#ive been thinking about this for a while obviously

[cercess]

Beneath New Skies - Chapter IV

Lingering Shadows

𖤓 Tags: sweet sweet angst 𖤓 Rating: General 𖤓 Word Count: 2.2k 𖤓 Notes: the angst begins babey!! I'm so excited about the next couple chapters. They may take a little bit because I intend to work on a few requests. If that interests you at all, or if you want to request something yourself, feel free to send me an ask! As always, I hope you enjoy the chapter. 𖤓 Previous Chapter 𖤓 Read on AO3

In the previous chapter, the city was attacked by Nikador's Titankin. The reader tried to escape the city with their father, and the orphan Serena, but were stopped by a large monster. In hopes of saving their companions, the reader attempted to distract the Titankin and were injured as a result. Just as they thought they were done for, Phainon and the Outlander (Stelle and Dan Heng) arrived and swiftly dealt with the attacker.

What were you thinking had become your father’s most said words over the course of the past couple hours. When he asked you for the first time upon catching up with the other citizens, you answered honestly: “I don’t know, I just had to protect you and Serena.” After the third time he uttered the phrase, you assumed it was more of an exclamation than an actual question. 

“What if you had been seriously injured?” He asked as he pressed a poultice of poppy to your freshly-stitched wound. “Or worse,” his voice cracked in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. 

His unfamiliar vulnerability made your heart ache. Your endless justifications died somewhere between your brain and your mouth when he took your hand. “Don’t you ever do that again. It’s my job to protect you.”

You squeezed his hand, not knowing what to say. His concerns were justified; even you questioned your actions. If Phainon hadn’t shown up, you’d be dead. That harsh truth weighed heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry father. I won’t do something like that again.” 

He stared at your intertwined hand for a long while, obviously contemplating what to say next. Your father had never been a man of many words, instead allowing his actions to define his character. It was why he was so respected in Okhema; a dedicated physician and apothecary who never let his patients down. 

“I love you, Father,” you decided to close the gap for him.

“I love you too. More than you could ever know.” He patted your hand before reaching for the bandages. “You need to keep this clean and dry for the time being. If you notice inflammation, tell me immediately.”

“I know how to treat a wound. I learned from the best.” 

Your father cleared his throat awkwardly as he began dressing your injury. “So… that Chrysos Heir?”

“Phainon?” There was no hiding your relationship any longer. Part of you was relieved to finally have everything out in the open; you were used to being honest with your father. The other part braced for his disapproval. 

“He seems to care for you a great deal.”

“He’s very kind.” 

“What I saw was more than kindness,” your father wound the bandage tightly around your arm. “He cares for you. Deeply.” 

You smile absentmindedly, “you think so?” 

“I know so. And you care for him just as much.” He sighed as he tied off the dressing, “I do worry about you getting involved with the Chrysos Heirs.” 

Your heart cracked in your chest slightly, “why? Phainon’s never endangered me.” 

Your father shook his head, clearly considering his words carefully. “I worry that he’s influenced you to endanger yourself. What you did today was reckless. You don’t need to be a hero, you just need to survive.” 

Thinking back on the situation, your father had a point. As you stood there, facing down an impossible enemy, all you could think of was making those you loved proud: saving the day, even if it cost you your life. On the other hand, the situation had been so devoid of hope, that doing noting would have probably resulted in your death anyway. Nikador’s Titankin were not known for their mercy, and the one you encountered certainly seemed unwilling to let you pass. Of course, you only survived because Phainon and the Outlanders showed up just in the nick of time. Your actions ultimately served no purpose other than getting you hurt. That stung more than any blade. 

“The Chrysos Heirs,” he continued, “are not like us. They’re born with a greater purpose, which they have the skills to pursue. Your Phainon seems capable of fulfilling his destiny, and that is what worries me.” 

“You don’t want him to succeed?” 

“Do you know of Lady Aglaea?” Of course you did, everyone knew Lady Aglaea. She had helped protect the city during the Titankin attack! She was Phainon’s mentor, and he had nothing but good things to say about her. “I do,” you responded warily. 

“There are rumours that the demigod has lost her humanity as a result of inheriting the Titan’s powers. Some say her ability to love no longer exists. If Phainon ascends just as she did, there’s no telling if he would even be capable of holding affection for you.” 

You had always worried about the differences in your blood. It was an anxiety that had started somewhere deep in your heart, and slowly spread its thorns throughout your veins. Your father's words not only made briers creep further through your body, but caused them to rot and fester. What made matters worse was that your fears were mostly unfounded. Phainon had been nothing but good to you, yet your doubts lingered. In a way, you felt unworthy of him; like there were others that could truly appreciate him without reservation. You wanted to, so badly that it ached within you constantly, but the possibility of being cast aside terrified you. 

Noticing your silence, your father placed a hand on your back, “have you spoken to him about these things?” 

“No,” you admitted sheepishly. “But I’ve wanted to.” 

“Then you should. If things are truly meant to be between the two of you, then it will all work out.”

“That’s a very romantic sentiment coming from you.” 

“Matters of the heart don’t come naturally to me,” he darted his eyes to the floor, almost shamefully. “But I know well that when something is right, you can overcome the obstacles.” 

“Was it like that with mother?” The two of you never discussed her. You knew she came from a high-class family, and that your father’s seat on the citizen’s assembly was inherited from her, but nothing more about who she was as a person. 

“Your mother and I came from different worlds. She was a member of high society, and I was nothing more than a herb picker. It wasn’t until I met her that I realized I could be more than what my birth dictated.” He smiled wistfully into the distance, an expression you had never seen on your father’s face. Sure, he smiled from time to time, but that look of unequivocal devotion had never once crossed his features. “Her father didn’t approve of me, even after I became an apprentice apothecary. But your mother was stubborn. She refused to let her family keep us apart. In some ways, I see myself in you. I know how it feels to be cast out because of your station, and I don’t ever want you to have to endure that.”

His reservations about Phainon suddenly made a lot more sense. “What did she think?”

“She told me that I was a fool for listening to her father. The opinions of others never meant much to her, so she never understood why that rejection hurt me so.” He suddenly knelt before you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Don’t you ever let those Chrysos Heirs tell you that you’re lesser.” You gently squeezed his hand, “why would they say such a thing?”

“There are rumours spreading amongst the Council of Elders, that Lady Aglaea has turned into an unfeeling tyrant that prioritizes this Flame Chase Journey over the rest of us.” Acting as both an apothecary and physician meant your father heard almost everything going on in Okhema. People trusted him, and as such they tended to let things slip. Usually he paid no mind to idle gossip, especially when it came to politics.

“You’ve always said the Council are a bunch of stuck-up elitists themselves. Why would you believe that?” 

“I don’t know if I believe it, I just want you to be careful. He clearly makes you happy, but Phainon may one day have no choice but to move on. His path in life is both a privilege, and a burden.”

A knocking sound pulled your attentions away from the conversation. Standing in the open doorway was Phainon, his hand still raised from rapping on the wood. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, I tried knocking on the store’s door, but you didn’t hear me.”

Your father snapped back into his professional demeanour, “is there something we can do for you?” 

“I came to speak to your child.” 

“I’ll give the two of you some space. It’s about time I got started on dinner. Will you be staying?” 

The invitation seemed to catch Phainon off guard. He stuttered slightly before giving his answer, “I need to head home after I’m done here.”

The older man nodded before leaving the room. You fiddled with the edge of the bandage awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. After your conversation with your father, there were about a million things you wanted to say, none of which you knew how to properly verbalize. You wondered just how much of your discussion he overheard. 

“You scared me,” Phainon broke the silence as he slipped into the chair next to you. He took your hand in his, tracing the outline of your knuckles with his thumb. 

You stared at your intertwined hands. “Thank you for saving me.”

Shivers were sent coursing through your body when he gently grabbed your chin, and titled your face upward so that you met his eyes. “You never have to thank me for that.” 

Seeing his face made something within you crumble. Tears stung your eyes as you threw yourself into his arms. He pulled you close, holding you like you were the most precious treasure in the world. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” He whispered against the top of your head.

“You don’t need to apologize.” You buried your face in his chest. 

“You’re hurt,” a deep sadness lingered in the cadence of his voice, like an out of tune instrument. 

This discordant melody lured you from the comfort of his body. You looked up to find him already staring down at you, sorrow staining his brilliant eyes. 

“I’ll be alright, Phainon. I’m more worried about you.”

He traced his thumb over your bottom lip, “why would you be worried about me?” “Your fight with Nikador. How did it go?”

His sigh was heavy, an omen of the bad news to come. “I thought we killed them, but it seems Nikador has divided their divinity.” 

“There are multiple Nikadors?” The image of the weapons laying at the Titankin’s feet flashed in your mind. If another attack were to be launched on the city in its weakened state, there was no telling the destruction that would be left behind.

“Don’t worry,” he grasped you tighter, “I’m headed to Castrum Kremnos with the Outlanders and Mydei tomorrow. We’ll finally put an end to Nikador’s madness.” 

Ending Nikador’s madness… after all the chaos the mad titan had wrought, it was about time they be put to rest. But another concern took priority in your mind: their Coreflame. Phainon had spoken of it before, how he would end Nikador’s reign of terror and claim their power for himself. Your father’s words replayed in your mind, if Phainon ascends, there’s no telling if he would even be capable of holding affection for you.

The rot flared in your veins as you struggled to be happy at the opportunity. What if he were killed in the attempt? What if he did succeed, and you became a footnote in the divine book of his life. That ugly, gnarled fear made your heart race in your chest. 

Killing Nikador, and rising triumphantly as Okhema’s new divine hero, was all that Phainon had ever wanted. He had never told you much about his past, but whenever he spoke of his mission, it seemed like a shadowy figure spurred him forward. That drive ignited something in him, something tempestuous and forlorn. There was more to his heroic desires than virtue, and you feared that the Coreflame of strife would only amplify the darkness within. How could a demigod born of Nikador feel anything but a desire for bloodshed? 

Of course, there was also the possibility of Nikador killing him, which was an even worse outcome. You wanted to believe that even if he inherited the Coreflame, Phainon’s good would still somehow shine through. How could it not? But death was a finality. You closed your eyes and saw the procession as clear as day; his lifeless body being paraded through the streets as the people placed flower around him, until he lay in a bed of flora. Okhema’s hope would be snuffed out alongside him, and the sun’s rays would no longer bring warmth and comfort. Instead, they would serve as a mournful reminder of the world’s last true hero.

The rot spread until it reached your tongue, forcing out selfish words. “Don’t go… please Phainon. I can’t lose you.”

You expected him to pull back in disgust. Instead, he held you closer. “I’ll be alright. It’s just like I always say: I’ll come back to you.” 

If you do come back, will you still care for me? “Do you promise?” Now wasn’t the time. He didn’t need another weight added to his overburdened shoulders. You resigned yourself to the pulsating miasma within. If he returned and ascended, then you would tell him your fears, and accept your place, whatever it may be. If he died, you would harden your heart, and mourn bitterly for the rest of your days. Better to keep the ugly inside than infest him too. 

“I promise, nothing will keep me from returning to you.” 

You let him hold you close until circumstance ripped you apart, as it always did. 

[stellargh0ul]

Hey! This is my first tumblr request ^^I’m not sure if you write platonic fics so feel free to ignore this! I’ve been scavenging the web for platonic fics for years 🥀

But could you maybe write something where there’s a young sibling of sin who can’t sleep due to anxiety and frater comforts them? It can be gender neutral too. I find it hard to sleep at night and copia is such a comfort character to me and I would be totally read it with a face like this “😸”

Okay I’m sort of rambling now but that’s basically it :P

Tysm^^

I do platonic a lot actually! I'd say it's about 50/50ish, but i'm always happy to do them. I went with a child, since you said young and i'm a sucker for a man who's good with kids.

-

he isn’t expecting the movement outside his office door in the middle of the night to be a child.

Copia looks up from his desk and peers at the door, squinting as though he’d seen wrong. a curious face again peers around the corner, poking into the room to catch a peek at what he’s doing.

when it sees Frater Imperator looking back at them, the child freezes in place. they stare at each other for several long seconds, locked in a stalemate, before he sighs and goes to get up from behind his desk.

the movement seems to break the spell and the child goes running, little bare feet smacking against the marble-tiled floor. but Copia can be quick when he wants to be and he’s at the door mere moments later, calling for the child to stop.

luckily for him- his quickness does not extend to running more than a few feet- the child listens to him. they’re wearing a set of black pajamas, the kinds the novice siblings of sin are given to sleep in, and while he doesn’t recognize their face from around the Ministry, that means little. there were always children in need of a home arriving.

“i’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be out of bed,” the child says, their eyes fixed on the hem of Copia’s robes as he walks up beside them. “I was… I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. but I got lost…”

“come then,” Frater Imperator says, holding his hand out to the child. he doesn’t think they look older than eight. “I’ll take you back to bed.”

the little hand is small in his as they go. Copia doesn’t say much- he doesn’t know this child and doesn’t know what would be comforting to them, but from the way they’re clinging on to his hand, they must have been wandering lost for a while. long enough that they’d been frightened.

“how are you liking the ministry so far?” he asks as they walk and the little child starts before they glance up at him.

“everyone is very nice to me. and the other kids have been nice too.”

“good, good. I am glad to hear this. if you ever have a problem with them, tell them that Frater Imperator will come and set them straight again.”

the child nods emphatically.

“you’re Frater Imperator?”

“I am.”

he has, for a moment, the same sort of feeling he got seeing children when he was Papa Emeritus IV- this child obviously looks up to him.

“…can I ask you a question, Frater?”

“of course.”

quiet, for a long moment. they’re nearly at the children’s dorms so he slows his steps to allow this child time to think.

“…do you ever worry about stuff?”

“do I ever worry about what kind of stuff…?”

“…just, I don’t know. stuff. like, everything.”

he purses his lips, looking down at his small companion.

“…I worry about a lot of things. there is a lot to do to keep the Ministry running. but you, my friend, you are a child. you should not have so many worries that they keep you awake at night.”

the child cringes and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head.

“…I can’t help it.”

“alright. how about this- in exchange for walking you back to the dorms, you do something for me.”

“what do you want me to do?”

he kneels so that they’re face to face, bringing their hands together tightly.

“tell the sister in the morning about your anxieties, alright? perhaps she can help you. perhaps we can figure out something so that a child like you doesn’t have to wander around at night worrying.”

“…okay, Frater.”

“good. this is where we’ll say good night now, alright, dear?”

he gestures towards where the children’s wing starts and the child lights up, nodding emphatically.

“thank you!”

“it was no trouble. if you do find yourself wandering at night again, you are always welcome in my office. I am usually awake.”

he watches the child head back into the halls of the dorms for a moment longer before turning to head back to his office. his own worries are still pressing.

[nicki0kaye]

Route 2;)

This one went on WAY longer and a LOT happened so I'm gonna be summarizing way more and focusing more on the plot points.

Unit 4522 is respectful and eager to please the Spectres, especially Zeb, who they have a Huge crush on. Unfortunately, once they begin actualizing into A Real Person and that Person is nothing like the sardonic, confident bitch Kallus was, Zeb dumps babysitting duties on Rex, mostly out of fear that Zeb's interest in Kallus will force this new innocent being Just Figuring Themselves Out to try and squeeze themselves into a Kallus mold to make him happy. ESPECIALLY when he finds out that 452' is actively researching Kallus and found his decades old Space-Myspace page.

Rex and Unit 4522 immediately imprint on one another--the former an old hat at helping someone who looks full grown but is only Just Now learning autonomy adjust; the latter desperate for direction and comfort. 452' says they really like the name Kallus used to call himself (Sasha), but it isn't theirs to use. Rex suggests the name Ma'reycye, or Mareysha, meaning 'a discovery, something valuable you’ve been looking for a long time. A treasure'

452' thinks that might actually be too pretty of a name, but is quickly going by Reysha.

The new name and an ever increasingly solid personality makes Zeb comfy enough to start being around Reysha more, quickly becoming their other older brother figure. Super cute, everything is fine, Reysha's starting to get really close to Deacon, the Medtech in charge of rolling back restrictions and ensuring Reysha remains stable. Found family vibes all around.

obviously this is too much stability for my tastes, so next comes the curve-ball that is the 'defensive sub-routine'.

while out scouting around Yavin IV, Reysha is attacked by hostile wild life, triggering the sub-routine. Their conscious awareness basically goes offline while the sub-routine is running, leaving them to parse what happened by reviewing their internal logs.

Within that missing time chunk, all of their internal records change to Old Tongue--Kallus' first language--and begin to unravel into the extremely untidy thinking of a human who initially mistakes the trees for pillars and ultimately crashes as they realize that's the fucking sky above them.

They immediately return to base for Deacon to run some tests, where they all learn to their horror that the sub-routine is a fraction of Kallus' lived experience accidentally pruned and preserved in order to give the Unit combat abilities should its owners want it. With the restrictions already in place, the programmers had no idea this splinter would quickly stabilize into the facimaly of Kallus pre-Empire. Back when he was a gang-lord's son going by Sasha.

And Sasha fuuuuuucking haaaates thissssssss

Wakes up in the future to realize a) the future Sucks and b) he's forced to share a body with what he assumes is a droid. Worse; everyone likes the droid way more than him.

It's a Hot Minute before he's told outright that Reysha is not a droid or an AI or anything like that, and they are, in fact, his biggest advocate. They are protective of him.

The relationship--really anyone's relationship with Sasha--is super rocky, but slowly Sasha begins adjusting.

Zeb getting captured helped in its own way, too. Mareysha is not field ready and neither is Sasha, but together, they're about as deadly as Kallus has ever been. It's fucking Jeiger time, baby, and Deacon is scared for them. Thankfully Zeb is brought back safely and Hoth has like. Infinite Bacta to expend on his recovery, so everything can go back to normal, right?

Wrong. Mareysha is pissed. They are not normally pissed, it's more like them to worry and focus on problem solving, but Zeb? Being hurt? Unacceptable. And there is no one to take it out on but Zeb, and apparently they want to take it out on him physically too, threatening him with a duel.

Of course, once they leave that conversation, they realize all of that kark is from Kallus, not them.

Which, cool, great, Kallus, if you are in here, you aren't allowed to use them as a proxy, fucking actualize like a normal person instead of leaking all you maladaptive bullshit onto their side of the shared headspace.

This does not happen, at least not on base.

When it does happen, it's on what everyone thought was a milk-run one system over, and it's because Kallus can literally clock an ISB honeypot in his sleep--or in this case as a fractured dormant personality.

Not exactly wanting to be 'out', Kallus tries to pass himself off as Reysha, but Zeb sees right through that bantha shit. He doesn't out Kallus in front of the crew of greenhorns he's been sent to look after, but oh, when he gets Kallus alone, they are having Words.

Despite knowing since Sasha popping up that there was a possibility Kallus was still in there, somewhere, Zeb hasn't allowed himself to hope. And now that they're here, he's levelling all that grief and frustration onto Kallus. He is PISSED, because Ezra TRIED TO GET KALLUS OUT and KALLUS DID NOT TAKE THE OUT. And now they don't even know if he'll stay around or if it's 'more stable for everyone' for him to be reabsorbed into Reysha and Sasha. AND YES. HE DOES BLAME YOU FOR ALL OF THIS.

Kallus matches energy because uh FUCK YOU, he didn't get lobotorobotized on fucking purpose, you jackass, and is not in any way prepared for Zeb to grab him by the face and tug him close and whisper fervent insults in Lasana at him;

"You [miserable pond-scum, you wretch, you heartbreaker.]" Their anger goes sideways as Zeb takes hold of their face and starts slipping into anguished Lasana. They blink at him, one hand locked around the Lasat's wrist as reality rearranges itself for what feels like the third time today. Maybe--fuckit, say it. Now or never. "Stop complaining and kiss me while I'm still me."

Zeb says he can't bc the stupid headpiece is in the way. Kallus, not understanding that Lasat kisses involve scenting their lover's cheek, takes it upon himself to grab the back of his head and close the distance.

They don't get to honeymoon long; there's still like four other ppl on this ship and none of them need to know about this giant messy situationship rival thing they have going. Also the Empire will be tracking them since they stepped foot into the Honeypot and they need somewhere to lie low.

will add a part two bc there's still a lot that happens and this is already super long lol

have I posted Lobot!Kallus? I keep meaning to I genuinely can't remember

vacant, only speaks when spoken to, has to be guided by hand bc his spacial awareness has been intentionally fucked with, is either In There behind all the programming, unable to jailbreak himself without permission which no one has thought to give him OR has been fractured so severely, his identity may as well be gone or only exists as a subroutine that only triggers under certain circumstances and is so buried by restrictions it's unrecognizable.

just things I do to my favorite characters uwu

[cosmic--static]

i do find it funny whenever people portray Jayce in modern college aus (or anytime) as the popular athlete who's top of his class. leave him alone. let my man be a weird antisocial freak

[missescalientee]

The past JD ex's who got back together with him club. I feel like they'd have a lot to talk about

Freesia is @zivazivc

[black-and-yellow]

Do Hizashi and Nemuri ever show Shouta their cave? What does the cave look like, I'm so curious now

After weeks of peer pressure, he finally gives in and invests in a wetsuit and diving gear.

The mouth of their cave is fully underwater and is the only entrance. It has an area inside just about big enough to swim a few laps in, but if you go through a gap at the back and go upwards, you come to this air pocket that has some rocky ground. This is where Nem and Hizashi store their treasures, and where Nemuri sleeps a lot of the time (underwater, she has to keep moving to be able to pushing water over her gills, but on land she can use her secondary, human-type lungs to breathe, so she can relax).

Hizashi is like a kid showing his friend his room when Aizawa visits. He's very houseproud. It was his place initially, and Nemuri moved in when they got together. They've put a lot of work into making it homely. There's lots of decorations and stalactites and stalagmites inside and little shiny things that glint in the light that comes in through the tiny opening at the top that lets the air through.

There's another little shallow pool of water at the back of the cave where they can curl up and sleep without drying out.

[undomesticated-animal]

Some tags from @hyenaboycunt, @darethebrave, and @seimsisk that really cut to the quick of what I was trying to do here.

Tag Set #1

#absolutely love this piece#it took a moment for me to properly catch on since i dont think ive encountered written spanglish before#relevant linguistic background for me:#monolingual english speaker‚ 3 years of latin in HS‚ & familiar with pronunciation rules for spanish#plus a few friends/acquaintances who've spoken spanglish around me (but they're not consistently part of my life)#so i did the monolingual thing and focused on the obviously english paragraphs first#but once i grokked what i was looking at i started over#when reading English i dont really have an internal voice. i usually know the words and what they mean#(i sometimes completely miss out on written puns because of this‚ funny enough)#anyway. i started over. and i know the pronunciation rules but i dont have much experience reading spanish.#so i had to sound out a lot of it (internally) while i was reading.#and i was surprised by how much i understood when i could “hear” the words#even if i absolutely couldn't translate them.#and i did have to look to the english paragraphs for help of course‚ but less often than i expected#it's funny too that i was reminded of two people in my life who i hear speak like this. one is a friend's mother and i can HEAR the way#the way she says “mijo” to her son (my friend)#the other is a family friend I haven't thought of in YEARS but this writing has me hearing her voice and seeing her mannerisms so clearly.#I'm enamored with how actually thinking about the *sounds* both 1) made this exponentially more comprehensible to me#and 2) brought to mind the voices of family friends speaking to their children#it feels so very much like *home*#not my specific home. but it's something I've personally only heard spoken in places that *feel* like home.#really wonderful writing here Domi.#there's more thoughts churning but ironically words fail me. and tragically i dont have any other languages i can try

Tag Set #2

#i haven’t used my three years of high school spanish in quite a while#but what a linguistically fun reading challenge!#also a very good poem OP thank you for sharing#it was neat to catch the little differences between the paragraphs#art#poetry

Tag Set #3

#this sentence applies to all languages I think#everyone go read op's tags please#I do not speak Spanish but I can read it more of less fluently because I'm Brazilian and it just works like that#reading the spanglish versions felt so good#and I related to so much of it even if my circumstances are completely different#I have been through the experience of trying to date in English and it was such a mess#how to explain to a gringo the meaning of carinho? carente?

I had a really public meltdown a few months back because something happened during a date that made me realize I had slowly let my entire love life happen in English. And while I didn't [and still don't] feel like the answer is to demand that my partners learn Spanish in order to talk with me, I did realize that part of why I felt so thoroughly alienated from affection in my relationships is because it is in Spanish and Spanglish that I feel verbal care and affection. English feels....sterile and professional. Which is maybe a reasonable outcome of a world where "home" welcomes my polyglot behavior and "the rest of the world" gets irritated with me for requiring extra work of them to communicate.

It somehow never seems to occur to people that the work they dislike having to do for me will have to get done regardless, and what they are objecting to is literally my attempt to not carry and perform all of that work alone and unsupported in relationships that are meaningful to me.

That's a dynamic that's hard to vocalize to others unless they already internally recognize the experience and can pick up on it.

My partners still don't speak Spanish. But these days I do. Almost universally in my relationships, Spanish and Spanglish are verbalized markers of my feelings of intimacy, care, and trust in another. I use more over time as I become comfortable, I rely almost exclusively on common MexíCalí pet names and diminutives for partners, and the more relaxed/less rigidly self-managed I am, the more likely I am to simply reach for Spanglish first and foremost.

When I wrote this, I wrote the English paragraphs first. It took a little while, but it was doable because I use English A LOT in my professional and personal life obviously. Next I wrote the Spanish. This was harder. I have few people to keep up with, so I was anxious about mixing up my spelling, my grammar, my vowel modifiers, etc. I did a lot more checking and rechecking of my work to ensure that I was not misremembering my conjugations and grammatical structures.

I wrote the Spanglish last. I wrote it in under five minutes. I wrote it without once feeling the need to confirm my grammar or vocab. I wrote it and immediately felt it conveyed my tone and intention far better than either monolingual version. It was the closest thing I've ever felt to not having to "translate" my thoughts for someone else, and I spent a little time after just quietly having a cry about reaching my 30s before ever letting myself write the way I think, before letting myself trust my partners and loved ones with this part of me that is so integral to how it feels to be at home with another person.

I actually considered recording myself speaking the poem aloud because I agree with @hyenaboycunt that the way I write is meant to be read aloud, not read in one's mind, and there were several times reading it to myself that I realized reading it would lose something too. Several words where my accent and pronunciation was not the same as the language of the word itself, or where the blending went further than simply mixing and matching words within a sentence. I still might take a recording, we'll see. I really do think it's the next logical place for this art piece to go. But I also know that speaking is so raw and vulnerable to me, and while I would typically just have someone else do the recording, this is a circumstance where that wouldn't solve the issue at all. It has to be me. And ironically, that's what may end up limiting me from being able to do it. Yet again, my relationship with language being complicated creates barriers to communication that even *I* can barely recognize without real intentional thought. How can I expect others to see how much I do to be understood when I can barely admit it to myself?

En íngles, y otra vez in Spanish

No sé to describe mi relationship con mi lingua. Complicado, I suppose. No sé qué the words that will come en mi mente primary, y sometimes es difícil traducir between las idiomas. Creo que most people figure translation ser word-for-word, pero no es menos un pequeño here and there. Sometimes I look for las palabras exactamente por way too long y sientame abrumado. People act like eres estúpido if words are hard for you. Y adorame cual ser talking down a mi en bed, pero tiempo otros I get so angry when people decide no es importante para mi tiene tiempo enough communicarse. I don’t know how to describe my relationship with language. Complicated, I suppose. I never know which words will come to me first, and sometimes it’s hard to translate between languages. I think people expect translation to be word by word, but it so rarely is. Sometimes I search for the correct replacement word for way too long and it makes me feel so overwhelmed. People treat you like you’re stupid if you struggle with your words. And I like to be talked down to in bed, but the rest of the time it makes me so angry when people decide it’s not important for me to have the time to communicate properly. No sé cómo expressar mi social relación con la idioma. Quizás complicado. Nunca sé qué palabras vendrán primero a mi mente y, a veces, es difícil traducir entre los languajes. Creo que la mayoria de la gente se figurarán que la traducción sea palabra por palabra, pero raramente está. A veces trato de encontrar la palabra exacta durante demasiado tiempo y me poniendo abrumado. La gente actúa como si fueras estúpido si las palabras están costarían. Y adoro que me traten con condescendencia en la cama, pero si no me airado mucho cuando la gente decide que no es importante para mí tener tiempo para comunicarme. I wonder often how it feels hablar o necesitar solamente una idioma, y inglés at that. ¿Reconocéis how much nuestro uso de language changes how nos entendemos y our place aquí en es? I often wonder how it feels to only use or need one language, and English at that. Do people realize how much our language changes how we understand the world, our place in it? Me pregunto con frecuencia qué se siente hablar o necesitar solo una idioma, y ​ lo que es más, inglés. ¿Reconocéis todos de lo mucho que la idioma cambia nuestra comprensión del otros y nuestras relaciones sociales? La idioma es all about relationships. La forma de la palabra implies más y mucho about la context sociales en el que it’s spoken. Crecí con myriad trozos de significado in each sentence spoken. English feels desolado en momentos. ¿Cómo se dice mijita como en una chica que es carnal para mi con el tono solamente? En inglés, estan mucho emphasis en the meaning of body language and I imagine los otros rarely notice this. Maybe por eso I have such a bad time entender mi role para las vidas de mis quieridos. Menos Mamá, lo no tengo con que hablar Spanish. Pero maybe menos los diminutivos y verbalizacion de relationships sociales en nuestro day to day conversacion, no créo sé how to fill la falta. Quizás part of el problema conmigo y my understanding of non-verbal communicación, and I figure it out claro que si, pero I forget how often no es necesito hacer que.

Spanish is all about relationships. The shape of a word implies so much about the social context in which the word is being used to communicate. I grew up with so many layers of meaning in every sentence spoken. English feels almost desolate sometimes. How do you convey that you are calling someone baby girl with the love you have for family with only tone? There is so much weight put on non-verbal communication in English that I think people rarely notice. Maybe that’s why I have so much trouble understanding my role in the lives of my loved ones. Aside from my mother, no one I love speaks Spanish well enough to use it with me. But maybe without those little suffixes and verbalization of social relationships in our day to day conversation, I don’t know how to fill in the gaps left behind. Maybe some of the conflict in how others speak and how I hear their words is the absence. I’ve never been good at reading body language, and I surely figure it out in Spanish too, but I forget sometimes how many little spaces it isn’t necessary in my mother tongue. La idioma del espanol es una cuestión de relaciones. La forma de una palabra expresarse mucho del contexto social en el que se habla la palabra. Crecí con tantas trozos de significado en cada oraciónes hablado. La idioma del inglés es desolado por momentos. ¿Cómo se dice mijita como en una chica que es carnal para mi con el tono solamente? En inglés se pone mucho énfasis en el significado que expresa el cuerpo y imagino que los otros ven es raremente. Quizás por eso me resulta difícil comprender mi ubicación social en las vidas de mis queridos. Menos mi madre, nul de mis quieridos habla español con sultura para usarlo conmigo. Pero sin esos diminutivos y la charla sobre relaciones sociales en nuestras expresiones, no sé cómo llenar la falta. quizás un componente del problemo en cómo entiendo a los demás es la falta de contexto. Soy malo para interpretar el expressiones corporal, y también lo entiendo en español, claro que si, pero olvido que con frecuencia no es necesario en mi lengua materna. Me pregunta how it is por la gente del otra cara. ¿How is it to see how much más acepción there is anytime una palabra cambia en español? ¿What do you notice changing when leé lo que está escrito aquí? I wonder what that is like for people on the other side of the coin. How does it feel to realize how many componants of a single word can be changed in Spanish to convey meaning? What do you see change when you try to navigate my language? What was it like to read this post? Me pregunto cómo será eso para la gente del otro cara. ¿Cómo es ver los muchos pequeños cambios en una palabra que tienen significado? ¿Qué ves cuando intentas interpretar mi idioma? ¿Cómo fue leer lo esto obra? Some say a mi está buenísima that I lapse en el español during sex. Some react poorly when I cambio en medio idiomas. Otros no tienen any reaction at all. No creó sé what I want people entender para mi behavior. Yo sé quiero to be loved en mi context. I know this makes la spoken idioma un dificíl way para mi aceptar love. I wonder how entendeís conmigo. Sometimes people tell me it’s hot that I lapse into Spanish during sex. Sometimes people react with visible discomfort whenever I move between languages. Others don’t have any reaction at all. I don’t know how to convey to someone what meaning I want them to take from this behavior. I know that I want to be loved in my own context. I know that I cannot be loved in a context others lack. I know this makes language a difficult form of love for me to accept. I wonder how others would come to understand that about me.

Algunas personas me dicen que está buenísima que hablo español cuando folo. Algunos reaccionan en contra de con desasosiego cuando cambio en medio idiomas. Otros no tienen ninguna reacción. No sé cómo decir qué espero que interpreten de esta acción. Quiero ser quierido en mi propio contexto. Sé que no puedo ser quierido en un contexto de lo cual otros es falta. Es difícil para mí aceptar la idioma hablado como una forma de cariño porque que esto verdad. Me pregunto cómo los otros entienden eso de mí.

[itsdefinitely]

hey. do you think tinky's birthday is groundhog day

[trappedinafantasy37]

OC TAG MEME

Tagged by @arach-tinilith

-> BASICS

Name: Daedra Do'Taur

Class/Subclass: Gloomstalker/Assassin/Death Cleric of Lolth

Background: The Haunted One

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual but has a preference for fems

Pronouns: She/Her

-> OTHER

Family: She had a family when she was a young child, but she murdered them (not her fault though). Since then, she has not particularly cared for family.

Birthplace: Menzoberranzan - The Duthcloim

Job: Assassin/Mercenary -> Priestess of Lolth -> High Priestess to the Temple of Bhaal -> Assassin/Mercenary (it's a full circle)

Phobias: Claustrophobia, Abandonment

Guilty Pleasures: The occasional murder, hoarding gems and gold, sweets

Hobbies: Hunting, Tanning, Leatherwork, Wood Carving

-> MORALS

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Sins: Sloth, Murder

Virtues: Loyal, Protective, Supportive, will kill for you

-> THIS OR THAT

Introverted/Ambivert/Extrovert

Organized/Disorganized

Close-minded/Open-minded

Calm/Anxious/Restless

Disagreeable/In-Between/Agreeable Oppositionally defiant

Patient/In-Between/Impatient

Outspoken/In-Between/Reserved

Leader/Follower/Flexible

Empathetic/In-between/Apathetic

Optimist/Realist/Pessimist

Traditional/In-Between/Modern

Hard-working/Lazy

-> RELATIONSHIPS

OTP: Daedra/Minthara

Acceptable Ships: Daedra/Shadowheart, Daedra/Karlach, Daedra/Wyll

OT3: Daedra/Minthara/Shadowheart (pls Minthara? Just once?)

BroTP: Daedra/Lae'zel, Daedra/Halsin

NoTP: Daedra/Astarion, Daedra/Gale

-> BASICS

Name: Aidan (haven't figured out the last name yet)

Class/Subclass: Paladin - Oath of Devotion

Background: Outlander

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bicurious

Pronouns: He/Him

-> OTHER

Family: Raised by a single father and is an only child. His mother passed away during child birth.

Birthplace: Amn

Job: Farmer -> City Guard

Phobias: The Ocean, Heights

Guilty Pleasures: Sweets, Shopping (generally for other people though)

Hobbies: Fishing, Hiking

-> MORALS

Alignment: Lawful Good

Sins: ????? idk, he's a good boi

Virtues: Loyal, Protective

-> THIS OR THAT

Introverted/Ambivert/Extrovert

Organized/Disorganized

Close-minded/Open-minded

Calm/Anxious/Restless

Disagreeable/In-Between/Agreeable

Patient/In-Between/Impatient

Outspoken/In-Between/Reserved

Leader/Follower/Flexible

Empathetic/In-between/Apathetic

Optimist/Realist/Pessimist

Traditional/In-Between/Modern

Hard-working/Lazy

-> RELATIONSHIPS

OTP: Aidan/Shadowheart

Acceptable Ships: Aidan/Minthara, Aidan/Lae'zel

OT3: Aidan/Shadowheart/Minthara (Yes, all my OC's need to be absolutely railed by both Shadowheart and Minthara at the same time)

BroTP: Aidan/Wyll, Aidan/Karlach, Aidan/Halsin

NoTP: Aidan/Astarion

Tagging @w-low, @majorasnightmare, @lutethebodies (I rolled a 5!). Anyone who sees this is also free to do it if they wish!

[fox-trot7]

Them <3

From “Discord and the Ponyville Players’ Dramarama”

Honestly rlly like the discord book like it’s sweet

“It will always be enough.” 🥺

[dungeon-master-mike]

ima be honest bylr doesn't really hit for me anymore

[isa-ah]

met a really cool queer stranger today that i thought was just so fucking neat i wanted to talk but if we were playing tennis they were, with the most gentle and earnest voice ive ever heard, shoving the tennis racket down my throat. every compliment or joke i made was turned away but in the sweetest way possible that made me sound like an absolute asshole lunatic. it was so scary.

[indigodawns]

hello <3 does anyone have any last-minute tips for idk . enjoying a (taemin!!!!!!!) concert when you have autism + adhd? HSJSJSJS

[gay--dog]

and really who is this benefiting. sure all the millionaires are slightly better off cause they can get healthcare and shit but theyre all clearly miserable too. we're all suffering so that someone else can suffer in a gold plated mansion. it wouldnt even be worth it if they were happy but how can they even justify it when theyre not. theyre the reason everyone is suffering and theyre not even better off for it. theyre so convinced of an imagined hierarchy that they clamber up a pile of corpses just so they can be a little higher up when they die of exhaustion. this system can serve nobody because the only thing keeping it running is fear and desperation

[gibbearish]

idk, its just. like. a person comes up to you with their heart cradled in their hands. says it is broken, says it hurts. places it in your hands, asks you to please make it stop and trusts you to fix it. wouldnt you be scared, too? wouldn't you be haunted by visions of you tripping and shattering it beyond repair, of driving the thing thats hurting them even further down so that maybe no one can ever get it out, of someone in their deepest darkest moment trusting you with their life and you fucking it up? how could that ever feel like anything but defusing a bomb? trust is such a valuable thing, a powerful thing, a delicate thing, and the more you have the more you get given and the more careful you have to be with it because what if someday you drop it and break it and it turns out you never should have been given it in the first place. wouldnt you be scared?

[orcelito]

Oh yeah yesterday I went to my C programming professor's office hours to ask about what's being covered in class tomorrow. Since I can't go bc of my PT appointment overlapping with it & I'm apparently the kind of student that cares about attending every single class now.

While I was there, I ended up chatting with him about a few things, including my current standing in the class. He asked what I got on the midterm exam, & I answered it was an 87, and he told me I was one of the top 5 or 6 scores in the Whole Class (this being a like. Maybe 70 or so person class). Top score was a 92 or 93 (idr lol) & the class average was a 72. Apparently there were a few of us in the upper 80s/lower 90s, but most people got 70s or lower. And once he does the curve on the exam, he said I'd probably end up with a 97 or so on the exam. So yay!!!

And then he told me how he's noticed how I come to class every day and am really active with taking notes and answering questions. Bc I also sit up front all the time lmao. Hadn't even realized how much of a damned teacher's pet I've been being, but I've been Trying to be a good student this year. But he said I was the type of student that if I got an 88% or smth in the class, he'd likely bump me up to a 90% so I'd get an A lol. But he also said so long as I keep up with how I have been, I could possibly get a 100% in the class by the end (bc I've been there for all the extra credit questions in class and whatever).

And just. I went there bc I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything important in class on Wednesday, and I ended up having my ego stroked for Real. Felt good to have my efforts be recognized.