#(that’s going to be a whole different hell because my reading and writing are higher than my speaking in Portuguese to a stupid degree)

[waugh-bao]

*

[nadvs]

hi I’m current obsessed with swte universe 😭

would you write a blurb showing us how rafe and the reader dealt with the pregnancy? Specially after finding out it was twins. Like her mood changes and how Rafe dealt with all of that. Oh and if you could also show us about the day the babies were born 🥹🎉

omg thank you so much 🥹 yes of course!! i wrote a little pregnancy blurb and will do the birth story separately 🥰

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe is already protective as hell. but when he finds out she’s pregnant, it reaches a new level. he doesn’t even let her try to reach something off of the top shelf in the kitchen.

“i need to be active,” she says to him as he hands her the pan she was trying to grab. “it’s not good for me or the baby if i don’t move around.”

“then take walks,” rafe says, towering over her. “but if you need to reach something, get me.”

“what if you’re not home?”

“then wait for me to get home.”

she rolls her eyes, irritated but mostly endeared that he’s being so careful.

she gets morning sickness. and afternoon sickness. and night sickness. every time she retches in the bathroom and rafe is home to hear it, she comes out to see him standing by the door, a concerned wince on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

“you okay?” he asks.

she just shakes her head no and takes the glass.

when she reaches eight weeks, they go for her first ultrasound. she can tell something’s up when the technician who’s scanning her stomach seems to straighten up a few minutes in, then continues to take photos.

“is everything okay?” she asks nervously.

“yup,” the tech says. a few gruelling minutes pass by before she turns the screen towards her and rafe.

“i just wanted to confirm before telling you,” the tech explains, “i’m detecting two heartbeats. you’re having twins.”

they speechlessly watch the black and grey screen, following the tech’s finger as she points at a faint blinking.

“there’s one…” she says, then moves, “and two.”

“two,” rafe repeats. he’s still wrapping his head around the fact that he just saw his baby’s heartbeat, let alone two. he meets eyes with his girlfriend, both of them astonished.

a smile grows on his face, his warm hand wrapping around hers. but she’s still in shock.

“w-wow,” she stutters. “you’re sure?”

“positive,” the tech replies.

“i guess, um,” she says, “i guess my doctor will talk to me about it, but is there a higher risk of complications?”

all she’s been reading about is general, common, one-baby pregnancy. this is throwing her for a loop.

“it’s different for every woman,” she tells her, “but you’ll probably have more appointments than you expected just because doctors prefer to monitor multiple births closer.”

“okay,” she says. “thank you.”

“i’ll be sending the images to your doctor and she’ll follow up,” she says, handing her a wad of paper towels. “congratulations. i’ll give you some space to clean the gel and you can head out the same way you came in.”

the tech leaves the room. she meets her boyfriend’s eyes, still unable to crack a smile.

“you okay?” rafe asks.

“i’m…” she begins. “i can’t believe this. this whole time, i’ve been picturing… but there’s… there’s two?”

“there’s two,” he says. he can see how anxious she is. “i’ll be with you through it all.”

“i’m gonna get huge,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes the gel off her stomach.

“i hope so,” he replies. “future nba stars in there. they need to be tall.”

“god,” she says. “twins. why’d you do this to me?”

“i’m efficient.”

she meets his eyes, finally smiling.

“i’m glad you’re so happy,” she tells him.

he looks at her with soft eyes. he knows she’s still harboring a fear that rafe will treat their child like she was treated by her father. he’s learned not to take it personally. but even if he did, he’s determined not to stress her out at all through these nine months, so he wouldn’t say anything anyway.

“are you? happy?” he asks. he realizes he’s kind of fearful, too. maybe she’ll just be worried throughout the pregnancy. maybe they will face complications.

“yes,” she breathes. “i just need to shock to wear off first.”

sure enough, the doctor confirms it. she tells them that multiple pregnancies are riskier, but that they’ll monitor her closely.

as she gets heavier, she gets more irritable and demanding. rafe hates himself for it, but he gets frustrated at times, especially when he’s had a long day and comes home to their penthouse condo to see her on the couch, looking like she’s annoyed he’s home.

he never says anything when he’s irritated. but she can read him like a book.

“why are you mad at me?” she snaps, following him into the bedroom one night after he gets home from the gym.

“i didn’t say a word,” rafe mumbles.

“i can see it on your face,” he says. “what, is it because i don’t have dinner waiting? the smell of anything cooking makes me hurl, you know.”

“i know,” he says, throwing his gym clothes in the hamper. “i’m not mad.”

“can’t you look at me?”

rafe sighs and turns to look at her, her belly round and protruding under her shirt.

“you’re not even happy to be home,” she says, her hands on her hips.

“i am,” he says. “i’m just tired.”

“and i’m not? i have not one, but two things draining me of everything in me every second of every day. i don’t get any breaks. i can’t sleep.”

“i know,” he breathes. “i’m sorry. did you eat?”

“you think i’m stupid enough to be skipping meals? i’m nourishing them,” she says, touching her stomach. “don’t worry about that.”

“i meant…” rafe scratches the back of his neck. he refuses to lose his temper on her when she’s in this state; especially because she’s suffering for both of them. “for you. did you eat?”

“yes,” she says, her hard expression faltering a bit.

“can i get you anything? you have any cravings?”

“not right now,” she replies.

he nods and turns to finish emptying his gym bag.

“i’m making a protein shake soon. you want one, too?” he asks, his back to her.

she sighs, tears welling up in her eyes, and steps forward, putting her arms around him, her stomach pushing against his lower back.

“i’m sorry i’m such a bitch,” she mumbles, sniffling.

“don’t say that. you’re not a bitch,” he says. he’s used to her mood swings by now, but she usually just goes from indifferent to angry and back. she hasn’t cried in a while.

“i can see myself being crazy but i can’t stop,” she admits. “and i’m nervous about tomorrow. i hope they’re doing okay. i still haven’t felt them move.”

her twenty-week ultrasound is tomorrow. they’ll be finding out the twins’ genders.

rafe turns and plants a slow, gentle kiss on her forehead. he exhales slowly as she shudders with her cries.

“they’re doing great,” he says. “all the appointments and check-ups have been good. and whatever they end up being, we’ll love them.”

“you’re right.” she sighs and tilts her chin to kiss him. she hates that she can’t remember the last time they kissed. she feels like all she’s been doing lately is whining and puking.

“how are you?” she asks.

“good.”

“how are you really?”

“i can’t complain.” he puts a hand on her belly. “i’m not the one with two things draining me every second of every day.”

“you’re allowed to be tired, too,” she says. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s all good, baby,” he says. “let’s watch something and pass out on the couch.”

“deal.”

the next day, they learn that she’s carrying a boy and a girl. rafe can’t believe how lucky he is.

when he falls asleep next to his girlfriend that night, curled up behind her, his hand on her belly, he feels a light, almost imperceptible movement on his palm.

“oh, my god,” she whispers into the dark. “did you feel that?”

“was that…?”

“it was,” she says, choking up. “one of them saying hi.”

rafe shuffles closer and kisses her neck a hundred times, gently rubbing her tummy. he still can’t get the way they looked on the ultrasound screen out of his head. he can’t fully comprehend that this is really happening, that this is his life, playing professionally and expecting babies with the only girl he’s ever loved.

he can take her mood swings. he can take her any way. as long as she’s with him.

a few days later, she suggests rafe go on a trip with his friends since it’s the off season. he asks her why and she tells him “so you get a break from me.”

rafe chuckles and kisses her before he tells her, “i don’t need a break from my best friend. what’d i tell you? you won’t do any of this alone.”

by the third trimester, she’s heavy and uncomfortable, but she’s not throwing up anymore. her mood swings are more manageable. at this point, she’s scared for the delivery, fully aware that babies can always come early, especially twins, but she’s excited to finally meet them.

and every chance he gets, rafe kisses her forehead, then gives two kisses to her stomach, telling his son and his daughter that he loves them.

she’s amazed at this side of him. she already knew beneath his aggressive, temperamental exterior was a fiercely protective man with a big heart. but the way he’s been treating her, even when she’s been so difficult and unreasonable, is astonishing.

and she can’t wait to see him as a father. she realizes now that she has no doubt that he’ll always make their children feel loved.

[frozenjokes]

I’m Really Sorry About The Whole ‘Crush On My Alter Ego’ Thing, But We Could Still Totally Make This Work

Grian woke up early to a harsh alarm as he had every day since Scar’s.. confession..

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but it probably would in an hour or two, so Grian wasted no time getting right on his morning routine. Which is to say. Doom scrolling for at least an hour before actually getting up. Though before choosing one of many social media platforms to waste his time with, he checked his texts, expecting to find a meme or work schedule change from Cub, and instead:

Good morning sunshine👊👊👊👊👊!!! ❤️ Time to get ready for another day of stopping crime and KICKING ASS👉👊👊‼️⚡️⚡️⭐️✨✨💥💥💥💥 I would say I hope you slept well.. but I KNOW you did and that your going to have a certifiably SLAY DAY⭐️💥⭐️💥⚡️⚡️⚡️ I just wanted YOU to know that your killing it (👊👊👊👊👊👊) and you’re awesome and very cute😳 like cUtEgUy you know and everyone loves you❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️Me included!! Can’t wait to see you today🫵🫵👊👊🫡💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 *dhoots arrow* HOTGUY

It went on for quite a bit longer, but Grian had seen enough actually, and consequently was no longer inclined to stay awake. This would be a problem for future Grian.

Future Grian was not very happy with past Grian when he woke up a few hours later, stumbling in his disoriented state to the kitchenette for coffee. Cub was at the kitchen table scrolling through his phone, and once Grian had the presence of mind to interrogate him, he pulled up the text, shoving his phone in Cub’s face.

“What is this. Did you have something to do with this? Did you write this for him? That’s probably something you’d do. What’s your prerogative here?”

Cub took a long moment to read, a small smile creeping across his face before outright laughing, “Oh, this is great.” Cub gently took Grian’s phone to keep reading, adjusting his glasses, “It just keeps going. How long do you think he spent typing this?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! What the hell am I supposed to do? Why is he even texting me in the first place?”

“I’m failing to see how this is a big deal. He’s probably just sorry about the Micah thing and this is how he’s chosen to express that. Oh- here. ‘You don’t have to worry about seeing Micah again because I killed him. He’s gone.-‘ several explosions emojis ‘-I also tried to kill HotGuy but when I brought it up to one of my buddies who’s in with the higher ups he said No No Definitely Not Do Not Bring This Up To Anyone Else Ever For Your Own Safety so I’m feeling a little bit more insecure about my place in the world but that’s okay! I mean I know my life has always been in the hands of government doctors but I didn’t actually think through those implications until right now. You know me though, I’ll just keep doing my best! HaHa!’ Oh god. That’s a lot more text with very few emojis. Do these things not have character limits? I don’t think he’s okay actually. This just keeps going.”

“The- Okay, how am I supposed to be upset at him after you just read all that out to me? This is not fair. Can we just put that aside for later because how the fuck am I supposed to look at Scar in even remotely the same way after Micah- You can not possibly understand, Cub, I told Micah everything. We like- connected! And it was just fucking HotGuy the whole time! The guy I can’t fucking stand!”

“Out of costume I think he prefers you just call him Scar.”

“Okay. Sure. Fine. Scar fucked my brain! How can he even expect me to look at him the same way! He just let me think for all that time he was a different guy! Do you know how crazy that is? He talked shit ABOUT HIMSELF constantly! He tricked me!” Still, after a whole week to think about it, Grian couldn’t make sense of that. That he had met someone, made a real connection with a real person, but he hadn’t, not actually, because all of it was a facade. It was just Scar. But it didn’t feel like just Scar- it felt like Micah. Micah, who was just an act. Micah who he’d never see again. And maybe that hurt the most. That he’d lost someone like that. That he’d lost a friend. Someone who he thought might be able to be more than a friend.

“If it helps I think he has serious enough issues with his identity that he was not just ‘Scar but playing a character.’ Micah was a different person to him, I think.”

“Yeah.” Grian’s shoulders sagged, the idea not much of a comfort, “That. I got some idea of that. He was asking me a lot of questions about alter egos when-“ Grian cut himself off to groan loudly, “This is so stupid. This is so stupid. He needs to go directly to therapy for weeks at a time so I don’t have to see him for at least another month.”

Cub shrugged, “Maybe it would be good for you to see him. Maybe you should go in today.”

“How would this help me.” Grian glared, but Cub wasn’t looking up, still reading-

“I don’t know,” Cub said, setting Grian’s phone down on the table to return his focus to his own coffee, “I just kinda want you to.”

“Seriously.”

“I do. You’ve both been a bit of a wreck all week, maybe this’ll clear the air. And unless you plan on never speaking to Scar again, which is not practical for your work or your home life, you’re going to have to tear the bandaid off at some point. If he wants to apologize, you should let him say what he has to say at the very least. You don’t have to forgive him.”

“You- Are you in on this? I think you’re in on this.”

“I didn’t know about the text. Honestly, the majority of that message comes off as very.. in the moment. I don’t think that was planned. But he has a plan. No idea what. He wouldn’t tell me. It’ll probably be funny though.”

“So do you want this to fix me or do you want to laugh at me?”

Cub waved a hand dismissively, not looking up from his coffee. “I want to laugh at Scar.”

“Great.”

“You should go to work though.”

“I know your motives, Cub.”

Cub only shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m also just curious. I want to know what he does. Don’t you? Wouldn’t it be sad if he planned some sort of big I’m Sorry event for you and you never showed?”

“This is extremely appealing to me.”

“But then you’ll never know what it was. Or if it even happened at all.”

“Scar will text you.”

“He might not.”

Grian scoffed. “If you want to see what Scar has done so badly then you can go and see it for yourself.”

“You think security would let me in?” Cub looked a bit too excited by that idea, the kind of expression that crossed his face holding Great Intention. Always a terrifying look on Cub, and definitely not something to be encouraged lest he get himself arrested.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

Cub deflated (a great relief), but didn’t budge on his prior sentiment. “You should go.” Grian rolled his eyes.

“Well I am going, I want to go, but I'm not trying to see any of Scar. If he wants to talk to me he can chase me down. I’m not playing into anything he has planned.”

“Oh,” Cub blinked, then looked back at his phone, “Great. My job’s done then.”

“You are in on this!”

“I maintain my innocence. Hope it’s a good day though.”

“It won’t be.��

“If you say so.”

Grian rolled his eyes, taking his coffee off the maker and heading back to his room. He dressed in his underclothes, grabbed his bag, then headed out with a passing goodbye. Cub’s focus was elsewhere anyway, getting ready for his own work. One day Cub would be able to quit that damn job. Now that Grian had he means, he was going to make sure of it.

…

With the ample warning, Grian made sure to steer completely clear of his and Scar’s offices. He intended on lingering here as little as possible, only dropping in to change and collect a radio.

Apparently Scar had anticipated this.

“Well hello there!”

Grian didn’t catch more than a glance of him before slamming the public office door closed, but had to open it again seconds later because what the fuck was Scar wearing.

Scar had laid himself out over the center desk, dressed head to toe in the most garishly abhorrent green crop top, booty shorts, and sparkly jewelry Grian had ever seen all on top of his uniform. ‘IM SORRY’ was written across the chest in neon pink fabric marker chicken scratch, a miserable failure at matching CuteGuy’s colors. The entire outfit clashed so horribly that Grian couldn’t help but stare, for a moment too long apparently because Scar took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

“CuteGuy! I had a rose for you, but you took your sweet ass time getting here and I got bored, so I ate it instead. You know how there’s rose flavored candy and shit? Does not taste like the flower. Would not recommend. Actually!” Scar rolled over onto his stomach, kicking his legs, and Grian choked on a snort when he saw the text across Scar’s ass said ‘WHORE.’ “I was trying to spit it out, you know, and I’m pretty sure my saliva is purple now. It turned my water purple. I might have poisoned myself.”

Grian found himself stuck between bafflement and a laugh, but he refused to show Scar he was any amount amused by this display, his voice stilted in suppression when he finally spoke. “Give me. A radio.”

“Sure thing!” Scar plucked one off the dock, spinning it in his fingers before tossing it across the room. Grian caught it, turning on his heel to leave. “Hey! Where are you going?”

Grian didn’t feel the need to answer, shutting the door behind himself as he went, but it wasn’t long because he heard the tip-taps of Scar’s boots behind him, not running, but certainly trying his best to catch up.

“Did you see my message this morning?”

“I saw it.”

“Did you see the part where I asked to take you to lunch?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go to lunch then? Later, obviously. You don’t even have to go with me!”

Grian scoffed through a chuckle, rolling his eyes. Ridiculous. “No thanks.”

“I thought so. That’s okay! Maybe another time! I’m going to go now, but it was nice to see you, CuteGuy!”

Grian frowned, not responding or turning around. If Scar wanted to dress like an idiot, that was his prerogative. Grian wasn’t going to be the one to stop him. He had actual work to be doing.

…

Grian liked how often he got to fly in this line of work. CuteGuy the villain didn’t fly anywhere; he laid low, he scouted the streets from roofs of buildings, he stuck to the shadows. ‘Grian’ didn’t fly much either, not without a reason. Sometimes he’d fly just like anyone would go for a walk, but he liked doing something, he liked having places to go. As much as he loathed superhero culture- and the whole damn city for that matter- he loved this.

It wasn’t unusual for a crowd to gather at the scene of a fight or crime, but maybe Grian should have known that a crowd this large, this dense, was a red flag. It had been a couple hours since he’d set off into the city, so his guard was down, he was in the zone. He had just assumed someone was hurt. That people were trying to help or panicking. Clearing the crowd revealed otherwise.

Scar was laying on the sidewalk, still wearing his clashing clothes, signing a book from a fan before shooing them away while looking distinctly like the two of them were in on some sort of inside joke. He.. didn’t have his legs.

“CuteGuy!” Scar swooned, drawing a gloved hand across his forehead, “I have fallen and I can not get up! I need a handsome and capable superhero to assist me!”

Grian cringed, but despite the majority of people having backed up, no one seemed to actually have left, encircling the both of them in a tight barrier. Scar knew plenty well how their fans felt about the two of them, (Grian had stumbled upon some.. choice pieces of fanart before) and he’d never miss an opportunity to tease under the scrutiny of eager eyes. Though, there was something beautifully normal about that; the teasing, the invitation of banter. The kind of normalcy you long for, even when things aren’t well. (Even when Micah was never real, even after you lost a friend.)

“You’re plenty capable. This is a severe waste of my time.” Grian flapped his wings, not intending on leaving, just needing more space from the onlookers.

Scar watched him carefully, delight dancing across his face when he realized that Grian was going to stay. “Well of course, of course, but going all that distance walking on my hands? No no, I don’t think so! I don’t even want to think about the kinds of calluses I’d get! And it would take hours.”

“Serves you right. Did you make sure that call only wired to me?” Grian huffed, making a grand show of his annoyance since Scar couldn’t see the roll of his eyes. And.. well.. he couldn’t quite help himself with the crowd. Everyone gets a kick out of dramatics sometimes. “Where’d your legs run off to anyway?”

“Oh! Funny story! The Goat took them.”

“You paid him to do that?”

“That would have been a really good idea! But no. He just happened to see me, and after laughing at me for like ten minutes he said ‘iF yOu aRen’t uSinG thEsE tHen I wiLL’ like he does, you know him. It was a little ominous actually. I’m a bit worried. My doctors are going to be pissed when they find out, so personally, I would rather be delivering this news with legs in hand.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. It’s not ideal. If it wasn’t already clear, I’m going to need help getting them back.”

“I hope you know how unbelievably a ‘you problem’ this is because I am not helping. Good luck hunting him down. First I’d recommend calling someone to bring you your chair.”

“No!” Scar jolted upright, proving just how capable he was of not laying pathetically on the concrete, “I want you! Look, look at me. Listen. Close your eyes.”

Grian made a face, scoffing to hide the hint of amusement that was threatening to show in his expression. “Do you want me to look at you or do you want me to close my eyes.”

“Listen. Imagine. HotGuy and CuteGuy: Dynamic Duo-!”

“This sounds awful.”

“-I’m up on your shoulders, we’re infiltrating The Goat’s home base together! You’re punching bad guys and I’m shooting my bow from above-“

“And how do you think you’re going to hang on, huh?” Grian interrupted, tapping his foot.

“Obviously I’d-“ Scar moved, seeming to realize too late he didn’t have the legs he was planning on using. This did not deter him, a sharp smirk splitting his smile, “Velcro!”

Grian snorted despite himself, “Yeah. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it. I foresee zero issues.” With a great irritation that gripped him out of nowhere, Grian was suddenly aware of other voices, the crowd, speaking loudly amongst themselves. Someone started to chant his name. Another chanted ‘Velcro!’ That caught on much faster. Grian flapped his wings far more aggressively when the crowd began to close in, hitting civilians out of his personal bubble, but this didn’t seem to be very effective, anxiety crawling under his skin as the attention started to be too much. Scar seemed to notice, but despite his efforts to control the onlookers, they were too rowdy, too caught up in their excitement to listen.

“Goodbye.” Grian hissed, straining to be heard, and Scar half-shrugged, a possible attempt at apology.

“So that’s a no, then? You’ll fetch my legs at least, will you?”

“No.” Grian beat his wings hard, forcing civilians out of his way and prepping to take off.

“Oh! Okay! Have a nice day then!”

Grian was gone before he could hear another word, before any other body could brush the backs of his wings. Anger painfully out of proportion boiled in his stomach, spilling out and staining the rest of his insides in its pulsing fire. He wasn’t angry at Scar. Well. He could certainly blame Scar, luring him around and speaking like that, stoking the fire of fans who adored the both of them, but Grian hadn’t minded the show, he hadn’t even cared all too much that he’d been tricked, not when the resulting interaction felt so.. normal. He liked an act. He liked being CuteGuy. So why was he so upset? And maybe that was it. He was just angry for no reason, and that made him angrier, because despite everything, despite trying so damn hard, he was still broken.

He could punch someone about it. He wanted to punch someone about it. Cub wouldn’t want him to.

So he flew instead. Flew like he liked, fast and far and high until the air was too thin, then let himself fall, playing games with his life as he hurtled through the sky before catching himself under spread wings and doing all of it over again. Eventually he got tired. Eventually he had to stop. But the aftermath of a senseless episode still buzzed under his skin, nearly as unpleasant as the burn that caused it. Grian could feel it. He could feel it under his skin. He wanted to tear it out. He wanted to fly, exhaust himself until he couldn’t feel anything at all, but he was too tired, so instead he found himself gliding to Cub’s workplace. He didn’t know where else to go.

“CuteGuy-“ Cub’s manager was frightened by his sudden entrance, stumbling through the front door aggressively enough to rattle the attached bell into senseless noise.

“Hello Diane.”

“How do-“ but Grian cut her off with a frustrated groan, not caring to listen as he dragged himself to the back. Cub looked even more startled to see him than his manager did, though surprise quickly melted into concern when Grian collapsed into a pile of cardboard boxes. He grunted. They were not as soft as they looked.

“Ah CuteGuy, friend of HotGuy who I am friends with and know for this reason- it’s fine Diane, it’s fine, let me just- I can handle it.” Grian heard the soft arguing from the doorway, but didn’t care to say anything. He didn’t care to think. He just wanted to be better.

Eventually the door closed.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Cub’s hand flew to his shoulder and Grian viscerally cringed, lips parting in silent discomfort until the hand was swiftly drawn back, “I’m sorry. Do you need me to call an ambulance? Are you okay? You’re not okay.”

“I’m not hurt,” Grian mumbled, narrowing his eyes against Cub’s panicked expression in his peripherie. “Angry. Stupid.”

Cub jolted in his recognition, gears shifting immediately. “Scar, then. Was it Scar? I mean, I can’t say I haven’t been keeping tabs on the news- social media, the like. I’ve seen more than a few videos- people are going kinda nuts over nothing in my opinion but- It was too much. I’ll tell Scar to stop bugging you, he’ll stop.”

“It’s not Scar. I don’t care about Scar.”

Cub made a bit of a face, enough for Grian to tell he wasn’t so sure about that, but Cub didn’t voice the thought, instead asking, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Nothing.”

“Is- I’m struggling a little with the tone, man.”

“I don’t know! I was fine, I was kinda having fun and then I just wasn’t and out of nowhere everything just sucked and I was so mad and that’s not supposed to happen to me! Nothing happened and I wanted to rip out my hair and punch things and I didn’t, but now I just feel stupid! Why is my brain so fucking dumb.”

Grian let his head drop, face down in a pile of cardboard, but Cub didn’t move, intense in his silence. Eventually he sat down, right on the floor. “I need to break these down anyway,” he hummed, almost subconsciously as he leaned to grab something off his desk. The next couple minutes were filled with the sound of a boxcutter against tape and cardboard. It wasn’t awful.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Cub asked, not much more than a whisper. Not like he was sad or anything either, just focused on the task at hand.

“Okay,” Grian mumbled, the word coming out entirely indecipherable as anything but a noise of assent.

“I think you were nervous this morning. I think maybe you had an alright day, but got overwhelmed near the end. You can be having a good time and still get overwhelmed. There were a lot of people around you from what I could tell; it looked kinda claustrophobic.”

“But I didn’t- I didn’t care. It was like a switch in my brain just flipped! No build up!”

“Sometimes that’s how it happens. Sometimes there is build up and you just don’t notice until it’s too late. It’s not always so simply defined. There’s not always a reason. And there doesn’t have to be. You’re not regressing because you had a bad day, Grian. You’re not stupid.”

“I feel awful.”

Out of the corner of Grian’s eye, he saw Cub nod. “Yeah. I get it.” Cub continued with the boxes and Grian didn’t speak, only shuffling a little to grant easier access to the few he was laying on. But Cub stopped almost abruptly after breaking down one box, the room blanketed in a meaningful silence. “Have I told you yet? How damn proud of you I am?”

The question jolted Grian out of his daze. He didn’t know what to say. How to respond. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Of course you have. You’ve been dealt a pretty shitty hand of cards, but you haven’t stopped working with them. You haven’t given up. And you have your moments, you have bad weeks, bad months, but you still pick yourself back up at the end of today. I think you’ve grown. I don’t think Grian from a couple months ago would have walked away from the crowd and taken his anger somewhere better. I don’t think Grian from a couple months ago would have come to me. I respect you, Grian. You’ve come so damn far. I’m proud of you.”

Grian shook his head. “I haven’t done anything. It’s all you. I don’t pick myself up at all, you’re just pushing me back on my feet.”

“I haven’t known a single person that overcomes any of these kinds of challenges without support. That doesn’t make you any less capable, Grian. You’re still standing on your own two feet. I am proud of you.”

Discomfort burned in Grian’s chest. Cub didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. “It’s all for you. I’m only here because of you.”

“Having a strong motivator doesn’t discount all the hard work you’ve put in for yourself. You want to be better, Grian. You give your blood, sweat, and tears to make it happen. I’m not just dragging you along. You go to therapy and work your ass off. You keep track of your meds. You make the decision to walk away when all of you wants to haul off and kick someone’s shit in. You do it. You. And maybe most impressively, every time you fail, get arrested, relapse into old behavior, you peel yourself right off the concrete and try again. And there’s nothing harder than that. So that’s why I’m proud. That’s why I will always be proud. You’re a good man, Grian. You’re good.”

Grian didn’t know what to do with that. A soft chill rippled through his form, shaking him in his entirety despite its gentle nature. All of him felt so heavy. His lungs were full of lead.

“Can I have a hug?” A meek question, but he didn’t care.

“Of course.”

Cub’s touch sent another wave of coolness riding through his veins, contracting his muscles, making him sick and heavy and limp. And then, slowly, a steady march that began in his chest and spread outward; warmth. A soft, perfect warmth. The kind of love that could make anyone believe they were something to be proud of.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke and @hughungrybear. Thanks for tagging me!

do you make your bed?

It depends... I live in the part of the world where it's usual to have a duvet in a duvet cover and a sheet covering the mattress, and I have a duvet twice the width of my bed so it usually doesn't get rucked up during the night, so when I get up I fold over the top third of the duvet to air out the mattress/sheet. If it's a work day, it will stay like this until I get home, then I will usually pull the duvet back over the bed. If it's a weekend, I might make the bed again midday. I like it when my bed looks made.

what's your favourite number?

I'm not sure why but I like the number 7, and then also the numbers 4 and 3 because they make up 7. I've never really considered numbers beyond single digits to be 'favourites'. But if I did it would be my birthday day. Oh and I don't really use favourite numbers as important passwords or pins or the such...jsyk.

what is your job?

The work I do is quite niche, so I never really want to say too much because I'm pretty discoverable online with a few key words...but then sometimes I really want y'all to know what I do because it's unusual (and, I think, quite cool!)...but without revealing too much I work in the arts sector - specifically dance.

if you could go back to school, would you?

School, as in aged 11-16? Absolutely the hell no. But school as in higher education, degrees, masters, or smaller qualifications for my general interests? Well, I sort of did a few years ago (*she looks at the calendar and realises it's more than 'a few'*). I did a Creative Writing Masters over 2019-2020, which was GREAT to do but sort of killed my spirit and drive to be a writer...but whatever, I can always pick it back up again in the future if it returns. I also went to classes to learn Swedish when I lived in Sweden and I'm going to a different language class now one evening a week. I enjoy studying...but I get too focused on getting good grades.

can you parallel park?

Yes but I only do it when the space is big enough for me to confidently do it (especially with all these sensors beeping nowadays) and usually only on the side of the road opposite to the steering wheel (I can drive on both sides of the road).

a job you had that would surprise people?

I think my whole career is probably surprising to people but in the sense that I think people are mostly confused because they don't really understand what I really do on a day to day basis.

do you think aliens are real?

I think it would be incredible if in this whole universe we are the only planet who has developed 'life'. Aliens don't necessarily have to be intelligent life like us (and that's debatable sometimes!), so yes, I think somewhere in this universe there is another planet which has the conditions for some form of life, whether we could survive there or not.

can you drive a manual car?

Yes, I learnt on one and have managed to adapt to both right-hand and left-hand gear sticks, although I'm still a little 'fumbly' with the right-hand gear stick. I prefer automatics when in a traffic jam but otherwise I'm happy to drive whichever. Sometimes it's good to have something to focus on when driving, so a manual is good. The problem happens if I've used different hire cars in a short period of time (which I need to do sometimes with work) and when I forget I'm in a manual and brake coming up to to a junction and just...stall because I forget to change down gears 😂

what's your guilty pleasure?

If a guilty pleasure is something I'd feel shy or embarrassed admitting or talking to others about...then it would probably be watching ql or reading fanfic 😂 Other than that I'm not sure I have anything...I enjoy what I enjoy and don't feel guilt over it.

tattoos?

No but I've always thought about getting one but I think the thought of the work I'd have to do to find someone I would really trust to permanently mark my skin means I've just never done it. But I would like some kind of minimalist abstract colour art that starts on my shoulder and trails down my arm. Maybe. I've never been able to find exactly what I'm imagining, which is also why I've never pursued it.

favorite color?

I think I'm in my blue stage in my life, looking at the majority of colours surrounding me, but I also like pops of red.

favorite type of music?

The music playlists I listen to most are 1) OSTs and similar style songs from all the qls I've watched over the past 3 years 2) the instrumental background music from all the qls I've watched and 3) Swedish pop (to keep the language fresh in my brain). I do like all kinds of music - just NOT drum and bass - anything can work for me in the right mood.

do you like puzzles?

Yes, although I don't often do them. I enjoy the 'escape room' type Exit games as well as sudoku, and for a few months several years ago I really got into hanjie puzzles.

any phobias?

I'm not sure if this is a phobia or not but I absolutely CANNOT deal with cotton wool. Just thinking about pulling it apart makes me want to crawl out of my skin and lay down in a bath of acid just to get away from it let alone actually TOUCHING it and pulling it apart 🤢🤮 The cotton wool pads are ok because they have smooth sides and I don't...pull 🤮 them 🤮 apart 🤮. Ok, I gotta stop talking about this now, I'm squirming in my seat.

favorite childhood sport?

I did gymnastics as a child, from about aged 8 to 13, but I don't know if that counts as a 'sport', although I did compete. I didn't really enjoy most ball sports as a kid.

do you talk to yourself?

ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME. I talk to myself in my head. I talk to myself out loud. Sometimes, if I'm talking to myself aloud about something important and then do something that means I can't continue (cleaning my teeth, drinking/eating etc) then for some reason I can't continue in my head. I have to wait until I'm finished to then talk out loud again. But I also talk to myself aloud when I'm out 😬 but I do it quietly and without moving my mouth too much so people don't notice. I was in a shop recently and a gentleman was talking to himself out loud (commenting on the offering of tea towels ikea had and wondering whether to buy any) - loud enough that I thought that he was actually talking to someone else but he wasn't - and I felt like I had a glimpse of my future if I wasn't careful 😂

what movies do you adore?

I don't watch a lot of movies nowadays - the last I saw was Barbie. But the one that has stayed with me as a favourite since I first saw it is Some Kind of Wonderful. And I love The Holiday as a Christmas movie (although I haven't watched it for ages). Oh and it's not a movie, so maybe doesn't count, but the BBC's adaptation of Pride and Prejudice has my whole heart.

coffee or tea?

I'm definitely a tea drinker (approx 3 cups of black Earl Grey plus one or two herbal teas every day) but sometimes I'll crave a coffee...but then I'll have decaf. I'll crave it because I think the milkiness of it (oat milk though) makes it feel like a comfort drink, and I like a small shot of gingerbread syrup in it too.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

I remember things like 'lawyer', 'journalist', and 'doctor' were common aspirations when I was a kid which I also contemplated but when I decided I wanted to be a dancer at aged 13 that was it for me. My 'back-up' career plan was some kind of palaeontology or archaeology ("you get an -ology you're a scientist!" 😂) but I never needed to pursue that.

Onward tagging: I'm not sure by now who has done this or not, so I'll tag some people and if you have done it then tag me in your post so I can read it! @grapejuicegay @dimplesandfierceeyes @casualavocados @ranchthoughts @jourquet @lollygirlpops @airenyah @incandescentflower and @linosaur

Like @telomeke, I also get tagged now and then by others in various tag games but then get too busy with work to be able to do them. So if you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just didn't have the time and then probably forgot.

[mothrocks]

So I recently caved and watched Hazbin Hotel. I like animation, musicals, and animated musicals, so I feel like I'm kind of obligated to watch this new animated musical cartoon. After watching the show, I can't help but compare it to other animated productions that have also been released within the last year, namely that of Disney's Wish. I have a lot of thoughts, so here's this essay I spent like 2.5 hours writing :D

Slight disclaimer, I do acknowledge that Wish and Hazbin Hotel have very different themes, target audiences, production methods, pipelines, all the things. As someone who just enjoys animation, I'm going to disregard this for the most part, largely because I just want to ramble about the animation industry as a whole and probably could for hours.

Hazbin Hotel features a cast of characters trying to rehabilitate the sinners of Hell to save them from dying a second (and seemingly final) death in the afterlife. I have my own thoughts on the show itself, but I generally thought it was good. You can tell there was passion behind it and that they were allowed a lot of creative freedom, rather than having to pander as much to studio higher-ups.

I'm choosing not to summarize Wish and trusting that if you've read this far, you have at least a fragment of an idea of what the movie is about (not that there is much of a memorable plot, anyways). I don't like Wish. The characters are static and flat; there's no growth or character development and we have little to no reason to root for the main character, Asha. The story overall is unmemorable. The animation is fairly lackluster and looks unfinished. Lastly, the songs, one of the most important parts of a Disney animated musical, are just bad and incohesive and don't fit whatever vibe Disney and its producers were going for. I want to add that I don't think these qualms are the fault of the creatives behind this movie, rather, the fault of Disney executives stepping in.

Compared to Wish, Hazbin Hotel has interesting and dynamic characters, a solid art and animation style, and a wonderful soundtrack. Hazbin Hotel, despite being a show about the afterlife, has life and soul to it. This isn't to say I'm a big fan of the show, I do have criticisms of my own. My question is, how does Hazbin Hotel, an animated adult cartoon practically birthed from the internet, manage to be infinitely better than Wish, a movie by fucking Walt Disney Animation Studios? The fact that Disney, the studio behind The Lion King and Beauty and the Beast (or even more recent things like Moana and Encanto), is the same studio that produced a movie as flat and lifeless as Wish is baffling to me.

My speculation as to why this show is so much better than Wish is specifically because it was cultivated from random people on the internet who were passionate about their projects opposed to a company like Disney, who made Wish just for money (and to promote their anniversary). Disney has changed from what it once was and no longer takes risks in their storytelling or animation, only pursuing whatever writing, casting, or cost-cutting decisions that will line their pockets best. As someone who grew up watching these movies so much as a kid and learning about animation and storytelling and music from them, it's so disheartening to see any creativity within this corporation be crushed. Walt Disney Animation Studio's latest animated films since 2018 (Ralph Breaks the Internet, Frozen II, Raya and the Last Dragon, Strange World, and Wish) have all been lackluster in one way or another, with Encanto being the one exception. Disney has historically had dips in the quality of it's content, but this new trend in addition to the rise of streaming platforms (and even the introduction of AI) leads me to have little to no hope for Disney's animation going forward. Passion projects such as Hazbin Hotel are what makes me have any semblance of hope for the future of animation as a whole. Seeing one of the leading animation producers dwindle to this extent and kill any creativity brought to the table is just sad.

[mask131]

Heyo! I know you like talking about the 7 deadly sins (I think?)

But what about their counterparts, the 7 heavenly virtue's? (The Angels that represent them, or info on their meanings.)

If you don't know a lot about them, or don't want to talk about them you don't have to. I would gladly listen to any info you'd like to share on the sins or another topic of your choice.

I love reading your information posts, so any topic would be welcome. :)

idk exactly why, but your posts are just a very enjoyable read! I love learning about your interests, because you just make them very detailed and interesting I guess?

Thank you for reading this ask I hope you have a wonderful day ✨

Hi! Thank you for your ask - sorry for not answering sooner but my Internet has been up and down, in and out, and so I have limited access to Tumblr.

I am glad you took an interest in these old posts - though I do have to mention how OLD these things are. They did pop up back thanks to the Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel stuff, but yeah I haven't written about topics like the deadly sins in a while.

For the seven heavenly virtues I will say that... It's paradoxal but interestingly, they are not as interesting as you might think X)

I am not going to make a whole ass post about it yet, I am writing that on the top of my head, but here's the thing. The seven heavenly virtues were NOT part of the original Christian doctrine, teaching, religion, and are still not considered today... "canon" I will dare say (religious pun intended).

There are seven virtues in Christian religion (at least Catholic flavored, since that's from where I get my info :p Don't know what Orthodox have to say to that), but they are NOT the seven heavenly virtues. They are the four cardinal virtues and the three theological ones (main difference: cardinal virtues are supposed to come from the humans themselves, we have them naturally in us ; theological virtues are supposed to come from God and thus only religious work can help us get them "out"). They do form the seven virtues of Christianity. But they were not made to match the seven deadly sins. They existed way before the idea of the "seven deadly sins" popped up (remember, it all started as just a tiny monk in his isolated desert writing down about all the flaws and problems he saw young monks suffer from - "Those darn kids" mentality - which led to a whole philosophical and theological process only later picked up by Church higher up. Eight evil thoughts - seven vices.)

But here's the thing. Medieval + Renaissance times had a big obsession with "evil imagery". It was this specific time where Christianity decided to go "Okay, let's stop preaching about being kind and poor and gentle - let's start telling them if they don't behave they'll be roasted alive while toads eat their toes". It was the boom of the Hell depictions, of the devil and demons imagery, of the depictions of the sins of all sorts, the arrival of Purgatory, and whatnot. Now, the seven deadly sins had a HUGE success... Too huge. The Church realized that people knew by heart the seven deadly sins, but literaly didn't know their virtues or care about them. (It's your typical mentality of "Villains are cool, heroes are boring." Just look at Disney movies.) So, to retaliate that, a sort of unofficial list was created, matching the seven deadly sins in goodness. The "seven heavenly virtues". But it is not part of the Christian teachings *per se*. They are part of Christian imagery now, for sure, but originally it was just a sort of... I will dare say publicity stunt mixed with memorizing technique. People were lost with the whole "cardinal, theological" thing - so the Church decided "Okay well let's take this thing everybody likes and YOU DO THE REVERSE OKAY?". And people dug this a LOT (there's the whole Psychomachia genre about poems and novels depicting embodiments of the vice and virtues fighting each other to death).

As for angels that would correspond to the virtues, OH MY! That's nearly impossible to answers X) Already with demons it is complicated because, since demonology was literaly a mix of occultism with literary fashion and cultural fads, everybody had their own take - though at least with this some systems and classifications became more popular than others and imposed themselves in mass culture (even when they don't make sense by the Church's teachings, like the Lucifer/Satan divide). But with ANGELS? People don't even agree on the number of Archangels or on what exactly an archangel is ; so to find a coherent or imposed system of "seven angels" matching this sort of popular-but-unofficial list of "seven heavenly virtues", good luck! X)

Sorry for not being able to say more for now but I hope at least this brief answer will satisfy you in some ways. Maybe one day I'll make a more precise post about it - or if anything I said is unclear or you want me to explain myself on a specific point, don't hesitate to send an ask! My askbox is always open for that

[screechthemighty]

Titanfall fic writing is back, babey!! Fun fact, I started writing this *checks notes* literal years ago, but only just now circled back to it now that I'm filling in the holes in the Titanfall part of my Respawn Cinematic Universe. I will be eventually circling back to the stuff that happens after The Citadel, don't worry! I just wanted to get this one out of the way (again: literal years). AO3 link will be in a reblog, but you can read the first chapter below!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanficpart one

cw: vomiting, loss/grief, shutdown, references to alcoholism

.

Things would’ve gone a lot differently if he were a in movie. For starters, Cooper wouldn’t have passed out within five minutes of arriving on the main battleship.

That was his own fault. His body had been giving him signs it was going to quit on him the whole flight back. He was shaky, almost dizzy, nauseous, and it felt like someone had replaced his brain with piles of stuffing. Cooper had figured it was just the adrenaline. Been there, done that. He’d be fine once he had something to eat and some real sleep. He didn’t say anything because it wasn’t a big deal.

Turned out it, was a big deal.

His memories of what exactly happened were hazy. Commander Briggs was there, he knew that, and Robert Taube. He remembered there were a lot of other people, and that he thought it was all those eyes on him (even in a positive light) that were making him feel worse. He tried to be subtle about excusing himself. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded or not; he thought someone followed him, but he couldn’t remember if it was Commander Briggs or Taube or both. Maybe it was neither. But he was pretty sure he remembered someone asking if he was okay, and replying that he didn’t feel so hot.

That must’ve been when he passed out, because his next concrete memory was lying on a moving gurney and someone checking his pulse “...repeated physical contact with an unknown energy source, we have no idea…” someone was saying.

Cooper risked opening his eyes. Commander Briggs was there, Taube, too, and a nurse, and a medical droid. It wasn’t that big of an audience, but it felt like a whole stadium of people once he realized what happened. “Did I throw up on anyone?” he mumbled.

“No,” Taube replied bluntly. “You about to?”

“...uhm…”

He must’ve gone grey or green or whatever color you turned when you were about to puke, because Taube swore and got out of the way. At least that way, Cooper didn’t throw up on anyone. Puking on the floor in front of his new CO, a respected war hero, and two medics was still in the top ten most humiliating moments of his life. There wasn’t much in his stomach to throw up, just water and one and a half energy bars. But apparently his body really didn’t want it.

There was a hand on his shoulder, someone asking him something, but Cooper barely registered the question. He stared down at the floor, eyes defocused. This had happened before, right? Fracture? Yeah. Fracture. He’d hit his head, suffered a concussion. Did he have another concussion? He’d fallen so many times on Typhon. He’d thought the jump kit and the helmet would take the worst of it but…hell, he didn’t know. He had no clue what he was doing. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Were you given any medication during Broadsword?” asked the med droid. Its voice was neutral in a calming way, but higher pitched than BT’s had been.  Thinking about BT made his stomach churn. “Exposure to any other energy sources?”

Had he? So much had happened. He could barely keep track. “Uhm...s-sansufentynal. After my drop pod landed. And...Lastimosa…” The name tasted bitter in his mouth. “…gave me something, I don’t know what. He said it might knock me out, but I’d feel better once I woke up. I was in a power chamber, there was some radiation, but I think it wasn’t so long that my suit couldn’t handle it.”

“Understood.” The med droid began speaking in softer tones to the medic, something about blood work and scans; Cooper was too busy trying to control his still-revolting stomach to really pay attention.

Am I dying? Did I really survive all that bullshit just to die like this?

“You’re not dying,” said Taube roughly. Cooper looked up at him, confused. Had he said that out loud? How out of it was he right now? “Just keep it together, kid. We’re gonna get you help.”

He was the one resting a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. The reassuring pressure of the grip contrasted with the way Taube actually looked: worn down, five o’clock shadow, bags under his eyes. He looked just as ready to pass out as Cooper felt.

Cooper couldn’t blame him for that. It had been a hell of a long day. Using the past tense didn’t feel right, though. A day like that couldn’t just be…over. Not like this. Not with…

He lay back down and shut his eyes tightly.

He can’t be gone.

How can he just be gone?

The thought kept echoing in his head as they dragged him into a private room in the medbay. Cooper went through the motions, sitting up, letting them look him over, responding to any questions he knew the answers to. The answers kept getting shorter and shorter; if that concerned the medics, Cooper barely noticed. Everything was growing more distant—sounds, sensations, the overall feeling of reality. All he wanted to do was curl up somewhere quiet and dark and sleep.

Sleep and wake up in a world where BT wasn’t gone.

.

Cooper had gone quiet.

Barker hadn’t noticed it at first. He’d only realized because he’d happened to glance in Cooper’s direction. He was hunched over, face buried in his hands, not making a sound even as his shoulders shook slightly. Barker wasn’t shocked—after everything Cooper had been through, having an emotional crash with the physical one wasn’t out of the blue or anything.

Should I do something?

Barker barely knew the guy from Adam, but he had a feeling Briggs didn’t either. That might’ve been part of the problem, now that he thought about it. All that shit and no one he could talk to about it.  Still, one of us should say something. Briggs was still talking intensely with the human medic, and the bot didn’t look like the reassuring type. It was either interrupt or…

He sighed. Ah, screw it. “Hey, Cooper?” Barker said carefully as he stepped forward.

Cooper didn’t reply.

Shit. “Cooper?” Barker repeated, a bit louder this time. When that didn’t get a response, he knew it was time to switch tactics. Cooper had been a rifleman before this; maybe he just needed a good prod from a CO to get him out of it. “Pilot,” Barker tried, trying to force his voice back into tones he hadn’t used since the IMC.

Still nothing.

Except he hadn’t been pilot for longer than a few days, right? Field promotion, no time to get used to it. So maybe…

“Hey, Rifleman.”

Cooper straightened up immediately, shoulders squared, hands dropping down from his face. “Sir,” he said. His eyes were pink, still wet with tears. He didn’t seem to register who Barker was at first; his body just responded to the rank. Muscle memory. Hell of a thing.

Barker had Cooper’s attention all right, but now he didn’t know what to do with it.

“You, uh…” Barker took another few steps forward and clumsily rested a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “You okay?”

The kid looked at him like he was trying to figure out the right answer to the question.

That look didn’t last long. Whatever it was Cooper was trying to press down and re-shape into an acceptable answer shattered like a glass bottle. His composure and decorum went with it. Next thing Barker knew, the kid’s face was pressed against his chest as his body heaved with audible sobs.

Damn it, I am not equipped for this.

Though he may have been more prepared than everyone else there. Briggs looked just as caught off-guard as he did, and the medbot wasn’t going to be any help. The flesh and blood medic looked lost, too. Barker shot them all a baffled look as he clumsily patted Cooper’s shoulder. You’re gonna let me do this? Really? “’S’okay. Let it out.” Don’t worry about me telling anyone. I will definitely be drinking enough to forget this. “I’m sorry.”

The words tasted sharp, bitter. I get it. That part was left unspoken, but he did. The empty hole in your head, in your soul. You formed bonds quickly in combat. Cooper might not have had the years of connection Barker had with Juliet, but that wouldn’t make it hurt less. Someone sacrificing themselves for you never went down easily.

Barker gritted his teeth. Definitely drinking tonight.

“You’re safe now,” he said instead. “We’ve got you, kid.”

Cooper’s sobs slowed eventually. He let go of Barker’s jumpsuit, instead tightly hugging himself. He rocked slightly in place—self-soothing, if Barker had to guess—and his eyes stayed clenched shut. “Can’t,” he choked out.

“Can’t what?”

“It…mmph.” His shoulders hunched more tightly, like he was trying to shrink into himself. “Bright.”

Briggs finally snapped out of it and went to dim the lights. The medbot said something to the human medic, who cursed quietly and started digging around through some nearby drawers. Barker, meanwhile, crouched in front of Cooper, trying to catch his gaze. “That better?” A pause. A nod. “Anything hurt? Like, about to drop dead hurt?”

Cooper hugged himself more tightly. Damn it, I’m making things worse again. Barker didn’t think this was a panic attack; he’d seen plenty of those before. So what is it? What’s wrong?

The medic nudged him aside gently and held out something to Cooper. “Here,” she said. “Do you think you can use this?”

She small tablet she’d passed him had an application open with a bunch of buttons. Barker could see an alphabet, and some standard words and phrases. Cooper took the tablet, then stared at the application as if trying to register what he was looking at. After a lengthy pause, he tapped one of the options.

“No.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere. “No, nothing hurts?” Barker guessed. Cooper nodded. “What do you need, kid?”

A pause. This time, Cooper tapped at the letters.

“Alone.”

…yeah. Fair.

“Can we clear the room, guys?” the medic asked. To Cooper, she added, “We’ll be just outside. Come get us if you need anything, okay?”

She seemed confident that Cooper wouldn’t hurt himself or have a heart attack, so Barker followed the others outside. He took one more glance at Cooper as he stepped out, and almost wished he hadn’t. The freshly minted pilot had hunched back over, the tablet hugged tightly to his chest. It was something no one should see, least of all the drunk who’d only just met the poor guy.

Barker looked away. Jack Cooper was going to be the talk of the town when they got back to Harmony. The least they could do was let him grieve in private while he still could.

[quillsareswords]

Hiya! I absolutely adore anyone who loves Damian as much as I, and I know that it said that you aren’t accepting requests rn, but I wanted your thoughts on Damian catching his crush reading FF of Robin x reader! How do you think he’d react?

Red-Handed

DAMIAN WAYNE X TITAN!READER

A/N: yeah I did say requests are closed. yeah I wrote this anyway. I hate it here

WARNINGS: language, mild embarassment, slightly suggestive?

MASTER LIST in BIO

It's pure panic the moment his deceptively skinny fingers come into view.

It's not unusual for him to pluck your phone or a book out of your hands to see what you're doing. Less so for you to do the same. You're nosy people, and it's a weird display of trust. I trust you with my things, with this device that could reveal all my secrets; I trust you not to pry.

You should've known better. You should have expected him to get curious when you were tucked into a corner, squinted down at your phone screen when you could have been swapping incredulous and judgmental glances with him as you listened to Beast Boy and Cyborg's argument over– what was it? Proper burrito filling?

You'd been a little too wrapped up in a story a close friend had sent you. Honestly, you should have known better than to open anything they sent you while you were in public. You should have shut the entire damn device off when you spied an Archive of Our Own link. You should have chucked it out the window when you read the attached message, for you, my horny little Gothamite.

Unfortunately, you're an idiot. Worse, you're a curious idiot. So you opened it.

What you found on the other end of that link was an uncomfortably well written, three-chapter fan fiction about Gotham's one and only (this year) Robin. And goddamn it all to hell, it's really well written.

It absolutely does not help that you've been dating this person for three months, or that you'd been crushing hard for the most of the friendship that came before. Or that this author has written his character just on the right side of accurate.

You'd never thought anyone would write fan fiction about him. It makes sense, in retrospect—it makes complete sense. Friends who don't know all your secrets (and some who sit in this very room) have spent hours giggling around a phone or laptop with hundreds of romantic works about a plethora of other heros (or themselves).

Maybe it was different because you know Robin so personally. Maybe you just liked to think he was yours and only yours.

(He still is. Realistically, you know you've got nothing to worry about. He'd commit a handful of felonies before he betrayed your trust. But hey, monkey brain and all. Plus, he told you once that it's kind of hot when you get– what'd he call it? Territorial.)

There's a scream lodged in your throat as he tries to pull it from your hand. You cinch a death grip on the poor thing, its screen squeaking out a warning that's lost on you. You stare at him wide-eyed with a nervous half-smile that he clocks a mile away. This is the exact same expression that cracked across your face when he caught you raiding his stash of sweets last year.

It only stokes the flames of his curiosity higher.

"If you love me, you'll let go and never speak of this again," you whsiper.

There's a agonizingly long moment where his face barely changes, except for his jaw ticking as he contemplates. You try to click the power button, to darken the screen or something, but his palm is covering it.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he starts slowly, and you feel your whole body tense, "I do love you, very much, but at this exact moment, my curiosity is outweighing it." He jerks the device out of your grip with a twist that cancels out your grip.

Your expression shudders into a cocktail of discomfort and panic. You scramble forward, reaching for it, but he anticipates it and keeps it well out of reach. You hiss profanities, mindful of the ompany you're in who will also definitely come investigating.

The saying curiosity killed the cat is about to get a whole new meaning, and you're about to catch a charge for first-degree murder. Maybe more than one.

He bats you away with one hand, avoiding any decent hits with strategic side-stepping that only works you in a circle. You give up when he scrolls. You deflate the brighter his eyes shine.

You're never going to hear the end of this.

You're gonna have to leave him at the alter when he brings this up in your vows. You'll rise from the grave to beat the shit out of him when he mentions it at your funeral.

He turns to face you slowly. The only way you can describe his expression is cruelly delighted.

You, on the other hand, appear utterly defeated. Pouting. Perhaps verging on manslaughter. "I deserve a trial before you sentence me to public embarrassment."

He cocks an eyebrow. Like the dick he is. "Do you really?"

"My friend sent it to me–"

"You're on chapter two–"

"Well I had to avoid suspicion–"

"You could have lied–"

"It's really well written, okay? Like—you read it! Tell me that isn't good writing!"

He looks back at your phone passively. "I will give you that; I've read published books of worse quality." He scrolls again and his eyebrows raise. He pulls it closer, as if he needs to be sure he's reading it correctly. Or he feels he should hide it. "How much of this have you already read?"

"I got the part where you get to the rooftop– Why does that matter? What happens next?" You shuffle over quickly, leaning into his space to see for yourself.

It's possibly the most graphic make-out scene to ever grace your general vicinity. Your grandmother would be gawking. You could get arrested for playing this out in public. He keeps. Scrolling. It's like a car crash with copious sexual tension. You can't look away.

The two of you stand there for several minutes too long, huddled together in front of your phone, slowly scrolling down through the last paragraphs of the chapter.

At the bottom of the screen, you catch the words bedroom door, and, knowing he reads faster than you, promptly snatch it from his grasp. "Well that was great, let's forget it ever happened." You click back to your homepage (without closing the tab, of course) and shove the phone into your pocket.

When you look at him again, bravely, prepared for the next few weeks of relentless, albeit good-natured, teasing, you find his stupid smug little smile.

He crosses his arms. He cocks his head. Still wearing that smug expression that drives you up walls for a lot of different reasons. Yet, no ribbing remarks.

Until:

"You know, if you wanted a little more excitement in this relationship, you need only ask." He steps closer, uncrossing his arms to slide his hands into his pockets. And like the suave motherfucker he's come to be for you, he leans a little closer. "After all, why bother with fiction when you have the real thing at your fingertips?"

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

4 years, 40 facts about me loving napo... let's go 🏃🏻‍♀️

...or as @leonscape called it, 40 "Mopoleon" facts?! (picrew link)

the date of our "anniversary", June 19th, is one day after the date of the battle of Waterloo 💀

both our given names are of Italian origin

we're both leo zodiac signs

our birthdays are 8 days apart, in the same month

he's my first otome route ever played

i've only played his route once, in July 2019

i've never seen his dramatic ending

my first impression of him on a teaser tweet of ikevamp EN was that he looks like an asshole, and I didn't like his looks either...

my falling for him was utterly illogical as despite these thoughts I put him on my phone wallpaper a few days later (still before the release of ikevamp EN)

as of right now ao3 says he appears in 59 of my posted works: the total number of fics I have published with him is higher as a few of those are stand-alones in a multichapter fic (napoleon bday prompts 2019 +9, yumeweek 2020 +5, mini requests +4, headcanons +11 ) ...he appears in about 1/3 of all my fics!

we share a hobby of reading biographies! the official ikevamp character sheets state it as his hobby

our height difference is 18 cm

the @xxsycamore blog exists solely because of him, as well as my passion for writing - I started this blog because I wanted to express my love in some kind of creative way, as previously (and for the longest time) I thought my medium would be art instead of writing

despite that, my first ever posted fic is not with him but with Arthur!

I've always loved languages but he had influence over my choice of learning especially french in uni. It's hell but I don't regret it at all

I have a playlist with sleepy-themed songs for him 🥺

birds are my favorite animals (any kind) and he has a pet eagle!!

our mbti personality types are a so-called perfect match! infp + enfj

I don't like black-haired, blue-eyed men because of him, it was my type before him too! (not many such ikemens around but I have a handful of faves like that from other media)

as the fictional napoleon bonaparte is light years away from the historical figure, I thought I wouldn't be interested in learning about him - until I ended up reading multiple books on him, the thickest of which 680 pages... while I don't mix the two in my head, the napoleonic era history (+ russian empire history) is still pretty cool to know imo!

there's hardly any writer around here who hasn't received a napoleon request from me at least once... I'm so sorry...

it is implied in the game that napo has kissed boys (they were taking turns waking him up and they all know of his habit......) which gives me enough reason to headcanon him as bi....like me 🥺

I really suck at completing the bday creation challenges I host for him, as last year I did 0 prompts and the year before that 2....but in 2019 I did 10!

I love making bday gifts. I love birthdays. I don't have the exact number but last year a lot of characters received a bday fic from me but not napo 💀 partly because I was shadowbanned back then!

the only real tradition I have when it comes to his bday is to make homemade crepes since it's his favorite food! but my favorite part is eating them...

I still haven't watched the movie "Napoleon & Me"...

I don't have much napo merch, but I do have the Naplushieon doll which is plenty

I was still in highschool (11th grade) when I fell for him 🥺🥺🥺 it feels like ages ago

I love the song written for the ikevamp stage play and sung by his voice actor Nobunaga Shimazaki, "Lucida", so much you can even find it and play it on my blog... recently some kind soul uploaded the whole version on youtube (I've been waiting for so long....) and I haven't been the same since

my dream napo merch is the clothes hanger with his neck and face so that I can hang my silly little sundresses on him (I'm going to make it on my own actually, just watch)

after having so many random fic ideas for him that will never see the light of day, I accepted the facts at last and now I feel so much better and more chill

I'm currently working on fanart series where I try to post one tablet-drawn art of him every month... I have trouble keeping them simple as desired sometimes but I'm having lots of fun while learning (I still consider myself fairly new to drawing with my tablet)

once I wrote a death anniversary fic for napo!

the best napo song i've discovered so far is Wings by Su!YoON!

I don't know. anything. about his sequel. i just know the cgs. not that is hard to avoid spoilers LMAO

my most favorite napo cg is the 5th bday one (where they're in a field of roses) (it was on my phone's background for a very long time)

my most favorite napo card...that's a trick question but I think the one that is on the left banner in my blog (desktop view)

yes, yes I do want to go to Corsica one day what about it. I have a lot of other dream trip destinations too!

yes, I do love Napoleon cake (It's a russian recipe) (it was my bday cake in 2020)... but so do I love a whole lot of other cakes...!

Fact number 40 is that I love Napoleon a normal amount 😇 nono listen!! I do talk a lot about him, and here I tried compilating facts that are not too cheesy: believe it or not there are days I don't think about him, ok! I never pressure myself to get all the event bonus stories, or to always have a fic ready for him... in a world where im a worrywart about anything and everything, he's my safe place? my chill place? And if I begin to think about the gigantic mass of things surrounding him that are exactly aligning with what I love, with what comforts me, with what traits im looking for in a person, i'm going to get dizzy. So let's end this here with me saying, ily so much Napoleon 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 im such a nunuche sometimes but im your nunuche ‼️‼️

[pastafossa]

so i've asked briefcasejuice about this already but i'd also like your take too - since you're part of the daredevil tumblr fandom council and all ...

I'm writing this scene and one of my ocs asks matt if he can handle spicy food and i wanted him to explain this whole thing about pain receptors in his mouth being "sensitive"... and how he hated pineapple because of the bromelain...(the substance that breaks up the protein in your mouth, that's why it's tingly)

and then my oc asks about like regular "body" pain since touch is after all one of the senses of his that have been heightened, and he explains something along the lines of even if the feeling of pain is heightened -- his body isn't actually weaker or more sensitive - so while he gets injured like anyone else he feels the pain of those injuries differently (more). over time he has gotten used to it but its still something he's working on as he hurts himself worse with every fight.

WHAT I'M GETTING AT is that i came to @briefcasejuice about this because they're very knowledgeable about matt stuff and comic matt especially, and they told me it did sound pretty accurate - so now i guess i just want to know -

how do you interpret or view matt's sensibility when it comes to pain - and if it came up in TRT (which maybe it did and i forgot oops?) how would you write it out?

and btw - congrats on the mango thing!! what's next on the fruit discovery journey 🤨 (what else can i be shocked that you didn't try)

Ok first of I love the idea of a Daredevil tumblr fandom council, because now I've got the image of all of us gathered solemnly to talk about DD fandom topics and headcanons like

Second off, ooooh this is a good question. I can't remember if I've ever gotten deep into it in TRT, although it'll probably come up eventually. But I absolutely agree with @briefcasejuice, and with your take on it. This seems right, for a couple reasons, including my own experience with pain.

So a lot of this is based on my own issues (and one of the reasons I relate really strongly to Matt's sense of touch, touch starvation, and pain, and when writing generally include him being comforted and going near comatose beneath gentle touch). Without getting too specific, due to chronic pain and health problems, I experience something called allodynia - "pain due to a stimulus that does not normally provoke pain." Basically, my nerves are all spun up to 11 and even light sensation often reads as pain, regardless of whether I'm actually hurt - Matt's comment about 'cotton feels like sandpaper on my skin'? I get that, cause rough fabric's painful to me (another ex: put icy hot on my skin once, just about clawed it off my arm because I was convinced something had gone wrong and it was burning me). And on bad days, even very soft fabrics or, hell, a breeze, any sensation anywhere I have nerves feel like bits of glass grinding into a burn. Best explanation I have for a really bad day. And we know Matt's sense of touch is heightened. So I often think he feels a lot like me, and how you described it feels right.

Everything hurts more, even if you're not being hurt more, and even if your body's strong enough physically to take whatever's being done. Physically, there's no reason his body can't handle cotton sheets, or a food with acid, and God knows the man can take a punch. Functionally, his body is fine. But his nerves don't act that way. They send way more signals than they need to, and sure, this helps if he's trying to use them to his own advantage, but it also means he's left wide open to a far higher degree of pain from stimuli that most of us would consider more minor (pineapple, in this case) along with the pain we all regularly avoid.

Does he mostly block it out? Yes. Especially on a day to day, to the point where he may actually miss smaller injuries because he's focused on tuning out other, larger pains. I know I do - your brain eventually just goes 'oh new baseline and I still need to live so Imma put everything below it into the background so it doesn't stop us doing what we need to'. I hug people, I touch things that are rough, I use hot water with the dishes, and if I focus on it, I remember that it hurts a bit, but I've learned to tune that out for the most part. Much like me, Matt's dealt with this for years, so while he does what he can (soft sheets, avoiding certain foods, wearing certain types of clothes), he's gotten used to a lot of the day to day stuff he can't avoid, though like you said, as the injuries pile up, it just gets worse and worse as that pain stacks. Some of it might be tempered by surges of adrenaline and endorphins (why I theorize he can fight even when injured - tune it out thanks to all the practice, PLUS fighting so ferociously that his body pumps him up until he can ignore it, at least until he crashes afterwards, and crashes hard), but he's definitely feeling it far, far worse.

So I basically think it's likely, especially when pain is stacking, that he's just made a bunch of calculations for his everyday life on what's worth the pain and what isn't - certain foods? No point. Cotton sheets? No point. There is no benefit, and so he comfortably avoids it, whereas going out to fight he generally always sees as worth it since there's a tangible benefit. Those calculations at least are something we all do every day - we decide the pain of a tattoo or working out or that sour candy is worth it cause it gives us something we like. Matt just takes it up to 11. I can absolutely see him taking something like, say, pineapple - tingly and acidic - and not only feeling pain when eating it but also just literally running the mental math and going, 'yeah not worth it' because he's in enough pain day to day thanks to injuries and other things he can't avoid.

In summary: you're right and I headcanon Matt operates much like someone who's been dealing with allodynia for a while, which means he'd feel more pain from stimuli even if it's not hurting him, so he chooses things in his day-to-day to avoid and then just throws himself into the pain on big things and hopes the endorphins and adrenaline will help him tune it out.

LASTLY THANK YOU ON THE MANGO! I cannot BELIEVE I went so long without knowing how fucking delicious they were. New fruits I haven't tried that are on my list now that I realized I need to find if there are MORE DELICIOUS UNKNOWNS LIKE MANGOS: boysenberries, figs, grapefruit, guava, kumquats, passionfruit, papaya, prickly pears, and satsumas!

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

A Deals A Deal (Part 2)

Note: People really liked the Demon!Scar idea I had, and while I don’t have a play by play of chapters or a whole plot (other than Slow Burn), I can write scenes as I go. To read Part 1, look for the reblog I did for @bluiex to read the AroAce Anon’s version and the one I did. :)

As a side note, this will get into religious themes, into areas that might piss off some very hard core Christians out there. For my own sake I’m saying this now, this is all made up stuff using source material. Most might be accurate, most might be my interpretation, and some of it is just bullshit I made up. 

I’ll also be making references to Hells Belles alot, so yeah...

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy.

-

The cats were happy now, as Scar was petting Pearl with a silly grin, Grian was making something for himself, and Scar said he doesn’t really eat people food. He was trying not to think about what that could mean. “So the terms are as I make them right? And depending on what I ask depends on the price?” Grian asked Scar as he sat down in the arm chair. 

“Yup!” Scar said cheerfully to him, “Everything has a price, and each price gets higher. Persay you want to be a million air, the cost might be your humanity or a part of your soul.” he explained while giggling when the cat pawed his face for attention. “Oh Jellie would be so jealous.”

Grian took in that info, frowning slightly as he thought about it. “you can sell ‘parts’ of your soul?” he echoed, finding that very odd, he would have thought a soul as a whole thing.

“Basically,” Scar’s tail hugged his waist now bringing up his feet to sit cross legged on the very worn couch. “By selling a part of yourself, it makes reincarnation a little harder in the afterlife. Demons don’t have much use for anything but souls, save for the Princes who can use anything. Most of us deal in souls and soul halves. The more souls a demon has, the more power they have.” 

The frown stayed on Grian’s face, “So is it anything like what the bible says?” he asked a bit worried now.

Shrugging at him, “Not entirely, I mean there are punishment levels for truly even souls that come there. But reincarnation wouldn’t even be a thing is people were always tortured. New Souls, like yourself, are very very rare to come around.” Scar grinned at him, showing off fangs. 

“New souls?” Grian instinctively placed a hand on his chest.

The demon gave a cheerful nod, the smile staying on his face. “Most souls are recycles, most of the gods don’t make new souls these days, not with how many people there already are in the world.” he explained messing with Pearl’s paws, “New Souls are rare because of this, it means you’ve not been reincarnated once, and this if your first chance at life. The more a soul reincarnates, the less shiny it gets.

“As for the idea that you’ll be tortured just for make a deal? What good would that benefit me, or you? If you’ve been a mostly good person, most it does is you have a chance to become a demon, or get the pretty basic afterlife most Satanist get.” the grin showed again, “but not many stay good people once they make a deal, power gets to you humans head. Free will and all that.”

Silence rang after that as Grian sat back with a heavy huff, his mind was reeling a bit from all of this. “So, if all of this is pretty much common knowledge, why do people still get it wrong or have their own versions.”

Scar tilted his head, “Why do you humans do any type of lies or control? Power.” he said simply. “What started as a common theme branched from different experiences happening. The Gods and Goddesses themselves, and the God of many mono religions, approach everyone differently. From this, religions were made, and some changed to just better keep society going, for better or worse. I mean, you live in a capitalistic society, surely you know by now control is how anything works.”

Running clawed fingers through Peral’s fur, Scar smiled, “Ultimately what you believe in just determines your afterlife of choice, the universal rule is Don’t Be A Dick... which you people have a hard time doing.” he looked thoughtful, “Cubby put it best when he said: ‘The bar is in the crust of the earth, and some people like making digging their hobby’.” he let out another snicker.

That was again alot to unpack as Grian was in thought now, eating his cup of ramen while Scar seemed preoccupied on Pearl and now Maui. This did change alot of his world view, given Scar was bound to tell him the truth, it was enough to shake his foundation again. Great he already had enough of that when he left his parents house. But... here he was, with a literal demon in his apartment petting his cats, and telling him the world was mostly built on lies.

Well... that part he already knew from watching enough TV shows and reading internet stuff. 

“So, to make a deal.” Scar said snapping Grian out of his head, “Given you’re a new soul, if you offer that I’d give you anything you want.” a smirk, “And i do mean anything, being I run punishments on level 8 means I’ve got alot of influence in Hell.”

Grian swallowed hard at that as he could feel Scar eyeing him with interest, the idea that other was staring at his soul was unnerving. “I’ll be honest Scar, I didn’t think this would work, much less what I’d have asked for! I thought Demons were fake, and this was to prove to myself it was.” he groaned a bit setting his cup of ramen down.

. . .

“Then let’s take this a day at a time then?” Scar suggested in his cheerful tone, “Given I’m bound to you now, you can call me whenever you think you need something, we negotiate price, and go from there.” a clap of the hands he grinned, “Plus it’s been years since I’ve been in the human world, I’ve always wanted to see what you guys have been up to!”

Grian turned to Scar at that mouth gapped, “What?” he balked a bit as Scar had a cheeky grin on his face.

“First thing though, a better place for the two of us, i heard there are alot of Victorian houses for fresh college grads like yourself.” Scar said standing up as the cats jumped off him. “real cheap room and housing, haunted and all that, and I like to mess with spirits anyway.” he waved his hand off. “Rent is better there than here, trust me.”

The demon walked past him chattering away as Grian bewildered, “Wait you’re moving in with me!?” he asked getting up to follow Scar out of the room. Only to pause and quickly swipe the ramen cup before Maui could inspect it for food, and rushing back to Scar. “But why bother moving in when I could just summon you again?” he asked.

“Like I said, I’ve missed being on the mortal plane. We don’t get to leave Hell often, why do you think it’s so hard to get us to leave a house?” Scar scoffed as if that was just the most logical thing ever. Grian could only stare at him as Scar went back to the room where Grian’s phone was still on the bed. 

Scar was already typing as Grian made a shocked sound, “What how did you get into my phone?” he asked but Scar didn’t answer. 

“Look you want out of this hole of a house right?” Scar asked, as Grian went to speak, “Yes or No, Grian, it’s a simple question.” he teased, blinking a few times Grian nodded. “So, this is a free on the house thing, to get us both out of this place, and into a place with history, room, and in a better part of town.” Scar beamed going back to searching.

“really don’t know why you moved to America of all places.” Scar said casually, “but we’ll make it work, exploiting a system is what I do best. And eventually we’ll find what you want to trade that pretty soul of yours for.”

Grian placed a hand on his chest again as if trying to hide his ‘soul’ from Scar’s view. That made a pit of unease settle in his stomach, Scar didn’t seem to notice or care as he kept looking. “Well, you don’t exactly look hum-” he was cut off as in a blink of the eye, Scar was in a hoodie, jeans, with no horns, blueish transparent wings, or even a tail... he looked human. “Um...” Grian muttered

All he got in response was a playful smirk, and Grian decided to not say anything. At least he was getting out of this place, and he didn’t have to trade anything for it. He left to go throw away the empty cup and just... process all of this. 

-

The old Victorian house was... well old. It had faded red and brown paint, with green moss growing with English ivy on the stone foundation and walls. Ominous was the right word for it. 

Scar was beaming, “The owner of it is more than happy to rent us two rooms, apparently the other tenants staying said something about a demon in the house. Cubby likes to mess with people.” he said casually leading the way in, “Comes fully furnished already, which means no more cough that smells like cat litter. And this place is pet friendly, I think the owner is just desperate to not have to sell to the bank.” he joked.

As if one demon wasn’t already enough, Maui protested in his carrier as he hated being in it. Scar was carrying Pearl’s carrier, and Grian could only sigh as they started to unpack what he had to bring inside. The owner, a man named Scott had told him he had to at least live here for 10 years, and rent was super cheap. He didn’t seem to care so long as he up kept the house and cleaned up after himself. Seemingly too tired really given the last people here left in the middle of the night after...  ‘Cubby’ had threw knives after the husband, kept making the daughter draw creepy pictures (which were still on tapped to the wall), and gave the wife nightmares and scratch marks. Also something about blood running out of the walls, smell of death, one college student getting possessed and taking out lights around the area, another getting pushed and locked in the basement when home alone, and something about a pentagram in the attic and occult book that Scott just left in the house!

Well at least it was cheap.

Scar had possibly already wandered off to catch up with his old friend, leaving Grian to unpack in his room and set up the litter boxes. Letting the cats explore around the house. No doubt he’d be meeting ‘Cubby’ some time soon and frankly he was trying not to think about that.

Sighing heavily, Grian petted Pearl when she passed by, so his roommate was now two demons, in a very haunted old mansion, a landlord that was sketchy as fuck, and armed with new knowledge that most religions were bullcrap.

Oh and said Demon was trying to get him to pawn off his ‘New Soul’ and seemed very eager to try anything. given on the drive here Scar kept making offer after offer to Grian to make a deal with him. Ranging from money, love, happiness, 3 inches below the belt... Who would sell their soul for only 3 inches! go for at least 5.

Shaking his head, Grian put it out of his mind, as Mumbo said he’d be heading over later to check out the new place. He really hoped Scar and this ‘Cubby’ played nice.

-------

That’s about all I have for now guys, between here and when Scar starts to explore more will have a gap. Also more Hermits will join as Grian’s ‘roommates’ and will be the subject of Cub’s ‘Pranks’. If you can call pushing, clawing, biting, and making blood rain down ‘pranks’. 

Most won’t stick around long, and a few might be demons themselves. Grian is gonna become the center of attention for his soul. And Scar is gonna be a jealous Demon. 

[sophia-sol]

Paladin's Faith, by T. Kingfisher

Any book by Ursula Vernon (the author behind the Kingfisher penname) will have certain features, and those inherent features are ones that keep me coming back book after book to everything she writes. I love how she does worldbuilding, and I love her practical get-things-done heroines, and I love how everything's always grounded in the odd specific annoyances of what it would actually be like to be in the fantastical circumstances she writes about. And she does SUCH good road trips! So many opportunities to run into fun NPCs and cool regional worldbuilding!

I'm not quite the right audience for her paladin romances, unfortunately -- I think because I just get too irritated by the depth and breadth of their ability to feel guilty about absolutely everything. But I keep reading them because I'm having fun with everything else anyway, and because the wider arc of the business with the dead god fascinates me, and we get a bit more about it every book!

This book, though, feels to me a little less successful than the previous paladin romances in the series. It feels a bit too much to me like several different books squished into one, I think, instead of like multiple strands of the same book, and I just don't love all of those books.

There's the one where Marguerite is trying to get herself free of the Red Sail by finding the missing artificer and leaking the plans for the salt-making mechanism and thereby destabilizing the economy of the whole region, and there's the one with the Dreaming God's paladins and the Saint of Steel's soul-scarred ex-paladins dealing with the demon who wants to be a god, and there's the one about the romance between Marguerite and Shane.

The first one is a perfectly good spy plot, not really my go-to genre of book but fun enough, and I do enjoy the temple of the white rat being willing to meddle in these things.

The second one is FASCINATING to me and I want to think about the implications forever and I want more details!!!

The third one is….yet another guilt-ridden paladin romance………also featuring a spy who doesn't trust anyone but just KNOWS in her HEART that she can trust HIM and he's the exception to everything about how she's conducted her life. It's just really really not my kind of romance story. Also both of them are extremely allosexual and are continually having their higher brain functions disabled by how attractive the other person is and it just seems comically over-the-top to me, an ace person who Doesn't Get It. (okay I AM charmed by the type of kinky not-quite-bondage that Shane turns out to be really into when Marguerite is like, ok I gotta find SOME way of achieving good sex with this guy who can't get out of his own head about anything.)

I'm sure the romance part of the book is good for some people! but that's um. not what I read Kingfisher romances for, surprise surprise.

So let's go back to the demon who wants to be a god, shall we? I was FASCINATED by Wisdom and by what demons are. And by the implications of what a god is, too, tbh.

Wisdom seems to genuinely care about its followers to some degree, has figured out how to live as a part of the world, has thoughts and feelings and motivations and relationships and goals. It's definitely been doing some worrying stuff, but is it any more evil than a really powerful human can be? What ARE demons, and what makes them appreciably different from gods, in the end, in this world? They clearly CAN have comparable types of bonds with humans if they so choose, and some gods are definitely terrible if I'm remembering stuff from previous books, so why couldn't demons have the possibility of being basically okay.

And what is Hell? It's the place where demons are from, and it's the place where paladins can bind a demon to never be able to leave (if they're powerful enough to manage the binding), and from what little we hear from Wisdom about it, it seems like an undesirable place to be. Wouldn't most folks kind of suck in some respect if their entire prior existence was in a place like Hell?

I really hope this series is going in a direction of non-evil demons tbh! maybe even….some of the major gods today having previously been demons? Maybe the saint of steel was a demon and someone murdered him because of that!

anyway my increasing pro let-demons-be-people agenda means I feel weird at the end of this book about Shane taking up with the Dreaming God in the end, the god who is well known to be virulently anti-demon. Is this god unambiguously a good guy and nothing else?

I'll be very curious to see where this whole plot continues!

[somedaytakethetime]

And continuing where I left off from this will be part two of the thingie. I just didn't want to keep writing on that part, I can't explain why. My brain doesn't make sense to me either, so... all I know is that there was a clear line that I needed to divide between parts and thus I'm doing it.

Notes: This part will be more.. rated. Granted, nothing too graphic because this is still mostly about feelings and human, emotional connections. But still, this part gets more heated and mature than the previous one. So.. the youthlings probably shouldn't read it, but I don't know the etiquette on that one..

Word count: 3 098 words

She feels good. Soft, and warm and pliable. Her skin is like silk under his hands. Her hair tickles his face as she melts forward. Her nails are digging into his chest as she moves above him. He digs his own fingers into the flesh of her hipbones, she's feels so good. Smells sweet, sounds sweet too. Little broken, whined mewls coming from her. He laughs, soft and desperate, nearly a mad laugh. He's losing his mind, he figures, but how can he not? This is the nicest feeling he's had in decades, possibly in his whole life. She whispers his name, in a whiny tone, right there in his ear. He clings to her, pulls her down deeper, reaches one hand up to brush her hair away. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her lips are just as pink. He wants to bite her, to write his name all over her, to steal her away and never let anyone set eyes on her again. She's his, and he doesn't like sharing. She's whining softly, higher and higher, desperate to reach that bliss he wants just as badly. "Fucking hell, I've been dreaming about this for so long now.." his voice sounds rough to his own ears, he sounds a little drunk he thinks. He feels drunk too. There's a haziness to everything, the bright golden light from the sun setting is blinding, it floods the room and makes his eyes almost squint to look at her. She says something he doesn't understand, he struggles to hear her but she starts to sound quieter and quieter, her hips slip from his hands, he tries to grasp for her, to hold her, but he feels like he can't touch her anymore. He's desperately trying to cling to her body, to pull her closer, but it all just fades away before he can fall into the bliss he was so desperate for. His eyes open, '06:30' flashes on the bedside clock in the dark room. There's an ache in his groin, he's hard and it's painful. He sighs, rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling. 'Different night, same shit as usual' he's angry and frustrated, throws the covers back and gets up, walks into the bathroom, turns on the shower and gets in. Freezing water this early is terrible for the bones, but amazing for the muscles. It's especially good at shocking his system off of wanting things it cannot have.

He's come to realise that he wants her. Craves her attention, her approval, everything. She refuses to get near him, builds a closer bond with his best friends, and he's deeply jealous of that. Because none of them can have her, nor do they even care to at all, and yet he can but she refuses to give him the time of her day. And he hates being ignored and overlooked. It's petty, he's well aware, but he's petty. If she's going to shower other men in attention, then it's only fair she showers him in attention too. He nearly pouts and stomps his foot, he's so aggravated about the whole situation that he kicks the ball far harder than he ought to have. His mate falls to the ground, clutching his family jewels, "Jesus.. fuck-.. CHRIST!" he's startled, he didn't mean to do that, "Fucking hell, mate, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he rushes to help him up, gets the strongest glare he's ever gotten and his friend says through gritted teeth, "You're lucky I've had all the kids I wanted to because otherwise..." he leaves the threat hanging in the air, curses and grunts again, takes deep breaths as he tries not to cry. He's well aware how much a ball to the.. well.. to the balls.. hurts. Especially with how forcefully he kicked.. he didn't mean to hurt anyone, he wasn't even paying attention. His anger and frustration got the best of him and he's embarrassed about it. He looks apologetic as his friend finally straightens up, "You owe me big time for that shit.", he lifts his hands "Mate, anything you ask. Consider it done." he watches his friend limp off as he gathers his gear, he's surveying the surroundings to see if anyone saw that happening. His eyes then land of her. The reason why he just nearly killed a man on an open field. She was watching them. Her hand is covering her face. He realises, with giddiness, that she's trying not to laugh. 'Oh.. so you thought that was funny, hm? Well...' he smirks at her and she doesn't look away, her face turns pinker and pinker the harder she tries not to laugh. His eyes don't leave her face, he keeps smirking pleased with himself that he managed to amuse her. Follows everyone else as they walk out and before he disappears inside he turns back to look at her, she's openly laughing now that everyone is gone, and he can't help himself "Not very polite of you to laugh at someone else's misfortune, is it? That hurts, you know?" and she nods at him, quieting her laugh, "I'm sure it does but.. his face was too funny, I'm sorry." he feels his chest growing even bigger, stands up to full height as she gets closer, "Well.. I'm glad I could amuse you, even if at the cost of someone's jewels.." and he dares to wink at her, watches her face turn pink and she laughs again, walks inside feeling like he owns the world in that moment.

She's so warm. And slick. And it feels so good. She's melting all over the mattress, twisting the sheets in her hands, moaning and whining softly. Her hips feel so solid, so pliable, under his hands. He's the only reason why they're still standing up, her whole body is limp now. He feels her thighs shaking from time to time against his own, feels her trembling as he slows down, down, down. Drags in and out of her, making her whine louder, shiver and shake. They're both covered in a layer of sweat, there's slickness down her thighs and he sees the glinting when he looks down between them. He smirks and leans forward, starts kissing a path up her back, all the way to her shoulder. Digs his teeth into the soft flesh and laughs a teasing, soft laugh when she whines and says his name. "What is it, baby? What's wrong?" he asks, full of playfulness, he knows exactly what's wrong but he wants to hear her say it, wants her to beg for it, wants her to get desperate and whiny like she was before. Wants to drive her crazy, as crazy as she drives him, wants her at the brink of madness and need for him. Because he's at the brink for her. Wants to bite her and spell out his name against her skin, wants to tattoo it on her back even, just so he can see his name on her. He thinks their names would look amazing paired together. Her odd words break the spell, he shakes his head, "Excuse me?" and hears it, not in her voice now, but in a man's voice, "Are you listening to me?? What the fuck are you grinning about?? You think that was funny??" his friend's face is suddenly across from him again, he's no longer in that bedroom having the most bliss he can, "I-.." "You're not even listening to what I'm saying! What are you thinking about, mate?! You're constantly lost lately, the fuck is up with you?? I swear, this is getting out of hand.." he gets hit with a grape from an annoyed friend, the boys start talking amongst themselves again and he feels deeply embarrassed. He's a little hard, he was having a sex fantasy in the middle of lunch, surrounded by people and to his biggest shame.. he realises that she's been watching him the whole time.

He can't sleep. He just can't do it. Every time he closes his eyes, she's there. Moaning, whining, mewling, clawing at his skin, saying his name, clenching around him, driving him further and further insane. He just can't take it anymore. He huffs angrily, '02:03' is flashing on the clock and he doesn't care. He gets up, pulls on his joggers and a tshirt and just walks out. It's too cold to go outside like this but where he's going he doesn't need to be warm. He walks outside, the deepest, darkest sky greeting him. The wind is freezing and it wraps him in it's cold embrace immediately. His skin pebbles and he shivers, he let's his whole body sink in to the feeling of being cold as he walks down the steps slowly. Watches the stars glittering off against the deep ocean, hears the waves and feels finally at peace. He walks to that old familiar door, unlocks it and gets inside. It's warmer in here. It's meant to be warm in here, even without the steam turned on. He takes a seat at the furthest corner, where he normally sits when he's here to actually use the place, and allows his body to relax and slide down on the hard wood bench. He gets as comfortable as he possibly can against the wood, his legs curl in on their own, and he fixates on the ocean. The waves rolling slowly in and out, the wind whistling softly, the few stars in the sky looking like diamonds. He doesn't know what to do. He's plagued by visions of her. In all sorts of compromising positions. With him. His frustration, along with his desire, have grown heavier and heavier inside him. He refuses to break. He won't allow himself to do. That's probably why he's been getting increasingly more restless. It's a natural thing to do, something that he does quite a lot actually. But now? He finds that he can't. He doesn't want to disrespect her image. She hasn't consented to being used as fuel for his depraved fantasies while he strokes himself for relief and he's always been highly moralistic. He can't use her image in that way, no matter how badly he wants to. And it wouldn't feel the same. He knows what his hands feel like, it's not the feeling he's been chasing in his dreams, asleep and awake, every day now. He finds that the thoughts consume him the most when he's around her. He can smell her perfume even when she's a good distance from him, as if his own body has narrowed in on her and now won't let her go. She's growing more and more comfortable with him too. She still doesn't talk much, but she's getting closer and closer, stands and sits beside him now at times. Watches him intensely, as if she's trying to gauge what level of threat he might pose to her. Like an hesitant rabbit wondering if she should trust the hound. He wants to reassure her, to tell her she can trust the hound, but.. as his need and fantasies grow heavier, more depraved, more frequent.. he's not sure he can lie to her so blatantly.

He wakes up with a sore back. His left arm is asleep and his ankle is hurting so badly from being wedged against the hard wood that it makes him curse. He gets up, and winces. It must be incredibly early, there isn't a star in the sky and it's as dark as ever. He gets his phone out '04:55' it shows. He barely slept. But it was blissfully dreamless. Exactly what he needed. Maybe he should start sleeping on the floor, the pain might help him with the dreams. He limps a little as he walks away and back up the stairs, his body takes it's time to adjust and endure all the pain and tiredness 'You're not as young as you used to be, mate.. that was a bad idea..' he'll be painful and sore all day, and he'll have to pretend he's not. Which makes it worse. He's tired of pretending. He's been dealing with so much pain lately. Internal and external. It's getting unbearable to pretend he's okay and he's not human, it's all getting heavy again. He needs some relief but he doesn't know how to get it, so, he does the best he can to help himself. Takes a warm shower once he's back in his room, allows the water to run down his achy body, sits down and just let's the deep bone tired feeling he has sink in. The water soothes him and lulls him again, he's drowsy when he walks out and barely managed to towel off before he gives up and crawls back into bed, falling into a deep sleep. A black abyss. It's better than all the depravity he's been living with. But it's lonely. Painfully cold and uncomfortable. He's all alone. In an endless black room, the void engulfing everything. There's echoes all around him. Self doubt, insecurity, criticism. Insults and cruel words that have been directed at him all his life. Comparisons and impossible to meet standards. Loss, sorrow, pain. A devastating sadness consumes him, he's inside his body yet somehow watching himself crumble too. Trauma he's experienced, the loss of dearly loved ones, broken friendships and betrayals, broken toxic relationships.. he both feels himself break down and watches himself break down. Heavy, painful sobs erupting from his body. He shakes and feels years of hurt flow out of him after so many decades of burying them further and further down. He wakes up in a cold sweat, frantic, face wet with tears. The clock says '06:49' and he wants to keep crying. He doesn't know how he's going to face the day.

By shutting down as he always does. Except this time it doesn't work. Because, luck of all lucks, he's ill. A burning fever that makes him dizzy, he can't see straight, the coaches force him to go back and rest for the day even as he fights them and tells them he's fine, "You cannot, and you will not, 'deal with it'. Don't be ridiculous. Your body needs rest and it'll get it." he keeps arguing with them, he's here to do a job and he will, but he's too poorly, and for the first time someone else out-stubborns him. "You're being ridiculous! You can't be serious if you think you can work like this. Be quiet, I'm taking you back. End of conversation." she takes hold of his arm and drags him back out the doors. Like an angel sent to save him from himself. She scoffs and huffs, calls him foolish, as she leads him back to his room. Refuses to let him win as he tries to argue he'll be fine on his own once she delivers him, wants to help him into bed instead and he, almost embarrassed, tells her he can't handle laying in bed clothed. "So? Take it off then, I don't care. Just lay down." she turns her back and waits for him to drop his clothes and get in bed, he feels shy taking his clothes off with her in the room.. which is ridiculous after all the dreams he's had about her... but he can't help it. Feels vulnerable and weak, he's in pain and dizzy, the fever is burning him alive and it's hard to breath. He curls in on his side, wants to call his mother, for a moment feels like a little boy needing comfort. She sits down on his bed and brushes his hair back, smiles softly down at him, "I'll go get some painkillers and some medication. Don't move." and he nods slowly, feels his eyes watering as he watches her leave. 'I don't want to be alone.', keeps watching the clock, counting the seconds and minutes it takes her to come back, nearly cries when she opens the door again. "Here, I've got you something that will help." she gives them the meds, helps him drink the water, brushes his hair in such a tender way that he gets teary. "I have snacks too, you'll have to eat eventually." he just nods and looks at her with adoration, 'I love you' his illness-addled brain thinks in a mopey, mushy voice. He asks, like a scared boy, "Are you going to leave now?" and feels relief sink deep into his bones when she shakes her head, "No, I don't think you're in condition to be alone right now. I'll stay until you feel better. Or until you want me to leave." he nods and keeps looking at her. If he wasn't so affected by the fever, the nightmares still haunting him, he wouldn't have said it but he needs comfort. 'I don't want to be alone.', "Can you lay down?" and she's so sweet, an angel, smiles softly and lays down next to him. Holds his hands, caresses them, looks the most comfortable with him, so much more than with anyone else. "I won't leave you, you know? You can sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." for the first time in many years he breaks down. Hides his face and cries, she doesn't judge nor look weirded out, just holds him, pets his hair and says softly "You're okay, I won't leave. I'm right here, you know? You don't have to be alone." and his voice says, soft and small like a child's, "I don't want to be alone. I'm so lonely, I'm so tired of everything." he sees it in her eyes. She understands. Deeply. There's pain in her eyes, she's suffered too he realises. He wishes he knew how and why. He desperately wants to get to know her. To know her dreams, her hopes, her sorrow and her pain. Wants her to open up to him as achingly badly as he wants to open up to her. He knows that they'll understand each other, they just need to be given the chance. He recognises the same steel in her that he has in himself. A beautiful creature, hardened by sorrow and a troubled life. She sees him in that moment, unlike anyone has ever seen him, and just smiles. Her hand cups his face so tenderly that tears overflow from his eyes, he's never been touched so gently. "I'm here now, you don't ever have to be alone."

[but-ter-flie-ge]

Finally. My reread of Crooked Kingdom actually did happen.

I was way more excited for the second book of the duology. So my prediction consisted of me rushing through SOC and then starting CK a bit less as if the apocalypse is going to break out if I don't finish it within a few days.

Jokes on me: I got so excited about different scenes that I still flew through it. So my brain is jumbled and my life is falling apart but I guess I did finish it, no?

For my first read of the second book in the duology, I actually understood the hype a bit more. It granted us the last two background stories of the characters and had a whole lot more banter. Which is one of the strongest elements of the books. However, I feel like CK manages the riddles and hidden plans of Kaz way better. It feels more deliberate than just being based on pure luck. Not everything of course and it probably still is 80% luck but it is covered up more thoroughly.

There were just so many details I simply forgot and was shocked to learn about once more. Even things I hadn't fully understood the last time I read it.

The writing style is a bit more poetic in my point of view. I could be wrong but that's what it felt like and I think it gives the text an emotional smoothness in-between the edges that come with the fighting and the comedy.

Still the pacing is awry sometimes.

The point of view changes get so frustrating in some parts which I didn't feel too much in the first book.

If you shoot someone and the next page is a lengthy description of what the surroundings look like, I won't read that. Or I will read it but my brain will zone out of this universe. For others this may work but not for me.

What I need to add to this though is that when there is a brawl at the end of the one character it is almost certain the next one will experience something that reaches the same level of stress which makes the scenes afterward easier to flip through.

I did not like the Pekka Rollins ending in the church.

Kaz hasn't struck him or really confronted him through the whole length of two books. Now in all of this chaos, attention shifting every few seconds and nerves on edge for other reasons he decides to finally do what we waited for.

I understand that there probably wasn't enough space or time to write an extra plot point for this so I will just watch the show whenever I'm craving Kaz's vengeance.

One of my favourite chapters in the whole series got to be chapter 14 of CK.

It is also the only chapter that plays outside of Ketterdam and it almost feels like a bittersweet nightmare. Or a dream? It's so hard to decide how to feel, being torn from "Oh his mother lives!" To "Holy fuck his mother lives..." To "I can't do this- she painted him..." While everything plays in this unfamiliar setting dipped in the afternoon sun. Wylan is not just retelling what happened but we are actually there while it happens. It helps to stir my pot of emotions.

This song was running on repeat when I was reading this:

The time has come. Whilst we're at iconic scenes I have the physical urge to throw in the "Who the hell is Jordie" - Jesper Fahey.

My friends are probably already wailing over the fact that I'm once again explaining my issues when it comes to Kaz Brekker. I'm sorry, my dears. I love you all very much.

Book one he redeemed himself and even in book two at the end I felt lighter, the anger issues not going complete berserk when thinking about him.

A huge part why I didn't like him is caused by his anger towards Jesper. I established that in my first review as well but in CK this burning rage of and therefore for him just flames higher.

I understand why and how and what and when and blablabla but I still don't think it's acceptable. And I think the fandom handles it wrongly. Maybe this is because there are a lot of young readers in the community. (Even though the SOC duology has very morally grey characters and it shouldn't be young adult-- that's a discussion for another day.)

I know I'm chronically online for this but children listen: Kaz can't just stomp his bestie in the ground because he has PTSD. Why do you think Inej left before the same fate could happen to her? It's so painfully obvious it makes me convulse. Jesper already has doubts about himself and his right to be loved, have friends, be trusted. And that just worsens in the presence of Kaz and his jabs here and there. You also have to keep in mind that Kaz actively fed into Jespers addiction which were the cause of him accidentally betraying the crows. Additionally: who gave Kaz the right to speak for Inej? She is the one who got hurt and she's the one who will settle it. Which she did. (Brilliant scene by the way.)

The way Kaz reacts just strengthened my belief from the first book: he never trusted Jesper and he just lets out his pain at someone who was foolish enough to stay with him.

Now I know I've been antagonizing him a lot but it's my opinion on the fandoms matter not on the overall of his character because I feel like in the books it's perfectly clear that this is a fight where he's in the wrong.

Shockingly, my very one-sided view on Kaz changed. Otherwise I would've not enjoyed the book as much as I did. I hold the moments when Nina and Wylan say that he accepted them very close. Or him giving Wylan the heritage he deserves even if it was just to taunt Van Eck into madness I have the (most likely false) inkling it's not only that. Probably just another scheme to use Wylan later on but we don't think about that. When he tells Inej that Jesper is missed I felt like the Pekka Rollins incident was finally wearing off just as the memories.

And of course there's Inej whom he gifts her her ship and brought her back to her parents. We all love to see her happy and even if he earned the simp-stamp during this, it is still a scene that makes me tear up.

Talking about more scenes I like: the fights between Inej and Dunyasha are awesome. I find Dunyasha super interesting as well as the way Inej views her.

Her character design is fun and her belief system so twisted and messed up. I don't know it just was a "fresh wind" of insanity outside of the common crowd we already knew.

And Inej grew through her. Inej's character growth has always been kind of shoved in your face with very obvious metaphors but I learned to absolutely love and appreciate it this way. It leaves you with very impressive scenes that are bound to her with connections and further consequences.

Speaking of character growth: Matthias. We finally got his final big bear form. It's funny how he transformed from being this irrational crazy murder husband of Nina to kind of the innocent-not-so-innocent-simping-lovely-idiotic-diplomat of the group.

We all know how his story takes it's end though. And once again I find myself wondering if the pace is just too fast or the pov change destroys this particular moment. But I couldn't really engage in it. I found it sad but not in a way that really stuck and made me mourn his character which I find a bit unfair. Because he deserves to be mourned. No pun intended.

I'm surprised that I don't think it was unnecessary or something that was just done to hurt the reader. Or Nina for that matter. Maybe it is but that's not how it seems to me.

I think he deserves better, obviously. I think he could've survived and the book would've been just as good, maybe even better.

But he dies and I feel like it just shows how luck does run out sometimes. And all it took was a younger version of Matthias plagued by hatred and a clouded mind shakingly holding onto a pistol. Matthias did change, wanted to help and free his family from the ice but cruelly he wasn't given the chance.

Scenes I'm unsure about would also be the pure comedy gold of Jesper mistaking Kuwei for Wylan.

When I first read that I was so on edge. Why wasn't "Wylan" saying anything? Why's he randomely sitting there not playing? Why on god's green earth is he grinning? (Also side note: how the hell could Jesper say their first kiss would be a great thing as a distraction?)

Anyways oblivious Jesper kisses Kuwei and in turn this dude is just glowing with pride.

It is memeworthy and I'm happy it's not a messed up love triangle or any of those sorts.

Still the voices bro, the freaking voices! "How could this be used for a meme moment?"

I can live with it though. It's okay. The show gave us what we didn't have and I'm ready for further angst if the spin off does come out.

Conclusively I'd like to say that the books grew on me through the fandom, the show and maturing as a person. It's quite the funny journey. I'm going to reread my first two reviews now and see what bs my younger self created. Chances are high that I just repeated myself but that's okay. I'll just ride with that. Have a good day.

[eisforeidolon]

I think it is an honest attempt to rather go to a con to face the actor you hate and question him directly rather than sitting in own room and bitching day and night. If any anti really goes to the NYCC and asks Jensen 'uncomfortable' questions that can give a little light on the shady prequel, I would appreciate them. But I don't think anyone is that involved with their fandom-hate really that they would spend a hell lot of money just to ask something to a person they don't like. Except those certain rabid Hellers of course who have lost the sense of line between reality and tv.

I think fans should be respectful to the actors, even ones I don't like. However I don't see asking hard questions is being inherently disrespectful, a lot depends on attitude and phrasing. That said? I also think any fan who has convinced themselves they have the magic question to back Jensen into a corner over this is just as deluded as the hellers trying it for years over their ship. If Jensen & Co. are planning to give more concrete details at that con, they will. If they aren't? He'll tap dance around it just like he did to the fan at JibCon who asked for specifics of what'd be in the first season.

Still no idea why they're going with this particular strategy of trying to keep everything a big secret, especially when fans are so up in arms about it. Maybe it's intentional, to keep people riled up and talking about it in a whole 'no bad publicity' way? Maybe it really is just as simple as reading the room wrong. While I've personally just kind of thrown my hands up and stopped paying attention for the most part, I get the frustration and incredulity at this as a concept and as a strategy. But if this is what they've chosen to go with, rando fan #219 can make up all the hard hitting questions they want or misrepresent everything that was said ... and it's going to make all the difference of a fart in the wind.

Going to a con, where in this case it's not a panel for SPN but for TW, as a fan who hates that and Jensen? Is weirder than just bitching online and I don't see anything particularly honest about it. Even if someone is on SM day and night, I presume they're still doing other shit in between posts. I'm on and off here all the time - but I'm also chatting to friends, working, writing, doing other hobbies, etc. Someone going to NYCC just to seethe about how much they hate Jensen and TW is specifically dedicating that time a lot more wholly to that one thing - in addition to the money they're blowing. And yeah, the money is the part that really drives it over the cliff into WTF Even? territory. Again, like the hellers who bid insane amounts on Jensen's first M&G after the show ended because they'd convinced themselves he totes hated the finale and was being ~*sexily silent*~ about it (despite what he was literally saying in interviews) and was going to reveal all to them!? You can make up all the fantasies in your head you want. You can paint as absurd of a narrative of what actually happened and what it ~*really means*~ as vividly as you like. But at the end of the day, you're just stewing in your hatred for hours to ultimately be easily refuted by other more honest attendees who don't have an agenda easily visible from space. So honestly if they were straight up lying about going it would be less weird, but I think it's an artificial line to assume only hellers are that desperate to try and "prove" some kind of point - there's more than enough crazy in this fandom to go around even if certain corners do have a higher concentration of it.

[angelic-guardienne]

hii !!! i'd love to hear more about your ffxv oc story ! it sounds really cool ^^

THANK YOU!!! okay so let's start from the very beginning bc.... there's a LOT

so when i started writing this fic in 2017 it had a COMPLETELY different concept. those close to me know it as rwr, which is Real World Reader. it was meant to be a "someone from our world gets sucked into the ffxv verse. shenanigans" longfic. i wrote two chapters and there was a loooooooot of spitballing ideas with my friends and shoving almost everything into a doc so it wasn't lost (though. a LOT got lost anyway). I had a sequel planned before I even finished the first one. I daydreamed HARD about this fic. I was gonna call it Distant Worlds, like after the Final Fantasy symphony orchestra concerts. but in the end I couldn't come up with a cohesive timeline for the plot, so it stayed in development hell.

next, we have the fic that this idea merged with: my white mage au. again, started development in 2017, I wrote a prologue and started the first chapter, but I got way too caught up in the lore planning instead of planning the actual fic, so it never went anywhere. The basic premise was that my OC (named Eileen Lovarion bc last names suck) was a white mage that was meant to travel with the bros on their journey. I named it Soulseer, Starseeker. I MADE A WHOLE NEW MAGIC SYSTEM FOR THIS FIC 😭 (which i'll only get into if you're interested, otherwise i'd talk your ear off bc it's... a lot) but basically Eileen L. could see souls and create soul bonds n shit and it was gonna be a whole thing. but again, i got caught up in creating the lore and not the plot of the fic sooooooo development hell.

so about 2022/2023, i was reading back over the documents for rwr, and I was like wow, this was actually really good, I should start working on this again, but ✨️different✨️ so I took my OC from white mage AU, changed her last name (Eileen Harrison, which, i still lowkey hate that last name) and somewhat merged the two ideas and put a new spin on them. or like, the old ideas were sprinkles on an entirely new sundae? anyway.

Now, I looooove the other ff games, I have all the numbered ones except 11, 13 (which i own, but on my bricked ps3), 14, and 16. I have 12 on like 3 different platforms 💔 so i was playing ffiv and i was like... hm.... what if.... so then I did a deep dive into the ff wiki and read up on white magic/white mages and the magic/class systems in the earlier ff games. Came across the devout class from ffiii. fell in love.

Soooo Eileen Harrison is a devout from the ffiii world. Devouts are basically expert white mages. They know more advanced magic than regular white mages and their magic power/mp is higher. The only ones that are above them in terms of magic prowess are sages, who are masters of both black and white magic. White magic is primarily healing spells/status effect spells. the only really offensive power of white magic (in the ffiii game) is in the wind spells, negative status effects, and holy.

In some translations, devouts are also known as seers or shaman (shamen?). So i decided that devouts could rarely have prophetic dreams. so Eileen has one, and she goes to her village elders and they tell her she has to go on a pilgrimage to all the crystals around their world to receive more clarity on the dream. her village is home to the earth crystal (because the devout class is earned from the earth crystal in ffiii) and so she prays there first, and bc she, along with all the other devouts in her village, has a strong spiritual connection with the crystal, she's got a connection with Titan.

The idea is that here, Titan is more of a protector/defender than an aggressor. So you'd pray to Titan for protection on your journey, things like that.

Eileen leaves for her pilgrimage, off to (in no particular order since i can't remember what order i decided on) the water crystal, the fire crystal, and the wind crystal. on her way to the water crystal, she gets caught up in this CRAAAAAZY storm (which, unbeknownst to her at the time, is sort of like Leviathan's trial to see if you're worthy of approaching the water crystal.)

Well Eileen falls off the side of the moutain she's climbing to get to the water crystal, and she's falling to her death. and as she's falling, she's lamenting that she never got to figure out the prophetic dream and help her people/be of more use to the world. So basically, her dying wish is to help the world.

Due to their spiritual connection, Titan hears her crying out, and decides to save her for the future she was meant to save. But bc she's in Leviathan's domain, his powers aren't strong enough to like.... truly save her as she is from death (still working out the details on that). So Eileen goes into crystal stasis, and in the meantime, loses all her memories and a good chunk of her magical abilities.

Cut to ffxv, right after noctis and co are standing on that hill overlooking insomnia, watching the empire take over the city. Noctis feels a pull over to cartanica. The bros don't think much about it at first bc they were heading there anyway, but noctis insists it's something different; a magical er, "signature" as strong as this one could potentially be the ring or luna (or an astral, but i can't remember if he knows about them yet or not).

So him and the bros get to cartanica, see the empire doing that whole mining thing (to give them a reason to be there besides like, just being there for a cor/party fight). They get rid of all the goons and start looking around for what the empire was looking for, which turns out to be Eileen's crystal!! As soon as Noctis touches the crystal, his magic reacts with the magic of the crystal and lets Eileen out, 'cept she's unconscious. so they leave her with the hunters and go into cartanica as normal.

when they get back, they see eileen healing a wounded hunter, and then she asks to join their party. ignis and gladio have their reservations but noctis agrees pretty easily, like it's some kind of gut feeling or like. he knows that she's supposed to be with them.

thus starts their journey! i've already decided when eileen gets her memories back (she gets em back in 2 major parts), and she unlocks her magic alongside her memories. her main handicap is that her mp doesnt recharge over time like Noct's does, so she has to use ether/rest at a campsite to recover (just like in her home game) aaaand her comparatively low attack power.

I'm still deciding on like, what impact her presence is gonna have on the story, how she interacts with things like luna dying, ravus getting turned into a daemon, and noct dying, and how she interacts with the other bros, AND like. her character arc I guess? where will she grow besides getting her memories/magic back?

Sorry if I talked your ear off lmao, i've been thinking about this story a LOT but just haven't done a whole lot of actual writing bc again, it's been a long time since I played ffxv. I have it, and have full intentions to play it again, but my free time is practically nonexistent 🫠 so.

if you have any other questions, feel free to drop another ask!