#I'm sure there was some sort of incident that led to this

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

Need a little help there, Neighbor?

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hello. It's me again. I'm sure you've realized by now what this type of introduction to a post is leading into. I'm going to bring up another page in the bill book. This entry is going to be less about "proving" anything, but rather it's just something I'd like to discuss. (Also just a warning, this one ends up a bit long due to how many photos are included!)

As I have said before. I had many many thoughts, and I am liable to talk about them until they're all talked out. I want to focus on a single page again (Or I guess, a single double page).

Sorry for the kinda small image here, but don't worry. I'll point out the part I want to talk about.

What I find strange about these pages in particular, aside from the fact that it starts to become written like some sort of noir novel and that Bill has chosen to speak like a femme-fatale, is the new idea it suggests to us:

Bill at some point told Ford he was from another dimension.

I say "at some point" because Ford doesn't react to the idea like this is new information here. Why do I find that strange? Well, for one thing, there's never anything that would indicate Ford knew this pre-portal.

To start, we know that Bill introduces himself to Ford as "a Muse"

Notice the way Ford speaks about him. "From a higher plane, divine, otherworldly". He makes some guesses on the second page (spirit, alien, dream, etc), but nothing to indicate they've discussed the whole other-dimension thing yet. Of course, this is still early, so let's skip further ahead.

Here's where we start talking about other dimensions. Or should I say "dimension"?

Bill has told his "weirdness dimension" lie to Ford, but there's no implication that he himself is from this dimension. And not to mention, this dimension hasn't been destroyed, so naturally it cannot be the one he talks about in the Bill Book pages.

(Later Edit: There used to be another line of reasoning here, I have since removed it.)

Regardless, Bill is still being referred to as a divine thing, unknowable and even possibly not real. Safe to say he isn't inter-dimensional yet, so let's continue.

(this section has been edited from its original wording)

Here Fiddleford and his idiosyncrasies enter the fray, and Ford debates telling him. Fiddleford is aware they're building a portal to another dimension, Ford could just explain that Bill himself is from one. But Ford's attitude toward the situation veers towards the less scientific. Ford still considers Bill to be something divine, and is worried Fiddleford would think black magic is happening. Worrying that Fiddleford would think he's gone mad is one thing, but the emphasis on black magic and fiddlefords superstitions strike me as odd.

If Ford had something to suggest Bill's essence was more scientific in nature, I.E. him being from another dimension himself, I think he would've put that into consideration in that when deciding whether to reveal him to Fiddleford, or at the very least would've given up the emphasis on his superstitious nature

Continuing on.

We're closing in on the portal test now. Ford refers to him here as a "non corporeal entity". He is non corporeal so long as he exists only in the astral plane... but is that what Ford is talking about? Or does he believe Bill has only ever existed in the mindscape? Does he know yet? I don't think this page actually includes much of an answer, I just figured it should be included.

The next-next page does have Ford cheekily refer to him as "imaginary" though...

Fairly soon after this, the portal incident and the betrayal happens. Could it be possible that somewhere within these pages, Bill spilt his home dimension backstory? I'm still inclined to think not.

These questions have no definitive answer, but I am led to wonder:

1) Bill's whole dynamic with Ford is that of a "Muse" inspiring intelligent minds throughout history, wouldn't the reveal of him being from another dimension call this dynamic into question?

2) If Bill is something from another dimension, wouldn't asking Ford to build a portal to a dimension totally-not-at-all-related-to-him become suspicious? Would Ford not question his motives at that point?

(Later Edit: There used to be another line of reasoning here, I have since removed it. Yeah, again.)

(A second later edit: As has been pointed out in the reblogs, some of what I have discussed thus far fails to take into account the mental state Ford could be in due to Bill's abuse/manipulations. Expecting perfect logic and reasoning from him like the two questions above are asking for may not be fair. I am leaving them in this post so the aforementioned reblogs continue to make sense, but again, how his abuse factors into his logic and decision-making should be taken into consideration.)

.

.

I have just a few more post-portal pages to show to continue my long winded discussion with as well.

The pages about Exwhylia read a bit weirdly, admittedly. The first page Ford states he thought this was Bill's birthplace, the second page he states he believes Bill came from somewhere similar but was mysteriously destroyed.

If Ford thought this 2-D dimension had been reduced to an atom before he got there, how could he have planned to go? And I should hardly call being destroyed by a monster a "mysterious" method of destroying. Whatever the explanation for the way these are written is, I don't think they read like Bill has ever spoken to Ford about his home dimension.

Additionally, he mentions his "quest to defeat Bill" is what led him here, which I feel implies he learned of this place after being portaled.

I wish I had a good closer for this mini-essay, but the questions I asked above the Exwhylia section were originally supposed to be it. I don't believe Bill had told Ford about his dimension. That's the end of the sentence.

MAJOR ADDENDUM:

I can't believe I missed this (I can believe it) but.. In the book of Bill, Ford refers to Bill as "extradimensional" after their very first meeting!

Pinpointing the answer to my timeline question supposedly to this exact moment. In my opinion, if you combine this with everything I've mentioned above, no part of this idea from the book of bill makes any sense at all. You might remember at the beginning of this post, Ford guesses at what type of creature Bill is... two years after this last page here was supposed to have been written.

Additionally, if he had known there was an "extradimensional" creature in gravity falls at this point in time, I should hardly think it would've taken him two whole years after that to think of the idea that the Falls' weirdness may come from out of our dimension! (Not to mention in J3 he tells us the idea was told to him directly from Bill. Two years elapsed between these conversations? Knowing Ford, not likely. Again, even if Bill somehow did avoid telling him that whole time, I think Ford very well could've figured it out on his own by then.)

[annabel-lee-nevermore]

Hey All

I know I've been quiet aside from a few fic posts recently (especially since I've never been one to post my own thoughts to tumblr quite often) but I've noticed a growing issue and want to say something.

I love Nevermore, I truly do. It consumes my thoughts alongside everything else I do, I still consider things I do that are things Annabel would do "Annabelisms", hell I even still write fics (my wip gallery is a graveyard that I hope to conquer).

The following is a critique of the fandom at present, and though I know it will piss some people off, I hope those who are pissed off take the time to read this. Take this as your content warning before you whine at me, I will argue with you if complaining about it being in the tag is all you have to say.

But still, I've quieted down in the fandom, I no longer talk as often in the server, this blog lies dormant, and there's a reason. Between a few personal feelings about the Montrada developments and the events of the most recent free chapters and picking up more hobbies, I've kept my eye on the fandom, albeit from afar, and I've watched as it grows more and more hostile towards anyone who chooses to voice a negative opinion, especially through the anonymous confessions blog.

This is a Fandom. A [Tumblr] fandom. Surely you all have heard the stories of infighting growing worse and worse in fandoms until they rip themselves and the creation of their source material apart. Voltron Legendary Defender, for example, fell to infighting over a few ship opinions and led to a blackmail incident in an attempt to make things go their way, as well as who knows how many people being doxxed for having "bad opinions".

This is not limited to VLD, but I fear I'm starting to see the same sort of cracks form. People having critiques of the comic is a Healthy and Normal way for people to engage in media, especially media they love. Any sort of theorizing that it's meant to sow discourse and toxicity in the fandom is a product of an echo chamber coming to form, and a toxic one at that, where everyone has to share the same, positive, opinions or face ostracisation from the fandom they claim to be a fan of. This is only going to lead to the fandom cannibalizing itself. Especially with the size of the Nevermore fandom, if we drive out everyone who loves the comic and has critiques and soon the healthy fun ecosystem of people drawing fanart and writing fic out of love will wither away.

And alongside that, though interaction with the creator of a fandom can be a fun novelty, the ways that the nevermore fandom has a wealth of "word of god" information that is never present in the comic, and acts like everyone should know it is fully ridiculous. Not everyone who reads the comic is in the discord. Not everyone in the discord has backread every single factoid about the comic that Red and Flynn have shared. In my opinion parts of this have led to a parasocial relationship with the creators, and alongside that, led to a fierce need to defend them whenever any critical opinion shows up, immediately writing it off as hate and rushing to call them out, despite critique being a normal way to interpret media.

I love this Fandom, but from my (albeit less involved than I used to be) view, its tearing itself apart and I really hate to see it go like this, especially since we're not even a full season deep.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(For your lovely rollo event.)

Rollo, how do you feel about children? Either just in general or perhaps.. if you would ever want to be a father in the future?

Like Fire, Hellfire.

“Children?”

He handled the word as though it were a skunk—innocent and harmless for now but primed to spray at the first hint of danger. A muscle in his face ticked. It was though he wished to shift into a different emotion but hadn't yet decided which one.

Handkerchief out, Rollo sucked in a breath through his teeth. The usual disgust or disapproval was not present in full force. Today, it was tempered by hesitance as he tip-toed around the subject.

"They have the capacity to be rambunctious. Like fire, difficult to tame. I’m not certain I can match their energy," he said vaguely. “The children in the City of Flowers are free-spirited, and that tends to result in acts of mischief. Whether their pranks and games disturb public peace depends on the time and place. I'm not fond of the instances when they do."

A slight grimace crossed his features. "There was once an incident when a boy blew hard into a magically charmed handkerchief, and the noise it produced startled the baker at the cafe I was frequenting. He had just pulled out a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. The croissants ended up all over the floor... What a waste of perfectly good food. The baker, too, was quite upset, as you can imagine."

"What happened to the boy?"

"Ah, him. He attempted to abscond from the scene of the crime. In his rush to escape, he paid no attention to his surroundings and collided with me." Rollo waved a hand. "The baker's rage was upon him in an instant. The boy was shaking like a leaf in the wind—he grasped onto my robes to keep himself upright.”

Rollo drew out a sigh that ended in a small smile. “I managed to smooth things over with the baker, though I also spoke with the boy and had him apologize. One must atone for one’s crimes—that lesson was surely instilled in him that day.”

"Aw, it was nice of you to step in and speak on behalf of the little guy." You found yourself smiling as well. Even though Rollo-san always has this stern air about him��� "You really have a soft spot for kids, huh?”

His frown quickly returned. "No, I wouldn't say that. I was merely holding the boy accountable for his actions. Children can so easily be led astray without proper instruction and moral guidance. Who is to say he wouldn’t be a repeat offender if he was let off the hook?”

"Someone's in denial," you said in a teasing singsong. “It’s okay to confess that you’re good at taking care of kids, you know.”

“… I am not,” he insisted. “I am most content observing the children go about their simple days. I do not wish to take a larger part in their lives beyond that.”

A terrifying thought nipped at him from the dark crevices of his mind.

I don’t have a right to.

If his heart were a house, then a window had been thrown open, letting the outside in. A hole opened in the dark, and incriminating light rushed to fill it.

A flower of pain blossomed in his chest, its thorns driving deep into his flesh. The blood that rose to the surface was both hot and cold. Burning scorn, icy remorse.

A deadly duo.

Spiraling.

I wasn't able to protect the one that mattered most of all. My magic came too late. I'm in no position to be a big brother, let alone a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a guardian of any sort…!

I’m not worthy.

Rollo gritted his teeth. His soul ablaze, his mind jumbled with emotions running high. He pushed back with teeth and nails.

It’s not my fault. I’m not to blame!! The one who cast this flame is…!

“Rollo-san?”

You were staring at him, concern seeping into your eyes. Curiosity, too, had bloomed there. It was the same sort of expression one makes at a a stray on the side of the road. Sorry for it, but uncertain about drawing near to check its condition.

He gasped—realizing he had been making a most frightening face. Rearranging his features back into some semblance of calm, he cleared his throat.

“… Suffice to say, it is impossible in this current state of affairs for any child to grow up safe and free of sin. Around every bend and corner, there is temptation of magic calling out to them. How cruel!” he lamented pityingly. “The poor things, like lambs led to the slaughter.”

You shuddered at the gruesome image—human children like lambs.

Poor things, echoed your head. Poor Rollo, echoed your heart, thinking such things.

“Until I can bring about that magic-free world into fruition, I cannot commit my efforts toward any other endeavors,” he concluded. “A world without all the pain and suffering of this one… I intend to see my goal through to the very end. That is my utmost priority.”

A fairer world for all.

For the children.

For him.

[the-atlas-sister]

𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕐𝕠𝕦 (Aged Up!Neteyam x Protective!Fem!Aged Up!Reader)

Warnings!: minor obsessive behavior, protective reader, vulgar language, fluff and suggestive content towards the end

You never thought you would give your entire life to protect someone. Give everything you have and do whatever possible just to make sure they're happy and safe.

But everything changed when you met Neteyam.

***

You shook slightly under the gaze of the four humans in their large mech suits. They stood over you, each holding a large gun they pointed at you. Your back was pressed against the forest floor, frozen as they yelled odd things you didn't understand. None of them spoke your native tongue.

You let out a meek hiss as one of the soldiers took a step towards you.

They all let out a noise you recognized as laughter at your attempt of intimidation.

"What should we do with her?" one solider said, though you didn't understand.

"I say we just kill her," another answered.

You notice something blue flash between the branches above you as the soldiers talk among themselves.

"No, we need to take her back. She might have some information of Jake Sully."

"I don't know anything, stay away from me!" you yelled in your native tongue, feeling your tail swish behind you.

"Shut up, na'vi!" one yelled, his mech's metallic hand grabbing your thick braids. You let out a wail of pain as he picked you up by your hair, lifting you high above the ground. You let out a sound that was a mix of a wail and a hiss as he stared at you through the glass veil of the machine.

He laughed once more but the sound was cut short by a large Na'vi arrow hitting his chest.

"There's another one!" the soldiers yelled as their dead comrade dropped you.

"Where is it?" one soldier yelled, only to be shot down as well.

You scrambled across the forest floor as the giant machines fell left and right, the humans within them killed effortlessly by some your mysterious hero in the trees.

"Come with me," a voice said in Na'vi. You looked up to see none other than the son of famed Toruk Mokto. He stood high on a root, his hand outstretched for you to grab, his bow slung over his shoulder. Your breathing became heavy as your eyes scanned him, still frozen in fear and shock.

"I will not hurt you," he said, holding his hand a bit farther. "Please just come with me."

The sound of gunshots behind you was what finally broke you from your trance. You ducked down and took the chief's son's hand, allowing him to pull you through the forest. The two of you ducked and swiftly avoided the large vegetation of Pandora before the boy pulled you under a large bush.

"Stay down," he said, holding you close against him as you stayed close to the ground. You felt your heart beat in your chest, adrenaline running through your veins. "Okay, we're all clear."

You watched as the boy looked up and over the bush before finally standing to his full height. You stared up at him, sure you had stars in your eyes.

"What's your name?" you asked quietly, still staring at the boy before you.

"I'm Neteyam," he answered, giving you a comforting smile. "What is your name?" He offered you his hand once more.

"Y/n."

***

Ever since that day, you had swore to yourself and Neteyam that you would do everything in your power to protect him. You trained everyday and even followed the Sully family to keep him safe.

And you did. Anytime Neteyam was in any sort of danger, you were there to defend him. And anytime he needed a shoulder to cry on, there you were.

Which now led to this moment.

***

"Who the hell did this to you?" you seethed, rushing into the Sully's small hut to see a bruised and battered Neteyam.

"I'm okay, sevin," Neteyam stated, giving you a small smile. "You should see the other guys."

"Neteyam," you frowned, kneeling in front of the boy. You swiped your thumb across his bleeding lip. "What happened?"

"Just an incident with some people," Neteyam said, smiling at your touch. He grabbed your hand and kissed it gently. "It doesn't matter, okay? Just leave it alone, sevin."

You frowned once more, your tail swishing anxiously behind you. "Alright," you sighed, pressing your forehead against his own. You let out a small sigh, pressing yourself closer to the boy you loved. "The others looked worse?" you asked, feeling Neteyam's ragged breath against your lips. He nodded slightly and you could practically feel his chest swell with pride. You smiled slightly before pressing your lips against his. "My mighty warrior," you whispered, pulling away.

"The mightiest warrior," Neteyam echoed, his hands grabbing at your hips. "Kiss me again, sevin." You chuckled before obliging his request. Neteyam let out a low hum as you pressed your lips against his. Your lips molded against one another, the faint taste of blood lingering in your mouth.

You felt your cheeks flush as Neteyam's arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

"May I please know who it was at least darling?" you gasped, pulling away slightly, both of your chests heaving. Neteyam frowned at you, nudging his head against your chin. "Please, my mighty warrior," you whispered, running your hands against his chest.

"An'oung," Neteyam said quietly, pressing kisses against your throat and chest. "Now please keep going my Y/n."

"An'oung," you said to yourself. "Anything for you, ma Neteyam."

Sevin = Pretty

[idsfantasy]

Guys I have a mini theory.

Just stay with me over here all right?

You know that Candy Cadet story in Help Wanted 2? Well what if- what if-

What if that story was talking about Cassie's dad all along? I think it's pretty evident at this point that Cassie's dad was the Bonnie bully in 1983. And we definitely know that Cassie's dad had some involvement with Fall Fest thx to the HW2 minigames. In 1983 he would have been 13-15, and as we know the 'Secret of The Mimic' takes place in 1979. Bonnie bully would have been a kid at that time. It's not impossible that he was there. We know that Fall Fest had some sort of accident that led into a giant fire. And possibly now with the teaser out, clearly the Mimic probably had some involvement in this.

What if in his childhood, Bonnie bully was scarred from the Fall Fest/Mimic incident, that when he grew up he returned to face down the Mimic? And he did so so that no other child would get harmed yet he failed because in either ending, he gets trapped and can't do anything to save his daughter. Y'know?

Look I'm just very hyped about the game and this is kind of a crack theory but imagine if in this new Carnival/Fall Fest game the protagonist is the Bonnie bully? That would be cool-

I still prefer the theory about Cassie's dad being Help Wanted Jeremy being scarred by Glitchtrap and coming back for revenge in Help Wanted 2 (since imo it doesn't seem like he had anything to do with the Mimic, primarily focusing on Glitchtrap stuff who I am 99% sure is William), but it's an interesting idea!

[boatcats]

The Hospitality Industry

The package arrived on a rainy day as Ed and Stede were hanging the curtains. Jose, a kid from the town a mile down the road, dropped it off and Ed rewarded him with some of the silver coins they'd brought with them from the Revenge. It paid to be neighborly - and it was still such a delightful novelty to have consistent, land-based neighbors.

"I lost a toof!" Jose told Ed happily, smiling wide so Ed could see the gap.

"I see that. What happened?"

Jose shrugged. "They just fall out sometimes. 'Cause I'm a kid."

It had been a while since Ed had been around kids. Long enough that he'd half forgotten about baby teeth. Of course he knew that was a thing but still - wild.

"I'm gonna catch the toof fairy!" Jose said as Stede came to stand next to Ed at the door.

"Well, if you catch it be sure to bring it by to show us!" Stede said.

Jose cackled as he walked back down the steps. "I will."

"Great," Ed sighed, curling an arm around Stede’s back and resting his head on his chest. "Now he's gonna bring some animal by again." The snapping turtle incident was somewhat fresh in his mind.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Stede soothed. "What did you get, darling?"

"Not sure. Some sort of package. No return address."

"Well." Stede led Ed over to the couch and stretched out with his feet in Ed's lap. "Let's open it."

The package contained a note. Underneath the note was an empty glass jar.

"Welcome to the hospitality industry," the note said. "Thought I'd send you this in case you wanted to start your own collection. Love, Jackie."

[varpusvaras]

Thiyo- wincing when they speak for the first time after a while and their voice is so hoarse/rough

She spotted him by accident.

Riyo didn't usually take the route downstairs to her office, but there had been some sort of incident on the upper floor hallway and the whole place had been swarming with cleaning droids, so she had thought it better to just take the longer way around.

Perhaps Thire had not counted her to be there either, because even with the helmet on, he seemed just as surprised to see Riyo as Riyo was to see him.

They both stopped and just looked at each other for a moment.

Then Riyo smiled sweetly.

"Oh, good afternoon everyone!" She greeted the Guards that were standing around Thire. "Do you mind if I borrow your Commander for a moment? I need to discuss something with him."

One of the Guards lifted their hand a bit.

"Uh, I don't think that's-" He started, but Thire quickly waved him down and stepped closer. Everyone else immediately backed away slightly to let him through, even if they seemed a bit hesitant.

That was odd, and it also told Riyo that something was going on.

She was pretty sure she knew what already.

Thire followed her without complain as Riyo led him to an emptier hallway.

"What are you doing here?" She asked the moment they stopped. "You're still sick!"

Thire had caught something a few days ago, and it had very strongly knocked him out and forced Commander Fox to take him out of the shift roster. Thire had been exhausted through it all, and had only had the energy to message Riyo every now and then to tell her how he was doing. He had been like that on the previous night as well, and had definitely not seemed like he was ready to get back to work the next day.

But here he was anyway. Riyo didn't want to believe that Commander Fox would make Thire to go to work, but she wasn't left with any other choice right now than to believe so.

There was a rasp coming from the vocoders of Thire's helmet.

She frowned.

"Yes?" She asked. Had he said something? She had not heard it correctly, if he had.

Thire seemed to think for a short moment, before he lifted his helmet off.

He looked awful. All too pale and barely awake, his eyes reddened and his hair flat against his forehead.

Riyo's heart constricted.

"Oh, Thire", she murmured, and lifted her hand to touch his face. It wasn't too warm, thankfully. "You need to go back and rest."

Thire opened his mouth, and breathed before he spoke.

"I can't", he rasped, and winced, and so did Riyo. She could practically feel the grating in her own throat. "Fox and Stone are both in the medbay, I need to-"

"Shh", Riyo cupped his jaw gently. "I understand. How are you feeling? Here, you can type it out."

It was a good thing that she had been on her way back to her office, so she still had all of her supplies with her. Thire took the datapad she was offering him, and slowly typed out tired. throat hurts. better than yesterday.

"I noticed the first two", Riyo said. "Not so sure about the third one."

Thire sighed softly, and continued typing.

I'm standing at the very least. couldn't do that yesterday.

Riyo pursed her lips.

"That barely makes it better", she said. "...come by my office later? I think I have something in there that could help with the throat, at least."

Her mother always sent her a care package every month, even if she had not yet needed the things even from the previous one. She had left the last one to her office, and with it had been traditional medicinal pastilles and tea, in case she ever needed a quick pick-up in the middle of her day.

Well, they would go to better use now.

Thire smiled at her despite the tiredness, quickly typing some more.

Thank you.

I love you.

Riyo couldn't help but smile as well.

"I love you too", she said. "I'll see you later."

[yukina-otome]

Chevalier: Pregnancy and Family Chapter 6

Tag: @jenaiea@clavis-hedonist@emelie-min@elenaclemence@quin-ny@yanderevi@aynfp@lucyw260@aquagirl1978@ikemen-prince-writers-posts@nervousharmonyangel@vynz0ne@zahrabasiri @rhodolitesrose@kuromitokito @aynfp @tele86 @flimflam707 @hestia0705

I'm sorry for the HUGE delay in the chapter releases! I hope you enjoy! Pls don't forget to like and reblog as this gives me inspiration and power to write more. Pls tell me if u want to be tagged for next chapters.

Chapter 1\ Chapter 2\ Chapter 3 \ Chapter 4 \ Chapter 5

Few weeks have passed since the poison incident and life seems to have gone back to it’s normal course in the royal palace of Rhodolite.

MC seems to have all but forgotten about the incident and was smiling happily again. Or so it seemed.

Chevalier has noticed that MC, who usually liked desserts so much, has stopped eating them all together. She also seemed to be a lot more careful about her food.

That night again, he watched her push the Rose cheesecake plate away from her with an almost sad look on her face.

It didn’t seem like she was disgusted, more like scared or traumatized.

Of course, such a terrible incident could not have passed without leaving some marks. Even he, who was always admired for his mental fortitude was heavily impacted by the incident and had every dish that was served on her table inspected over and over again.

But this could not go on, MC was barely eating anything and this was starting to worry him. He deduced that since the root of the issue was sweets, he had to make her eat them again.

But how? A royal decree? That was certainly not it.

Maybe he could ask the help of a certain brother of his who was particularly good with baking treats of all sorts.

And so, the next morning, Chevalier stormed into the Domestic faction office looking for Yves.

The 5th prince only stared at him with wide eyes as the king sat in front of him on the sofa.

His older brother had never ever sought him out before. Honestly sometimes Yves thought Chevalier did not know his name.

There was a long silence in the big messy office before Chevalier finally said:

“Showoff, I need your help.”

Help? Chevalier needed HELP? and not anyone’s help, HIS help? 

Licht, Leon and Jin all came and sat next to Yves, curious about whatever his majesty the king, a genius born every thousand years could ever need from the 5th prince.

Chevalier cleared his throat and started speaking

“Since the incident MC has not been eating very well, particularly desserts.”

“Oh no! she always seemed particularly fond of sweets, especially after her pregnancy.” Jin said, earning an impatient glare from Chevalier.

The king cleared his throat again, clearly disliking being interrupted before starting to speak once more: “It seems the poison incident heavily affected her. Showoff, you are a good baker and MC loves your sweet. Bake something for her.”

“I see! Poor MC! Very well! We shall have a cozy tea party! I’m sure MC would enjoy it! How about tomorrow afternoon, your majesty?” Yves said feeling bad for MC but happy that there was something he could do for his brother and beloved sister in law; Not that he’d ever admit it.

And so the men agreed and the next afternoon, Chevalier escorted MC to the rose garden.

“Where are we going, Chevalier? Are we going for a walk?”

Chevalier just squeezed her hand before leading her to a beautifully decorated dessert table full of all kinds of delicious treats. The princes, Sariel, Cecilia and Rio were all sitting already and only two chairs were empty. 

As Chevalier led MC to her chair, the young queen was looking around, bewildered by all the diverse desert that were laid on the table.

As soon as MC was seated, Chevalier turned around on his heels and was walking away from the cozy garden party.

But before he could get any further he heard his wife's voice calling for him, when he turned around she patted the chair next to her, indicating for him to come sit.

“My presence would only sour the mood, simpleton. Enjoy your tea party. You can tell me all about it later.” He smiled at her.

“No way!” Clavis stood up and grabbed Chevalier by the arm.

 “This tea party is to celebrate MC’s pregnancy and it would not feel complete without the baby’s father!” said Yves.

Jin grabbed Chevalier by the shoulder and dragged him toward his seat, next to MC who was smiling at the warm scene in front of her.

“We can assure you no one here is scared of you, your majesty” Sariel added.

Chevalier sighed “Ridiculous” before sitting next to his wife.

Everyone sat and Cecilia got up to serve everyone tea(herbal because MC was pregnant). Conversation was flowing smoothly but everyone’s attention was on MC who had not touched a single dish. 

Suddenly silence fell as Yves stood up  and served MC a piece of her favorite cake.

She stared at it for a while before saying “I’m sorry Yves, I’m not very hungry.”

“MC, me and Licht got out together this morning to get the ingredients, we checked everything many times again, and nothing left our eyes for even a second. Everything here, including the tea was made by my own hand and no one but us touched anything. I can assure you this is not poisoned.”  Yves explained hoping this could appease her fears.

“It would make us very happy if you had a taste” Jin added. 

“Yeah! Just have a bite and if ya don’t like it, you can stop!” Luke said.

After a few seconds, MC picked her fork and took a bite of the cake.  After chewing for a bit, she finally started crying. 

“I’m sorry! I know I’m being overly dramatic! I was just so scared and I-” MC was practically sobbing.

“Your majesty, do not blame yourself for your feelings. Your fears and worries are valid and you should not demean them or feel sorry for them.” Cecilia grabbed MC’s hand.

MC finally let go and after a good while of crying, she was back to smiling and eating. The party continued in a warm atmosphere and Chevalier sat there wondering what the old him would think if he saw himself sitting with all his brothers drinking tea and laughing. Of course, Chevalier did not really participate in the conversation but he was actively listening.

He remembered MC telling him that she was going to teach him about all different types of love. Was this one of them? Fraternal love? Familial love?

He did not know, but he felt his face soften and he felt oddly at peace.

The party lasted for a couple of hours, and MC returned to her room feeling light and relaxed. Of course, her fear would not be solved in a single meal but this was a step toward recovery and it was good enough.

Before leaving, Chevalier turned toward his younger brother and said “This party was a good idea, good job, Yves.” Before leaving in a flutter of his cape.

All the prince stood there, shocked by the fact that Chevalier had finally called one of them, aside from Clavis, by his name.

It wasn’t long before the brothers started competing to have there Older\Younger brother call them by their names. 

But that, is a story for another time.

[kyntypes]

Okay, so wtf happened to me in 2020-mid 2022?

I want to sort of look back on that time when I thought I had alters, and was a system some years ago. This is going to be long, so bear with me here. I don't understand what happened, and I'm just curious to know what the actual hell this was??? Was this just another form of psychosis, or maybe severe DR/PR? Was it a result of my PTSD being so bad that I split personality states in order to cope, and it wasn't truly DID/OSDD, or anything of the sort???

So, after a traumatic experience sometime in 2020, around the time of lockdown, I had a lot of issues right afterward. I didn't have much support, and I could basically feel like everyone around me didn't take what I had been through seriously because they didn't view it as 'bad enough'.

I had a lot of mood swings, and I was very volatile. I mean, I also was a 15-16 year old with big feelings and a lot of angst, especially after what happened to me. This led me to feel so out-of-touch with everything. I already had a history of psychosis and other mental health issues, such as anxiety and depression, and possibly also autism? I'm unsure if I'm autistic, despite being diagnosed as a Level 1 autistic, but I was definitely struggling with depression and anxiety when I first started high school. I say this because I feel like it may be relevant to my story.

So, with my history in mind, I also "heard voices". I don't think I did outside my head, but more of *inside my head. They were there, and uncontrolled, just inside my head. Like, thoughts. But I didn't recognize them as my own, and they were vastly different from me. Some had "roles". Like one was an obvious persecutor, and his only job was to make every other voice that existed in my head miserable. He made me miserable, and he did the same with others. He'd isolate himself, and he never, ever was respectful of me. I can't remember if he introduced himself as Richard, or if I just named him that, but I remember thinking he was the devil, and that I was going to never be able to escape him. I got so afraid whenever the name Richard was brought up. Some other notable voices I heard were kind, they were pleasant and sometimes were like other familial figures for me. There was another voice that was pleasant, and she was almost mother-like to me. She'd comfort me in times when I needed it. Some of the voices were children as well.

These voices eventually went away when I got better with my depression. So, fast-forward to around Jan-Feb of 2020. I had just been through a pretty hard-to-process event. Nobody else seemed to really care, but my brain went into overdrive for some terrible reason. I couldn't stop replaying everything, and I couldn't stop feeling everything. I felt sick daily, and I felt like I could hardly function. The voices eventually came back as I struggled to cope more and more. I at first thought I could've had BPD, but I denied it because I lacked many of the symptoms, so I discredited the possibility of that quickly. I then came across a Tumblr post talking about Dissociative Identity Disorder, and I read through. I resonated with some of it, but still, I wasn't sure, and I was extremely hesitant to diagnose myself with anything, considering how unpredictable and nearly unmanageable my emotions were.

But, not too long after the event, I began to hear voices again. These voices were random. I remember a woman in my head, her name being Celeste, told me about her always being there to help me. I remembered her from 2018(?)-2019 to be the same woman that I considered my second mother when I needed her most. She was like a protector of sorts, but instead it was for helping with my emotions and blocking them out for me. And others came in, like Kyle, and Walter. Walter and Kyle were both OCs I had made about 2 or 3 years before the incident. I grew strongly attached to them. I remember walking out of class, and suddenly feeling a shift in my perspective on life. I felt stronger, my gender changed, my idea of my appearance changed, and everything around me felt different. I looked at myself in the third person, but I was this whole new entity. I had become Kyle. It was a pleasant feeling, since I had been feeling stressed beforehand. It felt like a protective coping mechanism. I could see through my eyes, but they weren't my own, you know?

I also remember a lady coming in to meditate with us in class, it was in... history, I think? Very random, but my teacher had her come in after lunch so we could "reset", I guess. I told her about what I had been experiencing, and what I saw whilst meditating. I saw all of those "alters", and they all introduced themselves to me. Some were friendly, some not. They were all in a black void, just... there. She then told me to see a school counselor, and I was sorta becoming concerned at this point. I think she thought I was having delusions, or some sort of episode? Which, I guess I was?

By this time, I had so many alters that I think I was past 15. I could practically feel every single time a new one would be formed. I felt more dissociative, foggy, far away, and just... gone. And when they finally split, I felt better. Briefly. I'd still feel a very low dissociation daily, and I had spikes where it'd be so bad, that it felt like I'd "switch" with these "alters". Some were solely there to help as a voice inside my head, and others would actually "front" with me. Usually, when, let's say, Celeste would front, I'd feel no more emotional pain. I'd be in the background. And, when a "trauma holder" "fronted", suddenly a wave of memories and feelings during the incident would crash back. I'd usually cry during these moments. And when a protector would front, I'd feel fury at random. My anger would extend towards family members, specifically my dad for some reason, and anger towards anybody that even slightly wronged me.

The thing is, I remembered everything during these episodes, but my memory would just get very hazy, and I didn't recognize that as me whatsoever. Even now, I don't recognize some of those things as me. It feels like someone else did it. I believed I had "alters" for a while. They'd be distinct enough for me to believe that they just weren't me. They dated other alters, they had different memories, they had different emotions, different wants, needs, and outlooks on life. Some were curious about humans, others were spiteful, some were positive, innocent, and some were immature, etc. Very, very all over the place.

I remember, I think, partially "blacking out" and coming in and out of consciousness in school after being in a place that reminded me of my trauma. An "alter" fronted, and took me straight to my next class. I was somewhat conscious, but I didn't feel in control of my body. It was the exact same feeling I'd get when I'm half-asleep in the car, and my parents are carrying me to my bed. I "woke up" in my class, and asked, "Oh my god. How did I get here???" It took me a little bit to reorient myself. That was my only memory of potentially blacking out, otherwise, I was pretty good at remembering the last thing that was being done.

During very triggering moments, or at the very least, upsetting events, I'd "switch". There were so many, possibly 40+ at this point. Every stressor resulted in a "split". My parents were arguing? Split. School stress? Split. Sibling drama? Split. Relationship troubles? Split. Trauma memories? Split. It never seemed to end, until eventually, I got better.

I started getting better around mid-2022. I was able to feel a lot more grounded in life. I didn't feel "switchy" or dissociative as much anymore. The voices randomly stopped, I felt like me again, and I was able to not focus on the traumatic event as much anymore. I could talk about it without feeling like I was going to "pass out" within my own body, and someone else would take over.

So like... wtf? Everything felt so real. Genuinely. Like, I remember before bed, they'd be chatting it up about random crap. Sometimes, they'd "visit" me and ask how I was doing, or when I was upset, they'd know to comfort me or to "front" to help me cope.

But, I don't think I had the required trauma to even form a system... like, I don't understand where it came from. I don't know if I'm endogenic, either. I don't think I am, considering that usually these voices and stuff would come from times of a lot of stress and pressure. I also don't think I experienced repeated trauma as a kid. I don't think I did at all, actually. I feel like I had a normal, almost boring childhood.

So my main question is, was this just a weird delusion possibly induced by being traumatized, was it severe DR/PR, a result of PTSD being so bad that I would dissociate into 'different people', or was it a genuine form of systemhood I experienced? What's even weirder is the fact that I couldn't recognize that as me during those episodes. Like, genuinely. I look back, and slowly but surely, they started to feel like "me" again, but there were times where I remember devouring foods I wouldn't usually like because someone else was "fronting", or doing things I wouldn't usually do because someone else was "fronting".

[honeeslust]

Honee. HONEE ... I need some Nanamin tasting wedding cakes with his blushing bride to be. And the way she's eating each bite and moaning about how delicious they are has his all sorts o' flustered.

He's gotta shut her up somehow!!

I♡ysm, beauty!

Wait I'm nervous… 🙃 Okayyy Let's go. 🖤

Kento cant hide the blush currently staining his cheeks crimson….

You've tasted a few of the selections already but none of them garnered quite the reaction you were displaying now. Your manners are long forgotten as you moan about how good it is. The foodie in you is in heaven, sighing intently as the flavors marinate on your tongue. God! Your tongue. Spearing between your lips, licking them slow. Your eyes nearly crossing. your legs bouncing under the table just as you break into your signature involuntary yummy dance. The display brings a smile to his face and a sudden heat arises within him. Kento leans in close to swipe away the icing from the corner of your mouth. He licks the treat from the back of his thumb, his thoughts easily being led astray by the way you test his composure. Your dress keeps shifting a little further up your thighs every time you turn to him holding the spoon up to his lips. But it's not quite this little incident alone that gets him. It's more the way you try and hide the sudden hitch in your breath the moment his hand finds your knee under the table. Yes. That's it. He can turn the tables on you now. His princess is incapable keeping a straight face when hands as brawn and adept as his are, slyly start slipping further back so he can squeeze your thigh, effortlessly making your chubby leg feel slight under his palms. You just barely save face but don't think he doesnt notice the way you immediately divert your gaze when you lock eyes with him. You're all too familiar with that arduous stare and what comes after. A mix of apprehension and excitement forces your eyes wide as you sit straighter, clenching your thighs as though that would ever stop the sudden tightening in your core. His fingers delve further between your legs, coming so close to your heat that you twist in your seat reaching to catch his hand. You shoot off a look in the bakers direction who luckily is too preoccupied with plating the next round of desert combinations to notice. Your attempt to stop him is met with his fingertips digging into that sweet spot between your thighs to tickle you. Nanamin. You whisper accenting his name with extra letters as you try to situate your dress. Saying his name like that? You must want him to lay you out on this table and turn you into desert. His hand stays exactly where it is. Even as the baker returns none the wiser to your fiance’s naughty advances. This time, it's his turn to taste and the desert is definitely mouthwatering. But he’s willing to bet it'd taste even better if he could savor it directly from your mouth. One lingering look at those lips and he’s sure. He chews slow, eyes simmering. temples flaring, his jaw tensing… his hand still squeezing. His stare indicative of the racy thoughts occupying his mind.

Its more than just that cake he wants to devour.

And I don't mean the one on the plate 😝

@i-literally-cant-with-this, thanks for the ask. This was fun. I hope you enjoy it baby cakes 🥰

[burningupp]

Fated Friends | lmh

skz masterlist

pairing: lee minho x f!reader

warnings: female reader (i'm sorry, i promise to branch out one day), reader has a kid, heavily based off of gilmore girls bc it's my comfort show, slight health scare, not proofread lol

summary: minho isn't a very outwardly emotional guy, and honestly, he's come to be comfortable that way. weird how the kind of person he's sure to be the bane of his existence ends up breaking that habit, huh?

a/n: this is going to be at least two parts... yeah. i'm sorry. anyway i hope you enjoy this, whatever it is. also, sorry for any eventual grammar mistakes; i am not a native english speaker, so be gentle with me pls 🙏 also, i have had this as a wip for a while so using this as an excuse to complete the november clownracha prompt! @wooyussy @sunnytaes

The diner was busy. Minho hadn’t been running it for that long, just two years and some change, but it had still become somewhat of a staple in their little town. There were regulars who came in almost every day for at least one meal, and even though he might not show it outwardly, he really enjoyed making them food they seemed to appreciate.

There was a routine to it all, and it made him feel safe. The first six months he’d had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and it had been terrifying. Once he got past the insecurity, he’d felt good. He had managed to do what his father had done before him and run a successful business. Granted, his father had been running a hardware store before he died, not a diner, but it was close enough in his mind.

Once a year had passed, he started to feel bored instead of good. He loved his diner, and he loved running it, but he felt like there was no excitement in his life (unless you counted burning himself on oil from the deep fryer, of course - that had definitely led him to an eventful few weeks without the use of his left hand). Since he was running his own business, there was practically no rest for him. He had taken a total of two days off since starting the diner, but only because he actually did have to go to the hospital (courtesy of the fryer-incident) and the dentist.

The days that the diner was busy were good. There was no time to think about how he missed fishing and camping, how he hadn’t flirted with a woman since all this started, and much less been on a date with one. There had been a few customers, mostly tourists passing through, who had flirted with him before. He had always been generally awkward, stuttering his way through the interaction and then suffered through the teasing of the older women who lived in the small town and had known him since he was in diapers. It was great, obviously.

And then someone showed up and broke his routine entirely.

It was a busy day, the town selectman had been arranging a festival of some sort to “encourage tourism” which meant that Minho had a whole lot more customers than usual. He was running around taking and delivering orders, refilling coffees, and wiping down tables as fast as he could. He inwardly sighs when he hears the bell over the door ring again, because as much as he loves running a successful business, he’s busy enough as it is.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says over his shoulder as he’s wiping down a table.

“No but see, I don’t have a moment,” a woman’s voice says back, a sort of panicky twinge to it that makes him turn around to look at her.

She’s gorgeous. Her eyes are shining in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her hair is a tangled mess. Her clothing is a bit rumpled, and she’s not wearing any make-up, but suddenly the urge to flirt has returned to him from the dead. Then he hears the bell signaling food is ready, and he’s snapped out of his brief stupor.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, moving toward the two plates readily waiting for him on the counter, “neither do I. Wait or go somewhere else for coffee.”

Once he’s grabbed the food and turned around to give it to the customers at one of the tables in the corner, he is immediately stopped in his tracks as the woman is standing two feet in front of him with a gleam in her eyes that somehow both intrigues and terrifies him.

“No but you don’t understand,” she starts, and Minho heaves a sigh as he dodges around her to actually complete the order delivery, “my coffee machine at home broke, and my five-year-old is sick so I had to stay up all night, and the coffee at work has run out and so I am here, desperately begging you for like five cups of coffee before I collapse in a heap on the street and it’s all your fault.”

The woman follows him to the table and keeps incessantly nagging, and the only thing he can think is wait, she has a five-year-old? She doesn’t look older than 20 or so, if even that. At least that gave him a reason to stop looking at her beautiful eyes, stop his stupid heart from wanting him to talk and flirt with her, because he cannot handle a kid. He kind of hates kids, honestly - they’re always sticky, and never have intelligent answers to anything, and always get on his nerves.

“Listen, it sounds like your day isn’t going particularly well and I have the utmost sympathy for that having had a few bad ones myself, but I have a diner full of hungry people, so if coffee is all you want I’m gonna have to ask you to wait.”

At this, the woman gasps out loud, her eyes widening and jaw dropping indignantly.

“Excuse you? Just coffee? This is classism! Discrimination! You’re the one who serves coffee in the first place, which I know by the way because I saw someone with a take-away cup with your logo on it, and if you don’t want my business then I guess I should just leave.”

This makes Minho snort out loud and turn to her bemusedly. “Fine by me.”

She lets out another indignant gasp and goes up to the counter, grabbing a newspaper that’s just lying there. He hears the bell signaling another order is done, and goes to fetch the plates, but he keeps her in the corner of his eye.

“You,” she says when he walks past her to take another order, “what’s your zodiac sign?”

He stops in his tracks and turns to stare at her. What in the world was this woman even doing in here? She must be some kind of crazy. Or many kinds, he mutters in his own head.

“Well if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just going to assume which one,” she says defiantly, staring at him for a moment before huffing. “Okay, taurus it is then.” She then grabs a pen, writes something on the section of horoscopes in the newspaper and tears it out, holding it out to him. “Take it,” she says when he just keeps staring.

“Why should I?” He asks in confusion, and she huffs again.

“Because you should read your horoscope, of course,” she says in a tone that implies he’s being an idiot. Boy, does he feel like one when he takes the note. It says Give the crazy woman a cup of coffee, or she’ll never leave you alone. 

“What is this?” He asks exasperatedly, spotting the customers wanting to order becoming impatient.

“It’s your horoscope, duh,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him. “You should do what it says and keep it, I’ve heard that horoscopes have been updated to be the same every day from now on.”

“Every- just fix your coffee-maker, or better yet, get a new one!” Minho finds himself yelling back, and the woman just smirks at him.

“No, I like my old one, my kid put googly eyes on it and we named him Lambert. Now get me my coffee so I can get back to work on time!” Minho stares at her for a bit longer. “You do know that if you’d just given me the coffee when I asked for it I would have been gone already, right?”

He realizes that she’s right, even though he hates to admit it. He gives her a stern glance and goes to take the couple in the corner’s order first before quickly pouring four cups of coffee and handing them to her in a cardboard tray.

Once she gets them, she gives him a huge smile that makes his stomach do a flip before grabbing them and running out the door - not before giving him more money than the coffee is worth. He huffs, staring after her through the window for a moment before being pulled back to reality by the loud clearing of a throat - a customer wants to order.

A few days later, it’s the middle of the afternoon lull. All the dishes are done, all unused tables are cleared, and Minho is filling salt and pepper shakers at the counter when the bell above the door signals that someone entered the diner. He looks up and immediately regrets it when he sees the crazy woman from before accompanied by a little kid.

He begrudgingly has to admit, he had been thinking about her a lot. Her eyes had been so captivating, and the smile she had given him before leaving had made him feel completely out of his depth somehow. Every time he poured a cup of coffee for someone, all he could think about was her. Which is crazy, because he doesn’t even know her name.

This time, her hair is let down and styled in gentle waves. Her clothes aren’t rumpled, and she’s wearing make-up. And yet, the one thing that pulls Minho in is her eyes. Well, that and her absolute angel of a kid. The kid’s eyes are the exact same shade as her mother’s, her cheeks round and rosy, her hair long and neatly brushed, and her bag so full of books it hangs slightly open due to the zipper not being able to close all the way around the sheer volume of them. Her mother helps her hop onto a chair at a table, taking the bag and placing it on the floor. The little girl immediately reaches to grab a book out of it, but her mother snatches it mid-air and places it on the other side of her own chair, out of her daughter’s reach.

“But mom,” the little girl whines with such an adorable pout Minho is sure he would have given in after 0.2 seconds flat, but the woman just shakes her head.

“I know you want to read, and I’m really really glad about that, but we’re gonna be eating now, honey. You don’t want those library books to get all sticky, now do you?”

At her mother’s words, the little girl gasps and shakes her head. It’s the cutest thing he’s seen all day. “I would never let them! That’s gross, and I would probably be fined!” Then she gasps again, her eyes even wider than before. “Would it get put in a record somewhere?!”

Minho expects her mother to simply calm her down, tell her that she probably won’t be put on some list of wrong-doers and that, even if she was put on one, it wouldn’t have any consequences other than a $2 fine.

“Oh yes, you’ll be put on a record. It might even go to the police,” is what she says instead, and Minho blanches. Aren’t you supposed to comfort kids instead of scare them?

“No way,” the little girl says, eyes still wide as saucers.

“Yes way,” her mother says with a straight face and a playful tone. “They’ll put you on a list, and then they will forward it to the police, and they will pay to have a man with a camera to follow you around and take pictures whenever you make a mess. Then all those pictures will be sent to Harvard when you apply.”

The story is ridiculous, and yet… Minho finds himself smiling. It’s kind of funny. Then he starts to fear that the kid is going to cry. He really can’t handle children crying, he hates the sound of it and never knows how to fix it so he gets all panicky and ends up leaving most of the time. (It also kind of breaks his heart, but no one needs to know that.) However, the little girl doesn’t cry. Instead, she grins at her mother.

“Ah yes, whatever shall I do.”

At her response, her mother huffs happily and ruffles her daughter’s hair. The little girl opens a menu and starts browsing through it, looking remarkably concerned as she reads it over. Her mother starts looking around, and suddenly locks eyes with him. She smiles awkwardly. That’s when Minho pulls himself together and realizes he should go take their order. He clears his throat and walks over to their table.

“You’re back,” he remarks in a monotone.

“Ah, yeah,” she says, looking down at her hands on the table. “What are the chances I didn’t act quite as crazy as I remember? Because what is crazy when you think about it, you know?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor, but I would say you qualify,” Minho answers before he really registers what’s going through his head. He freezes, scared that he offended her. She might get on his nerves (kind of), but he doesn’t want to be mean nonetheless. He might lose a customer, after all.

“I agree,” the little girl chimes in, looking up from the menu and grinning at Minho so brightly he’s sure it could have blinded him. He feels his heart squeeze tight. “Mom gets crazy when she doesn’t get her coffee.”

“Hm, well I don’t think you’re old enough to know whether I’m crazy or not, missy,” the woman responds, sticking her tongue out at her daughter, which the little girl does right back.

“I read more than you do, so I would say I am more qualified to make a judgment on that than you are,” the woman’s daughter bites back with a sarcastic grin, and Minho just stares as the woman rolls her eyes and calls her daughter a nerd under her breath with a proud smile through it all.

Having to move on for the sake of his sanity (because if he gets any more opportunities to stare at the woman’s eyes and demeanor and general presence he will absolutely lose it - out of frustration or attraction is unclear), he clears his throat a little and raises the notepad and pencil he has at the ready to take their orders.

“Oh, right,” the woman sighs, grabbing a menu and flipping through it quickly. “I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries, a milkshake, a grilled cheese, two donuts and a cup of coffee. Hana?”

Minho just blankly stares at the woman, shocked at the amount of food she had ordered just for herself. It’s 4pm and she ordered food for at least two people? Then again, he muses to himself, she did have a kid so there was probably a husband around somewhere. Maybe they were meeting up and having an early dinner before the town meeting that night?

He tries not to think too hard about the notion of her having a husband; it’s stupid to be disappointed, especially when he still doesn’t know her name or really anything about her except for her crippling caffeine addiction.

“I want a cheeseburger, too,” the little girl - Hana - says thoughtfully, chewing on her lip. “Oh, and can I have extra fries, please?” He can’t say no to her adorable angel-like face (just as he predicted), and just nods, so she continues. “I also want a milkshake and a chocolate muffin, please.”

Her bizarre order goes over his head first, as he is distracted by the little girl’s impeccable manners and the thought that maybe, just maybe, all children aren’t demons, but then he registers what she said and raises his eyebrows as high as they can go.

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of food,” he points out gently. She thinks for a second, chewing on her bottom lip again, and then nods firmly.

“Yes, please,” she says, and he just nods.

“Okay then,” Minho says, half expecting her mother to chime in and tell her that no, it’s a Wednesday and she can’t have that many sweets, but nothing comes aside from an indulging smile.

He goes to the kitchen, tearing the page he had written on out of his notepad  and handing it to the chef dazedly. Then he turns around to look at the table again, and just stares. There was no way that little girl could eat that much food, was there?

As it turns out, there was. Minho watches in astonished horror as the sweet angelic little girl puts away a cheeseburger, extra fries, a milkshake and a chocolate muffin. Who really takes the cake, however, is Hana’s mother. His theory about the father joining them had evidently been entirely false, as the food that already had been a tall order for thwo people to consume had been completely devoured by no one except a mid-sized woman and her tiny six-year-old. On top of that, halfway through their meal, the older woman had ordered an extra plate of chili fries. How in the world those were gone in ten minutes, Minho would never know, and he is pretty happy that he can escape that knowledge.

When they are done eating, Hana’s mother patiently helps her wipe down their table so she can take out her homework and get started on it. She then looks around until she finds Minho and waves at him to come over with a smile. He ignores the somersault his stomach does at the gesture.

“Want to pay?” he asks, fully expecting that to be the case.

“Uhm, not yet. Could I just have another cup of coffee?” the woman asks, and he decides enough is enough.

“You do know caffeine is horrible for your health, right? So are burgers, fries, chili fries even more so, donuts and milkshakes,” he points out, fully expecting a screaming match. To his surprise, the woman just smiles brighter.

“Sure I know that. So, my cup of coffee?”

He just blinks in pure astonishment. He then turns around and goes behind the counter to grab the pot of coffee, returning to their table to fill her cup. Then the little girl looks up.

“Excuse me mister, what’s your name?”

The way the little girl has him wrapped around her finger already is terrifying. His heart is melting, he feels the urge to be all sappy and ask her about school, her friends and her hobbies, and play games with her or something. Whatever would make her smile. He has no idea where that urge came from.

“Uh, it’s Lee Minho,” he answers dumbly, looking down into those innocently sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Mr. Lee, could I have some orange soda, please? I’m a bit thirsty,” she says, and he feels the need to save the poor girl from her mother’s habits. Not really, but he is a healthy man himself, and he wants a kid like her to live a long, healthy and happy life.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some water, then?” he asks gently, but when she shakes her head, he just sighs. “Coming right up. Oh, and you can just call me Minho.”

“Okay. Thank you, Minho. My name is Hana, and this is my mom Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” she beams at him, and he feels himself melt once more. Damn it.

“Nice to meet you too, Hana,” he says and goes to fetch her soda.

Since that first afternoon the L/N girls visited his diner, Minho sees them at least three times a week for the next 3 years. Well, he sees Y/n pretty much every morning for her regular coffee fix. Apparently they did manage to fix Lambert, but apparently his coffee was “better than anything Lambert could ever make.” They told him vehemently that Lambert could never know this, and he had to keep it a secret from him. They both now greet him by name, and they usually have a quick chat about what’s going on, just like he does with some other regulars.

Then again, he can’t exactly claim that he is quite as interested in the other regulars as he is in the mother-daughter duo. He asks them about work and school, and they pull him into their debates over stupid stuff (that Hana almost always wins), and he finds himself enjoying it. It must be something about their positive outlook on life, or how crazy smart Hana is, or just about how excited they are about seemingly dull and boring things. They talked about the little town’s makeshift cinema as if it was entertainment of the highest degree, better than most things you can do in big cities, despite it being someone’s living room with a cheap projector and a popcorn machine. He does not understand it, but it sure is refreshing.

He’s still just as smitten with Hana as he was the first day, if not more. She’s intelligent and funny, and even though she does certain childish things, she largely feels like an innocent grown-up. He had once asked her about a book she was reading, which turned into a (one-sided) debate on different classical writers and their influence on both society and one another, and he was lost in the first minute. He briefly wondered if her mother had any idea what she was talking about, but it quickly became clear that she did not.

Then one day, only Y/n comes bursting through the door of the diner, during mid-morning no less. She is almost frantic, breathing hard and fast, eyes wild and hair ruffled.

“Minho!” she exclaims when she sees him, body sagging in relief. “I need your help.”

He immediately sets down the pot of coffee, walking towards her with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“My coffee?” a customer says impatiently.

“Bite me,” Minho responds over his shoulder without hesitation.

“It’s Hana,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. Minho puts a hand on her shoulder as he feels his heart speed up to a truly concerning pace. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to make her feel better, or if it’s purely to steady himself, but he thinks it doesn’t matter. “She-she has this, uhm… this stomach ache, and a really, really high fever, a-and it won’t go away and I was, uhm, I was reading this book, and,” a breath leaves her in a whoosh before she gulps down another one, “and it said something about if pressure on her stomach makes her feel better, she should go to the hospital because it might be appendicitis so I was going to take her to the hospital, but my stupid car won’t s-start and I need…” she stops and takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before looking at him with absolute fire in her eyes. “I need you to take us. Please.”

Minho’s brain is going a mile a minute. He thinks about nothing except for that poor girl in pain. He thinks about how awful he feels whenever he has a fever, and how much worse it must be for such a tiny, innocent little girl. And then he thinks about whether or not she’s staying warm despite her high temperature, because he heard something about keeping the temperature up helping the body beat viruses and bacteria and making you healthy faster. And then he thinks about what he should be doing in this position, because he’s never been a father bef-

And then he stops. He stops and thinks about the fact that he is not her father. He is not the person who should be worrying like this. He is not the person Y/n should be turning to, because she should have a support system in her husband, and he wonders why in the world her husband isn’t currently breaking a million traffic laws speeding down the highway to get his daughter into capable hands. And then…

He doesn’t like to think about it too much, but sometimes he can’t stop himself. Mainly when it’s late at night, and the town is quiet, and all he can hear is the hum of his broiler and the light shifting of the sheets whenever he breathes. That’s when he can’t stop his mind from imagining. Imagining being Hana’s father. God, how proud he would be. He imagines walking her to school, buying her gifts for her birthday and spoiling her without spoiling her too much because he still wants her to be a rational adult some day. He imagines cooking for her, imagines the day he gets her absolute favorite food right, and the way that Y/n would be in the kitchen while he cooks, sitting at the kitchen table in the house they would have, talking absolute nonsense with their daughter. He imagines waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Hana getting a glass of water in the kitchen, only to roll over in bed and find Y/n, his wife, right there, sleeping soundly beside him.

That’s usually when he stops himself. But this time, he imagines that whole situation. And then he imagines Y/n, his (hypothetical) wife, asking another man to help her take his sick daughter to the hospital, and he can’t do it. So he does what he has been so diligently avoiding, and asks her.

“What about her father?”

Minho’s voice is gentle, and he looks into Y/n’s eyes just as softly. He wants her to understand that he would do absolutely anything for Hana, hell, he would do anything for her because he has no doubts that he is so in love with her he would marry her on the spot even though they’ve barely broached the basics about one another, but in this particular instant he really does not want to step on any toes.

But then, she scoffs. She scoffs at him, rolls her eyes, and her jaw clenches a bit. It’s a clear signal to him that her father is most likely not an option at the moment.

“Okay I know we haven’t talked about this and we really should, and I promise you we will, but please can we talk about it when my daughter is not in excruciating pain and needs her mommy? Please?”

So he lets go of all his preconceived notions and nods. He squeezes her shoulder once, then turns around and grabs his keys. He doesn’t even glance into the kitchen as he yells for his chef, Felix, to handle things for the rest of the day, even though he hears a startled and confused shout right before the door swings shut behind the pair of them, because he thinks that as long as Hana and Y/n are okay, his business could burn down for all he cares.

They get to the hospital okay, and Hana is immediately ushered into an exam room and then to an operating room. Minho isn’t in the exam room with them, but he does go to see the little girl off before the surgery.

“I’m scared,” she whispers to her mother, eyes shiny with unshed tears, but her mother just shushes her with a calm smile.

“That’s okay. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere except for the waiting room and maybe the cafeteria until you can come home with me.”

“Even if Channing Tatum asks you on a date right now?”

“Mm, I would have to consider it, but I think that if Channing can’t wait, we weren’t meant to be anyhow,” Y/n teases her daughter who just giggles in response. Then Hana turns to Minho.

“Thank you for driving us,” she says meekly, and he feels his heart twist and crush into a ball in his chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, little one,” he smiles gently, and she reaches out a hand to him which he grasps immediately. “Thank you for letting me see you off before your surgery.”

“I’m glad you did,” she says back, eyes a little less teary. Then she gets a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you think I’ll have a cool scar?”

He can’t help himself and scoffs a little laugh, squeezing her hand encouragingly. He sees Y/n smile too, and he has somehow never felt as complete as he does in that exact moment. It scares him. It’s not real. But he will keep pretending for as long as he can.

“The coolest,” he answers before the doctors let them know that the OR is ready for them.

Minho and Y/n walk out to the waiting room and sink onto the chairs heavily. He is briefly impressed by how well she seemed to be handling everything, before he turns to her and sees her shaking, tears streaming down her face. She seems to be holding her breath, too, probably not wishing to openly sob in a hospital waiting room.

He briefly considers his options of hugging her or not before deciding that screw it, she needs comfort and he’s there so he will provide it for her. He smiles gently despite his heart breaking in his chest at her tears, and gets in front of her to half-crouch so he can give her a hug.

For a second he worries that he overstepped her boundaries, but then he feels her completely melt into his embrace and bury her face in his shoulder to muffle the sobs she no longer can hold back and shield her tear-streaked face from the other people in the room. She relaxes so much that they almost fall onto the floor, and Minho decides that it’s best to just pick her up in his arms and settle on one of the chairs with her in his lap.

It’s a horrible moment. She’s crying, sobbing, shaking, and he can’t do anything except hold her there. The woman who was so strong, so determined and so unique just crumbled in his arms like a tower of sand. He doesn’t say anything, just holds her. He puts a hand on the back of her head, the other remaining around her waist as she sits horizontally across his lap. He gently squeezes whenever her sobs get louder or her breathing picks up, just reminding her that he is there and he will remain there until she asks him not to.

After twenty minutes or so, her crying subsides into regular sniffling, and he feels her pull back from his shoulder to wipe at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Then she clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice still shaky.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to help,” Minho says sincerely.

And it is sincere. There is nothing that has ever fulfilled him more than this moment, helping and feeling useful and needed and wanted. It’s a sad moment, awful even, but he feels like there is nowhere else he would rather be either way.

He has come to terms with the fact that he views Hana as family. He sees her so often, and she always talks to him, listens to what he has to say almost as if she admires him, and it fills his heart more than anything. When she gets full points on her homework, as she always does, no one (except her mother) is more proud than he is. As long as he gets to be in her life, he is happy.

“God, I’m sorry for bursting in there and just babbling and making you take us,” Y/n breathes out as if she didn’t hear him. “You really didn’t have to, but I pushed and now you probably hate us bo-”

“Impossible,” he interrupts, and Y/n stops rambling. “You two are part of my routine now. I care, you know?”

She gazes at him in shock, searching for any trace of insincerity. When she doesn’t find one, her face slowly melts into a fond smile despite the fear still present on her face. He briefly thinks that she never looked more beautiful, although he’s pretty sure he thinks that every time he lays eyes on her.

“Thank you, Minho,” she sighs out, slumping a bit again.

She seems to realize she’s still firmly positioned on his lap, and immediately gets up, clearing her throat. He immediately mourns the loss of her weight on him, but doesn’t say anything.

“So, I think I promised you a talk about Hana’s dad,” she says after a few moments of silence.

“Oh, that,” Minho says, suddenly feeling like a douche. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. It has nothing to do with me anyway. I just wanted to make sure I don’t… make a situation uncomfortable.”

Y/n snorts, and he immediately shuts up. What’s that supposed to mean? Did he say something stupid?

“Minho, how many times have we been at your diner in the past few years?” she starts, an unreadable look on her face. He thinks it’s unnatural how she manages to look beautiful even in hospital lighting. “I can’t count the amount of times. If her dad was around, don’t you think that he would have shown up, or we would have mentioned him at least once?”

He casts his mind back over the years, and realizes it might have been a stupid question. Then again, some fathers weren’t very present in their children’s lives. Maybe he lived out of the country, or he worked night shifts so he was always asleep during the day. He had no way of knowing.

“I don’t know,” he answers after a few moments. “Some people are just like that, I guess.”

She slowly nods, mulling over his words for a second. “I suppose,” she then says, smiling faintly. “He kind of is, actually. Either way, to set the record straight; her father - Changbin - isn’t in the picture.” When he failed to mask his intrigue at the answer, she just laughed a little. “I got pregnant at 16. He wanted to get married, but I didn’t. Kind of glad now, to be honest - I doubt he will ever grow up.” Her words hold an edge of irritation, but she is evidently trying to push that feeling back. “He talks to Hana on the phone sometimes, when he gets the time. Last we talked I’m pretty sure he said he was in Ibiza? It doesn’t really matter. I have Hana, and she has me, and we’re okay like this. We learned not to expect too much from him long ago - not that we were expecting much in the first place.”

Minho listens until Y/n stops talking. He struggles a bit to figure out what he thinks of the situation. At least the man had offered to do the right thing, he supposes. Then again, from the sound of it Y/n had made the right decision in not marrying that guy, whoever he is. He comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t actually matter. Like she said, the two of them have one another, and if they say that’s enough, then he believes them.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me, and letting me know I wasn’t severely pissing some dude off for acting like a father to his daughter for a few hours,” he jokes mildly, and then regrets it. He shouldn’t have said father. Just because he sees Hana as a sort of surrogate daughter does not mean that she or her mother feel the same way, or even think that it’s okay.

But then Y/n smiles softly again, and he can relax. “Yeah. She’s lucky to have someone who does.”

His heart feels like it’s beating in his throat, his body warm from the inside due to all the feelings filling his chest. God, he wishes he had the courage to offer to do it always, to move in and help Y/n with raising her daughter because he knows that she must have it hard at times, no matter how angelic Hana is. But he doesn’t. So he just nods and smiles.

[littlesparklight]

Was thinking a little about Paris' love interests, and how there are only three named ones - Helen, Oinone, and Antheus - and these three are the only ones we can say with certainty that he's actually been sexually/romantically involved with, in one version of a story or other. To be sure, Paris' letter to Helen in Ovid's Heroides includes the (bragging) note that other (specifically royal) women have shown interest in him, and that "even" nymphs (or at least one) has done so.

When it comes to Ovid specifically, compared to Oinone, who basically all three letters confirm Paris has been involved with/married to, I'm not sure those other, unnamed women are supposed to be imagined as actual romantic/sexual incidents/relationships. Paris clearly brings them up in the letter as a way to apparently seem more attractive (to Helen), and so the women's (supposed) interest in him, not any actual realization of either his or theirs attraction, is what's the point. The Iliad has a couple other mentions that could be interpreted as some sort of "generalized womanizing behaviour" I suppose (Hektor and Diomedes' insults). But given the culture of the time, I think that's unlikely. And given the context of the circumstances, the war in general and Paris backing away from any duel with Menelaos in particular, him being called woman-mad (or ahem, driving women mad) and a seducer would make more sense if it's not about any random amount of women, but specifically the one instance and particular woman that has led to the circumstances of the war, and the war being ongoing.

I. Helen Helen is undoubtedly love interest that is the oldest, most important, and, frankly, for the story the only one that matters and is necessary. Since I've already talked about it elsewhere I don't want to go on about the point of how Helen's interest in Paris is basically constant (even when in some later sources she is explicitly kidnapped) and her complicity, if not outright action, in her leaving Sparta with Paris is almost always a factor in their story. The Trojan war in general but Paris' character in specific does not need any other relationship to both show what sort of character he is (willing, at the very least, to seduce/sleep with a married woman showing interest in him and then convince her to leave, and at the most to kidnap her against her will; either way he will be willing to break xenia and refuse to give her up).

Honestly, the fact that Paris refuses to give Helen up no matter what is just as much potential proof of his loyalty to Helen/the relationship and the earnestness of his feelings, as it can be proof of, as many likes to look at it, him being arrogant and refusing to give up ~his prize~. (With the implication he doesn't view her as anything else, but if so that is no different or worse from the majority of men in the tradition.)

II. Oinone Oinone's most important function story-wise (aside from adding background to both her and Paris' lives prior to the war), is as part of one of the methods of Paris' death. One of, which is why I don't actually consider Oinone necessary to the story. In the Epic Cycle's Little Iliad, Paris dies right there on the battlefield to Philoctetes' arrows. Which means that the first textual survival of Paris' death does not require Oinone. Doesn't necessarily mean Oinone and her part in Paris' life in some matter is much later; she could well be just as ancient! But the point rather is, that for the story to happen at all, up to Paris' death, she isn't actually "necessary". Oinone is first potentially mentioned by Bacchylides (5th century), referring to her probable death, but the fragment is uncertain so it could be about Althaia instead. Hellanicus also has some part of her story around the same time, we just don't know exactly if all the parts were present yet.

Oinone is a nymph, and presumably older than Paris (potentially by a lot). She marries a teenaged boy (not that girls weren't married teenaged, either, but given the probable timelines involved with Judgement/recognition/Paris leaving for Sparta, Paris wouldn't have been particularly old at the time of any potential marriage). He's also a slave at this point. Oinone and Paris only seem to exist as a pair on Mount Ida; Oinone never comes permanently to (if one wants to pay attention to a mention of her having met Kassandra in her Heroides letter)/settles in Troy, unlike most other nymphs that marry mortal men (kings and princes). They live in her realm, basically. And Oinone, as a nymph, has no "need" of Paris like a mortal woman marrying a mortal man would. She has a life, a home, a family she can (and does!) go back to when Paris leaves her. She isn't shamed, and is not without recourse or resources to keep living as she did before she got involved with Paris.

Obviously it hurts to be left behind when you still love someone and they leave you for whatever reason. And Oinone clearly loves Paris to the very end, so much so she regrets not saving him, thus causing his death, and kills herself for him. (Which is part of why I, personally, go with the Little Iliad's version of Paris' death.) But relationships can end (and divorce is a thing, was even back then and in the myths themselves), and with Oinone not being mortal, the "only" damage to Oinone is her injured heart.

I think what's interesting with the Oinone-Paris-Helen connection is that Paris seems to be basically just as serially monogamous as Helen is (Blondell in her book uses this phrase for Helen). He goes from one wife/relationship to another, and does not keep sleeping with the previous woman. "Not cheating" on either woman involved here is, ahem, certainly a low, low bar to clear, but given the general sexual behaviour and licenses of male characters in Ancient Greek myth, it's a bar seldom cleared.

III. Antheus I've seen the full version of Oinone and Paris' story being called a product of Hellenistic (heterosexual) romanticism, and while that may or may not be true since we can't exactly know if all the necessary parts weren't existant before the Hellenistic age, Antheus' story seems to me to be exactly this.

His earliest mention (and only surviving such, as far as we have it) is in Lycophron's Alexandra, firmly Hellenistic era. Antheus and his story seems to be tied into either an alternate way for, or maybe an additional explanation how, Paris goes to Sparta. The Judgement can certainly still exist in their story, but when you look at the extent of it I've vaguely begun to wonder if later audiences/authors didn't think the vague potential of simply going off on a guest-friendship journey was enough explanation/incentive, and came up with something else.

The full version is basically this (mind the slight repeats), explained by Tzetzes' scholia on the Alexandra:

The only thing that doesn't make sense, really, is that Troy then takes Paris back; usually expiation exiles do not get to go back home, but the tradition of course needs Paris and Helen (in one form or another) in Troy, and so he will be welcomed back.

I know I'm not alone in having delighted in taking advantage of Antheus as a potential love interest, but I have to point out that as we see here, there is nothing that actually implies Deiphobos was involved with Antheus before Paris (or, as happens in my own spin on this, that he is the one Antheus eventually chooses). All we have vouchsafed for us is their common interest in the same young man, and Paris accidentally killing him.

(You'd think male characters in myth would stop playing discus around or with their male lovers/love interests after the first time someone died that way...)

Antheus is as unnecessary to the story as Oinone can be. Even more so, really, as much as I love each and every instance of proof of same-sex desire in Greek myth. His function in this version of things actively interferes with the more common version of the story of how Paris goes to Sparta, compared to that Oinone is basically a past relationship and then a future end and can easily be slotted into what exists as the "mainstream".

[somacruising]

TALES OF THE RAYS: VAN'S 3RD SKIT (ENGLISH TRANSLATION)

MASTERPOST

Van's last skit! I'm not entirely sure of the context behind why Van and Alexei are meeting. It's probably because they're both cool Commandants in their respective games.

Anyway, here is Van's side of the two skits they got with their dual mirrage arte.

Charismatic Leader

Alexei: That’s all I have for today. If you learn anything new, please contact us via the mirrage communicator. 今回の情報提供は以上だ。また何か情報を掴んだ際には魔鏡通信などで連絡しよう。

Van: Thank you for the information, Commandant. I didn’t expect you to deliver it personally. 感謝します、団長殿。まさか、直々に出向いて下さるとは思いませんでした。

Alexei: I had to attend to some personal business. It just happened to be nearby. 野暮用があったのでな。偶然立ち寄ったに過ぎん。

Alexei: Since our exchange has concluded without incident, could you please tell your subordinates to relax? 無事交渉は終わったのだから部下たちに警戒を解くように指示してもらえないか？

Van: As expected, you noticed them. やはり、気付かれていましたか。

Alexei: Masking their presence so skillfully is to be expected of a Commandant’s subordinates, but it won’t work on me. 上手く気配を消しているのはさすが謡将の部下といったところだが残念ながら私には通用せん。

Van: I apologize for the discourtesy. You all may come out now. これは失礼しました。お前たち、もう出てきてよいぞ。

[ Legretta and Arietta emerge ]

Legretta: I’m sorry for the trouble, Alexei. 申し訳ありません、アレクセイ殿。

Legretta: However, I would like to correct your misconception. We made the decision to observe ourselves, we were not under Commandant Van’s orders. ですが、一つ訂正を。この場で待機していたのは、閣下の命令ではなく私たち自らの判断です。

Arietta: If anything happened to the Commandant, everyone would be in trouble. 総長に何かあったら、アリエッタたちも困る、です。

Alexei: I see, those are some admirable subordinates you have there. If only mine could learn from them. なるほど、随分と殊勝な部下をお持ちのようだ。私も見習いたいものだよ。

Van: Your compliment honors me. Still, I would like to apologize if their presence caused you any discomfort. お褒めに預かり光栄です。ですが、彼女たちの同行を不快に思わせてしまったらお詫びを申し上げましょう。

Alexei: Well now, it seems you’re quite popular. Unlike mine, your subordinates care about you a great deal. I envy you. なに、改めて謡将の人望を思い知らされた。私と違って、部下たちから慕われているようで羨ましい限りだ。

Van: That’s quite an insecure statement for someone who had led an entire country’s military, isn’t it? 一国の軍を率いていた人物としては少々弱気な発言と取れますが？

Alexei: That was in my previous life. Now I’m just a small man leading a small army. それもここに来るまでの話だ。今は小規模な軍隊を率いている矮小な人間だ。

Alexei: That’s why I have high hopes for a man such as yourself. And why I hope that you will come to me in due time. だからこそ、貴殿のような男には期待しているのだ。いずれ私のところへやって来てくれることを楽しみにさせてもらおう。

[ Alexei leaves ]

Arietta: Commandant, my friends are chasing that man, now. 総長。さっきの人、アリエッタのお友達に追いかけてもらってる。

Van: There’s no need for that. That man isn’t a threat to us. いや、その必要はない。こちらに害のある人物ではないからな。

Legretta: Still, that man believes he can entice you into his service. Didn’t those mirrists say he’s a man we should be wary of? しかし、あの者は閣下を仲間に引き入れようとしています。鏡士たちの話では警戒すべき要注意人物だということですが？

Van: They’re not wrong. However, he is still a useful man. It would behoove us to build a friendly relationship with him…for now. 確かにな。だが、それなりに利用価値はある。今は友好な関係を築いておくのが得策だろう。

Legretta: Understood. But, I would still appreciate it if you allowed us to accompany you the next time you decide to meet with that man. 承知しました。ですが、あの者との交渉の場には出来れば今回のように我々の同行を許可して頂けると助かります。

Legretta: I would never be able to look Tear in the eyes if anything happened to you. 閣下に何かあっては、私もティアに顔向けが出来ません。

Van: Very well. But, understand that if he becomes our enemy, we won’t get off lightly. よかろう。だが、もしあの御仁を敵に回すことになればこちらも只では済まないだろうな。

Legretta: Does he have some sort of power? あの者にどのような力が？

Van: He’s very skilled, but above that, he has a powerful ability to manipulate people. 腕も確かだが、何よりあの御仁は人を掌握する力に長けている。

Van: The fact that he was able to captivate so many people in the short time before he was turned into a Living Doll is proof of that. リビングドール化されるまでのわずかな時間で多くの帝国兵を心酔させたのが、その証拠だ。

Legretta: I’m surprised to hear you speak so highly of him… In that case, we will remain vigilant. 閣下��それほどまでに評価するとは……。では、私たちも引き続き警戒しておきます。

Van: I entrust you with that. Still, to think he would try to make me one of his pawns. 任せたぞ。それにしても、この私さえ手駒に収めようとするとはな。

Van: Unfortunately, I’m no obedient pawn. He will learn that I am willing to abandon my humanity if need be. だが、生憎私は従順な駒ではない。時には背信棄義も厭わない人間だという事を知っておいてもらわねばな。

[dozing-composing]

I have been absolutely loving your Brock Samson headcanons! Do you have anymore dad Brock (especially girl dad Brock) HCs? Because you’re absolutely right, we need more dad Brock

ThankYouThankYouThankYou- I'm So Glad Someone Agrees! I Could Talk About This Forever Omg. He's Practically Dripping With Dad Energy.

ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ…

✦ He has a total soft spot for his child(ren). There's nothing he wouldn't do for them. ✦ I think we can all accept the fact that he'll try to keep his O.S.I work to himself. He'd be ridden with anxiety, running different scenarios through his head and how it could all be prevented. But then again, he can't run away from it either. If they found out about his job, he'll tell them everything. After that, he's making sure they stay safe. Overprotecting them would be an understatement. ✦ If he's a girl dad: ▸ He's playing dress-up with her and attending each and every tea party there is. ▸ Makeup and nails? Um, yeah. He acts like he doesn't enjoy it, wearing his iconic scowl when she applies lipstick. ▸ He'd learn how to do different hairstyles. There are trials and tribulations with this, but he'll always pull through, and his daughter would have the BEST look ever. ✦ If he's a boy dad: ▸ He'll teach them to play catch, with a baseball of course. He tries to stay away from football ever since the incident back in his college years. But if his child preferred it, he'd overcome this and play with him. ▸ Cheers him on if he joins some sort of sports. He'd be the loudest in the stands. ▸ Catches him imitating his old man. Brock's had a few shirts missing, only to find his son dressing up and acting like him. ✦ Either way: ▸ He'll play fight with them. A little roughhousing here and there won't hurt. He knows his own strength and when to reel it in. ▸ Pillow forts! He'd help them build some big and tall ones because, well, he's gotta fit in there too. ▸ I can see him teaching them about his favorite bands. "Gotta start them young," he says. ▸ He'd give a lot of piggy back rides, and shoulder rides. Any time they hold their arms up, he'd pick them up. ▸ He definitely teaches them some sort of self-defense. It's sad that he even has to think about doing this, but the world is cold and cruel. He'd be devastated if something were to happen. Better safe than sorry. ✦ Any photos taken of him and his kid(s) will be used as blackmail from his partner. ✦ And as his kid(s) grow older, they inherit a lot from him. His famous jacket would no longer be his. Led Zeppelin wouldn't be just his favorite band anymore. ✦ It doesn't matter what gender his child ends up being, they'll have him wrapped around their finger. ✦ He'll support them regardless of the path they take. Even if it's to join up with the Guild and live as a villain...

[crossdressingdeath]

Kyvir: My old memories and my past self - I can never get them back? Withers: If thou couldst recall in full every barbarity thou hadst committed, every tragedy thou hadst authored... wouldst thou truly want to? Kyvir: It is a dishonour to my victims to not recall their names. Withers: All their names are written. One day, if thou truly wishest, I will show thee, and we shall remember them together.

Interesting that Withers never actually says Durge's memories are gone for good. Which of the three characters I'm aware of mentioning it means we've got Omeluum saying that someone is keeping them from remembering, Sceleritas being convinced that their memories are gone for good, and Withers not confirming it either way. But Withers doesn't actually answer when Durge asks if they can really never get their memories back, he just asks if they'd want to. I did wonder if it was going to turn out that Withers took their memories, actually. The way total amnesia is the only side effect from the head trauma and the way Omeluum says someone doesn't want them to remember suggest that it wasn't just the brain damage that took their memories. But then, Withers only gets involved in the plot some time after Durge ended up tadpoled... Although they've lost their memories right up until they get out of the pod on the nautiloid. But Withers was still in that temple at that point, so... could it have been him? I don't know. But I think it would've been really fun if it turned out that Withers had taken Durge's memories because the Urge's control over them from pre-adolescence had led to them ending up so emotionally broken down from all the death and grief it and they have caused—I really do get a strong sense that their foster family and the incident with their lover are not the only times the Urge has tried to make them kill people they loved, and presumably usually succeeded—that the only way to give them another chance was to erase all those memories until they had enough hope of getting out from under Bhaal's thumb that they wouldn't give up the moment he tugged on their leash. That might end up being the interpretation I end up going with when I'm writing anyway, just because... this is not how severe brain damage works and also we are told straight up in act 1 that Durge doesn't remember anything at least partially because someone doesn't want them to and that goes all sorts of nowhere and it bothers me because someone taking Durge's memories is a fascinating concept, especially given only the gods who are against the Dead Three had reason to do it.

Also, I love Withers offering to go through all of Durge's victims with them if they really think they need to remember them. He doesn't say they have to face this, and he doesn't say they should pretend it never happened; he just tells them that if this is something they need to do, they don't have to do it alone. Which is a unique position, seeing how the companions don't exactly take what few mentions of Durge's past they get well and Gortash (the only person other than Sceleritas who seems to have genuinely liked pre-amnesia Durge) doesn't really seem to consider that maybe the details of their sordid past are. a lot to take in. Up to this point Durge likely would've expected that if they wanted to look into their past in any way beyond asking Gortash for details they would have to do it alone, but the moment they say that this is something they feel the need to do Withers makes it clear that he's going to be at their side throughout. Although I do wish there was an option for Durge to say they want to remember their past because it can't have all been bad, right? There must have been some good in there, right? I'd love for Durge to be able to say "I know I committed atrocities, I don't need the memories to know that, but I want to know if there was anything good in those days and the only way to know for sure is to remember it for myself."