#They made mothers just to make my life bad.

[nathaslosthershit]

Emotional Times (OP81)

Summary: Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant Part of my summer event!

It has been a rough time in the Piastri household. Oscar loves his wife, he really does, and god, would he move heaven and earth for her. In her current state though, she doesn’t know whether she wants heaven or earth and if he brings her the wrong one she will burst into tears, but if he brings her the right one, she will also burst into tears.

There wasn’t any winning. During moments like that, he just had to remember that greener grass on the other side. The other side where he finally has his own little family. 

The couple had also both made peace with the fact he would be traveling a lot during the season and she would have to spend some of her pregnancy by herself. It was easy while she could travel in the beginning but a few complications cut her ability to do so off much sooner than the two would have liked. And she did not like this. 

“Honey, please, get back in bed.” Oscar begged at 5 am. He was ready to head off to his next race, when he unintentionally woke his very pregnant wife up after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

This made her frustrated, she had finally gone to sleep after spending so much of the night tossing and trying to turn and the minute she drifts off he has the audacity to-

Then she realized he kissed her on the forehead because he was leaving her. 

Now, she was holding onto him by the front door, in absolute tears at the thought she would have to do another race weekend alone.

“Please, my love. It absolutely breaks my heart to leave you but I have no choice. Don’t make this harder for me…” Oscar tried to reason with her, but he was on the brink of tears himself seeing how much she wanted him to stay, realizing how much he wanted to stay. But he couldn’t.

“Oscar, I can’t do it, please it's so hard being here all alone. I know it's cliché but I can’t even tie my shoes. How am I supposed to do anything? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can’t take care of myself?”

He knew she wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying or make him feel bad if he did leave. These were real concerns she had voiced before. But he felt so helpless in this moment, almost as helpless as she felt constantly. 

The realization hit him, he couldn’t leave her like this. It was unfair to both of them. He had to do something.

“I will figure something out, don’t worry, Honey. Go back to sleep and when you wake up it will be much better, I promise.” He really shouldn’t promise that when he didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t come up with one while she was sobbing into his neck and holding on for dear life.

With a few hiccups and a small nod, he wiped her tears and gave her a kiss as he left the apartment. 45 minutes later than he would have liked, hopefully the group he was sharing the jet with didn’t leave him behind. 

She already felt better when she woke up, having gotten hours of sleep, finally. It felt so good to wake up well rested and without that many aches. Nothing could bring her mood down.

Except when she couldn’t get in touch with her husband.

She knew he was traveling, that the minute his plane landed he was off to start preparing for the upcoming race. But no calls and no messages soured her mood real fast. 

She tried to shake it off, she went about her day trying not to dwell on it, trying not to send him threatening messages for not answering her the second she texted him. 

A call woke her up the next morning, well it was noon but she still wasn't pleased. Not till she saw who was calling.

“Oh sweetheart! How are you?” Nicole Piastri asked.

If there was one person she loved almost as much as her husband, it was his mother.

“I’m okay, haven’t heard from Oscar much, that asshole.” she grumbled.

“Oh I remember the days, that's why I have my twitter afterall.” Nicole said, making her laugh. It was sometimes a wonder how her husband was Nicole’s son. 

“Yeah well i-”

“Oh crap, honey, I have to go! But I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang tight!” Nicole said before hanging up.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the abrupt end to the call as a knock came from the front door. Connecting the two, she wobbled as fast as she could to the door, where her mother-in-law stood. 

And then she burst into tears.

“Oh, he told me you were going to do that but I didn’t know it would be that immediate,” Nicole said as she went to hug her. 

Through the tears and snot, she asked “Oscar? What do you mean?”

“He said he texted you, gosh, he is the worst at communication for someone who spends so much time on his phone,” she frowned at her daughter-in-law.

Quickly opening her texts, she saw he had messaged her a few hours ago:

Oscar: I told you I had a plan, just a few more hours, my love. I can’t wait to see you in a few days :) 

Thus the mother and daughter-in-law started their girls weekend. My god, it was exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her husband, this was 1000 times better than what she would have done if he was here. And despite how much she missed him, the weekend seemed to fly by. 

Oscar: How is she? I am only half an hour away.

Nicole: Currently napping, but she has been good! Relaxed and happy. Hasn’t even cried in the past few days

Oscar: Wow, I am almost offended she didn’t miss me more?

Nicole: She needed girl time, you couldn’t give that to her sweetheart. She also needed someone who actually knew how to correctly do laundry.

Oscar: Alright, mum, nice talking to you. I'll be back soon, please don’t turn my wife against me.

Nicole: 😉

Just as he did when he was leaving, Oscar unintentionally woke his pregnant wife up when kissing her on the forehead. Unlike when he was leaving, she didn’t get upset. She was too happy to see him that the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

Holding him in a death grip, she recounted all she did while he was gone. She couldn’t really go out much at this point, so hearing his mom still found a way to make her weekend enjoyable was a relief. 

“I haven’t even cried over something stupid in a while!” She said as she finished her account of the past few days.

“I heard, I am glad you are feeling so much better, my love. I hated being gone but hearing you had a wonderful time makes me so happy.” He said as he began to tear up, thinking about how awful it was to leave. 

“Oscar, come on, just cause i'm not as emotional doesn’t mean you have to make up for it” She teased.

After pestering him about how his time away was, he remembered he had picked up something for her, and while he bought it thinking he would use it to stop her tears, why not just give it to her while she is this happy.

“I picked up your favorite,” he said as he reluctantly handed her the food he got, shuddering at the unusual combination she loved oh so much.

The sound of her son gagging as he watched his wife eat had Nicole coming into the room to investigate. The picture of her pregnant daughter-in-law, happy as a clam while she ate her food, and her son holding his nose and trying to stop himself from throwing up was a sight she committed to memory and knew she was going to bring up for years to come. 

“What have you got there?” Nicole asked, knowingly making Oscar gag again as he was reminded of the food combination.

“Cottage cheese and ketchup,” she answered. Instead of disgust, the couple was confused by the light bulb moment Nicole seemed to have.

“My goodness! That is what I craved with Oscar. Gross to think about now but I loved it then.”

“What! You never told me this?” Oscar asked, astounded he would be the reason his mom had to eat a combination that disgusted him so.

“I was saving it for the next podcast I did. Think I’ll have to talk about this moment too.” His mom teased. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned to his wife and immediately clocked in on the frown beginning to form.

Both mother and son had the same exact thought: Uh oh.

“You- you craved the same thing?” She stuttered out.

“Um, yeah? You okay, Honey?” Nicole asked, now on edge at the incoming storm.

Seconds of silence went by but were soon disrupted by the sounds of his wife’s cries as she took in the information.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you upset at that?” Oscar questioned as he went to rub her back in comfort.

“Its just- that is so sweet, and the thought that- that I could be having the same cravings, is just- I just-” His wife didn’t get to finish her sentence as more wails came out, followed by hiccuping.  

Nicole and Oscar looked at each other in alarm as they realized that this was most likely the consequence of a weekend with no breakdowns. They had a long night ahead of them. 

[dalishious]

Zevran Arainai is an Underrated Delight

There is so much depth to Zevran Arainai’s writing that is often overlooked in favour of either sexually objectifying him or ignoring him altogether… which is kind of ironic, considering that’s how so many people in his life have treated him within universe. And then, of course, there’s the biphobia directed at his character back when Dragon Age: Origins first released. He was a joke in many Gamer Bro circles about how they killed him for flirting with their male protagonist. It’s such a shame, really. Because personally speaking, Zevran is one of my favourite characters in the entire Dragon Age franchise.

Zevran’s introduction to the game immediately sets him apart from every other character who is capable of joining the party. He first appears as an enemy; an assassin hired to kill the Warden by Loghain, the Warden’s political opponent. You immediately have the option to either kill him, or add him to the party roster. Zevran does not initially join the Warden’s cause out of the goodness of his heart; he does it because he knows that the Antivan Crows who essentially own him – which we’ll get to – will kill him for failing to assassinate your character. This really paints his original placement within the group’s dynamics in an interesting light. No one really trusts him; Alistair and Morrigan both outright voice this. Zevran himself believes he is only safe with the Warden so long as he makes himself useful, per how he sells his worthiness to the Warden when trying to convince them to let him join. There’s tension there that really makes getting to know him extra interesting, because before anything else, you need to build trust. So, when he’s finally ready to start revealing parts about his personal history, you the player really get to feel like you’ve earned something special from his character.

Zevran’s mother was Dalish, but fell in love with an elf from the city and left her clan behind. Unfortunately, Zevran’s father was assassinated, leaving her with nothing but his debts to pay. She turned to sex work, until she died giving birth to Zevran, and all that debt fell onto him in turn. Zevran was raised by the sex workers in the brothel his mother worked at, until the age of seven, when the Antivan Crow Guildmaster Talav Arainai bought him for seven sovereigns; one of eighteen children made into “compradi” (recruits) that year. In his training, Zevran was tortured in a variety of ways, and in his own words, “taught to know nothing else but murder”. Of those eighteen, Zevran was one of two who survived the training, the other being a human boy named Taliesen. Then, a woman named Rinnala (“Rinna”) was placed into House Arainai from the Azul Contract that dictated the Crows were to take in unwanted bastard children of the Antivan Crown. For a time being, Zevran, Taliesen, and Rinnala worked well together as a professional and romantic trio. But when Zevran and Taliesen were tricked into believing Rinnala betrayed the Crows in an internal Crow scheme, they killed her. When they learned otherwise, Zevran took it particularly rough, combined with the realization of how little he himself mattered, too.

The trauma that Zevran has experienced is something he often makes jokes about, or speaks detached from. I’ve been called out many times on doing the same thing with my own trauma, and I know it’s a pretty commonplace response in others as well. That makes it feel all the more real; his responses are so authentically relatable. It’s also in a way, I find a little therapeutic to get to comfort a character whose survival mechanism has been to downplay his trauma for so long. The Warden is able to tell Zevran that what he’s been through sounds horrible, and even though Zevran tries to excuse things as not being that bad, you gain significant approval from him, just for showing him sympathy. Sympathy is something he’s severely lacked in his life. For all Zevran jokes about his traumatizing experiences, they clearly left a mark on him. Zevran eventually admits to the Warden that he did not actually anticipate being able to kill them, and that what he really wanted in taking on the job was to die. Again, sorry to get personal here for a moment, but I too have attempted suicide, and honestly I still struggle with ideation sometimes. And yet again I must say that I find something really beautiful in a character like Zevran, who is able to find peace and happiness on the other side of surviving such a thing.

As for Zevran’s romance… oh, Zevran’s romance path is such a delight. He is so multidimensional in that he’s very flirtatious and fun, while also showing genuine vulnerability in time. He admits that his role as a Crow meant he was encouraged to use seduction as a tool. His only experience with a true relationship ended very poorly, with Rinna’s death and a wedge forming between him and Taliesen, who he is eventually forced to kill too in the game. One of my favourite moments in the entire game, is when you invite him to your tent and he says no… and if you accept his consensual rights, that is what changes everything for him and the Warden’s relationship. Zevran feels safe and loved, and he gets to be happy. As of Dragon Age: Inquisition, a romanced Zevran is still at the Warden’s side, too, if they’re alive.

I love Zevran Arainai so much. He truly is an amazingly well done character, and deserves so much more respect and interest than he gets.

*Sourced from in-game dialogue and World of Thedas vol. 2

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[pastadoughie]

i dont know how to say it or what to even do at this point

i am in an abusive housing situation. witch isnt really new info nor something i talk about often. i have learned to deal w/ shit on my own overtime, aswell as my situation getting slightly better with my distancing from certain family members. but its still bad.

my mother & my brother are both extremely abusive, my brother is phisically abusive, and my mother is a pedophile. they are the only other familial ties i have aside from my dad, and they obviously arent viable and would be worse for me.

my dad is my best option in terms of family and the only person i live with currently. when hes drunk he can be actively cruel & abusive, regularly threatening sexual abuse via forfeiting custody of me to my mother. but im still semi able to reason with him while he isnt drunk. most the times hes simply neglectful, witch is preferable to the alternative atleast. & can somewhat be manipulated into caring about me, or at the very least signing & agreeing to things if i do all of the other legwork

i have a disability of some sort, i have alot of theories but overall doctors refuse to properly test me. i smoke so, they just blame every single issue i have on that & dont listen to ANY of my concerns. somewhat similar to pots in terms of symtoms. i just call it "the slop", this sortof sludge that clouds all my thoughts and everything i do. when it gets bad i cant move properly, often knocking things over, completely losing my train of thought. it can be really hard to have conversations with me, i spend alot of time being silent, keep repeating the same simple few words, dont really listen properly. i can sometimes spend hours just staring off into space. it gets better when im laying down, but sometimes not even that helps. it takes a certain kind of determination to get literally anything done. witch is really hard given my lack of any kind of support.

if i am not extremely ontop of things, if i cant force myself to do things through the slop, then i end up getting into these sludge spirals. i dont eat. i dont drink. i just lay in bed. you get so dizzy and your mouth gets so dry, and so hungry, and the slop is just unbarable. not even really existing as a person, sleeping 18 hours a day, sort of halfheartedly & extremely badly trying to do basic tasks, like eating or drinking, and then after 4 hours i just. go back to sleep. its unbarable & dehumanizing. & its not like i have anybody that can help me. i explain this to people and then they always make suggestions on how to manage it that requires another person to help, and then they never listen when i say i do not have anybody.

i need to get some kind of treatment and i need to get some kind of testing, but doing so requires so much work so many phone calls so much effort that i HAVE to do on my own, that i just. dont have the energy for. its not that im intellectually or phisically incapable i just, im just always in slop. its just always a barrier i have to work around. and the fact that just. the entire fucking medical system is so rotten to the core w/ incompetance & malice twards queer and disabled people means that its just.. so hard to get anything done at all for treatment.

and beyond the fact i have to get meds, i also really need to work on moving out. while i dont think my dad would realistically kick me out until im 18, as that would require actually doing paperwork. i dont trust him to be nice to me beyond that point.

and incase i need to say this to some sheltered fuck who does not understand this. no i cannot go to dcs. i have dealt with dcs my entire life. dcs is not an organization made to help people. it never HAS been. any good they do is incedental. they are at their core a government organization that is supposed to sound good. they do not help children. my tharapist submitted a dcs report about my brother trying to kill me back in december, and i had a dcs worker come to my door and start defending pedophilia to me. every single encounter i have had with dcs has eaither done nothing or actively been harmful to me in having a dcs worker actively encorage my families various abusive behavior.

in summery, i need some kind of help figuring out a way to. deal with everything. ideally something that would help me with practical stuff like medical paperwork, scedualling appointments, that stuff. ideally focused on & or primarily targeted to queer autists in the 16 to mid 20s range of ages. and also that is within arizona. most of the stuff ive been reccomending is stuff like housing and independant living programs, witch while helpful what im looking for is primarily medical help & that is centered around more chronic issues & disabilities that like, need more testing & such to be diagnosed, and not really in the vein of teaching me how to do appointments & such, i know how. i just. am not super good at functioning in general.

dont dm me saying "oh im always here if u wanna talk!!" thats weird. i dont know you.

[nebbyy]

A list of my most unpopular ASOIAF opinions and theories

Please remember this is all based on the books alone, and there also might be SPOILERS for Fire and Blood and the Game of Thrones book series.

ALSO I might open the requests for Game of Thrones fics and headcanons, and maybe for Baldur's Gate as well once I get back into it.

Okayyy so here we gooo.

1. Maegor's story doesn't add up

Don't get me wrong, he must've obviously been a horrible king and a shitty husband, but reading the chapters that talk about him in Blood and Fire, it all just felt like a list of rumours and versions of all nefarious crimes he would've committed. There are about five versions of whatever he did with each wife of his, each of them more depraved than the one before.

Again, I don't think he was an angel or anything, but my theory is that his history was written by biased sources. His reign was made illicit by Jaehaerys, so it would've been in his best interest to have him remembered as nothing more than a viscious monster.

It's a form of "damnatio memoriae" that we've already seen, in a way, with Mushroom and the Dance of Dragons. When in a conflict, and especially after a victory, each side wants to depict the side they beat as badly as possible Caesar did a similar thing in "De Bello Gallico", the book about his conquest of the modern French and Swiss territories. In this book he excuses his conquest with the supposed preparations for an attack by the Helvetians, a fact that was proven to be misinterpreted as it was a mere pacific migration. And again, he did the same thing when he accused them of cannibalising each other while being under siege, another untrue fact made up to just make them seem worse.

So in a way, Maegor's reputation could've been made worse by following historians to legitimate Jaehaerys' reign over Aerea's claim.

2. Incest has no effects on Valyrians

Okay, this is a bit weirder. My theory is that Valyrians practised incest because it had no effect on their offspring.

Looking at the Targaryen family tree, I noticed that the cases of madness increase the more Targaryens marry with other houses. Baelor the Blessed was the first mad Targaryen, and he had a grandmother of house Harte and a great grandmother who was half Arryn.

Before Baelor, Helaena is questionably considered mad as well, which would prove my theory furthermore had it not been for the amount of trauma she endured in her life so I'm honestly not gonna count her as "mad". Rhaegel Rargaryen was the second confirmed mad Targaryen, with a Martell mother; his daughter Aelora is questionably considered mad too, and her mother is an Arryn.

Aerion Brightflame was another mad Targaryen, with a half Martell father and a Dayne mother. The last two mad Targaryens were Aerys II and Viserys III, but at this point, the bloodline was mixed with others enough to make the Targaryen madness an unpredictable factor.

So I think we could theorise that Valyrians can perform incest so long as it remains within pure Valyrian blood.

3. There is no good or bad in the Dance of Dragons

Rhaenyra had a claim on the throne because of Viserys' will, but Aegon had a claim on the throne because of the laws of Westeros themselves. You can argue that Alicent wasn't the nicest stepmother, yet you can't look me in the face and tell me a woman in the middle ages married to a KING to whom she had given THREE SONS wouldn't complain when the king dismisses all of them and their claims in favor of his firstborn daughter.

Otto may have manipulated Alicent, but that was just how a Lord was supposed to act in that situation: have her marry the best candidate (the king), have her birth at least a son (she did) and make sure those children are first in line for the throne (as it should be, by the laws).

Viserys shouldn't have remarried if he already had his heir, period.

At the same time, Rhaenyra had every reason to fight for her claim and try and go against the actual laws of Westeros, but it was inevitable that many would've seen badly her attempt at claiming what was Aegon's birthright.

Lucerys was an asshole for mutilating Aemond and never showed remorse, quite the opposite. Aemond was an asshole who shouldn't have had all the power he had, plus I hardly believe his and Alys relationship was really consensual so there's that..

In the end, they all had their rights and wrongs, but that doesn't matter at all. The only point about the Dance is the fact that a pointless conflict led to the downfall of one of the strongest families in Westeros history.

4. Rhaegar didn't love Lyanna

I hate the series for making them marry. Like, seriously, have D&D ever read the books? Have they not read what happened between Maegor and the Faith when he took another wife??

Never, not even in the most twisted of universes, would the faith let Rhaegar kidnap and marry a Stark girl while he was still married to Elia. That just wouldn't be plausible.

And I also don't think he'd just fall in love at first sight with a random girl at a tournament. She was a beautiful soul and had many qualities, but she had nothing that could truly make a man throw away his whole life to pursue her.

He needed another child. The dragon has three heads. He had Rhaenys and Aegon, but Visenya was missing (I just made up the name for the third possible child considering he was naming them after the three conquerors lmao). He needed Lyanna to have that third child, and he knew how to get her to get what he wanted.

Perhaps we'll find out this isn't true. Perhaps Rhaegar really was head over heels for Lyanna, but I honestly really really doubt it.

5. There is no certainty on who the Prince that was Promised is

No matter what the show wants us to see, we still don't know who it is. It could be Daenerys, it could be Jon, it could even be Stannis and we're not gonna know it until Martin reveals it.

I honestly think Daenerys is Azor Ahai, but I'm still curious to see why we would need to revive Jon then. And considering Stannis' sword possibly being Azor Ahai's sword, is it a fake one made by Melisandre to get what she wanted from him, or does he actually possess the original sword?

Well, these are the first theories and opinions I could think of right now, I might post more in the future. Again, please don't slander me in the comments, these are just my personal opinions and I respect all others.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Guarded Desires: Part 8

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Padawan!Qimir x Princess!Reader

Summary: After an assassination attempt on your mother, she’s asked a favor from the Jedi Council to watch over you and your family until the assailant has been caught. As a result, your mother’s old friend, Master Vernestra, has her padawan, Qimir, be your bodyguard. Based off my imagine here.

Series Masterlist

Qimir did his best not to let anger settle within him, but he couldn't help it. For the first time in his life, he felt...alive. Being with you set him aflame, it awakened a desire within him that he didn't know he could feel.

The Jedi aren't supposed to feel things like desire. The Jedi aren't supposed to form attachments. Such feelings were looked down upon, like they were bad. And yet...they made Qimir feel more alive than he's ever felt before. Only for you to be ripped away from him.

He got a taste of what it was like to hold you, kiss you, and...love you.

Qimir had never been in love but he was sure that's what he felt for you. He thought about you every day since he met you. He protected you, stayed by your side, worried about your well being. He learned about your likes, dislikes, your desires, your goals. He saw you at low points and high. In just a few weeks, Qimir had fallen for you. You made it so easy to do so with your kindness, your sass, your fire, and determination.

His heart aches being so far from you now.

Master Vernestra still remains on Nerathos Prime as she continues to lead the investigation on the palace attacks and the assassination attempt on your mother.

She occasionally checks in on him and his answers are the same. He's still training and working to be one of the best Jedi Knights he can be. However, the more he says it, the less it rings true to him.

He's not sure if being a Jedi is what he wants to do anymore. His faith is wavering as he doesn't understand how something that makes him feel good and warm inside is seen as something bad.

That's when he starts hearing a voice. There's been a poking in his mind. A voice whispering in his ear that the Jedi are wrong. That love and desire aren't a bad thing. That his affections and desire to be with you should be acknowledged and accepted, not swept under the rug like a dirty secret. You don't deserve to be a dirty secret.

_________________________

Nira was...nice. She was professional and was very keen on keeping the professional boundary between you and herself. She never shared too many details about herself. Only vague facts. It frustrated you, but you also understood.

You suddenly felt so alone now.

You took your frustrations out on training, kicking down any and all of the Knight's Guard that became your partner. Orin could see that something was wrong, so after a grueling session. He pulled you off to the side.

"What's going on?" He asks in concern.

You roll your eyes, "Nothing."

He scoffs, "Don't lie to me. We all see something is wrong. None of the others will say something, but I'm your friend. I care about you, Y/N. Whatever it is, let me help," he places a hand on your shoulder and you shrug him off.

"You can't help me," you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

"At least let me try."

"Why? So you can be in my father's good graces?"

"No! I told you, you're my friend! Y/N, we've been friends for years. You know I'd never do something like that to you."

You run a hand down your face, "You're right. I'm sorry. It's-It's complicated."

"It's about him, isn't it? The Jedi," Orin whispers. You nod and he continues, "Had a feeling. Noticed he was replaced. Did-Did something bad happen?"

You sigh, "Yes, and no. We confessed our feelings for each other and-and we kissed. But then Master Vernestra looked into his head and saw what we did. He was sent back to Coruscant shortly after."

"Why?"

"Jedi aren't supposed to form any sort of attachments. I was too much of a distraction and temptation. So he was sent away."

Orin nods in understanding, "I see...I'm sorry, Y/N."

You shrug, "I'm tired of other people being in control of my life. For once, I was doing something for me. Not for my father's approval or for the good of our people, me! And it was stripped away at an instant."

Orin immediately pulls you into his arms. His hold was tight but also comforting. And for the first time in a while, you let yourself break down. You're heartbroken and feel so stuck. Knowing Orin is there for you really seemed to strike a chord in you.

So you wrap your arms around him and let yourself cry. You cry until there are no tears left.

___________________

You wake up to hearing waves crashing. There's a slight breeze and you smell salt water.

You open your eyes to brightness. The suns of Nerathos Prime beaming down at you. You're laying in the sand. You slowly sit up and look around. You're at the beach you and your family visited a week prior.

But you're confused. Why're you here?

"Enjoy your nap, princess?" you turn to see Qimir sitting beside you, a soft smile on his lips.

"Qimir? What-Where-"

"You're dreaming."

You shoulder slump in disappointment, "So you're not really here?"

His face scrunches up in a sorrowful look, "Unfortunately not. I'm still on Coruscant, but...I think our bond is so strong it's linked us. So we can be in each other's dreams."

"Why now? You've been gone for a week and now you're appearing in my dreams?"

"I've been trying to get the link to stick and I finally got it," he places his hand on top of yours, "How are you?"

You snort, "Miserable. You?"

"Just about the same. I, uh, I got into a fight a few days ago."

Your eyes widen, "What? Why?"

"Another padawan heard about why I came back. Started spewing off a bunch of fodder and wouldn't shut up, so I punched him."

"What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter," he shrugs trying to brush off the subject, he pulls his knees up and rests his arms up on them.

"Was it about us?"

He slowly nods, looking out to the sea, "Said I was stupid for ever thinking a princess could fall for me."

You snort, "How could I not fall for you? You're funny, kind, strong, understanding-"

Qimir blushes, hiding his face in his arms, "Stop it."

You giggle, "No! It's true! I-You're different, Qimir. You see me for me and not some princess."

"And you see me for me," he reaches out and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder and he rests his head on yours.

"Can we stay here forever?" you whisper with desperation.

He sighs, "No, but I'll do my best to visit you as much as I can. But this is my first time actually succeeding and I don't know the toll it'll take on me after."

"Okay. Just take care of yourself, alright, Qi?"

"I'll do my best," he replies, pressing a kiss to your head and letting the sound of the crashing waves fill the silence between you.

[wolfintestinez]

ADAM STANHEIGHT HEADCANONS : 📼

hi hi ! here’s a few of my headcanons ! it’s not all of them but it’s the ones i have down, at the very least. 🗡️

- religious wendys / burger king eater.

- also a huge pepsi drinker, he rarely drinks anything else.

- as before, i am a tongue piercing truther, but it’s the only piercing he has. he’s scared of needles and it was a stupid thing that scott convinced him to do, he barely made it out of the healing process.

- it’s often he is rolling it around in his mouth without even realizing it, like he’s fidgeting.

- if he’s not listening to his ‘obscure’ hardcore bands, he’s listening to shit like oingo boingo. he will NOT admit it.

- he sticks around scott because he didn’t make too many friends in highschool, and he can’t stand the idea of having to start anew when it comes to the whole social scene. besides, being friends with scott has its perks (even if it means dealing with the toxicity). for example, there’s always something to do on a friday night.

- he didn’t drop out of highschool, but he did drop out of community college. he couldn’t be motivated to actually decide on what to do with his life, so he chose the only hobby he really enjoyed and made a career out of it. needless to say, his parents were not happy.

- speaking of his parents , he’s only close with his mother (kind of). his parents weren’t married, and have an odd relationship. his father is negligent, and pretty much just an asshole, while his mother cared about him enough to try and help when she could. but most of the time she stands by his fathers side, trying to play mediator.

- he only hates his father more as he sees his temper in himself. he’s angry, but he’s not sure what he’s ever exactly angry at. if anything, he’s an all around emotional guy, he just doesn’t know how to display them. he tends to blow up when overwhelmed.

- awkwardly charismatic, we can see this in the deleted ‘rockstar’ scene. it’s the weird bouts of confidence he gets, but it can so easily be torn down and his sarcastic self defense mechanism gets kicked in.

- undiagnosed autistic IDC IDC !!! his special interest is photography and biology. weirdly enough, he always had the highest grades in his biology classes.

- when he drinks he’s a lot more social, but he can get out of control really fast. an impulsive drinker if anything. he can get stupid and start fights that he definitely cannot win.

- sort of insecure when in relationships, but he doesn’t ever have the guts to speak about until he’s making snide remarks and blowing up a few days later.

- has way too much knowledge over b-list horror movies, it annoys anyone who’s watching one with him. he really enjoys killer klowns from outer space.

- a cat person, he feeds the strays outside of his apartment complex. if he knew that he could support a pet financially, he would take on in.

- very blunt with his opinions, which will also get him into a lot of trouble. if he thinks your favorite movie of artist is bad, then he’s gonna say it.

- a touch starved loser, but he’s not good at initiating it. but as soon as he gets the go ahead, there’s no boundary doubting him.

[yatagarasuhonyaku]

Yukiya's Birth Mother (Novel Translation)

Blog Version

Context: At the end of the book, the equivalent of Episode 11, Natsuka and Sumio reveal they have not only known all along Yukiya’s real lineage, but they approached him with their intention to make the most of said status for Wakamiya’s sake.

“Brother!” Wakamiya’s sharp voice resounded through the room once again. Natsuka fell completely silent.

Sumio, who had been happily prattling on without a care until a moment ago, looked in Yukiya’s direction. His face suddenly twisted in discomfort.

“… Yukiya? What’s wrong?” He asked, yet Yukiya had no words in him to answer.

“Hah, so it’s as I thought, you are from the Northern House!” Rokon exclaimed, paying no mind to the dark mood in the room. “Well, there is no mistaking the Northern bloodline with a face of yours. Was that whole tale about having a different mother just some lie?”

No comment was made on Rokon’s insensitive question. Instead, his tone subdued, Wakamiya started to explain.

“It’s not a lie. Out of the three Taruhi brothers, the Northern Princess only gave birth to Yukiya. The eldest and the youngest have a different mother.”

“Huh, how come the concubine’s son is the heir of the family? Weird things sure do happen sometimes.”

“She’s not a concubine. Both are legal wives.” Yukiya answered this time, his voice cold as ice.

“Both are legal wives? What does that even mean?”

As Yukiya spoke on, he made a point of ignoring Natsuka and Sumio. They only stood there, perplexed by the boy’s sudden change in attitude.

“It’s normal you didn’t know, Sir Rokon,” Yukiya said, “Both Taruhi and the Northern House treat my birth mother, the first legal wife of the Lord of Taruhi, as if she hadn’t ever existed. But she was the Lord of the North’s second daughter.”

Yukiya kept explaining, emotionless. “She was frail from birth, or so I’ve been told. Everyone thought she couldn’t have children, and that she wouldn’t live for much longer anyway.”

The Lord of the North once pitied his daughter, saddled as she was by a short lifespan, and wanted nothing but to give her a chance to experience a happy simple life. And so, he sought to marry her to a man of her own choice, one she loved. The man she chose for herself was the then eldest son of Taruhi: Yukiya’s father, Yukimasa. She had fallen in love at first sight, apparently, and it was not a bad deal for Yukimasa either.

At the time, Yukiya’s grandfather held the position of Lord of Taruhi Village. He was suffering from sickness and wanted nothing but to retire, but Yukimasa was too young back then, which, among other concerns, led his relatives to ask him to please consider giving the position to another person.

To take up a princess of the Northern House as his legal wife was an extremely effective way to shut those voices up. The princess soon moved in, and Yukimasa took up his position as Lord.

During the following years, Yukiya’s mother led a happy life despite being bedbound. Everyone had thought she would live another year at best when she married, but soon that year turned to two, then three. It should have been happy news, yet a problem started to appear as her life kept prolonging. 

Soon, the Lord of the North started to worry about the lack of heirs.

Her health had indeed stabilized, but he knew her body was still in no condition to bear any children. The idea had been to have Yukimasa remarry once the princess passed away, yet she lived on. Had this situation continued on, the Lord of Taruhi Village would have found himself incapable of having any children. If what came after was a suggestion born out of gratitude towards the man who had accepted to look after his daughter until her death, nobody can say.

It had been the sixth Spring after the princess’s marriage. 

The Lord of the North went to visit the man who married his own daughter and asked him: ‘how about taking a concubine?’ Whether Yukimasa found himself in no position to reject his own lord, or he freely accepted, nobody can say. In the end, he still ended up taking a concubine: the woman who would later raise Yukiya as her own child, Azusa.

The Lord of the North chose Azusa personally, so both her lineage and personality were impeccable. She was truly a wonderful woman. Azusa came from a family of the Central Nobility that had long served the Northern Clan, so the Lord and his Consort had pampered her from childhood as if she were another one of their daughters. 

Yukima, the eldest son, was soon born to Yukimasa and Azusa. It’s said that when the Northern Lord got the news of his birth, he rejoiced as if he were his own grandson.

However, it came as a complete surprise for the Northern Princess. As it turns out, she had not been told anything on the matter before her husband took a concubine and, of all the possible timings, she was only informed of it after Yukima’s birth. To make matters worse, the mother was Azusa, with whom she had grown up as sisters.

The princess, who had lived happily bedbound until then, was enraged. Or perhaps indignation would be a more suitable way to describe it. Whatever it was, the result was the same: she pushed herself to her very limits, gave birth to a son, Yukiya, and then—died, just as expected.

She knew what would happen to her from the start.

Yet Yukiya’s mother ignored everyone’s vehement opposition to the idea, and eventually met her end without ever holding her son in her arms. And so Yukiya, who had lost his mother, was raised by Azusa.

“It’s truly quite the similar story to Wakamiya’s,” Yukiya affirmed, still impassive, “I’m the second son, but there was a time when everyone in the Northern Region thought I would become the heir in my brother’s place.” 

Azusa became Yukimasa’s consort immediately after the Princess died, yet it proved to be pointless. It all happened around the time Yukiya was five years old.

He had simply managed to read a difficult poem before his older brother once, yet that’s all it took. Soon after, both the Northern Court Ravens and their relatives in Taruhi came over all together just to feel out their father’s opinion about disinheriting the older brother.

Thinking back, it was preposterous; but apparently Yukimasa truly found himself at a loss back then. His relatives didn’t hesitate to blame him for the death of the Princess, all because he took a concubine. People would come just to badmouth Azusa to her face, asking her if she didn’t pity the poor dead princess. Her son’s position in the family was in question, and she couldn’t even rely on her own husband; so she suffered alone. 

Despite all of that, Yukimasa kept focusing on staying on good graces with the Northern Lord, and did nothing publicly to protect either Yukima or his still living wife.

“I thought to myself. ‘I won’t tolerate this for yet another second.’”

Natsuka swallowed. Yukiya’s entire self was filled to the brim with utter contempt. “So that’s why… That’s why you always pretended to be a fool”

“Well… There was no other way to save my family, wasn’t it? Despite it all, I do love my family.” Yukiya replied. He was fully aware of his own overflowing rage, and the fact it was plain for all to see. “If my father is not going to protect us, then the only option that’s left is for me to do so. Me, as the second son, to my family.”

And so Yukiya wouldn’t—couldn’t—look past what he had just learnt.

[st-dionysus]

Waiter's 9/11 tommorow. Pray for the brunch servers of America 🇺🇸 💁🛎️.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[playbarbies]

hey guys pssst c’mere i gotta tell you somethin’ :

[curiosity-killed]

wip wednesday

Callebero had never hated anyone until he met the Capallan king. He had not known how much he did hate him until he saw the walls of the city rising from the sand, how that hatred could fill him like a scouring flame until he was sick on how much he wanted him to suffer. Devolt stood before him now, with grey curling in his hair and new wrinkles by his eyes and mouth, and Callebero felt—tired. Spent. He had had chances to kill the king before. He had not stayed his hand out of mercy or a sense of honor or nobility. First, when he took Tikana, Callebero had let him live because he would live the rest of his life with the weight of Callebero’s boot against his neck and he would not be made a martyr to rally his people in rebellion. Then, when he had attacked the camp, Callebero had spared him because Jisel, incomprehensibly, did not want her father to die. Catterik had been furious. He’d fumed, seethed, hissed out all the ways Jisel was implicated in the attack—her arrival the night before, the blood on her hands, the knife shoved in her belt. When Callebero did not sway in his decision, he’d subsided only because Callebero was Alir’s child and Catterik loved Alir.

sometimes Callebero takes after his mom in military focus and legacy and sometimes he takes after his mom by getting a military commander to fall hopelessly in love with him

[vulpinesaint]

it's me and all the women in literature described in despondent unhappiness in a marriage that they don't hate but don't enjoy as they should and who feel as if they're not the way a woman should be and who yearn to be free of their husband and children not because they despise them but because they're not for a husband and children and who can't say that they're miserable but who feel a numb kind of despair in all that disconnectedness and disconnectedness and disconnectedness. they are just like me for real

[gaytoddhoward]

i kind of need to be like skinned or put into a meat grinder or something . lol .

[wreckedhoney]

hehHUEH filled the BLORBOBLEEBUScharts :,)

[witherbythesword]

.