#kinda terrified to post his

[stefisdoingthings]

what if your lover is a biblically accurate angel and you’re deadly afraid of him but also stare at him with the same awe you would stare a god at??? what then???

[bonefall]

(dif anon) So is Ashfur grooming Shadowsight a plotline you would keep/rework in BB? I'm not so keen on the way canon used it to retcon his epilepsy, but I do think a plotline examining how clerics can be vulnerable to abuse from StarClan spirits is kinda compelling

Shadowsight's epilepsy is staying in BB, the Erins can try and take it away again over my dead body

Yes, that's staying and BB!StarClan was reworked with unfairness in mind.

This time around, I'm considering the idea that Ashfur didn't work completely alone. After the events of Squirrelflight’s Horror, Silverpelt's divisons are starting to crackle the stars.

Skystar and the other more traditional spirits are losing patience with the peace that Fire Alone brings, and the ways that the code has been bent.

They feel that honor is being lost in their descendants.

Even angels disrespect the collective; see how Skypelt has its own heaven? With a demon in its midst? There is blasphemy even in the skies.

Firestar and the more modern pantheon are ferociously defensive of the choices of the living. StarClan exists for them; not the other way around.

Meanwhile, Mousefur has gone missing. Others start to blink out, too. This is causing panic... and Ashfur keeps it quiet that he's the only one who knows where they've gone.

The angels that plan action probably were a small group to begin with, radical spirits. Skystar and Ashfur are two of them, and Ash is the "youngest." So when he comes down to the mortal plane and betrays them, very few other angels knew what had happened.

(I might even have a few angels be doing the various supernatural things in that first book, but slowly, Ashfur is wittling down their numbers until it's just him.)

I'm still working out specifics, but the other angels that Ashfur has consumed are giving him a massive power boost. He can use this to jump between planes freely, and he's able to do some whacky things like weave dreams and pull nightmares out of the Dark Forest.

The most important unique power he has, which he can do ALL on his own once he's absorbed enough starpower, is blast Shadowpaw with a bolt of lightning. The electric current runs through Shadowpaw's brand new scar, giving him a connection to StarClan like he's a little radio tower.

Thing is... when StarClan is blocked off, the only signal he receives is Ashfur's.

So, Shadowpaw.

From the time he was very young, Shadowkit has had an unhealthy relationship to life and death

He watched a lot of cats die before he was old enough to really understand it, and the only one who came back was Heartstar.

His epilepsy was so severe it would have been terminal. He was prepared to die as a kit.

Tawnypelt took him to the Tribe to learn more about treatments, bringing back a method of refining chamomile to manage the convulsions.

When people come back from death, it was to serve "a purpose."

He feels like he needs to be special, like he needs to find the great meaning in his life. The reason why he's still here.

In BB, there can be guardian angels. Cats you knew in life who decide to watch out for you in the afterlife. Moleflight is Jayfeather's, Shrewface is Squirrelflight’s. Ashfur poses as Shadowpaw's.

THAT is how I plan to address my criticism. Ashfur DOES build a very personal, trusting relationship with Shadowpaw, pretending to be the one who's here to give him the destiny he craves. Pretending like he's someone looking out for him.

I actually LIKE how desperate the situation was in-canon and I want to stress how none of this was Shadow's fault, so I also plan to keep that they had very little choice. Shadowpaw trusts his angel completely, and Ashfur coaches him on saying all the right things.

The older Clerics are suspicious, but... what else can they do?

Also, instead of framing this all as something Shadowpaw needs to "atone" for, I'm going to make certain cats unfairly scapegoat him for bringing the Impostor into the forest. Shadowpaw himself agrees with them, blaming himself, but he has to learn it wasn't his fault.

He DIDN'T let anyone down by failing to live up to great expectations, and there's no way he could have known that Ashfur was using him. This never happened before, he always made the choice he thought was right and tried to make up for harm done, and he's not responsible for what his abuser made him do.

I actually want to have him figure out some of this by talking to DF demons, towards the end. Cats faaaar more responsible for what they did in life than him.

Ravenwing in particular, who was also mislead by a rogue StarClan spirit, but... ultimately decided that if StarClan was right in their judgement.

He was told (by Birchface, but he still doesn't know who it was in particular) to make three kittens unsafe by revealing their parentage. His choice killed three innocent children, and lead to the Queen’s Rights.

And StarClan was furious that he'd ever believe they'd want something so CRUEL.

And even if they DID want something so cruel... "Then they wouldn't have been ancestors worth following. And that's why I believe it's right that I'm here."

As a Cleric, he had authority on their behalf. And if they would misuse it through him, he wishes he could have just given it right back.

And Shadowsight's lightbulb goes Ding!

The very last thing Ashfur does in TBC, when the jig is up and he's about to be killed by the Lights in the Mist and a bunch of Demons who have come to defend their home, is swallow a Founder-- Skystar.

He takes the level of a true god, and reaches a nearly undefeatable level of power. Instead of black water, he's so large, malicious, and has a gravitational pull so massive it starts destroying the afterlife. It shatters the purgatory (Meadow of Young Stars) into floating cosmic fragments, and Heaven and Hell are set to collide.

Shadowsight confronts Ashfur, politely explaining that he's, well... done a lot of thinking, and, he doesn't really want what he gave him. "You can, uh, have this back!"

And blasts the lightning from his scar right back at him, like a chain, holding the screeching eldrich horror in place. Every ally he's made, here in the DF, come down from StarClan, and as Lights in the Mist, jump to his side. They can't hold down Ashfur, but they can hold SHADOWSIGHT

While they're all supporting him, Bristlefrost sees the one chance to get rid of him, once and for all. A clear shot. She bolts, pounces, and SHOOTS right into Ashfur like a falling star, knocking them both off the edge of the heaven he destroyed, burning up in orbit with a monster a hundred times her size.

And after that, Shadowsight has to go home and live with this.

He gave up the very connection that made him so special, and now he has to go back to being a Cleric without StarClan.

but the other Clerics accept this. They have to. They were all complicit in the choices that allowed the Impostor to rise.

What Shadowsight learns is... everyone was part of this. From those who made the follies with him, to the supporters and rebels against the impostor, to those who helped him realize his worth, to Bristlefrost who ultimately killed Ashfur.

He is valuable because living is valuable.

Everyone, and everything, matters. All cats have a role to play, and he was never alone.

I want to close him out in BB!TBC on a tea scene that parallels the various points in his life. Others used to prepare his chamomile treatments FOR him, in careful doses, because it is a very serious medicine. Now, at the end, he's the one brewing it.

A fully fledged Cleric, who realizes he's never been alone. Cats who love him were around him the whole time, making his medicine, and they'll love him even after he's given up his powerful gift. So now he's at the stage in his life where HE can make that medicine, share his wisdom with others, and find fulfillment in the skills he's acquired over a hard life brightening.

[shoechoe]

also no offense but a lot of the time you can really easily tell when an IHNMAIMS fan knows nothing about harlan ellison or his other work

[fore-seer]

earlier i was thinking about all of the various skills gaius has, because across all of his supports he knows how to do a ton of random stuff, and he’s passable at almost all of it. so i started wondering, what CAN’T he do? (other than ride a horse; gaius, vaike, and pre-inheritance owain are the only playable characters in awakening with no access to a mounted class at all)

long story short i ended up googling “can gideon emery sing” and the answer is the man was in an acapella choir and has released a whole solo album of jazz standards. and since his voice actor can sing, gaius probably also has a decent singing voice, and i’m sooooooo absolutely completely normal about it i promise

[thatone-churro]

okay. i know it’s a very bad idea to seek mental health advice from the internet, especially tumblr of all places, but i have a genuine question about this.

actually, before i get too far, i guess i should add some context about myself:

i’m fairly talkative in a certain sense. i like talking. if i start talking about something i like, or if i get excited while talking, i can talk a lot. when i’m alone, i tend to talk to myself a lot. just verbalizing thoughts, mostly; talking myself through a strategy, just voicing my thoughts as i play through a video game, or sometimes just babbling as though i’m talking to someone else. this is a frequent thing and not the root of my concern.

course, sometimes i talk a little less in public or in certain social situations if i’m not “invited” to speak too (more than just being spoken to first, but that’s another explanation i don’t want to go into right now), but i’ve always been like that; something, something, i know it’s more about social anxiety or something that i know i inherited and is a different discussion for a different day.

so, every now and then i have these days where, for lack of a better description, talking feels like it takes too much energy. even that doesn’t feel like it explains it properly but. like the same struggle to get out of bed on a rough day. like somehow speaking, the act of opening my mouth and forcing words out of my throat, takes too many spoons. the same way it feels like taking a shower or brushing your teeth has too many steps despite it being a simple process when your depression’s acting up (we’ll get back to this comparison in a minute).

i can tell when these days come on before i even have to speak to someone; it feels like my words are stuck in my throat. i mean that physically; there’s not actually something in my throat, but there’s a weight of some sort.

i’ve taken to calling these days “quiet days,” since this feeling affects just about everything associated with talking; making myself talk is a struggle; i can’t even talk to myself and all those monologues and discussions happen inside my head instead, but i can’t verbalize them; i don’t want people to talk to me on these days, as in there’s a deliberate, subconscious feeling already there on those days, not that i’m not wanting to talk because of the other feelings; actively listening to and comprehending things people say is also an effort to do, and i tend to tune out my music or whatever background noise i set for myself more than usual; i’ve recently discovered that this same feeling is applied to singing, much to my dismay, because i found this out on a day i kinda wanted to sing.

it’s not that i can’t speak on these days, i can physically make myself if i have to, it just takes more conscious effort sometimes than something like speaking should.

now, i used to chalk this up to being standard nonverbal bouts. i’d heard those were common among neurodivergents, and while i’m not officially diagnosed with anything (classic “everyone does that”/“that’s just something you got from me” type childhood), a lot of symptoms for both ADHD and autism (that i’ve heard of/looked into) match up pretty sharply with me.

however, no accounts from actually autistic people that i’ve read who go nonverbal at times really match up with my experiences. for me, it’s never a response to stress, anxiety, or overstimulation; it’s just something that happens on any given day and sometimes ebbs and flows throughout the day (as in sometimes it’s easier in some parts of the day, but not others, without any particular cue), and it’s never me going absolutely nonverbal, just a preference not to speak from it feeling like it’s too much to do sometimes.

remember that comparison i made to having to speak on “quiet days” feeling like trying to do basic things on bad depression days? yeah, i noticed on a day it hit that it felt very much like that, because i did feel it earlier that day; i found trying to make myself sing or even talk to myself out loud somehow felt like a process with too many steps and i didn’t have enough energy, just like trying to get out of bed that morning (to the point that i didn’t “get up” until that afternoon).

so, all that text and explanation leads to my one question: are these bouts and “quiet days” more from “going nonverbal” as a “symptom” of autism, or simply a symptom of my depression? or can it be chalked up to anything else at all? i’ve never seen or read anything about this on either side, and if it’s something from my depression, then that’s gonna make me take it much more seriously than i have been in the past. or like, is it just me and not anything at all?

any advice appreciated 🙏

[toughtink]

just read the most recent spy x family chapter and what THE FUCK is up with melinda desmond

[fleshdyke]

what other amazements

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[hollowisthyname]

ocean o'connell rosenberg has verbal shutdowns . she doesn't like telling people- feels like it doesn't fit her whole "in charge of everything all the time" vibe , and she hates being seen as weak- but sometimes the world is just too much , even for the most ambitious girl in town .

the first person who realized was constance , of course . before even ocean knew what was happening , constance had noticed her struggling to get words out and mentioned it one time when ocean's voice just wouldn't cooperate . and after a few , painful hours of coaxing to convince a still-unable-to-speak ocean into slowly , slowly being able believe that this wasn't a weakness or a personal failure on her part , ocean finally had someone she could trust to help her when she needed it .

from that point forward , constance began to speak for ocean when she couldn't , covering for her whenever she was around people who she didn't want to notice anything strange (which was , perhaps unsurprisingly , everyone except constance) . she would memorize ocean's speeches so she could step in at a moment's notice if she had to , and take over for ocean when they were talking in a group or find her a way out of there . the choir noticed the change in the normally-quiet constance , of course , but they didn't think too much of it- those two had always been a finish-each-other's-sentences kind of pair . they thought it was kind of nice that constance was speaking up more .

they started learning sign language together so they could communicate better when ocean wasn't speaking- bff telepathy only goes so far , and games of charades took too long and just made ocean feel embarrassed . and consequentially , when ricky joined the choir , they were the only ones that he could really talk to . maybe the only ones in the entire school- saint cassian's was not known for its inclusivity . ocean responding a question he signed was how he got into the choir in the first place- she was the first person who had responded with anything other than blank stares or "stop waving your hands around , you'll hit someone" , let alone actually understood and could sign back . he desperately needed someone he could talk to , and so the choir got a new member .

the already-multilingual mischa picked up sign quickly as soon as he understood how it worked , and though noel wasn't quite as skilled at languages with the help of the choir he was learning at a steady pace . constance's not-so-subtle hints for ocean to tell the rest of the choir about her fluctuating verbality when asked how the two of them already knew so much sign were resolutely ignored , ocean blurting out something about a languages club she'd dragged constance to last year before rushing out of the room with a mumbled excuse that even constance couldn't make out .

ricky was the second to notice . being the only member of the choir who couldn't sing , he had a lot more downtime to observe the others . more time to notice the concealed signs to constance that she repeated , the subtle questions from constance to ocean if she was alright to keep going , the way ocean's voice sometimes got shaky and strained before she stopped talking altogether and constance stepped in , and he began to put the pieces together . one day after rehearsal he just .... asked , if she was sometimes like him , not able to talk ? and he comforted her the best he could when tears welled up in her eyes and she just sobbed , out of relief and fear and all the emotions that come with someone finding out the secret that you keep closest to your chest , when that someone is like you in a way that no one has ever been like you before , when you didn't even know anyone else could be like you . ocean and ricky walked home together that day , signing rapidly at first about all the shit that comes with not being able to talk that neither ricky nor ocean had even been able to talk about , and eventually about .... anything , really , as long as it was with each other .

and then there was penny . penny the enigma , the one none of them could quite figure out . she had the most beautiful , haunting voice when she sang , yet outside the songs she hardly talked at all , mostly repeating things the others had said back to them . sweet penny , unsure of what to do to make the choir members happy but trying hard with her strange facts and offers of hugs and the dolly she always carried around because that's what always comforted her . watchful penny , paying attention to everything and everyone not in a malicious way , she's just so curious . intuitive penny , able to make connections that no one else would . penny was the third .

"you're not talking today ." it was a statement of fact , not a question or an accusation . still , it froze ocean in her tracks , not least because the room had appeared to be empty just seconds before . in the few days since penny had joined the choir , ocean had gotten used to her popping up seemingly out of nowhere- disappearing was a talent of hers , it seemed . casually pointing out things that people tried very hard to hide was a new one , though if ocean stopped to think about it , not entirely surprising . ocean was not , however , thinking about the many talents of penny lamb . her thoughts were rapidly spiraling down the path of no no no she's going to tell everyone , the choir leader has to be able to speak they're going to kick me out and no one will ever respect me again , who even does this why am i like this how did she figure it out- she felt two stiff , but not unkind hands touch her own , jolting her out of her thoughts and gently removing her hands from where they were scratching grooves into her arms . she heard a sweet , melodic voice saying something- what was it saying ? "breathe . 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ." ocean took a breath . she hadn't even realized she was hyperventilating . "hold . 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ." she held it , feeling her heart rate begin to slow . "out . 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ." as she exhaled , penny dropped her hands and stood back , seemingly unsure of what to do now that she had calmed ocean down . she just stared with those green , doe eyes of hers , head tilted to the side in worry and confusion , and ocean knew she couldn't leave without offering an explanation . so , slowly , unsure if penny would even be able to understand her , she began to sign . yeah . sometimes i .... can't . it's not all the time , i mean , obviously , and most people don't know , just constance and ricky and you too now and please please don't tell the others , i don't know how they'll react and i .... ocean took a shuddering breath , hands going down to her sides as she tried to work out what she wanted to say next , and i'm scared . i don't want them to treat me differently , or think i'm weak or fragile , or anything like that . i know i can't keep this from them forever , but i just .... i need to do it on my own time . i'm sorry , penny , you're the new one i'm supposed to be helping you not dragging you into my problems like this , i'll make it up to you i promise- i'll take you to the fair , it's fun there i'll show you all the best things- she shook her hands out abruptly , stopping her nervous rambling before she got too far off-track . anyway . i'm sorry . just , please don't tell them for me . promise you'll let me do it on my own . ocean lifted her eyes from her hands , looking at penny for the first time since she started explaining . she half-expected to see a blank , confused stare on the girl's face and have to write all of that down or force herself to speak it out loud . what she got instead was an expression halfway between sympathetic and amused , clear though penny's face never changed much . the softened eyes and barely quirked lip gave it away , things you would never notice unless you were looking closely . and ocean was , because she had to know what penny was thinking and feeling . for her standing with the choir , but also with this girl , this strange girl she'd only known a few days and yet knew more about her than almost anyone else in her life . this girl looking at her with such warmth in her eyes , and before ocean could start to think about what that might mean , penny lifted her hands and signed two words . i promise . and then ocean was enveloped in a warm , tight hug , and released so quickly that she was still processing it when she realized penny was nowhere to be seen .

she told them the next day , because ocean o'connell rosenberg does nothing in halves . when she glanced over at constance , ricky , and penny during her announcement , they were looking at her like they were more proud than they'd ever been and she nearly broke down crying . noel lamented his lack of proficiency in sign language and promised to double down on it , for both ricky's and her sake . mischa congratulated her on being able to be vulnerable with the group . by the time she was done , she was definitely crying .

being overwhelmed with acceptance was a new feeling for ocean , who had never felt quite like she fit either in the commune with her parents or at saint cassian's . she'd tried so hard to mold herself into what she thought people wanted her to be , and it had never worked . but now , telling the choir something about herself that she had tried to hide for so long for fear of rejection and being met with nothing but acceptance and love ..... ocean finally realized she didn't have to do that anymore . here , here were people who cared about her for who she was , not how well she could conform to their beliefs or do something for them . she finally had people she could trust . she finally had a family .

she didn't remember falling asleep after collapsing into sobs , but she woke up surrounded by the rest of the choir , everyone piled on top of each other , all fast asleep . she shook her head , fondly exasperated , and fell back asleep to the low , soft breathing of the choir .

ocean walking into a rehearsal , interrupting whatever's going on with two loud claps , and immediately launching into one of her signature speeches in sign is a normal occurrence now . so is her sitting in the back with penny , the two quietly taking in everything around them and calming down from how overwhelming the world can be . ocean's still the leader , certainly , but she has less of a need to have everything in a chokehold all the time . they're all .... really happy . things go wrong , as they always do , but they help each other through it . because they're family , and they care about each other more than anything in the world .

[onigiram]

❛ stay still ❜ instruction spoken with severity, all gentleness reserved for the touch of fingertips against broken skin. does he not know how to be careful? ❛ you're enough of a hassle hale ❜

𝐇𝐎𝐖   𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄,   to   be   attended   to   with   a   sense   of   delicateness   that   had   never   been   provided   to   him   prior.   Shoulders   nearly   hunch   before   he   catches   himself,   his   posture   now   one   of   forced   leisure.   Don't   let   it   see,   his   mind   whispers,   the   only   thing   it'll   do   is   hurt   you   even   more   if   it   knows   you're   vulnerable.

Teeth   bare   themselves   as   patience   frays   the   longer   her   touch   remains   upon   him,   his   feelings   a   conflicted,   jumbled   mess   that   leave   him   leaning   into   her   touch   and   yanking   himself   away   right   after.   No,   that   was   wrong.   She   wouldn't   hurt   him.

It   would,   his   conscious   croons   from   the   depths   of   his   muddled   mind.   It   knows   better   than   him,   and   it   has   disagreed   with   his   methods...   with   his   beliefs.   That   reminder   (cruel,   jarring,   true)   sends   a   jolt   down   his   spine:   after   all,   his   Shepherd   didn't   need   disobedient   sheep...

❝ I’m   fine, ❞   he   chuffs   through   pursed   tiers,   enamel   stained   with   the   same   dark   liquid   seeping   from   his   wounds.   He   had   to   get   away   -   had   to   flee   before   she   had   the   chance   to...   to   do   something   to   him.   He   was   used   to   this   -   the   isolation,   the   tending   to   his   own   injuries   -   he   didn’t   need   anyone.

He   didn’t.

Truly.

❝ Y'know,   this   is   the   first   that   I've   seen   you   oh,   so,   serious.   There's   no   need   for   any   worry. ❞   He   attempts   to   bring   about   his   usual   levity,   unable   to   stop   himself   from   craving   its   presence   further   as   he   withholds   the   full-body   tremors   seeking   to   race   through   his   frame.   The   desire   to   melt   into   her,   mold   himself   to   its   being   is   all-encompassing   -   and,   more   than   likely,   something   that   wouldn't   necessarily   be   welcomed   at   least.

❝ You’ve   probably   got   better   things   to   do   than   help   me   bandage   these   little   flesh   wounds. ❞

Pain   lances   through   his   ribs,   every   breath   a   struggle   that   he   attempts   to   play   off   with   a   chuckle.   He   isn't   quite   certain   if   his   efforts   to   shake   her   off   are   working   as   efficiently   as   he   thought   they   would've,   but   desperation   begets   him   the   longer   his   body   aches   whilst   with   any   kind   of   company.   ❝ I’m   afraid   I’m   going   to   be   preoccupied   for   a   bit,   however,   but   it’ll   be   a   quick   little   thing -   nothing   more   than   a   few   hours.   Try   not   to   miss   me   too   much! ❞

He   forces   himself   to   stand,   his   knees   locking   in   place   as   he   inhales   sharply   through   flaring   nostrils.   Instincts   blare   from   within   him,   bells   ringing   that   her   proximity   is   a   danger   the   longer   he   remains   in   its   presence.   Yet...   he   keeps   himself   pivoted   on   the   spot,   held   in   place   by   two   warring   desires.   It   had   told   him   to   stay   still   -   but   he   had   to   escape.   It's   trying   to   get   the   drop   on   him   -   then   why   would   she   treat   him   so   softly?   So   kindly?

His   gaze   flits   back   to   it,   the   natural   urge   to   simply...   obey   has   him   seeking   her   out   for   direction.   If   he   empties   his   thoughts   now,   if   he   allows   himself   to   let   his   conscience   drift   away,   the   fear   lodged   within   him   and   the   pain...   all   of   it   could   easily   be   brushed   off.

Legs   falter   as   he   staggers,   caught   off   balance   as   his   vision   gets   hazy.   Blood   loss...   he'd   spent   too   much   time   simply   looking   at   her   without   doing   what   he   should've   done,   and   now   he   was   paying   the   consequence   for   it.   Hit   with   an   abrupt   nausea,   he   reaches   forth   somehow   finding   himself   kneeling   by   her   feet   -   his   head   in   her   lap   as   his   arms   disobey   him   and   twine   themselves   around   its   waist.   ❝ Huh... ❞

[komeeder]

sorry to be irritating but can anyone who is in this tag right now explain the komaeda bagels thing. like why is that a thing.

[volfoss]

It's gonna be really bad if I get hooked into arena like I'm going to become a whole new breed of weird guy posting

[bonnielunkas]

see fnaf is fun for me until i remember that i am so worried about posting ANYTHING regarding my interp of william for. a couple different reasons

[aurheatum]

@enarmor said

Sain breathes. Air enters Kent's body, smelling of old pine and wax from the door just an inch in front of his nose. The moment he saw who he had inhabited this morning, he embarked on a quest. To say the things my dearest friend could not, to bless him with my confidence. Sain would make a number of changes in Kent's life, and though some--like his refusal to relax--could not be fixed by his hand, he could at least move some compensation the Shield's way.

The things he does for love.

"Lady Rhea?" he shouts, pressing his ear to the wall before delivering a pair of knocks with the back of his knuckle, "I've something rather important to discuss with you! It's, ah, business related!"

That sounds like Kent, right? In any case, he isn't about to take no for an answer--not when things have only just begun. The door flies open, and a rather jovial Kent walks through. With a cough, he simmers himself down to neutral. The door shuts behind him.

"You look--" Gorgeous? Astounding? Divine? All spring to mind, but none are part of Kent's vocabulary. Crimson eyes dart away from the Archbishop a second, falling onto something--anything--to find inspiration for another adjective.

"--Tall."

They land upon one of the windows to her left. It stretches high and thin, bringing to mind tall as Sain observes the light beaming through.

"Ahah, that's to say, quite nice--a perfect couple to the lovely day we're having." A bead of sweat trails down the side of his head. Without a headband to catch it, Sain becomes hyperaware of how wet one's forehead can get when under so much pressure. He wipes, and steps forward--still unused to the way Kent's body handles. He is quick to seat himself.

"Alright. I know you do much for this monastery, so I won't waste any of your time: I do much, too." He gives pause. The gravity of his words is allowed to weigh down the air in the room. As he folds one of his legs over the other, his fingers interlace on top of Rhea's desk. And should she meet him eye-to-eye, she'd find a calm determination worn on his face. One that looks rather good on Kent, like unbrewed water sitting in a pot. Collected and secure, it does not rage, crash, or flow--but there is purpose brewing beneath. Intention can bubble to the surface.

"More than any other professor, if I could be so bold." It's a statement Sain believes with his whole chest. If he earned a piece of gold for every time he had seen Kent in the knights hall when he should have been taking time off, he'd have saved up enough for a fresh silver lance, at Elibean market value. His students rarely have complaints, and his skills as both a knight and commander are real. "I'd go into detail if I must, but I believe the results already speak for themselves--I've become an important asset to you." His eyes shut for another pause, once again giving Rhea the time to ponder every word from his mouth. Look to him again, and she'd find a quaint smile edging up his lips. None of what he says is false. "... In Caelin, we have a saying: 'Feed the fire that warms you.' And I believe I've kept things pretty toasty around here! As such, I'd like a raise. Oh, and perhaps a day off--made mandatory--on the fourteenth of every month! These things... Yes, they would keep my flame alive."

While odd to be back in her office after her, well, she will call it a journey for now until she finds time to create official church doctrine on the subject; suffice to say, there is work to be done where she left it and Rhea shall not be distracted a moment more. Still, when Sir Kent calls out for her she is content to push it aside for a time, especially seeing as the last time she had seen him had been on said "journey." She tells him to come in, straightening a row of documents as she does so; and rises from her seat just as the trusted faculty member enters the chamber. He looks quite lively, she notes - relieved, as she assumed his sudden appearance may have had to do with their shared dream. The door shuts. Kent says nothing, and so Rhea comes around the desk to attend to him for lack of anything else she knows to do; Kent for his part seems to have suddenly found a case of nerves as his eyes dart away from her (different from his usual polite downcast look) to the window and back.

Tall. Hm. She is wearing the crown again she supposes.

"Thank you; I must ask, however, are you quite well?" She asks, not meaning to push the question but once again thankful when the man finds time to sit down as his voice apparently begins to work once more.

It works very well, in fact – though it does occur to wonder to her if he’s breathing while he speaks though once he finally seems to find the subject matter Kent’s confidence speaks for itself; his voice warming to the subject like she has not heard before and the anxiety slipping off him as he looks up at her eyes and posture both spirited.

“A raise…” it takes Rhea a minute. He is already doing both the work of a knight and a professor so a raise of status would mean… a position as bishop? No, as lively as the man seems so suddenly she is almost certain he does not wish for that duty.

“Ah, a raise in your wages,” she says, coming upon it finally; “yes. I will discuss it with Seteth forthwith, for it is true you do the work of many.”

Still… it was all very sudden, but perhaps it was another side effect of the journey. She nods, though looks perplexed at the next request.

“I can look at the documentation but I believe you have at least a week’s worth if not more of paid rest you simply have not taken. If my or another making such a thing mandatory would help you…. then by all means." A pause. Rhea raises her hand to summon her white magic, and realizes that might be overdoing it so she leans over to place a cool hand on the man's forehead instead; he is flushed, as she suspected.

"Perhaps you should lie down now, Sir Kent. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention despite how much it has evidently taken out of you. Do you need help to the infirmary?"

[bitterpngs]

writing fics for myself is nice and fun but when i think about potentially publishing something i start to stress over characterization. like. but would they REALLY act like this

[transboykirito]

1) a reminder that just bc someone cosplays a character doesn’t mean they condone that character’s actions

2) this cosplay gave me so much gender euphoria like i legitimately teared up lol

he’s still unfinished, but here’s an oberon cosplay lmao. i actually made the outfit for a high school sewing project 2 years ago, then i dropped out so. i just… never bothered to do the cosplay xD so he’s here now!! this is actually my lucy wig and i didn’t want to cut that and not be able to use it for her, i know it isn’t styled for him “-_- i’ll finish making his crown and wings soon and i’ll buy a wig for him once they’re finished, but for now i’m actually pretty satisfied with how it came out??

i still hate him as a character, obviously, but i always liked his design and he gives me a lot of gender envy. plus, this is kinda like another way for me to take away the power from my trauma, i guess? this and my titania cosplay mean a lot to me for that reason.