#my tics kept interrupting this which was cool because we talked about why they happen more sometimes vs other times

[harleythealter]

Somewhat my conversation with a ?friend? today.

Them: what was that?

Me: oh, that was a tic

Them: a what?

Me: a tic.

Them: ohh. What causes them?

Me: I think maybe my anxiety? *insert me likely over explaining that they happen most during heightened emotion*

Them: …that sounds like autism…

Me: *builds up contained energy* WOULDNT YOU KNOW. I have a theory. *grins* *builds up more contained energy*

*we both continue to talk for 80 minutes about autism. My theory as to the evidence that stacks up as to why I could be considered autistic. Why people say I’m not. Why the fact that I do not have trauma around how my brain functions would make me look different from the massive amounts of studies composed of a very specific demographic that I do not fall into whatsoever. Why the way I was raised by an empathetic mother and observed my father(I suspect he’s autistic) as my base role models. The fact that I was allowed to express myself and was not told to contain myself or be different. EVEN the girl who was so annoyed at us for getting into such a good convo instead of focusing about 80% energy into our card game instead said “well it’s a spectrum so..” (in context she was supporting that despite some traits of mine that would push people away from saying I’m part of the spectrum. That the evidence those people use can’t be definitive)

I forgot where I was going.

But fuck I’m excited and geeking out. I’ll just share the last random rambles :)

We haven’t even gotten to talking about my huperfixation on my world(one I built in my mind).

Oh. I mentioned that I mostly would trust people from the community that would suggest I’m on the spectrum instead of just a test or doctors because I’m not part of the demographic tests have been based on. So anyways. I was so happy. Also the person who I had most of the convo with mentioned that she was diagnosed with ADD and ADHD but thinks it’s actually autism. And suggested something similar. That all my suspected traits that point towards me on the spectrum could be valid put together even if it looks like something else. Because autism is how the brain functions. It’s not an illness.

Also we talked about how my parents didn’t see the use of labels and I got to geek out about how for me I see the use so I can find people who relate to me and people I can connect to.

We also talked about how people with autism/autistic people (whatever your preference) have emotions and express them(just in different ways than neurotypicals and even people who are on the spectrum as well). And so I got excited then too.

So anyways. Lots of stuff

I love new info on the topic!!! Please utilize the ask box!!! Or comments :D

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

talk too much [jeremy h. x reader]

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

y’all wanted jerm so i write jerm

warnings: probably out of character jerm bc this isnt even my best writing but u kno what!!! i tried and thats what matters! :0 also some hormonal teenage shit but whatever

        After a year of knowing Jeremy, and about three months of dating him, you could say you knew him well enough to know his nervous tics. The way he’d sorta start shoving his hands into his pockets, only to immediately pull them back out and straighten his spine; the way he’d drum his fingers restlessly on a table or on his ever-bouncing leg; or how he’d focus on you and stare you down unintentionally, his focus just ending up on you even if his thoughts weren’t. When you could get out, you’d slip your hand into his own and ask if he wanted to stay - and usually, he was happy to leave, immediately relaxing into normal-nerdy-boyfriend while telling you about the latest episode of this podcast he and Michael had been listening to, or about this video game he’d found, or really anything that interested him. He liked locking his fingers with your own, your shoulder bumping against him when he slightly pulled you into his side, trapped in his own world about whatever came to mind. You liked seeing Jeremy get caught up in his own world for a bit - there was just something cute about seeing fascination etch it’s way into his features, the stars in his eyes bright as ever. 

        So there you were, sitting across from Jeremy in some coffee-shop Michael had practically begged for you two to come to, watching Jeremy idly drum his fingers against the table as he listened to Michael talk on and on about the trip he took with his moms to visit family for the past few weeks. You smiled as you watched Michael pull up photo after photo, telling story after story about the shit he got up to while he was away. Normally, you and Jeremy would trade stories with Michael - but both of you had the feeling that whatever you two had to say, Michael wouldn’t exactly be up to hearing. Not that you thought Jeremy could get past one detail without going completely red - which the mere thought of made you smile. So you kept your coffee between your hands, listening to Michael’s winter break and watching Jeremy’s endless drumming.

        The moment that you and Jeremy parted ways with Michael, he opened up again, slipping his fingers in between your own and softly grasping your hand. You could see your breath in the winter air, and Jeremy’s hand was warm against your own. You listened to Jeremy talk about how he wished his winter break had involved travelling - not that he had anything against you, because trust him, he loved spending all that time with you - but maybe during summer if both of you get a job, you can save up and maybe go somewhere together.

        He stopped mid-sentence, looking over to you. “I-I mean,” he started, “if you wanna travel with me.”

        You looked over to him, tugging your scarf closer to your neck with your free hand. You finally spoke, a warm tuft of air emerging as you opened your mouth to speak, “of course I wanna travel with you, Jer. Why wouldn’t I?”

        “I mean- It’s not like I’m special or anything,” he sorta laughed it off, “and I don’t really know cool shit like Michael does about random places- or even where we’d go or-”

        “Where do you wanna go?” You squeezed his hand as you walked down the street.

        “I dunno. New York? It’s not far, but it’s expensive-” He paused, “what about you?”

        “New York honestly sounds great.” You fished around in your pocket for your keys, clicking for your car to unlock as the two of you approached it.

        The moment the two of you got into your car, you went to crank it up and blast the heating. Before you even considered moving, you waited, fingers intertwined with Jeremy’s as the two of you waited for that first gust of warm air to finally break through the car. He finally broke his hand away from yours as he unwrapped his scarf slowly, shedding his jacket without a second thought - and if you hadn’t had been paying attention, you would have missed the obvious mark on his neck.

        “Good job with hiding that, Jer,” you said with a click of your tongue, and he barely registered what you were talking about. Then it clicked, and the blush traveled up his neck and to his cheeks and the tips of his ears - although maybe the fact that he was cold helped with that.

        “I didn’t want Michael to see it- fuck, I’d never hear the end of it if he saw it, because then he’d say something to Rich and Rich would go screaming about it in the group chat and I-” He paused, “I don’t want them to know about any of that.”

        “Babe,” you dropped the name quietly, “I understand.” You couldn’t fight back a smirk, “although it’ll be kiiinda hard when it gets warmer.” You pulled his hand to your lips as you pressed a soft kiss against the back of it. “We’re heading to your place, right?”

        He nodded slowly, cheeks growing redder at the mischievous glint in your eyes. He knew you. He knew what you were planning - especially because his dad was definitely out right now, and that meant the two of you would be alone for a bit. Excitement bubbled within him though, because he’d definitely be lying if he said that look didn’t stir something within him. His breath had slightly hitched, and he fought back against anymore redness as he averted his gaze and focused on the scenery outside. You turned up the radio, a familiar enough song playing and he listened as you softly sang along in that little way that people do when they know the song but they don’t know the song. The soft murmurs under your breath that went along with the tune, but weren’t specific enough to make out each word. He smiled at that. He’d be lying if he didn’t actually think about road trips with you during summer, of turning up the radio so that the two of you could jam out shamelessly to a playlist you’d build together.

        You pulled into the driveway, shutting the car off after you watched Jeremy re-dress himself with winter attire (and you watched him smile when you made eye contact as he draped his scarf around his neck again to hide the hickey you’d given him the day before, and you couldn’t help but smile in return). Within the next few minutes, you were inside of his house and en route to his room, stripping off your thick jacket along the way.

        “Shit, babe, I know that I said I was going to clean after you left yesterday, but I kinda got preoccupied and I forgot about it,” Jeremy called out, “so my room is still a fucking mess- and, uh, I think I left my computer on the bed and hopefully I closed it but, fuck, I don’t remember-” And then he was following you, steps behind as you opened his bedroom door, his clothes strewn on the floor from changing that morning and his backpack open, binders carelessly shoved inside. “Sorry-” He said as he followed your gaze to his bag, “I had something stuck in my bag and I, uh, didn’t get a chance to organize- shit, I think I left a can of soda somewhere-”

        “Oh my god, Jeremy, shut up,” you laughed as you pulled him to you, lips smashing against his own, fingers gripping his shirt tightly within your fists.

        He clumsily kissed back, one hand at your cheek and the other grazing your arm as he stumbled force due to the sheer force of your pull. When he broke away, he pressed his forehead against your own, breathing softly as he sheepishly smiled.

        “I was rambling.” He said, not even questioning it, because he knew. 

        “Uh-huh.”

        “Sorry.”

        “Don’t be.” You reached up, caressing his cheek, “it’s cute.” You pressed a quick peck against his lips, “you’re cute.” You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re really, really fucking cute, Jeremy - I hope you know that. Like,” you drew away from him slightly, giving the smallest amount of distance between the two of you, “I like watching you talk about stuff you’re passionate about, even if I don’t understand half of it sometimes.” He watched you, not interrupting for a second. “Like - I know literally nothing about that Dungeons and Dragons podcast you listen to, but you get so fucking happy when you talk about it, it’s so cute. Or when you talk about some shit that happened when you were playing Overwatch, you get so fucking starstruck, it’s cute-”

        And then he kissed you, making you stumble back, pulling him with you as you fell. Pain sprawled throughout your back, Jeremy awkwardly pressed against you, and he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead as he kept asking if you were okay, to which you managed a nod.

        “Are you sure? I think we have-”

        “Shut up and kiss me, Jeremy.”

[gingerhulksmash]

hit me up w/ some voltron goodness 8)

Lance puts his foot down, and Shiro/Slav have a long overdue talk.

Shiro never figured Lance for the snapping type. They all had their moments, under the constant stress of intergalactic rebellion, but Lance kept a reasonably calm lid on it – his self-titled “rivalry” with Keith aside. Looking at him now, there is only surprise at the way he’s holding himself, the set of his expression: Lance looks both nervous and pissed off.

‘Keith – could you give us a minute?’ he says, in a deliberately calm voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keith hesitate, as if reading the tenseness of the situation and worrying that it might get out of hand. ‘Now, Keith. Go check on Slav’s sector.’

Reluctantly, and with a suspicious look at them both, Keith exits. Lance looks even more nervous when he does. More so when silence settles on them, and he raises a brow at Lance. Well? says the look, say what you have to.

‘I just… you’re way too hard on him,’ Lance repeats, a far cry from the irritated way he’d snapped Can’t you just cut Slav some slack? ‘He’s trying to help, Shiro. I-it’s not… he doesn’t mean to annoy you. It’s just how he… is.’

‘Excuse me?’ His previous calm turns to surprise. He keeps his voice low, not meaning to menace – but Lance scowls a little deeper, mistaking it for nonchalance. ‘Don’t, Shiro. You sound just like Iverson when you do that, a-and he was an ass,’ Lance says, voice rising only in pitch. Angry and nervous, like a cornered cat. Shiro takes a small step back to give him breathing room, but Lance stays tense. ‘Slav only wants to help. You treating him like a nuisance isn’t – it’s not fair, okay. He can’t help being jumpy; he was a prisoner for ages –’

It takes a second or two for that to sink in. When Shiro goes quiet, when his stare goes vacant as he processes this, Lance steps forward, speech picking up momentum as he grew more defensive.

‘– and it’s not easy to adapt out here,’ there’s a note of hurt in his voice, and it hits Shiro more than the chastising. ‘Slav got taken from his people and thrown into a war just like we did. He’s handling it different. YOU handled it different, we all did. I thought you’d understand him because of it, since you both got tortured by the Galra.’

That’s almost an accusation, and now Shiro fully understands what has Lance so fired up, so recalcitrant. And that understanding brings with it a sense of guilt, especially with the way Lance had said I THOUGHT you’d understand.

Looking back on it – on every time he’d spoken with Slav – how could he have missed this one glaring fault? Shiro had always been so discerning before, so willing to be patient. That was a trademark of the Black Paladin, was it not? Wasn’t it supposed to be? But Lance is right. He’s been short with Slav, and reactive, and hurried. However much it irked him that Slav’s panics and interference slowed them down at inopportune moments – hadn’t he been the same, once?

The Galra, God, those bastards, trained it into him. To always be on guard, to always be wary, to survive was to keep your wits about you, and know the consequences of every action. His bionic arm clenches its fist, the internal whirr of it under his skin reminding him how long ago his own escape had been. How uneasy he’d been following Ulaz, and trusting his surroundings. Not a far cry from Slav, he realises, with another pang of guilt. Was that why he was so sharp with his fellow survivor – because they were alike, but still miles apart in reaction to freedom? The fist clenches tighter, unwanted memories threatening to flood his mind. How long had Slav been locked up? What did they do?

Stupid questions; questions he could guess at. Questions he asked himself when they rescued Slav, and things he was always dimly aware of. One survivor to another, always aware. But he let his temper get the better of him regardless, and the shame of it sits tight in his gut.

‘Shiro?’ Lance’s voice reaches him eventually – hearing it as if it were a picture blurred out at the edges. Shiro blinks, and the horrified look on the blue Paladin’s face swims into clear focus. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned the Galra tortu – I mean, I shouldn’t have said that –`

He’d gone quiet for so long, Lance must’ve assumed he was remembering something awful, or worse – reliving it. Shiro takes a deep, steadying breath, and straightens up. Lance continues to fret.

‘I’m sorry, I’ll just shut –’‘Lance…’‘I wasn’t trying to upset –’‘Lance.’

There’s a little something of Slav’s mannerisms in Lance, Shiro notes. If he weren’t so sure their blue Paladin was protective and fair by nature, Shiro might have assumed he was speaking up for more than just Slav by standing up to him. Who knew? Perhaps he was. Either way, Shiro knew what he had to do, now.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, to which Lance looks startled. ‘I’m fine. And I should be less harsh with Slav.’‘W-wait. What?’‘It’s not something a leader should do, and I need to speak to Slav about it. Apologise, too. Thank you for standing up on that point, Lance.’

His voice is tired, and he knows. Lance still looks as if he’s worried Shiro might throw him in detention, or worse. Yell at him. That thought makes him pause, another inkling settling into his head. That day he’d yelled at Slav, Lance and Pidge had seen him lose his temper. You sound just like Iverson when you do that. Oh, God.

‘You’re not… mad?’ Is that relief in Lance’s voice, or confusion? ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Shiro replies, briefly touching a hand to Lance’s shoulder. Gratefully, solemnly. As if saying Don’t try and be apologetic for doing the right thing. ‘You were right. And I need to do something about it.’

Shiro assumes the shoulder-height pile of assorted wires, metal panels, and lenses contains Slav. The shrill voice emanating from within the mess, all loaded into an open panel of a metal hull, echoes around the empty construction room. ‘Who taught the green one to set wires? Now I have to re-set –`

‘It’s me, Slav,’ He knocks on the hull thrice, hoping not to startle, and the clatter inside the metal puddle stops instantaneously. ‘Have you got a minute?’

Slowly, Slav’s antennae poke through the wires. The whites of his eyes are just visible in the shadow, and soon, his whole head emerges, bearing the look of one extremely displeased with the interruption. Shiro clears his throat.

‘Time is of the essence,’ Slav points a finger as he says it, and the consternation isn’t lost on Shiro: a sharp twinge in his chest tells him these are words he’s most likely said to Slav, when urging him to work faster, or just stop stalling. ‘You want an Earth minute?’‘Just – just a moment of your time,’ Shiro corrects hastily, gesturing for Slav to come join him. He does, after a few tics of staring at Shiro with the greatest suspicion. Badly hidden anxiety.

More guilt, that. Shiro’s shoulders droop when he notices.

‘Is it serious?’ Slav asks.‘No,’ and then, ‘I mean – it is, but it’s a personal matter. Not rebellion-related.’‘Then I do not see how it is relevant. We are wasting valuable tics –’ ‘I wanted to apologise,’ Shiro cuts in, aware of how sharply he’d said it. Immediately, he softens; Slav recoiled ever so slightly, both in shock and bewilderment. ‘I wanted to… say sorry for being so rough these last few days.’

He used to be better at this. Better at levelling with other people, one-on-one. He could talk Keith out of a huff, talk Iverson down from his stretches of temper at Keith’s occasional flare-ups. He could reassure Matt on the impending separation from earth, from his sister, from home. He used to be more patient. Was there no reality that Slav could see, where he still was? He’d have to try for that reality to become THIS reality.

‘You’ve been doing amazing work,’ he continues, after a long pause. ‘And doing it for us willingly, at great risk to yourself. I’ve been less than civil on a number of occasions, and I… would like you to know, I am very sorry for it.’Slav squints, the feelers on his head and chin quivering anxiously. Unsure if it was a trick or not, apparently. After a hesitant few attempts, he speaks.

‘You… do not like my input on matters,’ A statement, or a question? He seems to be demanding something of Shiro: an answer, or confirmation. ‘It annoys you.’

Shiro doesn’t know what to say. It’s true, Slav’s little idiosyncrasies grate on his nerves sometimes. He nods, sighs, then hunches over where he sits, elbows resting on his knees. Slav coils his lower half to sit near, still staring intently at the frustrated Paladin.

‘When we met, I – it was such a tense situation, trying to escape,’ casting an apologetic glance at Slav, who’d looked uneasy at the memory, Shiro barrels on. ‘Trying to navigate you through those halls, especially when the other Paladins were in trouble and needed me… it wasn’t easy keeping my cool. And after that, too, it never stopped being tense.’

He thinks about it more than he ought to now. He’d never stopped to ask what attachment Slav had to that blanket he was so determined to smooth the right way. He’d seemed so docile until a dangerous possibility presented itself – the frenetic energy rolling from Slav then had been aggravating.

‘But it’s not an excuse,’ he says, at long last. ‘I pushed myself so hard when I escape. Kept telling myself I had to make every moment count, to not waste time because… because I have to lead this team, stop the Galra… I pushed hard to get over what happened to me. I didn’t,’

Slav, tentatively uncoiling to lean forward, is looking more and more tired as Shiro continues. Perhaps he understood the need to fill every space in his brain with their mission, to not let a single minute go to waste, to minimise all risks… To cope, the best way he knew how. Shiro looks Slav full in the eye, the barest flicker of recognition in him when he sees the exhausted look mirrored back at him.

‘I didn’t get over it. I don’t expect you to, either. What they did… it… it’s been so long since I was freed, I guess I forgot how much of a mess I was when I first escaped,’ Slav slumps a little, antennae twitching. Shiro pauses only to put a hand over Slav’s clasped ones. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away – Shiro takes that encouragingly. ‘I forgot how hard it was to come back. But I understand, now, how different all this has been for you… and I’m sorry.’

The coiled body shivers, the bowed head not rising an inch. There is a beat of stillness so worrying, Shiro thinks he’s said the wrong thing again.

‘I wish I could forget,’ Slav says, slowly. ‘It’s a comfort to know there was a time, in some reality, it never happened. To either of us.’‘I know. But what we’re doing here, it’ll make sure that reality doesn’t occur in any more lifetimes here.’

[aceb133]

Star, Queen of Mewni: Part I

So a couple weeks ago, I was browsing this ol’ website and I happened to come across this this image by @noekriz of an older Star in a more queenly regalia. And it got me thinking-how would the Star Butterfly we know deal with the wear and tear of the years ahead, and the constant grind against the overwhelming responsibilities of an absolute monarch?

Well, I eventually thought about it enough, I decided to have some fun with the concept and write this, the first part of a short story based around the concept of Star as Queen. No idea when I’ll write the next part, but suffice it to say I’ve already got the whole thing planned out, so hopefully if I do end up continuing this it won’t take too long. 

With that said, if you’re reading this, I hope you enjoy! Star, Queen of Mewni: Part I

It was approximately four hours into her 42nd Birthday Gala  when Her Majesty Star Butterfly, Queen of Mewni, realized she’d become her mother.

If there was any royal celebration Star hated above all others, it was her birthday. Far removed from the extravagant parties she’d celebrated as a youth, now the only thing she had to look forward to each Stump Day was a lengthy ceremony in which her “Eternal Grace and Wisdom” were praised for hours at a time by a series of increasingly elderly and incomprehensible speakers, and a lengthy reception in which she was forced to hobnob with what felt like every half-blooded noble in the realm. It was exhausting, it was boring, and each one only served to remind her that she had another year of stress and wrinkles to look forward to.

Doing her best to stifle a yawn, Star took a long draught from her wine goblet as yet another obscure dignitary hobbled away. He’d spent the best part of the past ten minutes talking her ear off about some dreadfully serious issue that he was hoping she could address personally. It was an issue, then, that she’d already forgotten what he’d asked. Something about a tax on corn, she believed.

Looking over the Grand Ballroom from her raised dais at the end of the room, it was all Star could do to stop herself from ditching the wine and tracking down a flask of infamously potent Mewman Bourbon. In her youth, the Grand Ballroom had more than lived up to its name, its titanic open space capable of completely distorting any and all sense of scale. Capable of housing thousands of guests and adorned with priceless works of sculpture and artwork, it was impossible not to marvel at the majestic Pillars of Celena, the famed trophies of Solaria, and samples of drink from the famed Wine Cellar of Festiva. In many ways, the Grand Ballroom was one of the greatest symbols of the power and majesty of the Butterfly Dynesty outside of the Royal Wand itself.

But as queen, its effect had shifted. Now, the overwhelming power of the ballroom wasn’t in its physical majesty-it was the throngs of people below, each one dependent on the Queen of Mewni-on Star. It was an utterly crushing, suffocating feeling, and she hated every minute of it. But she had no choice-who else was there to be Queen?

Then, just as an idle thought about warnicorns began to drift through Star’s head, a familiar voice broke through the din of the masses and tore her from her malaise.

“Well, if it isn’t Queen Star B-Fly?”

For the first time that night, Star smiled. Floating up to her past the long line of nobles awaiting an audience was none other but the Queen Lilacia Pony Head. Dressed in the finest regalia of the Pony Head kingdom, including the jeweled Pony Head Crown around her horn, Pony Head moved with the distinct air of utter confidence, conviction, and arrogance that only she could muster.

“Announcing the arrival of the delegation from the Pony Head Kingdom, my lady,” the ancient advisor standing next to Star wheezed. “For centuries, the Pony Head Kingdom-“

“Hobsworth, knock it off.” Star said. “Lilacia, may I just say it is such a delight to see you on such a... joyous occasion.”

Pony Head smiled at Star’s entirely unconcealed sarcasm. “Why, Queen Butterfly, I just wanted to bestow upon you the best wishes of the entire Pony Head Kingdom on this day of days, or, you know, whatever.”

Star struggled to swallow her laughter. “Say, uh, Hobsworth, the Queen Pony Head and I shall be taking a brief respite together, to conduct…” Star snapped her fingers, “Formal talks! Yes, that’s it.”

“And may I inquire how long these talks may last, my lady?” Hobsworth said. “I will have you know that there are quite a large number of royal guests who are eager to-“

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be quick.” Star waved her hand. “Now come, Lilacia, we have important, queenly matters to discuss.”

Queen Pony Head grinned, and began floating after Star. “Lilacia? Really?”

Star smiled mischievously. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

Pony Head rolled her eyes. “So, like, what’s his deal?”

“Oh, Hobsworth?” Star threw up her hand, “He’s my official diplomatic advisor. Knows everything and everybody, apparently, so whenever I meet someone I can pretend to know whatever it is they’re talking about.”

“Super-boring then?”

“Absolutely.” Star took a sip from her goblet. “I don’t think the man’s had fun in forty…”

Star stopped as a royal stepped out in front of the pair. A middle-aged man roughly in his late fifties, the man was dressed in extremely fine robes that proudly displayed the Butterfly family crest, and his chest was covered in various military ribbons and medals. Before Star or Pony Head had a chance to say anything, the man gave a deep bow. “My lady, Queen Butterfly, may I wish you the happiest of joys on this day of royal celebration.”

“Oh, hello Renwick.” Star said as the man stood up. “I am so… glad I had the chance to see you this evening.”

“Likewise, my lady.” He said. “And a special greeting to you, Queen Pony Head.”

“Uh, hey.” Pony Head responded. Under the bushy mustache and thick monocle, Star detected a slight tic in the man’s face.

“Well, Pony Head and I have much royal business to discuss, so we shall be going.” Star said.

“As you will, my lady.” Renwick said, and allowed the Queens to walk past him.

“Okay, forget Hobswhosits, what’s that guy’s deal?” Pony Head said, glancing backwards. “Now, I want to be nice, because this is your party and junk, but that due feels like he’s got a massive stick up his-“

“That, my friend, would be Commander Renwick Butterfly of the Royal Guard.” Star said, cutting Pony Head off. “He is a… driven man.”

“Ooh, don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.”

Star rolled her eyes. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give.”

In truth, she detested Renwick. A holdover from her mother’s regime, Renwick was one of the most stuck-up, stubborn, and conniving people she’d ever met. His lust for power was palpable, and Star felt dirty every time she talked to him. Fortunatley, she’d managed to keyhole him in his Royal Guard position, which was both a powerless, mainly ceremonial position while also being far too prestigious for him to give up. It kept him busy, and more importantly allowed her to keep an eye on him.

Star turned back to Pony Head. “Listen, Pony Head, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about-”

“Mom!”

Pony Head grinned. “Oh, here we go.”

Star repressed a sigh and turned to the new interruption, which was currently fighting her way through the thick crowd of dignitaries. Even if she hadn’t called out, of course, there was no mistaking the long brown hair, the round glasses, the freckle-like star field on her cheeks from which she got her name, or the long, thin wand she carried as belonging to anybody other than Princess Constellation Butterfly, the fourteen-year old Heir to the Throne of Mewni.

“Hello, Connie. Enjoying yourself?” Star asked as her daughter came closer.

“Uh, not really.” Connie said, scratching the back of her head. “I’m not gonna lie mom, these things are pretty boring.”

Star smiled. That’s my girl.

“Where’s Prince Pony Head?” Queen Pony Head asked. “Isn’t he usually with you?”

Connie shrugged. “I dunno, he was being kinda weird? He left with some of his friends to go partyin-“ She clapped her hands on her mouth. “Oh no, I meant-“

“Trust me girl, if that kid is partying the only thing he’s in trouble for is not taking me with him.” Pony Head replied, and then snorted. “Hah, just kidding, I’m totally going to ground his floating butt.”

For a moment, Connie looked devastated. Quickly, Star decided to interject. “It’s alright dear, he’ll be back and partying in no time. Now, was there something you wanted to tell me?”

Connie’s face immediately perked up as she looked at her mother. “Oh yeah! Okay mom, so I’ve been reading your spellbook, and I’ve been practicing really hard-“

“Uh huh…” Star said, half-listening, half-glancing at the crowd, scanning for watching eyes. Already, several people had turned to watch the Royal Family, and it was making Star nervous. If this was going where she thought it might, this was not a spotlight she wanted to be in, or expose Connie to.

“-And I think I’ve gotten pretty good at one of your old moves!” Connie continued. “And you know, since it’s your birthday, I thought it would be really cool if I could show it off!”

“Oh!” Star said, somewhat surprised, “Right now? In front of all these people?”

Connie’s smile broke as she looked around. As Star had feared, a growing number of people had turned to watch the royal family, staring curiously. “Oh, I, uh…”

To her disgust, Star spotted Renwick in the crowd, giving a wave. “Go ahead, young madam, show us your trick!”

“It’s not a trick!” Connie shot back, “It’s my mom’s spell!”

Star shot a nasty look at Renwick and turned back to her daughter. “Oh, sweetie, I’m not sure this is the best time to-“

It was too late. Connie had already clutched the wand to her chest, and closed her eyes in concentration. Shaking, she raised it above her head, gave a slight twirl and half-shouted, half-whispered “ME-MEGA NARWHALE BLAST!”

A single small Narwhale popped out of the wand and flopped out onto the floor.

Connie looked devastated. A couple observers half-heartedly clapped, which in Star’s opinion were almost worse than the hushed whispers were building nearby.

“It’s alright, Connie,” Star said, putting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you didn’t get it on your first try.”

“No, it’s-I did it! I can do it!” Connie protested. “I just need to-“

“Connie…”

“Let me-“

“Connie!”

Star’s daughter looked up at her mother, her eyes nearly welling with tears.

“Why don’t you go up to your room, practice it some more?” Star said as softly and as encouragingly as she could. “Then you can show me first thing in the morning.”

“Actually, my dear, in the morning you have your meeting with King Dunshire of the Extal Clan.” Hobsworth’s raspy voice piped up behind her.

It was all Star could do to prevent herself from turning and killing him on the spot.

Connie sighed. “It’s okay Mom. I’ll just show it to you when you’re not busy… whenever that’ll be.” Turning around, she began to walk away, her shoulders slouched and her head hung low.

Star nearly ran after her, but then she again glimpsed the crowd. She could feel hundreds of eyes boring into her, all with their own judgements and expectations. And if there was one thing they expected a Queen not to do, it was to run in public and emotionally comfort her wounded daughter.

And, as she watched her daughter slip out of sight, Star Butterfly realized she’d become her own mother-so focused on being Queen that she’d forgotten to be a mother. It was a devastating realization, and in that moment, she began to hate herself and her position more than she’d ever thought possible.

Star turned back to Hobsworth, drawing herself up as regally as possible. “Hobsworth, this evening has been rather draining on me. I shall be retiring from the night’s festivities. Have anyone who was seeking an audience leave their information, and let them know I shall take the time to personally respond to each one of their inquiries.”

“Yes, my lady,” Hobsworth said as he bowed, and hobbled off. As he did, the rest of the crowd began to return to shuffle off, returning to their prior discussions.

“Well that could have gone better.” Pony Head said.

Star sighed. “You’re telling me. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Pony Head followed as Star exited the Grand Ballroom and began weaving her way through the castle. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to reach the Royal Bedchambers, a suite whose exaggerated luxury and exquisite majesty had long since become a parody of itself. As Pony Head followed, Star marched through the bedroom and eventually came to what appeared to be a nondescript closet.

Star stepped forth, closed her eyes, and breathed. Feeling the magic power welling within her, she directed it into the door. Instead of opening, however, the door itself changed-from a white-painted slab of solid oak to a cheap, shutter-style closet door. Releasing the magic, Star stepped forward and opened it.

There were only two items inside: A red hoodie, and a pair of steel dimensional scissors.

“You still have those?” Pony Head said. “Girl, I thought you would’ve thrown those away, like, years ago.”

“Yeah, well, some things are hard to toss out.” Star said. Picking up the dimensional scissors, she took a moment to appreciate the solid weight in her hands. Then, opening them, she carved them through the air, tearing open a swirling blue portal.

Not bothering to wait for Pony Head, Star walked through. Shrugging as well as a creature without shoulders could, Pony Head quickly followed suite. Instantaneously, the pair found themselves in a place they both knew intimately, but hadn’t visited in nearly thirty years: The Bounce Lounge.

“Uh B-Fly, you know this place closed, right?” Pony Head said as she looked around.

For a moment, Star didn’t answer, and instead thought about the last time she’d been here-the day it had been closed by Milly Sparkles. For the most part, the Bounce Lounge looked the same as it had then, filled with destroyed tables, chairs, and other debris from Sparkles’ wrecking ball. Other than the three decades of added dust, however, it seemed as though little had changed.

“Like, if you want to go partying, I need to go find where Prince Pony Head went anyway, we could start jamming there.” Pony Head continued.

“No, it’s not that.” Star said, and sat down at one of the few intact booths. “I just needed to get away from the castle, and this was the first place I thought of.”

“This was the first place you thought of?” Pony Head replied. “Girl, I thought for sure you had better taste than this.”

Star smiled. In a world where it felt like everything was changing, including herself, Pony Head had been the one rock-solid constant in her life, for better or for worse.

Leaning back in the booth, she stared up into the swirling clouds above. “Pony Head, you ever think to yourself… how did I let it get like this? You know, whatever happened to the bouncy, fun, excitable fourteen-year-old girl you used to be?”

For the first time in her life, Pony Head appeared momentarily contemplative, then shook her head. “Nope. Never. Uh-uh, not once.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Star said, sighing. “I just feel like I’m turning into my mother.”

“B-Fly, don’t you ever say that.” Pony Head said sharply. “You’re your own girl, girl! Don’t think you’re like your mom just because you’re, you know, Queen and stuff.

“I mean, look at me!” She continued, twirling in space. “Yeah, I rule the Pony Head Kingdom, but I also, you know, still rule. You just can’t let it get to you!”

“Wow, thanks Pony Head.” Star said, sitting up. “That was… surprisingly good advice, coming from you.”

“Mmm, don’t mention it, you know I got your back.” Pony Head said.

“Heh, yeah, I know it alright.” Star said.

For a minute, neither said anything, and merely contemplated the empty space around them. Memories of the Bounce Lounge in its heyday flashed through Star’s head, and she smiled at the nostalgia. She’d had so much fun here in her youth-hanging with the Bounce Crew, taking pictures in the photo booth, dancing with Marco…

The last thought pulled her back into the present, and she pushed it out of her mind. But it had also served as an aching reminder of what had transpired that evening, which felt even worse.

“I really messed up tonight, didn’t I?” Star said, half talking to Pony Head, half admonishing herself. “You know, I bet Connie could’ve done the spell if I hadn’t doubted her.

“It’s pretty easy, you know?” Star said, mocking as though she had a wand. “You know, it’s just-“ she twirled her arms-“Narwhale blast!”

She laughed. “I don’t even know what I was thinking when I came up with that.”

“Well yeah, that was like pretty much all your spells back then.” Pony Head said.

Star leaned back down and looked up at the clouds. “I can’t even remember the last time I cast Narwhale Blast. Or Rasberry Panzerfaust. Or Spider with…” she snapped her fingers, “What was it…”

“A top hat?”

“Spider with a top hat blast!” Star said, pointing straight at the sky. “The most powerful spell I knew, back then.”

She sighed. “And it was gonna be Connie’s big moment, and I ruined it for her.”

“Oh don’t be so hard on yourself, B.” Pony Head said. “I mean, she probably would’ve, like, failed anyway.”

Star frowned. “Pony Head, that’s not encouraging.”

“Just saying.”

Star lifted up the heavy steel scissors and looked at her reflection in their polished surface. “It’s just… hard for her. She’s not nearly as confident with the wand as I was at her age, and I don’t have nearly enough time to help her like I should.” She laid the scissors down on the table beside her and sighed. “I don’t even see her most days, I’ve been so busy. Did you know there are monsters who want to renegotiate the Corn Redistribution Treaty?”

“Whaaaat? Oh what, now they get corn, but it’s not good enough for them?”

“It’s not like… well, maybe it is a bit like that, but I can understand their concerns.” Star said. “I’ve spoken to Duke Frog-I mean, Duke Bulgolyubov about the issue, and he’s been very worried that some monsters may start rioting if we don’t ‘take further action to address monster’s needs.’

“But THEN,” Star continued, “There are members of the royal court who would rather cut off their own heads than give the monsters another ear. It was hard enough getting the Treaty through in the first place, I just don’t know what we’re going to do to try and adjust it.”

“Too bad like it’s not the old days, when we would just beat up the bad guys.” Pony Head said, and thrust her horn upwards to emphasize the point. “Cuz trust me, there are plenty of jerks back in my court I’d love to put some hurt on.”

Star raised a clenched fist and shook it. “Oh, if only.”

“Star, let’s be serious for a second, okay?”

“Do we have to?”

Pony Head snorted, and Star forced herself to sit up again.

“Star, you gotta ease up a little. This whole thing is tearing you apart, and you’re not gonna last much longer if you keep this up.”

Star frowned. “Now hold on-“

“Star, when’s the last time we talked?”

“It was…” Star racked her brain. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked to Pony Head. Her face contorted with the effort. “…Smarch?”

“Exactly. You don’t talk to me, you don’t talk to Kelly, all you do is hang out in your lame palace doing lame, unimportant boring stuff all day.”

Star’s face started to grow red. “Pony Head, that’s not fair and you know it. Sure, it’s boring, but it’s important. I have to-“

“Oh, I’m sorry Queen Butterfly.” Pony Head retorted in a mocking tone. “Girl, you keep talking like that you really are gonna turn into your mom.

“Look, I’ll tell you what my daddy told me when I took the crown: You’re the boss, but that doesn’t mean you have to boss everyone, okay? That’s what jerks you hire from earth with business degrees are for.”

“Hah, earth.” Star said wistfully. “I wonder how-“

“Girl, focus.” Pony Head said. “And I’m gonna tell you what you’re gonna do, one queen to another, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” Star said.

Pony Head glared. “Okay…”

Star laughed. “Okay, your Majesty”.

Pony Head grinned. “Now, that’s more like it. So here’s what you’re gonna do: You’re gonna go home, find Connie, and help her Narwhale Blast that Renwick guy, cuz’ that dude, like, needs it.”

Star held her chin and faux-contemplated the order. “Hmm, yes to the first part, second part… Maybe. Though you’re not wrong.”

“Next: You’re gonna talk to Hobsden-“

“Hobsworth”

Pony Head rolled her eyes. “Hobitty-who-cares, and tell him you’re taking a two week vacation, with Connie, starting tomorrow. B-Day present for B-Fly.”

“Uh, Pony Head, I appreciate the sentiment,” Star said, “But that’s not happening. I mean, just tomorrow I have to chair the Magical High Commission meeting, there’s a delegation from the Underworld I’m meeting with, and there’s the Corn Committee hearings on…” She stopped and put her hand to her head. “Pony Head, I think I need a vacation.”

“Mewni isn’t going to collapse if you leave for, like, five minutes.” Pony Head agreed. “Just take a trip, take it now, and maybe you can start acting like you just got out of Saint O’s.”

“Eehk” Star shivered. Three decades on, that place still gave her nightmares. “Okay, okay, you’ve got me.” Standing up, she stretched, and gave Pony Head a hug.

“Oh girl, you know I’m here for you.” Pony Head said. “After all, we’re still best besties, aren’t we?”

Star smiled at the reference from her childhood. “What was it we used to say? Best besties don’t let their best besties have bad B-Day days?”

She shook her head. “What a mouthful.”

“Well, it’s still true.” Pony Head said. “Now, let’s head back. Renwick’s not gonna blast himself.”

Smiling, Star took the dimensional scissors and tore open another portal. She knew her friend was right-she was taking on too much personal responsibility, and it wasn’t good for herself, for Connie, or for the kingdom. A lengthy vacation would do wonders to clear her head-and after she got back, she’d see about scaling down her schedule to something marginally more manageable.

But when she stepped through the portal, she immediately knew something was wrong. Instead of her bedroom, they’d appeared outside of the castle entirely. Which would never happen, unless the Castle’s Tramorpidian crystal was activated. And that would never happen, unless the castle’s defenses were…

Star looked into the sky. High above, the castle was burning.

[startsrose3]

Awkward

Awkward

“Well, this is awkward.”

And it was. They were both standing really close to each other, not really knowing how to proceed; they didn’t know where they stand. Were they friends? Were they lovers? Were they none of the mentioned before? There's no way they could know. Well, there was one way, but they weren’t really eager to do that.  

Talking. It was never really their thing, they just let things happen naturally, with an unspoken agreement, that seemed more than enough for both of them during all the time they spent “together(?)”. But they didn’t talk about it because they were really cool or something similar; they never talked about anything because they were incredibly bad at communication. She, was a very closed off person, with severe trust issues, it was just easier to simply don’t talk about it. And he, he was just a mess of a man, afraid of commitment, or anything that seemed slightly serious. A real match made in heaven. Because of that, they didn’t know how to act, for the first time ever since they started this whole thing(?) their unspoken agreement was off, there was no mutual understanding of how to proceed things in a moment like that.  

So, they just stared at each other. Not knowing what to do, not knowing if they should say something. She was really thinking about it, she was slowly building the courage to just say: “We need to talk about this”. But it was too hard, those were probably the hardest six words she ever had to say. And as she was slowly trying to confront the situation, he was slowly looking for a way out. He really didn’t want talk his feelings out. For some reason he was so afraid he would mess things up, he just rather say nothing ninety nine percent of the times, it was safer that way, he liked her. For him, their ‘relationship’ was just like a very thin piece of glass; every sudden move could break it and destroy everything, you had to be careful with it, or else it would shatter and then it’s gone. So, for that reason he avoided talking about things. He was so afraid of breaking the glass, he did what he could to protect it.

But things were getting to a point you can’t avoid any longer. They had been staring at each other’s souls for more minutes that would be considered ok. Everything about that scene only made the situation weirder. The ambient was dead silent; with only the sound of their breathing composing the soundtrack; it was dark enough to be considered a sexy dark, which only made things worse somehow; they were sitting side by side, brushing shoulders and all; and looking deeply at each other’s eyes. She was getting impressed of how long she was being able to hold eye contact, that really wasn’t her thing. Looking at other people’s eyes made her nervous, so she avoided whenever she could. With him, he ran away of any kind of situations that looked serious, not just eye contact, anything that could feel a little real made him heading to the nearest window.

But there wasn’t a window nearby and they were running out of time. She opened her mouth, to say something, but instead she leaned in, to kiss him. But they stopped inches before their tongues met. They brushed lips before she pulled away.  

“No, that doesn’t feel right.” She said as she pulled away from him, looking down and swinging her feet quickly. Nervous tic. She did that when she was a little nervous and/or embarrassed.

“Yeah, it doesn’t.” He said turning away, they were both sitting straight now. Looking up and down, trying to build up the courage to just... get this over with. “I guess we’ll have to talk about it.”

“Sadly.”  

“Wait, sadly?” he interrupted her. “You don’t want to talk about this?” she shook her head as no. “Oh great God!” he turned at her again, grabbing her hands and looking to her eyes with an excited smile. “Honey, we can do this, let just talk our feelings out and maybe get out of here.”

That made her laugh. That was a thing he was good at, making her laugh. Ninety percent of what they did when they were together was laughing. That was one of the main reasons why they were “together(?)”, in the first place. They just had so much fun together it was impossible to not want to just be always around one another. They had the same sense of humor, they had the same taste, they understood each other’s weird habits and they had some sort of secret language where they could communicate solely using their eyes. Plus, the physical stuff was just great. Their bodies matched in a way it never did with anyone else. He made her feel over the moon, and she made him feel in another planet. So, how could you not want be around each other?

“Okay so, what are we?” she asked.

“We’re friends.” Was his only answer, she arched her brow.  

“Yeah but, it’s not all we are, right?” it was his time to arch his brow, that conversation was taking turns he was regretting already. “I mean, we’ve been making out for the past two months, just friends don’t do that, they’re platonic.”

“Okay, so in my defense, I never said we’re platonic. I just said that we’re friends, which we are. I was just starting slowly with this whole ‘what are we’ thing,” he made a quick pause. “But since you want to do this all at once: no, I don’t think we’re just friends, but I don’t think we have a serious relationship either.” All of that wasn’t new for her, it wasn’t like she didn’t know any of this, they just hadn’t put it out there, said it to be immortalized. But they knew it; yeah, they knew it.

“Yeah, we don’t.” He just shook his head in response, crossing his arms. “Because you’re in love with someone else.”

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t bring that up”, he said in a less cheered tone.

“I’m your best friend,” she made a pause and stared deep into his eyes. “Of course, I would bring that up.” That time, he was the one to laugh, and she pulled him to a hug. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear while they were still caught up on each other’s embrace.  

“But you do have feelings for me,” he threw it out there, uncertain if that was a question or a statement. Her eyes were suddenly filled with water, and a single pair of tears escaped her eyes. She looked into his eyes for almost a full minute before she said anything.  

“I do.” A beat was installed in the room, and not bearing to meet her gaze any longer, he looked down and licked his lips while he waited to see if she would say anything else. “And I don’t think it was okay for you to use me to forget about her. It’s not how that works.”

That time he was the one with tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad, all I want in this world is for you to be happy, and you by my side, no matter how.” She looked down again, and took a deep breath. Even though it wasn’t the best thing in the world, talking really made things better. “I’m fine with just being your friend, I'll just need some time to adapt. We're too good together to be kept apart.”

He hugged her tight, and whispered: “I couldn’t agree more with you honey.”  

And for a few moments, they just stayed like that. Loosing themselves on each other’s arms. “Can we just do it? One last time?” and as in a ‘yes’ he kissed her hard, they enjoyed each other’s lips until their lungs were on fire. “That was a pretty good last kiss, don’t you think?” he laughed and mouthed a breathless ‘yeah’.  

And after a few moments of comfortable silence she said: “I guess some people were just born to be friends.”

[mistralrunner]

Running Reads Oathbringer: Part II.V

Wow, it’s been a week since Oathbringer came out. I feel like Part I was ages ago.

Spoilers for pages 529-554 below. Again, also Mistborn spoilers.

Hmmmm

Hmmmmmmmm

That "I think" vocal tic

Sazed?!?!?!

Aaaaaaaaa

It has to be intentional right

Aaaaaaaaa Sazed I missed you

I still don't even know for sure if it's you but I miss you

Now back to actual plot

I have hope that these Parshmen slaves will escape the command of the Fused

Moash you can follow Kaladin's example. Just waiting to you to realize that. Eventually.

Ah Moash does know now

Kind of wish we got his initial reaction to learning that of all the groups he ended up with he ended up with the one that met Kaladin Stormblessed

Okay turning your eerie carapace into a saw is pretty cool

And the idea that these vengeful ghosts included carpenters, in a weird echo of the Heralds providing knowledge of Professions

Ironic that the beginning of each Desolation is a restoration of knowledge but it's geared toward war and destruction

I still can't believe that the Bridge Four situation with people being sacrificed to soak up arrows is happening again

Concerning/comforting to know some of the Voidbringers are crazy? Still not sure which.

The floating Voidbringers really do have an aesthetic

Kaladin's still the master of wind and sky though

Voidlight...

I guess that's a good name for it

That is a pretty cool and intimidating way to have a meeting

I am curious about this Leshwi

Moash is a Parshmen name? The ironies grow. How did that happen linguistically though? What were human-Voidbringer interactions that weren't just stabby stabby like in those days

Ah we get the consequences of constantly respawning Voidbringers up close

Huh are they just testing the humans to find the most worthy to their side rather than putting them on a pedestal after initial promise

I'm really worried for Moash

The idea that Parshmen bodies are sacrificed as hosts *shudders*

Okay having Voidlight holding you up just feels creepy and wrong

Ah but initially he was kept alive for potential vengeance

Sacrifice that's not your own, bastard

"Some of you may die, but that is a sacrifice I'm willing to make"

The whole throw yourselves to die cause if you live you're worthy and you'll be honored mentality so manipulative

Okay I agree Moash that the Alethi stink but the Voidbringers are slavers too

Oh no I'm scared

Kind of worried my wild theory that Moash will be Odium's champion and Kaladin Honor's champion will come true

The irony that he's still in his Bridge Four coat

Ah one last test of loyalty give him the choice of freedom and see what he does

You know at the beginning of this chapter I would have been delighted to see Moash pulling a Bridge Four with the Parshmen but now I am storming terrified

Yep it's Sazed.

Sazeedddddd

We interrupt our Stormlight liveblog because of yet another infiltration of Mistborn feels

I really hope Sazed can help in some way though

He actually is willing to help it seems

Ooh a Rlain pov I was hoping for one of those

Aww he's so alone

But the music thing is interesting. Rhyshadium attract musicspren, the vibrating devices to store information, the idea that humans could listen to the rhythms

What happened to those Listeners who fled though. Can we find them and reunite them with Rlain so he isn't so alone?

Rlain needs a hug

At least all the lady scouts can draw Stormlight

That is rough for Rlain even if Bridge Four does try

I'm glad Renarin and Rlain have some solidarity though

30-50 miles is quite the radius for squires

Admittedly for a Windrunner that can be pretty short but it's much better than say a mile

Yes please give Renarin leeway let him be well rounded

I'm glad they're trying. Stumbling sometimes but trying.

Also I appreciate Rock so much more

Bridge Four heart to heart, multiple people admitting they feel alone and being together in that I love this so much so so much

Yes good Kaladin I'm so glad Rlain gets to talk this out

Wait ancient singers and the potential for humans to hear the Rhythms-did the Dawnchant originate from the Parshmen? The Dawnsingers?

Also I'm starting to consider Illumination as one of the more dangerous Surges to the Radiant using it. You can heal physical damage from a misuse of Gravitation, generally, but Cognitive/Spiritual damage from Illumination perhaps not so much...I'm really worried about Shallan and Renarin now.

Yeah Hoid, the trickster thing might be fun, but it really isn't a way to garner support among the Shards. Being secretive until you want something is suspicious. Also thanks Sazed for asking the questions on all of our minds

I love the mother daughter scholarship trips and all the exposition and context for these visions

This should be interesting too cause it's the Recreance vision right

Two thousand years?

Since it's 1173 when did the calendar start then?

And what happened in the 2.5 millennia after Aharietiam if we're still at bronze weapons

There's a False Desolation?

Yeah what I suspected, the Voidbringers lingered to some degree

And yet people still believed the Desolations were over?

Aww Gawx

I am surprised he's admitting his insecurity to Dalinar of all people

Aww we missed a Lift appearance

I don't trust you white and gold person

Cause I'm pretty sure you're not Adonalsium

Which means you're probably Odium

Who's playing a very twisted and clever game if so

AAAAA IT IS ODIUM

So that comforting warmth at the end of WoR for Dalinar was probably due to Odium

That’s disturbing

And while I suspect that the histories weren't as black and white as they seemed, I trust Hoid's judgment on this one that Rayse shouldn't be trusted

You know Sazed has had the fairest reaction but I fear open honesty for Hoid might be more challenging than the water challenge level

(What if Kelsier is sent to help despite him and Hoid hating each other. Too much of a risk of disaster but it'd be hilarious.)

Back to screaming about how insidious Odium is

Oh no Dalinar is technically capable of freeing Odium that's terrifying

The Ruin and Preservation debacle has prepared me for this

Both in terms of not trusting the kindly voice who wants you to free them and in terms of their arguments about why they're not so bad

Of course Honor or Cultivation at their extremes are bad. As are you, Odium. And you're the only one seeking full domination here.

You know Hoid, now would be a good time for honesty and giving Dalinar an infodump

Oh except for the fact that this entire part has established there's a good chance Hoid will be off world seeking help. Bravo Sanderson.

Oh dear you asked for that Dalinar

Talking to a Shard's avatar is nothing

Meanwhile I'm imagining a wild Kelsier jumping into this scene and continuing his trend of punching gods

Was that nervousness from Odium?

LIFT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DISSING ODIUM

How much of Cultivation was Invested into Lift

Heh free food to bribe Lift XP

I'm freaking out so much that I'm not even exulting over Lift finally joining the party and thus getting more screentime