#i still think if i try hard enough i will someday magically discover i was bisexual all along. if i just focus really hard.

[butchviking]

like its not enough to just have the general natural struggles that are going to come with being part of a minority group its not enough to feel kind of isolated and weird and different and left out of things for being gay theyve got to actually make a point of telling you youre bad and youre doing something wrong or its a moral fault or something like you could choose to be different. if i could choose to be into dudes i would in a heartbeat and its not even because of the homophobes its not because of anyone who tries to actively make me feel like theres something wrong with me its just because of the general sense of social alienation from the majority of people being heterosexual. the actual homophobia is just like. pointless and unnecessary girl if i could change this i already would've so what do you think you're doing here. what do you think you're achieving.

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

[pillage-and-lute]

Hi, this is a Monday Evening Prompt: How about Jaskier coming to Kaer Morhen and bringing little presents for all the wolves? Could be his first visit or not. Have a nice evening!

Hi Petrificustotaluss! I really did some worldbuilding here.

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Geralt could smell the anxiety rolling off of Jaskier in waves all the way up to Kaer Morhen. The bard was practically vibrating out of his travel cloak. On the few stops on their way up the mountain he didn’t sing, choosing instead to pluck repetitive tunes on his lute. 

Their last stop before the keep was in a cave, long used by witchers returning home. This last haven before home always brought out something deep and maybe even proud in Geralt’s chest. 

The cave was not large, but deep enough that the weather didn’t permeate. Geralt lead Roach to the back, where centuries of hooves had worn a groove, and threw her blanket over her. Jaskier rubbed her nose affectionately, looking around in wonder, despite the fading light.

Geralt began setting a fire in the ring of stones left behind by one of his brothers. Two slashes were carved into the side of a larger stone. Lambert then, a sign left for whichever of his brothers cam behind.

Fire flared and Jaskier gasped. Every witcher who had stayed in the cave, since its presence had been discovered, had carved their name into the wall. Jaskier stepped immediately to the back of the cave, tracing names almost worn away with trembling hands. 

Geralt took his hand and guided his fingertips and his feet closer to the mouth of the cave. Jaskier brushed his thumb over the V in Vesemir. 

“Your name...?”

Geralt found it for him.

“I couldn’t read yet,” he whispered, when he found the marks he sought. “You know how the letters switch in my mind. Eskel told me what to carve.” 

The names were right next to one another and Jaskier pressed one hand against them, as if he was trying to reach into the past. 

“Lambert’s is here,” Geralt said, voice almost a whisper. It felt appropriate here. 

Jaskier traced it gently, too. 

They sat down to eat without much talking, unusual for the bard, but this much history could be oppressive for anyone. There were drawings among the names and Jaskier kept glancing at them. 

After dinner they huddled together, backs against one of the walls.

“That one,” Geralt said, pointing to the back of the cave, “That’s the first version of the wolf on my medallion.” He had smelled the anxiety rising on Jaskier’s scent again, and hoped talking could keep it at bay. 

“There,” he pointed again. “That’s Gawain of Ymlac’s  name, almost faded. He’s famous, bards wrote about his fight with a knight, Bertilak the Green.”

“I know the story,” Jaskier said, eyes wide. “But the way it’s always told, Gawain is a knight.”

Geralt shook his head. “Gawain was considered one of the best of us, but he was no knight. Bertilak visited here too, but he could not write, few could in those days.”

“So his name isn’t here?” Jaskier sounded disappointed.

“It is, the rough carving of the tree, beneath Gawain’s name, is his. It was the sigil on his shield.”

Jaskier’s eyes were so round he looked like a child at Yuletide.

“There,” Geralt pointed, “is the name of another famous visitor. I wonder if you know him.”

Jaskier stood and walked over. “Here?” he asked. “Taliesin, I’ve never heard the name, was he from another witcher school?”

“No,” Geralt said, walking to Jaskier’s side. “A sorceror and a bard. I think you would know him better by another name.” He couldn’t resist the dramatic pause. Jaskier looked up at him, hanging on his words.

“I believe they call him...” Jaskier leaned in. “Merlin.”

“Never!” Jaskier cried, hopping back. “Geralt you’re pulling my leg!”

“I am not,” Geralt said. “He wrote notes in some of the books in the library.”

Jaskier was no longer nervous, hopping about in excitement. 

“Which ones? Do you know? I have to read them all. Geralt can you think of the stories!”

Geralt chuckled. 

“This one,” he said. “Is Aiden’s signature.” It was hard to read, the rock was soft, but carving was still difficult work.

“Lambert’s friend?”

Geralt nodded. “From the cat school. I think you’ll like him.” The pair of them would probably manage to burn the keep down.

Jaskier looked around him with a stunned grin. Geralt pulled out the heavy work knife he kept at his thigh and offered it to Jaskier, hilt first.

“What?”

“Well you need to carve your name, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s eyes filled. “Really?”

“Of course, someday someone will point out the name of Jaskier, the Continent’s famous bard.”

Jaskier grinned bashfully. He sat at the wall of the cave and scratched out his name. It was slow going for a human, without magic or mutant strength, but he did. Then he began a new carving.

Geralt didn’t ask yet, but restocked the fire and waited. 

At last Jaskier pulled back, there was the carving from Geralt’s medallion, a lark, and a flower. 

Geralt felt his chest tighten, but in a warm way. 

That night, beside eachother in their bedrolls, Jaskier tossed and turned.

“Stop,” Geralt said. “Sleep, it will be alright.”

“The ground is hard,” Jaskier said. 

“They’ll like you,” Geralt said. “You’re my-” friend, he wanted to finish. The word couldn’t seem to break from between his lips. 

“Bard,” he finished lamely. “They know that, they’ll respect it.”

Jaskier gave a little twitch that was maybe a shrug under the layers of fabric.

“They’ll see what I see,” Geralt said.

“A fillingless pie?” Jaskier said jokingly. Some of the anxiety had gone, though. 

Geralt huffed. “Everyone knows the crust is the best part, anyway.”

He rolled over and went to sleep. 

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

They arrived at the gates of Kaer Morhen midmorning the next day. Jaskier was looking around in awe, taking in the crumbling architecture. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Geralt was about to respond but was tackled into a snowdrift by his younger brother.

Geralt laughed and tossed Lambert off him, only for Eskel to join the fray, the three of them scrapping and laughing, rolling about the courtyard. 

Vesemir pulled them apart by their collars. Then he nuzzled Geralt before gruffly ruffling his hair. “Welcome back, lad,” he said.

Jaskier was looking on wide-eyed, but Geralt didn’t have time to explain the odd greeting because Eskel was next. 

His brother gave him a rib shaking hug and roughly grated his cheek along Geralt’s, snuffling a little as he took in his brother’s scent. 

Lambert, still a pup, didn’t wait his turn and butted his cheek agains Geralt’s other one, then delivered a bit of a nip to Geralt’s ear. He pulled back looking a little embarrassed, but the brother’s understood, sometimes the wolf instinct was a little strong.

“Um,” Jaskier said. Four pairs of golden eyes turned to look at him.

“I’m Jaskier, Geralt’s bard...should I greet you like a wolf or....?” He stuck out his hand awkwardly.

“A handshake is fine, lad,” Vesemir said, taking the bard’s offered hand. Geralt watched Jaskier almost not wince as his fingers were, accidentally, ground together. “The wolf is just a little stonger in winter for my boys.”

Geralt noticed that Vesemir’s nostrils still flared as he took in Jaskier’s unfamiliar scent, but didn’t say anything.

Eskel and Lambert both somewhat sheepishly shook the bard’s hand. Then the little party unloaded Roach and continued into the great hall.

Jaskier gratefully warmed his hands at the fire before sitting at the table with the rest of the witchers. He began digging in his pack.

“I, uh, I brought gifts,” he said, pulling out packages. “Since I’m your guest and all.”

Vesemir huffed good naturedly “still put you to work, guest or no,” he said.

“Of course,” Jaskier said. He looked around. “I have one for Aiden too? Is he here?”

“Eavesdropping,” Lambert said. A witcher slunk around a doorway and sat next to him, not even bothering to look ashamed. He was of a leaner build than the wolves, more wiry.

Aiden extended a hand to Jaskier, who took it politely. 

“I’ve heard good things,” he purred. 

“Thank you.”

“Heard you’ve tamed Pretty Boy.”

Geralt snarled, mostly playfully.

Jaskier smiled. “I get him to take a bath once in a while, I’m not sure it counts as tame.” It got a chuckle from Aiden, and Geralt felt his sanity slipping away already as he pictured their friendship. 

“Um,” Jaskier said, proffering a package to Vesemir. The old wolf took it with a nod and pulled at the rough twine. 

“Candles,” Vesmir said, looking at the slightly misshapen lumps in front of him. Four of them, in waxed paper, and an odd color, a pale, pale green. Geralt realised it first, but Vesemir said the name before him.

“Strydwen wax,” he said approvingly. “Burns without smoke or heat. Never goes out or melts away. Thank you.” 

The ‘thank you’ was said with a resonance that Geralt had never been able to master. It sort of took up place in your chest and stayed there. Jaskier fairly glowed with it.

“For Eskel,” he said, handing another package over. 

Eskel smiled at him and pulled apart the wrapping to reveal a large, leatherbound book.

“Poetry,” Eskel said delightedly.

“Newly published by a former professor of mine,” Jaskier confirmed. Eskel examined the cover.

“You studied under Rumi?” Eskel looked impressed.

“Six semesters,” Jaskier said ruefully. “He isn’t an easygoing grader.”

The final two gifts were dispensed at the same time, and Lambert and Aiden tore into their packages to find twin daggers, balanced for combat, not throwing. 

Lambert admired the round stone set into the end. Geralt, trained in the same school, figured he was picturing bludgeoning someone with it.

“Twist it,” Jaskier suggested. Lambert gave it a go.

The stone on Aiden’s dagger glowed faintly. 

Aiden twisted his and Lamber’s glowed, both fading after a few seconds.

“To communicate?” Aiden asked.

Jaskier nodded shyly. “I thought...for when you separate on the Path.”

Lambert grinned at him, his smile all teeth. “It’s perfect, I’ll annoy him with it constantly.”

The table descended into cheerful bickering and Jaskier sat back, smiling. He looked at Geralt and a furrow laid itself on his brow.

“I should have given you a gift.”

Geralt looked at his cheerful family, thought of a song that made witchers’ lives easier like a magic spell, a companion. He thought of a cave full of stories, with his and Jaskier’s carved together.

“You have.”

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Some history notes! Because I’m a nerd! Gawain of of Ymlac and Bertilak the Green are of course a reference to the Arthurian legend of Gawain and the Green Knight. 

Taliesin is also a reference to Arthurian legend, being a famous 6th century Welsh bard, one of the first bards we know of who told the tales of Arthur (although many of the stories are based in pagan sun god myth). Over centuries, the name Taliesin sometimes appears in Arthurian legend as another sorcerer, a wise sage, a poet, a demi-godly figure, or another name for Merlin. I picture Jaskier’s story sometime much later becoming something like Taliesin’s on the Continent.

Jaskier’s former professor is  Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, a 13th century Persian poet.

Also, I couldn’t resist having our wolves greet eachother as such. It’s too cute and I’m taking this headcanon as canon. Permanently.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Disney Songs That Hit Different™ When You’re Autistic, a full Spotify Playlist

Open to updates should anyone notice a song I missed!

Tracklist and specific lyrics that fuck me up under the cut: 

The World Above - The Little Mermaid Broadway Production

“It’s like my life was wrong And somehow, now, at last I’m in My own skin Up here in the world above!”

“The sun’s so bright here Upon my face! It feels so right here Warm as love... Life seems to be Almost calling to me...” - stimmy 

Belle - Beauty and the Beast 

“The bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story. About a beanstalk and an ogre and a—” - y’all ever been interrupted on an infodump and then realize nobody cared? yeah that feeling 

“Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question Dazed and distracted, can't you tell? Never part of any crowd Cause her head's up on some cloud No denying she’s a funny girl, that Belle...”

“[That one? But you've read it twice!] It's my favorite. Far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise...” - SPECIAL INTEREST 

“Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar I wonder if she's feeling well With a dreamy, far-off look And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle...”

“Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him till chapter three...” - IF NOBODY LISTENS TO MY INFODUMP I SHALL INFODUMP TO SHEEP

“But behind that fair façade I'm afraid she's rather odd Very diff'rent from the rest of us She's nothing like the rest of us...”

More - deleted song from Moana

honestly the entire song is a bit “want to break off and learn about special interest / be in my own world / be myself” mood 

“The other kids just dance and play How can you play? There's so much out there to explore...”

“She stares at the sky, she stumbles down the beaches She mumbles all the names that her Gramma Tala teaches With one foot here and another in a distant past She’s growing up too fast...”

Part of Your World - The Little Mermaid 

not only a BIG SPECIAL INTEREST MOOD... big “i don’t belong here” mood...

“Look at this trove, treasures untold How many wonders can one cavern hold? Looking around here, you'd think Sure, she's got everything” “I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty I've got whooz-its and whats-its galore You want thing-a-mabobs? I've got twenty But who cares? No big deal. I want more!”

“Betcha on land, they understand Bet they don't reprimand their daughters Bright young women, sick of swimmin', Ready to stand...”

“When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love, Love to explore that shore up above?”

More Than Just the Spare - deleted song from Frozen 

“I'm not part of the town, not born to be queen Just somebody hopelessly in-between She's the scholar, athlete, poet I'm the screw up, don't I know it...”

“I may lack style and I may lack grace And once in a while I fall on my face But this little button deserves a place in the sky This button wants to fly- Wait, buttons can't fly, it doesn't make any sense!”

“And maybe I can't be the perfect one And maybe I err on the side of fun...”

“Someday I'll find my thing, a thing that's all my own That thing that makes me part of something, not just all alone If only all this feeling I have in my heart, could mean something to someone, how I'd love to play that part!”

“Like a button, like a horseshoe Like a girl who's bad at metaphors!”

Proud of Your Boy - Aladdin Broadway Production 

“So say I'm slow for my age A late bloomer, Okay, I agree...”

“But I'll get over these lousin' up Messin' up, screwin' up times You'll see, Ma, now comes the better part Someone's gonna make good, cross his stupid heart Make good and finally make you proud of your boy...”

“Say I'm a goldbrick, a good-off, no good But that couldn't be all that I am...”

“Though I can't make myself taller Or smarter or handsome or wise I'll do my best, what else can I do? Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you Mom, I will try to try hard to make you Proud of your boy...”

Let Me Make You Proud - Tangled: The Series

“Maybe I make things a mess And maybe you're right to have doubts in me Maybe, but nevertheless If you for once could just trust me...”

“And when I return And I'm more than you dreamt I'd be Maybe then you will realize That you never actually knew me at all...”

“Cause I long for that look of surprise When you see your son rising at last...”

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog 

“Ain't got time for messin' around And it's not my style...”

“But I know exactly where I'm going Getting closer and closer every day...”

“People down here think I'm crazy But I don't care Trials and tribulations, I've had my share...”

Home - deleted song from Frozen 2 

BIG routine song

“Wandering through the town with everyone doing all of their stuff Somewhere in my heart I feel I've not yet done enough For these people I know, this place that I love so...”

“I know how fragile things can be. If I lost them, I'd lose me They're my ocean, they're my shore. I wanna give them more...”

In a World of My Own / Very Good Advice - mashup cover of Alice in Wonderland 

“They would sit and talk to me for hours When I'm lonely in a world of my own...”

“I could listen to a babbling brook And hear a song that I could understand I keep wishing it could be that way Because my world would be a wonderland...”

“I give myself very good advice But I very seldom follow it That explains the trouble that I'm always in...”

“Be patient is very good advice But the waiting makes me curious And I'd love the change Should something strange begin...”

“Will I ever learn to do the things I should?” 

Reflection - Mulan

“Now I see that if I were truly to be myself I would break my family's heart...”

“Somehow I cannot hide Who I am, though I've tried...”

“How I pray that a time will come I can free myself from their expectations On that day, I'll discover someway to be myself And to make my family proud...”

“They want a docile lamb, no-one knows who I am Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide? Must I pretend that I'm someone else for all time?”

If I Wasn’t So Small - Piglet’s Big Movie 

“It's not as if I want to rule the world Or even the forest, or even one tree I suppose I could be happy, if I could be helpful With just a little bit of noticing me...”

“I'd be needed and useful More each passing day...”

Jack’s Lament - The Nightmare Before Christmas 

“Oh somewhere deep inside of these bones An emptiness began to grow There's something out there far from my home A longing that I've never known...”

Everything I Ever Thought I Knew - Tangled: The Series

“I thought no one could love me And how could I have known? I was wrong, oh so wrong...” “Then I thought I found it, a dream that I could share I thought I was so lucky, it almost wasn't fair I thought I knew my purpose, I thought that I knew where I belong But I was wrong...”

“Now that it's all crumbling, help me understand If none of it was really me then who am I supposed to be?”

“I guess my life meant nothing I guess it was a sham I guess I'm someone else now I wonder who I am...”

I’ll Try - Return to Neverland

“I am not a child now I can take care of myself I mustn't let them down now Mustn't let them see me cry...”

“My whole world is changing I don't know where to turn I can't leave you waiting But I can't stay and watch the city burn...”

Waiting in the Wings (Reprise) - Tangled: The Series

“I craved so much, and yet I kept on waiting One glance, one touch, and I just kept on waiting...”

Waiting in the Wings - Tangled: The Series 

“Guess we all are born with parts to play Some of us are stars, and some are just in the way I know I was meant for glory But that's never what my story brings And yet I keep on waiting...”

“When you have the passion and the drive You expect your moment centre stage to arrive I show up with heart ablazing Ready to achieve amazing things But I'm left waiting in the wings...”

“It's always someone else who sings While I'm left waiting in the wings...”

“Always overlooked unfairly, while pretending that it barely stings But it stings, yes, it stings...” 

I’m Still Here (Jim Theme) - Treasure Planet

“I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms...”

“And how can you learn what's never shown Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me, cause I'm not here...”

“And I want to tell you who I am Can you help me be a man? They can't break me As long as I know who I am...”

“They can't tell me who to be Cause I'm not what they see Yeah, the world is still sleeping While I keep on dreaming for me And their words are just whispers and lies That I'll never believe...”

“And I want a moment to be real Want to touch things I don't feel Wanna hold on, and feel I belong And how can you say I'll never change They're the ones that stay the same I'm the one now Cause I'm still here!”

God Help the Outcasts - The Hunchback of Notre Dame 

“Yes, I know I'm just an outcast I shouldn't speak to You Still, I see Your face and wonder Were You once an outcast, too?”

“God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don't find on earth God help my people - we look to You, still God help the outcasts or nobody will...”

“Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God?”

So Close - Enchanted 

honestly the entirety of enchanted is an autism mood but, 

“So close to reaching That famous happy end Almost believing This one's not pretend...”

Into the Unknown - cover of Frozen 2

“There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whisper which I wish would go away...”

“I’ve had my adventure, I don’t need something new...”

“Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I am really meant to be?“

“Are you out there? [Do you know me?]  Can you feel me? Can you show me?”

Someone’s Waiting For You - The Rescuers 

“Don't cry, little one There'll be a smile where a frown use to be You'll be part of the love that you see...”

Sally’s Song - The Nightmare Before Christmas 

“I sense there's something in the wind That feels like tragedy's at hand And though I'd like to stand by him Can't shake this feeling that I have...”

“Although I'd like to join the crowd In their enthusiastic cloud Try as I may, it doesn't last...”

Someday - The Hunchback of Notre Dame Off-Broadway Production 

“Someday, when we are wiser When the world's older, when we have learned I pray someday we may yet live To live and let live...”

“Someday, these dreams will all be real Til then we'll wish upon the moon Change will come, one day  Someday soon...”

Where Do I Go From Here - Pocahontas II: Journey to a New World

“They do what they must for now And trust in their plan If I trust in mine, somehow I might find who I am...”

“The path ahead's so hard to see It winds and bends but where it ends Depends on only me In my heart I don't feel part of so much I've known Now it seems it's time to start A new life on my own...”

Wherever You Are - Pooh’s Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin 

“I'm out here in the dark, all alone and wide awake Come and find me I'm empty and I'm cold, and my heart's about to break Come and find me...”

“I need you to come here and find me Cause without you, I'm totally lost I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far...”

“I used to believe in forever, But forever’s too good to be true...”

Belle (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast 

“And for once it might be grand To have someone understand I want so much more than they've got planned...”

Endless Night - The Lion King Broadway Production 

“Home is an empty dream Lost to the night Father, I feel so alone...”

“I know that the night must end I know that the sun will rise...”

Set Yourself Free - Tangled: The Series 

“Locked inside a tower, kept behind a wall Sheltered from a world you’ve barely known That’s the way they treat you...”

“There's much more inside of you than anyone can see And now the choice is yours, life waits beyond the doors So step on through, the time has come And only you can set yourself free!”

“So use the gifts you're given Make the world your own Look inside your heart and find the key...”

“Bound up by your worries Trapped by your mistakes Forced to play a role you never chose...”

“No more letting someone else define you to a T You know that you are strong You've known it all along...”

Let it Go - Frozen Broadway Production

“The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know!”

“I don't care what they're going to say Let the storm rage on The cold never bothered me anyway...”

“It’s time to see what I can do  To test the limits and break through  No right, no wrong, no rules for me  I’m free!”

“Let it go, let it go And I’ll rise like the break of dawn! Let it go, let it go  That perfect girl is gone!”

How Far I’ll Go (Reprise) - Moana 

“All that time wondering where I need to be is behind me I'm on my own to worlds unknown...”

Colors of the Wind - Pocahontas 

“You think the only people who are people Are the people who look and think like you But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew...”

Strangers Like Me - Tarzan 

when u meet another autistic person.... 

“Whatever you do, I'll do it, too Show me everything and tell me how It all means something And yet nothing to me...”

“I can see there's so much to learn It's all so close and yet so far I see myself as people see me Oh, I just know there's something bigger out there...”

Beyond My Wildest Dreams - The Little Mermaid Broadway Production 

“Look over there! Oh my god! How very odd! And what might they be? Something splendid, maybe! Look over here! Could you bust? Isn't it just bedazzling, dazing, utterly amazing! Gazing 'round, it's like, to die! Just seeing it feels so good, I'd scream if I only could!”

“Just keeps on gawking- Weird how she's not talking!”

“I'd hoped and wished My life would feel enchanted! Wished and prayed The fates would hear my plea...”

Watch What Happens - Newsies Broadway Production 

“’Write what you know’ So they say, all I know is I don't know what to write Or the right way to write it...”

“It could practically write itself And let's pray it does, cause as I may have mentioned I have no clue what I'm doing!”

“Speak up, take a stand, and there's someone to write about it That's how things get better...”

[also. the squeal.]

“Like someone said, "Power tends to corrupt" And absolute power, wait, wait, corrupts? Absolutely, that is genius! But give me some time, I'll be twice as good as that six months from never...”

“Just look around at the world we're inheriting And think of the one we'll create...”

“Give those kids and me the brand new century and watch what happens It's David and Goliath, do or die The fight is on and I can't watch what happens But all I know is nothing happens if you just give in It can't be any worse than how it's been And it just so happens that we just might win So whatever happens, let's begin!”

Son of Man - Tarzan 

“Oh, the power to be strong and the wisdom to be wise All these things will come to you in time On this journey that you're making, there'll be answers that you'll seek And it's you who'll climb the mountain It's you who'll reach the peak...”

“Though there's no one there to guide you, no one to take your hand But with faith and understanding You will journey from boy to man...”

“In learning you will teach and in teaching you will learn You'll find your place beside the ones you love Oh, and all the things you dreamed of, the visions that you saw Well, the time is drawing near now It's yours to claim it all!”

Strange Sight - Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbeast 

“You stand in the light You're wrong, but you're right And my heart's beating wildly Strange how I'm scared but delighted Afraid, but excited too!”

“Do you long to be left all alone? Set apart with a heart made of stone? Let me help, let's begin Let me learn, won't you let me in? All the light, let it show...”

“You are a strange sight, some new kind of wonder With good hidden under, I'm sure that it's true Strange how your dark doesn't faze me...”

Wind in My Hair - Tangled: The Series 

“What if the doors began to open? What if the knots became untied? What if one day, nothing stood in my way And the world was mine?”

“Plenty of mysteries to unravel Tons of mistakes to not regret So much to see, and to do and to be A whole life to spend And it doesn't end...”

For a Moment - The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea 

“This way is left, but which way is right? Well, now I'll be circling in circles all night...” - direction problems amirite

“This is more than my thoughts ever thought it could be For a moment, just a moment, lucky me...”

“For a moment, I can feel, All the dreams I've been dreaming are real, Wish my mother could hear it, the sea is my song For a moment, just a moment I belong...”

Speechless - Aladdin 2019 Remake

i would like to send this song to autism $peaks (hate group) underlined in red and with a photo attached of me with a middle finger up 

“Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under Swallowing sand, left with nothing to say. My voice drowned out in the thunder...”

“Written in stone, every rule, every word Centuries old and unbending ‘Stay in your place, better seen and not heard.’ Well, now that story is ending!”

“Let the storm in! I cannot be broken! No, I won't live unspoken! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!”

“Try to lock me in this cage! I won't just lay me down and die! I will take these broken wings And watch me burn across the sky!”

“I won't be silenced! Though you wanna see me tremble when you try it, All I know is I won't go speechless, speechless! Cause I'll breathe when they try to suffocate me! Don't you underestimate me! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!”

Show Yourself - Frozen 2 

the siren call... stimmy

“Something is familiar, like a dream I can reach but not quite hold I can sense you there, like a friend I've always known I'm arriving, it feels like I am home...”

“I have always been a fortress Cold secrets deep inside...”

“Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life? Show yourself! I'm ready to learn...”

“I've never felt so certain! All my life, I've been torn But I'm here for a reason- could it be the reason I was born? I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?”

“I am found!”

“You are the one you've been waiting for All of your life...”

Here I Am - Camp Rock 

“They tell you a good girl is quiet and that you should never ask why Cause it only makes it harder to fit in And you should be happy, excited, even if you're just invited Cause the winners need someone to clap for them...”

“It's so hard just waiting in a line that never moves It's time you started making your own rules...”

“If how you’re living isn't working there's one thing that'll help You got to finally just stop searching and find yourself...”

“The world better make some room Yea move over, over Cause you’re coming through!”

“You gotta scream until there's nothing left With your last breath Say here I am! Here I am! Make em listen Cause there is no way you'll be ignored Not anymore...”

Us Against the Universe - Phineas and Ferb: The Movie - Candace Against the Universe

“I used to feel alone, just me against the raging tide, But I guess I should've known that you were always on my side. Now I don't have to be an island, cause you've been there all the while, and Now I realize my fears weren't justified!”

“Cause as long as we're together, We can stand and face whatever Kind of trouble this world tries to put us in. If you're out there on your own, You just might take it on the chin Cause if it's us against the universe, we win!”

[august-anon]

On Love’s Light Wings

Alright if you’ve look at my blog the past three days you’d know that I’ve been obsessively rereading Carry On/finally reading Wayward Son lol. 

I wrote this inbetween finishing Carry On and starting Wayward Son yesterday, so it’s not really canon compliant with how we learn their relationship has been fairing in the interim, but who cares because that’s all pain and I’m here to write about fluff lol.

----

Fandom: Carry On/Simon Snow

Ship(s): SnowBaz

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Simon/Ler!Baz

Word Count: 2887 words

Summary: Simon and Baz are having a quiet moment together under the stars, and Baz discovers something interesting about Simon's wings.

[ao3 link]

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

                               Baz

Things became a right mess, after the whole ordeal with the Mage and the goatherd (Ebb, Snow would tell me. Her name was Ebb.) and the Humdrum.

We were questioned and carted around, barely getting a chance to breathe. Everyone wanted to know what happened, and once they knew, it was time to get the kids out of the way so the adults could handle it. 

I went home to my family. Snow went home with Bunce.

It was hard for a while, getting a chance to see each other. Simon and I would steal moments, when we were called to meetings together. We would sneak away, hold hands. Sometimes we would kiss.

But Simon had drawn back. I wasn’t surprised, with everything that had happened, I would’ve been more surprised if he hadn’t. But he drew into himself and wouldn’t come back, and I didn’t know how to help. Kisses were chaste and brief, hand-holding was tight and desperate, and most everything else was off the table.

He’d flinch away from my touch anywhere else.

It had hurt, but I had spent nearly half my lifetime hurting for Snow. I could do it a little while longer. And my patience paid off. Snow healed, albeit slowly. He started letting us -- me and Bunce, he had even shut her out after everything -- back in. I was able to see him more often, sneaking away from Watford for the weekends. I was allowed to place my hand in the middle of his back, on his neck, his stomach, his sides, his legs.

But there were two things I could never touch (or maybe it was three, if you counted them as separate limbs), that no one could ever touch, and frankly, I couldn’t find it in myself to blame Snow for that. His wings and his tail were a delicate matter. A harsh reminder. I teased him about them once and he didn’t speak to me for three weeks. I’ve learned my lesson now, I won’t tease him about them until he’s ready.

We’re curled up on the hood of my car, now, the echoing heat of the previously-running engine keeping us warm in the chilly early-spring night. Well, keeping Snow warm. Vampires don’t need to keep warm like humans do. We’re already so cold. 

I’ve got my arms wrapped around him -- in the middle of his back, carefully placed in the space between where the bases of his wings end and where his tail sprouts from his tailbone -- and he’s got his head on my chest and we’re staring up at the sky. I don’t think either of us has said anything since we got situated on the hood, but I don’t mind, and I doubt Simon does either.

Instead I sigh -- it ruffles his curls, makes them tickle my nose, but I don’t mind -- and pull him even closer.

                              Simon

I don’t think Baz knows he’s doing it. He’s got his hands between my wings and my tail -- and that’s something I’ve really appreciated these past months, Baz doesn’t push like Penny does, he doesn’t even ask when I’m going to let him touch them -- but they’re brushing up and down. I think it's a subconscious movement, because his fingers keep bumping against the base of my wings and he isn’t even reacting. Normally, he gives them a much wider berth.

I’m trying to hold still. I don’t want to break the moment, it’s peaceful and calm and quiet and everything we haven’t been able to have in a very long time, but it feels weird and it’s hard not to squirm. If I squirm, though, Baz will pull back. And he’ll ask questions. And maybe he won’t want to hold me again because he’ll be afraid of touching my wings -- not that Baz is afraid of much of anything.

But the thing is, maybe Baz isn’t afraid. Maybe he thinks my wings and tail are as weird and inconvenient as I do. Maybe he’s disgusted by them, and that’s why he’s never pushed to touch them like Penny has. Maybe he’s just being nice by staying with me as I mope around with these mutations sprouting from me.

No, that doesn’t make sense. Baz isn’t nice.

But what does make sense about our relationship?

                              Baz

Snow’s been slowly tensing up for minutes now. I can’t tell if he’s upset about something or just uncomfortable, and it’s infinitely harder to tell without being able to see his face. I wish I could sweep my hands up and down his back to let him know that it’s okay, but I’m not allowed to touch his wings and I’m not going to push.

Not like Bunce. I saw him shout at her the other week. Her curiosity is going to get her in trouble someday -- as if it already hasn’t.

But the thought does draw my attention to my hands, and I realize that they’re already moving. I don’t know how long they’ve been moving for. And I freeze when my fingertips brush against the base of Snow’s wings.

That’s why Simon’s been so tense.

Simon flinches when I freeze, and I try to calculate how big of a mistake I just made. I pull my hands away like I’ve been burned and Simon flinches again, this time pulling back from me.

I never apologize -- Pitches don’t apologize -- but for Simon I just might.

For Simon, I just might do a lot of things.

Simon’s bottom lip is drawn between his teeth when I’m able to finally get a glimpse of his face. He looks nervous and upset and confused, and I’m not sure what to do with that combination. Before all of this, I might’ve pushed. Tried to make him cry, upset him in every way possible because it was the only thing I knew how to do aside from love him.

I’m trying to learn how to do new things now, though.

“Simon,” I start, and he meets my eyes at the use of his first name. “I--”

But he doesn’t let me finish. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and blurts out his words like they’re vomit. Simon’s never been good with words, and that hadn’t changed in the months that they’d been dating.

“You-can-touch-them-if-you-want-to,” he says, and his words run and slur together like alphabet soup. I can barely understand him.

I stare at him, to make sure he really means it. To make sure he doesn’t feel like me or Bunce have pressured him into it, that he’s really giving me permission. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have cared. But once upon a time, Simon didn’t love me back, and I wouldn’t go back to that time for anything.

“Unless--unless you don’t want to,” Simon tacks on, and I know what I have to do.

Instead of answering him, I slowly raise up a hand. Simon’s wings twitch and fan out, but they’re trembling like they want nothing more to squeeze back shut against his back. I move a little faster so they don’t do that before I get there.

His wings feel exactly like I expected them to. Warm and leathery. They don’t hum with magic like I expected them to, but that makes sense, because Simon’s magic is gone now. He’s never going to hum again, and I’m okay with that.

I still don’t know if he is.

Either way, he’s still my Simon.

His wings twitch more at my touch, my fingertips dragging across them. Simon makes an odd face in response, all scrunchy and kind of confused.

“All right, Simon?” I say, and it comes out softer than I meant it to.

Simon doesn’t acknowledge that. He nods. “It feels weird.”

I tilt my head. “Weird how? Weird bad?”

Simon shakes his head. “Just weird.”

I roll my eyes and make my touch a little firmer. As I continue to trail my hand across the wing, the angle gets awkward, and my touch becomes more fingernails than fingertips. Simon’s eyes bulge wide out of his head and he squeals. For the second time that night, I rip my hand away as though I’ve been burned.

“Simon?” I ask.

But Simon’s not listening to me. His eyes are locked on the wing I was touching, wide and nervous. I can’t tell if I hurt him. It’s frustrating. I don’t want to hurt him, anymore. 

                              Simon

This is absolutely unfair. I’d managed to hide it from Baz all these years. Penelope knew -- then again, Penny knew everything, it seemed -- and Agatha suspected, but Baz never knew.

His former mortal enemy, Simon Snow, is horribly, unbearably, stupidly ticklish. (And he maybe didn’t mind it as much as he would pretend to).

And of all the things to reveal that secret, it had to be my wings. Because it wasn’t enough that the rest of me was ticklish enough that a stray poke would send me rocketing into the ceiling, my magical wings were ticklish enough that Baz’s fingertips almost sent me flying away.

“Simon,” Baz says, and something tells me it isn’t the first time he’s said it. “Are you all right?”

And I want to deflect. I want to say it felt weird, or it hurt, or literally anything but the truth, but I can’t. Because Baz’s eyes are filled with guilt -- and I’ve gotten better at that lately, reading Baz’s emotions in his eyes when he refuses to show what he’s feeling on his face -- and I know he’s beating himself up over it. He probably thinks he actually hurt me.

“Fine,” I say, then I start stammering. I finally manage to force out, “Just tickled s’all.” I immediately regret it.

Baz looks like the cat who caught the canary.

                              Baz

Ticklish.

Simon Snow is fucking ticklish, and I never had any clue.

It makes sense why I didn’t, we were enemies after all, and that wasn’t exactly the kind of weakness you want your enemy to know. I don’t know if I would’ve used it against Snow if I had known, though. It was a rather intimate thing to do, and I had been in the business of touching him as little as possible unless it was a punch. Touching him could be quite painful, back when I was hopelessly in love with him.

It’s not quite so hopeless anymore.

I can hardly move fast enough in my excitement to know more. My hand instinctively goes for his wing, seeing as that’s what I’d been touching when I found out, but I stop just short of touching it. I’m not sure if touching it is still allowed.

Simon’s wing twitches into my touch. Based on the way Snow’s eyes go wide, I’d say that action wasn’t entirely under his control. Seems the wings have a bit of a mind of their own, or maybe they acted off of Snow’s subconscious impulses.

But I don’t care either way. Bunce could solve that mystery, she’s the one who likes to do that sort of thing.

All I care about is exploring this new world Snow’s opened up to me.

I trail my nails across Simon’s wing again and it twitches violently as he squeals again. I wiggle my nails with a little more purpose against the leathery skin and Simon breaks into actual giggles. A hand flies up to cover his mouth and I reach out and grab it with my free one, interlacing our fingers.

“None of that,” I say. “I want to hear you.”

“Baz!” Simon squeals, but I ignore him.

I decide that wiggling my fingers around aimlessly is going to get me nowhere. No, I need to seek out the real sensitive spots. I try to pull back the hand I’m holding Simon’s with, but he squeezes it tight in his grip. He’s probably realized what I plan to do with it. He always was good at sensing when I was plotting (though I suppose it’s not that hard when the answer is all the time).

It doesn’t matter though, because I can do what I want just as well with one hand. Simon doesn’t seem to realize he has a second hand fully capable of stopping me. It’s flailing around uselessly, and it’s disgustingly adorable.

Simon’s giggling gets louder and more frantic as I spider my nails up his wing, moving towards the base of it at his back. I can’t help the grin that comes to my lips, I just hope it doesn’t look as soppy and lovesick as I feel. Not that Simon would notice, his eyes are too scrunched up with laughter. His nose, too.

Once again: disgustingly adorable. It makes me sick.

Simon’s laughing deep from his belly, now, not just giggling anymore. It’s still getting worse the higher I go, so I don’t change directions. He actually wails in laughter when I get to the inside curve of his wing (it’s almost like an armpit, but for wings. Wingpit?), squirming so frantically that he collapses back into my chest. I can’t help but laugh with him.

I’ve heard Simon laugh before, but it’s gotten rarer and rarer as the years have passed. I haven’t heard it at all since the incident with the Mage and Ebb and the Humdrum, and it’s a refreshing sound. It’s like when you’re parched and you’re finally given a cold glass of water. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until hearing it again.

                              Simon

Baz’s fingers are driving me mad. The touch is so light and teasing, it’s making my skin crawl. There are goosebumps all up and down my arms, and they’re not from the cold. I wish he would move to a different spot, or make his touch firmer, or something. It’s torture. The best kind 

I can barely breathe through my laughter, with the new sweet spot he’s found, and my stomach aches with the force of it. It’s invigorating. I didn’t realize how long it had been since I laughed until Baz forced it out of me. Not that I really minded.

I feel like I’m flying.

He’s laughing with me now, too, and it only makes me laugh harder. It’s not his usual sneering, cocky laugh that he always used to give me back in school, back before our truce. It’s more like the laugh he gave me when he was drunk -- or drunk on my magic -- light and bubbly and a little bit rough, like it’s out of practice.

Maybe I should tickle him back sometime. Get it back into practice.

But that’s the last coherent thought that I’m able to have before Baz’s fingers find a sweet spot inside the sweet spot. I’m lost to my cackling, the only thing on my mind being Baz’s tickling fingers. I wonder if it’ll drive me mad.

                              Baz

Snow’s laugh used to make me want to throttle him. Or at least punch him. It was just another reminder of what I couldn’t have, what I would never be able to have. Because Snow was my enemy and he was dating Wellbelove and we were going to kill each other someday.

Now, his laugh just makes me want to kiss him. It did that before, too, but I always buried it beneath the urge to beat on him. I’m allowed to kiss, now, though, and so the urge to punch him is gone. 

I feel like I’m floating.

And I really want to kiss him.

But he’s probably bound to run out of air, and I think it might be a little difficult to kiss his open, laughing mouth (even as much as the idea of swallowing his laughter into my own lungs is enticing), so I pull away. Simon goes boneless against me, panting and giggling, his wing still twitching from my lingering phantom touch. They furl up protectively against his back, and I get the urge to kiss them, too.

Maybe later.

For the time being, I satisfy myself with pressing my lips against Simon’s own, now that his breath has somewhat returned. Simon wastes no time in kissing me back, still with far more finesse than I can manage. I’m learning, though, and I’m clearly making progress based on the heady little noises he makes into my mouth.

I don’t need alcohol to feel drunk, or even Simon’s former magic coursing through me. I could get intoxicated on Simon alone. Not that I’d ever let him know that, he’d use it against me every chance he’d get. And I’d let him.

We spend the rest of our evening kissing under the stars, long after the hood of the car has gone cold under us. Simon’s wings wrap around us like a blanket, warm and smooth, and we keep kissing. The stars twinkle above them, painting beautiful shadows across Simon’s face. I trace them with my lips.

I have to be back at Watford in the morning. Simon has to be back at the Bunce’s before they notice he snuck out with me (though I imagine Penelope herself likely already knows). The world outside the little bubble we’ve created here continues to turn round, but we don’t have to rejoin it just yet.

For now, it can just be Simon and me, and everything can be all right.

[chaislatt]

WAYV AS HOGWARTS STUDENTS

QIAN KUN

ravenclaw , head boy, muggleborn

excels in every class he takes

when he first discovered he was magic, he flipped out

he had a matilda episode in his room one night

he was staring intently at his toy planes, wondering how it would be like to fly one someday

then suddenly it just?? levitated??

as an eight year old, he did the only thing he could do in such situations—scream bloody murder

first year : in his newly pressed robes and neatly gelled hair, sat at an empty compartment and started reading his textbooks

until the compartment door opened and a cat just walked over him

“oh sorry, leon doesn’t behave very well” says ten who he did not think would stick around but guess what? his cats liked him

being sorted into ravenclaw, he quickly became famous for being the smartest and wittiest most sensible? wizard of his year

he was especially great at charms got so surprised that there was an incantation to make things float, since all he has been doing is just think it (flitwick got a shock at his first year doing wandless magic)

as he grew older, almost everyone depended on him for help in everything

he couldn’t go a day walking in the corridors without someone asking to meet up at the library or thanking him because they aced their tests

but of course, this little ravenclaw had a limit

he didn’t mean to, but one day he just snapped at a poor gryffindor who kept bugging him to meet at the courtyard to practice spells (everyone finally left him alone, too scared to face the wrath of a wizard who knows all the spells for duelling)

OWLS year—the most memorable year for him, as he and ten spent nights in the library (and sometimes in the kitchen but if anyone asks only ten was in there) studying their bums off

that summer, ten just received a holler from him (surprise! he got all o’s)

naturally, he had been picked for prefect and head boy

the first years LOVED him

he taught them all the secrets to their tower and even handed them a parchment full of riddle answers, because let’s be real, even though you’re a ravenclaw doesn’t necessarily mean you want to use your head all the time

eats at the hufflepuff table because they have better breakfast items

adopted a whole assortment of kids with ten (winwin kinda just sticked around because yangyang was his buddy)

would be the boys’ go to— from pesky spells, ink blotts on their robes, th right grams for mandrake powder, they all depended on him for it

hendery was once asked why he wasn’t scared of him (knowing what happened before)

“he’s not dumb enough to duel someone because they’re bugging him. that’s why he’s in ravenclaw”

overall 9/10. minus one point because he still feels the need to get the last remark in everything.

LI YONGQIN

hufflepuff, pureblood

loves hanging out at the common room

doesn't really care much for grades, but does his best when studying

his housemates call him a sloth

moves so slow, especially in the mornings

likes taking walks along the corridors because it's fun to see other students rush and run to their classes while he walks a leisurely pace

always has his tie loosened

sometimes, he doesn't even tie it, he just wraps it around his collar and hope no one notices everyone does

has a talent for transfiguration

will turn anything into cat snacks

he once turned his homework in kibble and his excuse was "my cat ate it"

befriends all the cats in hogwarts

sometimes he lays down at the courtyard and they all just gather around him

one legendary moment (as lucas likes to call it) was when he was walking down the corrider and a train of cats just followed behind him in a single file

sweet wizard boy, befriends humans as well

he's so likeable, everyone just feels drawn to him

has this laidback energy that feels like a breath of fresh air when things get hectic in the castle

speaking of fresh air

he likes to stroll around outside, most of the time dragging yangyang and winwin out with him

"winwin could use the fresh air and your voice doesn't echo" - ten to yangyang

his sister is friends with yangyang's sister, so growing up he kind of babysat the three whenever their families would be together

he didn't imagine that it would continue during school, but poor winwin looked like he just wanted to get his head bitten off

despite having a lot of friends, he sticks with kun most of the time because he's not as chatty when he's focused (and kun is focused all the time so)

his favourite thing to do anywhere is lay down on his back and play with his wand, sending wisps of magic swirling around in the air, creating beautiful artwork

received pencils and a notebook from kun so he could just draw because "your magic might hit someone and i do not want to be involved with any of that"

doodles all the time

he likes to draw butterflies and magic them off of the paper and makes them follow his friends around

doesn't really say much when no one's talking to him, but will keep the conversation going casually

wanted to become a prefect so he could have his own bathroom

would patrol around at night with his cats (hendery jokes how he looks like filch and now he takes his filch impersonation seriously)

when catching students, he makes obvious remarks like "oh wow good to know that there aren't any gryffindors in this corridor! it would be an awful hassle to report them. good thing everyone's in their chambers!"

very lenient on students he doesn't know, but will threaten those he does and ask for something in return

accidentally gave yangyang the idea of becoming a prefect so he needn't have to worry at night

also accidentally gives yangyang dare ideas to give to hendery

he doesn't mean it! most of the time

overall 10/10. everything is cancelled out by the fact that he goes around the castle with atleast 2 cats following him around.

DONG SICHENG

slytherin, pureblood

mr frowns-a-lot, mr don’t-talk-to-me, mr i-want-to-go-back-to-my-dorm

the most stereotyped slytherin

first years believe that slytherins are scary because of him (but they immediately get debunked by hendery “you’re scared of a tall dude who gets tired from talking and likes to eat chocolate? yeah okay”)

but yes this not so little bean finds talking draining

it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but why would he have to talk about his day when as far as he knows, everyone just did the same thing he did??

you can barely get a sentence out of him

will reply with nods or shrugs and just point or look at things

only talks during class when the professors ask him questions

yangyang bugs him the most

when he got assigned to take care of this chatty, full of energy first year he almost cried

ended up just following him around and yanking the back of his robes to stop him from getting into trouble

because of this, yangyang’s friend are his friends

first got introduced to xiaojun, lucas, and hendery

ended up becoming a babysitter for four

when he met ten, he almost cried again, but now out of happiness  because he got yangyang to shut up

met kun last, and immediately took a liking to him for no reason at all

no one knows how, but suddenly mr-i-dont-want-to-do-anything started getting more mischievous and talkative

the whole hall got surprised when he laughed at lucas’ lame joke

this may be an exaggeration but the boy doesn’t even smile

after this incident, lucas just kept talking to him and he just kept replying, and pretty soon the four little troublemakers would joke around with him and he’d just sit back with kun and ten when he got too tired

this made him attractive

but unlike lucas who got confessed to everyday, there was no one who confessed to him

he didn’t really talk to anyone else and just minded his own business when he was alone, so everyone was too scared to confess to him

which is a huge relief to him because the not so little bean is actually very awkward

proven when hendery accepted yangyang’s dare of going right up in winwin’s face omygod when i tell you his whole face turned red

he avoided hendery for a week until he realized it was too hard since they have most of their classes together??

speaking of classes, it’s a miracle how he just passes everything since no one actually ever sees him studying or doing homework

it’s like everything he does is magic well

overall 7/10. doesn’t really try that much and will only voluntarily hang out with kun.

HUANG XUXI

hufflepuff, halfblood

was tiny, like a little bug

no one knows when he got so tall (summer of second year, he had to buy new robes for third year because they were already too short)

spends breakfast half awake, focusing on eating his meal and listening to yangyang complain about how hard his transfiguration classes yesterday were

he’s never around for dinner because he’s always at the pitch and no one has the energy to talk to yangyang in the mornings so he’s the poor guy

everyone loves him, no one can find a single thing to hate about him even if they tried

loves care for magical creatures with hagrid (he measures his height with the half-giant)

other classes? not so much

sure he tried a little bit, but why would he need to transfigure something into a pen when he could just look for one, and why would he need to concoct a drowsiness potion if he can just will himself to sleep

speaking of sleep, he does that a lot

he likes to wait for xiaojun during fourth period because they had arithmancy next, and he would lean against the corridor and sleep

learned how to sleep hunched over so it looked like he was focusing on class (begs whoever he’s sitting with to wake him up)

why does he do this?

“i’m saving up my energy for later”

he’s a quidditch beast

part of the quidditch team, originally tried out for seeker but they realized he couldn’t go fast enough without loosing his balance on his broom

he switched to being a beater, which the team found out he was very good at aha great power comes with great biceps

everyone falls in love with him when he’s on the pitch

he looks big and scary and ultra focused

and they realized after 3 games that he focuses so much because he aims the bludger to hit the player’s upper thigh only (this prevents player from taking a fall and just bruise, not break a bone)

once he accidentally sent his bludger flying too hard and knocked the chaser off, but he was faster than the seeker and caught them (followed the poor chaser for a week saying sorry and giving them semi burnt cookies he made with xiaojun)

gets confessed to every other day and just says “thanks”

but why don’t you ever reject them? 

why deny that i’m handsome?

that makes no sense

as with rejecting them! 

but truly is an angel

he even got winwin to actually converse with him

he makes everyone feel comfortable, talks to everyone and just hangs around when they don’t want to, offering company

overall 10/10. his cockiness about his looks just makes him endearing since everyone knows he can’t break someone’s heart.

XIAO DEJUN

ravenclaw, halfblood

kun’s reincarnation

but there’s one problem

he’s still immature

you would think he’s the prime example of a ravenclaw

practices his passions all the time

likes doing brain-productive things

reads about anything he finds interesting

goes in and out of their tower because he thinks solving the riddles is fun

but ho ho ho oh oh no

he’s a little devil

makes snarky comebacks under his breath that takes a little bit for you to understand

makes things harder on purpose just for fun and because he’ll be the only one able to do it

has a joke for EVERYTHING and never repeats them so i guess he can get away with that

he’s a little menace to the society but he can get away with it because it’s all just minor inconveniences

but we all know minor inconveniences are the most annoying things

likes to annoy kun the most because he understands and reacts immediately

doesn’t like to annoy the hufflepuffs because they just smile at him in confusion

despite that, he’s also a little sweetheart

remembers everything his friends say, so he’s always there to remind them

reminds kun about a test he has to retake, ten about his changing patrolling schedule, winwin’s meeting with a professor, lucas’ need to polish his broom after dinner, hendery’s homework, and yangyang about that incoming howler from his parents

when he realized he’s such a great asset, he became a bit nosy too

likes to meddle with all of his friends’ business

so if someone wants to find any of the six, he can tell you a vague description where they are

because of course he’s not gonna tell you lucas is by the lake practicing his swinging, he’s gonna tell you he’s brushing up on his quidditch skills so you’d go running to the pitch

this way he’s not technically doing anything wrong to both parties

one day, kun asks why he likes doing this

“it makes me feel like a king maker. feeding things into their tiny brains and knowing exactly what they’ll be doing”

“that’s not exactly what a king maker does”

“yeah but does it look like i want them to be more powerful than me?”

co-parents a dog with lucas

aka lucas asked him to take care of bella while he’s in practice but he forgot to take her back with him for 2 days so now bella thinks she lives in the ravenclaw tower too

does random errands for his friends as a way of apologizing (but really just as a leverage so he can cause more trouble)

his ultimate goal was to brainwash everyone so they couldn’t live without him and he succeeded????

now they’re the receiving end of all the sermons his professors give him (you wouldn’t expect it, but he causes quite a ruckus in class)

but still, at the end of the day, they choose to sit next to him at the ravenclaw table during dinner

overall 7/10. he’s annoying, but he’s good at everything he does and helps his friends out in different ways. which makes him more annoying because why? why not

HUANG GUANHENG

gryffindor, muggleborn

does not understand magic. like at all

the only reason he’s still managing is because he refuses to be beaten by xiaojun

he doesn’t know why he’s in gryffindor but anyone who’s ever met him can vouch for the sorting hat

he’s courageous in the way he faces learning magic (it won’t hurt me, i’m magic) he's brave to speak up to anyone and ask for help when he needs it, and most of all, he has the nerve to get right into winwin’s face

surprisingly good at harder spells than that of his year level, so he’s in a few higher level classes

the reason being he wants to save face when with upperclassmen so he actually focuses real hard and actually understands 

because when he’s with his friends, his mind goes wandering and he can’t focus his magic 

a very strange wizard indeed

imagine getting help from xiaojun to levitate a piece of parchment but can explain to ten how to brew an advanced potion

he’s very confident in his abilities

why would he be nervous to stay after curfew??

if filch catches you

then don’t i just have to avoid him??

but has realistic fears

will not go near a broom

yeah okay the broom can fly, but can he?? he can’t even levitate a piece of parchment, how can he levitate himself?

also very practical

lucas kept struggling since he kept spilling his ink pot so he handed him a pen

“dude i forgot these existed!” “who writes with feathers??”

the most laid back yet extra ordinary wizard ever

you can start a conversation with him and he can keep it going for hours on end

very friendly, will talk to anyone but the downside to this is that he talks to everyone like they’re his friends asdkjshjkd even mcgonagall

overall 7/10. uses magic to solve trivial muggle things and still makes bets with yangyang up to this day.

LIU YANGYANG

slytherin, pureblood

a force to be reckoned with

spend a day with him and your ears will bleed

why?? does?? he?? talk?? so?? much??

his friends always complain but everyone else in the castle can’t see why

in the eyes of a stranger, he’s actually cold and reserved, hard to approach

but if you actually knew him

oh boy you’d want to not

can talk for hours

he and hendery wanted to know just how long he could talk

so they timed it

talked for 9 hours straight, no one knows how they managed

good thing this talking is actually useful

he likes to recite during class, always has a lengthy explanation for his answers

people aren’t the only one he talks to

he talks to the ghosts and to the paintings, greeting them a lovely day or whatever

besides talking, he also has another passion–quidditch

he plays as chaser for his house, often times taking his time to freshen up, so he goes back at about midnight during thursdays

good thing ten patrols during thursdays

speaking of ten, he’s been a brother figure for him all his life

so when he was introduced to winwin, he got so excited because he had another brother

by the end of the night, fourth year winwin knew everything about first year yangyang

he loooves his buddy

tries to do everything with winwin but he doesn’t let him

despite being too much to handle, winwin actually likes him too (but don’t let yangyang know)

likes to do dumb dares with hendery

isn’t really into pranking and getting all up into other’s business, so they manage their mischief between the two of them

and the whole of hogwarts just enjoys and guesses which of the two would be the one running around the great hall in their pajamas

yangyang actually encourages his fellow slytherins to stop sticking among themselves

mostly because he’s tired of them bugging him to “go ask your gryffindor friend if there’s homework on-”

at the end of the day, all his slytherin friends have been adopted by ten, took a liking to kun, and watches lucas, xiaojun and hendery fool around for entertainment

that being said, he loves his friends

thankful that he has classes with at least one of them for all his classes

all his professors have learned to sit him next to them, otherwise he’ll just slack off and stare into oblivion

he’s actually more productive when he has someone to remind him to be

okay maybe sitting him next to hendery wouldn’t result to school productivity

overall 9/10. it would be an 8 but he actually does acknowledge he talks too much.

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[akvtsuki-ari]

Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader 

Length: 5.3k 

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk  but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part. 

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately. 

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks. 

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187 

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM 

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM 

M / F / O 

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things. 

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment* 

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc. 

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way. 

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second. 

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?,"  You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you  to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

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T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

[themadauthorshatter]

RED SCHOOL UNIVERSE ALTERATION HEADCANONS/STORY!!!!!! Mainly based on that series titles and plots post I did a little while back.

This story happensthe same as before, but there are three arcs, not two parts; Arc 1 is the two worlds dicscovering each other and each wondering who the other is. Arc 2 is the worlds meeting each other and making introductions and first impressions. Arc 3 is the "Peace and Cooperation" between the two, which includes the Unity Ball.

The Endless Woods were still discovered by Silvers, but it was completely on accident. They were trying to go to Piedmont or any other Nortan ally because the Scarlet Guard situation is getting a little crazy and Tiberias needs needs reinforcements who are not having the same problem as him.

In their defense, it was really dark and they couldn't see a damn thing. And they thought the trees and grass being blue were because of Greenies.

One of them, a Swift, ran away when his travel partner, an Eye, got shot by a stray arrow and when a wolf jumped out of the trees. Like, a BIG ASS WOLF.

Little did the Swift know, a ferret snuck onto the boat while getting chased by an evil mist possessed hawk.

So the Eye gets patched up by Professor Espada, who scolded Chaddick, he is interviewed by Espada and Dovey, though they all talk in the School Master's office.

THE REVEAL OF RHIAN WILL COME, JUST WAIT BECAUSE IT WILL BE AWESOME!!!

The Eye explains as much of Norta as he can, mistakenly talking about the King and his two sons to a certain blonde girl who keeps thinking she's in the wrong school and her more realist, down to Earth friend that is intrigued, but just wants to go home.

SPEAKING OF NORTA!!!!

With the Swift, he arrives back at Norta and claimed he'd been chased away by soldiers.

The ferret slips away from the boat and finds its way into the garage, where Cal happens to be working, because he overworked himself in training.

It gets his attention and he very stupidly asks it how it got in.

It starts chattering and then claws at the door. Ever the compassionate, Cal lets it on his shoulder and he meets an Animos who takes notice of the rather articulate rodent on the prince's shoulder.

She does her own interviewing of the creature and is curious when it talks about a school meant for teaching children how to be heroes and villains for fairytales.

She infirms Cal, but tells him to not tell his father because it'd sound stupid and like bullshit.

He tells him anyway because Cal cannot keep a secret.

Tibe tells him that maybe he's been training too hard or in the garage to much; oil or gasoline on the brain.

Good thing the Eye comes back and tells Tibe EVERYTHING about what is called the School for Good and Evil. It is across the sea and has no Reds or Silvers to speak of, though they do have magic.

Tibe tries brushing it off, even when Elara asks him about it, but starts getting frustrated when letters start coming in, all sent by ravens.

These address Maven, Cal, Tibe, Elara, Evangeline, Ptolemus, and Volo Samos, and just about anyone and everyone else the Eye talked about, Even Mare, who is Mareena Titanos at this moment.

This was not only an assignment from the School Master directly, but a test to see if the Eye was BS-ing.

Maven rolls his eyes when he reads his.

Mare, at first, got really excited because she thought it was her family or Shade, but was really sad to learn it was just a bunch of kids in school.

Cal just laughs because he gets a lot of questions about what Norta is like and how he lives life, especially how HE goes to school.

He writes back, after realizing that the letters are being sent by literal 16 year olds.

Here is a letter sent by Tedros:

"Dear Tiberias Calore VII, We found one of your people in our school when my friend accidentally shot him.(sorry about that, by the way!) He talked a lot about you and a thing called "Queenstrial" and said that every King had to choose his Queen like that, even though your father didn't. His blood was silver, too. LIKE A MIRROR! Is that how all of you are? As in, does everyone have silver blood? And does everyone still have powers? Write back when you get a chance. I hope to here from you soon, Tedros Pendragon of Camelot."

Here is Cal's reply:

"Dear Tedros, Call me Cal, just about everyone else does. And don't worry about our comrade, he's doing okay. And I hope he didn't say anything confidential. To answer your questions: Yes, Queenstrial is somewhat a competition to marry the next King. My father didn't really partake in one until after I was born, then he married the current Queen and had my brother Maven. Kings rarely marry without one, though my father was the third to do so. Assuming what he said to us was true, that being you and your classmates all have red blood, then no. Not all us have silver blood. I and my family are all Silvers, meaning we have silver blood. We have powers because of it, but it's not as vast as yours, what you call magic. I'm a Burner, meaning I can control fire and not get burned by it, just like my father and brother. My mother, the queen, is a Whisper, meaning she can read minds. And no, not everyone has powers or silver blood. Reds, people with red blood, don't have powers at all, so they work. Granted, Silvers work, too, but Reds have more labor intensive jobs like lumbering and even fighting in an army. It's to make them feel more useful next to us. I hope this answered ypu questions. Tiberias Calore VII"

Here are letters Sophie sent to Maven:

"Dear Maven Calore, It's very nice to meet you! My name is Sophie. I'm from a village called Gavaldon, though you might not have heard of it because it's really deep in the woods and, let's be honest, if you live in a place like Gavaldon, you can probably live and die without anyone knowing who or where you are. Anyway, I tried writing to your brother, but I guess he gets THAT many letters. That guy they found didn't talk about you as much as your brother. And he said he'll be best king yet. I know how frustrating that is, I got put in the wrong school when I helped so many people and even became best friends with a witch. AND SOMEHOW I'M IN EVIL!? I'M THE PICTURE PERFECT DEFINITION OF A PRINCESS!!! Did that ever happen to you on school? Were ypu ever in the wrong place and your brother was where you were supposed to be? Anyway, write back when you get a chance! Love, Sophie P.S. Is it true you and your brother are ALREADY engaged to someone?"

Here is Maven's reply:

"Dear Sophie, Yes. My brother and I are already betrothed, him to Evangeline of House Samos and I to Mareena of the lost House Titanos. I'm not surprised that he didn't; the nobles usually pay more attention to my brother anyway, kind of like you. I remember once I'd wanted to join my father on a meeting concerning one of our legions. He chose Cal to join him instead and left me to train, even though I'm better at talking in council meetings. I was fairly upset, as I'm sure you are, but all I can say is to grin and bear it. As far as I know, most schools last four years. It may seem like a long time, but it will go by very quickly. Aside from that, I wouldn't know because I wasn't taught in a school like you. I was taught in the palace with my brother. I hope things get better for you, at least. Cordially, Maven Calore"

If this was a legit book or movie, we'd get back and forth POVs between the Red Queen cast and the SGE cast.

With the RQ cast, we'd see Mare and Maven talk the letters they'd each gotten and talk about the existence of magic, and the last letter sent to all three of them. FROM AGATHA. Cal joins them and they get to speculating what it could mean for their future.

"Dear Tiberias Calore VII, Maven Calore, and Mareena Titanos, This is the last letter we're allowed to send. The students, at least. Mareena, or Mare, or whatever your name is, I wish I had a chance to meet you at least once. I don't know, I just have a feeling you're lying and I want to know why. Tiberia Cal, I hope you someday become a good king, and that you're happy with Evangeline. If not, just get along and be freinds. Maven, I'm glad you and Mare met. She sounds like she's a good part of your life, and it sounds like your doing everything you can to help her adapt. I hope you two become your own little weird, married family. If I never meet you, best of wishes to you all. Agatha of Woods Beyond"

All three are bummed out by this and Mare cries into Maven's shoulder as he hugs her out of genuineness, not his mother's plan.

Maven later admits to Cal that it would be interesting to meet the students, but is glad he isn't, because they already have enough problems.

Cal agrees, but solely on the front that they wouldn't really know how to get there and back to Norta, and who qould have to stay behind to hold down the fort, as Tibe doesn't trust Elara or any other high house leader and doesn't talk to Julian.

The two simply imagine what such a meeting would be like as they part ways.

With Tibe, a letter from the School Master himself has just arrived and details a safe route from Norta to the School and back.

SWITCH AND BACK TRACK TO THE SGE CAST!!!!!

Sophie hugs the return letters from Cal and Maven, squealing about how gentlemanly they are and that she can't wait to meet them. Agatha gently breaks it to her that that might not happen because of how they don't know where this Norta place is and the last letter was sent last night, HER LETTER. Sophie waves her off and calls her gloomy for not having any hope. Agatha tries talking Sophie into trying to find a way back to Gavaldon instead, but Sophie shuts her down by gasping that she'd never meet her princes, then.

Norta is a hot topic for the students as they all compare letters, Evers and Nevers.

Tedros wonders to Agatha how long it would take for them to arrive, and Agatha admits she doesn't know because she doesn't know how they get from place to place without horses or carriages.

Dovey and Lesso are about to pull their hair out from the nonstop chitchat of Norta, Reds, and Silvers, and the School Master has just the solution:

After enough ravens left and returned safely, he determined a route on water that would help the Silvers arrive safely and get back home. Considering the advances in technology Norta has, it should take them about a day or two to arrive and another day or two to sail home, regardless of the weather conditions.

With that all thought out, he puts it in the form of him own letter, sends it by eagle, and waits.

After A MONTH of waiting, he gets a letter back that Tiberias will be happy to meet the School Master at the rendezvous point.

AND THUS CONCLUDES ARC 1

BE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR ARC 2!!!!

[summahsunlight]

Perhaps It’s Fate, Part 20

Rating: T, to be safe

Word Count: 1.8k+

Summary: After joining the Resistance as a mechanic, you were happy to keep to yourself, until a little orange and white bb unit and his master wander into your workshop one day.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Start from the beginning! 

Taglist: @ms-dont-care​, @starless-eyes-remain​, @elmoakepoke​, @marvelobsessiononastick​, @kiaralein​, @softly-sad​, @totalpoedameron, @ordinarymom1​, @sevvysaurus​, @spider-starry​, @liadamerondjarin​, @jingyuhearteu​, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling​, @paintballkid711​

It’s here! The much anticipated next part! Hope you enjoy it. I’m excited for you to be able to read it🥰 Remember if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

You had managed to disable the tracker. Poe had piloted the ship, using the phony code to land in the hanger of Snoke’s ship--and Finn had been able to secure you disguises and find your way to the control room where you worked your magic.

It was when you were making your way back to the ship that everything unraveled. Your team had been discovered; Captain Phasma and her troops were waiting in the hanger--and there was absolutely no where to go. 

Poe wanted to fight--of course he did, it was in his nature--but once a blaster was pointed at you he surrendered. 

Now you found yourself on your knees in front of Phasma. 

This is how your parents must have felt, you imagined, in their final moments before they were executed by the First Order. At least you’d been able to help the Resistance, at least you had been able to disable the tracker so they could escape.  But now you knew you were going to pay the price.

“Make it painful,” General Hux snarled before leaving.

“Only the most painful for rebel scum,” Phasma assured him.

Blinking back tears you glanced at Poe; he was looking at you with such regret in his chocolate brown eyes that it made your heart break. Somehow, you managed a weak smile to let him know that it was okay--that you didn’t blame him for anything.  He had believed in you so much, how could you? And for you, this was a much better option of dying together than having to live without him. 

Poe softly smiled back at you, the pain in his eyes so evident as he mouthed the words I love you. Oh how you wish you could respond, but there was a boot on your neck, pressing your head forward as the troopers prepared all three of you--Poe, Finn, yourself--for execution. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed that the end would come swiftly...

.....instead there was a loud explosion, you were thrown from underneath the boot on your neck clear across the hanger, the blast knocking you unconscious for a few moments. 

When you regained your senses, the hanger was on fire. Poe was leaning over you and talking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. He suddenly pulled you into his arms and you realized he’d been asking if you were okay.  Amazingly, you were fine, other than a few cuts and bruises. 

“Sweetheart, can you stand? We need to get out of here.”

“Yes, Poe, I’m fine. Just some scrapes.”

Despite this statement from you, Poe still pulled you to your feet, carefully.  “I saw a shuttle still in tact; if we can get to that I can get us the hell out of here.”

Clinging to his hand, you nodded. “Where’s Finn? Is he okay?” you asked, anxiously, looking around the hanger.

There was no time to even search for Finn, the stormtroopers had emerged from the smoke and were firing at you and Poe. The two of you barely had enough time to duck behind some debris to block yourself from getting hit and you realized, with desperation, that they had cut your path off to the shuttle. If you and Poe were to move now in an attempt to get to the shuttle, you’d be shot dead before you even took three steps. 

Poe desperately tried to shield you, all the while trying to just as desperately come up with a plan on how to get the hell out of this situation. And then suddenly, there was BB-8, having hot-wired an ATST--clearing a path for them. 

You were too shocked to even move a muscle, watching that little droid blast troops. It was Poe that grabbed you by the arm and shouted, “Run!”

“But...but...BeeBee!”

“Don’t worry! He does stuff like this all the time!”

There were so many questions that you needed answers too, however, there wasn’t time at the moment.  Thanks to BB-8, you were able to stumble and fall your way onto the shuttle. Somewhere along the way the little droid had picked up Finn and the pair had also made it to the shuttle.

Finn looked anxious. “Can you fly us out of here?”

Poe threw him an incredulous look. “Can I fly us out of here? Of course I can!”

“Glad to see nearly dying toned down your cockiness,” Finn snapped.

“Actually dying is going to be the only thing to do that,” you tossed out.

“If the two of you are done--I’m about to save our asses,” Poe quipped.

Flickering your eyes towards Finn the pair of you made eye contract briefly while Poe piloted the shuttle out of the burning hanger. Immediately a pair of TIE-fighters were on your tail--admittedly none of you thought it was going to be easy to escape, even if Snoke’s ship was scattered in pieces around you. 

Holding your breath, you realized that Poe was pushing the shuttle hard and fast towards the surface of the planet. He was following the escape transports but even as he made his approach, he. saw that the blast door was about to closed. “Hold on!” he shouted. “This is gonna be tight!”

BB-8 let out an anxious trill as the shuttle dove underneath the closing door, shearing off the wings of the shuttle. Your closed your eyes tightly until the shuttle came to a groaning halt. 

“See. Told ya I could fly us out of there,” Poe said, laughing slightly.

“Yeah... barely,” Finn sniped. 

“Are you off Snoke’s ship or not?”

“We’re off but I wouldn’t call that a landing!”

Poe shrugged. “I’ve had worse, right Bee?”

BB-8 bleeped an affirmative.

Slowly you opened your eyes and glared at him. The amused look on his face didn’t last long as the surviving Resistance members opened fire on the shuttle. The three of you, along with BB-8, ducked for cover, while Poe screamed, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! It’s us!”

Carefully, each one of you raised yourself up so the Resistance fighters could see it was indeed your tiny group. 

“Finn? Poe? Y/N? You’re alive!” Rose gasped.

“Yeah!” Finn yelled back. “Although Poe tried to kill us!”

“Hey!” Poe protested, glaring at him.

All you could focus on was the small group of fighters left; you’d failed after all.  The tracker had not been disabled in time for anyone to get away before they had to abandon ship and take refuge in this old Rebel base. Your one chance to prove you belonged here--and you’d blown it.

------

Poe had actually lost track of you once you had left the shuttle. He’d immediately been swept up in preparations that the First Order was going to land ground forces and attempt to flush them out  After it became obvious that they were tucking their tails, licking their wounds, and heading back to their space--that was when Poe noticed you were missing.

He found you, huddled behind one of those ancient, decaying. speeders--which between the two of you, he was happy he did not need to fly. Poe squeezed in next to you. “Hey. There you are. I’ve been looking for you for over an hour. Why are you hiding back here?”

“I failed,” you mumbled, tears slipping out of your eyes.

“What do you mean you failed? You disabled the tracker,” Poe countered.

“Not in time.”

Gently, Poe pulled you close to him. “Sweetheart, most of the fleet got away--the decision to destroy the Raddus was made so the others could flee--just incase the tracker wasn’t disabled. You’d disappeared before Leia could explain to us what happened.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you shook your head. “If I had disabled it faster than the Raddus would have gotten away too.”

“They didn’t want to leave us behind,” Poe said, softly.

“What?” you rasped, raising your eyes to look at him.

“Leia didn’t want to leave us behind.”

“We knew it was a suicide mission when we took it.”

Poe quietly stroked your hair; yes they had all known that the mission was probably going to end up in their deaths--it almost had--but none of them had voiced that sentiment out loud--until now. His lips brushed against your temple so softly it was like a breeze tickling your skin. “Your parents would be proud of you.”

You wished you felt as confident as he did about that but the truth was you didn’t. How would your parents feel knowing that you couldn’t control your panic attacks? That you had such severe anxiety that you often hid away from others to tinkering in your workshop? “They wouldn’t be proud of a coward.”

“Stop!” his voice was so firm, angry, that it startled you. “Stop right now,” Poe growled, low in his throat. He grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to face him. “You are not a coward. You marched onto that ship and disabled something that none of us knew how to disable. A coward would not have done that; your anxiety, your panic attacks, they do not define you. So stop talking like this.”

“I can’t stop feeling this way! It’s not easy!” you sobbed, wanting to run away from him, but he would not let you go. “Do you think I want to feel this way? I can’t control it, Poe. Somedays, I feel like I’m drowning, that I can’t breathe!”

“So do I!”

“You?”

Poe swallowed, nervously, and nodded. “Ever since I escaped Jakku and made it back to the Resistance--I’ve felt an increasing dread, pressure--fear of failure, Y/N. When Kylo Ren tore through my mind, my memories, he saw the most vulnerable side of me and it haunts me, sweetheart, that I couldn’t protect you from his mind probes! That he saw what you meant to me, and that by him seeing this, it puts you in danger!”

Seeing the fear in his eyes, you sucked in a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to protect me, Poe.”

He wiped your tears away and then you were pressed, tightly against him. “I love you,” he whispered, “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Never.”

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his chest. If you could have, you have stayed in his arms like this for the rest of the day, but as life had it--someone was looking for him. Poe kissed the top of your head and whispering an, “I love you,” he stood up and left you sitting there, giving you complete control of when you wanted to leave your safe spot.

“Did you find her?” Finn’s voice carried across the room.

“Not yet; she’s damn good at hiding,” Poe replied. “Don’t worry, she’ll show up when she’s ready to come out of hiding--or BeeBee will track her down, and then coax her to come out.  She can’t say no to him.”

“Okay, but we better find her soon,” Finn said. “Someone responded to the General’s distress call for emergency evacuation transport. We’ll be leaving soon as they get here.”

[night-running-echo]

Jaskier, a Bard or a Druid?

I've been reading again the Witcher lately, and thanks to @wherethewordsare​ I had the inspiration to finish a certain theory about a bard that I didn’t have time to write. 

.

.

.

① Magical Imprint

The first thing we notice is the bond that Jaskier shares with mythological creatures: He interacts with Sirens about love, easily talk with elves, cuddles a baby dragon, jokes with a demon for the entire travel writing a song about him, befriends an untouchable Pegasus and even werewolves don’t try to harm him when he is singing.

“Right before the dawn, while it was still dark, a hungry, vicious werewolf crept up to their camp, but saw that it was Dandelion, so he listened for a moment and then went on his way.”

The Nymphs, or Dryads, call him “Ard Thaed” which translates to “The Bard”; Did you notice the particular use of words? Not a bard, The Bard, a mighty and a noble presence, as we know Nymphs rarely use this names, and more rarely on humans, a race that they despise so much. It can be a coincidence, you know, bards. They are cute, they sing pretty songs, and everyone can be easily mesmerized by them. But what if the truth is much more intriguing?

In the first book, Geralt and Jaskier are captured by a group of elves, and before they try to kill them it's at this point that Dana Meadbh, a goddess also known as the Eternal One, makes a quite spectacular entrance. The elves halt, lower their weapons, and kneel before her. This gives us the demonstration that the Deity is adressed with deep respect. So, she makes a sign to Jaskier and calls an elf that delivers him a new lute, and a rather wondrous one. Jaskier almost cries for the complexity of the runes, the wood and the strings that shine in golden light in the sun.

Only after, we find out why this Lute is so important. In the Fourth book of the saga, Jaskier go on a mission to find a dispersed Geralt, which temporally resided in Brokilon. It's a risky business, the Nymphs would shot him on the spot. But Jaskier sit on a rock and take out his magically crafted lute, gifted by the Goddess. Wait, you didn't notice, right? This is the perfection of Sapkowsky's writing. We are so worried for Jaskier that we not even notice the fact that:

Jaskier's lute is still there

It's magically crafted!

Why it's so important? Let's analyse the concept of a magically created object.

The rule of a magically crafted object, we'll call it artefact from now on, is that when a magical object is created, the magic sorta transfer to the object, leaving a sign and a trace of magic easily recognisable but not too much to track it down. This is influenced mostly by:

The object and therefore the material that's used

Who is the crafter!

So, an artefact is basically the result of a good, positive, magic (well, depends on the type of it and the use that the artefact will serve to), and the materials that can absorb the already nominated magic like a sponge. The quality of the work and the ability of the crafter is important too.

Since the artefact is a magical object, the magic serves as a mechanism that makes the artefact work, and I already said it leaves a trace of magic. But, since artefacts are so rare, why gifting Jaskier one?

Dana Meadbh is a Goddess, they can choose their protected ones, their patrons. This people and also other entities become untouchable and unharmed. In this way Jaskier becomes respected and without any chance to be harmed, in any way or means.

This is why Jaskier is listened to; He is respected, almost feared for the Wrath of the Goddess if Someone will dare to touch him. As Mythical creatures, they can feel and perceive the magic on Jaskier's lute and the imprint Dana Meadbh leaved on him. As that is also why Geralt can't feel the presence of magic within it! It's so little that his methods and objects can't trace and track down the magic on him, it simply hides in a vast world full of magic and creatures, it's too much information.

In conclusion, Jaskier is a Goddess's patron.

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② Why he is still so young?

The books of the Witcher have a plot that gravitates in the period of 10 years and more, so from a book and the other pass at least one or two, even three years each.

And, we see Jaskier never getting older. Well, Geralt is a Witcher, he is made to live long and prosper. Yennefer is a witch, magic duh. But Jaskier, Sweet innocent Jaskier, how he is still so young?

[the next sketch is purely made to laugh. Crude words ahead, skip if necessary]

So me, the narrator, is gonna ask you politely: the why. WHy. WHY JASKIER DON'T GETS OLDERR!??

LIKE LOOK AT HIM, THIS FREAKING ADORABLE GREMLIN, WITH A FUCKIN MAGIC LUTE. WHO ARE YOU. WHO TF ARE U?

[Interrupting the theory for little technical problems]

Anyway, y'all got the point. Or Jaskier Is really really lucky, or there's something under. Could the magic on his artefact sustain him? We would never know.

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③ The Role of a Druid

It was kinda strange for me, to discover that druids in the Witcher world are almost nonexistent. It's usual to read about them, being denigrated, or treated like inferior beings in comparison to powerful Witches, Wizards eccetera. The idea that it brings me, is that Druid magic is relatively easier than the others, that means so it's not hard to learn it alone. Just the fact that Druids are threatened so badly gives us proof.

Being a Druid, then, brings this type of knowledge (usually)

The ability to talk in different mystical languages (It could be the language of the Nymphs, other creatures like sirens, or even elves)

The ability to sense other sources of magic around (something every sorcerer and Witcher need to possess)

The ability, obviously, to understand animals and at least every form of living.

This is the basis of Druid magic, present literally everywhere (from DnD to Fantasy books and films), and The Witcher is not excluded from this category.

Why did I bring this up, then? Let's analize the list accurately.

Jaskier is able to understand animals, we see a close bond with mythical and not mythical identities (point one).

The next interesting thing is the ability to communicate with other identities. It's obvious that Elvish and Nymphic ecc language is not for everyone. Witches, Witchers practice it, and it's rare to encounter someone who is well acquainted with it.

But Jaskier? Jaskier, surprisingly is a marvelous learner. He communicates is Siren's language easily, and have s great grammar basis of Elvish language.

He even sings in Nymphic without a second thought, translating fastly enough massive amount of text that a normal person couldn't do in a year. Especially in the language of the Nymphs, that's so hard to even understand.

So, what about sensing magic? That could be impossible even for Jaskier... Or not?

First book, short after the encounter with Dana Meadbh. The leader of the Elves ask forgiveness to the Goddess, and ask her to come back to the mountains with them. Segues a short telepathic conversation that Geralt notices for the long eye contact that they have. And then Jaskier says something really suspect.

(a translation from the Russian books)

"She was talking telepathically" Dandelion said, making a face "I felt it, a bond. You know what I mean, Geralt, I'm not stupid."

We understand that he perceived the bond. He didn't know, but he felt it, even understanding what they said. This type of ability is only possible if the user have at least about of magic within, or have something who give him that magic.

I think you already understood what I'm talking about, do you?

The lute. The magic artefact that Jaskier will never leave from now on gifts him an amount of magic so little, but useful in multiple situations. It gives him an imprint of Dana Meadbh, The Eternal One, and he is protected by this magic from every mythical creature present on Earth.

He is not only a bard, he is something totally more powerful.

Conclusion, Jaskier is a Druid? Yes and no. He have Druid abilities, he can be called a druid, but he uses his magic almost unconsciously and without acknowledging that. We don't know if he'll find out someday, but the hypothesis is pretty much possible.

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Post-Theory: Sooo, I hope you liked my ideas and mumblings! Don't be shy to give your opinions about a very cute Druid!Jaskier and if you approve this headcannon.

With love

Echo.

[blacknailpolishonguitarstrings]

From Above

Magic was a very interesting thing. Powerful but fickle. Healing and caring in the right hands, yet wicked and deadly in the wrong ones. Dangerous. Magic was convenient, but used to its full potential only by a select few, and more often than not, by the ones in the wrong rather than by the deserving ones. As such, magic held many secrets that had yet to be discovered. Amongst those many unexplored areas, ghosts and death were some of the most obscure branches of magic. Wizards and witches knew next to nothing about the Afterlife. Ghosts were the imprints of departed souls, and could of course stay in the world of the living if they wished to do so, but they were forever attached to one place. What no one knew, or at least, remembered, was that if one poured enough emotion into the remembrance of a certain deceased person, their soul would be able to perceive what was happening in the world of the living at that precise moment. The souls of the dead had constant access to their past, of course, they were capable of thoughts and feelings, and they could see what was happening to everything and everyone in the world of the living, but as time passed, that connection grew feebler and feebler. The Dead distanced themselves from the Living more and more the longer they were gone, drifting further away from that thin barrier of Reality, and only a strong emotional connection could bring them back. That is how James and Lily Potter found their old friend Remus Lupin at their grave.

“James,” said Lily softly, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

The logistics behind their ability to touch and feel each other were still unbeknownst and confusing to her, yet they were both ever so glad for it. Being dead…well it wasn’t fun. You merely existed. A lone, wandering soul. Yes, one was able to see the world and witness just about anything they wished, but that connection was unstable and weak at best. Both Lily and James felt themselves slipping away a tiny bit more with each day that passed, and it was an underlying knowledge, a cold hard truth, that someday they would simply cease to exist and fade into nothingness. But for now, they held on, with every bit of strength left in them to the real world. They had the urgent need to stay “alive” as best as they could, given their condition, for Harry, the son they would never see grow up, for Remus, their best friend, who was all alone now, and for Sirius, the one person who was slowly but surely getting dreadfully closer to James and Lily with every minute he spent in that cell, isolated, lost, in pain.

“What is it, love?” Asked James, looking up from the concert taking place in a small pub in London he was watching.

“Look, over there,” replied Lily, pointing into the far distance.

The world stretched beneath them like a small map they could observe closer whenever they felt like it, skipping from place to place in a matter of seconds. In the direction Lily was pointing towards, a grey, cold, graveyard stood in the middle of a town, namely, Godric’s Hollow. And among the marble tombstones, a lone figure kneeled in front of two joint headstones which shone bright and white in the evening, brand new, adorned with wreaths of white lilies.

Remus Lupin. In front of their graves. Behind her, James gasped.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He whispered, already knowing the answer.

“I think so…James, do you feel it? The connection?”

“Yeah, I think I do, it’s almost as if he were…pulling us in.”

Suddenly, they found themselves right above the graveyard, with a direct on-look on it.

“I…I feel close to him, I think his magic is calling us towards him or something. Merlin, this is so strange, how does this even work?” Said Lily, puzzled and slightly frustrated.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you. It must be some form of ancient magic, or maybe Death magic, who knows…in any case nothing we were taught at Hogwarts,” answered James thoughtfully.

His wife nodded in agreement, remaining quiet as she watched her best friend below her. Remus’ shoulders were sagging under an invisible pressure, it appeared as if he would sink into the ground on which he was kneeling at any given second. His hands were hidden in the depth of his old, brown, worn-out coat’s pockets.

“They’re probably balled into fists,” thought Lily knowingly.

Oddly enough he wasn’t crying, and he did not look particularly afflicted. On the contrary, he seemed…numb. He was just there. With no purpose, no emotions, no hysterics, no cries, nothing, he was just there.

“I wish we could talk to him, or at least know what’s going on in his mind,” said James abruptly, interrupting her train of thought.

At that precise moment, Remus pulled out his wand and waved it briefly over the headstones. The fresh flowers on the two graves disappeared in small puffs of sparkles, telltale signs of magic, which hung around fleetingly in the air before vanishing as well. He waved his wand again, and several dark green sprouts spurted from its tip, softly dropping to the ground, small roots snaking into the mushy earth. The plants began to grow in size, intertwining until they formed a complex woven arch of spikes and leaves stretching across the two graves. Here and there, pearlescent white flowers bloomed. White roses.

“He remembers,” murmured Lily, tears welling up in her non-existent eyes, pricking her skin, sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh, love, of course, he does. Besides, those lilies were truly atrocious,” James laughed, but through the rumble of his chuckles, Lily could hear the affliction and the sorrow, thick and overwhelming.

She sighed, hugging him.

“If only we could communicate somehow,” she repeated her husband’s words.

There was another curious thing about magic: it had the uncanny knack to listen to one’s feelings, and sometimes, it was lenient and amalgamated. That is how Lily and James found themselves right next to Remus, still invisible, still unperceived, but there nonetheless, with him, instead of above him. They were both too troubled to think about the trick behind it, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if they were real again. If Lily hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn she felt the chilly autumn wind whisper through her formerly auburn hair, she would have sworn she felt the gravel crunch and roll under her feet, she would have sworn she felt her tears slide down her cheeks and freeze on her clammy skin right before they tipped past her chin, and she would have sworn she felt the texture of Remus’ wool coat under her hand as she placed it longingly on his shoulder, heat radiating from him under her palm. But she knew it was nothing more than a mere wish, sometimes she even wondered if she ever truly felt James’ touch, or if it was yet another fragment of her imagination, a shard of her shattered past. Neither of them was sure anymore, if they still resembled their former selves and had a partly physical form or if they were simple spirits, shadows of people, slivers of energy.

Lily and James stood there for long minutes beside their friend, quiet, not daring to move, just watching him, being there with him. Lily would have given anything to know what was going on in his mind, but he remained silent. Finally, as the last few pale rays of sunlight tinted the grey sky a light golden before being swallowed by the night’s shadows, a hoarse whisper escaped his lips:

“I miss you…I…I’m so alone now and I don’t know what to do.”

His head hung low, dull chestnut curls hiding his face, but Lily could tell he was crying by the slight shake of his shoulders. Her heart tightened, clenched by pain, that is if it still existed somewhere.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he continued with more vehemence. “I don’t want to live like this anymore!”

Remus had almost shouted the last few words and looked as if he were about to say something else when the sudden crack of Apparition cut him off. Albus Dumbledore appeared between the gravestones, dressed in dark blue robes, looking tired, eyes wary.

“Remus, I assumed I would find you here. I am very sorry but I must interrupt your mourning, there is an urgent matter I must discuss with you. Will you—“

“Professor,” interrupted Remus, finally looking up.

His eyes were puffy and red, and ill-defined traces of tears lined his hollow, bony cheeks. Lily couldn’t help worriedly noticing how much thinner he had gotten, bones pocking out from beneath his coat.

“Do you believe Black killed James and Lily and Peter?”

Next to her, James flinched at the question; Remus hadn’t called Sirius by his last name in years.

“I…I am afraid all the evidence point to that, nothing is indicating otherwise,” answered Dumbledore quietly but resolutely.

“NO!” Vociferated James. “SIRIUS DID NOT KILL US, PETER, THAT TREACHEROUS RAT DID! SIRIUS WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS! HE IS MY BROTHER! HE ISN’T CAPABLE OF MURDERING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!”

“James! James! They can’t hear you, my love, as unjust as this is there is nothing we can do!” Said Lily sadly, attempting to calm her husband down, yet her voice shook with contained fury.

Remus said nothing for a while, looking pensively into the distance, watching as the sun finally set, but something in his gaze had hardened.

“So he killed them,” he declared at last. “Black killed his best friends, those who gave him everything, and he abandoned me and betrayed me too…”

“No! Remus! Listen, it’s false! It’s not what it looks like! Dammit, Remus, listen to me!” Begged James desperately, trying to grasp his friend’s shoulders, but his hand went right through him, slicing through the air.

“He killed them,” repeated Remus bitterly. “I guess the Black in him won, after all, joined Voldemort, didn’t he?”

“I suppose so, yes,” nodded Dumbledore.

The words hit Lily like a punch in the gut as James sunk with a defeated and miserable sigh next to her.

“Old fool,” he mumbled.

[juliandev0rak]

Magic 🔥

Three: Magic – talk about their magic, when did they discover it? Did they have to learn how to use it or did it come naturally?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes

Aster, she/ they

Nopal

Starts 19 years before the events of The Arcana, ends around 11 years before the events of The Arcana, Aster starts age 5, ends age 13

Words: 1540

Warnings: angst, mention of background character death, mention of an injury (someone gets set on fire, they don’t die but they do get hurt) 

Aster remembers the day vividly despite all of her missing memories. She may have forgotten her family's faces and names, but she can remember the day she lost them, and the day she found her magic.

She’d been staying at her grandmother’s house while her parents were away, a routine trip to the larger market a few towns over. She doesn’t remember what her grandmother looked like, but she can remember the house, small but full of curious looking nick-nacks that Aster was never allowed to touch. She can trace the layout of the house like the back of her hand, the line of the pink-painted hallway that curved towards the sunny bedroom she always stayed in.  

Things had been so normal that morning until there was a knock on the door, some man she didn't know asking for her grandmother. She remembers the Nopal sun, scorching hot as it streamed in through the open door. 

The events are a little hazy after that, she remembers that her Grandma told her to go play outside. She knew something was wrong, but she went outside without complaint. 

It’s the middle of summer, and too hot to be outside, so Aster takes refuge under the old mesquite tree in the front yard, enjoying the cool spot of shade. A flash of color to her left catches her eye and she turns to see a brightly colored salamander sitting on a rock next to her.

“Hi little lizard thingy!” She says, reaching out for it. She’s surprised when it immediately jumps off the rock it’s perched on and runs away. She rises from her spot on the ground and gives chase, the bright orange salamander easy to spot against the tan landscape. Her bare feet burn against the hot sand but she doesn’t flinch, the heat’s never bothered her. Finally, she corners the salamander against the edge of the neighbor’s house.

“There you are lizard!” She shouts, once again reaching for the cornered animal. This time she’s shocked as it bursts into flames in front of her. Aster takes a step back, then a step closer, inspecting the flaming salamander. “How did you do that!”

The salamander seems to regard her, the flames dying out as it registers that the girl means no harm. She reaches out for it again and it bursts into warning flames, but she keeps reaching, picking it up without registering the pain of the fire. In fact, it doesn’t hurt at all. The salamander’s flames are ticklish and she giggles at the sensation as the salamander sticks its tongue out at her.

“Can I do that?” Aster frowns slightly, putting the salamander down to stretch her hands out in front of her. Her eyes scrunch closed and she tries to will heat into her hands, thinking of the hot sun overhead and the sand beneath her. She pictures the salamander bursting into flames and begins to feel a tingle in her fingertips. She’s as focused as a five year old can be, her hands stretched out as far as they can reach, but her focus is broken by the salamander squeaking in alarm.

Her eyes open to see that the cactus in front of her is in flames. She turns to the salamander and smiles gleefully,  “Did I do that?” the salamander squeaks again in assent. 

“I did it, I did it! Let’s go tell Grandma!” She scoops up the salamander and rushes back home, the cactus still flaming behind her.

“Grandma! I set a cactus on fire!” Aster squeals, holding the salamander up who gives another happy squeak. Her grandmother turns to her with watery eyes, not giving comment on the cactus fire.

“Aster, put that salamander outside and come sit down. We need to talk.” She says sternly, her tone immediately making Aster nervous. She opens the door as if to let the salamander out but slips it into her pants pocket instead, giving it a whispered “shh” to warn it to behave.

“Aster, sweetie, there’s been an accident…”

At that moment everything Aster had ever known was ripped from her. Her parents weren’t coming back from their trip, they weren’t coming back ever. 

Aster’s grandmother had been sick for years, she couldn’t take care of a child on her own. Certainly not on top of her grief at losing her son and daughter in law, and especially not after Aster’s revealed that she can set things on fire with her mind. So, she’s quickly shipped off to a distant family friend in the city, someone Aster had never even met.

When Aster arrives at the friend’s house she’s greeted by a woman with bright purple hair and a pointy witch's hat. The woman tells Aster to call her “Auntie” but all Aster wants to do is cry. She spends the first few weeks setting things on fire a lot, she doesn't mean to do it but now whenever she thinks of fire she can’t help it. The first time it happens she’s terrified. She wakes up from a nightmare to her bed covered in flames, too scared to even scream. Luckily the flames once again do her no harm.

Her aunt runs in to put the fire out, but she isn’t angry as Aster had feared, she’s excited. From then on Aster practices her magic every day, trying to learn to contain it. The salamander takes up residence inside the stove, choosing to ignore the people who live in the house and the chaos they create for the most part.

As the years pass Aster get’s better at magic, but try as she might she can’t keep it entirely under control. When she’s emotional, which she often is, the fire bursts out of her and she has to remember to breathe and calm down enough to stop the fire. But fire is unpredictable, and so is Aster. It’s a dangerous combination.

Countless furniture items are burnt beyond repair, the sleeves of Aster’s shirts are always singed, and sometimes even people get hurt. Her aunt owns a shop downstairs, and as Aster gets older she gets to help. Most of her tasks are prepping potion ingredients, which Aster finds incredibly boring. Sometimes she’s impatient and wants to finish her tasks early so she’ll use her fire to cook ingredients rather than waiting for water to boil. It usually works fine, but on a busy summer day, it has dire consequences.

Aster is using a handful of fire to heat valerian for a sleeping potion, it works best boiled but she figures that what her aunt doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Just as she’s about to put the flame out a man comes over to ask her a question about one of the potions. When she can’t answer quickly enough, focused on trying to stop the fire in her hand, he gets rude and begins yelling at her about her “poor customer service”. 

She can’t help it, the flame in her hand rises from a tiny spark to a blaze as the rude customer continues to berate her. He doesn’t seem to notice as the flame bursts out of her hand and catches on the sleeve of his coat, not until the fire spreads up his arm.

He yells, not immune to Aster’s fire, and she immediately snaps out of it and tries frantically to put the fire out as it spreads. Her aunt finally realizes something is wrong and runs over to put the fire out, but not before it’s eaten through the fabric of the man’s clothing and left a violent looking burn. He runs out of the shop before her aunt can offer to heal it and the few people left in the store turn to fearfully glance at Aster before they run out too.

“I didn’t mean to-” she chokes out, staring at her hands which still glow faintly. She’s biting her lip, trying hard to keep the tears at bay.  

“I know, Aster, but you did. You could have killed him.” Her aunt frowns, reaching for Aster’s hand. “You have to get this under control, you can’t keep exploding like this.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t even do magic anymore.” She yanks her hand away and starts to clear up the potion ingredients so she doesn’t have to look at her aunt’s pity filled expression.

“I don’t think you’d be able to stop if you tried.” Her aunt says gently, “You’ll be able to control it someday, I’ll help you.”

“I didn’t mean to set that man on fire.” Aster says again, hoping her aunt believes her. She makes impulsive decisions and loses her temper sometimes, but she would never mean to hurt someone like that on purpose.

“He was an asshole, at least it got him out of the store.” Her aunt jokes and Aster’s eyes fly up to see if she’s serious.

“So you mean I should set more customers on fire?” Aster smiles, glad for the joke to break the tense moment.

“Only if they’re rude, we have to be able to afford food somehow.” Her aunt laughs, ruffling Aster’s hair. “Now come on, let’s see you practice the most difficult magic of all- putting the kettle on for some tea.”

[danzinora-switch]

Typing the Turtles (ROTTMNT) Part 2 - Donatello

This started out as an investigation into the turtles’ insecurities, because one thing the show does so well is demonstrate that they are still teenagers. And being a teenager is a confusing experience - there’s angst, drama, exploring one’s identity, a lot of growth, and overall figuring out who you are. That’s a messy process, too! And we see this mess in our turtles: they mess up, they’re learning, they self-doubt, they have fears and insecurities, but they’re also discovering their strengths and how to overcome their inner obstacles.

So after thinking about all this way too long, here’s my psychological breakdown of each turtle (I’ll be referencing MBTI and the Enneagram, but will include links for more general information on those if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Donnie: INTJ, 5w6

The Architect, the Investigator, the Problem-Solver, the Observer

Firstly, getting into this analysis means that we have to step away from the stereotype that all INTJs are cold, aloof, and unemotional. INTJs, especially Turbulent ones, do express emotion, and we’ve all seen Donnie’s dramatic ‘theatre kid’ side. I’m not going to ignore that. He manages to be both thanks to the INTJ’s tertiary function Introverted Feeling (Fi). Extroverted Feeling (Fe) really allows one to connect and empathize with others’ emotions. Fi, however, is a more internal experience of feelings, and has trouble connecting with others without having been in their shoes. I happen to think Donnie is in a strong Ni-Fi loop, as well, which would make sense because fighting bad guys every day while trying to save the world after discovering a Mystic City which upbends everything you ever knew is pretty stressful. https://www.psychologyjunkie.com/2017/06/21/intjs-loop-understanding-ni-fi-loop/

And it’s super interesting that he often expresses his emotions by literally saying them. “Evil laugh! Relishing chuckle! Gasp!” (Mind Meld) and, one of my favorites, he literally says “Sad face emoji” in Many Unhappy Returns.

So while we DO see Donnie experience and display his own emotions, we also DON’T see him all that affected by other people’s emotions. He’s still pretty stoic in Mystic Mayhem after the delivery guy gets mutated, cracking a joke about imitation crab. He’s unaffected by Todd’s puppies in Repo Mantis, and the only one immune to Warren Stone’s sob story in Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Pizza Pit shows it best when he’s unaffected when Mikey’s favorite pizza place collapses until the same thing happens to him. Fi at work vs Fe.

As for Donnie being a 5w6, keep this core motivation in mind: “[Fives] Want to possess knowledge, to understand the environment, to have everything figured out as a way of defending the self from threats from the environment.” https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-5

Donnie at his Worst: Donnie vs. Witch Town gave us this gem of a line: “Because I’m the science guy! If mystic powers can do everything I can do, but better, then why would you guys even need me?” And while people have pointed out his need to be needed, I argue it’s a little more accurate to say he has a need to belong. His role in the group is the Brainiac, the Science Guy, the Smart One, and so his very identity is tied into fulfilling that role. A 5’s core fear is of being useless, helpless, or incapable. Mystic powers rendering his tech redundant, and thereby him useless, would be a pretty big threat to the security of his role in the group (that 6 wing kicking in). And remember a 5’s core motivation: to understand the environment as a defense. And he still doesn’t understand mystic energy. It’s pretty infuriating, so he’s pretty insufferable about it.

[Note: seeing mystic power as a threat probably didn’t kick in until their fight with Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns. Prior to that, his brothers were still learning how to use their magic weapons, but Donnie already understood his tech well enough to use it effectively (see their first fight against Baron Draxum in the pilot). But against the Shredder… all his tech was useless. Only the hanky, the hanky, was even marginally effective. His brothers’ weapons were now way more capable than anything he had to offer… core 5 fear. And to cope? Learn all you can about your fear/threat. Except he still hasn’t figured it out; we see even in Air Turtle that he calls Draxum for the mystic expertise instead of formulating his own hypothesis].

We’ve seen this insecurity about his place in the group before. In Mind Meld, as his brothers become more like him, his role is challenged. “Hey, you’re trying to get rid of me, that’s what I do to you!” “But, I thought purple was my... my thing.” When he first meets the Purple Dragon he immediately wants to join them because he sees them as tech peers. In Man vs Sewer even though he professes that it’s his day off, he doesn’t react well whenever Leo does ‘his thing’: analyzing the situation and drawing a conclusion. His self-worth seems to be tied to what he has to offer the group, and we hear that even in his song in The Mystic Library about proving himself.

Besides his insecurity, Donnie is practically allergic to blame. (Interestingly enough, he’s more okay with being wrong and others being right sometimes… sure he’ll deflect, but it doesn’t seem to get under his skin the way being at fault does). He will repeatedly deny fault and shift the blame to someone else when something goes wrong. He denies creating AlBearto in Al Be Back, says the incident with the Purple Dragons in The Purple Jacket is entirely April’s fault (she is not amused) and puts the blame for ditching Todd off on his brothers in Todd Scouts. The one time we see him own up his mistakes is in Mind Meld when no one (except Shelldon) is around to see it. “Yup. I beefed up.” This is definitely an area he needs to work on.

Average Donnie: Donnie cares for his brothers, but that doesn’t always get across in the best of ways. Take the episode Donnie’s Gifts, for example. Donnie never actually got a chance to explain how the gifts work, but we can see protective elements in each of them. Raph: please use your head and don’t just blindly rush in! Mikey: ohmygosh that is so dangerous, please be careful and don’t get hurt! Leo: stop poking the bear, Leo, it only makes him angrier! It makes sense that a 5 who has external fears of the world and has their own protective equipment (the Battle Shells) would extend that to his brothers. And Donnie was able to recognize that even though his brothers got the wrong message, he could move past that and call for a group hug. In the Purple Game he is super anxious to make sure his brothers are okay and not mostly hurt. Insane in the Mama Train also reveals the invention of the Panic Button… and who designed that?

Donnie also seeks a lot of validation. He takes pride in his work, and when his work is appreciated he gives that appreciation back tenfold [such as when he shows off the Turtle Tank to his brothers (Fast and Furriest), or when Splinter says he’s proud of him (Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man)]. The flip side is that when he’s not getting the validation he needs from others he’ll create it himself, which comes off as arrogant and egocentric. See Smart Lair, when Sheldon 1.0 plays messages of Donnie’s self-worth all night, and is programmed to favor him. Or when he takes full credit for defeating a bad guy: the silverfish in Donnie’s Gifts, and scaring Draxum away with his disco ball in Shadow of Evil. When he gets the recognition for all his hard work from the right people, though, it inspires him to do great things. There is danger in getting validation from the wrong people, however, as we saw in Big Mama’s case in Bug Busters.

Donnie at his Best: Donnie’s at his best (and most relaxed) whenever he’s learning or building something. He gets super excited and happy attending April’s school (The Purple Jacket) or going to the library (The Mystic Library) and wants to attend college someday (The Mutant Menace). The INTJ/5 seeks to absorb information and he’s constantly energized by it.

He’s also energized when he can put that information to use, such as when building something. Did Albearto need a total tear-down in War and Pizza? No. But Donnie had fun making him ‘dazzle!’ How did Donnie cope being in the woods in Todd Scouts? By building an impressive tree fort. Donnie’s projects actually relax him, because he’s exercising his strength and capabilities.

This also works for his method of attacks and plans: Know Thine Enemy. He studies Warren Stone in Newsworthy when they meet him and is the only one who remembers he regenerates by Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Donnie and Mikey are able to successfully scam Repo Mantis in One Man’s Junk because they know how he thinks. Donnie thwarts everything the Purple Dragons do and can bring Shelldon home because he knows how they operate  (The Purple Game, Breaking Purple). He can restore his brothers to their rightful minds in Mind Meld because he knows himself. 

Also: music. The fact that one of his Battle Shells has a music mode (Mascot Melee), that he remembers things in song form (The Mystic Library, Donnie vs Witch Town), and that he likes to dance (Stuck on You) is so pure and adorable.

Donnie Relationships: 

(while Donnie does see his brothers as dum-dums at times, he admits they’re fun and pretty great to have in Mind Meld)

Raph: We really need a Donnie and Raph episode, but even without one there’s some moments we can look at. I already discussed in Raph’s analysis their general similarities. Donnie doesn’t think Raph always has the brightest ideas, but still has soft moments with him such as giving him $20 at the end of Mind Meld, designing the ‘captain’s chair’ of the Turtle Tank to Raph’s lumbar settings, and appreciating Raph’s pirate accent in Snow Day. They are both protective of their brothers, Raph with his fists and Donnie with his tech. It’s interesting that (I believe) they’re the reverse of each other on the Enneagram: Raph is a 6w5, and Donnie a 5w6. So they both understand the risks involved in what they do (mostly: Donnie still ate poison and Raph still goes on ‘smashcapades’). I really want to see a team-up between them.

Leo: I’m all for the Disaster Twins trope, but to me an episode that epitomizes that isn’t one like Lair Games, where they’re at each other’s throats, but Operation Normal. They’ve apparently done the grandma-getup before. They wind up playing as good cop, bad cop in Fast and Furriest. Sure, one’s high-strung, and one’s laid-back, which can get on each others’ nerves, but there’s also a lot of making up. Brotherly betrayal passes back and forth between them, but never crosses a line. And the numerous times they unconsciously mirror each other can be found with a simple search of the Disaster Twins tag. I’m interested to see more episodes where they work together, even in the background, just because they can get up to wild shenanigans.

Mikey: Mikey’s probably the turtle Donnie most gets along with. They’ve had several episode team-ups: Repo Mantis, One Man’s Junk, Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man, Breaking Purple, etc. Donnie may be the team academic, but Mikey has strong emotional intelligence. They get along pretty easily, making plans together (One Man’s Junk) and protecting each other (we see Donnie protect Mikey in Repo Mantis and Bug Busters, but we see Mikey protect Donnie by pulling him out of the way in Smart Lair). Donnie helps Mikey focus on the goal at hand, and Mikey helps Donnie communicate better with others. They’re a good team with a pretty solid foundation.

Ultimately, Donnie’s an inventive turtle who wants his brothers to be safe but is still wrestling with a lot of insecurities and unhealthy stress levels. I’m excited to see how he grows into real confidence and utilizes his strengths as an integral member of the team.

For more information on the INTJ and Enneagram 5 personality types, click here:

https://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

https://www.crystalknows.com/enneagram/type-5-wing-6

https://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2016/01/mbti-and-the-enneagram-2/6/

[firenze11]

A Fearun Tale Teaser

Alistair wrapped his hooded cloak tighter around himself. The brown cloak did a satisfactory job of blending in with the wooden mantle he was standing on. The fireplace beneath him filled the room with sweltering heat in this late summer evening, and it was simply a matter of placing himself in the shadows above that roaring hearth to avoid notice. If he did not move, the others in the room would not notice him. Well, the boy would not at least.

“Brandon,” The old woman croaked. “Climb up here. I want to tell you a story.”

The boy sighed, but he closed the book he had been reading by the fire’s light. He put it away on the shelf next to the bed and his chair, then obediently climbed up into the bed and leaned into his great-grandmother. Despite his young age, he was already a fearun’s height taller than the woman. It had been harder to notice before, but next to the aging woman, the boy’s unhealthy pale skin became more obvious. Many would think that the boy was sick, but the woman had told Alistair the tragic truth. The boy had death in his veins.

“You’re a good boy Brandon,” the matron whispered as she jerkily wrapped her frail arm around the boy. “Have I ever told you the story about the Fearun?”

The boy rolled his silvery white eyes, another sign of his heritage, “You’ve told me lots of stories of Grandma. I don’t remember them all.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you this story before. This one is special.”

At these words, the boy’s sleepy eyes had opened wide, and his back had straightened, but he didn’t speak.

Alistair smirked. The boy was clearly intrigued but was trying not to show it. Alistair found it difficult to estimate ages of the bigger folk, but the boy was probably somewhere between eight and twelve years old. He was old enough that he wanted to avoid appearing to be childish, but young enough that childish things still fascinated him.

“Do you want to know why it’s special?” the woman asked. She knew her great-grandson well.

The boy nodded, and Alistair’s grin only deepened. She had him right where she wanted him.

“This one is special, because it’s true,” the woman breathed.

The boy frowned, and his head jerked back a bit to look more clearly at the woman. His eyes were full doubt.

“You don’t have to believe me now,” the woman said with a knowing smile. “I just ask that you remember this one. Someday, you might believe.”

The boy’s face fell a bit, “Okay. I’ll remember, for you.” The boy’s voice cracked as he spoke.

Alistair felt for the boy. It was a hard thing to watch someone with so much life slowly fade away. The woman did not have many good days left in her. The boy likely sensed this too.

“Thank you, Brandon,” the woman smiled happily.

“I’m going to tell you about a race of people that most people have forgotten ever existed. They are a proud people, a warrior people. They call themselves, the Fearun.”

“The ferun?” The boy tried out the new word.

“Close enough. The Fearun live very long lives. Ten times as long as yours and mine. They live simple lives, hunting and farming. They are very private though and they value their solitude. They particularly don’t like humans stomping into their lives.”

The boy was listening intently, but he still held doubt darkening his face.

“But every once in a great while, they invite a human into their lives. No one’s really sure why they do this. Some people say it’s because they get bored. Others say that those people might get turned into Fearun themselves, and that that’s how they make more of themselves.”

The woman flicked her eyes at the mantle of the fireplace, and Alistair’s smile turned sad.

“However, I have it on very good authority that more than anything, the Fearun love to learn new things. They are incredibly curious you see. So, when you meet a Fearun, its usually because they want to learn from you. And because they value information, they share things about themselves with that human.”

“How come people don’t know about them?” the boy asked with a slight frown.

“For three reasons,” the woman paused to take a drink of water, and the boy fidgeted as he waited. The woman continued, “The first, is that they very rarely share their secrets with anyone. The second, is that they are exceptionally talented at hiding. And the third, is that they are very, very, small.”

“You mean they’re like fairies?”

“Even smaller than most of the fey. I’ve always thought they were more like elves personally. They even have the pointy ears.” The old woman held her fingers up to her own ears to illustrate. “But yes, they are quite small. In fact,” the woman took one of the boy’s hands in hers and held it. “One of them would easily fit into the palm of your hand.”

“Whoa,” the boy looked down at his hand in amazement. Any doubts had cleared from his eyes, and they were now filled only with the wonder of a child discovering that the world was even more amazing than he had believed.

“When a Fearun becomes friends with a human, the Fearun give them something to let other Fearun know that the human can be trusted.”

“Are you friends with a Fearun?” the boy asked.

Alistair smirked. Oh yes, the boy believed her now.

“I am,” the old woman admitted, “and my friend gave me this.”

The old woman took her hands away from the boy’s hand. In it was a bracelet of woven leather strands. The leather strands were thinner even than the threads which made up the boy’s clothing. They were woven together tighter than any human’s big clumsy fingers could ever hope to weave. Just one glance at it though, and a person knew it was hand made. No machine or magic could duplicate this artistry.

“It’s beautiful!” The boy raised the bracelet and examined it.

“Yes it is, and the Fearun make things to last. That bracelet will never wear out. Not even in your lifetime.” The boy looked away from her at this, but she drew his eyes back to her as she continued, “I want you to have it.”

The boy gasped as he looked up at his great-grandmother, “But you said the Fearun only gave these to their friends. I’ve never even met one before.”

“I did, but my friend said it would be alright if I gave this to you. I hope that one day you’ll be able to meet him.”

“I hope so too,” The boy murmured.

“Alright, times up!” A much younger woman walked into the room. She was wearing the uniform of a servant but had the bearing of someone used to be obeyed. “Brandon, it’s time to go.”

“Are you sure you want me to have this?” The boy asked, ignoring the other woman for the moment.

The older woman nodded, “I’m sure. Just promise me you’ll remember the story.”

“I’ll remember,” Brandon promised. He hugged the woman as tight as he could without hurting her, and then clambered down off the bed. “Agatha, look what Grandma Gwen gave me!” He showed the younger woman the bracelet, which he had already put on. Alistair was happy to see that there was plenty of extra bracelet left dangling. Hopefully, there would be enough so that when the boy grew up, he could still wear it comfortably.

“Yes, yes, very nice.” The boy’s nurse babbled. She took him by the shoulders and steered him out of the room, and even though he was also taller than she was, he allowed her to do so. “We’ve got to get going or we’re going to miss your step-father’s party.”

“Tell him that I’m sorry I can’t make it,” The older woman called after them.

“Don’t you worry about that at all, madam,” The younger woman turned to bow reverently. “He’s going to try and come over sometime tomorrow.”

“Well I’d love to see him.”

“And he’ll love seeing you. Alright Brandon, tell your grandmother goodbye.”

“Goodbye Grandma Gwen, I love you.”

“I love you too Brandon,” The older woman smiled.

With that the young woman and the boy left the room.

Alistair and the older woman sat in silence for a few minutes to make sure that the others were not coming back.

“Thank you, Alistair,” the old woman spoke after some time.

Alistair stood up. He took a running jump and leapt off the wooden shelf. The Fearun grabbed the edges of his cloak and hooked his boots into the buckled straps on its hem as he did so. The air caught in his cloak and he glided across the room. Anyone who did not know what they were looking at would simply think that a dead leaf was falling to the floor. Alistair landed lightly on the pillow next to the woman’s head. She turned and laid on her side so that she could see him better, as Alistair kneeled down on his knees to face her.

“I mean it,” she spoke again, much quieter this time. Alistair could see the glassy weariness in her eyes this close to her face. “This means a lot to me.”

“I know,” Alistair spoke loudly enough that she could hear him. “That is why I did it. I cannot guarantee that I or any other fearun will ever meet him again though, or that I will speak to him if I do.”

“That’s okay,” the woman’s eyes were no longer focused on Alistair. “I asked more of you than I should have, but you didn’t hesitate.”

“I am your friend,” Alistair replied with a smile. “Maybe one day I can be friends with him too.” Alistair smiled as he watched his friend’s eyes start to droop. She slept most of the time lately, and Brandon’s visit had tired her out.

“Thank you, Alistair, tell your son I said goodbye,” she whispered as she fell asleep.

“I will. Goodbye Gwen, and as always, you are welcome.”

Alistair waited until she was breathing slowly and steadily. The Fearun sighed as he stood up. He would not be making this trip again. This was his last goodbye to Gwen. Alistair had never told Gwen the main reason the Fearun avoided humans. Fearun were solitary creatures. However, when they did form friendships, they were deep and powerful. Fearun lived so much longer than humans did, that forming a friendship with a human was simply inviting pain into one’s life.

Alistair smiled through his tears as he glided down from the woman’s room in the castle tower. Sometimes that pain was worth it.