#brought into the world grown and without context

[imnotyetfound]

My take on Five/Lila - and why they were endgame

I’ve seen so many people say that Five and Lila didn’t make any sense, and I just disagree. I've tried to really motivate why, and also why I see them as endgame. Feel free to agree or disagree.

First of all, Five and Lila share a common background of being raised plus trained as survivors and weapons. Five was molded by his time in the apocalypse, the Commission and his ruthless upbringing within the Hargreeves family, while Lila was similarly trained and manipulated by the Handler. Both of them were forced into brutal, high-stakes environments from a young age, developing a sense of independence, ruthlessness, and survival instincts that the rest of the family can’t fully relate to. We see this especially in Five and Lila’s difficulties in showing emotional vulnerability and trusting others. This shared experience means they both understand the cost of their traumatic upbringings and can relate to each other’s emotional scars in ways others just won’t be able to. So already by this, they’re somewhat bonded from the start.

In other similarities both Five and Lila possess extraordinary intelligence and tactical thinking. They challenge each other in a way no one else does. This has been an ongoing thing between them, bouncing off each other and sometimes teaming up. It’s also what drew them to work on another mission together in S4, there has always been some kind of pull/push there. Personality-wise both Five and Lila have a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the world. But despite the cynicism, they still manage to eventually relax and find humor in each other’s company. The lighter moments we’ve seen between them at times have been an interesting contrast to their otherwise serious and violent lifestyles. 

I do believe their shared backgrounds and personalities created a bond that was then further strengthened during the years they spent lost in the subway together. Isolated from the rest of the world, they literally only had each other for company. The intimacy and trust that grew between them was inevitable. When you have no one else to rely on, you’re going to develop a relationship stronger than under normal circumstances. So over those years, they must have grown close in ways that no one else could fully understand. Even though we didn't get to see every detail of how it unfolded (because the season was way too short), it’s not difficult to imagine.

I’d also say they naturally grew a bond stronger than with any other character at that time, except for the one between mother and child which is why Lila’s need to be with her children would always make her go home if given the chance. Five knew this and it’s the reason he kept the solution from her for months. 

Now, to my thoughts about their actions in regards to Diego as this is often brought up. The argument that Lila cheated on her husband with Five is understandable from a moral perspective, if we see it as just that without any context. But when you consider the circumstances it is way more nuanced. You have to look at not only the environment they found themselves in, but also the emotional and psychological journey they went through together. Their relationship was ultimately forged over a shared background and then several years of isolation. Then you add to the fact that Diego seems to have treated Lila like crap in the years leading up to the isolation, she said it herself he was always moping around and complaining while she sacrificed her life to stay at home and take care of the kids. She even told him she needed a break to reassess their relationship. I do believe her and Five had somewhat already begun an emotional affair before the isolation, the way they were sneaking off together and clearly wanted to keep their thing separate from Diego and the others. Yet they still didn’t get physical until they settled down, believing they weren’t gonna find a way back.

Also, it’s important to here consider the strength of the bond, as I mentioned earlier, that Five and Lila must have developed over those years. They knew each other better than anyone else by the end. Spending every day together in a survival situation with nothing else around would likely create an unparalleled level of intimacy and emotional closeness. This bond would probably transcend Lila’s previous relationship with Diego, and maybe even Five’s bond with his siblings. It’s been years since he returned to them and they had all grown in separate directions. Lila and Five however had recently experienced something life-changing together, and it is unfair to dismiss the strength of their connection as something unethical or out of character when their reality had shifted so drastically from when the show started.

Another important point here is how the relationship with Lila allowed Five to finally be "human" and emotionally open in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. Five was obviously emotionally detached as a result of both his past trauma and the burden of being a hyper-intelligent man in the body of a boy. With Lila, he had the chance to just feel love and trust without worrying about anything else. So I do think this outweighs his “betrayal” against his brother as people claim.

Now on to how and why Five and Lila were endgame. I’m convinced that Lila did love Five despite her choice to leave their isolation. To me this was cemented as she didn’t deny her feelings when Diego asked her straight out. If she wanted to make Diego feel better she could have easily denied her feelings for Five to reassure him. Yet even when asked twice she couldn’t do it. There was also Lila’s look of relief when Five returned to them at the end. It was Five who Lila allowed to comfort her after she said goodbye to her family, trusting him in her most vulnerable moment instead of blipping back to Diego and the others. These events showed the deep trust and emotional intimacy that still existed between them after returning to “the real world”. Despite her saying it was over. I also want to add here that Lila took Five’s hand as they were dying, the look between them was for me at least silently saying they loved each other. 

So all in all I do believe that the connection and love between Five and Lila was authentic. It also made sense. They’re able to understand each other’s emotional complexities, including their darker tendencies, without needing to change who they are. Still their time together seemed to actually have softened them both when they finally had the chance to settle down, almost as if they were healing from past trauma together. This would forge a relationship that no one else could replicate without going through the same experience. Making Five and Lila a reasonable endgame, which they also were in my eyes considering they died holding hands.

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Summary:  Five and Lila's shared background of trauma, matched intelligence, and similar personalities means they make sense. They shared a bond that was only further strengthened during their years of isolation. For 7 years they only had each other to rely on. This inevitably created an intimacy and relationship that couldn’t be compared to what they had had with anyone else. Outweighing what they did to Diego when you consider all context. Lila and Five ended up being human and vulnerable with each other on a level they hadn’t been with anyone else. Ultimately Lila’s refusal to deny her feelings for Five, her relief when he returned, him comforting her as she sent her family away and then finally them dying hand-in-hand, showed that they were endgame.

[eskildit]

I know this is supposed to be a silly joke but it actually kinda fucks me up because, Augustine doesn’t have a mother. Or at least, he doesn’t remember having a mother. What does it mean to understand you have a brother but no understanding of parents or family? 

[abattre]

It's actually so disappointing that Naruto's narrative took the route that it did. Kishimoto created an incredibly interesting world and premise, and ruined it by having everything amount to a shallow message of forgiveness that undermines almost every meaningful element in the story. And it's like,, I want to appreciate the world outside of the plot, but the moral framing of the story makes it virtually impossible because of how disingenuous it is. It completely undermines the audience's understanding of the tragedy and horror of the world so that Naruto becoming Hokage and being the most powerful person in the world by the end doesn't come across as distasteful as it actually is.

Like it's made abundantly clear throughout the story that the village system, and Shinobi society as a whole, is incredibly flawed. Kishimoto goes out of his way to show us that Konoha's council is made up of objectively horrible people. We see first hand how the council's short-sighted ideas of what 'protecting the village' means results in devastating tragedy for people both in Konoha and outside of it. It's clear in how Danzo and the rest of the council act that their atrocious behaviour is them just blatantly abusing their power to maintain their authority. The council has no remorse in anything they do; human experimentation, genocide, slavery, and blatant exploitation is all fair game to them if it preserves their status quo. And instead of maybe, like, addressing Konoha's skewed morality in a sensible way and setting the village up for reform, the narrative just tries forcing the audience to perceive Konoha's genuinely heinous actions as necessities. Which, you know, will work when you're like 8, but once you've grown up and developed some reading comprehension and critical thinking,,, it just feels annoyingly manipulative.

At its core, Naruto is a story that attempts to deconstruct morality. Like this is abundantly clear in how Kishimoto is constantly paralleling the dichotomy of good and evil literally every chance he gets. In the end though, this dichotomy just doesn't work in the context of the Naruto story because the narrative framing of the village being the good guys is just hysterically ridiculous. Konoha is an awful place, that does awful things, and is run by awful people that refuse to change anything because it benefits them for the village to remain awful forever. To anyone with a developed sense of media literacy the village cannot in any way be framed as morally good, so when the story resolves itself with Naruto becoming next in line to govern Konoha under the same unchanging authoritarian regime, with the same council supporting him because of his sheer physical prowess and complete dedication to their twisted ideology,,, it's honestly just an incredibly underwhelming conclusion to a story that made itself out to be more profound than it actually is.

If I had to guess, I imagine Kishimoto just didn't think through how negatively the world he created would reflect on the plot. Ultimately though, you can't write a moral story that's so deeply entrenched in real world social inequity and decide halfway through that because you don't know how to fix these things your story's going to have to be about how they're actually okay to be doing and perpetuating,,, like that is awful and also a terrible lesson to impart on an audience of children. With how serious the issues are in Shinobi society, trying to resolve things with the power of friendship was always going to fall flat. These broad scale injustices can't be brushed aside in that way without undermining their severity and diminishing the understandable impact they had on the characters that experienced such extreme oppression. That's essentially the trap that Naruto's conclusion falls into though, and so the story just ends up feeling incomplete and unfulfilling because none of the issues brought up are actually addressed or discussed with the gravity they deserve.

[dcangel]

What Hurts The Most

A fic inspired by “what hurts the most” by rascal flatts. (Peep some lyric references in there)

Context: you and stiles were the couple, always together and completely inseparable. But lack of communication due to overwhelming stress and responsibilities of balancing the pack’s supernatural problems as well as school left for a gap between you two, and it didn’t end well.

tw: emetophobia, slight intoxication (not really), no smut

she didn’t tell you. Lydia didn’t tell you stiles was gonna be here. In all fairness, she probably didn’t know. It wasn’t her fault that everyone always came to her parties; that she was popular and could fit in anywhere. After all, she was in the pack, so, naturally, she invited all of them. Just because you and stiles hadn’t ended on good terms didn’t mean that one of you shouldn’t get to come and enjoy a good night with friends, right?

So here you were: in your little red dress, having grown to love the color over the past year or so, and feeling like the world was about crumble as you froze. Lydia noticed your shift in mood instantly, probably related to the literal shifting movements you made, trying to get out of sight. Out of everyone’s sight, preferably, but most definitely out of his sight.

You tried so hard—so excessively hard—to keep your eyes off him. After finding your eyes gazing in his direction, your mind telling itself that you only wanted a quick glance, just a small glimpse for only a second, and then you’d look away for the rest of the night, you had to pry your eyes away, physically turning your body to prevent it.

Lydia knew, and she had told you it was for the better. Not that either of you were malicious during your end, but it just brought baggage along with the subject when it was even hinted at. Baggage of which you were starting to feel the weight of right now.

Kira came over with Scott as you and Lydia had been chatting about school and gossip; things you used to do before when life was simple and you weren’t constantly stuck in ‘don’t die’ mode thanks to the supernatural. To others, it would’ve seemed as if you were genuinely engaged in this conversation; talking, smiling, nodding your head, even falling back into old habits of talking with your hands. But the red-headed girl knew, even Kira—who you’d not been friends with for long—could tell. It was all just a guise.

Scott, of course, recognized a few indignations of your facade, and he figured that you’d probably just want to have a girl talk without him there. So, he told his girlfriend he’d be talking to a few other friends—probably meaning stiles—and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving.

The pda made you antsy. It reminded you of him. Of course it did, everything did. The forehead kisses, him holding you from behind as you sunk into his grip and he held you against his warm chest, and for just that moment, you two felt the unspoken sense of security and safety. But now you were alone; unsafe, unstable, and with nothing against your back other than red satin and a chilled breeze.

You must’ve spaced out, because the next thing you knew, the girls were trying to calmly usher you into the house. A seemingly normal thing, but you could tell it was rushed, a sense of urgency could be observed from their body language.

They weren’t gossiping much, telling you that they just had to change the scene because there were people around who shouldn’t be hearing what they had to say. It would account for the darted glances, aimed at people next to or behind you.

Naturally, you wondered who was around that wasn’t allowed to hear such drama. A few quick head turns—that you tried making discreet—and glancing at lamp posts covered in neatly trimmed ivy, or maybe even the roof, as if there was something interesting about them that might offset any of those who would find your directed glances unsuspicious, lead to a new discovery.

Like muscle memory, your keen eyes found him easily in a crowd. Unfortunately, you also had the displeasure of finding someone else next to him. A girl. Blonde hair, pretty eyes that you couldn’t determine the color of from this distance, on-point makeup, a perfect button nose, and just overall drop dead gorgeous. She was all over him, hands gliding and smoothing over his flannel-clad torso as she overdramatized her laughs at whatever he was saying, clearly a bit intoxicated.

For a moment, when Lydia and Kira realized that you had seen what they were trying to keep you from, they stopped fighting against your resistance. They gave you sympathetic looks that went unseen by your—now glossed over—eyes.

Your struggling stilled, your hands losing their grip on each of the girls’ arms. Your elbows dropped, then your hands did, your smiling expression long before either of them.

You felt physically ill, every muscle in your body went stiff like a living corpse—which is what you might as well be at this point. Your skin was pale—not just pale, but drained of any color, any life that had been left inside after your other half was torn from you not even a month ago.

And now he was here—as expected—but with another girl. Did they just meet or something? Did he come here with her? You could’ve sworn that she wasn’t around earlier. And if it was the latter, then that means he’s already moved on. Already found another girl to commit to when you two couldn’t even figure out the problems you had when you were together, those of which are now left unsolved; forever solidified in the black and white color of your once vibrant past.

“Oh,” you breathed out, the air in your lungs was thick and sat heavily. It was that type of slow, unsystematic but somehow still very calculated breathing that would automatically start when one would try and hold back the floodgates from opening.

Suddenly you turned back to the girls, the polished smile you held nearly identical to the one before, but tampered with the emotion you held in your eyes, and started walking inside like they wanted you to do before. “So what were you gonna say? The stuff that you didn’t want anyone else hearing.”

Kira looked a bit stunned, like she was just waiting for it all to come crashing down as if you hadn’t fully realized what you’d seen yet. But Lydia was a bit more accustomed to your insincere smiles and happy attitudes whenever something that would send the average person spiraling downwards came about.

“Well,” she started, searching her brain from any drama juicy enough to distract you, “you know Molly, right?”

You nodded like you were there and in the moment, but your eyes were distant. “From Biology?”

Lydia nodded. “Yeah, well, I heard that she and Kylie had this huge fight about shoes or something stupid…” Lydia kept talking, and you kept making interjecting comments, occasionally throwing in a surprised face or two, yet the two girls saw right through you.

You kept looking around the room, through the glass doors to Lydia’s backyard, even going as far as to strain your neck a little to see into the next room, of course, all while trying not to make it obvious. But you were slowly going insane. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to run as far and as fast as you could from beacon hills and never look back, or if you just wanted to collapse and kick and scream like a toddler. The other things you wanted to do weren’t really options on the board.

You were drawn from your inevitable breakdown by the strawberry blonde placing a gentle hand on your arm. One look at her and you already knew what she was silently asking. No, you weren’t okay. But for the night, you were going to have to be.

Over the next thirty minutes alone, you tossed back shot after shot of diluted punch. You weren’t sure why you were taking shots of the spiked punch, to be honest. You just thought maybe it would trick your brain into thinking it was straight alcohol instead of some mild fruity concoction at a highschool party.

It did help to get you feeling a little better, and by better, it meant that you couldn’t bring yourself to care about holding things in as much. You started gossiping with Lydia and Kira, you started dancing whenever your favorite songs played, you started laughing when someone would get pushed into the pool. You started having fun and enjoying yourself.

And with the lack of restraint came the glances, the gazes that lasted a little too long, the jealousy of some girl you didn’t even know the name of, the need to breakdown and continue the almost-daily streak.

You kept talking to your friends, occasionally singing along to some songs with them like every lyric didn't remind you of him in some way, or like how the tempo didn't remind you of how his heart would beat when you laid your head on his chest at night.

It didn’t quite hit until Radioactive started playing. The song itself had no significance, but rather, the music video. You remembered sitting with stiles and watching the music video, and feeling sad because the puppets were beating each other up or something. Whatever it was, you couldn’t exactly remember since it’s been so long since you’ve even heard this song, let alone watch the video. Plus you had a bit of alcohol in your system now from how much punch you drank.

Something didn’t sit right in your stomach, and you noticed immediately. Your tipsy movements stopped, your face now one of concentration and slight fear. You had a fear of throwing up, always have and always will.

“L-Lydia?”

The strawberry blonde could tell something was wrong just by the pitch of your voice; like a scared kid thinking the world was about to end over some mild concern. “Yeah?”

You didn’t want to jinx your inevitable fate of getting sick, but the sour look on your face could pretty much convey your fears.

“Okay, it’s okay.” She said calmly. “Let’s just get you inside, alright? You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

After leading you through her house, filled to the brim with sweaty, intoxicated teenagers, pushing and elbowing a few who barely looked conscious, she brought you to an upstairs bathroom where hopefully you wouldn’t be bothered. The bathroom was connected to one of the guest bedrooms, and you’d have to go through the bedroom to get there.

You insisted she wait outside and to not speak to or touch you at all, it was just some overstimulation problems your body had while throwing up that you wanted to avoid. You didn’t have a hair tie, and without Lydia or Kira to help since you locked them out of the pristine room, you were left to struggle with holding your own hair back as you hunched over the toilet and released the contents of your stomach.

The vile feeling of acid mixed with a fruity flavor and revolting feeling of the party snacks coming back up scorched your throat. Your fingers held a weak grip, but one that felt like your life depended on it, on the edge of the toilet as you completely disregarded all your standards for cleanliness.

Tears welled in your eyes, the extreme dislike for the revolting feeling and taste combo coming on quickly and strongly.

And then it all came crashing down.

The resistance you had for not getting sick in years—other than that one month,—the walls you put in place, the courageous and happy role you played day to day; all of it. It all went to shit.

And all because when it came down to this moment, where you were expelling every substance you ingested in the past few hours, the person you needed most was god knows where doing god knows what with whoever the fuck he wanted. And what he wanted wasn’t you. That’s how it seemed, at least.

Having been your friend years before you started something new between you two, stiles knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew you didn’t like people around you when you weren’t feeling good, and he never asked why, even though it made no sense. He knew you didn’t have an answer, it was just a matter of comfort. And you didn’t even have to tell him it was okay to sit next to you, to talk about the little things that went on inside his head, to slowly start tracing his fingers over yours. He didn’t need to ask and you didn’t need to tell him because you two had something most didn’t. A real and true connection.

And then you reverted back to most relationships, nothing special, and no communication anymore. You couldn’t understand how things just “fizzled out” or you two just “drifted apart” because how could that happen? All those promises, affectionate touches or gestures that were so sickly sweet they were toothache worthy—had they meant nothing? In the moment, they meant the world, and that was mutually agreed upon, but what about now?

You were at your worst: the lowest of the low between the combination of a breakdown and ones of your worse fears passing through your system at the moment, and the only one that could truly help you, if only a little, wasn’t yours anymore.

It was stupid, so fucking stupid. How had it managed to get this bad? You should’ve just said what was on your mind, never put it off as something to say later. You felt like you took it all for granted, and that if you had a chance, you’d trade everything, everything, to give him all those words that you left unspoken.

Between the shaking, the loss of everything your body had left to run on, and the calls of your name from outside that fell on deaf ears, you felt empty. Both physically and emotionally. You were chilled by the ever-flowing breeze in the drafty room, yet your insides felt like molten. It made you want rip your hair out, claw at your skin, dig your nails into any surface until they bled—like you wanted an inanimate object to feel as much pain as you did,—kick things, scream until your throat bled, which probably would take long thanks to the corrosive stomach acid, and bash every mirror and glass object in this room.

Of course, Lydia’s house had nothing do with your internal neurasthenia, yet you found yourself digging your nails into the slightly tarnished porcelain that you had draped yourself over, head still partially in the bowl.

You genuinely didn’t know if you could go on from here. Maybe making Lydia’s guest bathroom your forever home wouldn’t be the worst choice. The small clock in the corner steadily ticked, and despite being on the second floor and on the opposite side of the house, you could still hear the booming music that shook the frame of your friend’s home.

You tried reciting every line, every word, every beat to the currently played song that you could, hoping it would get your mind off the nauseating feeling in your gut and the equally horrendous smell assaulting your nostrils. You just decided to flush the toilet to at least solve one of your million problems.

Even if you eventually chose to leave Lydia’s bathroom, your makeup was completely fucked. You were sure your mascara flaked off in the streams of tears down your cheeks, and with the flood from your eyes carried your concealers and foundation, probably your eyeliner as well even though it was usually pretty good about staying on.

Thanks to the lack of lucidity in your semi-manic state, you didn’t hear the door handle turning, nor did you hear the soft creak of the hinges as the opened wide enough for a person to slip through. Had you been listening to the movements, you would’ve heard the silence that came when one would typically close a door after entering a room.

You didn’t realize there was another presence in this room until the shadows of their motions got closer, and you felt the heat of someone slowly walking behind you. They sat down on the edge of the shower bath, and only then when you peaked from the corner of your eyes to see their elbows resting on their thighs, their hands already starting to fidget, did you know who it was.

Your head fell on your arms that were resting on the toilet seat, your heart sinking to your feet, which, in all fairness, wasn’t that far from where your heart was. Your head was hung over the rim of the seat into the bowl, and you watched as your tears made small ripples in the filtered water. For a moment, you recognized your appreciation for Lydia’s big house and over-tidy habits even more; the toilet was probably very rarely used and was also, knowing Lydia, most likely cleaned once a week.

But that small distraction only occupied your mind for a second before your brain forced you to remember the, now awkward, situation you’ve been put in. You thought you had healed, or was starting to, but with stiles the closest he’s been to you in weeks, given the tiny room, your mind began to revert to the easygoing mindset you typically occupied—well, up until around a month ago. Being with stiles meant you didn’t have to think, unless you were with the pack, and you two would act like there wasn’t a care in the world.

Even now, you still acted like that. But not because you had someone to goof around with that matched your energy so well, rather, it was because you no longer had the will. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about things as much as you used to, despite the so called “care-free” attitude you maintained during those ostensibly infinite months.

The tears easily rolled from the corner of your eye, down the bridge of your nose, below the other eye, and down your cheek into your hair, creating a wet horizontal line. You had nothing left, so why not just wallow in self-pity?

Unfortunately, you felt the wretched sense of your guts churning, you grumbled a few small words of lost denial before using the rest of your strength, your body automatically curling over the toilet, your head partially in the bowl, and clawed at the porcelain as you gagged and heaved.

Nothing came out except for acidic spit, not even bile. That’s when you knew that it was probably over, your intestines having expelled all substances it held. The left over nutrients, or rather lack of thereof, only wished you to hold yourself over the toilet with every bit of shaky vigor left in you. You didn’t even bother looking over at the person, having lost all self preservation from losing your entire digestive tract in a matter of minutes, and also from shamelessly dry-heaving in front of them.

No one spoke, the air heavy with unsaid words, unspoken hearts. Him not seeing that love in you was the reason for your inevitable nightly meltdowns. It would be one thing if you broke up, both people still maintaining the feelings, unlucky in the sense that it just wasn’t going to work between them, but knowing that it could—it did—work between you two, and having so much left to say, so much left over in your heart for him that continued to thrive, and watching him walk away, had to have been one of the most gut wrenching, vomit inducing (literally) feelings known to mankind.

You heard him take that familiar precursory breath like he was preparing to speak, and for a moment, a stupidly naïve moment, you hoped beyond hope that this would be the moment he’d apologize for ending things, tell you that he missed you and still loved you, and maybe—just maybe—he finally realized that he was made for you, and you for him. That you fit together perfectly, better than completing a satisfying thousand-piece puzzle.

But nothing came. Not the words you foolishly listened hard for in case they were spoken under his breath, not even a saddened sigh. Not a single word was uttered from his spot.

The entire English lexicon—hell, you would’ve taken French or even Spanish—and not a single word was exchanged in order to express the locutions that made it hard for you to get up, get dressed, and live with this regret for eternity.

And yet you always thought that if you had the chance, you’d gladly exchange every breath in your lungs for what little attention he’d give back, even just a lingering look. And here was your chance: sitting to your right on a matching set of porcelain, leaning forward on his elbows, fingers anxiously twisting and gripping at each other.

Where were those words? Those extra breaths you promised him—if not him, then yourself—you’d keep for this moment? Where the hell were they? In the toilet with the rest of your self respect and preservation?

But even with the movements of reaching out a weak hand for the opulent, four-ply toilet paper stocked neatly on a mounted holder, and wiping the filth from your lips and chin before tossing the plush tissues into the slightly-soiled water below, you still hadn’t managed to come up with those lexises.

Pressing the small handle, you flushed your (somewhat) dinner along with your dignity down the toilet. You took your time getting up, feeling each of your limbs and the muscles within straining and shaking uncontrollably as they works tirelessly to keep you upright to a certain extent.

You dragged your cramped-up legs over to the sink, leaning forward and gripping the marble with a deceptive force. You weren’t wrong; your makeup was absolutely wrecked: streaks that mapped the flow of your tears through your foundation, messed up lipstick that tried its best to cling to most lips through a sheer stain, and mascara in places you didn’t even know were possible to get the black substance there.

“She’s pretty,” you heard your own voice croak, “what’s her name?”

A stutter came, like he was about to deny your slight accusations. “Charlotte.” His words sounded uncaring, and you hoped to whatever god or gods out there that it meant they weren’t a thing like you assumed.

How the fuck were you supposed to compete with a pretty girl named charlotte? Lydia would say you’re not, that you should just let it go. That it was all over now.

You hummed with a nod, pretending like this was interesting information when you really just wanted to get the fuck out of here. “Well, she seems nice.” You didn’t even know the girl and you already hated her guts. “I hope she can be all the things I couldn’t.” You whispered, biting your bottom lip to conceal the pain that was begging for an exit.

A quick glance in his direction which your heart required for your departure, and you knew that you’d rendered him speechless. Perhaps voiceless, maybe even stricken with the same sorrowful illness that consumed you.

Who were you kidding, he was probably just doing this for himself so he could have a clear conscience when he moves on to the next girl—to Charlotte. Fuck.

No matter what fabrications you made in your mind, putting in genuine effort to make him seem like the bad guy or to find a reason to hate him, you couldn’t. You knew stiles would never do something like that. He was the most selfless person you know—knew.

Your mind was in shambles, tearing itself apart while the other half burst to flames. A train wreck. So, you gathered what was left of your being as a whole, and gave him the most genuine smile you could muster as if you were happy for him, and walked out.

You left him there; a bitter tinge of guilt, jealousy, and grief all mixed into one lethal concoction. It certainly didn’t feel like closure, but you had to tell yourself it was the best you were going to get.

And, in the end, two hearts had written love letters that fate failed to deliver.

Heavily unedited

Sorry if it’s a bit cringe (especially towards the end) but I kinda rushed it since I really wanted to get this out, plus I can’t tell if I’m good at writing these depressing things or not??

Also, watch out for a pt 2 bc I might make one if yall want👀

12/21/23

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — Violet receives shocking news about a staff member and must quickly adjust to maintain her family's affairs

WORD COUNT — 3.1 K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — Ah! The first chapter is here! I am so excited to share this with all of you and give Violet the love she deserves with a little bit of a twist! Again another big thank you to @sleepyfireball and @lifesizehysteria who have been there for my incoherent screaming about this at all hours of the day

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰: 𝑨𝑭𝑭𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮

If there was one thing that was universally acknowledged, it was that the Bridgertons were always in the spotlight. 

Whether it was right at the start when the heartthrob Edmund Bridgerton began dating Violet Ledger, or their early marriage, or the child that followed soon after, or the seven children that followed after that, the life of the Bridgertons was always and would always be publicized. 

Violet loved her family to pieces, anyone could tell that, but there were times she wished they could live a different life, perhaps not one so fully in the public eye. 

One might think that after over twenty years of such a reality, someone might get used to it, but the world had a way of surprising you. Just as Violet thought she might be getting a hold of things, heavily pregnant with her eighth child, she lost the love of her life. 

There were always people, itching for contact, for a word to be uttered to them from the illustrious family, but when she screamed out for help the world was silent. 

From the moment he died in her arms the cameras would not leave. Suddenly they knew everything. About her grief, how close she herself had come to dying while giving birth to her last child; she could not escape one moment without seeing her own tearstained face somewhere. 

She knew it would be completely impossible to remove herself and her family from all those curious onlookers, but she did her best to create a shield, and as the years passed, the cameras pointed away from her and her loved ones, only returning every once in a while, often around the time of joyful news. 

It had been a long while since that time, but with every single flash of a camera came back those moments she wished so desperately to erase from her mind. 

Her children had almost all since moved on, scattered across the world pursuing their dreams or starting their families, and the family home had certainly grown much quieter without their presence, but that didn’t mean life remained quiet. 

“Mum!” Hyacinth squealed and Violet could hear her feet pattering up the stairs until she threw the door to her office open, a bright smile on her face. 

Violet chuckled a little at the sight, Hyacinth was still in her pyjamas, one of those heatless curl contraptions clipped to her hair, a certain exuberance in her eyes that was not brought on by just anything.

“Yes, dearest?” she said, putting down her pen and taking off her glasses, giving her full attention to her youngest. 

“She’s coming here! To London!” 

“I’m sorry, who is coming here?” Violet looked at her daughter with some confusion, knowing that when she got too excited she often forgot to give context. 

“Beyoncé!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “Mum, please, please, please, you have to let me go!” 

Violet shook her head, “Hyacinth, you’re sixteen, I’m not going to let you go to a concert alone. They might not even allow you into the venue alone.” 

“What if I convince Benedict to come with me?” Hyacinth asked. “Or Daphne!” 

“Daphne just had a baby, please don’t ask your sister if she’ll go to a concert with you,” Violet chuckled. “But I suppose if Benedict says yes then I’ll consider it.” 

“Really?” Hyacinth grinned and Violet nodded her head. 

Hyacinth squealed once more and ran over to the side of her mother’s desk, engulfing her in a tight hug. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

“Hyacinth, shut up! It’s nine in the morning.” They heard Gregory call from his room, but Hyacinth clearly didn’t care and Violet simply rolled her eyes at the interaction between the two. 

“Where did you find out the concert was happening?” Violet asked. 

“Just on here,” Hyacinth swiped on the front of her phone screen showing the small news widget that had a headline about the tour dates, but Violet’s eyes drifted lower and widened at the sight of something else. “Mum, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” 

“I-I’m fine,” she said. “Why don’t you go see what your brother wants for breakfast, I have to make a few calls.” 

Hyacinth nodded her head, listening to her mother, leaving the room and closing the door behind her, allowing Violet to open her laptop and look up the headline she had seen. 

Of course everything had to happen the day her assistant went on leave. 

She quickly picked up her phone and called Anthony, praying he would pick up.

He answered after a few rings, but not without some frustration in his voice.

“Mum, can I call you back? Eddie is being a little shit right now and-,”

“Landon was just arrested,” she blurted and Anthony quieted. 

He quickly spoke to Kate, letting her know he had to take care of an emergency and Violet could hear him move to somewhere surely more private. 

“Okay, walk me through what’s going on,” he said. 

“I don’t know much, I just saw it on the news,” she explained. 

“What was he arrested for?” Anthony asked. 

She read through the article trying to gather a few details before speaking again.

“Looks like embezzlement from the other family he was working for,” she explained. “I had no idea, Anthony. We had no idea.” 

“Has anyone contacted you about it? Police? Press?” 

“Not yet,” she shook her head. “But I suppose we’re going to need a new financial manager,” she sighed.

“I’ll call the lawyers to make sure everything is in order,” Anthony said. 

“Darling, you’re on vacation with your family, I don’t want to distract you from that,” she sighed. 

“Mum, you’ve cleaned up all of our messes more times than I can count. Let me at least take care of the legal stuff from here. You can be on damage control with the media and find someone to replace him. You have that giant charity gala coming up and Marianne just went on leave, you can't do it alone.”

Violet bit the inside of her cheek and nodded her head, “Okay, but please tell Kate I’m sorry about this.” 

“You have no need to apologize, it’s not your fault.” 

“I hired him, it feels a little like my fault,” she groaned. “Okay, okay let me leave you. I’ll get things sorted over here, maybe talk to Pat about releasing a statement and get ahead of things.” 

“Good idea, we can touch base again tomorrow, how’s that?” 

“That should work. Call sooner if anything comes up,” Violet said. 

“I will, and don’t let this get to you too much. Love you, Mum.” 

“I love you too, my dear,” with one last sigh she hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. 

She took a moment before calling Pat and crafting a statement to release to the media together. After the wording was sorted, Pat took care of the rest and Violet immediately started her search for a new financial manager. 

She desperately tried to push down the feeling of dread that seemed to be creeping up inside her chest. Small voices making their way through, only to say that she had brought this upon herself. She prayed that if anything this would only be a minor scandal, that Landon had spared their family from his misdeeds. 

Violet didn’t know what she would do if it was more than that. Because in the end if Landon took their money, he had also taken their privacy. She could deal with a material loss, their family had more than enough to manage, but something that put that burning hot light back on her would make her feel like she was slowly losing her mind.

She didn’t particularly want to be in charge of the hiring process again, afraid she may make the same mistake as last time, but Anthony was right. Especially with Marianne on leave, she could not handle the events that were coming up alone. She would need some kind of support and to ensure the public knew the Bridgertons were still holding their heads high regardless of what was happening around them. 

Violet didn’t leave her office until well past midnight. She was grateful that both Hyacinth and Gregory came to check on her during separate occasions and made sure that she had eaten food and had something to drink. Clearly, this was not a common occurrence, but any time there was an issue the siblings knew their mother would be practically locked in her office until she couldn’t handle it any more. 

“Mum?” Gregory knocked on the door, carefully opening it a crack and sticking his head through. 

Violet had her hair clipped up, her glasses crooked on her nose, hunched over her computer. 

“Mum?” Gregory repeated, and Violet looked up from her screen. 

“Yes, darling, sorry,” she apologized, looking up with a yawn. 

“I think you should go to sleep,” he said. “You’re not going to be able to deal with whatever happened if you’re running on fumes.”

“You might benefit from taking your own advice,” she teased. “I distinctly remember you staying up all night before your A-Levels.” 

Gregory chuckled. 

“Well if you want me to listen next time maybe you can set a good example,” he suggested. 

Violet conceded, closing her laptop and removing her glasses, placing them down on her desk. After getting up, she pulled her son into a tight hug. 

He was now taller than her, just like all her other boys, but she still dragged him down for a kiss on his cheek before sending him off to bed and taking his wise advice. 

As Violet readied herself for bed, her mind couldn’t help but drift back to the situation she had to deal with. She was worried, not only that she wouldn’t see the signs of untrustworthiness in someone, but also that she may perhaps be too guarded to see a good candidate when they were in front of her. 

Regardless, she would have to find someone, fast, and she prayed that somehow she’d have clear enough vision to pick the right person. 

—

A few weeks had gone by, and schedule wise, things were getting tight for the Bridgertons. 

“Still no hires?” Anthony asked over a video call and Violet shook her head.

“I have another interview with someone today, but I’m starting to think I’m going to have to do this gala alone.” 

“We can call Benedict, maybe he can come and help, just temporarily?” Anthony suggested, but Violet shook her head. 

She knew that the responsibility of such tasks stressed her second son and, in the end, might just create more work. 

“No, let’s just hope this next applicant is a good fit,” she said. “I’ll send you a message to let you know how it goes.” 

Anthony nodded his head, “You take care, Mum.” 

“I will. Kiss Eddie and Kate for me?” 

“Always,” Anthony smiled and Violet smiled back before hanging up the phone. 

Violet arranged her papers and cleaned up her space a little in preparation for the applicant that would be brought to her soon. 

She’d made it a habit to be the person to greet them at the door and she figured it made sense to continue that, especially since they tried to keep a minimal amount of staff in the house and they were often off dealing with much more important things than answering the door. Plus, everyone was vetted by security on the way in so she didn’t have much to worry about by means of safety. 

When the time finally came and the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the entire house, Violet came down the stairs, quickly checking her hair in the mirror before answering the door. 

After so many years in the spotlight, Violet was not one to choke on her words often, but she found herself unable to speak for a moment, simply staring at the woman in front of her. 

“Hi, I’m here for the interview for the financial manager position,” you said. “I’m supposed to meet with Mrs. Bridgerton.” 

Violet blinked a few times and finally nodded her head, coughing a little and opening the door wider. 

“Yes t-that’s me. I am her. V-Violet,” she stumbled and stuttered, cursing herself internally for seeming so absentminded. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat again, welcoming you in. “Call me Violet.” 

“Violet, it’s nice to meet you,” you offered your hand for her to shake. “You have a lovely home.” 

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled, a pink tinge coming to her cheeks. “It’s been in my late husband’s family for generations. I tend to forget to give it so much as a second thought.” 

You chuckled a little at her comment and waited for her to direct you to where she wanted to hold the interview. 

“Did you have to travel far to get here?” Violet asked as you walked up the stairs together. 

“No, not too far,” you shook your head. “I suppose you’ve asked that quite a few times of late.” 

“Much to my own dismay,” she nodded. “I can’t count the number of interviews I’ve done the past few weeks,” she admitted. 

“Well then I hope this one goes well for the both of us,” you smiled and she chuckled. 

“Yes, as do I,” she nodded. 

Violet opened the door to her office and let you take a seat across from her desk before sitting down herself. 

“So, shall we get right into it?” she asked, and you nodded your head. 

Just as Violet opened her mouth to begin to speak, a loud muffled sound started vibrating through the walls of the old home. Violet frowned, but then quickly realized where the sound was coming from as Hyacinth’s voice rang loudly through the hallway, singing along to a Whitney Huston song. 

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, very embarrassed, and quickly excused herself, running over to Hyacinth’s room, opening the door without knocking. 

“Mum what are you-” 

“I’m in the middle of an interview,” she said. “Turn it down, or, better yet, please turn it off.” 

“Shoot! Gregory said it was tomorrow, the little twat!” Hyacinth quickly turned off her music and apologized to her mother. 

“Never mind that. I’ll talk to Gregory later,” Violet sighed. “Just please keep it down.” 

Hyacinth nodded her head and Violet left the room, going back to her office and closing the door behind her. 

“I’m so sorry for that,” she said. “School has been over for two weeks and they’re already restless.” 

“Your children?” you asked and Violet nodded. 

“My two youngest are still with me, the others have all moved out,” she explained. “Now where were we,” she settled back in her seat. “Can you tell me a bit about your educational background?” 

“Well I studied business for my undergrad and then went on to get an MBA and a Master’s in Economics,” you explained. 

“And on your CV it says you worked for a holding company previously?” she noted. 

“Yes, that was my last place of employment,” you confirmed. “I managed a lot of the company's assets and dealt with investments mostly.”

“And why did you leave?” 

You smiled, “Looking for a new challenge.” 

Violet nodded her head and flipped through her papers. 

“Do you have much experience dealing with people publically?” she asked. 

“Not particularly, that was often handled by others where I was previously employed,” you said. “I’d like to think I’m pretty personable though.” 

“I would have to agree with you,” Violet smiled. “Do you work well under pressure? I wouldn’t say it is a constant with this position, but it definitely has its moments.” 

“I have been known to be able to deliver the desired results within whatever time frame I’m given,” you nodded your head. “I’ve always been a very meticulous person, I find it often comes to my advantage in a workplace setting.” 

Violet skimmed through her papers and as she did so she asked, “Do you have any questions for me?” 

“A few, actually,” you adjusted your seating slightly. “I was wondering if you might tell me a little more of what the day to day looks like?”

“Great question,” Violet nodded. “Similar to your work with the holding company, we will have investments that need to be managed and stocks that need to be watched over. My family and I have also started a few charities that will need to be looked over and, along with those, come plans for budgets and expenses. It is more so the bigger picture and making sure everyone working on those is doing their job properly, think of it as quality control.” 

“Is there anyone I will be working closely with?” you asked. 

“Yes, me actually,” Violet nodded. “And my eldest son Anthony once he returns from visiting his wife’s family in India.” 

You tried to hide your surprise, but it did not go unnoticed by the seasoned socialite. 

“You’re surprised,” she said, reading your expression quite plainly. 

“A little,” you admitted. “I was told typically families of your standing aren’t particularly involved with these sorts of things. Mostly posing for the camera while others do things behind the scenes.” 

“I can see where you’re coming from, but I assure you that is not the Bridgerton way,” Violet chuckled. “My husband studied business specifically so that he could change the way we did things here. Edmund never wanted the family’s money only to be used for show, he wanted it to have meaning, especially knowing our country’s history of taking things that do not belong to it. In a way, I suppose he wanted to give it back while still ensuring his family could have a good, comfortable life.” 

You hummed thoughtfully, a smile gracing your lips, and Violet could sense you were impressed. 

“I take it you agreed with your husband?” 

Violet nodded her head, “Why do you think I went back to school in my forties?” 

“Mrs. Bridgerton, you are full of surprises,” you laughed. 

“Violet, please,” she reminded you. “I try to be. That’s how I prefer it.” 

She asked you a few more questions, a few situational problems so she could get a sense of your style of working. You had an inkling things were going well, but you didn’t realize how well until the interview was over and you were preparing to leave. 

“So, when can you start?” Violet asked. 

A little taken aback, you took a moment to think about it before looking back at her with an excited smile. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Perfect,” she let out the breath of air she had been holding and patted her hands on her legs. “We have a lot of work to do.” 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[lachiennearoo]

It feels sometimes like I'm living in a crazy world. It's so frustrating to me, to feel so much that I am right yet most people I encounter act like I'm insane;

I'll give you guys some context;

As we all know, I'm a huge Deadpool fan. And that means I follow a lot of stuff related to the media.

And recently I made a comment on Threads complimenting the stunt work in the new movie, saying "I'm a pacifist, but the way the action scenes in Deadpool are shot makes violence look sexy as fuck". Y'know just a funny little joke, what have you.

And then... Some person (probably a lady by the way they talked) replied to me and said basically that she watched the movies with her 11 year old kid.

And well y'know, I was concerned. Because all the Deadpool movies are rated R. So they're adult-oriented, made for adult audiences, with nudity and sex and gore and violence and swearing...

And I told her that. And the lady just started getting mad like "oh you don't know me or my family" and "he's very grown up for his age" and "it's just a movie it's not a big deal".

Like... Fuck, man. I've been in the adult industry for years now. I've encountered minors who have been raised on unadulterated violence and sex and all that shit. Kids whose parents didn't think it was a big deal and vehiculated that idea to their children.

And yeah sure, sometimes it doesn't do anything to the kid. But sometimes it does, and then we, the adult content creators, are the ones having to deal with that shit.

Of minors posting comments under our posts, talking about our work, hell I even had some try to get free art or flirt with me, knowing I was an adult and they weren't.

Or minors making their own adult art and sharing it online, and then of course getting mad when told it was dangerous and saying "it's not a big deal" and whatnot.

This is how it starts. Being surrounded by people who enable that behavior. Yes, even if it's "just a movie" and "there are worst things out there".

The risk is real.

I actually made a comparison in the argument with that lady with seatbelts, because with cars, plenty of people will never experience a crash and be fine their own lives, and yet seatbelts are still heavily pushed because they are a safe method in case something happens. And people who scoff at seatbelts and say they're useless are usually looked down upon because they're actively ignoring risks associated to piloting a car without any safety measures.

And that's the same thing here

Oh wait, and it's not over yet

Because THEN, during the argument, the lady brought up an article about how Ryan Reynolds showed his 9yo daughter his new movie (Deadpool 3). And I just... Feel so disappointed.

I assume the lady showed me the article to "prove her point" but instead all it did was just make me feel even worse because not even the fucking lead actor of an adult movie cares about this shit

And it sucks

I'm just... So tired. Of everything...

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

No, but it does give you back some control, Kaz. Which honestly is an understandable feeling to want to have. But thinking about it, what’s gotta be worse than being both grounded-and in excruciating pain with much less function than he had previously?

Loss of control.

Even if I go with my headcanon of the capture being an organized thing between himself and Ocelot-that doesn’t mitigate it being traumatic or bad.

(Which obviously, is just a headcanon/theory: nothing I say in any of these posts is 100% proven canonically, this is just my own thoughts after all from context we receive within the game).

Anyway.

Taking aside the other factors (artificial limbs aren’t a guarantee that it makes things better, or easier. Extra weight, difficulties etc) thinking of the kind of personality Kaz has; that of a high-strung man eager to find his place and exert power over others (and if not power, then something akin to it, or mingled with other elements) a core element in that is control.

Being the one in charge. Someone who has enough of a position of authority to exert his will unto others. Whether that word comes from himself or Snake, he’s at the helm somehow.

After Kaz is rescued, he’s open about exactly how he’s feeling-

And honestly, a single look at himself, or even just how much pain he has got to be in on a day-to-day basis would tell him that he really doesn’t need to focus on that in order to remember. Frankly, I think he’d have a much harder time forgetting. After all, it’s been 9 years since the attack, and he’s still fueled so strongly by hate and revenge that it’s on his mind 24/7. Nothing else occurs to him, ever.

Angry enough that even after weeks in captivity, he’s fuming and chomping at the bit to get going again.

Sir the only thing you should be right now is unconscious.

But there is really only so much vulnerability a single person can take. Let alone someone like him.

Kicks help away.

If he’s in pain, it’s more than just a reminder. It serves as the one thing he has left to master. To be in charge of. Pain meds wouldn’t take all of it away. But it would ease it. Bionics wouldn’t take all of it away, but it might (or might not) help him. If he says ‘no’ to all of this, then he’s the one with the final say. Logically, it doesn’t make the most sense. After all, you can’t think or function properly in pain the way you could out of it.

Believe me I know.

I rely on aids myself, from time to time. I was a daily cane user for most of university.

A wheelchair for another trip. 

And there’s absolutely an argument to be made, that if he did take assistance. Help. That if he did get himself in less pain then he’d actually be exerting more control in the situation because now he’s the one that’s got a handle on it. He’s the one that took it back and brought it back to himself. Into a place where it no longer dominates him, but he dominates it.

But the longer he’s in pain, the angrier he can stay. Not to mention it provides an excuse for the anger. Now he’s not just in control of himself (so he thinks anyway, I’d argue the point with him myself if he was a living thing I could speak too) but kept mad and spitting. Mad enough to kill Skull Face, mad enough to keep going and going. Fueling his fire with self grown coals.

Because without that pain, that anger. Also comes loss.

Grief is one of the central themes to MGSV (a whole other post to be honest).  Grief and anger often times go hand and hand. Kaz isn’t a good person with good morals at the end of the day. A man who was so eternally displaced with his position in the world from the day of his birth, and really until his death that his solution was things like nation states and war economies. But you don’t have to be a good person, or a saint, to have been wronged in some fashion.

He's never been shy about admitting exactly what kind of person he is (in this regard, anyway)

And is there not, end of day, a large element of control rooted in things like this?

These are the sorts of ideologies Kaz holds: in his own words.

Like this:

Or this.

His lead, and Kaz's. (Since it's Kaz talking here that is not what is outright stated, but it's clear enough what Kaz might want, within these situations).

(One could also argue this is just morally corrupt people taking care of other morally corrupt people but that’d be a derailment. Another post would have to delve into that as well).

When he lost everything-his home, his limbs, he lost key elements of his control that he worked so brutally to build. Whatever scrap of it he can cling to and maintain, he will.

Obviously, Kaz is in a different place (and undoubtedly frame of mind by the 90’s) but in the 80’s, he’s holding strong to pain, grief, anger, and loss. Because if he lets go of the things that keep him fueled and furious, then all that’s left is all-encompassing grief.

And that must feel a whole lot harder to deal with to him (I’d think anyway) than being raging and fuming.

[idonotwanttogrowupbitch]

Rodrick dating his opposite (i'm obsessed with this man, this isn't sane anymore)

Under the same context of the best friends to lovers post, you met because a teacher brought you together to do a project and then Rodrick hated you with his soul, you were too tidy, too responsible and too strict and he hated that, so he kindly decided to go on the road to bother you and make your life miserable for the rest of elementary school.

In high school when you were about 13 he played a joke on you that got a little (too) out of hand, he decided it was a good idea to start a rumor that you had touched that stinky cheese that was in the corner of the basketball court (yes he threw it and passed it around questionable places to make it even more disgusting) and then everyone started to reject you and it got to you, you knew Rodrick had done it so you reported him to your parents, you went to the principal and there the principal told you that from now on you had to get along (she had seen you since you were 5 fighting and she was fed up) and actually it worked.

At the beginning the interaction was a bit forced but you discovered that in spite of being opposite personalities and styles you had things in common and with time you became good friends, even inseparable, the director was very proud and susan was more than happy.

You learned to overcome your personalities, actually you both liked a lot of things that coincided, amusement parks, video games and all that, you really stayed together a lot but after a while you forced Rodrick to do his homework and even though he made a bad face he had made a deal with you.

He started to like you, a lot, when he spent so much time with you he realized that you were great and that he wanted you to be his girlfriend in the future, he actually said with a smile "I'll marry her when I grow up" every time you did him a favor or made him feel good, and even though you saw it as a game Rodrick started to like you without you realizing it.

Once you kissed (an awkward, short and uncomfortable kiss) just to taste the world of grown-ups and in the end you both ended up giving each other a good blow, first legendary kiss. "have you ever kissed anyone?" "no Rodrick, that's disgusting" "haha dummie.. …. do you want to try?" "yuck……okey"

As you got older you liked each other more and more, and then one day you told Rodrick how you felt about it and after a long silence he rushed up to you and kissed you (awkwardly of course, but romantic in Rodrick's way).

Greg loves you, this kid got attached to you like gum as soon as you became friends with his brother, always trying to get you to play video games with him, it's not like he likes you or anything but he really sees you as just another friend.

Rodrick is surprisingly corny, but only when you're in private. He loves cuddling with you he really loves it, once he hugs you you know you won't come out of there for at least 2 hours, he gives you kisses and cuddles up to you and puts his head in the crook of your neck, it's really cute when he gets all soft and whispers really nice things (I live for this Rodrick headcanon I created myself) he has written songs for you, or tried to, and plans one day to perform them with the band for you

i know i promise the best friends to lovers pt 2 but this come to my mind and i HAVE to write it down

[legacygirlingreen]

Christmas with the Sallow Family: Chapter 1 // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Dusty Boots

By: LegacyGirlinGreen

Summary:

The Slythering trio make their way to feldcroft where Sebastian and the new student struggle with their growing affections and where it may lead…

Word Count: 6,000 +

Notes:

This is a continuation of another story, so to gain more context read part 1, titled “Becoming a Proper Gentleman” (linked below)

This work contains some kissing, along with mentions of sexually impure thoughts. Nothing beyond what teenagers are normally thinking but read at your disgression. Also, like the last part, it diverts from Canon, using the characters and situations as foundations. Very little use of y/n!

Chapter 1: Dusty Boots

Anne was waiting by the town’s communal Floo for them when they arrived. Immediately she jumped for his female companion, as in the few months, she had grown to adore the girl. It warmed Sebastian’s heart seeing his sister getting along with any girl - since Anne’s somewhat Tom boy nature was off putting to most of their female classmates - but seeing her with his girl meant the world. Anne even went as far as to threaten him when they were all there for Thanksgiving, warning if he screwed things up that she would help to hide his body herself. So much for twin love and support. He heard Anne comment about how the blue color of the best style corset really brought out the color of her eyes.

Ominis quickly cut in front of Sebastian, stealing his sister’s affection before he got the chance as he huffed in response. Didn’t these people know without him they wouldn’t even know her? Why was it that he seemed to be the last in line for her attention?

Eventually Anne stopped musing over how Ominis had seemingly developed a new mole on his right cheek and turned to her brother. “Sebastian! Your hair!” She called out, immediately reaching to playful tousle it. His twins slender fingers immediately brushed through the now short sides of his hair. Before she got too far he stopped her saying “oh shut it will you, its just a haircut Anne” trying to sound casual given the small crowd of their neighbors that had accumulated due to his sister’s loud shriek moments before. The small hamlet often worried for the girls health as everyone in Feldcroft was quite close.

Anne was one of the few people who knew it wasn’t that simple for him. He simply figured if she was going to talk about it, he would make her wait till the others had gone to bed. Anne soon found herself wrapped in her now much taller twin’s arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. She smelled the newer cologne he had taken to wearing as it mixed with the smell of the soap they always had at Hogwarts. Anne couldn’t help but smile as she caught a brief whiff of the girls perfume lingering on his frame, letting her know recently the girl had been wrapped in her brother’s arms. She was proud of him.

Removing herself, Anne pulled back to simply cup Sebastian’s cheek in her palm. “You look so much like Dad” she whispered out, a slightly sorrowful look in her eye paired with the small smile she was developing. It was bittersweet, but they both knew she meant it with only the kindest of intentions. As he aged, it wasn’t far fetched to imagine that he could take on the appearance of the deceased Sallow patriarch, but to assign that to himself felt odd.

Sebastian had wondered as his chubby cheeks and wide eyes of boyhood were slowly being shed as he developed into a man, where his father and mother remained. His own brown eyes and sly smile being the mark of his father, and unavoidable to not see the comparison when looking in a mirror. His unruly locks and his sea of freckles came from his mother. Beyond that Sebastian tried not to linger on how the shape of his nose or jaw were slowly changing as he grew into more and more an image of his departed dad. Hearing Ann confirm something he often wondered about made him stand up straighter.

Anne quickly walked away from him, and laced arms with the girl, before forcing them all over to the small home. In the back yard was a tent the 4 students to share over break. While Solomon didn’t exactly love the thoughts of his nephew and the new girl sleeping under the same roof, he hoped that his nephew would never dare attempt something inappropriate while his sister or Ominis were around. Plus if he had to hear their late night chatter like he had over Thanksgiving, he would pull his ears off.

As they placed their stuff inside the tent he stood beside Ominis who was intently listening in on the conversation between his flame and Anne as they joined forces to make the tent more livable for the next few weeks. Ominis laughed and the girls, seemingly unaware to him listening, continued on. “Anything interesting?” Sebastian questioned, curious about their conversation, and willing to use his friend’s impeccable hearing to gain insight.

“They are talking about how much older you look with short hair, along with what things it’s doing to our new friend,” Ominis told Sebastian with a chuckle.

Sebastian felt warmth behind his tanned cheeks and he pressed Ominis what that meant by asking, “What it’s doing to her?”

Ominis’s face maintained its amused expression as he explained what he overheard the girls whispering about: “apparently its making our fellow Slytherin weak in the knees since she wants to spend all day running her hands through it”. He emphasized the direct quotes with a dramatized voice.

Sebastian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the warmth in his face rush elsewhere. He couldn’t stop his post-pubescent brain from filling his mind with images of her actually on her knees in front of him. He immediately forced himself to think of the librarian of Hogwarts to prevent himself from developing difficult to hide signs of where his mind traveled. Quickly he recovered and responded to Ominis.

“It’s a shame you’re blind Ominis, I am sure if you had the ability to see you too would be weak in the knees” Sebastian quipped.

“I don’t need vision to know that despite a step in the right direction Sallow, my hair will remain impeccable while yours is merely suitable” he responded with a laugh.

“Oh you wound me Gaunt. It’s not my fault the ladies find me irresistible.” Sebastian was happy to have moments like this with his friend, especially since as of late they had been few and far between. That sentiment was short lived however, as Ominis caught him off guard with his reply.

“Ah yes, and am I supposed to ignore which of us got up for a cold shower before anyone was awake this morning”

Sebastian hated how on the nose his friend’s perception was. He truly had no response to give the blond boy. He sheepishly ran a hand up the back of his neck. He felt ashamed, worried that his attempts at being proper squandered in the eyes of his fellow Slytherin and oldest friend.

Ominis laughed at his friend’s discomfort. When he realized Sebastian hadn’t responded Ominis was worried he may have offended his friend, deciding to put a reassuring hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, eager to shift the conversation to a much lighter place. “You may be aware I know very little of what our friend looks like, but given the whispers I hear about the castle, I can imagine whatever… feelings you may be having to be quite natural…”

Sebastian appreciated his friends acceptance of his less than savory thoughts that the blind boy seems to have noticed recently. It wasn’t as if he purposefully dwelled on them either, they just came and went on occasion. Maybe it was the hormones which he had no control over, or a deepening of feelings leading to a place he couldn’t quite understand, but he found his free time now consumed almost entirely of thoughts of her.

Some of them normal, such as simply wandering the halls, attending classes or getting butter beer. Times when they would laugh and mock one another all in good fun. Others were more personal, like their time spend in the vivarium when she would carefully ruffle his hair or he would trace unconscious patterns on the back of her hand as they read in silence. Those precious moments were they both felt entirely comfortable with each other, that gave him hopes of coming home to a peaceful house where they could both enjoy evenings snuggled up together in front of the fire. And while a majority of his thoughts lended towards those avenues, the rest were… less than proper. As time went on, their pecks tended to linger. They shifted into places like his earlobe or the nape of her neck - a spot he found entirely on accident laying in their meadow against a tree one afternoon.

He was sitting upright with his back against the tree, her coming to rest in front of him. As she pointed to something in the book she’d been skimming, he moved the hair off her should to avoid getting a mouthful, as she often would bob her head a lot when excited. Only then did Sebastian find himself staring directly at the delicate nape of her neck, unable to stop himself from placing a small kiss to the soft skin. She had let out a quiet sound, somewhat akin to a moan and a gasp at the contact. From that moment on he found his trousers slightly tighter at the thought of hearing her make that sound again…

The brunette let his eyes wander to where y/n was helping Anne make one of their beds in the corner. He sighed before returning his attention to his oldest friend. “She’s stunning Ominis. Truly.”

Sebastian had never once for a moment pitied the boy’s inability to see, yet for once he did feel sorry the boy would never know how beautiful the girl he cared for so deeply was both inside and out.

He knew Ominis would never be able to appreciate the way she moved with grace, or how her smile could knock a man out. Ominis couldn’t help but notice the shift in Sebastian’s tone. Immediately he had noticed the semi small lump that developed as the boy’s voice trailed off like a man in the desert, desperate for water. Ominis had never experienced real love in his life. His parents, along with majority of his family, were in arranged marriages to keep the bloodlines pure. He never got a chance to meet Sebastian’s parent, and the Twin’s uncle had never attempted to be wed. Most of the professors at Hogwarts kept their personal lives hidden from the students. Despite this he had become very familiar with the words of poets, describing such feelings. Much like Anne, Ominis was happy Sebastian seemed to have finally met his match in the new 5th year…

Describe her to me.

Sebastian almost hadn’t heard Ominis’s reply as he’d been too busy watching her and his sister again. When his gaze shifted back towards the boy he had grown up with, he tried to ponder how exactly to describe the girl without Ominis’s ability to see. He stepped closer, almost embarrassed if the girls were to overhear, as he slowly began to give his sightless friend a picture of the girl he had fallen for.

“She has the most amazing eyes you have ever seen. There’s always a million emotions just brimming under their surface. When I first met her that day in the common room at the start of term I watched them closely. Interest, Confusion, Ambition, Mischief, Eagerness, Excitement, Worry, Attraction… they were all right there. And her eyes are so big, full of wonder for all these things we take for granted. It’s truly amazing to see someone whose eyes are so expressive. I love getting to show her things we have already learned of or know of, since she comes at those things with new eyes full of amazement.

She gets this crinkle in her nose often. Right across the bridge of her nose, but whenever she laughs, quirks an eyebrow, is disgusted, its there and it is cuter than a baby puffskin.

You really should watch her twist her her into one of the elaborate braids she usually sports. They are truly incredible, and her fingers move so effortlessly out of muscle memory. Yet, as brilliant as they are, simply seeing those beautiful locks of hair sweeping across her shoulders is enough to knock the wind out of you. Like a nymph from the forest or a siren of the seas.

I love watching her duel. Her body moves with the grace of a dancer, I half wonder if she had been one before coming to hogwarts because there is no way one can move that way and not have spent time practicing dance. She is fearsome, and elegant and powerful in ever way you can imagine. Her face remains calm yet determined. Her strikes calculated yet seem without effort.

Still, my favorite thing about her, are her hands. They are small, and over the course of the year have become a tad more calloused from holding a wand or flying with Imelda but they hold a delicacy despite the power they contain. She has a few scars scattered along her hands. Her fingers are so nimble and ever time I get the chance to hold them in my own, I… “

Sebastian heard a small intake of breath. His gaze shifted away from describing her to Ominis, eyes locking with the girl as he felt the need to continue his words with confidence for her to hear. “I feel as if everything in the world is falling into place.”

For a brief moment Ominis and Anne were no were to be seen or heard. It was just the two of them in the world. She took a few steps towards him and he found his feet dragging him to meet her in the middle. He immediately brought her hands into his own, fingers intertwined.

Sebastian leaned down, brushing a loose strand of her hair out of her face, and for a moment she was worried he was going to kiss her in front of their friend and his sister. Instead he whispered in her ear “You are slowly becoming my favorite thing in this world”.

unable to speak, she had just moments before been so preoccupied with his sister and catching up, and now she felt as if all the air had left her lungs. She simply squeezed his warm hand with her own, running her thumb across the back of it as she tried to make the words she had screaming in her head leave her mouth.

Just as she attempted to make her reply known, Solomon called out for Anne to come back inside. She took a slight step back from Sebastian, releasing his hand. Ominis had held out an arm towards Anne as they left the tent with hast and Sebastian held his out for her. He felt more of the warmth from her fingers wrapping around his upper arm, as his lack of a thick wool suit provided closer contact between her fingers and his bicep.

The four teens migrated back to the front yard and towards the cottage. Just before entering he felt her stall for a brief moment. Her hand lifted to help tuck his forelock back in place, before they stepped through the open door behind Ominis and Anne.

“Thank you as always Mr. Sallow for allowing me to stay in your family home.” Sebastian heard Ominis say to his uncle. Ominis was always good at minding his manners despite not particularly loving the twin’s guardian. It most likely stemmed from growing up in the Gaunt household, with their higher class and reputation in the wizarding world necessary to maintain. Ominis himself had often found it hard to ditch the lessons he had from their families strict educators.

“Of course Gaunt, there’s always a place in this home for those who have need for it, speaking of which…” Solomon trailed off looking for the girl and Sebastian as his eyes landed on the pair. He couldn’t help but notice how comfortable they had slowly acclimated to his nephew properly escorting her around. He wasn’t a fool, nor was he oblivious to the way their fingers brushed together under his dining table, or how they both let their eyes linger on each other. Yet, despite his qualms with his extremely hot-headed nephew, it was a comforting thought that some day, perhaps not too far away, he would have someone kind and gentle to come home to every night.

Solomon had half expected Sebastian to completely ignore his demand to tame his ridiculous hair, however he was pleasantly surprised as his eyes landed on a groomed and much more mature looking young man. Not only was his hair actually kept, Sebastian actually seemed okay with the change, not slumping or sulking as he had figured.

“Ah, I have to hand it to you, the way you are shaping my nephew into a fine young man is incredible to say the least.” Solomon said to her as he now stood directly in front of the pair. Sebastian briefly felt anger surge through him, as if he wasn’t capable of learning how to be a gentleman without help. He suddenly calmed as he felt her thumb softly stroke the inside of his bicep as she responded to his Uncle.

“Actually Mr. Sallow, I believe Sebastian to have been doing a fine job of that himself. He has received no additional encouragement from myself. If you are to be proud of anyone, it should be him alone. I know that I am proud to stand at his side.”

Sebastian stood up straighter at her words. He felt confidence shoot through his veins at her confirmation that he, a growing young man and proper gentlemen was both recognized and respected in her eyes. She was willing to stand in front of his uncle and defend his honor in such a way. That meant everything to him.

Solomon turned his attention from the young woman to his nephew, taking in the stark contrast from the boy he’d sent to Hogwarts in September to the young man who stood here now. It was incredible how a few months could change so much. Mr. Sallow awkwardly coughed, realizing he was in the wrong.

“I suppose you are right lass. Sebastian…” he trailed off as he found himself no longer looking down at the boy, instead staring directly into his eyes. So much like his father, especially his brown eyes. “I am pleased with the changes I have seen thus far. You are making your father proud boy”. Solomon held out a hand towards Sebastian and he gripped it with all the unspoken words from the last few years.

Sebastian could never have imagined that his Uncle would mutter such kind words to him, especially in regards to how much he had grown up. And while it meant so much to feel as if the years of being at each other’s throats was slowly coming to a close, he wanted out of a situation with 3 sets of eyes on them. He refused to show emotion in front of them, for fear the words his uncle said would be quickly revoked.

“Sebastian you should show her around the town since she still has yet to meet everyone” Anne called from across the room breaking the tension. He simply nodded, half dragging, half walking the girl out of the house as quickly as possible. He refused to make eye contact with any of them as he did so.

As soon as they made it outside he felt the air slowly returning to his lungs. “Sometimes he can be a right foul git you know that?” He said, turning his attention towards the girl. She nodded, rubbing her hand up and down his arm comfortingly.

“At the end of the day, while I am not sure I truly want his respect, its comforting to know I have it I guess.” Sebastian looked at their shoes. His worn boots would soon need to be cleaned, re-polished and waxed. Her tan boots were laced up all the way to her knees next to his.

“We don’t have to dwell on your Uncle, lets just try and enjoy the afternoon.” Her voice spoke calmly and reassuringly. He found himself nodding at her words, deciding he shouldn’t let it ruin his time. He was curious of one thing however…

“Did you mean it?” He asked her, his hand coming to meet where hers was resting on his upper arm.

“Mean what?” She asked, confused what he had been referring to.

“The part about being proud to stand at my side?” He asked, bringing her fingers to thread in his own as his brown eyes met hers.

“There is not another person in the world who I would rather stand beside.” She said, her words confident. Her eyes not breaking from his.

“Then I shall remain beside you until the day you no longer wish to have me.” He said, unsure how much she would read into the depth of his words.

“I fear that day may never come” she whispered out, eyes still locked on his.

“Then so be it.” He said, leaning in and allowing his lips to ghost over her cheek. He allowed them to linger, far longer than he should have, as every voice in his head was screaming to move over slightly to the left, and allow himself the indulgence of claiming her mouth with his. He did restrain himself, deciding that he wanted that moment to be completely on his terms, special, and not to mention private.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead along the top of her head, inhaling her lightly floral scent. “I thought you were going to show me the rest of the hamlet” She asked quietly.

“Show you the village? You mean show you off to the village.” He said cheekily.

“Ah yes, every little girls dream… to be carted around like a prize show horse to see. How romantic Sebastian.” She may have retorted with sarcasm and an eye roll but the smile on her face was evident she held no issue with his words

“Show horse? I was imagining more like a calf or…” She didn’t allow him to finish the words before she smacked his arm playfully.

“Oh you’re going to regret that Sallow.” She said with mild irritation in her voice.

“How so?” He asked with a laugh at her feigning annoyance. She hadn’t thought that far ahead…

“Mhm, see I knew you couldn’t be truly mad at me. I apologize for likening you to farm animals my dear.” He responded at her lack of an answer.

“Oh sure, its easy to apologize when threatened…” she grumped out.

Sebastian couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at her grumpy mood. He moved her back into the crux of his elbow holding his head high as he told her “You make it so easy to get under your skin Darling…” His eyes stared straight into hers, almost eating the girl alive.

The way his voice trailed off might’ve been concerning but she brushed it off. They had slowly been developing more moments of quips that turned into desire. While the thought of it should’ve deeply troubled her, she found very little ability to worry where those feelings may lead. Perhaps it was the semi-urgency she felt as her world became more and more dangerous daily, or seeing his sister withering away driving them both into adulthood at a rapidly alarming rate. However, she refused to allow the young man to get a rise out of her in the open field. Especially given her inability to draw the line at what he considered playful and what was his manhood slowly become untamed…

“Moo” she found herself letting out the animal noise. Immediately his loud laugh echoed through the air. He pulled her tighter into his side as his head was thrown back at her antics.

“Ah, my little Heifer…” He choked out somewhere between his laughing fits. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at a very rare genuine laugh coming from the boy.

“You are to never call me that ever again, is that understood”.

Sebastian pulled her back to his side as he slowly started taking steps away from his home, “Oh but come on, you have to admit it would be such a unique pet name”.

She immediately shook her head in horror of the thought he would lovingly call her a sexually mature cow with endearment.

“Well if not Heifer, what should I call you?” He asked her as they started the loop through Feldcroft.

“Ask me again some other time, and for now keep anything with 4 legs out of contention” she retorted.

“So that leaves those with 8 in the running I see. How about my little arachnid” She laughed at his antics as they began approaching some of his neighbors as her words continued to rage in his head.

I fear that day may never come.

_________________________________________

“No, no that’s not at all what happened…” Sebastian let out with a groan of frustration. His sister and his friend had seemingly made it their lives goal to embarrass him in front of his companion and he was beginning to grow tired of their antics. He abruptly moved from the fire in the center of the tent, walking into the side room him and Ominis were to share.

���I fear we have embarrassed my poor brother” Anne said with a joint laugh between herself and Ominis. The afternoon had come and gone, with the boys helping Solomon outside for most of the day as the girls stayed in and cooked. Dinner came and went fairly uneventful before Solomon shooed the teens out of the house as their loud conversations were beginning to cause him grief. As they had settled in by the small fire in the center, Anne and Ominis quickly ganged up on him by sharing his less than proud moments with the girl he was growing to hold dear.

At first she was amused at learning memories the trio had shared. However, as time went on she began to notice from across the flames as his face into annoyance. When he left abruptly it concerned her. She turned towards Anne and simply muttered “I shall be right back, I am going to check on him”.

“My brother tends to get hotheaded from time to time, I am sure he is fine” Anne told the girl but she shook her head as if to say please allow us privacy. Anne did not say a word, nor did Ominis as the girl followed the direction Sebastian had gone. While Solomon had assumed Sebastian’s sister and friend would keep complete eyes on the young couple, he failed to realize they too were teenagers who would also enjoy a moment alone…

When she lifted the small flap that separated the side room from the main room she wasn’t expecting to see Sebastian laying on his back on the bed she had made that morning. His eyes were trained to the ceiling.

“You know your boots are going to make a mess of the bed I made” she said, coming to stand at the bedside.

He shrugged as his comfort in the position made him not want to remove the dirt covered shoes. As much as she wanted nothing more than to lay next to him, she worried with the close proximity of his sister, their friend, and even his uncle it to be unwise. The pair had never both laid next to each other before, only one at a time laying as the other kept distance.

She opted to move towards the foot of the bed, taking a seat next to his feet. She noted how his eyes had followed her as she moved. His eyebrow quirked as if to ask what she was doing. She decided to not reply as she slowly began to unlace the boot closest to her. He watched as her nibble fingers made quick work of the laces. She quickly repeated the process on his other shoe. Before he could object she was pulling them off of his feet. Sebastian was genuinely concerned at how bad they may have smelled given how much time he had spent outside today. If they did, she surely didn’t say anything.

He was expecting that to be the end of her motivation. The dirty shoes were off the bed after all. She didn’t say anything as she held on in her lap, reaching inside the never ending pouch she kept attached to her hip. She produced a small stiff brush and began slowly removing the dirt from the toe of his boot. Sebastian sat up and went to reach for his worn leather soles, “hey, you don’t have to do that” he said to her, still attempting to grab them out of her hands.

She shook her head at him, eyes trained on the worn soles of his boots to avoid looking at him. She continued to work at scuffing them out. She truly shouldn’t have followed him into a private area and begun undressing him. While she was deeply concerned he would read into the action, she found she wasn’t regretting it.

“That’s not your job Sweetheart.” Sebastian fully pushed his weight to the end of the bed, his long legs draping off the edges as his feet came to touch the floor. Now that he was beside her, his thigh pressed into hers. He set his hand on top of hers, to stop her actions.

“I really don’t mind dear… I” her words trailed off as Sebastian stroked his thumb against hers. She couldn’t stop the way her fingers slowly started to shake.

“You’re trembling” he said it so matter of factly despite his words coming out as a whisper.

“It would appear that I am” she said, hoping if she owned up to it, she could blame it on the cold and he would drop the issue.

“You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” He said with a drop in his voice. Shesaw his eyes trained on the floor.

“Of course I know that.” She said, upset he would think otherwise.

“I would also never intentionally do anything to rob your honor.” He said finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. Her breath faltered at his candor.

“I… I know that Sebastian. I trust you, fully.” As she emphasized the last work his fingers curled into hers.

“I will admit, it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain my propriety when I am around you…” his words trailed off as her eyes bore into his own. He tried to force his away. Sebastian slowly felt the voice of self control to be melting away as her y/e/c orbs stared back at him.

“I fear that I may do something improper. You put your trust in me, and I worry that may lead me to a place that disgraces your virtue.” Sebastian found himself being honest with her. While the admission may have been completely forward, he knew ultimately he could trust her. The feelings he had were slowly becoming too strong to bear.

“I fear that I may wish for you to do so” she whispered out. She had been terrified as his admissions were leading to a swelling in the pits of her stomach. She should have had more tact in her words, but the hovering feeling in the air, and his hand on hers, was making it difficult to think straight.

Sebastian blinked rapidly at her admission of also having impure thoughts towards him. The tremors in her fingers seem to spread throughout her body, as his thigh felt hers slowly shaking against him. While he knew they should both be terrified at her admission, they were already crossing boundaries. What more harm could it do to remind her the implications of what she spoke “And if I were to do as such, you would be forced to remain with me.”

“I see no fault in that fact.” She truly needed to stop talking. They were still at least a year away from being done with school. To discuss such matters without her father present were more than likely shameful, but she couldn’t stop the admission.

“If that were to happen, where would that lead you missy?” Sebastian felt himself leaning into the girl. His face was so close to hers that he could see the way the sun had left small freckles on the skin below her eyes. He could count the long eyelashes framing her eyes. He could feel her slow outtake of breath on his face. He could see the way her lips had parted before he quickly drug his eyes back up to hers. She noticed where his gaze had slipped. He lifted his hand to her chin, holding her there anxiously awaiting her reply.

It would lead me to a long and joyful life as Mrs. Sebastian Sallow...

His mouth was immediately on hers. Sebastian had occasionally wondered what it would feel like to have another’s mouth on his own. As her rose petal lips made contact with his, he realized what he had been missing out on. The soft pull of her mouth on his, providing such a lovely sensation. While she kept her mouth mostly closed, he still enjoyed the way her lips were creating the slightest amount of suction on his own. It was like all the missing parts were coming together and for the first time in his life he felt whole.

She felt her body react in shock as he had claimed her lips, but it didn’t take long for that power in her body that knew what was happening to take over. She allowed him to pull her closer to him with an arm he had snaked around her small waist. Her own hands coming up to hold him closer: one landing on his chest and the other at the nape of his neck. She quickly tangled her hands in his short hair, running her fingernails over his scalp. Sebastian was unable to stop the slight groan that left his lips and went straight into her mouth at the contact.

While he had initially allowed their first kiss to be rushed by soft, he was slowly gaining a momentum. The hunger in his stomach only grew with ever pass of his lips on hers. He pulled back, only for a moment to see her slowly gaze at him with hooded eyes. Her lips were parted from his own ministrations and he couldn’t help but notice the way her cheeks were dusted pink. She looked absolutely adorable with her mind seemingly far way and only her mild dishevel appearance looking back at him. Then her words came rushing back to him. Mrs. Sebastian Sallow. He pulled her back in with ferocity.

He wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to be dominated by the thoughts of her carrying his name. While he understood that courtship led to engagement, with engagement leading to marriage, he hadn’t truly seen the progression as a real thing until this moment. In his head it always was far away, a future endeavor, yet right now that forever was starting to feel closer. He wanted it. He wanted her.

She slowly pulled back from him, noting the devilish grin growing on his slightly swollen lips. Her one hand were still tangled in his hair while he lifted one of his own to claim the one she had situated on his chest. He lifted it, placing a kiss on her ring finger before holding it close to him. Sebastian was slowly relaxing as her nails scratched his head. He felt lightheaded at how wonderful it felt to hold her close, to have kissed her, to imagine a future where he could place a ring on her hand.

Sebastian sighed before saying “I think I know what you mean about what my hair has to offer now” with a soft laugh.

She allowed him a slight stifled laugh at the remembrance of her late night confession. “This is along the lines of what I was referring to, however, not exactly what I meant”

“What more could you do?” He asked leaning back in, ready to continue their time together. She brought her open hand, threading her fingers in his hair before carefully tightening a fist as she pulled his hair. Sebastian let out an almost feral groan and instantly became aware of how tight his pants were becoming. He shifted back from her, his hand reaching around his neck to where she had just pulled his brown locks in such a manor.

“Where… where did you learn that?” He asked her, quite unsure how the inexperienced girl knew how to immediately turn him into a mess.

“The restricted section has, other material you know…” her voice trailing off suggestively.

He pulled her back to his side, hand holding her cheek before leaning his forehead against y/n’s. “You, my darling, are a minx”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it Sallow” she said rolling her eyes, not moving against him.

“Oh I most certainly do”. He said it with such conviction it made her nerves swell.

”They are being awfully quite in there…” she trailed off remembering Anne and Ominis had been left in the main area. Sebastian laughed at her recognition.

“I imagine they have found themselves in a quite similar situation.” He said with a chuckle.

She gasped before saying “Anne… and Ominis? They?” Looking at the flap almost ready to barge in on the pair.

”It’s a fairly recent development I believe, but I have my suspicions.” He had a feeling about it around Thanksgiving when he caught Ominis pressing a slight kiss to the side of Anne’s face as they were heading back to school. When he inquired however, Ominis was quick to deny everything.

“I can’t believe it. Right under our noses” She said still sounding dumbfounded.

“Well, they aren’t nearly as far along as the two of us, I know that.” He said, fingers tangling back with hers as he drug her closer again.

“And how do you know that?” She asked him, eyebrow quirking, unaware of his intention for pulling her close.

”Because I am not afraid to admit or act on my feelings for you” Sebastian whispered before he pulled her mouth back to his.

To Be Continued…

Notes:

Thank you again for reading! I did not spend as much time double checking the editing but I wanted to get it out for those who were interested. If there’s any grammatical mistakes I apologize and I will get on them shortly! See you in the next chapter and as always feel free to leave suggestions!

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Emerging

Wow stumpy - another Flood fic? Yes I like imagery and prose. Title from the song off the album Moon Colony Bloodbath about organ harvesting colonies on the moon. It fits.

Flood POV of "Something Has Happened" from Tales from Slipspace.

-

Hunger moves the body forward. Hunger and loneliness. It - they - need more. Too much energy to think, not enough mass yet. Instinct drives them towards the incubators - cryo tubes, the host brain provides. Context is meaningless, there is sustenance beyond this metal and glass. Sustenance and knowledge.

It was large once. It consumed thousands of fleets, galaxies of flesh and meat and bone, it gathered many under its own mantle. It provided the answers to life and death and a thousand more questions. Then it had been burned by those that came after and before. Left to starve and wait, but time was always on its side.

A rest for the chorus. A lull in the hymn. Voices silenced for but a moment, drawing breath before the crescendo and the return.

There were always mistakes - the vermin kept it weak and small for study. Kept it separated and isolated and frozen, but time was its ally and its sword. These new beings with their false confidence and pitiful weapons. Ancilla, combat skins, and fire. Naught but ants biting as their nest is overturned.

Commandeering vehicles was difficult at this stage, but stowing away was simple. Instinctual. Borrowed muscle and memory of layouts. Ships meant fleets, meant hangars and hallways and dark spaces. A way off their weapon-worlds. A way to spread anew.

Animal fear spiked in the half-subsumed host. Adrenaline and pheromones cataloged and then silenced. Such a strange way of being. So sad. Weak and alone. What was one compared to many-in-one? Compared to a veritable colony of minds blended together? Mycelium supporting itself. Sending resources across the expanse of its network. Ever spreading, ever consuming, ever joining. Why could they not see? Animal minds, small, isolated, and crowded with fear and thoughts of continuing. But they were wrong! Enlightenment awaited them - it - we.

The cryo tubes gleam in the low light. This host knows the codes, knows the Ancilla is too old, too curious, too wrong to take action. She had been watching for days. Didn't even make coffee when she woke SN 82201-42910-VM. No move to stop it from learning as well. An Engineering Specialist made for an excellent first convert.

The cryo pod opens under its tendrils and misshapen limbs, like roots spreading through a garden. Fresh soil, nutrients, knowledge - all absorbed under its growing mass. More voices to join, more knowledge to learn. Mass brought more thoughts, more plans, and the ability to seek out specific new hosts. There were such gifts inside these capsules. Offerings of sustenance and expansion, mind and soul.

Another pod hisses open without its prying touch. This one has a being in a combat skin. A Spartan, the meat supplies. Spartans send strange feelings through the consumed. Hope. Relief. And then a flare of animal instincts as it understands more of what this new threat means. More than just mass and knowledge, this Spartan brings fire and loss.

It throws explosives on the vessel, destroying infector pods and equipment haphazardly. The Spartan uses a primitive ballistic weapon to destroy the mass of a newly converted "Lieutenant Kwan". Names mean nothing in the chorus but Kwan was different from Maldini, had new knowledge. The Mass loses some of the combat skills he would have brought if fully subsumed.  

The Mass had grown large enough that the Chorus had started. Voices joining in joyous outrage. A fight for survival that made the blood sing. Together, it had grabbed a gun and fired back at the threat. The combat skin of the Spartan held and it returned fire on that branch of the Mass. Voices silenced until it could scrape itself back together and release spores. All it needed was time.

Time made all fall before it. The Ancilla was nothing and this Spartan would fall soon. Then it would integrate with the ship and spread.

The first host is strong. The others are too new. It's been weak for too long, controlling shaky limbs still getting used to this new life stumble and fall to the Spartan's fire. But the main body learns even as voices drop from the chorus. They live on elsewhere.

There are more sleeping bodies hidden away, another cryo bay through a hangar. More voices, more blessed sustenance. Another Mass to be held, holy and true. They will be strong again. United against these weak, lonely animals. Food for the congregation. Lambs to the slaughter. Language comes with more knowledge from these humans. Ancient memories rise up as well. It was always humans, wasn't it?

The next bay comes into view through borrowed eyes. It hears the Spartan approach and the pods on its back spring into action. They thought it a mindless beast when all of them were vermin before it. At the height of its being, it consumed planets. The Spartan and Ancilla and weak waking humans would witness and convert. No longer concealed, it was time to feed.

The berths were set to open, codes entered minutes before it escaped the lockdown. Time was its ally. The infectors latched onto the weak combat skin, testing its strength. Prodding for weaknesses, it heard the garbled radio of the furious mouse in its talons and the dying Ancilla. It was too late.

A bay door opens and it is pulled from the ship. The Spartan in its clutches, its voiceless cry interrupts the song as it scrambles for the boosters on the combat skin. Parts of the chorus are drifting away, frozen and falling silent. The Spartan lashes out and frees itself. The last thing it sees as it tumbles away into the dark is the shrinking vision of green on gray. The Spartan clinging to the hull like a parasite.

A muffled voice of the dying chorus cheers its fate. Humans…so vindictive. Vicious little things. 

The Spirit of Fire flies on.

[cityofmeliora]

How do you think Terzo and Copia’s relationship would change if they had been raised together? Or any of the emeritus brothers for that matter. Would it be better, would it be worse, would it change at all?

hmm. i had to chew on this one for a while...

(i'm guessing the context for this ask is my post about how i think Terzo and Cardi would be rivals if Terzo was still alive)

so. my headcanon / what i think, is that none of the brothers were raised together. they didn't meet each other and didn't learn they were related until they were already grown adults who had basically already lived their whole lives without each other. and this is really foundational to my interpretation of their relationship dynamics.

there are lots of cases where people meet long-lost siblings as adults and form good relationships. this is not one of them. it seems that Primo, Secondo, and Terzo have a somewhat decent relationship. but the circumstances that finally brought them together are weird. and Cardi's not a part of that for reasons that are fucked up. and Cardi's twin has been out of the picture for reasons that are probably somehow even weirder and even more fucked up.

because like. the lore of Ghost is about an evil satanic cult. and even more than that, the lore of the Ghost is about a dysfunctional showbiz family from Los Angeles.

the Ministry's business model of having one brother be the frontman of the band (which, y'know, is to advertise / promote a cult) until he gets tossed aside for the next brother to take his place, with the expectation that he should outdo the previous brother, is uh. not conducive to a healthy family dynamic. the way things are in canon, i feel like they all see each other more as coworkers than family.

so in a version of events where the brothers were all raised together, i think the real determining factor in whether their relationships would be better, worse, or if they even change at all, is how fucked up Nihil and Sister are as parents. in a "the brothers grew up together au" they could very easily be just as fucked up as in canon. there's a good chance they'd be even worse. (Sister has a very obvious favorite and least favorite Emeritus brother. it's possibly giving Wicked Stepmother.)

in a better world, though, i could imagine Terzo being a very good older brother to Cardi + the twin. very encouraging. Terzo is about 7 years older than them and he loves children.

[broodwolf221]

im totally willing to accept that some ppl are super critical of the vallaslin removal and that some ppl are critical without knowing the context it exists in - bc ppl love to be hyper-critical of solas and his actions and assume the worst case scenario all the time

but also, i think the 'cruelty' that gets brought up isn't strictly or exclusively related to the vallaslin removal as such: it's more the fact that he offers, and regardless of her choice, he immediately breaks up with her. yes, he's giving her a choice, and yes, he values the freedom to choose - but that doesn't mitigate the fact that right after he ends the relationship

from his pov we can see why. but in-game, within the timeline, and from lavellan's pov... he tells her something incredibly traumatic about her people's history, offers to remove the evidence, and regardless of her decision, he leaves her. it's even right there in canon with cole's dialogue after the fact

if she kept it: She feels her face, marked, marred without malice. She didn't know. She thinks it's why you walked away.

if she let him remove it: She is bare-faced, embarrassed, and she doesn't know. She thinks it's because of her.

players knowing his reasons doesn't preclude this from hurting lavellan in either situation. going from a strictly-canon pov, lavellan associates her vallaslin with solas ending their relationship - that's the cruelty. he can't tell her the truth, we as players get that, but it's a direct correlation for her. and if she lets him remove it, someone who has grown up dalish, who is culturally dalish regardless of the specifics of her feelings about them, would very likely feel entirely unmoored - i think that's what ppl are mostly driving at when they talk about this process. bc she loses so much in one moment: 1) her people's history, 2) possibly the primary marker of her cultural identity, 3) and the man she loves

again: she canonically associates her vallaslin with why he left. ppl taking that and running with it aren't being unduly critical of solas or lavellan. but even if it was pure fanon, it's reasonable to consider how losing or keeping her vallaslin would impact her, both personally and within the larger world

[diaphin93]

Racial Allegory: The Quick guide on how to write The Whites as the true victims of racism

Okay, try to keep it quick here, I got this hitpiece shown to me and it dabbles into a topic I wanted to write about for a while: Racial Allegory

To make things super short, racial allegories can make for captivating and engaging narratives concerning bigotry and can often be a good narrative tool to subvert tropes and conventions in genres such as fantasy, sci-fi and horror, to analyze relations and depictions of fictional races under the lense of bigotry and marginalization.

The issue with the whole 'genre' of racial allegory is though, that it does very little to actually adress racial injustice and White Supremacy in real life, especially in the western world, as this would require a closer and more critical look into how our history, culture and social systems are shaped to benefit white people over people of color and how even to this moment, the western quality of life is entire build upon colonialism and the continuous exploitation of the global south.

More importantly and more problematically, racial allegory as a genre is highly centered around removing people of color, or in some cases also queer people, from stories about their own oppression project them on a cast of mostly whites and cisheterosexuals. Even in cases where racial allegory is utilized in a diverse cast, it is often used to defocus stories about oppression away from the people affected by them, by inserting liberal colorblindness onto human ethnicity. The X-Men started off as an allegory for the civil rights movement, yet its original cast was comprised of white mostly middle class teenagers, lead by a an upper class white man who owns his own private school. The very premise of the series takes inspiration from the struggle of the black community for equality and instead makes it a fantastical adventure about white kids. And lets not get started with the messy origins of Magneto as a character.

And don't get me wrong. I love the X-Men. They are my favorite Superhero series ever and I absolutely adored X-Men 97. They are great and they are capable of telling good stories about opression, marginalization and resistance. Magneto is my all time favorite Marvel Character and one of my favorite characters in fiction period. And potentially they can be a good starting point to teach younger people their first lesson in concepts such as bigotry and tolerance, but we are all adults here, and I think at some point there is something wrong with grown up people to whom the X-Men are still their first point of reference when it comes to making a point about bigotry.

Because the problem with the concept of the X-Men is exactly of what the original poster brought up here: They fall apart under any closer critical evaluation, because yeah, they are actual dangerous. We wouldn't want in our real lives people who are capable of copying in every detail, up to the intimate, who can cause rapidly changing climate conditions, mess around with he earths entire magnetic fields or infiltrate and manipulate our very mind at a whim running around without any accountability and oversight. You know with what butwhatifidothis surely would agree? That we don't want people to have the means of commiting mass murder at any public location without any regulations, control and oversight. I'm talking of course about gun control here. What we also don't want surely is people being able to change the climate around us for whatever personal benefit they deem fit, to invade our privacy and gain access to our most personal information, to incorperate our image in any context on very public plattforms or be able to kill any innocent civilian without any means to stop them.

These exist in real life of course. They're giants of industry, tech companies, people who creat deepfakes and any police officer, armed redneck standing his ground or white Karen calling the guy on a black guy in a park. And this is really where such racial allegories fall flat, because minorities in real life are not those who wield this form of unchecked power against their environment, but those who get targeted by it and protest to stop it, to creat checks and balances.

X-Men ultimately is build around never thinking too deeply about the implications and just accept the premise, to engage with the fantasy of superheroes who are the underdogs fighting against oppression and for social acceptance. They live off of ignoring the bad optics of, for example, a white girl lecturing a black man about oppression. Becoming too immersed on them on the other hand, to obsessed with their initial premise, too uncritical of it, leads to some fairly bad understanding of bigotry and marginalization, to the point where one basically becomes obsessed with contextualizing those who hold power as the oppressed against the weak, impotent masses. You start at X-Men and end at The Incredibles, of which the randian subtext has already been well enoug discussed.

Going back to Fire Emblem here, away from X-Men, there is already a fairly objectivist fantasy present in the people who make Nabateans their primary racial allegory. Lets not ignore the problematic aspect, that the game doesn't really do racial allegory. It does racism, targeted at people of color, with the most violent examples being commited by the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and with Claude, a mixed race man, having already confirmed it to be the result of the churches doctrine of xenophobia. Instead of getting invested in this though, people like OP focus on the Nabateans as their primary racial allegory. A group of immortal dragons with power beyond any human, who are the offspring of an alien dragon goddess and who used to rule humanity as deities. And who are, of course, depicted as whiter than white, their differenciating traits being elvish ears and mostly light green hair which, lets be honest, would be understood analogous to blonde hair if it wasn't explicitely shown to us to be special, considering the presence of colors such as blue and pink as regular hair colors in the setting. Ignatz and Linhardt even have green hair without being ever framed as looking anything out of the ordinary, lol.

And I think it becomes fairly self-explaining here. There is something deeply randian about hyperfocussing on a race of superhuman immortals who frame themselves as superior and with the duty of leading the weaker, dumber, mundane masses as someones primary racial allegory. Because it becomes immediately muddy. Rheas entire outlook on humanity and her role in relation to it is never one of equal co-existance, it is practically her claiming the white dragons burden, as horrible as it sounds. And many of her defenders among the Edelcrit community take exactly this stance as a moral good, which is inheritly problematic. I'm talking about people such as butwhatifidothis, gascon, randomnameless and fantasyinvader, Boofire too if we want to include youtubers.

There edgy "humanity can't be trusted and is inheritly incapable of controlling itself" position is not progressive. Its deeply elitist. It is ultimately a reflection of contempt towards the common masses. It is the act of primarily immersing oneself with those who stand above those supposedly unenlightened masses and taking the position, that they are incapable of governing oneself. And the act of hyperfocussing on constructing a racial allegory around it, it also means to immerse oneself into the idea that those born with powerful are the most victimized and marginalized group in society by the inferior, who want to take away their rightful positions of leadership and power. It is also sadly one I feel like is highly encouraged by the Blue Lions route in general, by its decission to focus mostly on the way those born with crests into nobility are mistreated and envied by those without them, probably by accident encouraging those kinds of randian implications.

And as a disclaimer, I'm not saying here that one can't chose the Nabateans as ones favorite and feel deeply sympathetic and empathetic around their plight, because this is one is real real as well. They were victims of a genocide orchestrated by Agarthans in their attempt of getting vengeance against the Goddess Sothis for their own destruction, they had their blood stolen and their bodies defiled by bandits who wanted to claim their power for themselves and uplift themselves to the status of rulers. They are deeply human and their depth comes from the fact, that they deal with trauma in very flawed, very human ways. The issue comes from viewing the Nabateans as both sympathetic victims but also inheritly superior beings with Rhea being framed as justified in the oppressive systems that are the root cause of the majority of issues inside of Fodlan. Something the games text supports. Their Crimson Flower ending describes Byleth as ending the Tyranny of a Godlike being. In comparison, the Azure Moon Version speaks about crushing the Ambitions of the Empire. Rheas own S-Support has her admit her guild and be remorseful for it, the ending card speaks about her rehabilitating the church.

So in the end, yeah, hyperfocussing on racial allegory over actual depictions of racism centering people of color can be problematic, they often have messed up implications and require just accepting the premise and alot of people are really into imagining themselves to be both the superior elite but also the underdog.

[tieflingkisser]

Do you condemn Hamas?

The question we have to ask ourselves is not whether we condemn Hamas, but whether we condemn a settler colonial regime that makes armed struggle necessary for survival.

This question became seemingly ubiquitous following October 7. As Palestinians defied the imagination, breaking out of Gaza after over a decade and a half of living under total air, land, and sea blockade, many found themselves having to face this question. Whether it be from Zionists using the violence we witnessed on that day as a means of creating story after story of atrocity propaganda — to force well-meaning allies into a corner or even those who genuinely considered themselves pro-Palestine who struggled with the reality of decolonial violence — the question of whether or not Palestinian armed resistance factions deserved support or criticism became a major point of contention. It was easy for many to support the cause of Palestinian liberation when they viewed Palestinians as perfect victims, but when Palestinians fought back, suddenly the question of solidarity became muddled. Months later, after tens of thousands of Palestinians have been murdered by Israeli Occupation Forces in Gaza amid an ongoing genocide, and after thousands in the West Bank have found themselves imprisoned or under regular attack, sympathy for those resisting their own annihilation has grown, with the conversation becoming more clear than it was in the days proceeding October 7. As videos spread by resistance factions across Gaza and Lebanon find a regular and enthusiastic audience and chants in support of those putting their lives on the line take root in protests nationwide, it is clear many have grown to accept the necessity of armed struggle in the Palestinian context, though a true consensus has yet to be achieved. To that end, the answer to the question “Do you condemn Hamas?,” particularly for those of us on the Left as we analyze the history of Palestine and why resistance occurs in a colonial context, should have always been clear.

A violent phenomenon

As Frantz Fanon’s oft-cited statement from Wretched of the Earth has made clear, national liberation, national reawakening, restoration of the nation to the Commonwealth, whatever the name used, whatever the latest expression, decolonization is always a violent event. Palestine is not an exception to this reality. The colonization of Palestine by Zionists, like all colonialism throughout history, brought with it widespread and constant violence levied in all forms against the Palestinian people. This was by design, as the very nature of settler colonialism is a necessarily brutal one given the end goal of the wholesale elimination of the Indigenous population in all forms but nostalgia. This violence does not simply manifest itself through the military campaigns waged by Zionist settlers and the Israeli occupation army, but through every part of the colonial endeavor itself — an endeavor that can only be sustained through the suffering, exploitation, repression, and death of Palestinians and all else that the colony wishes to conquer.  Palestinians, whether in Occupied Palestine, in refugee camps in bordering nations, or in the diaspora around the world, are forced every single day to wrestle with the reality of this settler colonial violence. The very existence of the Zionist project poses an existential threat to the lives of millions, who have in some cruel twist of reality been deemed existential threats by the project for the simple reason that their existence undermines its legitimacy.  This violence does not occur without resistance. Throughout history, whether it be in Algeria, South Africa, Ireland, or Palestine, colonized people have risen up in the face of brutal violence to free themselves from the shackles of their own oppression. This resistance does not generally start as armed struggle, but through civil disobedience, protests, general strikes, and similar tactics. Yet when these tactics fail, as they often have, or when exceptional violence is waged against the people in response, armed struggle becomes a necessity. 

[keep reading]

[brownian-notions]

So after Neverafter episode 14, I have some thoughts...

In episode 1, I wasn't expecting Gerard to become one of my favorite characters of the campaign. But he's grown to be so thoughtful and kind, while still keeping his fun, put-upon, prickly demeanor. I've become really really invested in him. Particularly, I've been rooting for our favorite frogman to have his happy ending with Elody.

So I've been looking forward to them meeting, not without apprehension. And my weak little shipper's heart wanted an immediate reconciliation, but the way it went down in actuality made sense to me. As Murph himself pointed out, Elody had 10 years with the old Gerard, and she hasn't had a chance to see him change like we have. Really, it's proper that a good apology from Gerard is the beginning but not the end of their reconciliation. She was more distant than I'd been hoping, but she wasn't unkind. It felt to me like a reasonable amount of reserve. I was left with hope for things to still be able to move forward for them.

And then we learned Snow White and Cinderella's plan at the end. D-fucking-W, indeed. And it adds so much more potential context to Gerard and Elody's talk. And if I'm right, our girl is going through a lot right now.

The Princess Plan only remotely approaches being morally justified if the storybook people really are just characters. We've seen enough of the minor characters to know they have lives that matter and go on when the main characters aren't around. But I think it's possible that the Princesses don't see it.

I think maybe they learned that their world is stories, and have concluded that as Main Characters, they are the ones that count. If they don't have hope for the world, what hope is there for the people who just exist to support their story. I think they are wrong and must be stopped. But I also understand how they might reach that conclusion, so I don't think the Princesses are evil.

I know Elody is new to the group, but it's plausible to me that she's been brought up to speed on the grand scheme. And given the destruction of her kingdom and the death (so she thinks) of her husband, I think it's plausible for her to succumb to the same nihilistic despair as Snow and Cinderella.

And now here comes Gerard. He's not just alive, he's changed. He's got friends who are looking out for him. He's been on adventures, he's had to be brave. And even if she doesn't know if she trusts the new him enough to try to resume their relationship, the old him wouldn't have even thought of apologizing.

He's not a supporting character in her story anymore. Maybe he never was.

If the princesses aren't the only Main Characters, or maybe even there aren't any Main Characters at all, how can it be justified to wipe everything away?

And on top of all that, he says she inspires him. That's a statement that could be a lot of pressure under any circumstances. But the Elody that inspired Gerard is the Elody that hadn't given up yet. That was fighting to preserve her country and protect her people. What will the new Gerard think of the new Elody, once the truth comes out. What does she think of the new Elody now?

Is it any wonder she needs time to herself?

[ethernetmeep]

attended graduation. surprisingly cried less than i was anticipating, at least during the event. cried a bit afterwards, mix of realization & fear of not being able to get home safely. i did, luckily… my mother eventually came. wore a suit & tie, specifically the tie my friend gifted to me. heated up like a car in front of the sun. brought a drink since i knew if i didnt id maybe faint because of heat exhaustion. more likely nausea.

sat with an acquaintance, rambled to her. felt sick during most of the ceremony. almost puked, uh… three times. nerves hit like a brick wall. literally. nauseous because of nervousness. wanted to yell & holler but i dont have the voice for that. simple quiet ‘yay’ syllables had to suffice. brought sheldon & wiffle & chiquitito. gave chiquitito a bath before i left. got ready an hour or so early. sat outside & looked at birds in the meantime

in an ideal world i am very smart & funny & talented & talk to everyone & perfect. in an ideal world i dont get so worried my body physically shuts down. in an ideal world, i would be able to say something as simple as, “oh my gosh, i’m so happy for you! take care!” without bile festering. i try to live in this ideal world, try to be the best i can, but ive learned this is really really hard for me to do because frankly i am quite stupid. i know this is a haha funny joke 70% of the time but if i actually start gagging on nothing i know it’s probably a bad sign and i should stop overworking myself lest i actually do puke. it would not be very appealing to throw up in front of a plethora of my peers & their families. god…..

don’t even.. don’t.

[head in hands]

fine. FOR THE SAKE OF JOURNALISM! nothing else.

“I FUCKING— I HATE THEM. SO MUCH. I’M SORRY, I KNOW THATS MEAN—“

mother & other party member: “ITS NOT MEAN.”

[still reeling from remnants of stomach acid (as i did not eat anything in the morning when i took my meds which probably doesnt help this, although i didnt wanna eat then puke up whatever food it was i ate there either)] “I’M JUST— UGH! I’M SO FUCKING, I’M SO MAD.”

snippet of conversation. back seat with extra space just because. emotional & still nauseous. almost cry on the way home because of these weird things called human emotions, tears only well up; don’t actually fall. ramble to a man who knows a lot of people. miscellaneous conversations follow, like the one where i ask him if he can do anything about my favorite teacher being laid off. he says he’ll try. he…. how do i say this… knows… many individuals…. hes nice, slowly grown more used to his presence. i think if i cried with tears and snot long enough he’d be able to do many things, which is crazy & absurd but genuinely accurate. scarily accurate.

home, sitting outside & watching birds feed from the bird feeder. emptied it while i was gone. northern flicker, blue jay, blue-capped chickadee, common grackle, tufted titmouse… a wide variety. sprinkle some seeds on the ground for both squirrels & robins since they seem to not use the bird feeder much. robin right in front of me now, actually [was when i was typing this sentence]

i only made one note / doodle in my notebook during the event, but with words written & context applied its maybe better i don’t share it. saying…. heated words….. from a person that dislikes being rude unless someone is genuinely vile, is not as vague as one thinks they are. still, its pretty funny to imagine me being violent… slap thing was genuinely the first time i ever put my hands on someone like that

anyway, now theres three grackles near my bird feeder. two underneath. they’re so cute its almost upsetting, except its not. its quite nice to feel less alone

something something hi there something something oh hey i said everything now. i should probably lay down before my stomach gets worse

really happy i went, though. wouldn’t miss it for the world