, and Brawl had decided that the cat was to be christened Mackerel.

Its life would be so short it didn’t matter what they called it, he’d argued. It’s not like they’d ever grow to care. It’s not as if they’d be mincing around with a cat mascot called Mackerel.

Except Brawl was very attached to Mackerel.

The kitten spent its naps tucked away in a pocket on his chest, replacing ammo and explosives. When awake, he watched him like a hawk. He procured him blankets, soft and fresh, warm and clean. He sat in his lap when they were in their vehicle, he held him close when bullets were flying, and shared pieces of his meals with him when he was old enough for solids.

The thing was too stupid to die.

Mackerel loved Brawl. He’d just need to see him to start purring. And, in turn, Brawl loved Mackerel.

It broke Brawls heart to leave him behind. His sister had promised to look after him, to make sure he was clean and fed and healthy, and once Brawl could come back, he’d be sure to remember him and would happily purr for him again. They all pretended they didn’t see the tears in his eyes as he said goodbye, that they didn’t hear the way his voice shuddered and broke as he stroked him one last time.

He didn’t know that it was the last time he ever would at the time, but something in him must have told him it would be.

It was all a bit unfair, really.

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

“Oh my god. He’s wearing the fucking trousers again.” Blast Off groaned.

Onslaught whipped around. “For fucks sake.” He slapped that mornings newspaper down onto the makeshift table and stood up, gesturing for Swindle to turn around. “No, no, absolutely not. Go get changed.”

“What’s wrong?” Swindle asked innocently. “I didn’t think we had any dirty jobs today.” The trousers were gaudy and glittery and godawful. How he liked them god only knew – he had locked eyes with them in the shop and that had been it. Instant infatuation. He was obsessed. Brawl saw him sneak back to the shop to buy more when his first pair mysteriously gained a rip across the groin. He seemed to always have a set at the ready.

“We’re meeting with potential clients, Swindle, you can’t come looking like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how I look!”

“You have two choices.” Two fingers were presented to him. “You take them off yourself,” a finger curled to his palm, “Or I take them off for you.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Alright, fine. I’ll need you to undo them for me though, my fingers are too stiff.” Swindle winked at Blast Off. Blast Off pursed his lips.

Blast Off took a knife from the sheath on his calf and calmly handed it to Onslaught. Onslaught took it without looking, and beckoned Swindle forwards.

“We’ll cut you out, then.”

“On second thought, I think I’ve got it!” Swindle squeaked, disappearing off back to his room. Onslaught tutted and passed Blast Off back his knife.

“Cheeky git.”

Blast Off hummed, carefully sliding it back into its sheath. “I was looking forwards to seeing them destroyed again.”

“He’s got three pairs.” Onslaught looked at him, expression very grim indeed. “I’ve seen them.”

“I can leak our location to get them destroyed?”

“There’s probably a stash of them somewhere in secure storage too. We’d never find them all.”

“Worth a shot…” He muttered. He stubbed out his cigarette on an ash tray balanced on the arm of his chair before placing it neatly onto the table and standing, brushing off imagined dust. “How long do we give him before we leave?”

“Two more minutes.” Onslaught checked his watch. “Is the car good to go?”

“It starts. Has Megatron still not responded?”

Onslaught pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head. Blast Off scoffed.

“Bastard.” He dramatically threw his hands up. “What does he expect to happen? Christ. He’s fucking useless.”

“Would you rather deal with Starscream again?”

“I’d rather be dead.”

“And we will be if we don’t get going!” Swindle announced as he walked in, clapping his hands. “Come on, to the car!”

“You act as though you weren’t the one keeping us waiting with your ridiculous wardrobe.” Blast Off chided as he grabbed the keys. “I didn’t expect much from the English, but Jesus Christ. Are you all blind?”

“Shut it, you damn frog.”

“That’s enough.” Onslaught firmly warned. They both immediately straightened, jaws snapping shut.

Swindle stuck his tongue out at Blast Off. Blast off flipped him off.

“I’m setting fire to those damn trousers.” Blast Off threatened as they got into the car. Onslaught got into the passenger seat, rolling his eyes at them. Swindle scoffed.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

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

“For goodness sake! Sit down right now!”

The fabric of his shirt ripped with ease and quickly turned red with blood, seeping between his fingers as he pressed his hand to the wound.

“What did you even do?!” Blast Off demanded. “All that bravado about getting back in one piece! Look at you! Your lip will need stitches! Your eye is black! Why?!”

“They were going to find you.” Onslaught was pressing a wad of tissues to his lip, obscuring his voice. “I did my job.”

“If they’re going to find me then tell me so I can flee my nest, not… not whatever this is! Oscar!” He was desperately pulling at tissues to help stem the flow of the wound in his arm. “It wasn’t that important! Look; we haven’t got Swindles credit card, so you’re just going to have to suffer through whatever I can Frankenstein together. Hold this tightly - think I saw some superglue? They used to use that for wounds, right..?”

“Probably not in its current form.” He obediently replaced his hands over Blast Off’s, his hand pressing against a blood-soaked one. “Shit. Where’s Swindle when you need him?”

“Did you at least win?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I did. One’s tied up at the bottom of the stairs. The other’s dead.”

“Two?”

“One each.” He raised two fingers. “One meant to keep me busy, one off to go get you.”

“As if I wouldn’t make their head a red mist.” He tutted. “Let me look for that glue.”

He carefully pulled his hand out from under Onslaughts, the air ice cold against it. He felt like he had been stripped bare where his skin had been pressed against his own, whittled down to the bone.

The glue was sat on top of a first aid kit. He brought both back to him, popping it open to take a look.

It wasn’t great, but it would do.

The arm was first. The bleeding was manageable, but they’d need to get an actual professional to look at it - Blast Off barely remembered his training. It had been a single day in a scorching hot tent filled with sand, the air thick and heavy like a blanket, and his head had thumped and ached the whole way through. He’d only received the pass mark because he had given the instructor a cigarette.

“Jean.”

Blast Off’s eyes snapped to his. Onslaught only ever used his name when they were alone - especially the short version. And likewise - he only ever called Onslaught Oscar if no one was around to hear it. Suddenly, he was aware that he was knelt on the seat Onslaught had taken, his knees either side of his thick thigh, their bodies inches away - he could feel the heat rolling off of him and suddenly his mind was racing away in another direction, one that had his hands hands raking down his commanders back and lips at his throat-

“When we’re done here, we move to the backup.”

“Yessir.” Quit it.

He did his best for his arm. It was shallower than it looked, thank fuck - thick bundles of gauze and a well wrapped bandage kept the pressure required on. His sleeve wouldn’t go back over it, but he would be okay - it was still baking hot outside, the heat rolling off the ground in thick waves.

“Hold still - let me put your lip back together.”

“Ow!” Onslaught hissed and pulled away at the sting of the alcohol Blast Off had dripped onto the open wound.

“Be quiet, I’ll kiss it better, how about that?”

Onslaught snorted, and obediently remained still as Blast Off applied the suture strips to his lip, carefully pulling the flesh back together. It would scar horribly, but it would just join the other one. Maybe he’d end up matching with Brawl? That would be fun.

“There, done.” Blast Off leaned back to appraise his work. He grimaced. “It will do.” He stepped back and reached for his gun, fully intending on getting right back to it and finishing the job when Onslaught cleared his throat expectantly.

“My kiss?”

Blast Off rolled his eyes. “You really try your luck, you know that? Fine. Here.” He leaned forwards, the corner of his lip brushing against the stubble that wrapped around the corner of Onslaughts.

“Mwah! Happy?”

Onslaught looked at him with wide eyes, the tips of his ears burning pink. He had a look in his eye that had Blast Off’s insides turning, blood rushing down and making him feel dizzy. There was hunger in them, a look only a starving man had.

“… Happy.” He finally replied.

They’d had to drag the survivor by his feet. They’d repurposed some curtains to wrap around him to make him easier to move - he cursed and swore and spat venom the whole way. Onslaught ignored him. Blast Off did his best to.

“Where did he even learn to speak like that?” He asked, utterly aghast.

“Same place I did, most likely.”

“He’s going to alert everyone to our location. We should have left him.”

“Vortex needs him.”

“Damn it, he can come get him himself then!”

They ended up stuffing his mouth with a sock. Blast Off made himself comfortable in his new spot, settling in for the long game - the sun was starting to get low in the sky. Time was running out.

Time was running out, and he couldn’t quite push Onslaught out of his mind.

He had two targets left out of the four. Small game, but tricky - they were meant to be leaving the facility they were watching, but so far there hadn’t been any sign of them. He was starting to feel twitchy.

A man walked over to a window, and he felt his heart stop. Target spotted. He held his breath, waiting for them to step into just the right position-

The glass splintered and red sprayed up in a mist. He swiftly reloaded, ducking down to hide himself.

Oh, I am so pleased he finally showed his face.

The sun sunk lower, and Blast Off finally moved.

“When does Brawl get here?” He asked.

“Five minutes.” Onslaught glanced at him and offered him an open carton of cigarettes, one sticking out. “Smoke?”

“Not yet.” Blast Off shook his head. “When we’re back.”

“Ever the professional. I’ll look bad if I have one, now.”

“Can I have one?” Their captive asked, voice muffled.

“Not yet.” They replied in unison.

Five minutes later, Brawl arrived. He was alone - Swindle was still with Lockdown negotiating a deal (Blast Off wasn’t so sure that’s what he was doing now, but if he stuck his nose into his business Swindle would scrutinise his, so he kept out of it and looked the other way) and Vortex was preparing for his new guest. Apparently he’d made quite a mess earlier and had lots to sanitise.

Their special guest loaded, still wrapped in the curtain, Onslaught got into the front seat and Blast Off slipped in behind him. He quickly dug his binoculars out of his bag, checking them over - he’d knocked them quite hard when they were manhandling the curtain-bundle into the car - he absently brushed off the sand and prepared his rifle.

“You split your lip?” Brawl asked as they pulled away.

“Yeah. I’ll get stitches tomorrow.”

“That guy back there?” Brawl gestured with his head.

“Nah, the dead one.”

“Eye for an eye.” Brawl snickered. “And the black eye?”

“Now that was him.”

Blast Off peered out through the binoculars, scanning for his targets. He’d hit 3 out of the 4. Just one was eluding him. It wouldn’t do.

The tunnel that lead them towards the valley they had carved out a space of their own was rapidly approaching - time was running out. Finding him now would be pure luck - cutting it this fine-

There. There he was, on a water tower. Looking for something. Looking for them.

“Cover your ears!” Blast Off instructed, pushing ear protectors over the head of their captive. He took aim and fired, watching as a dark shape slumped and fell from a tower. Smirk tugging at his lips, he pushed his own off his ears before removing them from the strangers, smiling down wickedly at him. “See, we can’t have you not able to hear, so be good for us, okay? Vortex doesn’t like it when you can’t hear him.”

“Tuck in, Blast Off.” Brawl warned from the drivers seat. “Tunnel.”

The rifle was drawn back into the car.

“Are we at an understanding?”

They rapidly nodded.

“Good!”

“Vortex will be happy you’ve got a new toy for him.” Brawl commented, slowing as they entered the pitch black tunnel. “He was saying the other day how it had been a while.”

“I hope he’s not rusty. We’ll need everything this guy knows.” Onslaught said. Blast Off caught himself staring at him - the way the lights of the dash illuminated him, the way it caught his eyes and tangled in his hair, the smell of grease and blood and sweat. His

Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his brow creased with focus, eyes squinting into the darkness ahead.

If things were different, they’d have never met and he wouldn’t be tortured like this with things he could never have, things he’d be so close to but never be able to touch. If things were different, everything would be so much simpler. Onslaught looked back at him in the rear view mirror. Their eyes met, and Blast Off felt a tingle down his spine.

Yeah. He’d take this any day. The torture of knowing him would always feel better than the absence of the one who made him feel whole.

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

The man wrapped in a curtain was roughly dumped on the floor of Vortex’s lab. They fell with a loud grunt, head bouncing off the floor. Brawl giggled, waving at them by wiggling his fingers before he left.

“Have fun, Tex, this one’s got a gob on him.”

“Oh, I do like it when they’re mouthy.” Vortex chirped back, rubbing his hands together.

“You’re all fucked up! Did you know that?!” The man hissed at them, wriggling desperately. “I don’t know anything!”

“That’s what they all say~” Vortex sung as he strode off to find a knife to cut him free. Blast off rolled his eyes at him.

“He’s right, you know. People like to crow about their innocence when they’re really just trying to keep the lid on the jar.”

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who needs a bodyguard.”

“And you’ve got a big mouth for someone who’s wrapped in an old ladies curtain, so I suppose that makes us even.”

“Fuck! You are so infuriating!”

“Yup.” Blast Off popped the p. He looked around for the sock – they’d taken it out on the basis of good behaviour, but apparently it needed to be crammed back in again.

“You like him.” The man said, eyes hard and voice cutting. “That big guy. Like a man likes a woman. Ha!” He laughed, spitting blood. “Forgive my wording - I wondered who was the tunnel and who was the train, he fought so valiantly to protect you-“

Vortex’s boot met his face with a crunch.

“Fuck me, shut up.” Vortex sighed, gesturing to his boot as they cried out and whimpered in agony, blood running down their face. “Look, now my boot’s all dirty! I just cleaned these!”

“Was that really necessary?” Blast Off asked.

“They were boring me.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Dinner’s at eight.”

“I’ll bring whiskey.”

The heavy door locked behind him, and he grimaced.

He still had Onslaughts blood dried onto his hands. A stupid, ravenous part of him wanted it to stain him, to never let it go. The sensible part of him strode off to the bathroom to set himself to rights.

[tritoch]

one thing i like to do when i'm feeling too unbothered and chill and normal is read venat discourse on twitter. makes me insane every single time it comes up. "she placed herself as a god above the ancients and judged that they had no right to live" "she was taking the only path available to her to stop meteion and defeat the final days because it needed to be a race that could handle dynamis" wrong wrong wrong! learn to read!

venat was stopping a planned mass sacrifice of non-ancient life by the only means available to her. that is the primary motivation for the sundering. shadowbringers says this to you, very very clearly. hythlodaeus in "a greater purpose," 5.0 (this is when you're chilling at the DMV together):

The Convocation of Fourteen─well, it was Thirteen at the time─endeavored to create a will for our star. They would repair the fundamental laws of order and halt the spread of destruction. But creation on such a scale required an immense source of power... Of those of us who still lived, nearly half offered up their lives in the name of salvation. And from their sacrifice, Zodiark was born. Just as we had hoped, He reached forth and halted the march of oblivion. ...Yet oh how the star had suffered. So many species lost. The land was blighted, the waters poisoned, and even the wind had ceased to blow. Once more did our people give of themselves to Zodiark. Another half of our race sacrificed to cleanse the world; to ensure that trees and grasses and myriad tiny lives would sprout and grow and flourish. The cycle of life had begun anew, and we reconsidered the means by which we might protect it. The Convocation decided thus: we would nurture our world until it was bursting with vitality. Then, when the time was right, we would offer some portion of its living energy to Zodiark... In return, He would restore to us those brethren whose souls had fed His strength, and together we would resume our role as stewards. There were, however, those who disagreed with this plan. They argued that enough had been sacrificed to Zodiark─that this new world should belong to the lives newly born. These dissidents surrendered their life energies in the creation of Hydaelyn, an incarnation of their opposing belief. And for the first time in history, our people stood divided... Know you, then, how this conflict ended?

Hythlodaeus is very clear: Following the first 50% sacrifice to Zodiark, the land was dying and there had been a mass die-off. A second 50% sacrifice (so 25% of the pre-Zodiark Ancient population) resolved that, cleansing the world and restoring nature and non-Ancient life. Afterwards, the Convocation planned a third sacrifice: they would "nurture [the] world until it was bursting with vitality," the "trees and grasses and myriad tiny lives" he describes earlier, and then sacrifice some considerable amount of that life to restore the Ancients comprising Zodiark.

People pretend that there's a lot more ambiguity on this point than there is, but it's quite clear that when he says "myriad tiny lives," he is saying something that encompasses the modern peoples of Eorzea or their very near ancestors (it's only been about 12,000 years since the Sundering. For comparison early modern humans emerged about 300,000 years ago, and there's no suggestion I'm aware of that evolution even exists on Etheirys anyhow). There's a couple very strong pieces of evidence for this:

First, anything that exists on multiple shards must have existed pre-Sundering, since there's close to no multidimensional travel (barring Ascians and the Exarch). Thus, all the player races, which we know exist on each shard so far, as well as, say, the Amalj'aa, the Kobolds, the Sahagin, and the Qiqirn, all must have existed before the Sundering since we also see them on the First.

Second, the phrasing of "trees and grasses and myriad tiny lives" positions "lives" as a category that encompasses everything that isn't trees and grasses. We can surmise that when he describes the Hydaelyn faction standing for "lives newly born" he's again describing basically everything that isn't plants. this again includes the spoken races of the current game or their ancestors; they are a clear part of what was at stake in the sacrifice.

Third, if that doesn't persuade you that Hythlodaeus is talking about lives like yours, consider that you've just spent the last few quests exploring the city full of giant ancient magic people going "wow! you're so small and childlike! what a miniscule living being you are!" When Hythlodaeus gives this speech about "myriad tiny lives," he is a literal enormous giant sitting next to you, a very tiny living being from his perspective.

This sacrifice, which Hythlodaeus explains to you in the DMV, is the crux of the matter and the root of Venat's choice. The time loop, her knowledge of Meteion, the debate over the right solution to the final days—all of that is secondary. She explicitly is unsure up until you meet her in the Aitiascope whether the time loop is stable and real and applies to you.

The essential issue is the fact that the Ancients are supposed to be stewards of the star, and now they are going to engage in mass sacrifice of lives that Venat knows are people like her and her peers (mostly this is thanks to being a humanist who believes in the sanctity and dignity of life but she also has the confirmation of your post-sundering, totally humanlike existence). Just a quarter of the Ancients' original number remain, their society is in tatters, and what's left is in the process of actively betraying every ideal they ever claimed to hold by slaughtering the life they allegedly guide and care for (which they know to be ensouled!) to undo the great and noble sacrifice of their loved ones.

but venat's faction is weak. it's her and like 13 sorta-important people she knows plus maybe some unnamed others. they lack the numbers or the raw ability to make something that can defeat zodiark, and will need instead to lean on venat's abilities.

her morals do not allow her to stand by as the convocation plans a mass sacrifice of "lesser" life. her circumstances do not give her the time or ability to win them over through rhetoric or decisively defeat them with force. nor can she actually destroy zodiark, because then the final days would simply resume. nor, I assume, is she interested in straight up slaughtering what remains of the ancients until the convocation's plan becomes impractical, assuming she is even strong enough to do so with just the twelve and the watcher's ancient selves for backup. there is no longer an option on the table which does not involve great pain. left to choose between unacceptable options, she chooses the one route which seems able to protect the vitality of the world and uphold the ancients' mission of shepherding all life upon the star towards flourishing: the sundering.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not helping my family pay for hospital bills?

🎷🔥 so i can find it later

This is going to need a lot of context right off the bat. I (20'sM) am a gay man that comes from an extremely conservative family. My sister (20'sF) is also a lesbian and recently got married and adopted a child. I'm very proud of her, but that's not the issue.

My parents seem to have little to no issue with my sister marrying a woman. They do have a very big issue with me liking dudes, however. Like, it was the reason my parents got divorced "big issue." I'm not gonna go into everything, but my sister ended up with my dad and I stayed with my mom for reasons I'd rather not share.

Our last parting was on... less than decent terms. Upon finding out that I was of the homosexual variety, my dad flipped his lid. He called me several slurs and said some other very hurtful things, and even made moves to physically attack me. My mom, also a very homophobic woman, stepped in and thankfully talked him down. Then divorce, etc etc.

I saved up enough money to move out when I turned 18 and may have done some impulsive things including completely trashing my mom's bathroom, which I know I'm definitely the asshole for, but in my defense my mom kept "forgetting" to pick up my prescriptions and I was manic (I have bipolar). But, again, I know I'm the AH for that.

I now live with my two best friends R (20sNB) and P (20sM) in a house we all pay for. R comes from money so they help out a lot, and I love them both to death. We kind of have a sort of situationship but none of us are poly? Idk it's weird we're just going with it rn.

Anyway, I bring them up bc we all went to my sister's wedding together, and my parents separately chewed me out for bringing them (and for R daring to wear a dress. They're amab for context) and I obviously argued back bc hey they're my best friends and my sister specifically said it was okay for me to bring them (she and R are also friends and they wouldve been invited regardless of me bringing P) and also because R looks very good in a dress and i can handle them shit-talking me but i will not tolerate slander towards R or P.

At the wedding, I went full no contact with them and told them to lose my number. They, ofc, did Not lose my number and I got several calls from extended family saying about what you would expect them to say, so I switched numbers and gave only my sister and her wife my new number.

My sister. I love her to pieces but sometimes she gets on my nerves. She gives my number to my mom to have "just in case," but she reassures me that she won't give it to my dad or any other family. So far, she's made good on that promise, I just have to deal with periodic calls about getting a girlfriend and having kids.

Now, my dad isn't the healthiest guy out there. He has arthritis, osteoporosis, and several other things that i don't really wanna get into. As he's aged he's only gotten worse and there have been several times he's almost died, but recently he's been put on hospice and has an estimated Not Very Long to live.

Here's where I may be the AH. My dad calls me while I'm at a very important, personal event for R (he got my number from my mom) and goes on a long rant on how I'm an unlovable disgrace and how he fed me and clothed me and I could make up for all that by helping him pay off hospital debt. I say no immediately and tell him that he's never been my dad, only my dna donor, and that he's going to be dead anyway and that selling his house could cover all the bills. He calls me many more names and tells me he wishes I was never born (calling my mom some very derogatory names too (she's asian)) and that i should just go ahead and off myself to save the world someone like me. I tell him he should die faster while he's at it because God knows the world already has enough bigots in it and there could never be too many mentally ill queers.

I hung up, but now I'm thinking I went a bit too far. AITA for not helping out with his hospital bills and yelling at him?

What are these acronyms?

[smolcuriouskitten]

hello, i'm looking for some new rp partners - are there any blogs that you think have a similar vibe to your own blog, writing-wise? are there any blogs, regardless of similarity, that you would highly recommend? preferably ocs over canons, but i'm open to either. thanks :)

Oh my god I get to gush about my moots. Please see below for all of the lovely options, keep in mind this list is in no order of preference as all of them are equally amazing. If you are not listed here, it doesnt mean I dont think your blog is cool, it just means we havent interacted enough either ic or ooc for me to form an opinion! ♡ Here we go!!

Starting off strong, we have @bcntbouquet and they are full of so many amazingly written oc's and some canons on their blogs mentioned in their pinned. They are the sweetest person ever and I have known them since the start of my blog. I will vouch for them until I am blue in the face and I would argue they need more recognition. Go yell at them affectionately!

We have some new editions, @darkwavedreams , @morgansmornings , and @morb1dg1rl . They all are excellently written muses who exudes the feminine energy and gives plenty of personality to go with it. You can tell these muses were written with alot of love and care and they deserve to be cherished too!!

Then we have @razorfst , @whyscserious / @sheldoney , @glowsgreen / @vsevildead , and @monmuses . These are considered canons but they are all written so god damn well. Toastie, aka Monmuses has range out of this world and potentially has a muse for all of your rping needs from both anime, video games, and tv/movies. All of them are just as amazing and their characters are written so accurately, I cant help but wonder if they are secretly typing away to respond. Though I doubt Herbert would do anything, he would force Dan to do it. ANYWAY GO FOLLOW THEM ALL.

And two of my all time favorites who are both OC's and are representing poc are @bewitchingbaker and @brooklynislandgirl . Both of the admins behind the account are literal angels and will bounce ideas off you and make you feel like you are in their home being fed freshly baked cookies. Literally go give them some love since they are doing the rp community justice with their POC muses. WE NEED MORE POC MUSES.

@painmon and @hubrisdescent are both moots I knew for awhile now and while we dont rp much, behind the scenes the world building we have is immaculate. I love their muses so so much, please give them some love!!

And only because I have to throw a fluffy/cute muse in here @themcst is another one of my favorite blogs to look at when Im sad or having a really hard day. Their threads never fail to make me laugh and brighten my day all the while. They do also have an OC that they put alot of love into and their range is literally insane like????

Honorable mentions to both @lostcndfound and @stringmastery . They both have the sweetest admins and will have your sides hurting from the goofy ideas they bounce off you. They deserve to be yelled at and given love as well.

[elbiotipo]

I was thinking on how to do Lovecraftian horror in a Project Zomboid-like game. By Lovecraftian horror I don't mean investigators like in the Call of Cthulhu RPG, or a FPS where you're a badass shooting tentacle monsters. I'm thinking of a setting where The Stars Were Right and the world is consumed by madness and surreal horror, with only some places where humanity still survives as such. Something like The Forever Winter, trying to survive by hiding and looting among ruins and wilderness but instead of giant mechs it's Elder Gods.

I mentioned Project Zomboid because it gets survival right. You have to keep yourself constantly fed, healthy, and even entertained, and oh there's also zombies. Surviving in such a world would be the same. You would be still a common human with all your needs, but your entire reality has collapsed now and you need to evade monsters, and fighting them will be impossible (at most you could take out some of their minions)

And that brings me to insanity. Now that's a topic with a lot of arguing to be done but let's think of it as gameplay. A simple HP points system is dumb. The Zomboid method of stacking debuffs for panic and such works but it's frustrating.

But think about it, what does make you insane in Lovecraftian fiction? It's not seeing a big guy with tentacles, it's trying to understand your own place in the universe and failing. (Though of course traumatic and horrorific sights don't help). So my idea is that you would be isekai'd transported to this new "post-Cthulhu" world, as a regular human (much like characters in Zomboid are average people) You would have some kind of mind-map that allows you to do things, from skills like crafting items to even just walking or speaking. Every time you experienced something lovecraftian, you could lose parts of the mind-map, but they would be mostly... Altered. Perhaps you can even strenghten yourself against the horrors, perhaps not. And on top of that, you would need to keep yourself alive and there won't be any convenient merchant NPCs or magical crafting. You could very well starve to near death, be awake for weeks (and when you sleep, the game doesn't stop, you can face the horrors in your dream... Or have nice dreams if you are doing well), be hurt with a long recovery, and those will take a toll in your psyche.

Maybe when I finally play Disco Elysium I'll get some ideas.

[f0rlorn]

we are young → john allerdyce

john allerdyce (x-men) x female!reader

notes → john knows he can count on you, and he wants you to know that you can count on him too. ahh yes, the infamous pyro. they kept my boy in the void for far too long. time to bring back this wattpad banger written by me in 2021.

give me a second i... i need to get my story straight. my friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the empire state

john had left to go grab his zippo from the car, just in case he needed it. bobby and marie had gone off somewhere doing god knows what. that left you alone, your drink the only thing keeping you company.

my lover, she's waiting for me. just across the bar. my seat's been taken by some sunglasses, asking 'bout a scar

john walked back into the building to find some guy chatting you up. he felt a pang of guilt as he heard the topic at hand. the man was asking about the burn that covered your wrist. you rubbed at it self consciously.

i know i gave it to you months ago, i know you're trying to forget. but between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies... you know i'm tryin' hard to take it back. so if by the time the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, i'll carry you home

john was never the best boyfriend. he knew that. everyone knew that. but he did try. he loved you more than anything. so no matter how many fucked up things he had done, he would be there for you, and you would be there for him.

"excuse me." john had walked up to the two of you. the man looked up at him, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the boy.

"you need something?" the man asked, glaring at john.

"you're in my seat." john responded flatly.

"and what are you gonna do about it?" he laughed, a smirk gracing his face.

"you don't want to find out." john was just about ready to snap, already fed up with the man. you put your hand on his back to calm him down.

"you should leave. before i make you." the man scoffed and backed away, probably off to find some other girl to flirt with.

"are you okay?" you asked john, a sincere look on your face. you laced your fingers with his, the gesture made him melt. you had always been so good to him. your soft and caring personality paired with his tough demeanor was beyond believable, many people back at the academy were amazed when you announced your relationship with john. they didn't understand how you could put up with the hothead all the time.

"i'm sorry..." he muttered. you frowned.

"john, how many times do i have to tell you that i forgive you? it was in the past, you can forget about it." you reassured him, cupping his cheek. he want quiet after that, not wanting to argue with you. you placed a kiss to his lips.

"i don't deserve you..." john smiled.

"yes, you do. you deserve the world and more, lover boy."

tonight, we are young. so let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun. now i know that i'm not all that you got. i guess that i... i just thought maybe we could find a way to fall apart. but our friends are back! so let's raise a tab! 'cause i found someone to carry me home

sooner or later, bobby and marie came back. the four of you left the bar area and found a booth to sit in. bobby and rogue had ordered practically half of the menu. you spent the rest of the time drinking and laughing, having a great time. it was nice to get a break from all the intense training you were doing. after your meal you parted ways, rogue had just moved into her new apartment and bobby would be spending the night there. john and you decided to just drive for a while, wanting to make the most of your alone time together.

the next thirty minutes were pure bliss, the two of you were singing along to the radio and making jokes. you were too drunk to think straight. it was fun until you sobered up, then the sleepiness hit you like a wave. you rested your head on john's shoulder. he glanced down at you as you dozed off. the moon illuminated your features, making your face glow. you looked ethereal. it was then that he knew everything would be alright, as long as you were by his side.

so if by the time the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, i'll carry you home tonight.

[frango-maconheiro]

wow, wow, interaction.

also, there's a stupid meaningless ramble i made out of this incredible petpeeve of mine with EW x reader stuff and it's just down the cut sggkjdfjkk (it's fr just me being extremely salty)

Anyway, hello!

Haha, my curious and lonely ass really thought it was a clever idea to read 'eddsworld x reader' content because it spawned in my timeline.... thinking that maaaybe they actually got good at it and made not too ooc stuff (this is heeeeaavily on matt content)

Now, i am profoundly remorseful of that choice because when i wrote this hours ago woth no wifi, i was arguing with the air.

Like, i won't lie on this. EW x reader.. They have evolved, a loooot since those 2017 fanfics (why were the x yn fics from eddsworld all copy-paste back then???) actually, it really surprised me because i definitely don't have the most cool memories of such fanfics,, Buuuuut, they still have that STUPID FAVORITISM. IT'S SO DAMN APPARENT. YOU THINK WE CAN'T SEE IT???

i get madder from down this line, especially since i was veery hungry when writing this. That's why you should always stay fed, keeps you slightly happier.

nhamnhamnhamm, writes aaall cool stuff for edd, tom 'n tord... maybe with an ooc here and there, but enough to ignore,, but matt? Matt gets so ooc, he can be mistaken for an oc if no name is given.

like,,, did.. did we watch the same dude on screen? i know he was pretty neglected in content, but cmon, what is that?? He's practically a romance repellent with his stupidity (said affectionately)

it's the same 'pipipipopopo just a sweet mama's boy' and 'ooo, he's sooo romantic, look at how much of gentleman he is compared to otheeeers' and 'whaao he so silly ::3 *treats him as if he weren't an adult character' and so much more, all in this weird stereotype

I guess i'm just disappointed,,, all because he just, idk, still feels downright boring compared to how the other 3 are written in these kind of fanfics even thought it's 2024 already and not still 2017-2020 (don't even get me started on the weird fixation on making yn extremely specific which fr also makes me crawl away like a wet cat from EW reader interactive content, they don't even put tags of the gender, aaaaaargh).

y'all definitely have more content of him to write than just the saturation of him painting your nails, or going shopping, or acting like he's the center of the world 24/7, or making him the pure lil' angel, or having his memory issues being downplayed as him acting 'so silly lil' silly', i assure you.

When i tell you i got so invested in this useless anger i mean that i got compelled into writing down a bunch of matt x reader to try and give that man a cooler image,,, and i don't even see him that way (nor any of the characters.) , but GOD ARGHHHV I NEED JUSTICE FOR HIM.

i might be just a lil' hot headed while writing this whole stuff, but this bro got stripped out of BOTH his classic and his modern funky personality in 99% of these fanfics and nobody bats an eye, like, ever, unless they're another fan of the character. Free my ginger rat, pleeeeaaaaseee.

I need any weirdo, edgy, funky, unusual, vampire, zombie(heavily on you zombie matt my beloved), slasher, funny, whack matt written content that is not only interactive BUT friendly to all readers...

i don't even care what Matt is written, modern, or classic. Both types have their own weirdo charm, and i am willing to analyze them for a nice oneshot or spitball post.... where you don't get to a restaurant/picnic and receives flowers and it ends like that, without any more depth of such cute cliche fluff it is, and leaving you like you just licked off the scraps of a dessert from a plate given to you, so damn hungry 'n wishing you had eaten an actual dessert instead of whatever that was.

[daphwritesworld]

Another thought because you and ❤️‍🔥 anon really shouldn't have turned this into a team bonding because I CAN'T LET IT GOOO 😂😂

These team bonding nights, everyone knows how it works. Everyone knows what they need to do to get what they want, now let's just imagine that someone has to sit back and watch when they've been so close to getting to participate

Now I'm thinking someone like Alessia, soft and timid. Doesn't argue with people on a day to day, very respectful of authority figures (Leah is cap obviously, Keira is essentially always in charge, there's quite a few older players that are very vocal etc). So I'm thinking she (or whoever else you'd want to pick but I know you like Alessia) misses out by a small margin and just starts acting so bratty, speaking harshly.

These team bondings can only go on so long before someone gets all huffy and wants to do what they want

The team just didn't expect it to be giggly and shy Alessia. They just didn't realise what was hiding beneath the surface for their younger players 👀

Ignore or do with this ramble what you will lmao

-🧠

THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED !!!!!!

imagine the players that did get to participle just getting a little annoyed as she goes on saying stuff like:

“shut up before you tie you down and make you watch up close— with her ruined panties shoved in your mouth!”

“yeah you’ll really be upset then, Russo.”

“I second the vote on shutting her up!”

but it’s Keira who speaks over them, “I think she’s earned a spot girls.” and the room just goes silent and everyone’s staring at her like ‘HUH!?’ because this has never happened before…but it’s also never been someone as shy and happy go lucky as Alessia to get fed the fuck up. she’s finally breaking out of her shell, and Keira appreciates that. She also sees the way R keeps letting her eyes drift over to Less…if her girl wants a piece of Russo? then her girl is getting a piece of Russo. what R wants then at gets, it’s a simple as that really 🤭

or on the flip side and they do tie Alessia up and shove R’s drenched frilly little panties into her mouth as a gag. R giving her these pitiful eyes as she just gets absolutely fucking pounded by the other girls. and they’re just teasing their little fiery striker like:

“Maybe if you work a little harder next season you’ll be the one tasting her cum, right Less?”

“Doesn’t she just look so pretty crying on my cock? Could’ve been you Russo— but thank god i won.”

[lingeronyourhazeleyes]

thanks for your tags on that nowhere boy post! I'm so curious what your thoughts are on the movie. When did you first see it? Are you a John girl? What are your thoughts on Mimi and Julia?

aww thank you for this ask 🥰🥰 (and i'm terribly sorry, i'm gonna leave a wall of text here, cuz I just can't resist the opportunity to yap about my Beatles-related experiences and opinions xd)

first of all, i don't really get why this movie tends to get so much hate (aside from the part where John hits Paui, and i really liked your insight that it was necessary to make the subsequent hugging and crying on each other's shoulders less gay - god i hate you late 2000's), because tbh this is my favourite Beatles biopic. Aaron Taylor-Johnson captures John's whimsical spirit quite well imo and even though Thomas Brodie-Sangster wouldn't have been my first choice for Paul, he's really good at being a charming motherfucker and a lil shit at the same time :D

i think i saw it for the first time in my late teens/early 20s with my mom and her husband, but i didn't pay much attention to the details then (given that i only had a very surface level of Betales-knowledge back then). I rewatched it last November though (in the midst of a full-blown Beatles brainrot).

Am i a John girl? Huh, i guess i'm something that people around here would call a John-coded Paul girlie xd nevertheless I aspire to be a Ringo in the lives of my loved ones

And omg your last question led me very far, but I'll try to be brief (edit: i failed lol) :D so, as i read your notes, i was very surprised that it's considered an anti-Julia and pro-Mimi film (and seeing the points you have raised, now i can totally understand why). For me (even on my first viewing) it was never a Julia vs. Mimi thing. I've read it as a John vs John conflict (and this is the point where i start talking bullshit and/or total banalities. Feel free to correct me or argue with my points :D i always fancy a good argument). I've always seen him as a man with two conflicting sides: one is the whimsical, creative, free but overly emotional (consequently kinda unintegrable (i'm not sure if it's a real word lmao i hope it is :D) into modern western society) side (enabled by Julia), and the other one is the abandoned little boy who only wants to be loved, and is therefore ready (or even needs) to be controlled and steered in "the right direction" by others, hoping that they would not abandon him this way (and this side of him is fed by Mimi in a way in my opinion).

In my reading, both mother figures embodied and enabled one side of John, while actively trying to suppress or outright hurt the other side -- as, I think, John did in his own mind, constantly berating and hurting himself in the process. I thought Julia was so antagonistic (and i guess i was waaay more forgiving of her than i think an average person would be, because unfortunately in many ways her behaviour reminded me of myself), because imo society tends to frown upon overly emotional, somewhat detached and destructive, but free-spirited and creativity-enhancing behaviour, while supporting Mimi's "behave according to unspoken social rules and expectation, don't change the status quo, and suppress your emotions"-mindset, that she represented in the movie and tried to instil in John. (Seeing Mimi handle (and making John handle!!) Uncle George's death with coldness and complete suppression of emotions was just as painful and infuriating for me as the scene where Julia sent John away after all the (sometimes creepily inappropriate) lovebombing.) I have a theory that Paul was so important to John because he not only accepted but straight-up embraced (dare i say served) both sides of him. But probably i just see too much into all this xd

Sorry for the long, messy (and probably borderline meaningless) reply 🫣 i happened to have waaaaaay too many thoughts 😭😭

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave: Part 4

Chapter 3- Emmy gets turned into...a baby?

I wake up in Gale’s arms that morning, feeling his lips gently kissing my ear as the sun begins to rise. It stormed heavily last night but lucky for us, we all slept through it. 

“Good morning, my angel,” Gale murmurs into my ear. I stretch my arms out and turn over to face him while still in his embrace. He chuckles as he places a hand on my cheek. “I take it you slept rather well? It delights me to see you so rested.” 

“I feel…amazing. It feels nice to be back home and curled up in our own bed. I mostly blame the fact we had amazing sex last night and I fell asleep in your warm, cozy arms.” Gale laughs, but can't argue my statement, that's for certain . “How did you sleep?” He nuzzles his face into my hair as I wrap my arm around his torso. 

“Likewise. And it helps that I have you by my side.” I hear a loud giggle coming from the babies’ bedroom, knowing damn well Aelric is ready to be up and ready to play. “Oh that boy of ours. I'll admit, he has your energy and determination.”

“You can say that again. He's like my little clone. Shall we get our children?” 

Both babies also seem to be in a wonderful mood after a night full of storms. After we get the babies dressed and fed, Gale let's Aelric loose so he can practice his walking some more. It isn't long after breakfast we hear a knock at our door, and he squeals from excitement. I hand Jenevelle over to Gale as I open the door, and there stands Therran and Fanden (surprise - he's holding Onyx). 

“Before I can say hello–” Fanden hands Onyx over to me, knowing damn well I didn't even need to finish my sentence. “Yessss.” On that same note, Fanden takes Jenevelle from Gale, and Aelric waddles over to Therran and demands “uppies,” to which Therran got beyond excited about. So what does he do? Pick him up, of course!

“Ahem. Anyway, now that the baby exchange is over with, good morning my wonderful brothers,” I greet them joyfully, cradling the tiny tiefling in my right arm. “What brings you by this morning?”

“We figured we would come by and see our favorite little sister, because why not?” Fanden asks, giving me a smirk. I roll my eyes playfully as I snuggle Onyx closely. 

“If I had another sister, I'd have to fucking fight her for your attention. Thank God I'm the only sister.”  Fanden and Therran both burst out in laughter,  and I can tell they’re trying so hard to refrain from saying anything.  “What?”

“Aw, does our sweet little baby want us to herself? Fanden, you hear that? She doesn't want to share.” I hold my breath, but growl simultaneously trying to fight my next words. Then again, teasing is part of the joy of being their sister..

“How CUTE! Maybe we should convince Mom and Dad to adopt–”

“Shut up, Fanden,” I growl but also fighting a smile. “You know damn well they wouldn't anyway. All three of us are enough for them. And all their grandchildren.” This reminds me, I need to visit with Neeve today so I can get some information out of her. I know she has something she wants to say, but she seems…nervous about confronting Gale or myself about it. My perception, which is rather sharp, allows me to know instinctively that something is going on. I trade babies with Fanden and slip my shoes on so I can head to her home a couple houses down. 

“Is everything alright, love?” Gale asks, standing up from his seat as Therran hands Aelric over to him. Everyone seems puzzled at my sudden anxious antics. 

“I forgot, I need to visit Neeve this morning. Come with me?” 

“Of course! Sorry gentlemen, we will visit later. I'm…not sure what this is about honestly, but I'll keep you in the loop.”

“Also, Fanden, I have wedding plans written down for you and I’d like your input on them when you get the chance!” My brothers smile and follow us out the front door, though they seem slightly concerned. 

“No problem. Just visit with us when you can and we will talk about it,” Fanden says, watching us bolt towards Neeve and Maddox’s house. Gale is trying to keep up with Jenevelle and I as he holds Aelric in his arms, who is laughing like a maniac. When I stop in front of her door, Gale places his free hand on my right shoulder right as I'm about to knock. 

“Love, stop. What is it? Why are you in a rush to see Neeve?” Before I could answer, her door opens and there she stands with Maddox by her side, looking as if they were about to go somewhere themselves. While Maddox seems rather enthusiastic to see us, Neeve still appears to be rather nervous. 

“Mum! Dad! We were just about to come visit you. Perfect timing, come inside.” We follow our daughter inside their house, and sit down at the kitchen table. As Maddox prepares hot tea for us in the kitchen, Neeve sits down with us. “Okay so, there's something I've…we’ve…been meaning to talk to you about.” Ah-hah! I knew it. Good job Emmy, you smart-on-occasion little bard, you. 

“Wait, are you…pregnant?”

“Ha, I wish!” Maddox chimes in, to which Gale immediately shoots him a glare of pure disgust and anger. “Sorry, that was… Ahem…I didn't mean it like that. Neeve, darling?”

“We are moving back to the tower. Maddox and I… We are taking over the tower. Rolan isn't in…great shape right now and he wants to move back with his siblings in Baldur’s Gate. So, Maddox and I are going to move back to Waterdeep! Plus, we will get to see Grandma Morena more!”  I'm not sure what to take of this news; moving further away from us? I know it's only an hour away – roughly – but deep down I feel saddened. 

Gale and I exchange a glimpse of one another, one that reads ‘I’m not exactly sure what to make of this news.’

“Mum? Dad? Say something, please.”

“So, you're just doing this without consulting us?” Gale asks, leaning back in his chair with Aelric on his knee. “We will miss you being so close, you know.” I can tell Gale is a little overwhelmed with this unexpected news, and it pains me to see him this way. Hell, even I feel this way. Why the sudden change, I wonder?

“I know it's your tower, dad, but I figured you would be alright with it.” Gale and I are hesitating on our next words for a brief moment, unsure of how to respond. Hells, I never expected this situation to pop up in our lives, but we've experienced much worse more or less. 

“Will you even visit us? Will you allow us to visit? Sometimes I feel like you just… don't want to be a part of our lives anymore,” I murmur, feeling a sense of heartbreak. I notice Neeve feeling a little overwhelmed, which might trigger her wild magic. Oh God, oh no. 

“I will. You know I will, and you know how much I love you both. Stop with…stop with the nonsense, mum. We want to do this. You can visit whenever you want, and of course we would visit you. Asher is also coming with.” 

The fact she didn't even get our permission to move into the tower is astonishing to me! I thought she knew better. 

“And who gets to decide who moves into my tower, daughter?” Gale’s stern voice throws her off track for a moment, which then leads to the unexpected: Neeve’s body glowing with an unusual power, which causes my own body to glow as well. Maddox quickly takes Jenevelle from my arms as my body begins to morph into something unusual. 

I'm small. My hands are…small. I…where am I? Who am I? What's going on?

“NEEVE TARA DEKARIOS! YOU TURNED YOUR MOTHER INTO A BABY!”