#(but I offer thee a little snippet)

[rat-rosemary]

For a single moment, look back at me. Pretend I didn't leave you, pretend I didn't betray you and leave you and your family's home in ruin. Look at me like I'm someone you could still love, someone you could still mourn.

Don't call for him! For that other man who talks softly to you across the glass, who you call your love! Look back at me, don't kneel by the drowned body of your new lover, don't let these people I do not know but are always around hold you and lead you away! The water is flowing in, look at me Sapnap, LOOK AT ME! SAPNAP! SAPNAP!

SAPNAP DONT LEAVE ME, LOOK AT ME!

[matrixbearer2024]

Modernity AU Main Four Lore Snips(1/?)

Sorry for the lack of art and content on my main and my blog guys, been really busy so far given the holiday. I plan on updating things asap but for now I'll try my best to answer any asks or entertain suggestions and comments regarding the modernity AU! For now, I offer some little lore snippets that I think should be more helpful context clues. I'm not entirely sure how to slot these into my askblog in the meantime so have at thee!

Fiddleford's family comes from a successful pigery which had eventually expanded and branched out. The corporation his family actively owns distributes and sells meat products all over the world.

It's something I don't really talk about much aside from saying it's old money, but I do generally think given the current world and all that meat products could either be a hit or miss. In this case, I wondered what it would be like if his family had been successfully rooted in the business for decades. Generally speaking, it's not a guarantee and oftentimes the food production industry can have it's ups and downs. Still, I figured with the convenience and efficiency of the modern day- why not try?

So yeah, when I say Fidds comes from old money in this AU— it's old money. Like, decades old at this point. Thankfully, the Mcgucket family is generally very smart about their riches despite the fact they could quite literally throw money at everything. It's also why sometimes Fidds doesn't realize his privilege borders on rude when he's just that accustomed to a lifestyle with insane amounts of money.

Bill's necklace isn't inanimate, not that anyone knows or notices even.

That actually has a lot to do with his backstory, the demon triangle actually still does exist in this AU but this human Bill is a completely separate entity from the Euclidean. His necklace works more like a window for that chaotic piece of geometry and it's why I constantly draw it emoting or reacting to certain things around.

What I will reveal about Bill's backstory is that his entire family is part of a weird cult that worships the triangle and his role to play in most of it is generally as a homunculus. Something "human-like" or a "humanoid puppet" in terms of alchemy. He is human, just born and created for some pretty screwed up reasons. He isn't even the first, nor the last. It just so happens his siblings either died from complications growing up or during childbirth.

It's why his aunt and uncle were able to get custody of him pretty early, taken away from his biological family at the age of three and the guardianship was legally transferred when he was five. Bill's fascination with triangles in this AU isn't really unfounded, he just doesn't know the real reason why. But the scars that his blood family left behind did stick, and it's why he has such an aversion to the occult or most religious regalia.

Ford having a general lack of interest or indifference to romantic relationships actually has a lot to do with his upbringing.

Personally, I don't think Stanford would be entirely keen on the concept of "love" given how he sees the bond between his parents. That and he doesn't see how someone could turn so irrational or blind with the right cocktail of hormones. He doesn't see the objectivity in most of it so he's generally just confused or doesn't care enough to try. It's actually why he didn't even entertain Cathy's confession letter, immediately assuming it had something to do with bullying or a chain instead of anything amiable or even romantic.

He's not disgusted or has an aversion to it like many of his peers assume, he's just indifferent and doesn't have it as a priority. Ford isn't actually sure if he's ever really even fallen for somebody before, the closest he's got and is painfully aware of is just caring for somebody to a detriment without even feeling "lovey-dovey". Do with that as you will.

Stanley loves musicals, he loves watching them and listening to the soundtracks. It's just not very known because he feels like he has a reputation and he'd rather leave the "geeky" thing to his twin.

This isn't to say that he has an aversion or general distaste for being labeled as nerdy or geeky, just that he loves to knock heads with his brother for being the "cool" Stan. He first watched Wicked on broadway and then everything else soon followed, Hamilton, The Greatest Showman, Six, Dear Evan Hansen, etc., things just snowballed from there and he's been hooked ever since. His favorite probably really has to be "Six" or "The Greatest Showman".

It helps that he knows how to sing and still does, he just doesn't do it often to avoid people from making requests or asking him to perform. Stanley doesn't have stage fright like his twin, he just gets tired very easily by it when it's non-stop performing tunes he doesn't even like or know.

That doesn't stop him or Ford from drunkenly singing "The Other Side" or "Defying Gravity" at three in the morning after a weekend of partying though.

The Stan Twins for the life of them will not stop debating on whether tea or coffee is better.

Ford is jittery because of the copious amounts of caffeine he ingests and Stan sometimes wonders if you could drop from too much caffeine. He's tried to stop and only ended up sleeping like a dead man for four full days. Fidds still often refers to it as a post-exam hibernation.

On the other hand, Stan is often too aware of the crash his brother gets and would rather sleep more often than end up shaking and twitching non-stop from caffeine. He does need the boost though, so he drinks tea.

Bill usually often thinks that it's like trying to watch oil and water mix while eating breakfast with the Stan twins given that most of the conversation is just swallowed by this debate. His guess is it has a lot to do with the fact Ford is not a morning person and he makes it everybody's problem.

Fiddleford loves horseback riding and it's a hobby he's had ever since he was a kid. He has a stable and field for his horses. Fidds both buys the horses and pays for their care with his own allocated allowance.

It's not really even because he's into cowboys and everything, he just finds them very sweet animals and genuinely interesting. They're basically bigger and faster dogs in his mind. Most of the horses Fidds buys aren't even wild, they're retired horses that most owners would already decide to get rid of because their either aged or far past their use(carriage horses, racehorses, etc.).

Fidds' favorite horse which he's had for around 15 years now is a retired deep brown racehorse named "Marlboro". That horse is already around 20 years old and was forced to retire after it slipped and fell on the racetrack. That horse belonged to a relative and was just given to Fidds as a gift for his 8th birthday.

Marlboro loves his person so much that every time Fidds returns home during breaks, the horse straight up starts walking out of the stable and stops for absolutely nobody.

It's something his family is slightly surprised and alarmed by sometimes because Fidds' horses do have designated caretakers and vets that do their job well. It just so happens that the horses really just remember Fidds and are more than happy to see him again.

Fidds doesn't always ride his horses whenever he's home but he never fails to visit all of them and check in. As of now, he has six horses and four are stallions(all gelded); the other two are mares. Fiddleford isn't really interested in breeding horses anyway so this doesn't give him any issue.

Bill has a slight obsession with the show squid game but doesn't really talk about it.

The concept and idea behind the show and the games genuinely interests him for reasons he isn't sure why. Though, he would sometimes think about it for a long while trying to figure it out. It also doesn't help that the games also tend to fixate on human desperation and greed, something that terrifies the blonde as much as it intrigues him.

It resonates with how he typically sees his own life, a pick your poison of: "you die now or die later". Even so, Bill is a bit irked with himself for gravitating towards something like this when he also finds himself nauseated by the amount of death and gore. His fixation generally merits mixed feelings on his end but it's a fixation nonetheless.

Stan and Ford throw things at each other almost daily, it doesn't even have to be for any specific reason other than they're screwing around.

Ford has thrown at thesaurus at Stanley before for the sake of a joke and consequently couldn't stop laughing at the sheer utter confusion his brother had because of it. He does debate on doing it more often though when Stan annoys the heck out of him by just murdering the English language.

On the flip side, Stan's also gotten hilariously good at sniping his twin with a pillow when the guy does or is about to do some really dumb shit. Like messing with rocket fuel that may or may not explode? Yeah Stan's chucking that flask out the window and hitting a bullseye to the face on a grumpy Stanford with a couch cushion.

It's all fun and games no matter what happens and both of them know when to take it seriously or when not to do this. Though so far, it's generally free game and the twins are just that chaotic even as adults.

[again-and-then]

Random PEW Snippet #3

Prompt: Sins of the Father (I'm being lazy about writing the next chapter so I figured I'd leave you with this little snippet and run. Let you guys stew on whether or not this is canon and what exactly the context might be)

“You cannot ask this of us!” cried Lilith, voice shaking with the kind of pain and fury that would have sundered armies. Lucifer had always known that if ever in creation there would be a mortal with the will to stand up to God, it would be Lilith. Actually seeing it in practice was something to behold. Despite her injuries in the battle beforehand, Lilith stood stalwart and immovable as a mountain before a storm as she glared up at the master of creation. “After you vilified us and cast us out, now you stand and ask that we give away what little honor and dignity we have left?”

Her anger was not for God alone, as she then turned upon the gathered sins, mighty warriors all who withered with shame under her gaze. “And you! Shame on you all for even considering this! I care not for how shiny the trinkets are offered, what this creature asks us is a betrayal of everything you stood for!” as she berated them, they each dropped their eyes to the ground but could not bring themselves to speak. Lucifer could not blame them for temptation, the gifts offered each of them were indeed grand. With them in hand, each of them would be able to bring prosperity to the domains they claimed, cementing their rule of the rings from now until Doomsday. Yet, he knew his companions, if he asked they would follow no matter the cost… It simply came down to him and Lilith to make the final choice.

“Surely there must be another way, even you cannot be so heartless.” Lucifer begged, hoping beyond hope that there must be some alternative to the atrocity they were being asked to commit. Lucifer had done many terrible things in war, things that would haunt him for ages to come… but a betrayal of this magnitude? To someone they cared for? No matter the condition that had consumed them, he did not know if his heart could suffer the weight of this sin.

“This is as it must be.” Quiet as a whisper, loud as a thunderclap. The voice of God was neither kind nor angry, it simply was. Often that was the worst thing, no matter what the being claimed to think or feel, God's voice never held a flicker of emotion, not even when casting down his favored son. “This is my will, the best chance to hold back the darkness you set free. Samael, My Morning Star, and Lilith, First Daughter of Mankind, your burdens are great but it is known that you will do as I will. I can give that which you desire above all else, that which only I can give.”

Lucifer scoffed, there were times he had been a great fool but he wasn't stupid. “What could you possibly give that I cannot make for myse-” the words died in his throat as God raised a mass of stars in the shape of a hand, presenting three roses. Impossibly perfect, petals the color of purest platinum. The power radiating from them was obvious, a power that should not exist… one that Lucifer knew immediately, and so did Lilith. She took in a shuddering breath, iron resolve crumbling as she looked on at the miracle presented before them.

“Do my will and I give unto thee the gift of life. Three roses, three chances, three years in which Lilith may walk among the living once more.” God spoke again and the pair trembled. For so long they had looked up on the living world with remorse and jealousy, for their greatest wish was denied them. The dead could not give the gift of life, Lilith’s embrace of the powers of Hell had meant that she gave up hope of a family. They had tried so many times, so many different forms of magic and rituals but nothing could truly restore the dead back to life… Nothing but the grace of God. Lilith gripped his shoulder, tears streaking her face as she looked at him. They both knew that this would be their only chance… but the cost?

… Even the Devil was not immune to temptation it would seem.

“I… accept.”

[vacantgodling]

🪦 🏰 🔮 👑 🌳 :3c

THANK!!!! more factoids <3

🪦 the graves we dug

i think its time we get into factoids tm.

the main bad guy of tgwd is currently named 'mr. androidson' specifically modeled on the way that fucking hugo weaving says 'mr. anderson' in the fucking matrix bc i just think its funny ODJS the matrix has also become a Small Bit of inspiration for the plot of this wip as i slowly detangle it, which is also funny bc i've never actually watched the matrix series, only many Many movie review youtube videos pff.

🏰 the many lovers of the king of concordia

i talked to you about this bc you are Thee concordia connoisseur but the funniest thing in the world to me is the fact that ricaud actually does get married..... to a man which pisses off his council to NO FUCKING END LMAO. anyway king4king relationship that doesn't deprioritize any of ricaud's other lovers go <3

🔮 magic sex school

from my one piece that talked about bruno meeting cate, one of pax's shitty frat boy friends is this dude named acres (that's his last name anyway i still haven't given him a first) that kinda heckles bruno for being a slut tm. a few weeks later he's gonna be taking bruno's strap tho so who's the slut now PFF

👑 paramour

technically this is both a factoid and a snippet. since last year i started to rework and rewrite paramour's outline (haven't finished yet, got infected with btaf brainrot which i don't think will let me live until draft 2 is finished then i'm probably gonna go back to paramour) and i reworked amon and hya's first meeting so here it is in all its outlined glory:

after hya is finished being dolled up, there is a rapping on the dressing room door and a servantwoman; miss shanin, informs hyacinthus that in a few moments time, a servant will be coming to fetch him to lead him to his end of the aisle. as said, a handsome servant clad in a deep red, near crimson, approaches hyacinthus (amon), and does not speak but simply smiles kindly, offering his arm to lead hyacinthus towards his place in the aisle. before him lies an entourage of servants dressed in purples, pinks, and oranges, wearing masks shaped like celestial bodies, holding baskets full of tiny white gems to scatter on the floor before him during the walk.

so technically the first time hya sees/meets amon is during his wedding day, walking him down the aisle. HOWEVER the first time they actually speak is later:

hyacinthus has the butler come with him so he can hand off his dirtied clothes to him, having entirely no qualms about stripping right in front of him. he doesn’t notice, but the reader should take note about how amon’s (the butler’s) gaze looks quite hungry.

once he has stripped, hyacinthus sorts through his clothes to find something simple and presentable. the butler asks what should he do with his own garments and hyacinthus snaps that he doesn’t care he can burn them for all he cares.

the two bicker as hyacinthus changes and eventually tosses him out of the room with the sullied clothes for the evening. sometime later, the butler from before (amon) brings back up the requested single dinner plate to hyacinthus’s chamber doors. when hyacinthus asks him why he’s there, the butler (amon) simply says they all drew straws and he was the unlucky duckling (a galarian folktale i guess?) — mirroring tagetes’s words from earlier in the day.

hyacinthus takes the tray from the butler, then throws it at him, drenching his clothes in the food now as well. he remarks that the butler is ‘dismissed’ before slamming the door in his face and demanding from the other side that no one bother him until it is time to leave this ‘wretched summer villa.’ hyacinthus gets even more pissed off when he hears the butler chuckle behind the door.

and they just fucking amuse me your honor.

🌳 the chronicles of lathsbury

i've been redoing the tcol timeline little by little so have a snip:

The Goddess IISIDIA came into being alone; surrounded by a vast and empty abyss, with only the fabric of the disembodied Fracta, Cantillo floating freely around her. With her first steps in this endless void, sound began to trickle into being. It echoed from every direction in a ceaseless groan, and these echoes reminded her that she was utterly alone—as the only thing making these noises, was the sound of her own feet. To remedy her loneliness, she began to chant. With each deep word that tumbled from her great throat, the echo increased. As the echo increased in sound and strength, it soon became a deafening roar—and that roar she took into her great black palms and began to mold. Each chant began to coincide with the thundering of her great hands, and as she molded and began to shape this roar, it began to take on a physical form. Cantillo began to interweave itself with every beat she stopped between this meticulous molding, and it wasn’t before long before IISIDIA was holding a world within the palm of her hands. 

[synthwavecryptid]

skhdfks i'm glad you liked the little drabble i wrote ;; toast having feelings and ashe being soft for him... i tried my best lol, but i do hope i did ashe justice and that it made your sadness ease for at least a moment. much peace to your family's dog :(

now. ABOUT LIFELINE. oh my god i love how he got his name are you kidding i love the story MY BOY YOU ARE SO SAD BUT SO ENDURING *sobs*. me when,,,, captain x lifeline,,, ehem. anyways. i love that they wanted to call him miracle! he is a very miraculous medic indeed. but "our own very life-line whenever death calls" is just. so so him i got hit by this sentence right in the heart. I AM GOING INSANE, KOKO. INSANE I TELL YOU. li beloved you deserve everything good in the world every nice thing ever should be yours ;;

ALSO OH MY GOD I LISTENED TO LIFELINE'S PLAYLIST. putting "nearer my god to thee", "canto alla vita" and "hallelujah" IS CRIMINAL. god the feelings it gave me ;; li my love angels sing when you have a scalpel in your hand, merciful death bloodied and grief-striken you are döden by janis rozentāls himself. angel in the morgue you are charon you are azrael you are anubis the ever companion of death the psychopomp the guiding hand of the last breath. angel of life angel of death the wings on your back cannot take flight the sadness in your heart cannot drown you the fear reflected in the face of your brethren cannot threaten the steadiness of your hands. there are souls stuck in your walls that still love the last kindness you offered them. take heart, beloved, you may save another yet.

god i love him so much

anyways. when will li receive his well-deserved thousand hugs. if you need a volunteer may i offer myself. also! do you have any story planned for li, toast and ashe? or are you just going by vibes? also what's the relationship between them i need li and burnt bread interactions!!

on a purely anecdotal note, a friend of mine has a clone medic oc that also has wings tattooed on the back. i thought it was such a coincidence and wondered for a second about it, but i think medics are figures of mercy for clones as angels may be in some religions, and the comparison made me my eyes tear up a little... anyways. li my beloved ;;

I LOVED IT, IT WAS SO SWEET and Ashe is so perfectly grumpy and smitten, bless him,.,. But aaaa thank you again it really was such a bright spot in a horrid week ❤️

Ohhh I know in my bones the captain is sweet on Li, who wouldn’t be after that 😭 perhaps they have some Tender Interludes… and AUGH I’m forever so delighted that Li is so adored, it warms my creaky old heart

I do have a loose story in mind for the boys, as there’s a few key missions and battles I see them involved in, but it’ll probably be done in snippets here and there because I haven’t written for real in a LONG time 😩 but Li is one of the 212ths medics, and thus sees Toast and Ashe fairly often. Toast does his damnedest to keep up on the Lifeline Hug Count, usually with the kind that pick Li right up off the floor. Li lets it happen because discouraging Toast is impossible, but also those hugs pop his back and it’s nice

YAAAAAA MEDIC WITH WING TATTOO GANG!!!! I love it, it’s a trope/pattern/common thought that I go bananas for every time. Same hat AND good soup. There’s no gods in war, no divine intervention, only medics as their saints

[trackerkitsune]

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

:3c

Honestly my ability to actually work on wips other than my silly little crackship au is at an all time low, so have a snippet of Godwyn/Gwyndolin arranged marriage AU:

(There is misgendering in here, thanks to Gwyn being an overall shit father to Gwyndolin.)

Marika sat upon her throne, statuesque as she regarded her guest. This visitor was a step above the usual lords and ladies she had treated with to get her Lands to where they were now, or the grovelling prisoners of war that had begged for her and her Lord’s mercy (often to no avail).

“Thou wouldst ask for my firstborn son to be wed to thy lastborn?” This was a man on par with her own power, and that was the only reason she hadn't refused him outright. Compulsion and threats would not work. Her grip tightened on the arms of her throne.

Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, King of the Gods of Anor Londo stood tall, his crown shining gold as he leant on his sword. He was unimpressed by her demeanour, or the threat in her words.

They both knew what this meeting was really about, and what a marriage would mean.

Keeping the Golden Order from spreading into more foreign lands. Keeping the dragons of the Lands Between from being hunted by the knights from the Lordran, as the Order struggled to stop them from being hunted by the native dragon communion churches to begin with. A prevention of a possible war between two prideful gods, wanting more land and influence.

"Thou knowest why I offer my youngest, Lady Marika," the old man replied firmly. "My other daughters art accounted for. Princess Gwyndolin is mine only child left to offer thee."

[stellerssong]

5 and 29 please?

5—what’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

having given the matter a great deal of thought, i’ve come to the conclusion that i have no interest in writing a corinthian/lucienne femdom hatesex on the beach fic, on the grounds that i’m personally not compelled by the fantasy it presents. apologies to everyone who read the middle section of that sentence and immediately went AWOOGA AWOOGA BARK BARK BARK BARK AWOOOOO like a cartoon character. i know you are out there and i heard you do it.

the real bummer of this whole affair, though, is the fact that “beg me to spare thee the back of my hand” would have been a kickass title. free to a good home, friends!

29—share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.

i don’t work in drafts, so everything that’s been cut from existing fics has been sent to hell already. but what i CAN offer you is this (probably obnoxiously long) snippet from a portion of wereverse that i will probably never actually post about, lovingly nicknamed, “the bath time fic”:

The tub isn’t quite wide enough for them to sit side-by-side, and he moves toward the tap a little so Lucienne can lower herself into the water, angles himself so his cheek is to her, rather than his back. A dark glitter as his gaze flicks over her body. She knows it’s ridiculous to have an attack of modesty right now, but she brings her arms up to cover her breasts. “There,” she says, too cheerful even for her own ears. “Does that help?” Dream makes a small noise in his throat. Maybe assent. Hard to tell. But he does reach out with one hand and rest his knuckles gently against Lucienne’s knee. You can tell he’s getting keyed when he starts grabbing and clinging and clawing at you. Light touches are a good sign. They mean he’s present enough to be careful. (Well. They mean something’s present enough, says a voice in her head that sounds a lot like Cori. She ignores that, as best she can.) “Is the water warm enough?” A nod. Better and better. “Do you need me to soap you, or…?” Silence for a moment. Dream’s throat works, like there’s a reply stuck in there trying to get out, but in the end he just unfolds one slim arm and picks up the bar of soap himself. “All right. Well…” Lucienne settles herself a little uncomfortably against the back of the tub. “Just—let me know. If you need anything.” His white lashes go up like a pair of dove’s wings. Luminous dark underneath, whites visible only at the corners. A creature’s eyes, an animal’s eyes, for all that he’s being so good about holding onto his human shape. That’s going to be…difficult to explain to people not in the know about his condition, at some point, but Lucienne’s not thinking about that yet, she’s just thinking about immediate concerns, practicalities— He shifts position slightly so the tips of his toes are resting against hers. A faint line works its way in between his brows. He still doesn’t speak, but that expression is plain as black ink on white paper: is this okay? Lucienne has to smile at that. Her face aches, like she’s lost the muscle memory sometime in the past however-many weeks. Footsie. Aren’t the two of them fucking adorable.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Basalt

Summary: Ruby takes Regina to the Blue Lagoon for her birthday.

Regina bites her nails, a habit she had thought that she had overcome years ago. At this rate she would be spending the entirety of her birthday at an airport. 

Ruby nudges her. “If you want to bite something you can have some of my oatmeal. It's got brown sugar and apple chunks.”

Regina lowers her hand and bites the inside of her cheek which is only a slight improvement. “I'm not particularly hungry.” Apatite is usually the first thing that anxiety takes from her. Sleep is the next to follow.

“You haven't eaten since breakfast.” Ruby passes her the little styrofoam cup and a plastic spoon. Steam fogs reading glasses that she may as well not have put on--she hasn't touched her novel. “It'll give you something else to do.” Ruby urges.

“Thank you.” 

“It’s just a small delay and your birthday isn’t until tomorrow…”

She very nearly snaps that she knows when her own birthday is but she bites her tongue at the last moment. If nothing else, this so called short delay is a testament to how far she has come in regards to how she deals with stress.

“We’ll get to Reykjavik way before then. We’ll probably even have enough time to explore the city a little bit before we have to get to the bus stop.” 

Regina nods. She watches yet another airplane that is not hers take off. With her luck, when they do board the plane, she won’t even be able to sit next to Ruby. Likely she will be sandwiched between two perfect strangers and one of them will have probably neglected taking a shower that day. She clutches her carry-on bag to her chest. Twenty-eight years in the same town, never leaving, never wanting to has left her with an unease around planes and a twitchiness towards airports and their frantic crowds. Some would probably call it karma. 

God, the longer she sits here listening to folks more disgruntled than she, the more antsy she gets. This chair is making her lower back sore. Her neck too. The Blue Lagoon is sounding particularly inviting right now. 

Ruby leans against her shoulder as she forces herself to eat an admittedly tasty spoonful of oatmeal and than another. It certainly tastes better than fingernails and chips of dark brown nail polish. She recalls, at once, why she stopped polishing her nails after leaving the Enchanted Forest. 

At least it isn’t an overnight flight, she reminds herself. At least it will only be several more hours. It is only late afternoon but she is thoroughly exhausted. One bowl of oatmeal later she finds herself nodding off. 

She wakes up to Ruby nudging her awake with new that it is time for them to finally board their plane. 

.oOo.

The view from the plane had been amazing in itself–a first glance at the glimmering, sparkling splendor that they would soon be a part of. It offered snippets of volcanoes and glaciers and geothermal steam. A wintery wonderland with plumes of fire and heat. Admittedly she had slept for much of the car ride from the airport to their hotel. Ruby insists that she had missed out on some spectacular views but at least she can say that she isn’t cranky and moody anymore. Still a touch tired, but she can function now. And the view from their hotel room is nice enough. 

They have a perfect view of the Blue Lagoon whose steam rolls right up to the glass door, beckoning them to step into waters surrounded by black, volcanic rock. Rocks that tower high, teeming with rich green moss. The auroras aren’t out tonight but a steady sprinkle of snow glitters in the soft lights that illuminate the patio.

“Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get thee Blue Lagoon Suite. I would have had to fill out this request form…but I was able to get this Lagoon Suite.” She sighs. “Sorry, Gina.” 

“Sorry?” Regina furrows her brows. She runs her fingers through the curling ribbon tied to a complimentary bottle of champagne. “This room has its own minibar and a private section of the lagoon!” She looks at the pamphlet. “Apparently daily group yoga and Icelandic coffee time is included in this package as well.”

Ruby’s smile returns, she sweeps Regina off of her feet and twirls her around. She lays her on the bed where Regina kicks off her shoes and lets herself sink into a plush mattress. A mattress that is somehow even comfier, more luxurious than the one in her own mansion. She exhales. 

Ruby finds the remote and turns the stereo on. “Want the curtains opened or closed?” 

“Well that all depends on what we’re doing.” Regina raises a brow. 

“I was hoping that we could go for dinner and a bath, unless you wanted to get right to the sex.” Ruby shrugs. 

It still takes Regina aback how blunt the woman can be sometimes. “Actually, a bath with dinner sounds nice.” So long as she doesn’t knock the plates into the bath. 

“I’ll call and order. Do you want to get the bath going? I’m pretty sure that skincare, candles, and some massage oils were included with the stay.” She pauses. “What were you planning on getting? I was looking at the…this.” She points at the menu.

“Rúgbrauð.” 

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Pronounce these words.” 

Regina laughs. “I did a little research before coming here. Perhaps I should order the food and you can get the bath ready so you don’t have to try to say kjötsupa.”

“Yeah. That might be a good idea. I was thinking of just saying ‘hot spring bread’ and ‘lamb soup.’” 

After putting the phone back in its cradle she joins Ruby on the patio where they dip their feet into the lagoon water until room service lets them know that their dinner has arrived. 

Regina lets her night robe drop to the floor and slips herself into the lightly steaming water. She closes her eyes and sinks into its warmth. It is, by all means, an amazing taste of what tomorrow will be like. She exhales the stress of the day. 

“Want a massage with your bath and dinner?” Ruby offers. 

Heavens, it isn’t even her birthday quite yet and the woman is absolutely spoiling her. “That would be wonderful, dear. If you would.” 

Ruby’s touch is absolutely divine as her hands work the knots out of her neck. Her meal can wait, for the moment she is perfectly content to lean on the bathtub and let her fiance knead the tension away. The right squeezes in the right spots and the right pressure applied in just the right way makes it easy for Regina to pretend that she hadn’t been sitting tense and stiffly at an airport for several hours.

She will have to do something extra special for Ruby on her birthday. The woman had mentioned Morocco.

“How’s that?” Ruby asks. 

“Perfect.” Regina purs. 

Ruby smiles and ruffles Regina’s hair. “Well that’s all I’ve got. I’m ready for my…”

“Rúgbrauð.”

“Yeah, that.” 

Regina chuckles.

.oOo.

It isn’t as crowded as Regina had anticipated, likely because she has the advantage of being an early riser. Ruby, a woman of the moon by nature, not so much; she is running almost entirely on that Icelandic coffee. 

She seems to have as much fog in her head as the lagoon has steam. 

“Happy birthday, Regina.” She says at last. “I hope that this is a good start.”

“So far, yes.” She certainly can’t complain about a gourmet breakfast. Neither can she complain about having a hand to hold as she makes her way into the lagoon water. Truth be told she hadn’t expected it to be as blue as it is in the pictures. But she is pleasantly surprised to find that it is every bit as vibrant as she had been led to believe. 

Last night’s bath had been exquisite but it is nothing compared to feeling the lagoon water on her skin and the basalt rocks against the soles of her feet. Nothing compared to feeling the water stir against her body as she wades deeper within.

“So we get our silica mud masks over there.” Ruby points. “And our drinks over there.”

“I think that you should wait until at least noon to get a beverage, unless your going for something that’s non—”

“I’m getting something alcoholic.” Ruby interrupts. “We’re getting something alcoholic to celebrate your birthday with.”

“How about we start with the facial mask first?” She suggests. “Personally I would love to start my day with soft skin.” 

“Would you like to try that float therapy before or after we have our drinks?” Ruby asks. 

Regina shrugs. “I’ll see what I’m in the mood for after washing the mask off.”

.oOo.

Ruby grins to herself; it is nice to see Regina in such good spirits. She is so used to seeing the woman all tense and stressed. To see her running her hands along the black rocks of the lava canyon as she glides her way through the water. To see her slow down for a change and pause to marvel at the sights around her. There is an almost childlike sense of awe on her face as she marvels at the small cave—their own, for the moment—hidden corridor for the day.

Regina finds herself a seat on one of several rocks and rests her chin in her palms. For a time she simply sits in silence, watching the water reflect on the cave’s ceiling, listening to its gentle churning. Outside of the cave, another dusting of snow begins to fall. Each flake dissipates well before it has a chance to hit the lagoon’s water.

 “This is…it’s really wonderful. All of it.” Regina finally remarks. “Thank you, Ruby. It means a lot. I can’t remember the last time that I actually enjoyed  my birthday.” 

“Of course, Regina.” She invites herself into the woman’s lap and lets her play with her hair. Regina moves her chin from her palms to the top of Ruby’s head. 

In continued silence, Regina slides her arms around Ruby’s waist. And for a moment she thinks that Regina is going to cry. Recently it has been pretty easy to forget just how much the woman has been through and just how frigid the entirety of Storybrooke had been to her. And how hostile she had been to its citizens. The woman holding her is such a far cry from that; she is a rather quiet woman. Reserved and private. But she is a warm person with a kind smile when she manages one. 

With any luck, Ruby will be able to coax more of them from her. She has seen so many of them in just these last two days. 

“I’m going to make a cake for you.” Ruby declares. 

Regina quirks a brow. “Is that right?”

Ruby nods. “It is. And we’re going to enjoy it on the patio with a side of northern lights!”

“You can’t just order those.” Regina gives a humored sniff. “They'll come out when and if the are ready.” She pauses. “It would be a nice touch but…” she pauses. “This has already been amazing.” She kisses the top of Ruby’s head. “Thank you.” This is spoken in a whisper that Ruby barely hears. 

“Of course, Regina.” She herself can’t really ask for more. Frankly she would be perfectly content to sit in a cracked and battered pool of some cheap hotel so long as she could make conversation with Regina. So long as she could see that smile.

She looks from the diamond on her finger to the one on Regina’s. 

She will get to see that smile. 

Over and over again as they explore the world together. 

Finally, she is free. 

Finally, she has adventure. 

Finally, she has a lover who can keep pace.

[moonaturie]

1. Oh, prepare thyself to witness a sight of utter charm and delight, for here lies a picture that has bloomed like a precious flower in the enchanted gallery of memories! Your guidance and tips in the realm of photography have filled my soul with a joyous melody, and oh, I am eager to dance with the playful rays of light to further illuminate my path to mastery! Amidst the blossoming of this newfound knowledge, a delightful surprise awaits thee, a mirror selfie of my very essence, lovingly wrapped in a ribbon of gratitude, exclusively gifted from me to thee! Oh, like a twinkling star in a vast sky, it seeks to bring a little spark of happiness to your cherished heart! Until fate whimsically reunites our souls, let us embrace this spellbinding journey, skipping through the meadows of imagination, painting the world with hues of laughter and affection!

2. Oh, imagine the shimmering sun-kissed waves, playfully caressing the shore as they welcome our carefree steps! The sands of time seem to dance to the beat of our excitement, as if the universe itself conspires to bring forth this spellbinding moment, a manifestation to the magic that lies dormant within us all. And there, amidst this picturesque setting, stood I, feeling like a celestial siren, as if I had stepped right out of the pages of a timeless fairy tale. The camera in hand, I could not help but laugh with sheer delight, for in that moment, I felt like the very essence of Ariel herself. Oh, how I treasure this keepsake in the treasure chest of my memories, for it warms the cockles of my heart with a happiness that has no limit. May the enchantment of that moment linger within me, igniting the flame of inspiration as I continue on my own extraordinary journey through life.

3. The salty sea breeze, like a mischievous pixie, danced around me, while seagulls painted joyous arcs in the boundless sky. It was a realm where mermaids and sea creatures beings seemed to giggle just out of sight, as if they were sharing precious secrets with the shimmering sea. Each click of the camera immortalized snippets of this enchanting journey, preserving my joy and wonder in frames of pure delight. Like a living storybook character, I danced in the realm of dreams, as the world embraced my newfound whimsy with open arms, enchanted by the magic of the moment! As I bid good-bye to that blissful reverie, I cradle the spirit of that summer vacation in the treasure trove of my cherished memories. Oh, how it continues to spark a forever-joy in my soul, like a brilliant firework illuminating the night sky! It reminds me that life is a grand adventure, where the most mundane moments can transform into wonders!

4. What an absolute delight it was to be graced with the delectable presence of those scrumptious cookies at the enchanting fansign event yesterday! The mere sight of those sweet treats filled my heart with nostalgic warmth, as it brought faces back into view that I hadn't beheld in quite some time. Indeed, there was an ineffable charm in witnessing those familiar smiles and sparkling eyes, reminiscent of long-lost stars that had momentarily wandered from the cosmic embrace. The shared laughter and friends were like soft whispers of a cherished melody, weaving threads of connection that transcended the passing of time. May this portrait encapsulate the warmth of our shared moments and be a joyful reminder of the enchanting times we shall yet go upon. With each glance, may it conjure the softest of smiles and invoke the fluttering of butterflies, for it is but a humble reflection of the bond that interlaces us together in this melody of life.

5. Yet another delightful offering, crafted with love and tender care, just for you, my Swithies! I must confess, in this little treasure, I bestow upon you a heartfelt assurance that I refrain from munching anything, for in the very depths of my being, it feels as though my cheeks are on the verge of a wondrous explosion of joy! If you find yourself perplexed about what delectable delight to indulge in, fear not, for you have a charmingly whimsical option available—feast upon the sheer adorableness of my cheeks! Oh, the flavors you shall encounter are not of the culinary kind, but rather the sweetness of friendship, laughter, and endless camaraderie. Also, brace yourself for an adorably enchanting announcement that shall set your heart aflutter with excitement! From this very moment, let us eagerly anticipate the delightful Pang Pang STAYC that await us, like twinkling stars dotting the night sky, promising a world of wonder and joy!

6. As the day meanders along, like a tranquil river, I am here to shower you with a heartwarming gift that shall increase the spark of joy within your soul! Behold, like a cascade of twinkling stars, I present to you a collection of my most endearing selfies, ready to whisk you away to a realm of pure enchantment! Let this endearing gift fill your day with a radiant glow, like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. May it remind you that, despite the ebb and flow of life's currents, the enchantment of our bond remains eternal, like a gleaming of light guiding us through the darkest of times. As the gentle zephyrs whispered secrets from afar, I felt an irresistible urge to brighten your moments, to shower you with the essence of our cherished love, through these enchanting snapshots. For even on the dullest of days, within the heart of our friendship, lies a symphony of delight waiting to be uncovered.

7. Amidst the splendor of a picturesque view that summons with its mesmerizing allure, my dear, let not your gaze stray too far, for the truest gem deserving of your eternal attention is none other than yours truly! Yes, that's right, it's me—the enchanting presence that lights up your world like a constellation of stars on a clear, moonlit night! Amidst this divine serenity, let us get drawn in the enchantment of our companionship, where laughter flows like a crystal-clear stream and the bonds of friendship are forged in the fires of love and understanding. The view may indeed be a sight to behold, but it pales in comparison to the magic that unrolls when our hearts intertwine, like the most intricate of lacework. With every ripple of laughter, let us revel in the enchantment of our togetherness, for in this grand symphony of life, you and I create a harmonious melody that resonates with the sweetest of notes.

8. Oh, how our hearts align in perfect harmony, for as the saying goes, "three is better than one," and together, we form an irreplaceable bond, a symphony of love and joy that shall serenade you with its endearing melody! Ready to steal your heart and capture your attention in the most delightful of ways! We are here to uplift you, to celebrate your win, and to lend a listening ear when the world seems a tad overwhelming. For within the sacred circle of our friendship, you are cherished beyond measure, and your happiness becomes our shared goal. Oh, how the celestial forces have aligned to bring together this cherished trio, a serendipitous fusion of kindred spirits, destined to form an unbreakable love that knows no limits. Our presence serves as a light of warmth, like the soft glow of a thousand candles illuminating the path to friendship's most treasured haven.

[hacash]

ted lasso 2x09 thoughts

ARGH

those are it. those are my thoughts.

Ok, slightly more coherently…

Sam’s getting recognition! Sam has his own chant! I love that for him. Love it all. It’s obviously so good that Sam is becoming an in-universe hero when we’ve loved him from his first scene - however, that also comes with the caveat of not wanting him to move anywhere from Nelson Road. I’m curious to see where they take it though, because I obviously can’t see Toheeb Jimoh leaving the cast before the show finishes, but at the same time this offer is so good for him?? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

(If, on the other hand, Toheeb is being written out because he’s going on to star as a lead in another show where we could see more of his beautiful face and stellar acting every week? I would find that acceptable.)

Screeners’ reactions for this episode had me thinking something cataclysmic and dreadful was going to happen between Sam and Rebecca with them reuniting and it hitting the papers - and it ended up being fine?? Of course she’s torn about him leaving. Even if they end up never being together again Sam clearly represents something wonderful to Rebecca - possibility and the sense of being treated right - and those feelings don’t just go away.

I expected a bit more reaction from Ted about the whole Sambecca thing, but that little look in his eyes after their conversation did have me curious - does he disapprove more than he lets on? is he secretly pining for Rebecca already? only time will tell. also I did notice Ted was once again basically saying whatever Rebecca wanted to hear and agreeing at every single line - he might be going to therapy but he’s not out of the people-pleaser woods yet.

Another bombshell next year? OH COME ON. If that’s not a prediction of some sort of confession of love I will go out and buy a hat just to eat it.

SHARON. How I am going to miss thee. But it was a lovely and understated farewell to a character that I’ve really come to love - Sexy Mother Fucker; he stole my move, yaas - showing how much she and Ted have helped each other grow and I just *tear*. Also I’m a Tedbecca shipper through and through, but Jason and Sarah do have such lovely chemistry together.

Also the pub regulars basically pleading for free therapy? Aww.

Higgins luring Ted back to read Sharon’s note with a well-chosen letter based pun? I love this man to the ends of the earth.

I FUCKING KNEW THAT HIGGINS KNEW EVERYONE’S BIRTHDAY. I PREDICTED THAT SHIT.

Roy and Keeley…I’m sorry, I’m emotional and anxious and hopeful and I do not think they’re going to break up. Relationships go through messy spots and people struggle, and the mark of a good, communicative, grown-up relationship is that you take time and discuss your issues and move past them. Keeley and Roy’s relationship has always been characterised by that maturity, and I just don’t see a couple of ill-timed romance confessions breaking that down.

(If anything, we might get a discussion from Roy about Keeley trusting him - I’m guessing there’s a fair bit of time lapsed between Jamie’s confession and her telling all to Roy, and I can see that being the sticking point that upsets Roy, that she hid this from him for some time. He clearly didn’t feel at all upset by what happened with Nate; it’s the - arguably fair - point that Keeley didn’t let him know that her ex confessed love for her that I think is going to be the issue.)

Also, the ‘are you married’ question - coupled with the fact that we keep seeing Roy on his knees in front of Keeley - makes me think we’re going to get a proposal next episode.

Also I love that we’re seeing more of Keeley’s psyche beyond the ‘cute and supports everyone’ façade - her mother’s experience with ambition and not being able to achieve it is a really interesting little snippet, not to mention the reason she bonds so much with Nate and is able to see how someone seemingly ‘undeserving’ should be able to realise their dreams.

also her and Rebecca’s ‘bleargggggh!’ competition! and Ted thinking he was going to be on the cover of Vanity Fair! return of Biscuits with the Boss!

ok, deep breaths now

NAAAAAATE

WHAT ARE YOU DOOIIIIIIING

Is it bad that I sort of liked the whole thing with Keeley? Not in a ‘yes I want this to happen’ sort of way, but because it makes so much sense that Nate (particularly Nate in his current state) might mistake that level of bonding and emotional support as something romantic. We know Nate is insecure and hasn’t had much of a social life in the past, and that he idealises Keeley for her basic kindness and decency: much like Jamie in 2x10, he’s mistaking Keeley’s kindness as something more…it’s absolutely gutting to watch, and also so human and real that I can’t help but take my hat off to the writers for it.

(Honestly, there’s been so many posts on tumblr about how toxic masculinity fucks men over to such an extent that when they receive kindness and friendship for a woman they immediately think romance - but yeah. this show does tick all the boxes.)

I did see the kiss moment coming a mile away and was really worried that Nate was going to be…uh, very entitled about it, given his current state, but the fact that he wasn’t - that he was immediately horrified and realised he’d fucked up and stumbles away muttering about how he ‘is worried about it’ and ends the scene spitting at himself in the mirror again and looking absolutely disgusted with himself - well, in a way that just hurt more. (I mean, I’m relieved Nate wasn’t all bolshy with it because his reaction does show there is still some of the old Nate still there…but still, owch.)

And then that text from Trent…

Next episode is going to hurt like hell, isn’t it? I absolutely cannot wait for the showdown between Nate and Ted, it’s been a long time coming…like I’ve said, while I think ultimately Nate is going to have a redemption arc, because thematically it makes sense and would send some pretty iffy messages if he doesn’t, I don’t think it’ll come until season three. Right now I just want to see Ted get angry after several seasons of suppressing his anger, I want a full-blown emotional hash-out between them both - basically I want Jason and Nick to have me sobbing before 9AM.

My one question is: are we going to see Nate realising what he’s done, or not? Was this a pragmatic, doing-this-for-the-sake-of-the-club betrayal or a blind, lashing-out-in-frustration betrayal? In short: is Nate Lando or Anakin in this scenario?

I’m very curious as to what show people who say this ‘came out of nowhere’ have been watching. Nate’s been heading for some sort of implosion since mid-season, and we all knew it was going to hurt some innocent bystanders.

I’m saving something light and cheery after all the angst, so let me just say: cinema has never surpassed, and will never surpass, the scene of the Richmond boys dancing along to Bye Bye Bye. Almost made up for the fact that they were criminally underused in the rest of the episode, and quite frankly this had better be redressed in the season finale.

and WE FINALLY SAW COLIN DRIVING THE LAMBO. I don’t know what I find funnier: the fact that it’s some neon lime green monstrosity that every fourteen-year old boy would have dreamt of owning growing up (should my new Colin tag be Colin ‘I Need To Rethink My Relationship With My Car’ Hughes, or Colin ‘More Money Than Sense’ Hughes? enquiring minds want to know…) or as was pointed out to me by @kamillahn, the look of absolute terror on Colin’s face as he begins to drive. Colin, hun, please just buy yourself a Fiat. It’s not worth it anymore.

[alliluyevas]

(deeply disturbing) mormon primary source adventures continue...I have been reading the 1843 diary of William Clayton, Joseph Smith’s official church secretary and close personal friend, which is a really invaluable source for contemporary details regarding when Smith married various women (he did not record anything about his own marriages in his journal, but Clayton did).

What I was specifically tracking in Clayton’s journal was the (much more extensive) documentation of Clayton’s own plural marriage, to his first wife Ruth’s younger sister, 23-year-old Margaret Moon. I have bolded a few lines for emphasis.

27 April 1843, Thursday

At the Temple A.M. went to prests. [Church President Joseph Smith’s] who rode with me to bro. H.C. Kimballs where sister Margt. Moon was sealed up [married] by the priesthood, by the president--and M to me.

11 June 1843, Sunday

Margaret received a letter from Aaron [Farr, her fiance, who had left on a mission trip before she married Clayton] which  made her feel bad. It also gave me unaccountable sorrow.

13 June 1843, Tuesday 

I have had some conversation  with M. she promised she would not marry A if she can possibly avoid  it. And if she ever feels disposed to marry she will tell me as soon as she thinks of it. She will seek my Council & says she will abide it.

8 July 1843, Saturday 

Margt. wrote a letter to Aaron which I dictated informing him that she should not marry.

22 July 1843, Saturday

Mt. and A [Aaron Farr, now returned from his mission] had a long conversation together. She has stood true to her covenant with CW. [William Clayton’s initials backwards] I also  had some talk with him & although the shock is severe he endures it patiently. And I pray the Great Eloheem to make up the loss to him an  hundred fold and enable him to rejoice in all things. My heart aches with grief on his & M's account and could almost say O that I had never known her. But Thou O God knowest the integrity of thy servant. Thou knowest that I have done that which I have understood to be thy will & am still determined to do so and I ask thee in the name of  Jesus Christ either to absolutely wean my affections from M. or give me hers entire and then I am content. But to live in this state of feeling I cannot.

If I have done wrong in this thing, show it me that thy servant may repent of it and obtain forgiveness. But O Lord have mercy on me and by some means release me from this grievous bondage of  feeling & thy servant will praise thee. Prest. Joseph came to see me &  pronounced a sealing blessing upon Ruth [Clayton’s first and legal wife] and me. And we mutually entered into an everlasting covenant with each other.

23 July 1843, Sunday

M. appears dissatisfied with her situation & is miserable O that the Lord will bless my house and deliver us from every evil principle & feeling that we may be saved. For I desire to do right. O Lord make my heart and my affections right and pure as it shall please thee that I may enjoy the blessing of peace and happiness even so Amen. Hyrum preached A.M and Joseph P.M. Evening I had some more talk with M. & find she is miserable which makes me doubly so. I offered to her to try to have her covenant released if she desired it  but she said she was not willing. [Margaret was pregnant by this time, which is probably why she did not feel she could be released from her marriage to Clayton.]

24 July 1843, Monday

M. is still miserable and unhappy and it does seem that  my heart must burst. What shall I do? How shall I recompense? And how long must I thus suffer worse than death for that which I have always  regarded as being the will of the Lord. By the help of the Lord I will  do right. I have repeatedly offered to M. to try to get a release from  the covenant and I have done all I know to make things comfortable but  to no effect. She appears almost to hate me and cannot bear to come near me.

O God if thou wilt give me M's affections, and cause things  to be pleasant and happy between us, If thou will bless her & comfort  her by thy spirit & cause her to rejoice in what she has done, and  bring it to pass that I may secure her truly with all her affections  for time & for eternity. I feel to covenant to try to serve thee with  more diligence if possible and to do all that thou shalt require at  mine hands, wilt thou not grant me this blessing, and relieve my  aching heart from this worst of all troubles which ever befel me in  the course of my life? O God plead my cause and give me thine  everlasting blessing, and do remember M. for good that she may be  comforted even so amen amen and amen

25 July 1843, Tuesday.

M. much as usual.

26 July 1843, Wednesday

M. seems quite embittered against me in consequence  of which I called her to me and asked her if she desired the covenant  to be revoked if it were possible To this she would not give me a  satisfactory answer only saying if it had not been done it should not  be. (meaning our union) I then asked if she would consent if A would take her under all circumstances; but she would not consent to have it  revoked--saying she did it not for her sake but for the sake of the  peace of my family.

Under these circumstances I could not rest until I  had ascertained wether the c[ovenant] could be revoked & although contrary to  her wish I went to see Prest. J. I took A to talk with him & asked him  some questions whereby I ascertained that he would be willing to take  her under all circumstances, I reasoned considerable with him to prove  that I had done right in all these matters so far as I knew it, I called the Prest. out and briefly stated the situation of things and  then asked him if the C. could be revoked. He shook his head and  answered no. At this conclusion my mind seemed for the moment to get relief for the two fold reason that I had done all I could and I did not want the C. revoked.

I came back & M & A. were together in Farrs garden. I told them the answer I had got & advised them to take the  best measures to make all things right between them. I cannot help thinking that M. has treated me not only unkindly but meanly & cruelly, but I forgive her before the Lord for I sympathize with her  in her grief, but cant console her for she will not speak to me. My  earnest prayer to God is that all things may soon become right & pleasant & that the Lord may bless her & save her from sinning against  him. And if I have done wrong in asking if the C. could be revoked &  seeking to have it done O Lord forgive me for I desire to do right in  all things that I may he saved, I feel that I have done right in the  sight of God and that he has abundantly blessed me for which I thank  him and something tells me that the time will come when M. will love those whom she ought & when she will feel perfectly satisfied with her situation & rejoice that things remain as they are. And now O God  bless thy servant and handmaid & stamp the peace upon us and fill us  with the spirit of truth for Jesus Christs sake Amen--

11 August 1843, Friday

J. told me to day that ``Walker'' had been speaking to him concerning my having taken M away from A. & intimated that I had done wrong. I told him to be quiet and say no more about it. He also told me Emma  was considerably displeased with it but says he she will soon get over  it. In the agony of mind which I have endured on this subject I said I  was sorry I had done it, at which J told me not to say so. I finally  asked him if I had done wrong in what I had done he answered no you have a right to get all you can.

The little snippets of Margaret’s feelings and the way they are sort of bracketed by Clayton’s commentary are really telling and disturbing. Poor Margaret :( Also the way that Joseph Smith is encouraging Clayton not to feel guilty about any of this and justifying it to him. Woof.

[theskeletonprior]

Find the Word

Thank you @aschlindartroom​ for the tag! My words are: touch, target, took, time, teach, and tough. These snippets all come from RAVENOT, which is about the adventures of an immortal skeleton knight and their companion, Senai.

The words I have for you are: lost, lip, link, little, limbs, and like.

If you are reading this, you are tagged. And you are welcome to tag me in response!

Touch

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Ah, thou’rt not the first to say so.” “What’s the trumpet for?” “’Tis for battle.” Ravenot took the long trumpet off their back, holding it out so that the child could see, though they did not move from their spot, lest she try to touch. It had been with him for many centuries now, and they knew its blackened silver as well as the gauntlets on their hands.

Target

From the foot of the tower, she could not see the figure in the road, which was somehow even more uncomfortable than having spotted them from so far off. She felt a sick throbbing through all her joints, and a shortness of breath that almost made her signal to Ravenot that they should stop. But there was something else, a single-minded determination that drove her, and drove this stranger on the road. Instinctively, she used it to force herself to keep up. “There’s an impulse,” she said. “And it’s very strong… It’s pulling on me.” “Close thine eye. Control the connection. And if I bid thee go, run for the watchtower. Canst do that?” “Yes,” Senai nodded, slowing her pace and covering her pale eye with one hand. She needed more space between herself and this… threat? It was, so far, only a feeling. Like a bowstring pulled taut. If only they knew the target…

Time

“We must wait. I might sit awhile in one of the common places and see who will speak with me. Or, perchance, I might seek permission to tend the garden. ‘Tis rare that I’ve the time to pull up weeds.”

“It suits you,” said Senai. “I never would have thought.”

“In all the tales of my exploits, there is nothing written of the little earth I’ve tilled, hm?” Ravenot’s bones gave a soft, creaking sort of sound, which Senai had learned to interpret as a sigh. “That, too, have I no doubt done my share of in the time before I took on the mask,” he said. “’Tis merely that the records make no mention of it. Or it may be, I suppose, those records were not among those that you have read.” Ravenot’s tone was hopeful, and as that eyeless gaze levelled itself on Senai, she wondered how put out he would have been, had she been able to read every extensive account of his deeds, and found no mention of his fondness for pulling up thistles.

Teach

“And all’s well, with you?” Ravenot asked with a hesitance that Meredith remembered from the last time he’d seen them. It always struck him as if Ravenot were peering in through a doorway, not quite bold enough to step all the way in. But that was the nature of his work. To avoid all attachment, so as never to be bought into the service of those who would bend death to evil ends. “Well enough,” Meredith said. “Lake’s healthy, and I like to think I’m still spry enough to stay on it awhile longer yet. No one’s started trying to convince me to teach some young pup how to handle an oar, at any rate. Might just be waiting me out, let me get tired enough to ask someone else to do the rowing. Though we’ve still got Erryn. And Asher, who you’ve not met. They’ll be sore to have missed you.” “I may tarry some while,” Ravenot said, “our paths may cross, yet.”

Tough Rough

Curiously, this word does not appear in this particular WIP. I therefore offer rough instead.

At last, they reached the circular chamber which housed a simple slab of pale grey stone, rough and unpolished, where two masks not unlike Ravenot’s own were displayed, each with its own bell and blade and trumpet. There were thuribles, too, which smoked gently, always coming alight in time to greet the Unmade, though no one had come down to light them.

[voidcat]

Scaramouche slowly becoming attached to someone be doesn't realize isn't the perfect picture of innocence? That's my fucking shit right there you have no idea, the amount of gender euphoria that little snippet induced into me is spiralling into brainrot and I thank thee kindly for that. If you have any, any at all, other thoughts pertaining to that dynamic I am begging you to share them, I am starved for quality scaramouche and you are delivering so much.

AHAHHAHAH thank you

with his story and personality (or lack of it...) i find him p interesting to experiment with.

in my last drabble it wasnt as much of "being attached to someone he doesnt realize to be the perfect picture of innocence" but more of a,,, hm how do i put it

how bc of his origins as a being, he sees humans as inferior. but also everything to humans he deems to make them weaker, he must be yearning for those too (to belong, to be able to feel the emotions people write about and so on) so having allowing someone to be around him, but perhaps realizing too late that the person is in fact, as much of a shell of a person as he is, that the very human he wished to witness, they lack a part of it too.

it'd surely be a shock for him. well good news scara, some things you were insecure about are the very things that makes humans human but also bad news... bc, well... no need to explain lmao

its still early for me rn so i dont have much to offer further on this dynamic ;-; i think i need to divert my focus more on work/studies and less on the gremlin for a while.

but i think he would weirdly find comfort in mc, for making him accept the fact that humans can be a little lke him (though not to the same level of intensity) it'd be too late by the time he would come to realize and before he knows, he would be a puppet again, wrapped around a finger, he would refuse to yield but secretly harbor that weak spot. you've been with him for so long now, know so much, more than anyone else in his life (besides ei and yae) ever did. how can you understand so much of this, so much of him and still... go on, how do you keep living knowing your days are numbered? it'd slowly grow into something fascinating to observe for him, and soon enough with the constant observations, comes the attachment, the growing used to your presence. it's no longer just him, he is not the only flawed one, deeply screwed, a shell desperate for a true name so he gives himself one, what does he enjoy truly, what does he like and dislike? so much he had to experiment to discover the simplest of things and would you look at that, maybe he is not, never was, alone in this...

[witchwood-inn]

Irish Folk Magic

Just wanted to share some bits and pieces of irish folk magic that I’ve been collecting! I’ve adapted some ideas for modern practices! I’ve referenced Ancient Cures, Charms and Usages of Ireland by Lady Wilde for this collection! More to come soon.

🌿The Hazel, Rowan, Willow and Yew trees were the most sacred trees in Ireland. The Hazel tree banishes and wards evil spirits, witches and demons. A stick made out of Hazel cut on Bealtaine morning can be used to cast circles to protect against them.

🌿The Rowan tree is very protective, and hanging a branch over your door keeps evil spirits and evil hands away. (Great for witches ladders and protects against hexes and curses)

🌿A stick of Blackthorn can banish unwanted spirits or demons.

🌿Mix 9 pinches of dried mountain moss with 9 pinches of hearth ash. This mixture is said to help against inflammation (Maybe add it to a poppet in the inflamed area or to spell sachets/ jars for healing purposes)

🌿Healing charm:

“May thou be healed in blood, marrow and bone. And may the (issue) die in thee in the name of (your deity/ god of healing) So it shall be!”

🌿A horse tooth rubbed on the jaw is said to ease toothaches, or carried in your pocket to protect against toothaches. (I’d say a horse tooth as a spell ingredient can help with issues of the mouth like public speaking, interviews etc)

🌿A horse shoe cleansed with fire (made red hot) then tied up over the entrance to your home is said to protect against bad luck. It must never be taken down. The horse shoe also protects against the Sidhe (Fairies) and witchcraft.

🌿Lusmore (Foxglove), vervain and mountain ash are good against witchcraft (breaking hexes/ curses etc) Vervain is best gathered on the rising of the Dog-Star (Sirius). Offer fruit and honey to the earth in return.

🌿Spiders tied up in a bag and carried with you wards off illness.

🌿The bones of a black cat can render you invisible, if the bone appears invisible in a mirror. (Perhaps a black cat bone can be useful in glamours to draw attention away from you) Black cat hair also wards evil spirits and witchcraft (hexes, curses)

🌿Honey, Milk and a pinch of salt drunk from a sea shell was said to be the cure for madness. (If you enchant this drink to help with emotional imbalances/ irrational thoughts etc it could be useful!)

🌿Wolf skin worn around the body as a girdle wards illness. (Wolf hair could be used in protection sachets/ jars against illness)

🌿The cure for deafness (perhaps for boosting clairaudience) Take cowslip roots, blossom and leaves- clean them well and bruise/press them in a linen cloth. Add honey and store in a bottle. Rub on the ears when needed (you could probably eat a spoon full or take it as a tea too)

🌿If you feel that someone is giving you the evil eye, say at once “The curse be upon thine eye”. The evil eye is cast strongest on Bealtaine. To cure the evil eye, drink holy water. (Moon/ sun water created on May Eve/ Bealtaine)

🌿Finding a 4 leafed clover brings you luck in all things, so long as you never show the clover to anyone else.

🌿It’s lucky to cut your hair on the new moon!

🌿Milk is often given as an offering to the Sidhe (the fae), in hopes that they will not disturb the home. The offering is left on dressers or by the hearth at night. But never give away milk, butter or fire on Bealtaine for it could mean you give away your luck.

🌿Primroses placed on the threshold (by your door) keep the Sidhe away.

I hope these little snippets of irish folk magic is useful to you! I’ll probably write more once I research more! Thanks for reading.

[dwellordream]

“The plasticity of the notion of reading meant that it represented the medium through which middle-class Victorian girls passed many hours, but it did not bring a uniform message. Like their parents and advisers, adolescent girls who were writing about reading were of two minds. On the one hand, as William Thayer put it, reading could be a way of demonstrating rectitude and diligence; on the other, it could be a route to indolence and the shirking of responsibilities.

Mary Thomas, away at school in Georgia in 1873, suggested these dual meanings of reading as she imagined a newly virtuous domesticity for herself upon returning home: ‘‘I will sew and read all the time, I am not going out any where, but intend to stay at home and work all the time; no matter how interesting a book may be, I will put it down and do whatever I am asked to do, they shall no longer accuse me of being lazy and good for nothing, I will work all day.’’ In its contrast to engaging in a social whirl of visiting and flirtation, reading, like sewing, represented a becoming and modest domesticity. However, reading might also subvert good intentions, and tempt a girl to inattention to, or even disobedience of, the demands of others or of household work. In any case, reading had a meaning for the self, as well as for the family and the culture.

Reading good books was of course a way of demonstrating virtue. Measured reading of improving texts was part of the regimen of many Victorian girls. As advisers suggested, the reading of history was especially praiseworthy. When Nellie Browne returned home from school in 1859, her mother noted in her diary with pride, ‘‘Nellie begins to read daily Eliot’s History of the United States,’’ a parentally encouraged discipline which would both improve and occupy Nellie now that her school days were over.

Jessie Wendover, the daughter of a prosperous Newark grocer and another regular diarist, recorded a steady diet of history in her journal, justifying her summer vacation in 1888 with the reading of a two-volume History of the Queens of England, as well as doing a little Latin and some arithmetic. The popular British domestic novelist Charlotte Yonge wrote her History of Germany specifically for readers like Jessie Wendover, who began it the following year. What American girl readers took from the history they read is hard to ascertain, because unlike their rapt reports on novels, they recorded their history as achievement rather than illumination.

One can certainly appreciate the irony, though, in encouraging girls to read accounts of national travails, the stories of armies, wars, and dynastic succession, which were ennobled partly by their distance from girls’ real lives. One of the advantages of history seemed to be that girls could be expected to have no worrisome practical interest in it—in marked contrast to the reading of romances or novels.

Victorian girls could build character through a variety of other literary projects, prime among them the memorizing of poetry. Over the course of the late nineteenth century, the publishing industry issued a number of collections of snippets of poetry known as ‘‘memory gems,’’ designed for memorization by schoolchildren. The verse in these anthologies was to serve as ‘‘seed-thoughts’’ for earnest young Victorians aspiring to know the best, and these were the likely sources for many of the couplets which appear in girls’ diaries and scrapbooks.

Margaret Tileston’s daily diary, recorded religiously for her entire life, both fed and celebrated a variety of literary disciplines, including most prominently reading and memorizing poetry. She too read histories during the summer, along with keeping up with her other studies, noting one July day following her graduation from Salem High School that she had ‘‘read my usual portions of Macaulay [a 40-page allotment] and French, but only a few pages of Spencer.’’ Margaret Tileston also read advice literature, such as Mary Livermore’s What Shall We Do with Our Daughters? and two books by Samuel Smiles, Self-Help and Duty. (The latter she described as looking ‘‘quite interesting and full of anecdotes.’’) Margaret Tileston’s diaries suggest a life consumed with the rewards of self-culture.

At fifteen, however, she recorded a brush with another literary genre and mode of striving—a seeking not only for mastery of the will but for beauty itself. Poetry first appeared simply as a verse of romantic poetry copied on the page: ‘‘Why thus longing thus forever sighing, for the far-off, unattained, and dim, while the beautiful, all round thee lying, offers up its low, perpetual hymn.’’ Margaret Tileston was now away at girls’ school, where she had experienced something of an emotional awakening in the intense atmosphere of schoolgirl friendships.

Her turn to poetry seems to reflect the new culture in which she was briefly submerged. That summer, back with her family on vacation on the Massachusetts coast, Tileston again turned to poetry, and to beauty, in an uncharacteristic passage of effusion. ‘‘The moon was perfectly lovely in the sky and its light on the water. We quoted lines of poetry, and it was beautiful.’’ By January of the next year, however, poetry had been incorporated into her disciplines of order and accomplishment. After returning from boarding school, she had moved with her family from the farm where she had spent her formative years to the town of Salem, where she attended the local high school. There she embarked on another campaign of self-improvement, the memorization of poetry, perhaps as a strategy to gain control of alien surroundings.

Two months later she described a new discipline: the daily ritual repetition of all the poems she had learned, of which there were by then 111. On May 25 she reported that her extraordinary ability to memorize poetry was gaining her a reputation. ‘‘Miss Perry asked me if I knew about 250 poems. She said that one of the Goodhue girls had told her I did. I remarked something of the sort to Miss Perkins one day in recess, and somehow it was repeated.’’ By the end of July she noted that she was beginning to have trouble finding new poems to learn because she knew so many already.

Appreciation of the beauty of poetry had dropped out of her journal. Nor did she suggest that the poetry had any meaning to her at all. Yet she very likely gained some of the satisfactions from poetry expressed by Louisa May Alcott, some years before. After disobeying her mother, at the age of eleven, Alcott ‘‘cried, and then I felt better, and said that piece from Mrs. Sigourney, ‘I must not tease my mother.’’’ She went on, ‘‘I get to sleep saying poetry,—I know a great deal.’’ For those feeling guilty, sad, misunderstood, or wronged, repeat- ing lines of elevating poetry had an effect in a secular mode analagous to the saying of ritual Hail Marys. The verses established an alliance with a higher authority and suggested personal participation in a glorious and tragic human struggle.

And in fact, poetry, even more than history, was the prototypical idealist genre. In 1851 the British educational pioneers Maria Grey and Emily Shirreff proposed the reading of poetry rather than fiction, explaining the crucial distancing effect of poetic subjects. ‘‘In a poem, the wildest language of passion, though it may appeal to the feelings, is generally called forth in circumstances remote from the experience of the reader.’’ They suggested that in poetry there was a higher truth than that of superficial realism: ‘‘The grand conceptions of the poet are true in ideal beauty.’’

Writing fifty years later, Harriet Paine too suggested that poetry had generic qualities of elevation. ‘‘After all, in poetry itself what we read is not the important thing. We should read poetry to give us a certain attitude of mind, a habit of thinking of noble things, of keeping our spirit in harmony with beauty and goodness and strength and love.’’ Earlier Paine had commended the memorization of poetry as neces- sary to ‘‘take in the full meaning,’’ suggesting just such a regular regimen of repetition as Tileston had pursued. The spiritual rewards from internalizing poetry were revealed by Paine’s proposal that it take place on the Sabbath: ‘‘Surely we must give a part of every Sunday to such elevating study.’’

Elizabeth Barrett Browning had censured poets for their historical escapism in her 1857 poem Aurora Leigh, arguing Their sole work is to represent the age, Their age, not Charlemagne’s—this live, throbbing age, That brawls, cheats, maddens, calculates, aspires. Yet it was in just its remoteness from ‘‘this live, throbbing age,’’ just in the ‘‘togas and the picturesque’’ disparaged by Browning that poetry was considered so appropriate for girl readers.

…If reading presented an opportunity to discover national allies, to demonstrate private virtue, and to suggest the triumph of the will against ennui or boredom, it increasingly endorsed another way of defining life: the excitement and the exercise of the feelings. Girls who read their daily allowance of Macaulay or the Bible with pride and self-satisfaction upbraided themselves for their difficulties in controlling their insatiable appetites for Victorian novels of all kinds. Reading for leisure or for pleasure invariably meant reading for ‘‘sensation,’’ reading for adventure, excitement, identification, titillation. In the process of this kind of reading, Victorian girls ministered to a complex of emotions.

…Perhaps leisure reading can best be defined by what it was not: study, sleep, or sewing. Girls chastised themselves for imperfectly learning their lessons, and sometimes blamed the distractions of leisure reading. Martha Moore, who had just begun to attend school in occupied New Orleans during the Civil War, confessed that she found the schoolwork hard and had had two crying spells before she ‘‘picked up an interesting story and with my old habit of procrastination, thought I would read that first, and then study.’’

She observed the inevitable consequence ‘‘that my lessons are very imperfectly known.’’ And even Margaret Tileston, whose discipline seldom allowed her to swerve from duty, could be seduced by light reading. At the age of fourteen: ‘‘I scarcely studied in my history at all, because I was interested in ‘Sir Gibbie,’ and wanted to finish reading it.’’ At the age of seventeen: ‘‘I undertook to spend the afternoon and evening on my Ancient History, but my thoughts wandered and I spent some time on papers and magazines.’’ At the age of twenty: ‘‘I did not study a great deal in evening, on account of my interest in my novel, but I read over my History lesson.’’

Girls also resolved to prevent reading from interfering with their domestic chores, usually their needlework. Treating reading as recreation, Virginian Agnes Lee observed, ‘‘I really am so idle I must be more industrious but it is so hard when one is reading or playing to stop to practice or sew.’’ Another Virginian, Lucy Breckinridge, set up a similar opposition, noting that she and her sisters had gathered together in her room ‘‘being industrious. I am getting over my unsocial habit of sitting in my room reading all day.’’ For Lucy Breckinridge private reading not only was not industrious, it was also antisocial.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Reading as the Development of Taste.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

[aiden-png]

to celebrate the end of 2020, I’ve decided to share the highlights of the writing I did this year! I’m going to share a few of my favorite snippets from 2020, and I think this could be a fun tag meme to invite friends to join in on so they can appreciate their progress and hard work too! I couldn’t have written so much if it wasn’t for the great online community supporting me and all my wonderfully talented friends!!

I’m gonna tag @freshie-writes @silverdragon-imagines-blog @st0rmy-writes @fuckit-hero-of-trains @no-themes-just-memes @timeturner-jay and anyone else who wants to join in, feel free! you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but you all wrote amazing things this year and I’m gonna appreciate you for them!!

snippets below the cut (please do this or make a new post if you wanna join, just so we don’t flood everyone’s dashboard lol!)

it’s difficult to count for certain, but across 7 google docs from April to December 2020, I wrote 324,782 words just of Legend of Zelda fanfic! it’s been a crazy fun year and I think my writing has improved a ton since I started writing fic again in April! thank you all for supporting me through the last 9 months!! <3

here’s a highlight of some of my favorite excerpts from fics I wrote this year! Smoke on the Wind and Dream With Me are two of my favorite pieces I wrote this year for angst, while Four Feet of Pure Flirtation and Lessons in Love are my favorites for crack/fluff :D the other snippets are featured bc I’m proud of how the fics turned out !

Dream With Me: June 28, 2020 Legend and Hyrule sat on the beach, a mere two feet separating them. It felt like much more. Farther than they’d ever been apart before. The other heroes stumbled onto the sand, frozen in shock as they took in the scene before them. Legend, knife drawn and hands shaking dangerously. Hyrule, knees buried in the sand and hands held over his chest, trying desperately not to reach out again. The sun was rising, pinks disappearing into vibrant gold and crushed purple and bright blue. As dawn broke, their vision wavered. Hyrule gasped, Legend blurring before him, the sand beneath him fading, the roar of the waves diminishing. Magic hour was ending. “This isn’t a dream,” Hyrule whispered, and Legend’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. “I’m real. I’m here. Legend, come with me.” Hyrule stretched out his arm, fingers splayed, eyes begging. Legend flinched back, dagger slipping from shaking fingers. He stared, disbelieving. Vertigo consumed Hyrule’s senses, his vision clouding with black dots. “Take my hand, Legend!” Hyrule cried, and Legend jumped. He sprung forward, hand grasping. Hyrule felt nothing as Legend’s hand passed through his. “Hyrule!” He blinked, and found himself in an unfamiliar field, reaching towards sunrise.

Smoke on the Wind: August 7, 2020 Wind hadn’t always had this ability, but before his second adventure, before the ghosts became tangible to his skin and visible to his eyes, he still had a sixth sense of sorts to rely on. Back then he’d called it instinct, but now he called it a curse. It never helped him do better on his adventure, never showed him the way, never allowed him to prevent someone’s demise--only forced him to bear witness to it in all its excruciatingly gory detail. Some spoke of death like a mercy, others like a boon. Wind knew death like an old friend and he despised it with all the rage contained in his tiny body. Some feared death, some prayed for its delay. Wind feared no man, god, or figment of imagination. There was no reason to fear something he couldn’t prevent, there was no reason to pray to something that would never hear or listen. Some ran from death, some hid. Wind stared death in the eye and spat in its face. He thrust a magical fucking sword through its head and banished it to a watery grave.

Four Feet of Pure Flirtation: June 26, 2020 Maybe he should have shared just a tad bit more with them, but that was a regret for future Four to deal with. And really, he hadn’t been expecting it himself, so they couldn’t exactly blame him when Dark Link materialized in their camp one morning and sent Four’s heart racing in an unfamiliar-familiar way. Four felt the heat crawl up his chest, felt his tongue loosen, felt his eyes trail over Dark’s lithe form just a bit too slow to be innocent. No one had told him Dark was attractive. Although, Vio reminded him, we are the only ones attracted to villains. We are most decidedly not! Four shot back. The denial was empty. They most decidedly were.

Hero Through the Ages: June 19, 2020 Wild sighed, chin resting on his knees. He glanced over at Sky, feeling anxiety buzz within him as a question pushed at the back of his mind. “Hey, Sky… does the sword still recognize me?” Sky froze at the unexpected question, eyes searching Wild’s carefully schooled expression. Wild felt his anxiety rise but he held his ground as the older hero tentatively reached back and unsheathed the Master Sword. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Wild tried hard not to notice the new eyes on them as he waited for Sky’s response. He knew what the answer should be, but when the other slowly opened his eyes and held the sword out for Wild, it was still conflicting to feel the familiar weight of it in his hands. Not too heavy. Not burning. Perfectly at home, as if he’d just begun his adventure and still had many years left before the Calamity struck. Wild felt a pit in his stomach as he handed the sword back, Sky’s concerned gaze not helping. “How old were you when you pulled the sword?” Sky asked quietly, and Wild stared at his hands as they trembled slightly in his lap. “Too young.”

A Shower to Remember: July 4, 2020 Enter Twilight and Wild. TWILIGHT     I can see thee up th’re.     Come hither.     I simply wish to speak with thee.

Enter Legend to Shower Crashers. LEGEND     all’s well that ends well, I believe our plan hath been a success. cheers to thee all. FOUR     didst thou not see     Wild running     for his life not     a minute past? LEGEND     that is’t his problem, not mine.

Lessons in Love: July 9, 2020 The offer though, that’s what truly made Legend pause. Show you the ropes, he’d said. He should be insulted that Ravio thought he was that hopeless, but the man wasn’t wrong. Legend was absolutely, positively hopeless, evidenced by the situation he now found himself in. Should he say no and move on? Should he accept--and then what? Maybe he should laugh it off, say he was joking, or perhaps he should come clean now and tell Ravio how he felt? But he still didn’t know if Ravio felt the same, those dark eyes betraying nothing in the fading light of sunset. So, naturally, Legend continued to panic. “What do you mean by ‘show me the ropes’?” Legend asked, quick, defensive enough to pass as insulted. Ravio snorted, tasting the hot chocolate, and Legend’s eyes were drawn to his lips once more as if under a spell. “I mean no offense, Link,” Ravio laughed, seeming not to catch the blush on Legend’s face as Ravio used his name. “I just figured you might want some pointers. Flirting, hand holding, relationship advice, y’know? You don’t have to accept the offer by any means!” Flirting? Hand holding? Legend gulped. He was already an idiot. Maybe he could play dumb for a little while longer…

Scars: June 2, 2020 “I used to try and cover myself in public--I didn’t like the way people would whisper or stare when they saw. But eventually I came to accept the scars as part of me. I remembered how I got them, and I realized I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the journey that led to me getting these scars. And I like who I am…” Wild trailed off, sifting sand through his fingers as Warriors listened. “I’ve come to love my scars, because they hold such important memories for me. Even if some of the memories aren’t so great, I wouldn’t be who I am today without them, you know? And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Beneath the Surface: July 13, 2020 For the first few months he had lied to himself, blaming the others or the weather or Shadow or Vaati or anything rather than admitting he had a problem. But Blue did, in fact, have a problem, and fighting and yelling it out wasn’t the healthiest solution. For the others it was easy. Green had Vio, for Wind could rarely move Earth, and Red got along with everyone he was so full of love to give. But Blue wasn’t good at teamwork, he wasn’t good at strategizing, and he wasn’t good at showing affection--he was good at being angry, and that was it. He was the protector, the toughest of them all in strength and will; but when you’re always protecting others, no one protects you. Not like Blue made it easy for the others to approach him, and he didn���t blame them for giving up. They were all struggling, they all had their own issues, and while Wind was a gentle breeze and Fire a warming comfort and Earth a steady rock--Water was impossible to hold down. He was forever changing, flowing, and while it meant that he could adapt well to new situations, it also meant that every time he felt close to getting a handle on his emotions they would slip from his grasp once more. His magic ebbed and swayed and his emotions followed their tide, not his, and so he pushed others away rather than admit he couldn’t handle himself. If protecting them meant distancing himself, then so be it.

The Point of No Return: June 19, 2020 He turned back to Four, brushing the back of his hand across his cheek. He’d wanted to share a meal with his partner. He’d wanted to see Four’s small smile--just for him--as he tried Hylian food for the first, second, hundredth time. Long ago, they’d promised to travel the world together. Four wanted to share everything with him; wanted to show him the forge, wanted him to meet his Grandfather, wanted to take him to see the Minish. After the adventure, Four had promised. He’d be free to go and do whatever he wanted, right by Four’s side. Well, he was at his side now. And this was not what they’d promised each other.

A Major Test of Strength: May 7, 2020 Even being worthy of the Triforce of Courage didn’t mean he was brave enough to act on, or even think, about how he felt about Sidon. He reasoned it was better not to say anything, especially now. He was going off to a battle he may not return from. Even if he burned to know if Sidon felt the same, it would be selfish to ask knowing he may be leaving for the last time. Link would rather go to the grave with his feelings then leave Sidon alone with them. At least if he died before confessing, Sidon would be able to move on, he hoped. Sidon was his best friend, and that was enough for now.