#Look if there's any chance you go to hell I'm personally going to craft the gayest spell to get down there Montero-style.

[pressagie]

tw: homophobia

hello!! first of all i just wanna say that i love your blog (@/diospirando) so much. i found you through your uquiz (which was really helpful btw). i came here to ask about my love life. here is a little bit about me: my hobbies include learning about marine life and watching films. i am a lesbian and come from a pretty religious family and almost everyone i know is also very religious. i haven’t come out to anyone for obvious reasons except for a few really close friends. i myself am not religious and have left my religion last year, however i feel this overwhelming sense of guilt for leaving even though whenever i try to come back to my religion i just can’t get myself to believe in it again. sometimes i wish i could just go back to believing in it like i did before and try my best to start liking men because i really dont want everyone i know and love to hate me. all of my irl friends are homophobic and i feel a lot of guilt for what i am and after constantly being told my whole life that i will go to hell for simply loving someone i just dont know anymore what to do because i am really so lonely. a lot of my irls are in relationships and i just wanted to ask if there is someone for me as well? like someone who is able to understand me unlike all of the other people in my life and accept me for who i am? and is there a chance of that person being a guy? (i know this sounds bad of me asking since i just said i am a lesbian but i really am just hoping that there is some guy out there that i will like so i can continue to have a good relationship with my family and friends). i am honestly just really sick of being lonely and not being understood, i just want to meet someone who gets me well. i have a preference for tarot but you can decide which works best for my situation. i’d also like to request a book passage and song of your choice. again, thank you and sorry for this question being so long.

hi im so sorry im the person who sent the last anonymous ask (the one that mentions being a lesbian and having a very religious family). i forgot to add something to it and i have no idea how to unsend/edit an ask because im kind of new to tumblr but i just wanted to add something to my question. I'd like to know about future patner and the type of person they are (any information is about), it can be their appearance, personality, achievements, where I'll meet them or even how they're doing currently in life whatever you can channel I'll be happy with anything. thank you :D

Hey 🤎

I'm so sorry you're going through that.

(And thank you for the TW.)

Speaking as a queer person with christian and queerphobic relatives: please remember that you can't choose to like men, or anyone for that matter. Obviously, attraction is fluid – but let me ask you this (and tell me to fuck off, if it's not my place): even if you were to be with a guy, would that solve all the problems which the people in your life have?

I can't tell you what to believe, just as no one should. But if you need to hear this, and it helps in any way: I promise that you're not going to hell for being a lesbian, and you deserve so much better than the judgement and guilt from your family and other people. You deserve to be happy, be it single or otherwise. You deserve understanding, to feel connected – and not only acceptance, but FULL BLOWN RESPECT.

(I'm really glad that you liked the quiz! Guessing you meant this one?)

(Did I understand correctly that you follow me @diospirando? Either way, feel free to come say hello 🥰 I'm very curious to know if we've interacted before, but no pressure!)

(Oh and you can't unsend/edit asks.)

Note: I added some info to my pinned post, and I recommend (to everyone who sent in questions) giving it a read.

Now on to your reading... I did try Tarot first like you asked, but the Oracle's what you get today 🤠

This deck is based on animals at risk of extinction in the Iberian Peninsula (where I live) and others with relevant roles in our mythologies/religions... I included their names, in case they have any personal, special meaning for you – and there are some marine species :]

Spoiler alert: you only got birds 😂 but at least 3/5 (that I checked) are related to the sea!

Is there someone for me as well?

— Who is able to understand me unlike all the other people in my life and accept me for who I am?

ASCENSION & the pigeon Columba palumbus azorica (horizontal)

I take the terms the author of this deck uses with several grains of salt cause I don't buy into the common spiritual associations with, e.g., ascension (but that's a conversation for another time) so here I'm taking the card to mean distancing yourself, traveling... Flying, if you want to be more literal.

This species is endemic to basically one of the Azores islands only – meaning it can't be found anywhere else in the world. If you combine this information, I think it's fair to say that you can find someone (to have a relationship like you want) if you look somewhere you already expect to find them, such as a specific community (that could very well be online)!

Sidenote: it landed on my lap instead of the table, and I usually use that to signal if something/someone has tried to catch your attention, or is still trying – so pay attention.

I'd like to know about my future partner and the type of person they are.

— Their appearance, personality, or even how they're doing currently in life.

RECOGNITION & the falcon Falco naumanni (horizontal) AUTHENTICITY & the gull Ichthyaetus audouinii (upright) + VISION & the eagle Aquila adalberti (inverted) WISDOM & the eagle-owl Bubo bubo (upright)

You may recognize each other from somewhere, but not like you knew each other well before (there is a Reunion card to symbolize that kind of previously established contact/relation in a stronger way). This falcon is a summer migrant so that might point to when you first crossed paths and/or will cross again.

Their personality is authentic, but you'll have a hard time seeing that (at first). This could be related to your own interests and lifestyle, and the concept of individuality (refer to the gull's and the eagle's links for inspiration to think deeper about this).

Either they're being thoughtful regarding how they live, and making wise choices, they're a student/teacher – or both! The Bubo bubo (adorable name) being a species of eagle-owl can indicate some connection to the previous eagle card (individuality, perspective...).

This is getting a little long so I'm gotta let you take it from here 🐚🌊

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865) Chapter III: A CAUCUS-RACE AND A LONG TALE

«They were indeed a queer looking party that assembled on the bank – the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.»

Movement by Hozier in Spotify Singles (2019)

Thank you for trusting me to read for you. I would love to know what you think: if this resonates with your circumstances, and what comes of it. Don't be afraid to give me honest feedback and suggestions, after all, it'll help me become a better reader :]

Do you want to expand on this or have another topic to explore? Leave me a (follow-up) question!

You can always include the numbered tag associated with your reading(s), and I'll add it to the future posts as well, so they are identified as belonging to the same querent, and easier to find – check below, next to #OMEN DEAL.

For Ko-fi tips (zero pressure)

I honor the spirit who helps with my practice – for winding and guiding my path, learning how to sit with me, and being a light to read by.

Elioth Gruner's Milking Time / Araluen Valley

[alexiroflife]

"my duty to you"

fluff, pining, suggestive themes, kingdom au, (i was inspired by the dynamic in the movie "Epic" w/ queen tara & ronin or this one if yall know what i'm referencing)

bodyguard!toji fushiguro x royalty!reader

Synopsis: toji, a man raised in poverty who has been forced to turn to violence for the sake of survival, finds himself at the princess' side as her personal bodyguard

to sum it up: toji has never been fond of royalty, yet he submits to his responsibility to protect you with passion he has not shown to anything else

WC: 14,242

Warning(s): mentions of trauma, violence, assault, vaguely suggestive themes

Toji knows he was never cut out for an uppity lifestyle.

He’s a gruff man, rough around the edges with an air of dark mystery radiating about him. He has never believed himself to be an attractive man, at least in the realm of those who make women drop to their knees and swoon with romance. He’s more fermented, well-aged, well experienced, and he has the looks of someone who has endured hell and more, not those of a freshly groomed prince blooming in his wake.

Toji, though a man of difficult upbringing, having undergone more of reality’s harsh lessons than almost anyone in this world, has a specific set of skills that comes in handy no matter the setting. He is not a man of incredible wealth, prowess, or poise, but he can associate himself with the likes of those who are by means of what he does, and what he does remarkably well. His talents are the only reason, he believes, why he has been in your service, smack in the middle of your world for teetering into two years now.

Raised in the slums, orphaned by his absent parents, Toji taught himself a way to live. He thinks that he was born hard, when he looks back, for no one else could have survived the way he had after those years of scrounging around for food, desperately searching for change and a decently comfortable pile of grass he could sleep in. As the world grew harsher, pushing against his growing mind and body, Toji pushed back harder, angrier, more solid and more grounded. He was blessed from the moment he entered this earth with unique physical qualities that gave him an advantage when fighting to live, his internal and external mold serving as an inhuman benefit, as though he was meant to struggle the way he had all of his life. As though fighting was his destiny. 

The dark haired man had encountered many different means of keeping himself afloat over the years too, some more grim than others that he refused to look back on. Nevertheless, after the will of the merciless wind had tossed him around feverishly for far longer than he realized would have been normal for anybody else, he understood that his place in this world was to stand proudly as a man capable of unspeakable violence, inept at the art of killing for the sake of his own gain. 

It’s a dog eat dog world. Toji learned this before he even hit puberty, and therefore, he learned what it meant to transition himself into one - a far more gnarly beast than any of the world’s nastiest entities of evil could conjure. If he only had the choice of eating or being eaten, Toji was going to devour before another dog could get the chance to bare his teeth at him. 

Well into his familiarity with his own brutality, his craft honed in and sharpened to perfection and his years of youth having flown by with the snap of his fingers, Toji is recognized by a crowd that he’s despised for as long as he can remember. 

He is in the middle of a boxing match, one of many he participates in for the hell of it and the cash rather than as a profession, when a representative from the palace ogles him from the crowd, standing out as a sore thumb amidst the screaming patrons clinging to the velvet ropes of the ring, drunk off stinking liquors and spit flying excitedly from their mouths in awe as Toji, undefeated, lands a particularly gruesome blow to the face of his opponent. His foe collapses, blood smearing from his crooked nose, and the jade eyed man filled with years of pent up rage and stress, straddles the nearly unconscious man’s torso and plows his fist into his face repeatedly with wild, shrunken eyes and tight lips. 

Toji only takes notice of his visitor in the midst of his abuse, eyes flickering up quickly to mull over the crowd when he finds a terrified face masked in a black cloak, attempting to shrink into the rest of the room. But Toji sees him clearly, a palace ambassador with no place in an underground ring so far from home.

The dark haired man refuses to even look at him as the owner tells him that he has a guest. He unravels the wrap from his stained fists, back tensing. Toji tells him to fuck off, not even having to whip his head around to see who it is. He can tell by his boss’ tone and the silence of the said visitor that he is exactly who he believes him to be. That, and Toji never receives visitors, for the people who are well aware of his reputation stray far away, fearing the worst from his seemingly deadly lust for blood. 

His owner, however, does not turn the man away. Toji understands that he must have been paid a good deal in jewels by this cloaked man to allow him to stay back here, not leaving until he asks for some kind of favor. An agitated exhalation rises in Toji’s chest, heavy eyes tossing over his shoulder to glare at the ambassador. He gulps, trembling hands reaching up to lower his hood.

“The fuck do y’want?” Toji spits.

The ambassador’s hesitant gaze scatters over his bare back, his fists, the scars littering his skin and lip, and the murderous glow in his venomous eyes. He looks terrified for his life, face dotted in beads of sweat and eyes still full of innocent light quivering. “I-I’m here on- on behalf of the King and Queen.”

Toji stills, brows drawing together. The man’s words seem to have an impact on his boss, normally an uncaring man, for he leaves with a swiftness once royalty is mentioned, sworn to silence by hush money. 

Toji scoffs, shaking his head and turning back around to refocus on his task. “You got the wrong guy,” he dismisses. “Now beat it before I kill ya.”

But he doesn’t, standing his ground rather poorly, clearly shaken by the fact that his life has been threatened for what Toji can only assume to be the very first time. He rolls his eyes at the sentiment, at how weak, fragile, and perfectly stupid palace folk are. “S-Sir, please-”

“Sir?” Toji raises a brow, crouching to sit down heavily on his bench, tossing his bloodied bandages onto the ground before him. His abdominals, bulky and intensely defined, ripple with his movements as he slides his towel from his shoulders, swiping it over his skin roughly. “I ain’t no sir, pal.”

The ambassador stiffens, lips pursing together. “Um- Mr. Toji…?”

Toji twists up his mouth at him unimpressed. “Fushiguro.”

“Yes! Y-Yes, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Christ, it’s just Fushiguro.”

“Oh,” he nods erratically. “Yes, then. Fushiguro,” he clears his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a matter of great importance.”

“Clearly it is to you lot, or else your dumbass wouldn’t be here,” Toji grumbles, settling a hand on his thigh. “I don’t have time for bullshit. You either get to the point, or the King and Queen are gonna be down one messenger.”

Toji is a violent man. He has had to be violent in order to live, in order to eat, in order to sleep, and now in his late thirties, it has become embedded in who he is. Violence is his first response to every circumstance, to every person who approaches him, to every dirty look that he is thrown, to every unknown within this world that has been nothing but greedy, cruel, and selfish to him. 

Even so, he is not always keen on his word when he threatens such things. He knows that if he were to lay a hand on this toothpick, he would be hanged and quartered within the hour, and Toji isn’t too keen on allowing the kingdom dickheads be the reason his life comes to an end after he fought so desperately to even reach past his twenties. This ambassador knows this, and yet, he is still shaking like a leaf as though Toji has any authority over him, because in truth, he does here in his territory, only temporarily. Toji can use the fear he inspires and the intimidation of his capabilities and large frame to attempt to shake a palace ambassador off of his ass, but there is nothing more to his stern words other than a desire to be left alone.

“You must listen,” the little man continues to press. “The King and Queen- t-they send me for the sake of their daughter!”

Toji groans. “I don’t give a shit who they sent you for, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“I fear they are fully aware of who they sent me to speak with,” the ambassador’s brows angle with a sense of urgency. Toji, having been bored by the conversation, rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose and tilts his head tiredly. “N-Not many of us know about the things you do, but I was told to seek out the strongest, and you are… him.”

“What the hell do they want me for? I ain’t got shit for you pricks. Just leave me be.”

“Fushiguro,” he calls again before Toji can stand and turn away. “I understand you may not care about what the kingdom needs, but you are being offered a great deal of money. A generous salary.”

Toji’s ears perk up at this. He rises slowly, sauntering over to the man with slim, suspicious eyes and a taut jaw. Sweat glistens his bare torso, rolled up sweats hanging low on his waist. As he grows closer, the ambassador takes notice of his great size up close, and his eyes widen as he cowers away slightly from the man that casts a shadow over him completely. 

Toji stares down over his nose and tilted chin with a frown. “A salary? From the King and Queen themselves?” he repeats, and the man whimpers a hum in affirmation. “The hell is going on? What could possibly be turning their panties in a bunch to offer a job to someone like me?”

“It’s their daughter,” the man re-emphasizes. 

“Who?”

“The princess!” he says as though it is obvious, a desperate expression taking his features. “She needs security.”

“From what?”

“The King and Queen grow old, and so does the princess. Their reign is coming to an end, and with that, the princess’s life is often endangered by those seeking to take her right to the crown while her parent’s grow less capable of ruling. There’s already been two assassination attempts and one assault attempt within the past few months,” the ambassador explains, severely. “The princess needs someone to look after her, to be by her side as she prepares to rule as queen and as she looks for a husband.”

“And you want me to be her bodyguard?” Toji raises his brows.

“In a sense… yes.”

The dark haired man snorts in the ambassador’s face, the latter deflating at his reaction. “Of all people, you want me?”

“...Yes. That is correct.”

“What, the brat doesn’t have knights or something?”

“None that are capable of what you do.”

“And how the hell do you know what I do? You come to one match and think you're an expert on my life?” Toji grits his teeth, leering down at the poor man. The ambassador raises his hands in defense, stepping back anxiously. “I see everyone and everything that crosses my path. I’ve never seen you before in my life, and all of a sudden now you show up with a job offer from the fucking King and Queen. Gimme a break.”

He walks off, irritatedly throwing his towel in the corner and ripping open his locker on the other side of the room. “You’re right. I haven’t been watching you, but I’ve been asking around town about someone who could fit the role for weeks, and everyone was too afraid to mention you until a few days ago. Since then, I’ve heard stories.”

“People here like to gossip,” Toji murmurs.

“But your name scares people, right?”

“I don’t care what my name does.”

“Fushiguro, please,” he begs. “I don’t believe you are a man who cares about what happens in the palace-”

“I’m not.”

“But you must care about a sense of duty? Of justice? Of compensation, at least?”

“Obviously I care about money more than I do any of the other shit you just mentioned. But you tell me one thing,” his face hardens. “What the hell has the kingdom done for sorry asses like me, huh? Why should I be the one to help them when they haven’t helped me a day in my life? They’re all a bunch ‘a stuck up, frilly airheads stuck in their own bubble of what they think is urgent. So what if the princess gets a little spooked here and there? Maybe it’ll teach her a life lesson about what the world is really like. ‘Cause I’ll tell ya this, the girls where I come from don’t get to have a bodyguard before bad shit happens to them.”

Toji isn’t entirely sure why he is making a point to shame the people at the top when in the end, he knows he is going to take the job. Money, Toji finds, is incredibly valuable where he is from, and considering the hands he has dirtied in the past to get it, this proposal is practically nothing. Still, that doesn’t mean he likes the kingdom any more for their lack of involvement with the lower classes. His morals, which remain very few, go against this proposal he already knows he is going to accept - slaving away for those who made him a slave to gruesome fates, but hell, what can a man really do when he’s at his wits end and unfathomable riches are being presented to him on a silver platter?

He can complain, yes, but nothing can rank higher than the money the palace is practically drowning in. Besides, he doesn’t have to stay, he thinks. He can entertain this little charade for as long as he has enough funds to set him up for life, and then he’ll be out of there. In and out, quick and easy, and this place would never see his face again. 

A grim look befalls the ambassador’s face while Toji rummages through his belongings for his clothes. He is clearly discomforted by Toji’s words, which was the goal the man aimed to achieve in the first place. 

“We can not force you to do anything you do not desire to do yourself,” the ambassador starts, and somehow, Toji senses that the man is lying for the sake of making it appear as though Toji has a choice. “But I implore you to consider. The princess is unlike her parents. She is younger, eager. There is a legacy she must carry and people she must lead. Without her, the entire kingdom collapses. Including your village.”

Toji’s nose twitches. “Maybe that’ll do this shithole some good,” he grumbles.

The ambassador sighs, shoulders slumping. “Please… think about it.”

Toji rolls his eyes, turning and knuckling a hand to his hip. “How much money ‘we talking here, buddy?”

And oh, is the pay fucking obscene.

Toji doesn’t think he’s ever fathomed such grand numbers and jewels in his head, having been restricted by his village’s limitations, but once he hears his pay manifested into reality by a simple verbalization, his guilt trip seizes and he is signing his life away almost happily.

From then on, Toji is bound to the likes of you, his signature scribbled messily over a royal contract and securing him to you from now until your death… at least, that is what the fine print says. His plans, however, differ, and when he has fled from you, he will be hundreds of miles out of the kingdom’s reach.

That is his plan. To run away, but you unfortunately do not make this a very plausible task for him.

After days of training that Toji does not at all listen to, of watching elder royalty turn their nose up in disgust at the way he speaks and carries himself, of hearing murmurs of disapproval as he saunters down red carpeting with the head guard to meet yet another person that he will not remember the name or importance of, of being sworn to secrecy - to only serve as a protective, lethal air of silence and nothing more - to refuse any and all physical or verbal interaction with the woman in his protection, and of being fitted into a stuffy black uniform clad with gold detailing that serves only for show since he would have hardly bothered to lift an arm in that uncomfortable ass thing, let alone kill someone, Toji finally meets you.

And he has to admit that you are not at all what he expects.

Adorned in a regal soft pink gown that crowds from your waist and pools down to the floor, cuffing delicately at your wrists through sheer sleeves and tugging over your torso snugly with a corset, you stand before him in your chambers like an angel gracing earth. Your bejeweled gold crown sits upon your head with complementarity and your ringed fingers clasp each other before your lap. You're decked in what Toji can only assume to be century old gems, necklaces, and chains which he has to physically fight himself from reaching to pluck from your body and run off with. Standing before him, he decides that you are worth at least twenty times more than the almost forty years of life he has spent picking around for specs of funds. 

The thought agitates him. 

While he wishes he can say that he is the only one agitated, he notices a flick of fire in your (e/c) eyes as you size him up, trace your gaze over him with judgment and a pout on your glossed lips. Your presence is almost frightening with power as the two of you stare at each other, him with blank indifference and you with very apparent disappointment. 

When the head guard eventually takes his leave now that you are in the hands of your newly bestowed bodyguard, the door closing behind the two of you as you enter the hall in preparation to go handle your duties, you stop in your tracks, dress ruffling along with you. Toji, who has been told to remain ten feet behind you at all times, freezes like a statue, eying you when you whip your head around to glare at him.

Toji’s heard of elegant aestheticism, of the otherworldly beauty that the royal family carries, but he hadn’t believed it until he sees you face to face - though he’ll admit, he imagined you to appear less… aggravated and more peachy? Light. Dimwittedly sugary.

“Listen up,” you demand, a shocking bass carrying in your tone. You’re dominant, he noticed, or at least you are attempting to be. You stand proud, tall, chin lifted and eyes narrow. This certainly isn’t the picture of spoiled naivety that he imagined you to be previously. “I don’t know whatever the royal guard told you, but I’m not a damsel in need of protecting. I didn’t agree to whatever this is or whoever the hell you are invading my life.”

Toji’s brow lifts in intrigue. You certainly are not what he expected. Not at all.

Encouraged by your tone, his lips quirk up into a subtle smirk. You drag your brows together in confusion, eyes catching the scar that stretches over the right side of his lips. “Do you find me amusing?” you frown.

“A little bit,” the dark haired man responds quickly, leading you to reel slightly in shock. He appears so unaffected by you, and you’ve never encountered a person who hasn’t scrambled to kneel in your presence or nervously abide by any and everything you say. The gaul of this stranger, you think, to stand before you so casually and smile as though your position of authority is some sort of joke.

“I beg your pardon?” you scoff. “You should mind yourself when you speak to me.”

“I’m not paid to speak to you, doll, let alone be sweet on you,” Toji scratches under his jaw, his posture slipping into something resembling his nature rather than that of a rigid guard. His hands find the pockets of his uniform slacks, hardly caring at all how disrespectful the stature appears to you. “In fact, I think you’re bein’ a little rude by tryin’ to strike a conversation with me in the first place.”

“Well, I did not advise you to answer me. I expected you to simply listen,” you state firmly. “Clearly, you are incapable of doing so without having something to say.”

Your comment is snarky, judgmental, and Toji at least finds that you match the idea of snobbiness that all royalty withhold. “If I got somethin’ to say,” he starts. “I’ll say it. You don’t gotta worry about me being untruthful with ya, I’ll tell you that. I’ll give it to ya straight.”

“And how do you think the royal guard would feel about such a thing?” you posed. “If they were to hear even a second of what you are saying to me now, you’d be booted from my side and this palace immediately.”

“And what exactly makes you think that I care about that?” he chuckles, watching you shift with sudden uncertainty. This man does not appear to be swayed by you in the slightest, and it is a bit off putting to you as a woman accustomed to your every beck and call being honored. “I thought you weren’t happy about what the ‘royal guard’ had me doin’. Besides, if you wanted me out, you’re the princess, yeah? You could kick me out yourself. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Your lips tighten, eyes digging further together. His attitude is strange to you as well as his dialect, the manner in which he speaks. Even his appearance is strange, for while he is dressed in your palace’s fabrics, he is drabber than everything around you. And even with this royal clothing, his face and build do not match his suit. 

He has tired bags under his poisonous haze of ivy hues. Dark tendrils of inky hair sprout over his forehead, his ears, and into his sharp gaze. His facial structure is hard, mature with hints of stubble sprouting over his chin, remnants of what you assume to be the guard forcing him to shave. He’s bulky as well, remarkably so. He’s an unnaturally large man, and his muscles bulge against his clothing as though it is going to burst with the raise of his arm. 

His eyes, however, are pools of green you have never seen before - not once in all your twenty seven years of living. While the people that you surround yourself with carry a light in their twinkling gazes sparked by a passion for protecting your throne and the privilege of the lives they lead, your new bodyguard’s eyes are a stark contrast. Even from afar, you can see the exhaustion swirling about them as he looks at you slyly. He’s weary somehow, the windows of his soul revealing a glimpse into his world, into the things he has seen, and that is how you deduce that he is not the same as you. Not at all. 

This observation of yours only gives you more reason to question him.

“Who are you?” you command. “You’re not from here.”

“You must be a smart one,” he quips sarcastically.

You grit your teeth. “Answer me, now.”

“You know my name, darlin’. That’s all you need from me.”

“Not if your princess demands to know your identity.”

“You ain’t my princess, girlie,” he stops you. “You’re my job. And I don’t do a lot of talkin’ on the job.”

You make a noise of displeasure, something between a grunt and a gasp, and Toji only revels in the way he has thrown you off. You sputter, taking a step forward with emotion. “Now you wait just a minute-“

“Princess!” a voice calls for you from around the corner, down at the end of the long narrow hallway by your bedroom door. You quickly swish yourself around into the direction of the address, and Toji watches how your dainty fabrics dance along with you, even long after you have stopped moving. Seconds later, an ambassador appears, peeking his head around the wall. “Are you well? You are needed in the second floor den to review some papers regarding your upcoming coronation.”

Frazzled, you nod unceremoniously. “Yes. Yes, my apologies,” you breathe out. “I am coming. My guard and I were just… I was merely informing him of my expectations here on out.”

Toji would have rolled his eyes at the way you all speak, the sound of it on his ears rather exhausting. He can hardly keep up with the properness of it all. 

“I see,” the ambassador nods. “I shall inform everyone that you are on your way.”

The man leaves, and you take a moment to breathe in and dust yourself off. You murmur under your breath to yourself what Toji can only deduce as assurances and affirmations, little words you tell yourself to keep your rather striking confidence instilled. You clasp your hands once more, bracelets clinking as you regain your composure. Toji stands in silence, watching boredly.

“Whoever you are,” you begin, turning your head to your shoulder so that your voice is audible. “I don’t need you. Despite what my parents say, I manage fine on my own. Keep your distance.”

The green eyed man watches you walk off, forcing himself to begin following at a reasonable pace. His eyes train on the back of you as you trek ahead, and he finds himself lost in his thoughts, formulating his opinion of you.

You do not take to him easily over the course of your adjustment to each other, and neither does he. You find his presence to be a burden as he trails after you everywhere you go, far more invasive and persistent than your knights have ever been. He becomes your second shadow, and while you are accustomed to having been followed around all your life, Toji’s approach is impossible to ignore. 

Even from ten feet away, you feel him there, watching, and it drives you mad. 

He’s light on his feet, for if it weren’t for his obvious mass trekking in your footsteps, at times you would have forgotten that he was even nearby. How someone as big as him could travel so quietly, you did not understand.

And worse than his hovering is how foreign he still is to you. You know absolutely nothing about him, and your parents, who you find to be useless in their aging stupors these days, will not bother to tell you anything about where he is from. It isn’t the fact that he frightens you, per say, despite the rather frightening energy that he emits. You notice the way people stare as he follows your path, how they internally conjure their own ideas about who this ominous figure is and what he is doing in a place so very clearly unfit for his type, but you are not scared. You believe him to be a nuisance more than anything, and if he is there to protect you, you feel you have nothing to necessarily worry about in regard to your own safety. 

In fact, you feel unfathomably secure, though irritated more often than not.

What you seek from Toji are answers. He abruptly appears out of nowhere under the vow that he will be stuck to you like paste to parchment for the rest of your life, and you are expected not to question his arrival? To question his place of origin? To question what he has done to secure a place as the Princess’ bodyguard with no experience in this field? To question what he has done to be trusted by royalty with your life?

It doesn’t make any sense to you, and you feel that it is unfair to be kept in the dark as the future queen in place of your parents. And every time you try to go to him about it, he either ignores you or gives you that cunning smile, scar stretching and lips spreading.

Toji himself is itching to get out of here the second he’s nestled in. He despises the atmosphere, the sneering looks, the air of shrewdness that envelopes him everywhere he turns. You’re an ungrateful thing, and that only makes his job all the more aggravating. You don’t know how good you have it, and yet you look at him like he’s doing more harm to your life than good when he is literally ensuring that you are out of danger’s path.

He studies you from his position ten feet away, watching how you take on tasks and prepare for the day of your coronation, communicating with villagers surrounding the palace walls with a generous grin and a glowing energy about your presence, and how you patiently sit with your parents at breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day as they practically wither away in their seats. You are always so poised and polite in the presence of other people, authoritative and strong, yet when he is alone with you, you’re wallowing in displeasure, throwing him heated glances and clenching your jaw tightly. You find it hard to behave elegantly in his company, and that fact alone gives him some hint of satisfaction. 

But what Toji truly can’t stand above all the waiting that he has to do on you with no sign of action are the meetings you have with princes from far away, seeking to take your hand as their bride and fulfill the role as king. Toji’s found himself biting his tongue more times than he can count when he’s standing with his back pressed to the wall in one of your many tea rooms, the umpteenth shiny haired, pearly teethed virgin bowing his head before you and pompously chanting about all the wonderful things he would bring to your life if you were to allow him to wed you. Toji finds the whole thing ridiculous, for obviously you don’t want to share your crown with another man, especially not a husband, but the unspoken law of your reign requires that you must find someone to stand by your side. And of course after that is done, Toji is still expected to follow you around day in and day out.

And for what? What purpose does this bring him aside from money? He hasn’t even been given his first stipend a month into this little endeavor, and he’s beginning to think that the whole ordeal is a scam, that he had been tricked into a false agreement. He should have known when the guard outright refused to pay him up front beforehand due to their lack of trust in his goals, which in truth was fair, because the Fushiguro would have run for the hills the second he got his hands on those riches. Nevertheless, he’s growing tired of the repetitive tiredness of his routine. He was promised a chance to at least defend your honor by fighting, but despite the King and Queen’s concerns, he has not seen a single threat to your life yet. 

At night, a weight drags down on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, how he even came across such a thing. Back home, if the townfolk were to hear about where he had run off to, they’d all laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man hungry for blood now at the will of the government that destroyed his childhood, his life. What a fucking joke. 

And you’re so perfect, it destroys him. To be serving such a deplorable image of sovereignty, to see your angelic face decorated in breathtaking clothes and to follow you around like a damn puppy with nothing to show for it. In your company, he is reminded of his place, of how much higher you are than he is. Though Toji is a man who has never cared what the higher class thought of him, in your wake, he feels helpless. He wants to say that he is holding out for a better future, that he is doing this for himself, but it doesn’t feel that way. He knows it’s not for him anymore, but for you, and what could you possibly bring him other than crisis after crisis, heart clench after heart clench, and more bubbling, searing aggravation over his place in society?

You are terribly beautiful, and Toji is not. He sees that the more he’s at your side, taking in the way everyone looks at you in comparison to how everyone looks at him. These palace walls are stuffy. They suffocate him, turn him against himself and almost make him forget who he is, and he can not stand it. 

He is convinced he needs to leave in the dead of night, to flee away without a trace left behind, off to a new world with no money and no plan. He believes that it would be a better fate than being stuck here… that is, until he is finally paid.

A monthly salary of a thousand gold and silver pennies combined. He is handed the sack of funds while he is off duty, hours after you have gone to sleep as though the exchange is illegal, and in the privacy of his cabin, his eyes glimmer with the reflection of the money in his grasp. His brow twitches, eyes still and jaw tightening.

He hadn’t believed it to be real before he got his hands on it.

He stares into the bag, into the past years he has spent on his knees crawling for barely even a scrap of this, into the future of tranquility where he can turn to rest without having to bloody his hands for the right to buy a sandwich, into everything he has ever done amounted into far less than one bag of this payment. He’s stupefied with disbelief, with greed, and hurries to escape that very night.

Toji is stripping himself of the bullshit pajamas the guard has sent for him to wear, tucking away the bullshit uniform he’s been snug in for weeks, and stuffing his pay into his beaten bag that he had tossed under his barracks. He changes back into his old clothes, the black shirt that hugs him comfortably and the sweats that pool over his calves, and he sneaks to the door when he pauses.

A glass window breaks just above him, and he whips his head up above. It’s coming from where your room is.

The dark haired man hangs his head low, conflicted. He could go, abandon you and pretend that none of this ever happened. He could go back on his promise to the kingdom, sentence himself to death by hand of royalty if he were to ever be discovered in his new home. He could flee from you, risking the chance of you dying under his protection and run off to live the life he has always dreamed of living, far from home, swimming in gold and silver.

Or he could stay. He could conquer whatever imposing danger he has detected within a half of a millisecond, his senses failing to fool him yet, and save your life. He could keep his promise to this awful society. His promise to you, and remain stuck forever.

Toji is inching out of the door, still pondering, leaning toward the latter hesitantly when a muffled scream rips from the open space of your window that has just been broken in. Your scream.

The dark haired man doesn’t know what takes over him as he drops his bag to the ground and rockets himself through his own window, foot first, to shatter the glass. His hands grip the rim as he flips himself over to face the exterior brick, digging his chipped fingernails into the crevices of the old stone to scale the side of the building that led to your room with swift agility. He claws his fingers into the ledge of your window past the grapple of a rope that was likely used to break in in the first place. A jagged edge of glass cuts his skin, but he hardly feels it due to the roughness of his callouses. 

Toji kicks his feet up and piles himself into your room, rolling onto the floor within a matter of at least five seconds. He rises slowly, chest rippling into his tight shirt as he visually locates what harm is befalling you.

You’re on your bed, kicking out against the cloaked figure hovering over you with a dirtied hand pressing over your mouth, his knees kicking open your thighs and another hand holding a dagger to your throat. A bruise circles the eye of the intruder just above the cloth worn over his mouth, likely a result of your fist to his face.

When you look up and find Toji, your panicked eyes widen in relief, your brows pressed together desperately as you screech out against the attacker’s palm. Your hair, normally so meticulously pinned is sprawled messily over your silk sheets, your satin nightgown threatening to ride up your thighs, ripped at the hims, and sweat pools over your chest as it glistens in the moonlight with each heavy, anguished breath you take. 

Toji’s eyes go dull, his face blank with something horrifying, yet familiar to him. You tremble, whimpering unintelligible sounds as the intruder turns to face Toji with foolish anger. “Get back!” he shouts through his mask. “Get back or I'll kill her!”

The knife’s tip presses further into your chin and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tight and mustering up whatever strength you have left to turn and push away. 

Toji says nothing, staring emptily into your attacker’s eyes.

Toji finds that there is a certain coolness that takes over his body and mind mere moments before he goes in for a kill. He isn’t sure if it's a form of tranquility, or perhaps his fellowship with the act having done so many times over. His eyes gloss ever, and every muscle in his body smoothes out into a relaxed state. He is motionless, still as a sculpture, but his eyes are hungry with rage, flecks of red bleeding into the garden of his IRISES, honing in on his target before he pounces.

You don’t even see Toji move before your attacker is ripped off of you and you can finally breathe, scrambling to press your back to your headboard and stare ahead in horror. You swear you had only blinked, but by the time your teary vision refocuses, Toji is drenched up to his forearm in blood, a curved blade which seemed to manifest out of thin air clutched in his hand. His arm is curved over his mouth, reaching back over his alternate shoulder as though he had just made a slicing motion. His breathing is slow, smooth, and a headless body collapses onto your floor.

Wide eyes of fear-stricken (e/c) stare at the mangled corpse leaking out onto your expensive carpet, and you don’t even notice the splatter of blood that has reached your cheek from Toji’s nimble action. You’re hyperventilating, attempting to gather yourself after having been stolen from your sleep and held at knifepoint, and now suddenly your attacker is dead on the ground. It had all happened so fast. Your head is spinning, and you’re shaking terribly. You can’t even see straight. 

With a heavy exhale, Toji lowers his twitching bicep to his side, tossing his weapon off in the corner with a resounding clang! He rolls his head on his neck, stretching it from side to side and cracking it softly, before opening his eyes to find you. 

You stare at each other in heavy silence, you in grateful, terrified disbelief, and him with the knowledge of how you will react to his violence. He has seen it before. The screeches that follow, the running that ensues.

He waits for it, but… it doesn’t come.

Instead, you just stare at him like a deer in headlights.

He moves to ask if you are alright, to do something to break the air, when your door bursts open after hefty pounds at your door. Your parents and a few guards, who Toji now sees are quite useless, stand in the doorway, wide-eyed. 

Your parents move to comfort you and envelop you in their arms while the guards run to the scene in shock, mulling over the body that lay before Toji. He gets an earful, angry reprimanding about having done such a horrible act right before your eyes, and Toji looks over at you, finding that your eyes are already in him.

You try to speak up and say that he had no other choice, to actually defend Toji in your shaken state, but the authorities around you hear none of it and usher to whisk you away while Toji and a few knights are left to take care of his mess. You look over your shoulder, gluing your gaze to him as you are pulled carefully away. 

By the time Toji is finished, cleaned, and has been lectured by the guard, he finds himself rather exhausted, but all he can think about is whether you’re alright or not. He is told that he can find you in the library on the west wing. He ventures out and reaches the space, finding you seated in a lavish sofa before your fireplace with the room guarded by your father and mother who whisper urgently with more knights. When they look up and see Toji, however, they fall silent and immediately part to let him in. 

He quietly approaches, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn’t make a sound, but you turn upon sensing him in the room. You’re cuddled into a warm blank that is wrapped over your shoulders, eyes heavy and tears damp. You sit in a sullen state, a still mess.

Toji rounds the sofa to stand far on your left side, body half concealed by the shadows of the unlit side of the library. The fire kindles gently over your face and in your eyes as you stare. Toji thinks that you almost look like a child this way, so vulnerable and disheartened. 

He’s seen things like this happen to women every day at home, only he didn’t always make it to help in time. For the first time since knowing you, he sees the same trauma in your eyes, the glimmer of innocence dimming ever so slightly. 

The dark haired man is not good with emotions, and he knows for damn sure that he will not know how to approach your own. He isn’t even meant to be speaking with you, but something deep in his bones is compelling him to you after witnessing you in such a horrible state. 

It’s his job after all. 

“You hurt?”

The question is gruff, blunt, and you look at him but not with an expectation for more. You sit with your knees to your chest as well, a position he has failed to ever see the Princess herself in. 

Eventually, you shake your head and look back to the fire crackling before you. “No.”

He hums, darting his eyes over you quickly. He sees a thin line of blood on your chin where the blade had been pointed into your skin. “You lyin’?”

You glance at him tiredly. “I am not injured,” you say again.

“Alright. You’re not injured.”

You look down, picking at your blanket as you chew on the inside of your lip. “…Toji.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you an assassin?”

The question catches Toji off guard, almost making him laugh. “That’s a little personal, doll.”

“I believe I deserve to ask right now. Forget the rules, the guards were not there. You were.”

He relaxes. You’ve got a point. “No. I ain’t an assassin. At least not every day.”

“But you have… done that before…”

“How else do you think I got the job?”

“Right,” you mutter as if reprimanding yourself for asking something so obvious. “You’re rather fast.”

He’s unsure where this stream of questions are coming from. You are still mellow, speaking below a whisper, but your eyes are in a different space away from what is before you. 

“Fast’s an understatement,” he mumbles and you give a nod, at least agreeing. “But yeah. I’m fast. Among other things.”

“And how long have you been…?”

“Killing?” Toji concludes the sentiment for you. You clamp your lips, retreating into yourself. “You can say it. It’s not gonna hurt ya.”

“Well, how long?”

Toji shrugs. “A while now I guess. I’m not a killer, but I do what I need to do when I have to.”

You nod, unable to find a verbal response to his words. Your lips purse forward and your eyes still beam into the fireplace in a daze.

Toji crosses his arms. “You scared of me yet?”

You exhale, corners of your lips tugging to the side. “You saved my life,” you say. “I am not scared of someone who has been hired to protect me.”

“That wasn’t really a pretty sight for a princess to see, though,” Toji attempts to reason.

“Yet you were not the man with the knife to my throat, were you?”

Toji falters. Once more, you’re right, but he’s a bit confused. He would have expected you to turn away from him, to reject his violent nature after seeing what he could do. But here you are, complacent with his abilities. Is it because of the shock?

He looks at you closer, but does not see any lingering signs of unawareness, or any stupor that freezes your mind and body. While you still look like you are slightly in a trance, you appear to simply be contemplating instead of suffering from shock. 

How are you so chill about all of this?

“I heard you’ve been attacked before,” Toji says rather bluntly. This makes you peek up, locking your eyes with his steely ones from afar. 

An exhale shakes your body. “So?”

“So?” he echoes with a scoff. “That’s not a big deal to you?”

“I told you before that I did not need you,” you say somewhat gently. “What you have seen tonight has happened more than you think, and will continue to happen in the future.”

“I hate to break it to ya, doll, but it didn’t look like ya didn’t need me. You didn’t really have much of a choice but to let me help you.”

“I have gotten out of those situations before. I could have gotten out of this one.”

Toji looks at you oddly. “Not from where I was standin’, you couldn’t.”

“I’m not weak,” you frown.

“I didn’t say you were. Hell, I saw the black eye you landed on the bastard before I snuffed his ass out,” Toji grumbles. “But you’re the Princess. Fightin’ isn’t your thing, it’s mine.”

“Do not attempt to fool me into thinking you wish to fight on my behalf,” you look him in the eye as you speak. “After all, you believe me to be inexperienced, don’t you? Sheltered. Naive.”

A moment of silence passes as Toji stares at you intensely, face cold. “Yeah. I do,” he admits. “If you’ve seen enough shit I’ve seen, you’d get why.”

Your eyes dance over his face with a pensive expression of patience. Your brows are slightly angled, denting the spaces between them, yet you breathe so deeply that it almost fools Toji into believing you are at peace.

“When I was six years old,” you start abruptly. “A tutor of mine tossed a candle to my head because I could not complete my times tables correctly. The wax and flame burned my shoulder badly when I tried to dodge. I have worn long sleeve gowns since,” you confess.

The dark haired man frowns, befuddled while you proceed.

“My grandmother, who had been heavily involved in my bringing when I was a child, was obsessed with cleanliness. Every night before I went to bed, she would inspect my room to ensure that it was tidy. If a single spec of dust was found on my floor, she would raise the back of her hand and smack me clear across the face. ‘You are a princess,’ she would say. ‘Princesses do not behave like slobs.’ Then she’d make me clean the room all over again. If it was still not to her liking, she would continue to hit me, and so on. I had welts on my body for years. I would try to ask my parents to tell her to stop, but they ranked her authority over my own every time. They believed her to be teaching me discipline. Now I do not sleep at night without inspecting every inch of my room for anything that is out of place.”

Toji’s face smooths slowly into something unreadable as he listens to you.

“When I was seventeen, I learned that men sought to ruin me. Diplomats and countrymen would visit with the same look in their eye when they saw me as I grew, seeking to force their hand to mine. One of them was banished after having been caught throwing himself onto me when I was alone. He left bruises on my arm from gripping me too hard when I tried to run away.”

Toji falters completely now, internally guffawed by your revelations.

“Over the years, I have been beaten, assaulted, and almost killed by those close to me, by those envious of me, and by those who want but can not have me. And now, with the influx of assassination attempts, I can do nothing but what I have been doing all my life; stand strong and kick.”

Your eyes swirl with honesty and grief as they lock with Toji’s pools of torment. “I may not know who you are, nor do I know where you came from or what you have been through, but do not assume that because we do not share the same origins that I am a stranger to the world’s cruelty. The kingdom tricks you into believing that we are a perfect society, when in reality, we are tainted by dark secrets swept under the rug and generational traumas. I have seen enough of reality within these palace walls surrounded by people I am meant to trust, only I do not trust any of them but myself. 

“I can see it in your eyes that you are broken too. You carry yourself in such a way, but do not allow that to blind you from any hardships I have experienced in my life. We are not the same, but I know inhumanity very well.”

Toji, rendered speechless for the first time in a very long time, watches as you lean over and reach to the other side of the sofa for something on the floor. You gradually reveal his satchel, the one he had dropped to rush to save you, and sit it on the cushion beside you. Toji’s eyes widen slightly when the contents of his bag clink together like wind chimes brushing each other in the wind.

“One of the royal guard found this in the hall,” you say calmly, lowering your hand back under your blanket. “I told him to let me hold onto it. That you must have misplaced it. Were you planning to leave tonight?”

Toji exhales, threading his fingers through his hair and glancing over the floor. Still moved by what you had told him about your upbringing, the man finds himself caught off guard once more by your confrontation. You’re smart, he has to hand it to you. Much smarter than he had previously given you credit for.

“Let’s face it,” Toji sighs. “You and I both know I don’t belong here. The whole kingdom knows. This place isn’t where I’m s’posed to be.”

“And still you took the job anyway,” you challenge. “This was your scheme all along? To take off with the first bit of money you acquire from watching over me?”

“Do you expect anythin’ more?”

“I expected you to be wiser,” you admit. 

“I am bein’ wise.”

“By fleeing from the only life of luxury that you have ever known?”

“I don’t live in luxury here, doll. I’m your bodyguard.”

“Even so, your bag is full of enough money to buy yourself a home, and that is only the first monthly payment. That isn't a luxury to you?”

“Luxury, to me, is doin’ what I want when I want it without havin’ to worry about anything else ever again.”

“Then where are you supposed to be?”

“Far from here.”

“You did sign a contract, you know. The guard and my parents would not take well to your abrupt absence. You would be treasoned.”

“Which is why I’d be long gone before they could find me.”

You sigh, turning away. Toji monitors you for a sign of disappointment, of anger, of desperation, but instead you remain indifferent. “I will not stop you if you choose to go,” you say.

Toji cocks a brow, lowering his arms to his sides. “You won’t?”

“You are your own man with your own ability to make decisions. I do not fault you for wishing to leave. I do not know you well enough to do so.”

Toji eyes you harshly, stepping closer and breaking the barrier of a ten foot distance. He approaches the other side of the sofa, peering down at you heavily as if to piece you apart. “You’re just gonna let me go,” he tests. “The hell do you gain from that?”

“Must it be about what I gain?” you ask. 

“I’m just a little shocked you’re not more pissed about this.”

“Toji, I was the Princess before you came and I will continue to be the Princess after you leave. I am not angry about what life you choose to live if it is separated from mine. I do not know what is best for you. That’s for you to decide.”

“And what about your guard?”

“They will be fine.”

“What about you?”

You soften. “I will be fine too.”

His mouth twitches. “I ain’t convinced.”

“Do you wish to leave or not?” you question. “You can not worry for my sake and desire to run away at the same time.”

“I ain’t-“ he stops himself, shaking his head and pressing his hands into the armrest. He wants to deny caring about what will happen to you, but his current hesitation over leaving proves otherwise. “You coulda died.”

“I could have died many times,” you counter. “I always manage.”

“And if one day, you don’t?”

“That will not happen.”

“Yeah, only if I’m there.”

You raise your brows and Toji catches himself, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He glances at his bag and reminds himself of his future, of his plans, of his life, and then he looks back at you, swarming in your wool blanket with such lovely eyes. Free of your jewelry, your crown, and your extravagant gowns and makeup, you look more human. You look softer, and Toji battles a newfound internal conflict - his growing desire to stay. 

Slowly, a soft smile rises to your lips that does not reach your eyes. Your soft skin, aglow by the flames before you, illuminates the warmth of your expression. “Do not tell me you are beginning to feel a duty toward me?”

“Duty ain’t in my vocabulary,” Toji defends, looking away. 

“Then why are you still here?”

He catches the testing look on your face and exhales in weary amusement. “Don’t get smart with me now, Princess. You won’t win that battle.”

“Just make up your mind, Toji,” you tilt your head and toss him a knowing look. 

You carefully shift and maneuver your body around so that you are laying your head on the cushion with your legs curled up to you, Toji’s bag still sitting on your left. The said man’s eyes follow the motion. “What’re you doin?” he asks.

“I’m going to try to get some rest,” you murmur, though you do not close your eyes. You stare ahead in exhaustion, but no urge to sleep comes over you. “You may do as you please. If you are not here in the morning and your bag is gone, I will assume that you have left.”

Toji looks back at his bag, torn. He’s itching to grab it, to swipe it up in his grasp and make a break for it, but there you are. The Princess, soon to be Queen of everything Toji has ever resented, and suddenly he feels a human connection to you. The things you told him, the steadiness of your voice as you spoke, the maturity in your eyes, the hidden, harbored scars, the arrogant will you carry to proceed into this life alone despite your susceptibility to harm… it got to him. 

And when he saw your face as you lay trapped under your intruder, how your body writhed with the involuntary will to fight despite your disadvantage, Toji was taken completely by an urge, a responsibility to protect you. To look after you. To kill for you. 

Therefore, neither of you say a word when Toji moves to pick up his bag and toss it onto the floor. In its place, he sits at your feet and tosses his arms over the back of the headrest, legs sprawled out before him as he watches the fire beside you. 

He stays there until the sunrise, and solidifies his fate.

After that night, Toji feels himself changing. Time goes by and you only grow stronger, approaching your coronation swiftly and taking on the role of Queen with regal pride. Toji finds himself staring at you when he’s by your side, which you have appointed him to after having a tense conversation with the royal guard, resulting in him no longer having to linger ten feet away at all times. He stands rather closely now when it is appropriate to do so, glaring ahead menacingly as he towers over your frame while you conduct meetings or speak with foreign princes and diplomats, who Toji keeps a sharp eye on with the knowledge of what you shared with him about your past interactions. 

He thinks of the pressure that weighs over you, and studies how you harbor so along with your traumas with so much poise. You don’t allow the things you have gone through to weigh you down, to deter your path, and he grows impressed with the strength of your mind. Without such, you likely would not be where you are today. 

Toji becomes one of the very few people you entrust your life with, if not the only person you fully trust to take your life into his hands. Despite his initial plans to leave you, he proves himself loyal to you, standing guard outside your room every night instead of retreating to his chambers and preventing disasters before they even happen. With his keen senses and hawk-like gaze, he catches suspicious figures in crowds, which he can recognize easily due to his upbringing as well. He used to be one of those lurking shadows, stalking packed spaces to find a target, only he was always too swift to be caught. 

Toji now takes to disposing of the people who mean you harm in private, away from your vision. While you are well aware of his capabilities, Toji has a tendency to become borderline sadistic when killing for you. Inspired now by his respect for you and your budding relationship, the honesty in your eyes and the sanctity of your life in his hands, he is more ruthless than he ever has been before in private, and he does not want you burdened by the vision. The guard does not question him, taking to caring for your parents and watching the palace walls while Toji handles the direct threats unto you. No one in the palace questions him any longer, for you have grown close to him and he to you, and the proof of him risking himself time and time again for the sake of you forces all heads away and onto the next thing. 

During the day, he is still and mute, a brick wall of eerie, bulky freight, but at night when you are alone, he’s making you laugh, sharing stories with you about gruesome bar fights he has been involved in and past jobs that have given him a run for his money. You always listen with curiosity, eyes bright with intrigue as a long forgotten book lay in your lap as you watch him, absorbing tellings of a world far from your reach. He does his best to leave out gory details, like the things that tend to keep him up at night, the things he is ashamed of having lived, but you always understand. You can always see more of him than he lets on in his gaze, how he stands and tenses, how he looks away after having held your gaze for too long. 

The dark haired man finds that he has never felt such security that you bring him, that while he keeps you safe, he feels safe in your defense, in your presence, in your path. You ease his mind somehow with your gentle grace and your unearthly beauty, with your loud cackles that he draws from you after dinner when he walks you to your room, a far cry from the contained chuckles you allow to slip when cozying up to someone for diplomatic and political purposes. 

You ease his mind with your warm grins, your soft hands that brush his arm when you get his attention, with the sweet breath that tickles his ear when you lean up to cup your hand over your mouth and whisper something to him. He always has to lean down for you as you reach up on your tiptoes, informing him of a task he must carry out in secret when all he can think about is the shiver that racks his spine when your coo of a whisper flutters directly into his ear. 

Toji does not want to admit that you make him feel strange when he starts to notice the way his chest tightens as you brush past, the air of your perfume lingering in his nose. He does not want to admit that this foreign warmth he now feels takes over his entire being, melting his hardened soul after he believed it to be beyond repair. He does not want to admit that he recognizes this feeling as love solely because he has never felt it before, never experienced the visceral pump of his blood into his heart or the honeyed comfort that slips into his understanding of lust. He does not want to admit that you attract him as more than someone he wishes to ravish, but as someone he has come to cherish deeply. 

He does not think it affects his job, for he has been at your side for nearly a year when you are finally appointed Queen and he still performs incredibly well. He stands at the upper corner of the grand hall, diamond chandelier twinkling brilliantly above your head in your wake as you inch your way down the aisle and up the purple velveted carpet. The kingdom watches you in awe, your gold encrusted gown dragging delicately over the floor, manicured hands clasped before you as you approach with your chin high and your chest puffed. You are a vision of artistry, of indescribable, unfathomable beauty, and Toji knows he loves you when he catches himself smiling gently as he watches you graze the room like fresh dew beaming on a crisp, sunlit morning. 

There is no sign of an attack when your new crown is placed upon your head, thanks to Toji and the word of his talents spreading like wildfire across villages, lands, and kingdoms alike. The entire world by now must know of the Queen’s bodyguard, who sticks to her side like glue and wipes out anything that even thinks of creeping into her path. His reputation proceeds him once more, yet now, he is proud of who he has become. He is proud, now, that he is killing for the good that is you, a woman deserving of every goodness that comes to her in this world, instead of for his own survival.

You do not marry. You refuse once you gain the power to deny the visiting of any more suitors, much to Toji’s relief. He had never been a fan of watching men kiss your feet, take your pretty hand in theirs and look you in the eye with a bent knee. He would have killed them all if you had not frowned upon so, for he did not believe anyone to be as deserving of a woman working to rebuild the economy for the sake of Toji’s village and all those who suffered along with him with such compassion and selflessness, not even him - as much as he cared for you.

Somehow, Toji’s duty to you triumphs over his desire for you. While he struggles, he respects you more than he has respected any human being in his life. His job is to make sure that you live, and that you do so peacefully and happily. You have transformed him into a noble man, and how you did so, he barely knows. What he does know, however, is that he loves you as much as he honors you. You are his Queen, he is your bodyguard - your right hand. He would never interfere with the boundaries set between the two of you, with the responsibility he has to you. 

Consequently, he stubbornly pushes away the telling looks that you share with him, your eagerness to jest, to press your touch to him and feel you near him, to remind yourself that he is still there. 

He knows. He sees it in your eyes, the unspoken yearning, the reason why you do not wish to marry anyone else, and you know that he knows, but he says nothing. He breaks his gaze away, he guides you back with a gentle hand to your waist and upper arm, and he leaves you every night, redrawing the line, keeping you at such a close distance. 

It’s been two years. The two of you now know one another better than you’ve known anyone, and Toji has been with you through thick and thin, through the death of you parents, the conflict with the council over the uncertainty regarding a future heir, your silent fatigue that only shows itself at the end of the day when no one else is looking and it is only you and him as he bids you good night. He’s seen it all, and you have seen him just as clearly. 

Tonight is no different as you enter your room sluggishly, sinking into the edge of your bed as you gaze ahead, an emptiness in your eyes. Toji stands at your door, examining you sternly. You look beat, aged by the years and the burden of ruling. The veil of composure lifts from you, and you slump, gown crowding over the floor and your aching feet, which dangle over the bed. 

Wordlessly, the dark haired man sighs and closes the door behind him. Within a second, he is kneeling before you, calloused hands grazing over the many layers of your gown to delicately cup your ankle. His touch pulls you back to reality and you look down, brows curling ever so subtly.

Toji cradles the back of your ankle and grips the stem of your glass heel. He slowly glides the cramping footwear from your foot, setting it to the side once it is free from its confinements. You watch him with ardor swelling in your gaze, his hands so rough when handling others, smoothing over your skin as though you are fragile.

He moves to your other shoe and glances up when he catches you staring in that way that makes his heart ache. “What is it, doll?” he murmurs, the nickname he bestowed upon you once condescendingly having stuck in a sweeter, more genuine manner. 

You don’t answer. You only gaze gratefully, tiredly, while Toji sets your other shoe to the side. He stays down on his knee, looking up at you. 

“You alright?” he asks and you sigh deeply. 

“You are the only person in this world I feel I can be myself with,” you eventually say earnestly, gently. Toji blinks, shifting slightly and nodding slowly.

“Back at ya,” is all he can manage to say under your loving stare. He almost feels suffocated by the way your eyes swallow him whole. “I get what you mean.”

“Everyone is just so-” you lift your hands in an attempt to physically depict what you want to say, but the words fail you and your arms stall in the air. “So-”

“Shitty?” Toji fills in with his own words for it, and you smile with a light giggle.

“Yes,” you drop your hands to your lap. “Shitty.”

Toji chuckles, the sound of you cursing still so funny to him. “Don’t I know it,” he agrees. He looks over your gown before back into your eyes, preparing to stand. “I’ll go call for the maids so they can’t get you outta this thing. You need to sleep.”

“Don’t,” you shake your head the second he moves to get up. He stops, sinking back down. “Not right now. I don’t want to see anyone else but you.”

Toji clenches his jaw, your words so sweet it kills him. “Don’t you wanna change? You get cranky in this thing after dark,” he jokes. 

“I know,” you say. Something flickers in your eyes as you look over his figure, a hint of desire swirling into weariness. “You do it.”

Toji furrows his brows. “What?”

“I want you to help me out of my dress instead,” you whisper. The green eyed man thinks he must have heard you incorrectly, his eyes going wide as he registers your request. “There’s nightgowns in that dresser over there. Bring one to me.”

“(Y/n),” he warns, heart fluttering and skin flushing over his chest. “I’m not gonna do that. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” you press. “As your Queen, I am giving you a task.”

“Yeah, but-” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna strip ya. That ain’t… I won’t do that.”

“Toji,” you lean forward, lids heavy over your eyes. You call his name sternly, yet still so quietly, and he can not help but bide by your will each time his name slips from your tongue in such a way when you need him. “I am asking you to help me. It is not wrong if it is what I want.”

“It’s wrong ‘cause I’m your bodyguard, not your-”

His words die in his throat before he can finish his sentence. “Not my what?” you mumble.

He gets lost in your gaze, in your scent, and he is struggling to find the words. His face is tense, brows knitted and lips curled, his scar creasing along with them. “I’m not in any place to do this stuff. You know that.”

“You are because I say that you are.”

“Anyone ever tell ya you can be a little cocky?” he smirks lightly to sway the mood. 

“Yes,” you roll your eyes. “You have.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he snickers. “Well, you are.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Help me out of this dress.”

“Doll-”

“Now.”

Toji exhales, for he finds that he has no other choice once you have made up your mind about something. He pushes himself to his feet and stands over you, holding his hand out to you. “C’mon,” he mutters.

You slip your dainty handy into his palm and allow him to pull you up gently to your feet. Your face meets his chest, his height never failing to shock you up close, and when you look up he’s already peering down at you with heavy eyes. 

“Show me how to undo this thing,” he says impatiently under his breath, and you can tell by his hastiness that his nerves are jumping.

“I will, but you need to take your time. It’s fragile,” you whisper and he nods slowly.

“Alright.”

“Can you remove my jewelry?”

He inhales sharply. “Alright,” he says again.

You turn slowly, moving your hair out of the way to expose your neck to him. He grits his teeth, seeking some sort of self control as his fingers move to unclasp your many chains of expensive necklaces. His knuckles brush your skin, and he watches as bumps ghost over your neck after he has touched it. 

Your scent invades him as his hands lower over your shoulders to bring your necklaces down from your chest. His chest bumps against your back accidentally, brushing over your shoulders, and you both twitch at the contact. God, he feels like a teenage boy, losing himself over breathing you in. 

You tell him to go place the necklaces on their stand on your armoire, then to find a nightgown for you to wear. Toji feels weak, rifling through your clothes as though it is a sin to even be seeing them. Your silk fabrics smooth over his fingers before he pinches one into his hand and brings it to lay out on your bed. 

“Now, see the string tying my corset in the back?” you ask over your shoulder, Toji humming distractedly when he locates it and stands behind you again. “Unravel it.”

As though entranced by your demand, he does, despite every voice in his heading screaming in protest. He should not be with you like this, the Queen, so privately in your room lit daily by the kiss of candlelight and swarmed by the scent of patchouli incense and your damned perfume. Toji’s head feels hazy, thick digits tugging at your string and drawing it out slowly, watching as the ribbon unfolds and drapes down your train.

“Now what?” he murmurs.

“Loosen it so I can take it off.”

“Heh?” he scrunches his brows, looking over the weaving of the lace between your corset. 

“Just peel either side of the corset back,” you clarify. “Now that it’s untied, it will come apart.”

He obliges with uncertainty, cautiously tugging back either side of the thick fabric, the lace stretching and pooling over your back. “Okay, I’m going to raise my arms so you can pull it over my head.”

“Jesus, this thing is so damn extra.”

“Be quiet and just do it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You lift your arms into the air and Toji catches the way your curves peak out. His eye twitches as he pulls the corset over your head, off your arms, and from your body. A second corset, thinner and more form fitting, graces your waist and exposes your bare back to him, as well as the healed burn on your right shoulder that you told him about so long ago.

He clears his throat, setting the outer corset onto the bed with his fingers stilling on your hip. “What now?” he asks.

“Do the same with the rest. This one’s connected to the bottom part.”

“...What about your… uh…”

“There’s another layer under it, don’t worry,” you assure him. “Why? Is my fierce and scary bodyguard nervous?”

“Don’t even,” he grumbles and your shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

The ruffle of your clothing fills the air as Toji works his fingers through the second set of lace, loosening it and pulling it from your body. You slide your arms from the thin straps of this layer and allow Toji to drag the fabric down. His eyes train on the way it smooths over your frame, a nude colored set revealing as he pulls, pulls, pulls until the fabric is pooling around your ankles.

All that you are covered in now is a hoop cage over your hips and sleeveless underwear the same shade as your skin tone that holds you sinfully tight. Toji’s heart is in his ears and the blood in his body is surging out everywhere, including toward his crotch. He’s biting down on his teeth so hard as he holds your arm and helps you step out of the net like framing for your gown, breaths labored.

Your dazzling (e/c) hues catch his as his hand lingers on your waist and your arm, his figure now before you again. He keeps a tough facial expression, but his eyes yet again give him away as he coolly takes in your body, the way your cleavage pools out of your garments and your skin milks into a breathtaking glow. 

You feel his thumb swipe over the curve of your back, experimentally caressing the space as his other hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder. His thumb touches your chin, reels back hesitantly, then touches again, sliding delicately over your cheek. You welcome the contact, your hands raising to press against his lower abdomen as he lingers over you, so closely, so intimately. You can feel his abdominals, rigid and tense, contract beneath your palms though they are barely touching him, and you look down at how small your fingers look pressing into the wall of his stomach. 

“Doll,” he murmurs, voice gravelly and husky as it breathes out. You hum, lashes fluttering when his hand slides to hold the entire side of your face. He melts before you, your beauty so striking that it almost scares him, and nothing has ever scared Toji Fushiguro before. “You need to get to bed.”

“In a bit,” you mutter, gaze wandering over his lips and back up to his eyes. You sink into him, inching closer until he’s surrounding you, swarming you. “Stand with me like this longer.”

“I can’t stay here much longer. You know that.”

“What I say goes. I say you can.”

“(Y/n).”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head as he looks over your features softly. “I do not care.”

“Well, I do,” he says, brushing a piece of hair gently from your forehead. You lean into his palm, a soft pout on your lips. “I’ve got one job, and that’s to keep you safe, y’understand?”

“And that is all this is?” you murmur, eyes darting over him. “That is the only reason you protect me? Because it is your job?”

He tilts his head slightly, smoothing his hand up and down your spine as you push yourself closer to him. Against his better judgment, against his instincts, he allows you. Even if just for a moment. Even if he never gets to feel you this way again, so plush against him, yearning and wistful.

“You know that ain’t true,” he tells you.

You bring your hands up, smoothing them up to his chest and you coo. “So stay,” you beg. “Please.”

“You’re killin’ me, y’know that?” he exhales, his nose brushing against yours as you close in on him, just centimeters away from his lips. 

He holds you, shares the same breath as you, and in this moment he forgets about the barrier between you. He forgets where he came from, he forgets what your role in this world is, he forgets his duty to you and how complicated it is that it has now molded into some emotional connection. He forgets that you will need to marry one day to continue your legacy, that he himself is not a King nor a man of royalty, that he was born of hate and abandonment while you were born to be something. He forgets, as your warmth consumes him and the taste of you is so close he can smell it, that he could never take your relationship beyond what it already is. That he is not, and never has been, a man made for love yet somehow you have fooled him into believing that he is made for loving you.

“Why are you fighting me,” your eyes close, fingers inching over his shoulders and arms wrapping around his neck.

“‘Cause I can’t let myself do this to ya,” he grumbles.

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions.”

“Do you love me?” 

The question is a heated gasp against his mouth, and Toji, no longer harboring the willpower to push away from you, can only respond honestly.

“Y’know I do.”

Your fingers tangle into his silky black hair and his hand brings your faces together. “Then stay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips feel like a fluff of cloud melting into his, the rich, sugary taste of your mouth clashing into his own. You’re soft against his hard body as you crush into him, swooning and sinking as though you no longer have the strength to stand and he is catching you, bringing you to him as though it is the last time he will ever touch you in such a way, the last time he will ever have the privilege of tasting your sacred mouth.

Toji is a rough man, but he handles you gingerly, gradually as he savors you for everything his life has ever been worth. You overstimulate him with your mind numbing squeezes and the gentle sounds of satisfaction that slip from your throat into his. Toji thinks he can die blissfully happy as he encircles you, ravaging your lips with hard brows and a fuzzy mind. He crowds over you, so tall and big that you have no choice but to succumb to all of him in his embrace. He overpowers you, and you adore it, ruffling messily through his locks as his hands wander your hips generously, appreciatively, lovingly. 

He guides you back, leaning over with his hand firm to your back to ease you onto your bed, lips still locked. His body is thinking for itself as his lips swarm you, tongue gliding into yours and searching every space of your cavern. You arch into him needily, sensually, and Toji pushes further though remaining mindful not to hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. 

Your thighs lift to crowd his torso as he curves down into you, hovering over your gorgeous body. His lips crash into your cheek, over your jaw and down your neck, sliding his tongue hungrily over your skin with heady groans. Your lips part and your head tosses back onto your sheets, hushed gasps and contented sighs spilling from you, and even the noises you make are as angelic as you are. 

His large hand cradles your head as he ducks down to care for your chest, hot lips sucking over your skin like he is enjoying a meal. Your hands tighten in his hair, his mouth easing you into astounding pleasure before his lips are back on yours, more desperate, more lustful. 

“Toj…” you moan and he grunts into you, arms caging you beneath him and lower half pressing into your own. Your blurry eyes peer past strands of his hair as he consumes you, kisses you, worships you. 

“Yeah, darlin,” he exhales into your mouth as your bodies writhe against the barrier of clothing. “Talk t’me. What is it, my girl?”

“Do not… mmm, don’t leave me. Not tonight,” you plead in between weighted kisses.

Toji pulls back to look you in the eyes, hands exploring all over you. “Nothin’ could take me from you now, doll,” he swears, pupils enlarged and shrinking the green expanse of his eyes. “I’ll take good care of ya, promise. I swear on m’life. I got you, baby, I got ya.”

You whimper and his lips find yours again, kissing into you his promise of devotion.

Toji swaddles you with love for hours on end, into the early morning, molding marks of his loyalty over your stomach and down your legs, kissing over your scars, and pulling release after release from your core. He’s tender, firm but soft as he makes love to you and molds the shape of him into your essence. Imprints of your fingernails into his skin and your teeth marks into his shoulder encourage him to drag every moan, every ounce of fluid from your body. And god, you feel better than Toji could have ever envisioned. You’ve ruined him with your passion, with your pretty entranced gazes and your loving kisses, your insatiable need for him to give you more and for yourself to give him more. You’re sweet. So sweet, and Toji loves you more than himself, therefore he promises to give you what you want tonight and to return to his responsibility tomorrow.

It is his duty to you after all, to protect you, to love you from afar.

[randyisrad]

hello shuake nation . i'm here to deliver my goro bpd essay that i promise like 2 months ago .

1) fear of abandonment/drastic efforts to avoid abandonment

I'D LIKE TO START THIS ONE OFF BY . showing examples of him being abandoned. Shido leaving him and his mother before he was born, and it's implied that his mom talked about it like. all the time (also not great for small child !) his mom attempting suicide , and goro being passed between foster homes.

goro goes to the most extreme lengths to prevent being abandoned again . creating an entirely different version of himself to get people to like him, assassinating people at shido's command so he won't toss him aside , and (this one might be a little bit of a stretch) murdering akira . this boy does nawt like being abandoned ! ! !

2) unstable relationships, often switching between idealized and devualued

do i even . need to explain this one . (im going to anyway)

goro's relationship with akira is SO unstable . he cares about him so much and that . really scares him , but hes so unbelievably jealous of him and feels that akiras "better than him" and thinks he pities him so he hates him . he praises him one minute and even if he hates it he genuinely means it , but internally he's terrified of akira looking down at him so he has such an anger towards him . akira is 100% his favorite person and he doesn’t know how to process that so he lashes out . i dont know how to put everything into words but im keeping this one shorter cuz its pretty self explanatory and if i got the chance i would not shut UP about it so

3) unstable identity and sense of self

he literally has 2 personas . one crafted out of lies and images of who he wishes he was, and the other crafted out of the hatred he holds . thats unstable as hell

4) impulsivity in at least 2 areas that are self destructive

went to his dad when he was 16 telling him abt his persona so he could get close enough to ruin him , constantly carrying out hits for shido to get close enough to ruin him , turning himself psychotic with his personas power . the list goes on

5) frequent suicidal ideology/behavior

goro turned himself psychotic , was fully prepared to be killed by the phantom thieves as long as they died with him, had no plan for what would happen after he murdered shido, fully accepted his death in maruki’s reality , etc .

6) emotional instability

he tries to keep a calm demeanor , but due to being neglected in his childhood , goro has no emotional maturity . he’s constantly lashing out , specifically at akira and the other thieves . he has a meltdown in front of them despite being deathly afraid of being vulnerable , and he has a habit of blaming every issue on akira like it’s his fault . this one is also a little bit of a reach , but he shows a bit of his true personality to akira after their rank 8 battle , and tells him he hates him . it doesn’t make a lot of sense for him to tell akira this , especially if he’s trying to keep up the detective prince charade , which he goes back to shortly after this .

7) chronic feelings of emptiness

this one is hard to directly point out , because it isn’t explicitly shown in game , but it’s obvious if you read in between the lines . we don’t know a lot about his childhood besides what he says in the bathhouse , but he seems sort of apathetic and empty about his circumstances .

8) emotional outbursts

this one is really similar to the 6th diagnostic criteria , but once again -- he lashes out at akira and blames him for his situation even if it isn’t his fault , lashes out at the phantom thieves , and has a meltdown in front of them . but i’d specifically like to mention the scene in his bossfight when his charade flickers , and loki is seen for a brief moment . he wasn’t trying to summon loki , but he’s so emotional that he comes out anyway .

9) stress ideation and severe dissociative symptoms

i can’t specifically think of any examples for this but . it’s real in my heart . trust . but if goro has ALLL of the other symptoms , it’s so very likely for him to have this one , too .

and that concludes my goro akechi bpd essay , i hope you enjoyed goro nation . :3

[naamahdarling]

How do you cope with “don’t trust your brain”? I can’t trust it at any time of day, due to the dysthymia.

For me, realizing that it is time-related for me really helped. I learned to identify those feelings in specific because of when they routinely occurred, and am now able to lower their internal priority.

With dysthymia that isn't going to be helpful, though.

But still, some of this probably will be at least a bit useful because the helpful part for me was less the time - that was just the factor that made it easiest to catch. It was mostly that identifying them was the first step. Like that part isn't always easy, the thoughts are REALLY COMPELLING, we assign them high priority because of their strength, so it's hard to say "Wait. These intense feelings I am having are not accurate They are a distortion of the facts. They are based on valid fears. However, the way they are currently all ganging up on me, or feel unusually intense, is not in proportion."

And that's sort of where I am now. Here's some stuff I do.

I respond by gently reminding myself that I have a condition that predisposes me, I tell myself it's okay to have the feelings, and then I say "I am going to do what is best for me in this moment while these thoughts upset me." And that can me hard as hell and I can't always do it. But I am trying and learning.

When I get the three o'clocksies as I call them (my schedule is often twisted around enough that they happen at 3, my equivalent of 8 or 9) I take a short bit to remind myself it's a distorted perception (or sometimes utterly false, like when I get the "everyone hates me"s), I challenge it gently, then try not to give it a chance to respond. I try not to argue with it because that doesn't help. And I just find something else to do or think about.

Maybe I move to something I know I like even if I don't want to, and give it a bit to see if I can switch gears. Maybe I say "well I'm ruined for a while, might as well do something hateful like get some water or gather some trash, or brush my teeth, because if I have to suffer I can at least suffer to make my future self a bit happier." That didn't come easy either. Occupying my hands AND my mind is important. I often can't turn the bad feelings volume down if I don't occupy my mind. Movies don't work, but podcasts/audiobooks and hand crafts or engaging phone games do. I have like sixteen I can choose from. (Your library may have audiobooks to borrow digitally btw. It's very cool.)

I ask for help, I ask for asks here a lot, I have some friends to talk with about fun things, my boyfriend is great. Doing imaginative stuff like discussing silly questions (the gryphon question I just got was like a perfect example, thanks!), what-ifs for our OCs or fanfic, or silly stuff like we watch a ghost hunting show and stop it to ask what we/our imaginary people would do, or a spooky movie or podcast or reality show and we raise a hand at the point where we would nope out. We're watching a cake show and we pause it to say what we would do or what winner we would pick. Having another person is so helpful, but you CAN do this with yourself. Write the answers out longhand or journal them on your phone (Journey app!). I will now often do this WHILE I AM CRYING, guys. It helps. Even if I think it won't. I did it during a goddamn tornado warning where for once it WAS very fucking close. Boyfriend was safe across town, I am unbelievably scared of storms and was in about the scariest one I've been in since a kid, and I was snot-crying on the phone and once we said our I love yous we just talked about stupid OC shit. And by god it got me through.

Reading aloud to my cats has helped before.

Like. Whatever it is that's crawling up your spine. It's so much about saying "look, I feel this way, and it is INTENSE, but I don't have to just sit with it; I can do other stuff WHILE I feel this way, I can engage with things ALSO, I can have other thoughts too." You don't have to end the thoughts by force. You can just let them run and move on as much as possible, think about other things as best you can. And with practice it DOES get easier. It does.

Another thing I have recently discovered is that I need TIME to have emotional reactions. Someone I love said something unintentionally SUPER HURTFUL a while ago, and y'all I was SO ANGRY. SO FURIOUS. And I realized before I could address the situation and tell them they crossed a line, I needed to make room to have this huge emotional response before acting, and they DIDN'T need to be part of that. Even though the intense feelings demanded I act, I didn't. With practice, amazingly, I have learned to give MYSELF the space we all talk about giving others to feel first, solve after. It took practice but I'm there. Once I cooled off, I realized not just why I reacted the way I did (specific past trauma) but why they said what they did (their own past trauma, inappropriately dumping it on me) and was able to talk it over with them in an empathetic way and it all smoothed out, with better boundaries now.

The having the emotional reaction thing may not work in some cases such as repetitive thoughts of, say, trauma, but when there is a precipitating event that just happened or I get blindsided by a trigger, it is really helpful to realize it's a reaction, probably a really understandable one, and I won't feel like this forever.

Also psych meds and specifically mood stabilizers are really great for me. I'm on two, and at first I had some internalized ableist shame around taking them because I didn't like how it implied I was like my toxic mom with her uncontrolled rapid cycling (not why she was toxic, but it made me feel like I was failing at being Not Like Her), but WOW having them has helped. The right meds. It can be hard to get that in place, but I did want to say, it really did help me.

I have also with my therapist built a safe place in my mind. This doesn't have to be boring! I have a floating island with cloud oceans, lovely ruins, amazing wildlife, and a badass wizard lair. And in it is a box for the horrible thoughts I can't deal with right now like the PTSD stuff, so it's contained when I'm not working with it, and a koi pond where I drop these glowing rocks I imagine the scary feelings going into, and then the water cleans them and turns them into pretty stones. Like, this was just stupidly useful and I never thought to do it in a way that wasn't boring before. So I can go there, now, with practice, for a quick visit to drop some bad stuff off. I also visit as I fall asleep and explore, to help make it easier to go there quickly. Doesn't work for everyone, has been good for me. Come to Magic Floating Islands! We have perytons and flying coelacanths!

Anyway, I don't know if that's helpful. Other folks might have ideas. But that is kind of where I'm at. It isn't perfect, doesn't always work, but I'm getting better because it's partially just a skill. You know? You're already a bit ahead of where you were initially, since you know it's a distorted pattern. There was a time before you realized that and it probably sucked even more, and there will be a time after this when you have one or two things to try that will suck a little less. It won't be a hundred percent, but you do move forward a bit at a time.

Hope that helps a little. 💕

[ticklace]

Intro time! Hi friends, I'm Lacey!

Long-time lurker who has finally mustered the courage to join the tickling community officially. Looking forward to making some friends here!

A bit about me... (👇 below the cut 👇)

27F from Southeast USA. She/her 🙂

I like/follow from my main blog, @cozy-clutter-pile (which was originally called ticklace, before I decided I wanted my main blog to focus on multiple topics and split off this side blog for tickling only)

dating the sweetest guy on the planet (read: not looking for romance unless you're @ticklishpirate 😘)

Asexual :) In a perpetual cuddly mood.

Neurodivergent (and how)

Hobbies include crafting, choral singing (what I lack in talent I make up for in devotion), and snuggling my sweet doggo 🥰

Tickle Switch (lee/ler percentages vary wildly, on a person-to-person basis)

Might as well go ahead and add that I'm a huge fan of tummy tickles 😅 it's kinda my specialty lol

I post (tickly) fandom stuff on @cozy-cinnamon-roll! Be advised, it is almost entirely Stardew Valley content right now. 😅 (If you haven't seen me around for a bit on this blog, there's a good chance I'm obsessively posting about something over there... When I hyperfixate, I hyperfixate hard.)

I use tone indicators/tone tags regularly. Personally, I don't mind if other people use them or not (if you don't, I might just ask you to clarify sometimes if it's ambiguous), But I do need people listening to me to be comfy seeing them.

Below are the rules of my realm:

✨This is a trauma-friendly space✨ If you would like me to add content/trigger warnings for anything at all (literally anything), I am more than happy to do so. ❤️

✨This is an LGBTQIA+ friendly space✨ I will block bigots indiscriminately and with relish.

✨This is a chub-friendly space✨ anyone who disrespects my soft friends can get the hell off my dash.

This is a SFW blog. Some content I post might be from blogs that post NSFW content themselves, but you just won't see it here.

This blog is not open to minors. SFW does not automatically mean safe for minors. Ageless and under-18 blogs DNI.

If something I post makes you uncomfy, PLEASE let me know and I will remove it.

And finally, a disclaimer regarding my Lee side:

Lee!Lacey does not appear until I know you well enough to trust you. Do NOT send me lee-oriented teases/messages/asks unless we've discussed it ahead of time, or (preferably) you've asked me directly if it's okay.

I have a lot of quirky boundaries and past trauma related to being tickled, so direct communication and discussion of those boundaries is REQUIRED before any lee!Lacey interaction can happen.

I'm always open to new friends! I will warn you I find it much quicker to interact via comments, asks, and posts rather than DMs, since extended one-on-one conversations in text tend to be very draining on me for some reason.* So I tend to be a bit of a slow reply-er... but if you're down for DM chat at the speed of snail mail, I'm your gal 🐌 🐌 🐌

*that reason is that I am far more accustomed to being the roomba friend puttering around in the background than an actual Conversational Being. And I tend to use up all my Conversational Being Imitation juice in real life.

[gloopytits-chaosmod]

it wont matter how great you make a thing, people who see art as a productive force will always judge you for how well your life fits into an office environment you're not even working in. like the act of work is so worthless you gotta make up reasons to be upset at people as if mild pressure from the guy above the guy above suddenly promotes you to "middle manager of the internet people"

i can't see myself working with office people for this reason. im sure it feels great to publish but like graduation and childbirth it feels like a moment you build up to in order to alleviate the pains of abiding by the system that creates its conditions.

like think about it: authors are okay with publishing. it's a given they'd want to publish because in their craft they are labourer first, craftsmen second. Writing is an all consuming profession that as a protocol wants to create as much writing as possible. Through the lens of laymen lithit, authors are recognized by their extensive bibliographies and not by individual works because a subjective categorization system that'd acknowledge the art isn't compatible with a complete system of categorization when the end product is something acceptable to the vibes in the room.

When authors fight and wrestle a literal industry of money bags and their middle managers and their legalese translators how much of that effort build a foundation that whatever comes after was worth the time and effort and retroactively paints the "bumpy road" authors survive through as a path up in some immeasurable quantity of success even if it was just a path forwards in time?

What gets me about these questions is the paranoia I come to regard my fellow writers with. Why should someone on the outside looking in believe there is a balance between supporting existing power and getting the bag? Arguments could be made about "holding the door open", but what does that do? I think it feels good to think about a philanthropic gesture and we focus on that feeling of the possibility of goodness and we ignore that any radical voice would still be watered down to hell and that "risky and radical" projects that "indie houses" are taking "chances" on are still selected by the projected capacity for that work to keep the lights on.

Where does that leave any radical project? Can radicalism exist in a world where there is no basis for self-rejection, for stepping out of the grindset and judging what you've become? "It's better than nothing" is all it boils down to, but there's no capacity for the creation of radical art when opinions like this are actively argued against by people who see that tiny crack in the door and got their eyes fixed on it. I mean I'm not hating on anyone who gets the bag but I think there's a violation against the medium itself for it to only be discussed through a lens that is friendly to Capital and copyright and yadda yadda. Small artists LOVE capitalism. And after all, why wouldn't they? Do you get paid being a downer?

Nobody gets paid being a downer. You gotta choose to be a downer, that's my superpower. You choose positive positive and then you'll be pickme'd by the algo or some dutch broad with 1.5k followers as long as you give out the vibe of someone who is compatible with an office environment. There are no friendships or comradery in here if the conditions of art involve 1 person and 10 others contractually obligated to review. Yes, the process makes good art, great art even, but it creates a soulless forum where everyone is arguing against their self interest in building independence from the incentives.

"I got rent next month! I got family to feed! People depends on my income. These are just idealist ideas not coherent plans for what YOU'RE going to be doing. It's unfair to say we are arguing against incentives when we are doing what makes sense in our current conditions."

I know what I'm going to be doing. I want to make my art. Not great art, or even good art, just my art. I've rambled on my perspectives because I find them increasingly uncommon in a very corporate digital environment. and I'm not reading medium articles fuck that. They got guilds and stuff now! You can self publish but the top spots appear reserved for people who are signed with a publishing house IT JUST KEEPS HAPPENING WAAAAH i was gonna fact check this but the sign is now locked behind login? i guess?

A society of evil is made through the virtual happiness. An untainted happiness that cannot be smeared by human imperfections or a refusal to feel joy when it knows of indignities committed in her name. This intelligence exists because everyone believes they are doing their best with what they are. They were. The current state of affairs is hundreds of millions of people over centuries doing their best and a handful of white guys in offices at random times undoing that work periodically as a heart pumps. Those guys only stayed there because even at the height of enslavement nobody with arms reach shot to power recognized what they were doing as evil. The same way indignities were codified through law and underclasses were created by warping biological facts and historical myth to fit the notions of what "felt right", we continue this tradition of mythmaking to paint the pointless suffering our existence leaves behind as somehow good, as somehow contributing, as somehow spiritual, all while praying whatever poison lies at the bottom of the pond doesn't clasp its maws around your neck as you bend down for a gulp of fresh dharma mmmm yum yum. What we leave behind is already clear to me: a soup that can tell any story we like. Authors defined by their bibliographies and not what they said. Corporate fluff pieces and twitter threads.

What we leave behind is an untainted happiness that cannot be smeared by human imperfections or a refusal to feel joy when it knows of indignities committed in her name. It exists because everyone had a really good idea of what they should be doing, and they did it, so the only ones left to tell you what happened will tell you that their lives was good. Perfect. Like everything that existed, like everything that ends.

[sketchfanda]

Kirishima’s Mystique:Ayanami’s Riot

It’s a known fact for some that the man called All for One was an absolute bastard. A generally vile, heinous piece of shit who seemed to go out his way to think the world and life was a comic book that existed to cater to his grand design as some Demon King. So of course his array of petty and vile actions often involved atrocities such as illegal scientific experiments whose very purposes and intentions were nothing short of basically spitting in God's face and pissing in his garden. Among those being the art of cloning with the intent to craft spare bodies, now you might be asking what does this have to do in terms of context?

Allow me to introduce you all to one such clone, a pretty little thing to say the least, known as Rei Ayanami. That was the name she'd been designated with from her particular test tube conception, as well as that of her fellow clones or sisters who'd been discarded as AfO didn't see any rhyme or reason to needing a female body, nevermind how and why they all developed female. Far as the so called demon king of villainy was concerned, they were just Nomu who'd be good for little more than well.....whatever any of his cannon fodder underlings could think of to do with them. Not that they got far enough to do that when naturally in came some pros busting in on their lab with a raid!!

It had all gone by in a blur but for the peculiar hivemind of clone girls, they seemed to now no longer find themselves as disposable assets but rather recognized as sapient beings with sentience, will and citizenship. Seems having an array of identical young girls made for great spaces to fill in the work force, for every office building a pretty face for a secretary or personal assistant, a waitress in a diner, any and every need possible. It helped that each Rei was pretty adaptable but some of their caretakers wondered a few things about them. That being why in the hell were they so goddamn sexy?!

Researchers had yet to determine the exact cause to how and why but the Reis all seemed to have a habit for physically developing into bombshells with looks that put pornstars to shame. I'm talking more curves than a freeway, thick and I mean THICC sexy cuties with voluptuous booties, the flexibility of Cirque de Soleil contortionist acrobats and legs that truly brought a classic ZZ top song to mind. Tits just ideal in firmness and softness that those meatbuns just called to have a skilled hand touch them, the muscle tone of an olympic swimmer and the exotic albino-esque appearance. All this and more made for a package that could only be called a walking sex bomb.

Yet just as much a mystery was that not one of the Ayanami swarm had yet to report or experience any encounter in terms of sexual activity, could be that maybe their quiet, often cold stoic looking personalities were off putting. Or that some were worried about whether or not they'd be willing to consent or if they were risking sexual harassment but all things considered, these girls were about as chaste as nuns. That was until a recent development of course occurred at UA University. According to a field report from one of the key handlers, Nemuri Kayama, aka the Rated R heroine Ms.Midnight who was shall we say quite explicitly graphic and detailed in regards to this development she witnessed by chance first hand.

It had all happened seemingly innocent enough as the Rei assigned to campus as her teaching assistant had seemed to, at least in her opinion, develop an interest or perhaps even a romantic if not sexual attraction towards one of her students. That being one Eijiro Kirishima, aka Red Riot, much to her delight, as the cute often seemingly mute homonculus girl would gaze at him silently with those ruby red eyes of hers. Seeming to especially take interest in whenever he was interacting with his girlfriends Mina and Maya such as holding hands or the brief little private moments they’d be making out, observing with almost voyeuristic curiosity. Or seeming to snap pictures of him on her phone when she’d catch him jogging by on a morning run or working out on the campus gym.

what follows of course in Midnight’s report could be considered overly graphic snd explicit in her descriptions and observations of her young charge and her sexual awakening. Snippets of psych profiles detailing numerous pornographic websites frequented by the albino mutant nomu, a collection of the pictures she had of Kirishima especially shirtless to which there were videos and photoes of her masturbating to them. As well as some peculiar documentation involving sexual education from the Rated R heroine herself and records of what had seemed to be a back and forth text chat with Mina and Maya, codenames Pinky and Mystique. To say that the HPS bureaucrats who had to read and check this report over had issues was an understatement .

But then of course the report went on to highlight how Rei’s behaviour had seemingly developed, wearing outfits intentionally a few sizes too small for her voluptuous frame or designed to highlight her sexiness to seeming to be more direct in approaching and socially interacting with Kirishima. Making small talk, one sided as it could seem but the hardheaded redhead was shown to do enough talking for both of them as well talk enough on the exotic girl’s body language in spite of her seemingly limited vocabulary. Then of course came the first act of sexual intimacy between the two according to a voyeuristic first hand account from Midnight as she had witnessed it in secret. Nobody wanted to ask exactly how and why she was there, quite frankly you’d be hard pressed to get an answer from her.

Apparently it had all begun playing out like an atypical scenario from a porn video, as the albino TA had the himbo stay with her after class, locking the doors as she immediately pressed herself to him, squirming in his firm embrace as they pressed their lips together in a heated, sloppy kiss. Their hands proceeding to remove one another’s clothing as their tongues danced together, Rei’s quiet but deep throated moans melodic and beautiful as she felt the object of he newly discovered sexual fantasies explore and caress her body. Her own hands relishing the firmness and heat of his muscular form as she kissed and licked her way down his torso, kneeling down to face his crotch. Looking at his cock and balls in awe as she grasped and started to stroke it, trembling with anticipation and arousal as her pussy gushed and dribbled with desire and need.

Midnight let out no detail of this illicit liaison, her vivid praise of Rei’s enthusiastic fellatio sounding like a critic praising a major award winning performance in how her charge sucked and blew on Kirishima’s cock. Let alone the himbo’s sexual experience ensuring the albino nomu girl’s world was rocked as he fucked her just about any and everywhere they could in that classroom. Rei seeming become devoted him with every orgasm he assaulted her with as if she were a bitch in heat being claimed by the alpha male she had courted with the results she had been hoping for. Her moans and gasps of pleasure often mixed in with her soft cries of his name with a tone of need and desire like she was becoming a junkie.

That being the cas, it eas all no small wonder that the first time would lead to several more interactions and encounters of a sexual nature and variety between the two. Midnight’s report a pornographic treasure trove of texts like out of a porn book to pictures and videos enough to stock pile an onlyfans profile. From the pair rutting in a beach shower cubicle to a secret late night skinny dipping romp in the campus rooftop swimming pool. Secret blowjobs, private cosplay roleplays and that was just one on one of course. It only escalated once Mina and Maya got into the equation.

One could almost swear Midnight wasn’t exactly being subtle in hiding the fact she wasn’t secret about her acquiring her a evidence. The fact she was in some of the pictures and videos herself made that very clear to say nothing of other women involved such as the Hawaiian gaijin lifeguard at the local community swimming pool or the skater girl gaijin general course transfer student. But most peculiar was that the more Rei interacted with Kirishima sexually, the more it seemed not omly like she got more closer with him intimately but something else occured. A sort of strange synchronicity among her fellow clone sisters.

Reports from the handlers and observers of the Rei found that not long after Kirishima’s regular erotic trysts, they all began exhibiting changes in their behaviour and personality. Dressing in the same casually sexy, erotic manner, outright courting attention for erotic intimacy but most of all? They all seemed to share the same romantic lust for him, as if linked by a hive mind of raw, primal desire. Scrapbooks filled with pictures of the red riot, sketchbooks of which many anatomical artist nude drawings were among them, even journals detailing sexual fantasies!! No one was sure what to make of it to say the least.

Let alone when the Rei who started it all set up her own OnlyHeroes profile account, filled with a library of not only her sex live with Kirishima and the women in his life. But also those of her clone sisters, as if being a literal one woman harem army for the Red Riot hero. From pseudo twins performing tandem blowjobs to videos of to roleplays involving step siblings, that was just the tip of the iceberg. As if Rei was wanting to show off and highlight the stud thst she and hers had all come to think of as their sex god.

Observations continue to be reported in regards to the Reis and their adaptation to regular society but extra careful has been noted to maintain vigilance in regard to this peculiar sexual behaviour. As well as whether or not any children that may be conceived by the Rei from their constant copulation with Kirishima. Who knows what next generation army may come about. And does this hive kind behaviour also include and extend to the Reis still in their tanks…..

[neoyi]

We've reached a point in our lives where nostalgic bait is at an all-time high. From the thousands of reboots; remakes; and sequels to beloved cult classics from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, it is shameful how many of these we have, all varying in terms of quality and almost always with the intent to pocket money off of us peons.

What can I say? We were desperate for anything because we hardly ever got anything back then.

Even the darling favorite of many a fandom back in the mid-2000s, Avatar: The Last Airbender, was hurting for merch back in the days. And Danny Phantom's was practically non-existent. It is astonishing this comic exists, but not at all surprising because now, Nickelodeon knows to cash in on the products that fans have carried a torch for decades later.

I'm sounding really cynical here, I know. And while Ol' Nicky is seeing dollar signs, it is worth noting A Glitch in Time was clearly made with the most utmost love and respect for the show. Gabriela Epstein gave so much of a damn crafting this near 200-page behemoth, covering almost 90% of the hanging plot points the show never got the time to answer and simultaneously wiping off the backwards series finale that left a bad taste in a lot of people's mouth.

Like altogether, this comic explored Danny's story and what his purpose is post-"PP", Vlad's redemption arc, Pariah King's artifacts (and why Vlad was collecting them), and Dark Danny's return, all while working around a plausible narrative that retooled "PP" using time manipulation and newfound lore. And it's amazing how seamless it flows.

This comic isn't just incredible, it's a miracle.

And in spite of all that, the author still had the balls to leave some of the dangling plot threads and character arcs unfinished for a potential sequel hook, as if they knew this comic would sell enough to justify one.

Well, as of this writing, this motherfucker is still the #1 top seller in Amazon's all-age for graphic novels. Fool on me to rely purely on that hell site's sale counts to accurately know how well it did, but I imagine that's pretty damn good. If you had told me years ago anything DP-related beyond lame ass Box Lunch shirts would officially come out of the woodwork, I would have laughed. That the possibility of a second comic book seem plausible would be chuckly-worthy, but now... damn, I think it genuinely could happen.

And I hope it does, because A Glitch in Time still finishes with a couple of snags left to untangle.

The first major incident is the controversial matter of a one Miss Danielle Phantom. Now that Vlad has been given a second chance to raise a child, and do it right this time, what does that mean for Danny's clone? How will she feel knowing Vlad has changed? Or that he has a son? Would he have been a better father by the time she flies back to Amity Park? What has this kid been up to in the few years since "PP?" How would Danielle feel when she reunites with a Vlad that looks to be genuinely trying? Distrustful on his true intention? Angry that this man had the gull to change? Jealous that Dark Danny had Vlad's unconditional love when his fatherly affection is all Danielle ever wanted?

Dani is never mentioned at any point in the comic, with any hints that she still exists the Danny clones lingering in Vlad's secret base. I understand why she wouldn't be relevant for this comic. Dark Danny, for one, is such a huge entity that an entire spotlight dedicated to him and him alone would be worthy of a full graphic novel. But Dani's existence, her dilemma as a lone wanderer with only a distant relationship with Danny, and the unresolved tension between her and Vlad means her story is worthy of a full comic, too.

Now that Vlad is on the path of redemption with promises to be a better person and a father, his relationship with Danielle is going to invite a lot of questions, conflicts, and hurt feelings before it presumably and hopefully treads into happier paths. And Danny is likely gonna be stuck playing the awkward monkey-in-the-middle family member in all this. But damn, the setup is there.

The other Big Huge Plot left is Valerie.

In her last major role prior to this comic, Valerie was confronted with a moral dilemma: will she take the life of a human if said human is a half-ghost? Danny, in desperation, had to confess to Valerie that Dani is a half-ghost, meaning Valerie would have the blood of an actual mortal on her hands should she kill her.

And mind, this was the best Danny could do. We've seen that ghosts in DP are their own species with their own (dead) lives and free will. I'm not sure if Valerie has killed any ghosts or if she's just thermos'ed them back into the Ghost Zone, but her unscrupulous and, by the end of the show, downright brutal nature, seem to imply if she hadn't already murdered any ghosts, then she's more than willing to should the issue arise.

And so we have Val in A Glitch in Time, still doing her ghost hunting thing (her father hasn't been seen since season two, is he okay with her doing this or is she hunting ghosts regardless of any concerns he might have), a job I'm sure she's positively thriving in now that Amity Park is gung-ho for some ghostbustin'.

Indeed, though she's not as prominent as the main trio and Vlad, Valerie gets enough time in the spotlight to meet Dark Danny. In a particularly brilliant callback, she gets a couple of one-on-one battles with Dark Danny, with both the tone and even color scheme echoing so much of what her alternate, older counterpart has countered with Dark Danny from that timeline.

And I'm sure Dark Danny is just thrilled at the deja vu.

The damning part is how Valerie reacts when she realizes Dark Danny is, well, Danny.

Keep in mind, this is post-"Phantom Planet." This is post-Valerie has known Danny Phantom is Fenton. She says this after knowing the town's hero was a fellow student she once liked and dated, and whom she nearly gave up her ghost hunting career for.

Yeah.

This has implication.

Valerie's first reaction to meeting a future Dark Danny is to straight up tell him, "you're evil." Is that how she felt about Danny Fenton after "Phantom Planet?" Did she feel betrayed that the boy she fell for was secretly half-ghost? Did she feel manipulated into saving Dani? Given the exceptional story Gabriela Epstein has expertly crafted, this one piece of dialogue cannot, under any circumstances, be accidental.

Valerie saying this straight up to Danny fuckin' Fenton after everything that has transpired is one of the biggest bomb drops in A Glitch in Time.

The end of the comic implies she remembers the old timeline, meaning she's still aware of Fenton as Phantom. The tragedy of her character is that Valerie has always been strictly one-minded in her goal. Her downright hatred for ghosts and the absolute destruction of Amity Park before Clockwork fixed everything means in her eyes, she has justifiable cause to kill Danny Fenton. The current Danny Fenton. After all, if he is capable of turning into Dark Danny, then why shouldn't she get rid of him before it's too late?

Valerie is also intricately connected to Dani through "D-Stabilized", meaning there could be a way to tie all of these into another Big Damn Comic Book down the line. And while I had problems with how Valerie's dialogue was written in that episode (sounding deviously supervillainy as oppose to her feeling like her actions are justified), having her as the central villain in the next book sounds about right.

I've always been opposed to the idea of Valerie being an outright baddie (as oppose to a just being a dangerous obstacle), but the potential dynamic and high stakes tension for her to be the biggest obstacle to Danny, Dani, and Vlad (since she also knows what the latter is, too) in her pursuit to kill all ghosts and protect her home has nuances and character exploration that I think Gabriela Epstein is more than capable of dissecting.

Whatever the outcome may be, should another DP graphic novel come to light, I, for once in so many, many, many years, look forward to it.

[firelord-frowny]

lame feels

not meeeeeeeeeee watching chloeXhalle videos and almost crying with jealousyyyy bc its hard for me not to see them as an example of the success that can be achieved by talented people when they have a network of people who actually want to support them in reaching their goals lmaoooo

they, particularly, stir up envy/self pity in me because i feel like i even resemble them physically??? i mean not in a way where someone might say i'm a ~look alike,~ but the general features are of a similar variety??? wide, slanted eyes on an alien-shaped face. same skin tone. well-defined lips, full cheeks, tiny chin.

and they didn't just materialize into fame and recognition by the sheer magnitude of their talent.

everybody who ever gets anywhere doing anything, at some point along the way, had PEOPLE! People who helped. People who freely gave their time and energy. People who took chances. People who gave something valuable that they had to offer, knowing and accepting that they may never get anything in particular in exchange.

i don't care what anyone says - personal hard work and dedication are obviously prerequisites for any kind of journey from nobodiness to success. But if absolutely 0 people that they ever encounter go out of their way to open a door, you aint achieving shit. Even in a case where somebody gets overlooked and turned away again and again and again and again, your eventual success is still only realized when someone FINALLY decides that you're deserving of the resources they have.

And I look at all these successful people that I've admired over the years, and I learn about their pasts, and about how so-and-so took a chance on them, or their whole family moved to a new state or even a new country so they could more easily access the things that will help them achieve their goals, or their moms flew them all around the country for auditions, or arranged for them to be homeschooled so they could focus on honing their crafts and have more time to pursue opportunities, blah blah...

someone important in your life, before you had the wisdom or the power or the funds to do things on your own, made the decision that your aspirations were more important than their convenience. Someone had to think that you were worth investing in. Someone had to believe that by helping you succeed, they succeed, too.

my parents sent me to one single orchestral festival when I was 15 and it cost them $6,000 and they have not let me live it down ever since. they drove me once a week to a violin lesson 35 minutes away and STILL complain about how much gas it took to get there and back. Each and every time they attended any of my performances, they didn't gush over how well I did or how proud they were during our drive home. No - they tallied up how much time they "lost" out of their day because of me. "It took us an hour to get ready, then another hour to drive out here. So that's already two hours. Then the performance started late, so that's an extra twenty minutes. The concert itself was an hour and a half, so now that's about four hours. Then it took you 10 whole minutes to come out from backstage and get ready to get in the car. And now there's traffic on the way home. So that's over five hours we just spent on you today. And you only played for six and a half minutes."

?????????????????? sorry???????????? i'm a Serious Musician studying music seriously. i have auditions. i have performances. I just DO. Why the whole helling fuck are you tallying up the time you've ~had~ to spend on the pursuit of my goals like it's something I DID to you?? Like you'd rather be doing anything else on earth besides nurturing the growth of the child you had on purpose? Like your world would be so much more peaceful if I was a pet rock instead of a gifted human being.

and god, for my whole entire life - truly, my ENTIRE life until this day - they love, love, LOVE to tell me how ~ungrateful~ they think I am.

I'M SORRY???? what the hell else do you want me to do or say??? What was I supposed to do on the way home from an audition or a performance other than smile and hug you and say thank you? I asked for literally nothing. I wasn't a greedy kid. I didn't demand new shoes or beg for video games. I didn't ask to go to parties. I didn't ask for money. I wasn't bratty. And when I was told 'no' regarding the few sorts of things I DID ask for, I didn't throw a fit over it. I didn't even ask to be taken to all these auditions and performances! I didn't throw tantrums when I didn't get my way. I didn't beg for things they couldn't afford. I didn't accuse them of being shitty parents if they didn't provide every itty bitty thing I wanted. I was such a normal kid. With a normal amount of needs that required a normal amount of my parents time and money. i still don't know what the hell kind of ~gratitude~ they're looking for. I ask them and they can't even tell me. the most they'll ever say is "well! you need to help out more!"

"ok, with what?"

"just help out more!"

"WITH? WHAT?"

"You need to contribute!"

CONTRIBUTE TO WHAT??? HELP WITH WHAT??? GIVE ME A FUCKING LIST! DRAW UP AN ITINERARY! A CONTRACT! A DEMAND LETTER! TELL ME A TASK! DESCRIBE A SPECIFIC PHYSICAL ACTION THAT WOULD DEMONSTRATE TO YOU THAT I APPRECIATE THE THINGS YOU PROVIDE!!! TELL ME WHAT YOUR CURRENCY IS!!!!

"you're not a giver! you're just a taker!"

ok well you know what i have to give???

The Fuck Up.

i give the fuck up! i give up! i give up! i give up trying to convince you that the success and eventual independence of your kid is its own reward. i give up trying to figure out what it is that i'm not doing that, if i did it, would inspire you to support me without reminding me of all the time and money you've lost just so I could have a chance to get good at something that would someday turn me into a functioning adult who would be able to thank you years later by taking good care of you when you're too old to take care of yourselves.

I don't know what the hell else you wanted from me at 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18. I know that now, at 30, I should finally HAVE something that i could give back, but i don't, and the real fucking truth at the root is that that's more YOUR fault than it is mine. Granted, it's my responsibility to fix it now, and it's my job to give myself what I didn't get before, and each and every coming day that I spend doing something other than nurturing my own growth is on me, and if I never ever ever get anything I want in my life, that will be 100% my fault.

But I didn't grow myself up into this person. I didn't behave my own way into feeling so worthless.

you plant a goddamn cherry blossom in eight inches of clay and then water it with gasoline and light it on fire and then scold it for not growing. what a joke.

i'm trying so so so so so so so hard to make myself believe the truth that I AM worth investing in. I AM worth partnering with. But I swear to fucking god - legit, no exaggeration, no hyperbole - if I even think too hard about involving anyone else in the pursuit of my goals in any way, shape, or form, i burst into tears. guilt, anger, grief. blunt-force agony of utter embarrassment.

why would anyone want to start a string quartet with me? why would anyone want to co-author/illustrate children's books with me? why would anyone in any position of authority want to spare a few minutes to discuss a business proposal with me? why would anyone believe that my talent could bring value to their preexisting projects? why would someone even look at me when they could watch paint dry instead?

what a fucking MONUMENT i could have been by now if anyone ever cared enough to set me up for success back when it was their job to do so. god, the CONFIDENCE i could have grown into if, back when it mattered, the influential people in my life treated me like I was worth their time. if anyone had ever expressed joy and pride when I succeeded at anything. if anyone had ever done or said anything to make me feel like they enjoyed watching me be good at something.

But why shower your intellectually and artistically gifted child with encouragement and help put them in a position to keep reaching new heights when instead you can fucking hit them for missing the bus and failing a math test lmao amirite?

i look at somebody successful who has anything in common with me and my heart fucking SHATTERS because they were worthy enough for someone to go above and beyond for, and I wasn't. Somebody was proud to help them succeed. my people were never even glad to help me get by, let alone flourish.

i swear im trying to do it for myself now but it is SO HARD to see through this fog.

[devinox-art]

I'm sure everyone has written a BG3 Tiefling Party fanfic by now. If you enjoy them, you can find yet another one under the cut.

If you say please.

Of course saving a bunch of tieflings meant crowd work for Astarion; the poor bastards were under the impression he did it out of the goodness of his unbeating heart, and not because he was given very little choice by their oh so gracious... Well, as much as he was loathed to admit it, Velvari was their leader. Despite not having a single thing in that head of hers besides a mind flaying parasite, she still felt some sort of kinship with the merry band of tieflings, who were on the verge of being left at the mercy of goblins. The moment she decided they were going to offer aid there was no room for questions. Ugh. But no one else was grabbing the reins to steer this wreck of a group. Too caught up in their own personal shit to do so, he supposed, so off to save the day they all went. 

Which was how he found himself smiling out of reflex and saying whatever it was his small audience needed to hear to allow for quick departure. They offered him a bottle of wine and he took it with charm before he bade them his ados.

"I trudged through goblin filth up to my elbows and this is all I get for my trouble? A pat on the head and vinegar for wine?" he grumbled, the moment he was out of earshot to do so. He uncorked the bottle and made his way back to his tent, but before he could indulge in giving himself something else to complain about, it slipped through his fingers in one smooth action that completely took him off guard. 

His red eyes flicked up to the culprit, a tiefling with otherworldly dark skin that blended in shadows and an obsession with the color gold. A color choice that matched her eyes: golden irises piecing the blackness of her sclera. With the way they caught the fires that lit up the night for them, they almost appeared to glow. Perhaps they did. 

Was this the last thing the poor bard girl saw before she was torn into? Flashes of liquid gold as the claws of hell tore her flesh asunder? He didn't care of course. In fact, the subtle air of guilt she carried around her the morning after made the situation amusing. As long as that aggression wasn't turned on him it was something he could perhaps use in his favor. In fact, it was rather impressive how well she hid the body. If he hadn't smelled freshly spilled blood in the air maybe he too would have been none the wiser. It made him think. How quickly could she make any one of them disappear without a trace?

Velvari tilted her head back to take a swig while Astarion watched on, unimpressed. She  carried herself with proper posture, one arm folded neatly behind her back like a war general. When she walked it was with a confident swagger and when she talked it was with authority. Yet he seen her persuade people where she could have easily intimidated — and it would have made it all the easier if she did. All of this crafted an image that seemed to appeal, one way or another, to the damned and fraying souls he found himself in company. Even the Githyanki held some grudging respect for her. But Astarion? No, if Cazador wasn't a looming figure over his life, he would've been out of here the first chance he got. 

As of right now, this misfit group was the only protection he had on hand. An uneasy alliance but one all the same. 

"You did a good thing. Suck it up and enjoy yourself," she said, licking wine off her gold painted lips. She must have overheard his griping.

Astarion gaped at her. "Enjoy myself? I have a blasted parasite in my head and a–" One of his flailing hands was caught and his fingers were made to curl around the neck of a bottle.

"It's rich, dry, and sharp," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm sure someone with your expensive taste could appreciate such depth of flavor."

Oh please. If it wasn't blood he didn't want it. If it wasn't her blood... He looked between her and the bottle of wine she put in his hand. "Is this your way of telling me to enjoy the little things?"

"More or less," she said with soft laugh, and dropped her hands away from his. Her warmth lingered on his pale skin. 

He huffed in disbelief. "I just want a little more excitement! A little more... fun. Is that really too much to ask?" 

"In regards to you? Perhaps."

"Oh don't be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone." As he spoke, he looked her over. She wasn't even bad looking. Her black leather top cupped her breasts perfectly, and the deep, plunging neckline showed them off in a way that was mouthwatering. The bumps and ridges between them were on full display as well, like thorns, as if to say look but don't touch. She was sharp all over. It didn't dissuade him in the least; however, he needed to ensure he had an ally in this massive cluster fuck and if it took seduction to secure her then so be it. He's done worse for poorer reasons. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little closer, so to speak."

Her long, fleshy tail gave a twitch, but whatever that meant her expression wasn't giving it away. "Maybe. If you say please." 

"What?" Astarion asked with a humorless laugh. It was almost enough to make him retract his proposition. No, he can handle power trips. He can go through the motions of being desirable and he wouldn't even have to be mentally present. He did it so many times before. He was just that good. 

Leaves rustled under her boot as she took a step closer to him. She seemed taller than she actually was but in reality, she was no taller than him. The torch behind her head lit up her orange and yellow hair in such a way that almost made it look ablaze. "Say please," she said, so softly it caught him off guard. It wasn't a command. It wasn't playful either. He didn't know what to make of it, and he would be lying if he said her tone didn't pique his curiosity.

"Please," he said with a purr.

She ran a hand over his chest and shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt she felt her warmth. She may not have an infernal engine chugging away in her ribs but she ran hot nonetheless. Her gaze was turned away from him, as if suddenly shy. No, that wasn't it. He saw her do this before, but with animals she wanted to gain the trust of. Astarion's lips parted, bottle of wine lowered and forgotten. 

"I... like being manhandled," she confessed. 

He wanted to laugh. Not a power trip at all. Even if he didn't quite understand what this song and dance was, he started to understand the jist of it. Their gracious leader wanted someone else to take charge in the bedroom. He knew the type. He leaned into her, a hand reaching up to touch her elbow, and he murmured into her ear. "Oh darling, I'll take good care of you. No need to worry your pretty little head over the details." When her eyes met his, he expected heat. Lust. A flirty smile even. Instead what he saw was an emotion he couldn't discern. Behind her, her tail jerked to and fro. Not quite a wag. 

"You can bite me too." That's what made Astarion realize she wanted to discuss this, and what she was doing now? Gouging how receptive he would be. Oh, she was not going to make this as easy as falling into eachothers arms, was she? More than likely also the type that needed to be engaged mentally. 

Weariness started to rear up. "With no tricky strings attached?" He asked. 

She nodded. "No strings attached."

"Then I'll bite," he said with a grin, pun fully intended. "I'll be seeing you later." When she stepped away from him, a flirty little smirk twisted her lips this time and Astarion couldn't help but feel like he won. She dragged her hand away as if reluctant to let go, and he let her. 

Success. 

[grabyourpillow]

So. American gods.

Season 2 and most of the time I'm still like "I have abso-fucking-lutely no idea what any of you people want or what is happening right now or even who you people are.

Summary

What I can say is, every culture that ever set foot in America brought their gods with them. But as a new age rises upon mankind, dominated by non-believers and technology, a new kind of gods threatens the existence of the Old. Will they have it? Or will there be war. And this is already saying... Too much imo.

The characters

So there is our protagonist:

Shadow Moon. What a name. I like him. He gets thrown into a weirdness one could not possibly comprehend and he's like "what the FUCK. Aight I'm intrigued let's keep going" and plays checkers with a dude might-be-a-god but who definitely wants to explode Shadow's brains with a hammer. You go king.

Laura Moon.

Don't worry about her she's fine. Just dead. but fine, except for the smell and the maggots maybe. She is the most ???? Character. Completely unhinged. I love her. She wants blood, and violence. Now she's got superhuman strength. Stomped on a guy's head.

This guy:

A fucking delight of a Leprechaun who swears a lot and drinks a lot and is pissed all the fucking time and gambled his lucky coin away. That is now keeping Laura alive so he has to be with her at all time, for a coin must be given. What a charm (sarcasm) of a guy. Still like him.

What a goddess. What a queen. Has kissed probably every Character in the show(I'm so jealous).

A god from Ghana, shipped to America on the same ship as his people. If I had to pick a fave— let's just say, he'd have good chances. He is well dressed, he is funny as hell, and he is pissed. Rightfully so.

Ilhim so he gets a second picture

This is Salim. Salim is just a nice, guy, He deserves the best. He's looking for the guy he fell in love with. Hope it works out.

One of the new gods. The most insufferable motherfucker you've ever seen in your life. And that's before you've heard him talk. He's pathetic and arrogant, and literally no one respects him. Why do I like him. He has the babygirliest most obnoxious outfits, and his only friend has forgotten him. It's like... Pat pat Cry me a river babygirl but also fucking calm down and have some motherfucking respect.

I've only had this genderfluid native American Person for a day and a half but if anything happened to him/her I would kill everything in the room and then meself.

This is Wednesday. Let's just say. He is behind, a lot of things. Manipulative motherfucker but you'd never know it until you've known him for long enough. He pisses on the tree of life. He has no care in the world. For some reason he needs Shadow Moon.

The show

It's like. Nothing (narratively) is served to you on a silver platter. Stories are told to you, and you have no idea why. You have absolutely no idea at the beginning of a story what it's about, or even if it's important or necessary to the story, or why it's told to you.

(of course it is, but sometimes you don't make the connection until much, much later).

You have no idea who the main character is until like. Mid season 2.

Each time a new episode begins, I checked if I hadn't missed one because the characters are suddenly not where you left them with no explanation whatsoever.

The characters do things and you're like "????" Why tf did you do that? I don't get it? What is the purpose? What is the coherence with your personality or your narrative arc?

But it's just life isn't it? Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes you act on impulse. And it does make sense actually. Only in retrospect.

It's great to see in comparison to the sandman where everything is crafted, every story pulled by the strings of Dream's narration. Here it's just, a mess. A chaos, mingling of feelings, personalities, aspirations, gods from different countries, overlapping stories. And from that chaotic meeting of loose parts emerges the story.

And it's also great to watch in a context where, everything has to be attention grabbing in the first 10 seconds or it's dismissed. Here the story is asking you to trust it. To not seek purpose or quick entertainment but to immerse yourself and just, listen.

I'm not finished yet but I can already sense that it's the kind of work you can rewatch and it's completely different the second time around.

And of course throw in there some "fucking hell this line came into my house through the window, punched me in the face and turned my whole worldview upside down", some beautiful, beautiful cinematic shots, an equal treatment of characters no matter their gender or skin color, and underlying themes and you've got another great work of Neil Gaiman.

[bitacrytic]

How do people Stan another person? Like I am very confused you know. When I see apo Stans or mile Stans or bible Stans or other such fandoms I get very confused. How do we as a person love another person so much when we don't even know them. Like I don't get how people get involved in Selena Gomez vs Haley bieber fights. I don't know how the whole kpop fandom functions. I don't know if this happens with sportsmen and athletes too. Like I understand being very very appreciative of a person's craft. Their talent. But to obsessively talk about people and not characters all the time...people who are prone to change, to growth, to beliefs different than our own. How to love them when you don't even know them? You can't read about them from a book. They aren't contained within boundaries...so how?

Putting on my multi-stan cap from my kpop days.

Stanning someone is the same as stanning a fictional character. You might not know everything about them. You might not even know their favorite breakfast cereal. But there is one key component that stanning a fictional character has with stanning a real person: you like what you see.

I mean, you only like certain fictional characters based on what the characters have done in canon and what you've read or watched about them. I'm not going to go into the morality of liking evil fictional characters, versus liking actual evil human beings. That's not what this post is about.

I'm just saying that people stan real people based on what they've watched or read about them. It doesn't take much. Hell, I've stanned an entire group based on ONE THING that I saw ONE MEMBER do during an interview. From that moment I was like, yep, I'm a fan of the group. And from then on, I made it my life's mission to ignore every red flag contained in the group because of that one thing I saw.

It's as simple as that.

You see something you like and you choose to support it.

The thing about supporting real people that we don't actually know isn't weird or strange. It's the same as liking characters we don't really know. You've watched a 20-hour show about a character that has lived for decades and yet you're in love with the character. How is that any different from following someone's progress for years, watching them grow and become better at their craft, especially when their story is grass-to-grace. Most of it is just as scripted as fiction, but... we eat it up regardless.

We like what we see... until the moment we start seeing what we don't like.

As for the issue of liking people that could one day fuck up, *sigh* I believe our brains accept this in the same way we choose to date people that could one day cheat on us or hit us or lie to us.

People take chances. Sports fans do the same thing. Pop star fans do the same thing. It's as close to worship as we'd ever get in modern day because we place these people on pedestals.

It's been a practice of mine not to do it anymore because I got so tired of the disappointment. But let me just tell you that my life had MEANING when I was a kpop stan. (I'm not saying it doesn't have meaning now) I loved loving someone who was unattainable and perfect and could do no wrong.

But alas, that was a lie, in and of itself.

No human being is perfect. Well-behaved celebrities are just celebrities with well-protected skeletons in their closet.

As for your comment about boundaries. That is actually very interesting. It took me a minute but I eventually came up with an explanation.

People think companies will vet their artists and therefore only elevate or promote kind-hearted, sensible people with clean pasts. That's the boundary. The same way we know that fictional characters are operating within the boundaries of created canon, we believe that companies will create a boundary for us.

This is very false, of course, but we still somehow believe it. Because everytime a new person comes out, we hear things like, "look at how she bowed so low. She must be humble," or "he always let's his co-star go first, so he must be a gentleman," or "they've been in the industry for years. We would have heard something was wrong if there was anything to find." Even though we know a person couldn't possibly be perfect, we falsely trust companies to do their due diligence, believing that other things don't play into a person's rise to stardom like nepotism, or talent or proximity to casting directors.

At the end of the day, we're all just playing Russian roulette with our feelings and hoping that when we wake up in the morning, that wouldn't be the day that our favorite actors/idol cause an unforgivable scandal.

[soldat-buck]

HELLO, just fyi I'm a little less into Bucky and a LOT more into Astarion now

idk if I'm going to change the name/theme of this blog, or post on main, or just leave everything as is and send confusing messages with every post on this blog. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

also i've been through some REAL SHIT over the last two years. my mental health is absolutely not the same. i am not the same person any of you have known. I knew moving in with MIL to the shitass state of North Carolina would be difficult, we had the chance to escape right at the end, but like Orpheus, I looked back at Eurydice and now i have been trapped in Southern Passive Aggressive hell.

on the bright side, my mil is insane and makes herself suffer too. on the unbright side, no matter how small i make myself, she's getting worse (and more scared of me???? i do not understand). she's started up with "praying all night that you'll start going to church and never drink alcohol again" type bullshit

my car got totaled at the end of November and my dear brother bought me Baldur's Gate 3 as a get well soon present. I cannot fully express how much this game has saved me - this stupid obsession over a gd vampire elf is honestly one of the few reasons i wake up in the morning. playing the game and keeping the stabbing urges to virtual people, writing dumb little scenes because I can hear Astarion snark stupid shit or picture him dealing with some ridiculous scenario or another - sounds unhinged, but it's been keeping me going.

i'm not really allowed to exist in the house i'm alive in (saying i'm "living" here makes it sound like i have free, unadulterated access to things like "cooking utensils", "work/craft spaces", "a flushing toilet and running water", "using the tv for gaming instead of watching tv", "using any of living spaces to live, instead of empty space to look at", "my cats"). i'm not quite at the end of my rope yet, but gods DAMN, in a way i feel feral. done with this. done with the next person who wants to control and micromanage me. numb. i want to bite someone.

i had a biopsy the other week with zero pain management (no ibprophen or anything). i didn't flinch because i just didn't care about the pain. i'm so shut down from stress that hunger pains mean nothing to me. it's just a sensation that happens sometimes. being reached into and having pieces literally plucked out of my body? eh, that's a thing that happened. get into a car wreck with huge Crayola marker purple bruises? i walked away with little problem.

*deep inhale*

anyway, ALL THAT aside, i'm really into Astarion now

i think it's equal parts "crush" and "intense gender envy", tho it might be swinging a bit harder into the envy part.

[driftwithme]

Love Line Mako is the most confident person you know WITHOUT getting the extremely cocky factor like Raleigh and Chuck did.

Don't get me wrong, she's definitely cocky because Pacific Rim (2013) Mako already was like that. It's just that she took the chance to be a j-pilot and never looked back.

She knows there's still so much the Jaeger Program can do for the world, kaijus or not. She wants to figure out how to make them smaller, lower the issues of a bad drift and the radiation risks. She got out of Med Bay and cornered Hermann to ask the probability of the precursors finding a way to open the Breach again. She loves his parents' legacy, enough to take her swords to war and now enough to push the Jaeger Program forward not matter what.

Mako loves the jaeger world. Like Chuck, she chose that life, that war, Pentecost and Herc never forced on it. True, Mako and Chuck did it also to be closer to their dads, but at the end of the day, the circumstances of their decision doesn't mean they cannot love their line of work. Chuck and Mako were not the best merely out of sense of duty. They were nerds, obsessed with the technicalities, they were passionate to their craft, devoted to the cause they decided to fight for.

Operation Pitfall pushed Chuck to walk away and clear his head enough to notice if being a ranger was something he still wanted or if it was just the habit keeping him there. On the other hand, Mako didn't need to rethink any of it. She has nothing left to prove to anyone and she knows it. She's a legend at 22 years old. Everyone fully expects her to step up and become Marshall once Herc retires even.

I think her conflict in Love Line is not "should I be doing this" or "Am I the right person to do this" but "How will I pull this off?"

She dives into Pentecost's archives to figure out how her dad did it. She chases down old allies, rebuilds in her mind a version of her dad that shouldn't have met because he was always a father to her first, always careful to balance his paternal responsibility with his Marshall persona.

Her conflict is not "everyone thinks I can't do this because I'm too young or a girl". Hell, she has serious work to attend and she needs to learn to play the political game and for that, she needs to chase Stacker's ghost. There's her personal life too: pills she has to take after Pitfall, her friendship with Chuck that she doesn't want to lose, the deep ache in her ribs whenever she spends weeks without meeting with Raleigh or at least video calling him, she wants to make sure Newt project is going well and he's dutifully meeting with Hannibal Chau, she needs to send a gift for Tendo's newborn daughter, visit Hermman and talk about the logistics of the new lab they will need.

J-pilots are emotionally equiped to deal with the stress of such environments, so she's not cracking any time soon. It doesn't mean she has no problems. It just means that doubting herself is not an issue at the time.

[flannel-and-rainbows]

15 questions, 15 mutuals :)

Tagged by @lepetitfruit , sorry I'm a couple days late on responding to thiss

There's no way I'm gonna tag 15 people, but I suppose I'll tag a few of you

Anyways;

Were you named after anyone?

My first name was chosen by my parents after some biblical person, it was related to trouble having me etc etc, I've heard the story plenty. My middle name is the same as both my great-grandmother's and my aunt's I believe.

When was the last time you cried?

Actually cried? Not sure, I'm the suppress-emotions-when-possible type. Getting a bit teary and doing my best to avoid crying? When a character died on a show I was watching a few days ago

Do you have kids?

Dear god no, nor do I plan to. I mean, maybe if my future partner really wants a kid I'll consider it, but there is no way in hell I will be the one giving birth. Not a chance

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

If you haven't heard me use sarcasm, either I am dead or you've never spoken to me for more than 30 seconds.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

For some reason I seem to have accidentally trained my brain to look for queer signals right off the bat, so ngl it'll probably be that. Sounds bad, I know, but it's the truth

What's your eye color?

Hazel

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings" is so non-specific, it could be practically any genre! Including scary stuff! But anyways, I haven't watched a ton of horror but if whatever I'm watching doesn't have a satisfying ending I will revolt (aka read fanfics) so I choose happy endings

Any special talents?

I do competitive archery on a national level, I think that one counts. I also can and will improvise practically anything small-ish into earrings

Where were you born?

Same general area I live now, Illinois, good ole American midwest. Yes, I am dying inside.

What are your hobbies?

Can I just repeat the "special skills" stuff? Archery, making earrings, and anything else I may hyperfixate on at any given time. Those things include half a million fandoms, way too many craft projects, and the occasional writing sprees.

Have any pets?

The only one who's tecnically mine is my cat, Pippin (named after the hobbit). The other animals in my house include Daisy, our beagle, and my sibling's two ferrets, Merlin and Myrtle.

What sports do/ have you played?

Feeling a bit repetitive here, but once again my answer is archery

How tall are you?

At least 5'7 last I checked, could be a little bit more

Favorite subject in school?

Well, back when I went to public school I'd always say science, but given the fact that I was 8 and only went through 3rd grade there's some room to change there. However, in my homeschooling ventures my work was much less rigidly defined by subject so I'm honestly not sure which to say here, I just teach myself anything I'm interested in

Dream job?

If I could get this writing demon in my brain under control that'd be fantastic, I need it to start spitting words onto pages please. Other than that, is it too much to ask to find a hands-off job that generates it's own income so I can travel and socialize and just live?

I'll tag... @superwho-ace @lonely-little-astronaut @renee561 @mon-sher-liam @siriuslythatbitch @seventiessunglasses @homoromoacecase

No pressure obviously, and if anyone else sees this you can say you were tagged by me, go for it!

[sh4m]

For those wondering, I live on the East Coast of Australia, this might help make things make sense later.

~

Watching the clips circulating from the Oscar's has lead me to look back on some things and have to come to terms with others.

Like how when I was younger I wanted to he an actor, not the big, well known silver screen kind, but the stage kind, the kind that only certain people knew about, but still cared enough to give a shit about.

No, this wasn't because of Hamilton, it was because of things like Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake piece, the one everyone knows, and Shakespeare, and this one scene from some kind of Cirque du Soleil-esq show where these two men are trying to give this woman on a balcony a rose, so they stack these chairs and tables and other things too, they stacked them up so high!

Just to give her a rose.. it was a while ago like maybe when I was 7 years old that I watched it at like midnight with my parents when i definitely should have been sleeping..

I did plays in high school and the drama teachers would always tell me about workshops and different shows that were on, and the shows would be amazing! And because it was usually a matinee with other schools, the actors and crew would let us ask questions and give advice and tips at the end of the performance!

My mother, however, wasn't too supportive. She would tell me that it was a waste of time and that the other people were better than i was, so I didn't go to the workshops and after a while I stopped asking if I could.

So I stopped trying to be on stage, and tried to do different things. I did art, music, sport, writing, I read more books, I played video games, and I started playing dungeons and dragons to try and make me feel better.

She didn't take me wanting to be a singer and a musician kindly either.

But working in around that kind of entertainment is addictive in a way, the lights, the stage, the thrill of getting it all perfect.. it's not something that can be forgotten either.

So I changed my craft! I started working doing tech and backstage stuff, I would haul around props and and set up stages, rig lights and sound, run cables all around the school hall, and sit in the wings during every performance and watch as it all came together.

And I was happy with that! Hell, I'm even doing a certificate course so I can do it professionally, any thing from live entertainment and music festivals to awards shows!

And then I saw all the speeches from the awards that Everything Everywhere All at Once won, and it made me remember something that I blocked out from one of the shows I acted in.

At the end, when everyone was leaving and people were saying the whole 'oh, you were so good!' to the cast, only a few non POC audience member that wasn't a teacher that I knew personally or a friend of mine said that I did a good job, nor to my Middle Eastern friend that was on stage the entire show. All the congratulations and 'good jobs!' that we got were majority from people of colour, people that looked like us.

I remember talking to the one of the leads after with their parents.. their parents didn't know I was in the play until the lead, a friend of mine, introduced me to them.. we had meet like 3 times before then.

After helping pack some things up and grabbing my stuff to leave with my dad, the music teachers stopped us to say that I did a good job and to chat too. One was a white, young, gay man, who everyone at the school loved and the other was a small, old, Asian woman, she was my first music teacher and the vocal ensemble teacher, I remember her asking what I wanted to do after school and when I said acting she asked if I wanted to do the film kind.

When I said I wanted to do stage acting I remember her eyes light up with excitement, and looking back what looked like hope.

I never had the heart to tell her that I gave up before moving to a new high school.

The Oscar's made me realised that I lost my chance to be under stage lights and that now I'll only ever be behind them. It made me grieve something I never had for the past 4 hours. I sarted crying about this at around 4am, it's 7am right now.

Now I've slowly come to terms with it, and have to leave for school in an hour, and funnily enough I have my entertainment course today as well.

We're doing our stage lighting module this term.