#i don't imagine ill ever feel like a child again

[blackasmyhangryfurrybrokensoul]

i want a parent to comfort me and tell me everything is going to be alright. I want to feel like a child. Not always. Just. For a moment.

[ehlnofay]

in the midst of a little depressive episode at the moment I fear and it's causing me to Ponder... in a weird way I'm almost grateful. like this is UNBELIEVABLY better than it used to be, even as much as it sucks in the moment. I wish I could go back to find myself at twelve years old hiding out in the school toilets and tell them that as long as we stick it out for long enough then one day the outsize bad emotions will be triggered by actual definable events and they'll be a noticeable change from our baseline. I'm not ✨recovered✨ and I don't know if I ever will be - I think I might have spent too many developmental years creating terrible patterns and associations to be able to straighten it all out - but it's Better and I'm able to know that it can continue to get better, too. and that's fucking huge.

[thebibliosphere]

Talking in a group chat with some fellow author friends earlier, and the subject of our book reviews came up. As in, "What's the favorite thing anyone's ever said about your book?" type thing.

I had to pause and think about it because people have said a lot of nice things about my work. That it's the queer goth love child of Jane Austen meets Terry Pratchett, for one. That Nathan's disability arc meant the world to them. That Vlad's blatant neurodivergence made them feel seen. That Ursula's profound loneliness made them feel less alone.

But the one thing I see time and time again that makes me smile is the word "comfort." So that's the one I went with. That people find my work comfortable.

So you can imagine my surprise when someone chimed in going, "Noo, don't say that! Your work is so good!"

I won't lie, it took me a solid ten to twenty seconds to realize that she thought someone describing my work as being "comfortable" was an insult and not one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

And maybe I'm just several types of mentally ill, chronically ill, and too beaten down by the world, but I do not understand what is wrong with comfort. Comfort, for me, is a physically unobtainable goal. You might as well rank it up there with getting transported into another world and becoming Queen of the Fae. For me, reading comfortable narratives where people get taken care of with compassion and love is a fantasy.

And, like, just objectively speaking, something being comfortable doesn't mean it's not good.

It doesn't mean it's not thought provoking. It doesn't mean conflict-free or lacking moral dilemmas. It means people feel safe reading it, knowing those things will be resolved.

I'm not trying to keep my readers on edge with anxiety, always wondering where the next plot twist will come in. That's not my style of writing. It's not my goal. It's fine if it's yours, but like... Comfort is not an insult, and it makes me a little sad to think some people think it is.

[andypantsx3]

ANDY U CANT LEAVE US HANGING I NEED MORE DRAGON SHOUTO?,!?.!. please… i think ill die if u dont elaborate WHAT DO U MEAN WE’RE FACE TO FACE WITH HIM… what does he say… what does he DO… i need to know more omfg

Riffing off of @mhathotfic's tags on my original post, which I absolutely loved.

It happens on a cold January evening, just a few months after you've reached your majority.

You escape out into the frosty winter evening to join Shouto, unable to bear your family's increasingly-regular discussions of your marriageability now that you're of age.

Once you dragged home a dragon fledgling, you'd always sort of imagined that the question of your eligibility would be somewhat moot. Not many men wanted a wife who came with little dowry, and even fewer might want one who came with an enormous fire-breathing lizard who barely let her out of his sight.

You thought Shouto would sooner burn down your husband's house than listen to any sounds of discomfort on your wedding night—you didn't think many men would be willing to consummate a union with that threat lingering just beyond the window.

Not that you wanted to be married to any of the village men. Ever since you were little, you'd always had this feeling—a feeling like there was someone out there for you, just out of reach, like they were just a step beyond the next corner. Close, but somehow impossible to catch. So you'd never wanted a husband from the village, and you certainly don't now.

So once the discussion turns towards the topic of your being married yet again over dinner, you excuse yourself, and go out into the night to find Shouto, who is never more than a few hundred meters away.

You find his enormous form easily, his red-and-white patterned scales glittering in the light of a fire he's set, out in the fields you'd found him in as a child, as if he'd somehow anticipated you'd be coming out to him.

He cracks open a fiery blue eye, watching your approach, and lifts a wing as you near him, crowding you between the fire and his warm scales, creating a sort of tent with his wing to keep the heat in, and keep you close to him.

You absently pat his side, sinking down against him, sticking your hands out to the fire.

"They're talking about husbands again," you say, and Shouto cranes his neck around so that he can rest his head across your lap, nearly as large as you are, heavy and warm. You reach out to rest a hand across his snout, petting the glittering scarlet scales there.

You've always known he can understand you, given his reactions to the questions you ask, the way he sometimes watches you with knowing eyes. But how much of what you say to him he truly understands will forever be a mystery, as you'll never be able to ask him.

You think he understands enough, though, to know you're displeased.

"A husband," you repeat in disbelief, scratching over his scales again, listening to the rumble that builds up in his chest almost like a purr. He always likes to be petted, though you get an intentionally blank look from him whenever you dare to bring it up, as though he does not like to be made fun of.

"When they should know you're the only boy for me," you tell him, teasing.

Shouto's eye blinks open again, and you lean back to watch him watching you, something curious in his gaze. You begin to recognize the look for what it usually is—the precedent to some type of mischief—whether that be digging up a garden when he was still the size of a particularly fat cat, to accidentally setting a man's pant leg ablaze when he'd whistled after you, the evening of your sixteenth birthday.

You make a curious noise, and you're just about to ask him what he thinks he's up to when there's a crackle like lightning, and the hot, burning scent of ozone reaches your nose.

There's suddenly a rush of cold air over you, Shouto's massive form gone from around you, and the weight in your lap is suddenly much smaller and lighter.

When you look down, Shouto's head is no longer across your legs. Instead, your gaze meets the perfect pale skin of a very strong, very naked back. You realize belatedly that there is a stranger in your lap, a man with a mop of red-and-white hair, scarlet and snow, who has one warm, muscular arm curled around your waist.

You let out a scream, scrabbling backwards, but the stranger's arm locks around you, and the man's face tips up to yours, blinking curiously.

You freeze, your gaze meeting eerily familiar grey-and-blue eyes, set into the most utterly perfect face you have ever seen. The man's features are careful and exact, the slope of his nose blade-straight, his jawline strong, his mouth pretty and plush and weirdly captivating in the flickering firelight. You cannot help but feel you know him, though you are incredibly certain you have never seen him before.

There would be no forgetting a man as beautiful as this.

"Who the hell are you?" you demand, shock rendering you frozen and dumb.

The man blinks, slow and catlike and so hauntingly recognizable. His eyebrows scrunch, as though something's confused him, and then he speaks, slowly and carefully, as if he's just getting a feel for the shape of words in his mouth.

"I am...Shouto," he says, his voice so deep and smooth. It reminds you so much of the deep, rumbling purr Shouto had just been letting out moments ago—your mouth drops open, disbelieving.

"You're Shouto?" you echo, thrown. Though you're beginning to realize that this devastatingly handsome, distractingly naked man is horribly familiar in hundreds of different ways—from the timbre of his voice to his eyes to his hair to the way his arm suddenly curls even more possessively about your waist, the way Shouto's tail sometimes does to keep you pressed close to him.

And with Shouto the dragon suddenly gone...

"You're my dragon? My Shouto?" you demand.

The man blinks, shifting in your lap so that's he's fully turned towards you. He props up on one hand, his face drawing alarmingly close as his other arm presses you into him. He looks very much as if he likes the sound of that.

"Yes, your Shouto," he purrs, pupils going darker. Your heartbeat suddenly kicks back to life in your chest, stuttering and tripping over itself as his large, hot palm presses proprietarily at the small of your back, as he leans in to bring his mouth close to yours.

"And you..." he says, his tone going rich and smoky and dark, like dragon fire. "You have always been mine."

[notroosterbradshaw]

My Father's Eyes - prologue

about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.

You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore. 

You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.

"One more drink," your co-workers begged. 

"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.

And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home - 

But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised. 

Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy - 

The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.

Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.

Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out. 

That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go - 

You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint. 

The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.

But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way. 

Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.

“ - Hangman is blonder - " 

" - suave Coyote was - "

"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."

"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”

You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her. 

But no mention of Bradley. 

"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.

Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.

Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...

And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.

"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him. 

And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble. 

You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.

And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room. 

Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it. 

He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you   The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time. 

Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.

As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety. 

"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were. 

The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares. 

You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching. 

...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy. 

And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG. 

And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.

"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley. 

"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned. 

"Yeah," you agreed. 

"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.

And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs. 

"You still livin' around here?" 

You gave a soft nod. "Yeah." 

"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."

"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"

"My whites?" he asked.

"I saw you come in."

"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.

"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of." 

Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.

"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."

"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.

"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.

Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply. 

"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.

"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."

"Fleeting."

"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."

"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time. 

Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine. 

Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.

Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.

"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers. 

You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley. 

"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[younglingslayer300]

something that i find really interesting is that i think anakin is actually a very sociable person - we don't see much of him off tatooine, but in that first film he invites complete strangers into his home, and he's talking to them without any reserve. he does have friends, and the conflict he does have with the other slave kids mostly seems to be because he has so much hope of escaping slavery, something they also want, and they resent his hope more than his abrasive personality, something that never happens again in the whole series. (also, they're children in a horrible environment who need some kind of outlet for their resentment, and that conflict is something anakin understands - he may argue with them, but at the end of the day he's still one of them, which is a sense of security that he doesn't achieve with the jedi)

and then you get the next films, and he's much more awkward, but he's still very direct - he likes talking to people, and he doesn't really like being alone. but, crucially, he frankly doesn't seem to like most of the people he's around, and i know that can be explained by saying that actually he is antisocial, and his behaviour as a kid was just a childish lack of inhibitions.

but tbh i find it much more compelling to imagine that he is very sociable, and he does like people, and naturally gets on with them. and the reason this is pretty much the opposite in the 2nd and 3rd films is because he's so completely out of his depth. he hates tatooine so much, and he obviously hated being a slave, but he's never been able to shake that from his identity. he can't be sociable anymore, can't click with people, because they're so completely unreachable to him; he doesn't know where he stands with them, because he's only ever felt 'right' as a slave (he's so ill), and he can't connect with people the way he naturally would, because he can't fit in anywhere else. he never feels confident as a jedi (e.g. interrupting padme when she calls him a trainee, and getting overly angry when the council doesn't make him a master), because he has an entirely different set of values to them - succeeding, to him, is proving that he is good at violence and does not need to be violenced - and knows that his view of life is just incompatible with the rest of the jedi. he can't feel comfortable, he never knows exactly where he stands with them, and their mindsets are completely incomprehensible to him, so he can never be sociable again the way he was as a child.

and that follows him his whole life. he tries desperately to escape tatooine, and prove himself worthy of personhood, but there was never anything to prove, so he never manages it. i think it's one reason he's so comfortable with padme (possibly @husborth said something similar in one of their posts?) because even though he doesn't want people to know about his childhood, the fact that she understands him, and knew him in the only time of his life where he didn't feel out of his depth, means he can relax around her. i also think it's one of the many reasons he's so miserable in adulthood, because he desperately needs lots and lots of friends, and has 0, and also he hates everyone around him. that hatred isn't natural to him, but he can't relax around anyone because he's been taught, as a child, never to let his guard down. on tatooine, he knew the stakes: disobey orders, get blown up. everywhere else, he has had to navigate this nuance-led structure, that involves feelings and frowns on violence, and frankly he never adjusts to that change. even though he wants to be friends with people, naturally likes people, he can never relax around them, and so he automatically dislikes + distrusts them instead, which exhausts him. he is not a naturally mistrusting person, but it's been beaten into him, literally

[v-anrouge]

This is a queued post and it includes talks about transphobia and mentions of self harm and eating disorders

Im here to talk and announce a break, first thing's first j relapsed, in literally like everything sh ed and didn't try to kill myself is because of a few people and the fact my pills ended. For a very long time in this blog u have not been feeling like human, it's like most of you don't even actually like and just come talk to me when im being funny and fun or when i post something rook related that you like, ive really been trying to get rid of that feeling but it keeps on coming back and it's unbearable to be in this blog at this point. this situation with Shiba only really confirmed it for me, I saw about like 4 mutuals referring to this as drama, and complaining about seeing it on dash and while obviously you have all the rights to be displeased with a constant show of negativity in your dash, i beg of you to try and think how i, a trans man, must feel seeing you refer to me and other mutuals calling out transphobia and have to read you refer to this as drama and not as a literal crime. I understand if you got annoyed by me talking about it constantly and to that i ask that you please block me, because i have been literally beaten, bullied, harassed and even doxxed by transphobes, I do not take anything that displays even a bit of prejudice against my trans siblings lightly, hence why i was so "histerical and obsessed" and was being so "stupid and acting like an idiot" as someone people would claim. I do not care what view you have of me i really don't, im used to this shit, ive been trans and alive in the most transphobic country for 20 years, it's no news, but it still hurts. And it hurts even more when I see someone say i was an idiot for blocking someone immediately and calling them out when they side with a transphobe, and it hurts even more when I see a person i thought liked me complain about "drama still going on" rest assured that i won't be "bitching" about it any longer

For soru, who cant possibly process why i have blocked you, your take on that situation and your friend have both brought me terrible flashbacks of my own past as a child dealing with transphobia, of being told people like me are sick and are the seeds of the devil and that we are animals or that there's something wrong with us, like your friend said, their apology is both not genuine and extremely poorly made as they still can't accept the fact that yes, they are transphobic, and you soru, can't imagine how it broke my soul to see your post saying you had given them a chance, but seeing the post you made after, in which you literally agree with your mother you should've stayed away from trans people, that's what broke me the most, and j couldn't even speak about it, because it's "too negative" or im "drama chasing" im sick of this, you can hate and insult me all you want soru rest assured you're not the only one you're not the first nor the last one, maybe this will come off as a surprise to the people that are sure im obsessed with drama and chasing people around but i genuinely did have a lot of respect for you, if the hours ive spent crying over this say anything at all, it's sad that this had to end this way, but not for me, I don't care, this isn't the first or the last time this happens to me, but to my mutuals who i am very sure many are angry that i have made this situation happen, perhaps i should've stayed quiet and keep being funny as people like me best, well it is too late, but i hope that you'll forgive me mutuals, for once again ruining something good.

I don't know how long this break will last or if ill ever even return to this account at all, but i sincerely thank the ones that did treat me like a human, as an equal, that actually saw the person behind v-anrouge. you can't possibly believe how much you mean to me

That's about it, do have a great day

[boy---interruptedd]

Alfred's Playhouse Commentary.

Alfred's playhouse is a vent show I recently discovered made by Emily Youcis. I will be addressing the actual content of the show before I move on to my opinion on Emily herself so please hold fire until the end because I KNOW what you're thinking.

TRIGGER WARNING - CSA, SH, CHILD ABUSE, NAZISM, GRAPHIC IMAGERY.

(Not all these themes are discussed in my post but you should be aware of these before watching the show)

Alfred's Playhouse features main character Alfred, who is a dog described in the introduction song as desperately attempting to escape his painful reality. I agree that it is genuinely disturbing, but I'd like to address its vague poignancy and how it deals with its themes.

In the first episode, we see what I think (as a survivor myself) to be the most accurate representation of how it feels to be sexually assaulted I've ever seen. The moment where everything is odd and numb and quiet followed by pure panic and rage.

The first episode also displays mental instability incredibly well. I've struggled with my mental health for the past six years and honestly the scenes where Alfred just rambles about essentially nothing at all, addressing an imagined audience, accurately represents what feels like the descent into madness many mentally ill people are convinced they go through. The thought that you've lost your mind is an extremely painful one and Alfred's Playhouse depicts that with surprising levels of accuracy.

Episode two, however, is essentially just this massive showcase of Alfred brutally harming himself. Though it portrays the very common desperate desire for attention many people experience when they struggle with self harm, myself included, I feel the level of gore is a little gratuitous, displaying Alfred almost bleeding to death from the wounds he's inflicted upon himself. That being said, it is a vent show so I see why Youcis made the decision. She never really made it for other people it was a way to make herself feel better. Then again, it was her decision to post it publicly.

Episode three essentially explains the whole show from a weirder perspective and honestly I don't want to go into it since I have so much to say and it's quarter past 11 at night and I have college tomorrow, but it is a good episode with the context of the show.

Overall, though it is important for assault victims and mentally ill people to have content in which they feel seen, I feel Youcis should have toned her work down a little before posting it. However, the Internet was a wild west in 2007.

Now onto Youcis herself, I feel it is incredibly unjustified to attribute her current political views to the show. She fell down the alt-right pipeline after publishing Alfred's Playhouse. This is almost definitely because of her downward spiral. It's not uncommon for groups like the alt-right to target vulnerable people like Emily. She has so clearly been crying for help for years and, though there's no excuse for her words or actions, I feel you should take her art for what it is rather than apply a made up meaning to it. The depictions of Nazis in the show - I think - are more a commentary on her childhood trauma and the themes of the show, Alfred feeling his life is dictated by someone/something else. While there's definitely better content in the genre and in general, the massive controversy surrounding Alfred's Playhouse is - in my opinion - unwarranted and really just watch it with an open mind and separate it from current Emily because she wasn't like she is now when she made it. Instead of hating on the present, understand the past and don't be overly shocked when mentally ill people do fucked up shit, especially when they've received the kind of backlash Emily Youcis faced.

Final disclaimer- I don't support her actions I hope she burns I just want people to understand things how they actually happened yk?

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 11]

As I've mentioned, Kerubim and Julith have Beef.

As far as she is concerned, whether he was behind her framing (he wasn't) he is one of the people to blame. He defeated her that fateful day, and then she never saw her son again.

I've already went into detail, on the way "killing" her has affected him, (A mixture of horror and duty. Killing a mother and making a child an orphan for the sake of a city. Being grateful for her dying because it made him a father instead. Feeling awful for that thought.) but it is interesting, how he reacted to her turning out to be alive, when he killed her with his own hands.

Seething. Perhaps even coping.

This is chichala, which we had seen. I suppose he uses it to buff himself up before the boss fight. Drinking alcohol before a fight is very much RPG logic.

Sadly, there are no interesting buffs to it in-game:

I think a lot about the way Kerubim, Joris, and Atcham would be characterized in video game logic, by the way. I still have no working theory of how the hell their fighting styles would synergize. Would Joris be their buffer/debuffer? Their glass canon? Both? And do any of them take ranged weapons on missions...?

They probably do. It'd be kinda dumb not to. Personally, I like to imagine that Atcham would be the one using those, most of the time. He has that "skyrim stealth archer" vibe to him. (Though they're all melee users, through and through.)

Despite how smug he is at a couple of moments, he really was struggling during this fight.

My honest reaction whenever Kerubim does this fucking face is just:

This is very much a "deeply mentally ill adoptive father (who inadvertently ruined his child's life by adopting them to atone for his sins + because he was abused as a child) fighting through an army for his child before dying in their arms and saying they're the only good thing he ever had" look for him.

Another reason that one has to support both women's rights and wrongs when talking about Julith, is that, like.,.. what was she playing at, here? There are two possibilities:

That she would destroy whoever has the dragon's soul and set it free, giving her an advantage.

That Kerubim would shield that person.

Either one is good. :)

Either way she was perfectly willing to risk/attempt blowing up a random, innocent person, who was hiding from her.

My personal headcanon is that while Julith is physically stronger than Kerubim, she lost ten years prior because she couldn't stop thinking about The Baby. Where were they taking Joris? Did Bakara leave with him? Is Joris alright? Didn't Jahash give him to this cat man, who was now trying to kill her? What the fuck is going on, who did this, why, why, why?

I imagine seeing him lose for the exact same reason brings her great pleasure.

the nonbinary slay here was insane

Guys I think this might be bad for Joris's long term mental stability.

On a more serious note, I think there should be more content about Joris fucking hating Julith. During the movie? There's too much going on to work out what he feels.

But after? He has all the time in the world to hate her for everything she did.

I do think that he probably grew up and found whoever framed her to take revenge on/to get justice. But hating her, and wanting to clear her name of the crimes she DIDN'T commit so she could have some peace in death, so that people would stop smearing her name, — are two things that can coexist.

Like to slap his bald scaly head, reblog to slap his bald scaly head.

Kerubim never changed his stupid ass baka "George George the Farmer Farmer" name.

Though we've been knew.

BAD. I DON'T LIKE THIS.

AND she recognizes him by the blue eyes. AND, this implies that, for the entirety of the Dofus show, — and the entirety of Wakfu as well, since he, once again, has yellow eyes there, — he had dragon eyes.

Imagine being Simone, waking up at 3am, realizing because you forgot something in Joris and Kerubim's bedroom, sneaking in, and seeing this.

It also raises some questions about adult Joris, because we know he no longer has Grougalorasalar in him. The easiest explanation is that he spent so much time with the dragon, that after their final separation, his eyes couldn't change anymore.

After all, — the changes the dragon made to his height/skin/hair are permanent. It would make sense that, with time, even his eyes would be permanently altered.

I don't think it's a sad thing, by the way. Imagine going your whole life with beautiful brown eyes that look a bit like your adoptive father's. Then imagine suddenly having blue eyes (scary) and that they're your Dead Father's Who You Never Met but whom everyone misses. Like which pair of eyes would you choose? Because I think there IS a right answer to this riddle.

I think Julith has convinced herself that whoever took her and Jahash out wouldn't want loose ends, and that Joris was taken out as well, or something. Maybe that's why he wasn't really on her mind.

Mind you, this is a tinfoil hat headcanon.

This is so beautiful, to me... She was so emotionally stricken by seeing him again as his mother, that his father, who was both fatally wounded and stricken by seeing her perform deeply painful dark rituals on his son after traumatizing him, could land one last hit on her to save said son.

Julith has been a mother for a grand total of a few days to a month, while Kerubim has been for 10 years. Of course, her first concern is getting surprised it's him, and not that she hurt him. Because she couldn't even dream that she'd ever see him again.

There's a tragedy in that. She never even had a chance to learn how to be his mother, or who he is as a person, — she was the mother of an infant. Her love for him is far more theoretical than Kerubim's.

It's a love for Joris not as a person, but as a lost opportunity.

So she has no regrets about hurting him, — and she will hurt him as many times as it takes, if that's what it takes to get back her family.

[jorisjurgen]

How do you think kerubim and atcham feel about grougalorasalar his relationship with joris, the effect he had on joris? And do you have any headcanons about how and why exactly joris and grougalorasalar parted ways?

I'M INSANE. me and @dullard have talked about this in the past.

I must preface this post by saying that there are different opinions on when grougalorasalar vacated Joris's body for real: immediately after the movie, or later.

(People who think it's immediately think so because the dofus is intact again, people who think it's later think so because Joris's eyes change back to black. Until movie 2 we will not know for sure, imo.)

I think that no matter how they parted ways, Kerubim and Atcham feel very protective, but just how protective they feel would depend on how badly their parting went. To elaborate:

I like to think that possibility 2 is correct for angst reasons. I want Grougalorasalar to still be in Joris's body after the movie because if he is, it means that Joris gets to try, and keep him shackled down and imprisoned within himself, even as Grougalorasalar really begins to want to leave.

We have seen how much it hurts Joris in the movie, and if this happened for a couple of weeks, because Grougalorasalar wants out that badly, until Joris physically couldn't cope anymore, Atcham and Kerubim would fucking hate Grougalorasalar afterwards. Which is tasty. (They'd also hate Joris too, for a little while, for making them worry so much. Keeping the world safe from Grougalorasalar's conquests and desire to bring his son back isn't worth it to them.)

If it was something less intense, with Grougalorasalar and Joris having an argument/a physical confrontation — they'd dislike Grougalorasalar for hurting his feelings, and feel betrayed that even after everything Joris has done for him, the left to do his own things.

Either way, I don't think it was something mild, or non-confrontational, because of the way Joris speaks about what happened. I don't think they're on good terms at all, which definitely means that Atcham and Kerubim are pretty protective.

2. Joris views their relationship pretty pragmatically, albeit in an extremely mentally ill way? It had a profound effect on him in every single sense.

Firstly, he would not be himself without the dragon. I think he feels paradoxically grateful for the body he was given (he can't imagine being and looking like a completely different person, and if given the chance to change himself, he would not take it), and completely cursed (he's short, he has weird scaly skin, he's bald..,,. I think he has an Atcham-level of body dysphoria, except he acts more chill about it outwardly (despite, cough-cough, Atcham being the one out of them two who is okay with wearing clothes that don't shield him, even if he dislikes his body too. Actions speak louder than words).)

I think Joris likes his current life too much to ever want to change anything — the concept of big change scares him. So he's grateful for the way Grougalorasalar has shaped him, even if he considers himself to be broken and fundamentally flawed in some cursed, evil, and fucked way.

My biggest insane headcanon take is that Grougalorasalar is (takes a big insane breath) one of the main reasons Joris Jurgen has OCD.

Yes, he was brain blasted 24/7 by child neglect as a child and cried inconsolably if he thought about Kerubim dying for 3 seconds, and YES he lived in a constant state of world ending anxiety and uncertainty.

However, with Grougalorasalar, things get whackier. Now we know that Joris has a proclivity towards violence and destruction. Now JORIS HIMSELF knows that he has a proclivity towards violence and destruction. Now, put this guy, as a teenager, in Bonta — where everyone hates Grougalorasalar for trying to kill them repeatedly. Now, put him next to huppermages, all of whom hate his mom and necromancy and black fire.

These feelings are just how his brain works. He will never know which of the things he feels are normal, and which are Dragon Brain. He will start blaming Grougalorasalar for the fact that he gets mad or annoyed, at normal things, at things that are actually maddening or annoying. He'll think he's evil and fucked for wanting to scream at Keke during an argument. I think he feels contaminated, in a way — like his mind is not entirely his own, and he does not possess free will or control of his actions, which scares him.

ADD TO THAT THE POSSIBILITY that Grougalorasalar, just like with Yugo, may have given him Visions of him killing his two loved ones, as retaliation for their split. Or, spent weeks, maybe months, trying to get him on his side. Imagine this guy whispering in your ear for weeks and weeks about how much you totally want to help him resurrect his son and destroy all your enemies together, and have to repeatedly say no.

3. I think their split was probably dramatic and violent and insane because the two of them are just like that.

My headcanon is the ultimate low-hanging fruit — I think Grougalorasalar wanted his son back, and Joris is against murder and necromancy. Besides that, I think Grougalorasalar values balance ("balance" may include warcrimes if need be), in a way, while Joris values justice ("justice" may include warcrimes if need be) above anything.

What I mean by this is that, after seeing a guy with 7 doomsday weapons, 'Salar will want to kill him and send him visions of hurting his wife. While Joris will be like "well are you planning to kill people, or end monarchy, or question Bonta? No? Good. I only care about ideals, and I trust you, as a friend. I'm a big believer in nukes. [is scared shitless anyway]"

[devine-fem]

LONG POST! you can skip.

I have come to rant and vent about Jack from Wonder Woman 2023 and why they are a transgender/TRANSFEM allegory.

I would like to preference this by saying that you can feel represented through this character for a multitude of reasons regardless of being trans or not but I personally think they’re some sort of transfem allegory and I’m here to talk about why because 1) its my blog and 2) I am obsessed and I’m here to argue that they are transfem, a transfem allegory or at the very least transfem coded.

Who is Jack?

“Jack” is an extreme Wonder Woman “fanboy” that we know is ill, their tests have been coming up slim and they've had a multitude of doctors come and try and cure them and to give them a couple of good memories before they pass, their parents ask Wonder Woman to spend a day with them.

Allegory 1.

From their timid nature, I assume that a lot of their life they feel like an experience is ruined if they're involved or feel apologetic if they're not perfect all the time. This to me makes me think “Jack” likes to try and embody Wonder Woman during stressful or traumatizing situations. They idealized her to never be afraid, anxious, or quiet.

Allegory 2.

There’s this montage that features “Jack” doing a bunch of things that an Amazon would do like archery, wearing the armory, or eating the fruit, but also things that Wonder Woman would do like use her lasso, throw her tiara or sword fight, etc.

It makes me think “Jack” wanted to spend their time doing things that made them feel strong, things that could really immerse them into the Wonder Woman experience. Something they probably yearned for themselves, probably used imagining themselves in the life of an Amazon to escape.

Allegory 3.

Point 1.

“I don't think this should be what I… like.”

There are expectations for you in the world, and certain people, most of the time a trans girl will feel the pressure that she should be this way or act this way but they simply can’t because it's not how their brains work, it's not how they function, and when you're told otherwise you start to think there’s something deeply wrong with you like you’re broken.

Point 2.

“It’s my dad… and the other kids.”

Trans people, you ever have the dad or either parent feel like they can’t support you and you have the desire to be called your gender but they avoid calling you gendered things at all like “Boy” or “Girl” and avoid gendered things entirely by just calling you “Kid” or “child”? Because that is what this feels like. A relationship between a father and son is strong but when the son shows disinterest in that relationship then the father feels rejected. Their happiness to have a son feels strained and they begin to wonder how they should interact with the child.

“Jack” also feels like their dad doesn't support them and their interests, be it something happening off-panel or the natural feeling trans youth feel like they’re being subtly judged by their parent even though they don't want to say it. That along with their community judging them to their face and ostracizing them for being different.

Point 3.

“Why can't I like Superman or Batman and… I don't know… Baseball and like normal stuff? For a boy? Why is this good?”

Boys feel represented through Superman or Batman, a strong invincible, and macho man. Not a woman, why does Wonder Woman make “Jack” feel seen for the first time in their life? Why does the world of a woman give “Jack” so much escapism? Do you get where I’m going with this?

Point 4.

“Is it because I’m sick inside? Is that why God made me sick?”

It's the idea that inside you, regardless of what you may look like the stuff inside you makes you sick and wrong. The person inside you that you've been holding onto for so long. It's like you feel impure and sinful and like you deserve to be punished for something you didn't ask for cause then maybe the punishment will make everything feel right again.

This to me at the very least sounds like the typical “Superboy trapped in a Wonder Girl’s body” if you know what I mean. I know they're coming to terms with their death and this character might die but I hope they don't, I really do.

This character was supposed to reach out from the pages and touch the reader who relates to it most, like making male Wonder Woman fans feel seen… but how come it reduced me; a trans girl Wonder Woman fan to tears? I felt that I connected to Wonder Woman, I felt my gender through her just like “Jackie” probably does. I selfishly want to see more of them personally.

Anyway, I love them so so so much. Wonder Woman come in many different shapes and forms and personally I like to think of them as my favorite “Wonder Girl.”

END OF POST.

[jeweledflowers]

Hello Rose-san!!! Today I'm here to request Who made me a princess with Dazai Osamu Reader! I just got this ideas when im watching meme about Dazai Osamu it's from channel Sakisayaka They made meme really good!!! You should watch it once ^^

hello, darling! how are you doing, how has your day been? sorry, it took me a while to complete this i decided to do this in headcanon format.

i'm on writer's block so like, sorry for the short and horrible hcs

nonnie, i assume you meant reader with the personality of Dazai? because that's what i did, and reader is gn. hope you like it, nonnie!

𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚. || 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬; 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌.

𝘐𝘫𝘦𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘭;

ijekiel.exe has stopped working

he's so concerned-

At first, he's a bit off put by the whole mafia thing,

like.

r u ok.

comes to the conclusion that ur rlly not.

he honestly feels bad for you, he knows you're lonely

and once he learns that you're searching for a reason to live??

he's dumbstruck. he's never really thought of it, you see. he's lived a busy, stressful yet fairly luxurious life, so he didn't really question things like these.

now he is having an existential crisis

starts giving you small things, like a book to read before bed, or a new set of clothes that you didn't really need, for the third time that week and it's only Tuesday

𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦;

she follows you around because of concern and sympathy

she's so sweet ily jennette

finds out about the mafia and is like::

'why would you kill people?'

so you don't really explain much but she finds out

she feels horrible! she can't imagine what you must've gone through. hugs and desserts galore

you sneak her out to town sometimes, much to her delight

well,,, meet your self-proclaimed best friend <33

𝘓𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯;

is immediately a bit on her guard

even more on her guard after finding out that you're a member of the mafia

but then she learns about your suicidal tendencies

ahaha... she doesn't leave you alone

goes full mom mode on you

lily's cookies 🛐🛐

treats you like you're 3 but she really doesn't mean to--it's unintentional

will stop spoiling you if you ask, but will be a bit hurt

𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘶𝘴;

'wtf is wrong with this kid'

is his first thought

As though he's one to talk

anyways. really casual around you. as though you're a street kid and not a member of the mafia.

but deep inside, he feels really... uncomfortable?

i mean...he doesn't get it. why would you want to die?

has stopped you multiple times from suicide attempts and will keep stopping you.

'you gotta live, kid.'

𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹;

'uh... child that's a knife.'

'I know.'

'You'll die.'

'I know.'

'Painfully die.'

'I don't care.'

how you two met, basically

sweating on the inside, how do u interact with a mentally ill mafia member

tries his best to make you take an interest in life

brings you along to tea parties with claude and athy (its vvvv awkward)

gives you a tour of the palace grounds

tries to convince claude to let u and athy be besties

small things, but he's trying

𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦;

she is so weirded out

seriously, that hairstyle? that attitude? that no life personality?

oh honey no.

feels weird too. like, this kid (cause you're younger than her) wants to die. willingly die.

takes it like... you haven't died. why do you want to know what it feels like.

gives you the most expensive gifts. like, you need a separate room for those gifts. makes you eat with her even though all the meals are quite and deadass awkward cause both of you won't talk.

𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢;

look, diana approaches life in a free spirited way. she lives everyday like she doesn't truly care.

which might be true

anyways, thats not the point.

when she meets you, she's like::::

'okay what the fu-'

(although i highly doubt that diana would swear)

she catches you trying to commit once, and then she's like, 'Please don't do that ever again'

and no one can refuse diana

𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦;

oh.. you want to die? interesting. maybe he should indulge you.

'your majesty, no!' (felix)

aaanyways

he doesn't really care about you, he's just intrigued, after all, it's not everyday he comes across someone like this.

but as time goes on, he starts to see his younger self in you. and it unnerves him.

he thought he finally pushed away those memories, finally got away from his past

it kind of haunts him.

most of the time, he doesn't convey this directly to you, but if the massive pile of presents is any indication

𝘈𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘢;

..what-

she's trying to live

you're trying to die

swears that she won't let you die

and promises to give you reasons to live

athy 😭

[annymation]

How did the King and Queen change Aster's wish in Swap au?

Been a while since I've answered an ask about the swap AU.

Then again been a while since I've answered asks in general lol

But this gives me an opportunity to imagine an interaction between Swap!Magnifico and Swap!Amaya, and I won't let that pass because I kinda love them.

So here's how that same scenario from Kingdom of Wishes, when Asha was peeking through the door and sees the villains change her wish, would play out in the swap! AU.

Aster questioned everything he had ever known as he listened to the queen and king, changing the wishes from their people, laughing at their misery like this is just a normal routine for them. They've been doing this for years... And now the boy can only watch in horror and wonder... What will they do with his wish?

"Now darling" The queen chimed in, snapping Aster out of his thoughts "What shall our little birthday boy's fate be?" She asked, holding a wish bubble.

Aster's wish bubble.

Amaya took a closer look at it and scoffed "Ugh I should've guessed" she rolls her eyes as she shows the wish to her husband "He wishes to "Make others happy". How pitiful, a wish so vague after all that effort to squeeze it out of him"

She seemed quite frustrated with Aster's wish, to which he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing, maybe she might leave his wish alone and unchanged?

But her husband had other plans.

Aster felt his blood run cold as the king, whose usually so calm and reserved, now has a twisted smile painted on his face, as he clutched the bubble to ponder what to do with it

"Hmmmm the brat's wish certainly is quite vague, alright..." He agreed... But unlike her, he sees this as a golden opportunity "Which gives us a lot of creative liberty to mold it to our liking"

Amaya grins upon seeing his enthusiasm "I see you've got an idea, well then, don't keep me in the dark"

(See- see what I did there? In the original story Mag says "Enlighten me" but here in the swap AU Amaya says "Don't keep me in the dark"... I think that was neat)

"We want to keep that little birdie under our control, do we not?" the king refers to Aster as a bird, since he's an aspiring singer "What better way to do so than to... Cage him up?"

Aster doesn't like the sound of that at all. The boy feels his heart beating faster in fear.

"Ah if only we could lock him in the dungeon, but unfortunately, that'd raise suspicion" The queen lamented dramatically "I'm afraid we can't arrest a child that has committed no crimes"

"Oh but he has committed a crime my queen, the worse one of all" Magnifico said as he gently held his wife's hands, bowing his head devotedly "He raised his voice to you, and for that, I say we take that petulant voice away from him, along with everything he holds dear. I say we make him follow our every whim. I say... We make him a prince."

Aster's eyes widened... What?

"What?" The queen was suddenly unenthused, but she kept her composure "I'm not quite sure I follow, sweetie" She said calmly while caressing her husband's beard

"It's quite simple really. A prince would indeed bring happiness to our people, therefore, you can change his wish to that easily" He explained as he tapped his fingers on the orb with a menacing gleam in his eyes "Poor little Aster will have no clue, but his personality will be fully re-written to fit his new role, as our loyal heir"

Aster could not believe what he heard. He felt his legs shaking as he held on tightly to Valentino in his arms

(Yeah forgot to mention, Aster does have Valentino in this AU)

"And there's where my problem lies, dear..." Amaya felt a shiver run down her spine just by the thought "He'd be the heir to MY throne"

"Ooooh yeah, he would huh?" The king spoke more sarcastically, as he already had a plan to remedy that "It would be such a shame then if the boy, oh I don't know, chocked on some deeefnitely not poisoned piece of food, or maybe fell deathly ill, or perhaps simply fell, period." Magnifico was unhinged as he imagined all the ways he could get hid of Aster. But his face melts into a gentle and warm smile as he turns to his wife, who now seems more on board with his plan "You have nothing to worry yourself with, my goddess. I'll make sure he's out of sight and out of mind in the west wing tower, for as long as he lives... Which won't be that long at all heheeh"

The king chuckled darkly at that. While Aster feels a scream in the back of his throat.

The queen wasn't fully convinced yet, although she did like where this was going "Don't you think the people would find odd if the boy died right after being put under our care?"

"They never found odd when your sister passed all those years ago, I'm sure it'll be no different now" he shrugged dismissively, the wickedness of his smile only growing more and more as he handed the bubble to his wife "If anything, the "tragedy" will give us even more sympathy points"

The queen held the wish, with her mind made up "Your cunning little mind never fails to impress, mi rey" she praised him gently, as he gazed upon her with eyes full of love and devotion.

And with her magic, the queen proceeded to twist Aster's simple wish of fitting in Rosas, to the desire of being their loyal prince, much to Aster's horror as they could only watch from behind that large door, holding in tears.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruh this is how I know my writing improved cause' like, I just conveyed the same thing from the original scene, but with the dialogue shorter.

[unromancable-favs]

A BUNCH of dark brotherhood incorrect quotes i got from the generator

listener: If I ever had a child, I imagine they would be a lot like you.

astrid: Aww, thanks—

listener: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

----

astrid: Okay, can we all stop saying stupid shit for a moment, please?!

arnbjorn: Alright.

cicero: Hey, I-

astrid: SHUT UP!

cicero: I HAVEN'T EVEN FINISHED MY SENTENCE!!

arnbjorn: It was bound to be stupid.

----

listener: cicero, how could you possibly have gotten into this much trouble in one day?

cicero: It... It didn't take me the whole day...

----

listener, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be?

cicero: Well, that's you.

listener: Me?! Is that what I look like?

cicero: You don't know?

listener: Busy day.

----

arnbjorn: Why do you not believe that ghosts are real?

veezara: Never seen one.

arnbjorn: Okay, I mean, there’s a lot of things that you can’t see that are real.

veezara: What can’t I see?

arnbjorn: You can’t see gravity. That’s real.

veezara: Yeah, I can drop an apple.

arnbjorn: Fuck.

----

cicero: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.

nazir: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

----

listener: What are you eating?

nazir: You wouldn't like it, it's really salty.

listener: I like you, don't I?

----

astrid: *visiting the squad* Hello, I just came to-

astrid: *sees cicero shoving veezara into the washing machine while listener records and nazir watches*

astrid: *retreating* Something suddenly came up.

(doesnt really make sense, but if it were a modern au? 👌)

----

cicero: What’s sexting?

astrid: I'm not having this conversation with you.

----

arnbjorn: Would you rather kill cicero, or—

astrid: Yes, kill them.

arnbjorn: I didn’t say the other thing—

astrid: I don’t need to hear it.

cicero: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

----

cicero: *writing a letter*

cicero: Dear Santa,

I'm writing to let you know I've been naughty...

And it was worth it you fat, judgemental bastard.

----

cicero: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

----

nazir, to the rest of the brotherhood: And remember, if I get harsh with you it is only because you’re doing it all wrong.

----

cicero: If you see me talking to myself, go away! I’m self-employed and we’re having a staff meeting!

----

listner: That shirt looks great, astrid.

astrid: Thanks.

listner: But I bet it would look even better on arnbjorn's floor.

arnbjorn: Are you hitting on astrid... for me?

----

nazir, handing out popsicles: Which flavor do you want?

babette: Blue flavor!

nazir: Uh, you mean Blue Raspberry?

babette: Blue flavor! Blue flavor!

nazir: Blue is not a flavor!

babette: BLUE FLAVOR!

----

astrid: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

arnbjorn, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

----

listener: Nice rock.

cicero: Thanks, nazir gave it to me.

nazir: I threw it at you!

cicero: Aren't they the sweetest?

----

nazir, to cicero: All right, let’s tell each other a secret about ourselves. I’m going to go first– I hate you.

----

nazir: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done.

astrid: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real.

nazir: They're not.

astrid: Haha, very funny.

nazir: I'm serious. Didn't you hear?

astrid: No... what happened?

nazir: ...Why would you fall for this again-

(nazir is a girlboss)

----

listner: I was put on this earth to do one thing.

listner(LDB): Luckily I forgot what it was so I can do whatever I want.

----

nazir: Okay, what does A stand for?

babette: Arson.

nazir: Aw, you're so good. Okay! B! What does B stand for?

babette: Barson.

astrid: *laughter*

nazir: What stands for C?

babette: Commit arson.

astrid: Oooo. nazir: D!

babette: Don't come near me, I'm going to commit arson.

astrid: *more laughter*

----

nazir: I just heard babette call the dog a “fucking liar” because he barked like someone was at the door and no one was there.

(By the dog he means arnbjorn/j)

----

*cicero is comforting arnbjorn*

cicero: Stop crying because it’s over. Start smiling because astrid is someone else’s problem now.

----

listner: Hey, cicero, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

cicero: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

listner: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

cicero: Can't really say I have.

listner: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.

cicero: Sorry, listner. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

[kyriat-stories]

It was a difficult time for the family. At the second burial they decided to have just a small gathering for the closest family. Although almost a year had passed, the grief and loss after Simadhne were strongly present in everyone's lives.

Tychon, who had had a particularly close relationship with Simadhne, was probably the one who missed her the most. He was not a toddler anymore, and was usually a levelheaded child, but sometimes he was seen talking intensely with someone, claiming it was his giagia. When asked if he could actually see her he admitted he couldn't. "But I can feel her!" he said.

During these months, Mpatíni became, almost imperceptibly, part of the family. It started with her being asked to do work indoors.

Then, she became the natural babysitter and caretaker for the little ones, when Noor and Teo were busy elsewhere.

But the big change came after a particularly hot late summer evening when Noor had asked her to take a break from work and a have a glass of pomegranate juice and a chat. They were talking about this and that, tasks in house, and the latest funny episodes with the kids.

- So how was your childhood Mpatíni? Was it happy? I understand your mother passed away early? That must have been hard for you and your brother. And she was very pretty from what I understand?

- Oh yes, she was beautiful, and very kind too. We all loved her so much, and it was a huge loss when she died.

- I can imagine, it's a terrible thing when your parent dies. But what exactly happened to her? Did she become ill?

- I was only eight winters so I didn't really understand what happened. But it started after she got an assignment at the palace. My father said the royal family poisoned her.

- Poisoned her?!

- Yes I know it's hard to believe, but at the same time, something did change after her stay there. She was never the same after that.

- What do you mean? What changed?

- Well, like she used to sing all the time. Her name was Mpistaméni, but my father always called her "Kanarini", like the canary bird, because she had such a lovely voice. That's why she was invited to perform for the royal family. But when she came back, she never sang again.

- My sweet Astanna..., Noor could barely speak. I think I know what happened to your mother.

- You do? You were there?! You knew my mother?

- No, my child, I don't think I ever met your mother, and for sure, if I did, only briefly. I didn't know her. And I wasn't there when the bad things happened. But I know, because I... Well, I can't tell you how, but I do know.

- But how Kyria Noor? I don't understand? What happened to her? You have to tell me!

- I can't explain it to you right now, I'm sorry. Anyway it's getting dark. Maybe you want to stay here tonight?

- Thank you Kyria Noor, but I think my brother will be very worried if I don't come back to the camp.

- Okay, then at least let Teo follow you. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you.

It was the first time Noor openly let the two youths be together alone. They were surprised, but happy. Something had definitely changed.

.

Previous | Index | Character overview | Next

[moons-cozy-corner]

Hello Humanity

Trigger Warnings: Child death. Death. Blood. Mourning. Gore.

This is real life.

Hello humanity. My name is Moon. I am 18 years old. I am a gender-nonconforming individual. I am mentally ill. I am disabled. I am a sister. A friend. A savior. A failure. I suppose I am a lot of things.

I am also a writer. And as such it is my job to use symbols on a page to make you feel something. An emotion.

Emotion. A natural instinctive state of mind deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others. Instinctive or intuitive feeling as distinguished from reasoning or knowledge.

That is what emotion is. The literal dictionary definition, at least. But as a writer, I see emotion as this. Imagine laying on a field of grass. There is an endless sky above you. With so little description, your brain fills in the rest. Those extra details--those are derived from your emotions.

Whether you saw a purple-pink sky with cotton clouds, on tall, soft grass filled with fireflies. Or perhaps sharp blades sticking into your stiff back as you grimace up at smokey skies, tinged red? Or perhaps you saw exactly as I described, a canvas unpainted by the words of an artist, a numb emptiness. All of which are valid. All of which are emotional.

Now I will paint you a picture. Follow along if you can.

A child opens their eyes, grubby hand grasping their chest as they breathe heavily, tears pricking their eyes. They are met by silence, only accompanied by their own heavy breathing. The world around them is soft. Soft in all the ways the world can be. Dirt white and smooth as clouds, sprouting flowers of soft pastels, the sky a kind blue. Their jaw unclenches, their eyes rush around not in fear, but in curiosity. How did they get here? Where were they? Where was everyone else?

And they turned around, and children are laughing. Running in all directions chasing after butterflies, pointing at birds, smiling. Happy in the simplest of ways. When the group of children spots the child, they stop, all staring. But they realize-its another friend! They greet them with open arms, an older child picking them up and holding them close, carrying them over to the rest of the group.

The child goes with giddiness and a newfound peace in their heart, something they know they have missed, but they cannot seem to remember why.

Little does the child know that the warmth they feel is not of an older child carrying them over to play, but their mothers arms surrounding them, or what is left of them, in the white sheet they are covered in. A mother kissing blossoms of warmth into an ever-cold body. A child that used to smile and laugh and play while their home lie miles away in rubble.

A woman places shaking crimson fingertips onto crumbled stone. Stone under which she knows some of her child's organs are buried. Rubble that crushed her baby into piece's that can never be reassembled again.

A father stares into the once kind blue sky, now gray, holding plastic shopping bags in each hand by his side. He imagines his child playing in the sky with all the others, their organs in their bodies as they reside with Allah, not in plastic baggies covered in dirt.

Do you like the picture? Do you like the progression of words that I drew out for you to see? The content I placed in front of you?

Oh. You don't? I see.

You see, I don't much like it either. Because I didn't make this story. I wrote it out for you, yes. But this story is far from fictional.

We sit on the other side of the screen, holding the proof of genocide in our hands. We sit and cry in our warm beds, warm showers, warm food and clothes, and hope that these people are saved.

Some of us don't.

So I am calling Humanity. Can she hear me?

I am a writer. I am really still only a child I can only do so much but I sit here, doing more than people twice my age.

Can you fucking hear me?

I am a writer. I cry over the words I write because they convey the truth of the world. My fingertips see my emotion into each little symbol I type. If this screen were paper you would see my tears.

You will hear me.

No. You will hear THEM.

The people of Gaza. The Palestinians who have died, the ones screaming for your help. The ones missing limbs, losing their eyesight, becoming orphaned, widowed, childless, homeless, lifeless.

The people of Congo. Those who are being enslaved so you can have the device you are using to read this right now, including children.

The people of the world who are dying at the brutal, unrelenting hands of those in charge of us.

2023 was not the start of any of this. And it will not be the end.

Hello Humanity. Their names are multiplying. Their ages are too young to justify. They are queer, religious, disabled, mentally ill, kind, creative, just. They are scared. I suppose they are a lot of things.

But are you Humane enough to speak up?

I will be using the tags I would use on a normal whump story to reach my writing community and those who would normally find my blog. My target audience is not those who would be looking under the Palestine tags. That is the reason for the unrelated tags. Thank you for reading. Free Palestine. Free Congo. Free Sudan. Free humanity.