#shes so particular. so hard to impress ugh

[dizzybizz]

How are your cats doing

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[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 7 - Summer: Paintings and Sunflowers

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Your relationship with Neuvillette continues to develop. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now?. Also someone walks in on someone coming out from the bath Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in front of his fellow dragon apep's house

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“This isn’t working...” you sighed as you stared at your watercolor painting, which was more water than color due to the fact that your paints were heavily watered down to make them last longer. 

You were currently trying to update your art portfolio, which was woefully inadequate. You had heard that governesses who could teach art were in high demand these days, so you decided to concentrate on art recently. 

However, the blobby mess that meant to be the view of the sea from the garden was highly unlikely to impress anyone. 

The sun was beaming down on you heavily. Even your old straw hat was having a hard time doing its job. You took a sip of Snezhnayan water. Seriously, what is the difference between this and water from Fontaine? Maybe I’m just too unenlightened to understand. 

Ever since you and Neuvillette decided to be friends, things had been...quite different. The two of you talked about everything and nothing. Neuvillette liked talking about water and the Melusines, while you would talk about the books you had read. After a while, you sensed that he was learning more about you than you about him, as he always steered the subject away from himself and towards you. It was odd to have someone be interested in your opinions about things...but you found that you really liked that feeling. 

You could ask Neuvillette for money to buy new paints, a voice said in your mind, but you shook your head. You couldn’t ask that favor of a friend, and besides, it was better that you didn’t rely on him too much, or you would get used to it in the future. 

Maybe I'll go check out the art supplies store again and see if they have anything on sale, you thought. Standing out here wasn’t going to do anything.  

Deciding to do just that, you went up to your room to change and spotted your sister’s letter on your desk. That reminded you that you had to buy her a birthday present soon. Since you didn’t have to worry about money as much these days, maybe you could buy her something nice this year.  

“Marie, I’m going out!” you called out to the parlor where she was dusting.  

“Okay, Madame,” Marie said, poking her head out from the door. Her eyes widened upon seeing your long-sleeved dress. “Are you truly going to wear that dress in this weather?” 

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s in solidarity,” you said, thinking of Neuvillette’s heavy, multilayered getup that he wore every day. You idly wondered if he sweated.  

“Solidarity?” Marie repeated in confusion, but you were already out the door.  

“Ugh...” 

You were quickly regretting your choice to wear this particular dress. Your hair was already matted to your forehead with sweat.  

It was late afternoon, but the temperature showed no sign of dropping. Looking at the cold drinks held by pedestrians, you decided to stop by the Café to get some iced Fonta first. Ah, just the thought of it made your water. 

As you approached the establishment, you stopped in your tracks. Sitting in the corner table, far out of sight (but not far enough to not attract stares from other patrons) was Neuvillette and Menthe. Both of them reminded you of wilted flowers. 

“What kind of water do you serve here?” you asked the manager, Arouet.  

“...Just regular water, Miss?” the manager looked confused. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Alright, please get me a glass of cold water, an iced Fonta, and an iced coffee, please,” you said.  

After you got your orders, you walked over to the table. “You two look like you could use a pick-me-up.” 

“Ah, Madame,” Neuvillette said and attempted to straighten up in his chair. He looked as impassive as ever, but you had observed him long enough to know that he was in quite a lot of misery right now. “Such pleasant weather we’re having today, perfect for a walk in the city. I see that you have the same idea as well.” 

You stared at him. Is he being serious right now? “Please don’t force yourself, sir. We both know you can’t stand this weather,” you placed the drinks down on the table and sat down. “Here, water for Monsieur Neuvillette, and an iced coffee for Menthe.” 

“Thank you, Madame,” Menthe said with a yawn. “I needed this.” 

“What are you doing here?” you asked Neuvillette. “You know better to than to be out and about, dressed as you are.” 

“I was out for a quick shopping trip, and then I saw Menthe looking a bit dispirited, so I thought I would take her into the shade to rest.” 

I think you’re the one in need of rest here, you thought as you watched Neuvillette wipe at his forehead with a handkerchief. So he does sweat after all. 

“You were shopping? Why didn’t you just get someone to do it for you?” 

Neuvillette cleared his throat and looked away. It was only then that you noticed something wrapped in parchment paper in his lap. “I didn’t wish to entrust this to someone else. I was shopping for a present for someone important.” 

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. Was it a Melusine’s birthday today or something? “What a coincidence, I’m out shopping as well. For paints, and if I’m lucky, a birthday present for my sister.” 

“Paints?” Menthe looked at Neuvillette. “Oh, Monsieur—” 

“Ahem, Menthe,” Neuvillette cleared his throat.  

“Oh, um, I mean, Monsieur Neuvillette told me that you paint really beautifully, Madame! He really likes your paintings of the sunflowers back in your hometown.” 

“Her sketches are wonderful as well,” Neuvillette said, sounding oddly proud. “You should show the Melusines your sketchbook some time, Madame.” 

“Ooh, may I?” Menthe looked at you with big eyes.  

He’s making too much of me, you thought, hiding your embarrassment by chugging down your Fonta. “Alright,” you said. 

“Yay!” Menthe clapped her hands together. Just then, the great clock in front of the café let out a chime, signalling the end of the hour. “Oh, I must get back to work. Goodbye, Monsieur, Madame!” 

“Goodbye, Menthe. Please take care of yourself,” Neuvillette patted the Melusine on the head, who giggled and skipped away. You found yourself feeling oddly jealous. 

Now it was just the two of you. You looked at Neuvillette, who was sipping his water. He looked back at you.  

“Um, I hope the water is to your liking,” you said. “I know it’s not the fancy imported stuff you enjoy.” 

“It’s perfect,” he said. “Just what one needs on a day like this.” 

You looked at his outfit. His cravat was tightly tied around his neck, and his cuffs were buttoned neatly, showing not a bit of skin. He must be dying on the inside right now, but he still managed to look put together. You felt very shabby next to him. 

“I know you said that you always dress according to your standing, and I respect that. But I feel like you could at least take off your gloves, or loosen your cravat a little when you’re on break. I doubt anyone would mind.” In fact, they might go crazy over it.  

“Very well,” Neuvillette said, then proceeded to take off his gloves. The silver ring on his finger glinted even in the shade. 

“You're still wearing the ring!” you blurted out in surprise. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.  

You didn’t know how to answer that. 

“And you’re wearing yours as well,” Neuvillette said, indicating your right hand, which was mostly covered by your sleeve. To be honest, you put it on every morning without even thinking about it anymore. It was a reminder to yourself that as easy and comfortable as this “marriage” was, it was still a marriage, and one that was a means to an end. That was what you told yourself, anyways. 

Neuvillette continued to sip his water. He seemed to be enjoying it, which pleased and baffled you at the same time. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the idea of water from different places having distinct flavors, but Neuvillette swore up and down that the difference was real and that anyone could taste it if they savored the water patiently enough. Even now, you still wondered if he was secretly testing you or something.  

Still, what a shame it is that he doesn’t enjoy Fonta, you thought. He’s missing out.  

Back in your hometown, only the basic, original flavor was available. But once you moved to the Court of Fontaine, you were introduced to a veritable rainbow of Fonta flavors. You had even spent a week drinking nothing but Fonta. You suspected Neuvillette might have a heart attack if he heard about it. 

Neuvillette finished his water, and then stood up with the box tucked under his arm. “I must return to work. I shall see you at home, in the evening.” 

You nodded. “Make sure to stay cool, sir.” 

Neuvillette was about to walk away when he suddenly turned around. “Ah, Madame. Are you still going to visit the art supplies shop?” 

“Yes. Why?” 

He looked like he was about to say something, but then shook his head. Was he...smiling? Before you could look closer, he turned away. “It’s nothing. Please, enjoy your day.” 

You watched him until he was just a blue speck in the distance. 

Afterwards, you headed to the store. Unfortunately, none of the good quality paints were on sale. Maybe I should just make my own, you thought glumly. The owner, on the other hand, seemed to be in a very good mood. 

By the time you got home, it was already evening. You decided to take a nice long bath to wash away all the sweat. Ah, baths are the best, you thought as you soaked in the bubbles. Back at the boarding house, you had to share two bathrooms with twenty other girls. This was heaven. 

Just then, you heard a knock on the door. That was probably Marie. You wrapped yourself in a towel and went to the door. “Coming!” you shouted and opened the door. “Marie, what—” 

Your words got stuck in your throat as your eyes took in the tall figure standing in front of your room. He was holding the wrapped package from earlier in his hands.  

For a few agonizing seconds, the two of you simply stared at each other. You saw his hands start to shake, and redness creeping to his cheeks. 

You slammed the door in his face and hurriedly put on your bathrobe. Your thick, fluffy bathrobe with a sturdy tie that could be fastened tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination.  

Taking a few deep breaths to control your pounding heart, you flung open the door, catching your bright red face in the vanity mirror in the process.  

Neuvillette was still standing there. You were pretty sure that he hadn’t moved a single inch. His face was now visibly red. As soon as he caught sight of you, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from you.  

“M-My deepest, sincerest apologies to you, Madame,” he said. His voice sounded as though it was being uttered from the deepest trenches of the sea. “I have committed a disgraceful act—” 

“Let’s just forget about it,” you interrupted him. “We’ll both pretend that it never happened. And besides, um, I wasn’t completely naked or anything, I was wearing a towel, and we’re technically married, so...” 

What in Archons’ name are you talking about? Your mind screamed. Neuvillette seemed as though he might never look at you in the eye again. 

“So, anyways, that present is for me?” you said. Does that make me the important person? Despite the situation, your heart grew warm. 

Neuvillette nodded and held it out to you. It looked like he wasn’t going to speak to you again either. 

You carefully accepted the box and tore open the packaging. You let out a gasp when you saw a rosewood box with a carving of roses on the lid. 

It was the watercolor set from the art store you had always admired from a distance. It was too expensive for you to even dream of owning it, of course. 

But now, it was in your hands. 

You opened the box and was met with robes of paints, brushes, and an even a small palette.  

“Y-You got this for me?” you said, looking up at him. He still wasn’t looking at you. “Why? H-How did you even...?” 

“I-I did say that I wanted to help you achieve your goals, and I...I noticed that you were in need,” Neuvillette said. “And, do friends not give presents to each other?” 

“Yes, but...not anything so expensive!” you stroked the lid. “I cannot possibly repay you.” 

It was then that Neuvillette finally turned his head and fixed his gaze on you. “There is no need for repayment. I bought this because I wished to. Just seeing you content is enough for me.” 

His words struck something deep within you. You were so used to receiving hand-me-downs, of stretching things to their limits, that you had no idea what to do in this situation. Your hands felt like they should be doing something, but what? 

“Thank you,” you whispered, and before you knew what you were doing, your hands reached out and clasped his hand tightly. You could feel its warmth even through the glove, and the contours of his ring. You shook his hand vigorously. “I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life.”  

Neuvillette stared at you for a few moments, and then he turned around and walked away. It might have been a dramatic moment, if his brisk pace didn’t cause him to step on his coat tails and almost trip. 

For the third time in the hour, Neuvillette glanced at the clock. He was currently attending a banquet hosted by an important government official, which meant he had to attend. 

He forced another bite of the dry steak into his mouth. He reached for his glass to wash it down with wine. Wine wasn't his first choice of beverage, but it was better than nothing. 

The other dignitaries sitting near him engaged him in conversation about politics and other related topics, and he did his best to respond in kind. But perhaps because his mind was unfocused, his answers came out short and curt. The others seemed to take this as annoyance at being bothered and excused themselves. 

He held back a sigh. Even though social events like these weren’t his strong suit nor even his hobby, he generally tried his best to perform his role and to fit in. But tonight, he was suddenly feeling very impatient to go home. He had been feeling this feeling a lot recently.  

Neuvillette absentmindedly stroked his ring. I wonder what she is doing right now... 

For the past few days, his wife had been working on something and had promised that it would be finished by today. She had refused to let him see it until it was ready. All he knew was that it had something to do with painting.  

Neuvillette glanced at the clock again. There were still hours before this banquet was supposed to end. He closed his eyes and took another sip of wine, imagining calming things in order to quell the restlessness he was feeling. A perfectly flat water surface at night, a cool sea breeze, the smiles of the Melusines, his wife’s smile when he gave her the watercolor set, the feel of her hands around his... 

“Ah, Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you for coming,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see the host of the banquet standing before him. There was a young woman standing next to him. “May I introduce you to my daughter?” 

The young lady curtsied gracefully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur.”  

“Likewise,” Neuvillette nodded.  

The young lady stepped closer, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. He couldn’t help but compare it to his wife’s scent when she came out of the bath that day— 

“Oh, dear, Monsieur, are you okay?” the young lady and her father looked at Neuvillette with worry as he coughed violently, having choked on his wine. 

“P-Please excuse me,” he said after the fit subsided, and then proceeded to walk out to the balcony to catch his breath. There was no view of the sea from here. It was going to be a long day. 

The sky was dark by the time Neuvillette arrived home, but even from the front door, he could tell that his house was uncharacteristically noisy. 

There seemed to be a crowd of people in the parlor. Neuvillette paused at the door, listening to the snatches of conversation. 

“Madame, are you almost done with Rhemia?” 

“Blathine, don’t rush her. She has been sketching for hours now.” 

“Madame, could you teach me how to sketch too?” 

“Sure. It’ll be good practice, anyways.” 

Neuvillette opened the door. A group of Melusines were sitting on the couches and floor of the parlor. Even Marie was there. They were all holding sketches in their hands, and watercolor paintings were scattered on the floor. In the center of it all, his wife was sitting in his chair, sketching a posing Rhemia.  

“Monsieur Neuvillette, you’re home!” Sedene was the first to notice him.  

His wife turned her head towards him, and the corners of her lips turned up slightly. Neuvillette felt all the restlessness and fatigue he felt earlier drain away.  

“Welcome back,” she said and stood up, giving him back his chair. “How was the banquet?” 

“It was fine,” he said. “What are you all doing?” 

“Well, the Melusines all came over and asked me to show them my paintings. Then, they wanted me to sketch them, so I did.” 

“I see,” Neuvillette said, peering at the sketch of Rhemia. “They are wonderful.” 

“Thank you.” His wife seemed to be putting the finishing touches on the sketch. Neuvillette studied her profile. She looked completely focused on her work. 

“It’s done,” she announced, and handed the sketch to Rhemia.  

“I’m next,” Blathine said and stepped forward. 

"I think Madame Neuvillette needs to rest her hands a little bit,” Marie clapped her hands and gave Neuvillette a knowing look. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen for cakes?” 

The Melusines followed her outside, leaving Neuvillette and his wife alone in the parlor. 

“I apologize for their rowdiness,” Neuvillette said as he watched her gather the scattered paintings in her arms. “Please feel free to decline their requests if they inconvenience you.” 

“It’s no problem,” she said. “It was nice having so many people here. It reminds me of the old days. And I’ve never drawn Melusines before, so it was a fun challenge.” 

Neuvillette also stooped down to help her. He didn’t have the discerning eye for art, so he couldn’t make any comments as to technique, but he found that his wife’s paintings had a quality to them that made him yearn for something unidentifiable, which was what made them so fascinating to look at. 

“By the way, I finished your surprise,” she said. “Would you like to see it?” 

Neuvillette nodded, and she led him upstairs to her room. 

“It took me some time to work on it, because I had to use my imagination instead of drawing something I see,” she said, speaking a bit quickly. “And I wanted to use the paints you gave me carefully.” 

“Are they to your liking?” 

“Yes. The colors are so vibrant, and the brushes are so smooth, that I’m afraid that they are a bit wasted on me, since I don’t really paint because it’s my passion, so...” 

“But they are useful to you, are they not?” Neuvillette said. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“...I suppose so,” his wife said after a few moments of silence. She then cleared her throat and turned towards the covered easel near the window. “Here it is.” 

She lifted off the blanket, revealing a small canvas. At first, Neuvillette didn’t know what he was looking at. Then, his eyes recognized the amorphous blobs, the blurry line of blue in the distance. 

“This is a painting of the garden in rain,” he said, looking to her for confirmation. She nodded. 

“It hasn’t been raining at all recently, so I had to try hard to picture the scene in my mind.” 

“What made you choose this subject?” 

“Well...before, I’ve never really paid attention to the rain. It was just an excuse to stay home for me. But...then I would see you standing out in the rain, and I would suddenly notice all these things I haven’t seen before...so...” her voice trailed off, and she looked down. “I just wanted my first painting with your gift to be something you like.” 

Neuvillette felt an unfamiliar feeling in his heart. If he had to compare it to something, it would be feeling the heat of a warm current all around you after ages of swimming in the cold ocean.  

“Do you like it?” his wife asked, looking up at him. 

Neuvillette had to think about how to answer that. “...Yes, I do,” he said at last. “It’s my favorite of your works.” 

His hand reached out towards her head, his fingers running over her hair, gliding over her cheek, and rested on her shoulder. His wife stared at him quizzically. “Sir?” 

“...It’s nothing,” Neuvillette said. He wasn’t sure what came over him. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sedene’s voice sounded from downstairs. “We have a request for you!” 

“Sounds serious,” his wife quipped. 

The two went downstairs to the kitchen, where the Melusines were looking at paintings of houses with sunflowers standing in front of them. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, what do you think of planting sunflowers in front of the front door, just like in Madame’s hometown?” Sedene asked. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Neuvillette said. “One rarely sees sunflowers in the city.” 

“I can ask my family to send us some seeds,” his wife said. “But one thing I’m worried about is the lack of rain lately, since sunflowers need a lot of water to grow.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Neuvillette said, drawing a confused look from her. 

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

[ashleyfableblack]

A Mother's Day Eternal Courtship Jam. Love is complicated. Love takes work. For a Big Mama Bughorse with a family spanning several species it can take alot. A hard tale about love and family some may find all too familiar. TW in hashtags

"THERE'S my SPECIAL Boy..." Chrysalis beamed a grin of gleaming, razor-keen fangs at Pharynx as the guards shut the balcony bay doors behind them. She levitated a bunch of grapes from a nearby table of assorted dishes and goblets, offering them. "MY Pharynx. Come. Sit with me. Something to eat?" Pharynx politely refused with a reserved smile. "No, thank you, My Queen." Purple grapes. Very plump, ripe ones at that. He wasn't surprised that she knew his favorite fruit. Though he'd gotten to spend very little time with her since The Exodus of their people, he had little doubt that her agents were still hidden among his Lovebug kind. She likely knew more of their affairs than he did. Making his way to the heap of cushions she was lounging upon he climbed the pedestal and sat. "Happy Mother's Day." He gave a sheepish grin. After last years celebration he hadn't been sure what to expect from her. 'Mother's Day' wasn't a changeling concept. Every Day was Mothers Day as far as The Hive was concerned. His people's decision to adopt the pony holiday as a lovebug tradition was received awkwardly at best. But Chrysalis was a Queen and the Mother of her entire race and she was certainly making a go at it for her sons sake. She was looking healthy. No doubt she was eating very well. Her pony wife had made it very clear that she alone would give her wife all the love she needed. She had always been large, so tall, beautiful and majestic in an indefinable way, by changeling standards. But she seemed larger still, these days. Her chitin gleamed, dark and smoky. The pitting of her limbs seemed reduced. Her mane of spidersilk seemed more like the hair of a pony. Her shape even seemed different. Her plot, in particular seemed rather... round. He wondered if she was unconsciously adapting her form to suit her wife or maybe to fit more closely with their pony subjects? It was a common enough trait among changelings in deep-cover. Her eyes shifted between her two sets of irises as she looked him over, examining him both visually and taking note of his emotional state. "I trust your trip was well. Hmmn." She could see he was particularly troubled but spoke nothing of it. Decorum was to be observed. She was a Queen. "Where is your idiot brother?" Pharynx chuckled. "Heh. He got pulled into a discussion on some artsy-craftsy garbage about 'decorative baking' with one of Queen Twilights advisors. The bubble-headed pink one." "Ah." Chrysalis nodded. "That would be Pinkie-pie." "That's the one. Ugh." Pharynx shifted uneasily on the pile of assorted cushions and royal-blue throw rugs. Some creatures would say that all ponies looked alike. He knew this to be untrue. Though he was a lovebug he still had a changelings eye for fine detail. Ponies of any tribe were very distinct, visually. Their personalities on the other hoof, on that he could definitely see their point. They were all so cloying, so irritating. They all just blended into one big blur of annoying, bouncy, frivolous children to him. Tasty as food but still, annoying. "I told him to just go on with her and he could meet us later. Seemed just as well."

"Indeed." She pursed her lips, studying him. The Queen took a sip from an ornate silver goblet. "She has a way with most creatures, one I would imagine fitting your brother's demeanor all too well." Pharynx regarded the view. He could see why his Queen-Mother had chosen to make this balcony into a receiving area. From here, New Canterlot castle had an impressive view of the surrounding land. From the peaks of far-off Yak-Yakistan to the tides coming in off the Celestial Sea. This perch was as tactical as it was deceptively pleasant. She could plot out an entire campaign from here as easily as charm unassuming diplomats. He sighed. He missed those days as a changeling agent. Chrysalis broke his drift into the past with her sharp, multi-tonal Hive voice. "But you desired a private audience." It wasn't a question. She knew. "Yes." He cleared his throat, straightening himself. "Yes, My Queen." Her emerald snake eyes stared expectantly. Most of his life those eyes had been a place of comfort to him. She was his Queen-Mother, the source of all life for his people. However, in this moment, he would almost be anywhere else than in their gaze. Still, he had planned. He had prepared. This was the time and this was his moment. He was going through with this. "I wished to speak with you on a personal matter, My Queen." Chrysalis raised an eyebrow. "Pharynx, it's not like you to be so nervous. Speak." "I needed to-" he paused. His deep, gravelly voice cracking, he cleared his throat. He couldn't believe it but he was actually trying to recall Thorax's 5-5-5 rule for dealing with his anxiety. Or was it 3-3-3? UGH. He would have to punch him when he saw him next time- more than he usually did. "I needed to apologize... to you, My Queen."

Chrysalis furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?" She adjusted her irises to study the shimmering pattern of emotions emanating from her lovebug son. Guilt, radiated from him like smoke from a oil-fire, guilt, shame and a deep, black loathing. She craned her neck and drew slightly closer. "You've nothing to apologize for." Pharynx visibly shrank. The words and the feeling behind them hit him like fists. "Respectfully, My Queen-" his lavender eyes glanced to her "I feel I do." Pharynx sighed hard. It had been years in the build-up. He'd finally opened the door. Nothing to do for it now but walk through. "Mother... I failed My Hive. I failed our people. I failed myself. Most of all, I failed you." His lips pursed as her struggled to contain the breaking dam inside his chest. Chrysalis straightened herself. She narrowed her eyes, her intense gaze could cut through stone. Her ears flitted as she listened intently. "Continue." Pharynx stared into the floor. His eyes looked to the same past his voice spoke from, a time some decades ago now. He could almost see the timeline in front of them, the chain of events which led him to this moment. "Look after her." He paused. The word, the identifier, it stung his tongue to say it. "That's what you said to me. The first thing you ever said to me. Look after her. You ordered me to protect my idiot younger sister, my broken, faulty twin." Pharynx sighed. "She was born wrong. You knew it. I knew it. She wasn't like the rest of us. From the moment I crawled out from our egg and looked back at her, still wobbling around, she was silent in the hive-mind. Not a ghost, not a whisper, just nothing. But rather than just leave her to our sisters to be eliminated, you ordered me to protect her. You seemed to value her, maybe me as well, if by proxy." He looked into his hooves as if searching for the secrets of his past in them. "You didn't give us designations like our sisters. We were different. We got names. I would be Pharynx. She was Thorax." He bit his lip. The dam was stressed but holding. "I wanted you to be proud of me. My Queen. My Mother. So, I protected her, the idiot. The coward. The weakling. Our sisters knew she was born wrong and they hated her, wanted her gone, if not dead. She was not of The Hive. She smelled wrong, tasted wrong. None of us could hear her in the Hive Mind." Pharynx gritted his tiny nub fangs "But I protected her from them. I kept her safe. When they bullied her, I fought her fights. When she failed missions, I cleaned up her mess. When she betrayed us, ran away like the traitor she..." He paused, the words caught in his throat. The dam was cracking. "The traitor he was. I still obeyed. I kept the patrols from finding him. I guided any incidental seekers from his pathetically obvious hiding spots. I even masked the scent of his fear in the air- THAT took ingenuity. But All for you, My Queen. All for The Hive. I protected him even up until..'" Pharynx shuddered. He hesitated to even say the words. The name his changeling people had given to the day of their near-genocide. The day their home was destroyed and the lovebugs were born. "The Exodus. I could have stopped him. I could have stopped all of them. The cowards." He gritted his teeth, hooves clenched against his thighs like fists. "The ingrateful, treasonous scum. The filthy pony intruders, that stupid draconequis-thing, my traitorous brother. I could have stopped them but I didn't." Pharynx looked to his Mother, His Queen. He owed her the respect of looking her in the eyes when he said this. When he admitted to the price of his shame. "I had a choice to make. In that moment I had to choose. To be the perfect daughter for you like I always wanted to be..." The weight of his guilt was crushing. The dam was breaking. Held back for the last thirty years The edges of his eyes moistened. "Or be the... the worthless... Son... I always knew I had needed to be."

His shoulders shook with the pressure of containing the tears. Gritting his teeth he continued. "I hated him. He wasn't a Changeling. He wasn't one of us. I hated him for being weak. I hated him for being different. I hated his stupid smiling face. I hated his stupid feelings, his selfishness, his self-important, self-righteous- OH, he was SO much better than the rest of us, he was better than The whole HIVE. He was so special, like those stupid pathetic little ponies. But I-" Pharynx choked. "He... He was braver than me. He was Thorax. He was... your son. And I made my choice." His lips quivered. The hot stinging droplets formed. His vision blurred and he looked away, sending the tears to patter against the cushions. "I could've stopped him, Mother. I could've saved you from all that. I could've saved all our sisters. I should've stopped him. I wanted to. I... I wanted to be strong for you. I swear I did. I swear I- but I couldn't- had to- I had to be- Ff- Ff- Ph-" Years of self-loathing buried the rest in a mass of sobs as he pressed his face into his hooves. The dam was broken now. Pharynx was broken. His chitinous body convulsed as he wailed. Like a tiny foal, he shrieked, loosing out the tears of self-hatred he'd held deep inside for decades. The venom within him had rotted away, cold and black, like tar on his heart for years. Pouring out from his eyes now, it burned, searing like fire. His lips curled back, baring his tiny lovebug faux-fangs. They were not the fierce, dagger-like sabres of a changeling. He chattered them together, trying to finish his thoughts but all that came out was a gibbering, wailing mess. To his shock Chrysalis pulled him to her barrel. Without thinking, he threw his hooves around her, hissing his tears into his Mother's chitin in thick, painful sobs. Several minutes passed as years of hate poured forth, drenching her chest. Not as The Changeling Queen-Mother but as his Mother, she held him firm and steady. Several minutes passed as years melted away between them. Finally, enough of the pain drained off, Pharynx found his words again. "Mom? Do you... hate me?" Chrysalis stared back at him with her giant serpents eyes. In all these years, he had never called her that. No drone had. 'My Queen'. 'Majesty'. 'Excellency'. 'Queen-mother.' 'Perfect One'. 'Exalted One' 'Our Beloved Perfection.' Never 'Mom'. She considered the question in silence. Her horn glowed. In a small eruption of emerald flames a trinket appeared in Pharynx lap. Her multi-tonal voice cut through the tense silence between them. "Do you know what this is?" He looked to the trinket. A fine golden chain set around a series of opaque transparent flakes of shimmering, almost crystalline material, chitin from a changeling. As many times as he'd seen his alicorn mother-in-law wear it, of course he knew what it was. "This is the wedding token you gave to Queen Twilight." "And its significance?" He swiped away a bubble of snot with the back of his forelimb. "It's an ancient pony practice- unicorn, specifically, to give an expensive token of affection to a mate." She starred expectantly.

He expanded- "Adapted during the fusion of their 3 tribal cultures to include the Terrestrials... Err... colloquially, 'Earth Pony' tradition of an exchange of a family heirloom ... one holding a more personal value than one dependent on the unicorn system of material worth." Chrysalis nodded. A smile began to warm her lips. "And what is this?" "It's your token to your mate- Queen Twilight." The Queen gave a small huff of impatience, touching the article with her pitted hoof to accent each word. "What. Is. This?" Pharynx wasn't certain what his mother was asking him. He lifted the article carefully in his hoofs and examined it. He'd never actually seen it this close before. He could see now the small plates of chitin were quite old. He had always thought they were just tiny clippings his Mother had made from her wings, emulating the pegasus practice of giving their mate one of their primary feathers. But that couldn't be. They were far too old for that. Their translucent quality was caused not by their age, but by their structure. No only that, they were slightly curved and shaped irregularly, each slightly smaller than the last. They were fitted plates. "These are..." he straightened as the realization dawned on him, suddenly taking even greater care to be very gentle with the artifact in his grasp. "These are the plates of a grub's first molting." She nodded again, her smile growing to expose her fangs. "They're yours."

Chrysalis draped a hoof around his shell. Pharynx fought to find the words. "Mine? But... How? Mine? They're... How did y-" "Your idiot brother saved the discards of your first molting. Don't ask me how he secreted them away or where he hid them. None of your sisters ever knew." She looked from the tiny bracelet to the astonished Pharynx. He stared at the jewelry as if it were speaking to him in a foreign tongue. "I've never found the knowledge in the Hive Mind, anyways. " She gave a wistful sigh. "I remember. You had both just completed your nymph molt a few days before. He came to me, all puffed up and smiles, and presented me with a set of baubles he'd made. A necklace and a bracelet. He'd managed to cobble together the materials from one of our caches of acquired valuables. I'm still not sure how he learned the skills required to craft them, half-dumb as he was. Still, he did. A necklace from his own remnants..." She lifted the trinket in her green flames. "...and this, from yours." In an implosion of magic the matrimonial token vanished, teleported back to Twilight's dresser. Pharynx stared in silence. She'd held onto such a thing, all these years, in secret. With a gentle touch of his angular cheek, Chrysalis regarded him. "I gave this to Twilight, my immortal love, as an act of trust, to honor the ancient custom of her people. It was only a thing but it was my most precious of things. And if I could trust her with this thing I could trust her with my hearts." She stroked his cheek, drawing close. "I am your Queen. I designate you all with purpose." Her snakes eyes held him like a helpless little grub. "When you hatched, I knew it. You were never born wrong. But you were born different. You weren't like any of our kind, ever, more like..." She paused, catching herself as if to keep a secret. "Yes, I named you. I knew what you were, as I have all my children from the dawn of our kind. Your foolish, flighty brother, he was Thorax, 'my heart'. You..." She smiled in a warmth he had never seen from her before. "...you were stronger, fiercer stuff. Pharynx, 'my voice'." As she smiled down at him the tears came again. He didn't fight them this time. "I've never hated you. In all The Hive, I've thousands of drones. Infiltrators, Warriors..." She wiped at his cheek with her pitted hoof. "But I've only one Pharynx. One you. You are my son."

He returned her smile, wiping at his cheeks.

They sat in silence. Maybe for the first time in their lives, they were truly Mother and Son, as Pharynx would see it. "Any other questions?" She gave a playfully irreverent smirk. still draping a hoof over his shell. "Heh... Maybe... Another hug? My Q-" She cut him off, pulling him into her hooves and squeezing her son tightly. He embraced her in return. He could almost taste the love in the air around them. It was an unusual feeling, this warmth. Was this 'acceptance'? It was alien but certainly not unwelcome. If this was what Thorax was always going on about Pharynx could get used to this 'family' business. The balcony-bay doors creaked open. A guard broke the tender silence of their moment with her announcement. "My Queen. Prince Thorax awaits Her Grace." Chrysalis looked to the guard, then to Pharynx. He smirked, making to hop up. "I'm gonna go pound him." The Queen rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Don't pick on your brother." Pharynx sniffled and froze. He had an almost pouty quality to his silent obedience. She sighed in resolution. "Fine. You're brothers..." Pharynx leapt up with a burst of energy and sprinted for the door. From the halls Chrysalis could hear the sounds of things being broken and shouting of various slurs of endearment. She chuckled and took a large mouthful of the grapes, chomping them down hungrily with a smug, self-satisfied smile. "Best. Mom. EVER."

[arachnixe]

Only Dreaming

(Part 7 of The New Goddess - Previous: What Gods Demand)

In truth, I feel nothing toward Princess Canina, despite the effort I put into obtaining a position of service within the palace and the long years I labored to earn this position as her personal attendant.

I’m sure I’ve met her before while performing my duties, but in our brief encounters she has left me with no impression of her character that I can recall. Not that it matters. I am not here because I have any particular love of the royal family. I have a Plan, and that Plan requires me to earn the confidence of the princess.

“Wow. My first real servant.” She giggles with a giddiness that seems rather childish for a young woman her age, then clasps her hands in prayer. “Thank you, Goddess, for the blessings you bestow on me.”

Ugh. Another one of those extremely pious types, ready to thank their holy whatever for every breath they take. You’ll never catch me doing that.

“Do you… not believe in Goddess, Miss Velle?”

I curse internally. How amateurish of me to wear my feelings on my face. I fix myself, putting together an apologetic-enough smile and attempting to deflect the conversation. “Please, Your Grace, such address is unnecessary for your personal maid when it’s just the two of us. Just Velle will do.” Personal maid. Frankly my title should be—

Ah! A sudden blinding headache cuts that thought off abruptly, and I fail to stop myself from flinching away and clutching my head in my hands. What is wrong with me today? I am making a terrible first impression here and putting the Plan in jeopardy. I need to do damage control.

“My… apologies… Princess Canina.” The headache slowly fades, and I regain my grip on myself.

“Shh, it’s okay, Velle.” She wraps her arms around me in a strong hug that wildly violates my expectations of royal decorum. “You never have to apologize for getting headaches, no matter how bad they get, okay? It happens to me too, so I promise you’re talking to someone who understands.”

No, do not offer me pity, lest it inspire the same from me. Pity is a weakness. It inspires me to take unnecessary risks. I learned that the hard—

Another swell of pain forces me to divert from that thought.

“I will not allow my condition to interfere with my duties, Canina. I swear it.”

“Will you swear to Goddess?”

“I will swear it to you.”

“Hmm…” Her lips tighten in displeasure. “I think it would be best for you to not forget to address me with the proper courtesy, Velle.”

It was a mistake to interpret her over-familiar gesture as an invitation to reciprocate the omission of titles in private conversation. Or, just as likely, she really can’t handle any perceived disrespect toward her awful religion. In terms of winning her trust, I’ve managed one step forward and two steps back. I may have to re-evaluate the cost of my pride.

“Yes, Princess Canina. It won’t happen again.”

---

My sleep lately comes in fitful, short bursts punctuated in intervals by white-hot bursts of agony. The headaches torment me all night, and every time I close my eyes it feels like something is trying to come to life inside me. Whatever it is, it threatens to split my head open completely.

When sunrise mercifully arrives, I awaken to a bed drenched in sweat and have to concentrate to force my own hands to release their white-knuckle grip on my soaked sheets.

Thus dawns another day as my princess’s personal attendant and housemaid.

---

I’ve grown accustomed to the daily routine. After bringing Her Highness breakfast, I help her dress. She solicits my opinion on matters of aesthetic far more than I consider reasonable, but I like to believe I have an eye for style, if not quite the same aesthetic sensibilities as Princess Canina.

Though bashful at first, I am successful at getting her to relax around me over time. Flattery works well, and she practically melts when I encourage her vanity and suggest outfits that allow her to flaunt her figure. Not that her vanity needs much encouragement, as often as she distracts herself with lingering stares toward the grand mirror that dominates her room. Still, it’s a vice I approve of even if it means my main duties necessarily include cleaning her favorite mirror several times a day.

I accompany her on two of her three daily visits to the shrine where the princess makes her religious obeisances and mumbles prayers to the Great Whore In The Sky. I kneel with her, as she requires of me, but I keep my vitriolic prayers inside my head. The third time each day that she observes her prayers, it is a “private” religious rite, and I am grateful for the reprieve.

“Goddess bless you on this fine day, Madame Velle! Might I say that you look cute as always in that uniform of yours?”

I am content with the fact that most other servants of the house stay out of my way, but there is one lone exception.

“Jester.” I turn primly and glare daggers at the fool. “Every day I am disappointed anew to discover that you have not yet broken your neck performing one of those fanciful tumbles you favor.”

The thing before me offers a too-wide grin filled with teeth that would be more at home in an eel’s mouth than a person’s. Two of its arms clutch its chest as though heartbroken. Two more assist in its pantomime of a scandalized faint, the back of one hand to its forehead with another cast dramatically in the air.

“You wound me, Madame!” it cries out before cracking up in a fit of giggles.

Naturally, I am unamused. Once day I must find an opportunity to poison this awful creature. “Somehow I doubt you feel as insulted by my words as I do yours. I shall have to work harder until you find yourself wounded in truth.”

“You won’t believe me, but I do look forward to that day, my dear.”

I am fortunate that the princess finds amusement in my animosity toward her jester. If I had to feign politeness toward this thing, I might just be tempted to give up on the Plan altogether and quit the palace.

No, no. I would put up with quite a bit to see this through. My life’s work hinges on building a close relationship with Princess Canina. I would, however, prefer not to test my willpower unnecessarily.

“Jackie!” A shout from behind me interrupts our meaningless standoff. My Lady throws herself at the detestable jester, catching the creature in an overjoyed hug that strikes me as deeply excessive given they last ran into each other no more than five days ago.

“Thank the Goddess that She has seen fit to have our paths cross,” the thing replies with almost-human warmth. It lowers its voice as to speak privately with the princess, though not so low my ears fail to hear. “How is everything going, Nina?”

She murmurs something in response that I don’t make out, and all I catch from “Jackie” afterward is “…feathers at first for the whole bird theme, but then I changed my…”

The sheer familiarity between them is unnerving. Sharing pet names and secrets, the two wrapped in each other’s arms, one would be forgiven for assuming they have some sort of romantic connection despite the incongruity of the spectacle. As her hand falls to its thigh, even I begin to wonder if it’s not me who has the wrong idea.

“Your legs!” Princess Canina gasps, pulling away from their hug to examine the place she just touched. “They really aren’t leggings at all, but…?”

“That’s it! You found it. My most recent blessing from the Goddess! I decided to have my role as Jester carved into my body, and so She did!” The jester cavorts in a small circle. “Goddess, it hurt so much.”

Sure enough, casting a glance downward reveals that the diamond pattern on those legs are just its bare legs. Tattooed, maybe? No, the colors catch the light and reveal a certain glossy texture that resembles serpentine scales somehow. But if those aren’t pants, then… there really is nothing between the creature’s legs. Completely blank. I would be as fascinated as the princess running her hands along its body if not for my intense distaste for both this jester-thing and the goddess that so blesses it.

I look away, unable to stomach the scene any longer. I need only distance my mind from my surroundings and wait for the remainder of the day to pass, performing my duties with mechanical dispassion.

---

In dreams I watch myself laboring in an almost-familiar setting, casting glances toward myself in intermittent intervals. “Not ready yet,” I tell myself. A gesture from myself banishes me from sleep.

I awaken in pain as always.

---

“Why do you hate Goddess so?”

Canina seems unusually lost in thought this morning. Her moods can be unpredictable in the best of times, and I fear this may become an especially volatile day. Best to choose my words carefully, then.

“How much do you know of my life before I joined your household, Your Highness?” I know the answer, I just need a moment to think.

“Velle, I know nothing about you except that you once…” She stops herself abruptly. “I mean, you haven’t said much about yourself.”

What was she about to say? No, not important. How should I respond? Revealing some of myself judiciously might make for an opportunity to bond and build trust.

“I have had to learn self-sufficiency from a younger age than most, My Lady.” Lies are wonderful tools, but the closer one sticks to the truth, the easier one’s own stories are to remember. “Everything I have achieved for myself,” a headache threatens to derail me if I consider the details too closely, “I have had to strive most strenuously for.”

“Nobody ever helped you?”

“No. Many got in my way. I was hated for my intelligence, for my interests, for my gender, for my appearance. I had to fight tooth and nail for everything.“

Canina considers this for a moment. “Gender, yes, I know the king is… that way with women. But why would anyone hate you for being smart?”

“Ego, mostly. Adults hate to be outdone by a child. The old and wise cannot tolerate a novice who accomplishes what they have dismissed as impossible.” I exhale sharply as the pressure in my skull increases.

“Didn’t you have friends, though? Someone who was on your side?”

“Friends of a sort. There were plenty of people whose company I enjoyed now and then. Many of them offered help when I could have used it, but here’s something I learned at a young age: people love to offer help. It feels good to promise something nice. You get to feel like a good friend just for making the offer.”

“But you’re saying they lied.”

I bark a bitter laugh. “That’s the funny thing. I guarantee most of them didn’t think they were lying. They meant every word! Promises don’t give you those warm feelings unless you earnestly believe your own good intentions. It’s just that when it comes time to follow through, people realize they have higher priorities. Another lesson I learned: it’s a sign of a poor friend if you don’t forgive them for having better things to do than sticking to their commitments. A terrible cruelty it is to hold someone to their word.”

“So you don’t want to trust your fate to a higher power either. You have no more trust to offer.”

I grunt an affirmative through pain I fail to conceal. The princess notices.

“I’m sorry,” she offers in a quiet voice. “If those are Bad Memories for your headaches, we should change the subject. I think I understand you a little better, at least.”

I nod in gratitude and shove my own history to the back of my mind.

My Lady claps her hands together with a sudden, wide-eyed smile. “I have an idea! We should have a day all about you. And that’s not a promise for the future, we’ll do it today.“

“My Lady?”

Before I can object, Canina drags me to her ludicrous walk-in closet and tears through the racks in a frenzy. “No, no, not that one, maybe, maybe not, ah!”

With a tug, she extracts an elegant dress of shimmering black fabric and thrusts it toward me. “This one. It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?” I stammer in confusion, but before I can assemble a coherent response I see that she’s moved on, she’s somehow found an extra maid uniform and in the blink of an eye has donned the thing. “Today you get to be the lady, and I’ll play the role of maid. How’s that sound?”

It sounds like a violation of every courtly norm. It mocks royalty itself, spits on the court as an institution, and disgraces her title. It would drive the king mad if he found out, though he lives in another palace altogether. Yes, I can’t help but admit I love everything about this idea. Besides, anything that helps me grow closer to the princess serves my plans well.

Canina responds to my grin of approval with eagerness. “Now let’s get you dressed!”

Too late, I realize my error. She intends to help me change the way I do for her. “I would prefer privacy if I may, Princess Canina.”

“Nope! You’ve seen almost every part of me by now. It is both a maid’s duty and privilege to admire her lady’s figure while helping her dress. Now come here.”

Hardly a role reversal at all, I remain entirely at My Lady’s mercy, it would seem. With resignation, I brace for what must follow. My uniform comes off with suspiciously practiced motions, and before I have time to brace myself, I am exposed before a young woman who freezes in shock, staring at my body.

“Please let me explain—“

“You’re like me,” the princess whispers.

I startle. “I’m sorry?”

“You have a… man’s organ, like I once…”

“It’s not a man’s organ, it’s my organ.” Too firm. This could go badly very easily if I’m not extremely delicate. “And I promise you, My Lady, I am still a woman and still your maid.”

“No.” Her eyes well up with tears, and she embraces me in the same way she did after discovering we share the same headaches. “Not my maid.” She moves to take my hand in hers and places a dainty kiss on my fingers. “Today you are my Lady Velle.”

---

We visit the shrine. Of course we visit that damned shrine. Canina begged and pleaded until I agreed—which I did immediately because I know which of us is still truly in charge—and so we kneel as usual before the statue of the goddess she worships. Something about even that statue unsettles me, as though I ought to know more than I do about the figure it represents. Worse, by some trick of the light it feels like I catch it moving out of the corner of my eye. Of course, whenever I look directly at the thing, it remains the same as ever.

“Goddess, thank You for giving me Velle. She is absolutely perfect, and I know that You will only help her become more perfect once she accepts Your love. I pray for Your guidance to show me how I may lead her to Your holy light.”

I grit my teeth and endure. That Canina accepts me so readily is remarkably good fortune, and I will not throw such a stroke of luck away in a fit of petulance.

“Blessings of the Goddess to you both!” As we leave the shrine, we are accosted by that blasted creature again.

Yet before I can compose my retort, the princess speaks for me. “You will have to excuse us. My Lady does not approve of your antics, and it is my duty to dismiss you from her sight.”

The jester’s eyes flick between the two of us as it parses the role reversal on display. “But of course! Fool that I am, I would be more foolish yet if I displeased a woman of such high standing as Lady Velle. Worse, it would be terribly crass for me to deny a request from a maid as fine as yourself.” It winks at Canina, who breaks character with a giggle.

Content to have played its role in this game, the jester departs.

“Well done, Canina. You serve your lady well.” The princess blushes, wiggling her hips in obvious pleasure. I get the impression she’s enjoying this roleplay more than I am.

After this detour, however, I find myself at a loss for how to proceed. I’ve grown accustomed to the way my daily routine revolves around the princess’s whims, and I hardly know what to do with such leisure time. The most important thing at the moment is the Plan, but for that I need to continue building trust with Canina.

“As my housemaid, I would have you do something more for me.” She perks up, eager to be given an official task. “Plan something amusing we can do together.”

My play-maid’s eyes light up as though she were waiting for exactly this invitation. “With pleasure, My Lady. If you will follow me, I have just the idea.” With a spirited twirl that emphasizes the motion of her skirt, she leads me through palace hallways on a familiar journey back to her chambers.

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 5. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! Kissing, Dry humping, Sucking on my titties like you wanted me calling me all the time like Blondie check out my Chrissy behind it's fine all of the time.

Summary: It's the night of Slughorn's party and you're ready to make McLaggen jealous.

A/N: I said I wasn't gonna post til Sunday but I am too impulsive!!! Here is some recommended listening: Escapism by RAYE and Daylight by David Kushner (thank you anon for the latter recommendation). P.S. You can tell I'm not actually a Ravenclaw because my door riddle was SHIT lmao.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula

Chapter 5: Firewhisky

Two weeks later, you sit on the same spot on the edge of Marietta’s bed, this time lacing up your strappy stilettos. You point your wand at your feet. ‘Molliare’ you think, silently casting a cushioning charm so you can walk with ease in your heels.

Cho and Marietta join you as you walk over to the mirror, they stand behind you like proud parents.

“Stunning,” says Cho looking at you in the mirror.

“Yes, well, enough about the dress,” says Marietta, admiring her alterations. “Zacharias is going to feel like he’s won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Draw when he sees you.”

Ugh, you almost forgot about Smith. 

You admire yourself in the mirror and you have to admit- this is probably the best you’ve ever looked. Thanks to Marietta, your form-fitting cobalt blue dress seems to glow ethereally in the candlelight. She’s given you a high leg split and its generously low-cut bodice accentuates every curve of your body.

“Okay, toss your head forward and mess up your hair a wee bit,” says Cho. You flip your head down and back up and push your tousled hair behind your ear. “Perfect - it looks like you’ve just finished a very steamy snogging session.”

“Fuck, I’m nervous.” You reach out and hold both of their hands. “I wish you were coming.”

“Okay, Captain,” says Cho, imitating your most authoritative dressing-room voice. “What’s the game plan? Let’s go over positions.” Strangely, it helps your nerves.

“Meet Smith downstairs and arrive late. Don’t even look at McLaggen. Impress Gwenog. Still don’t look at McLaggen. Have a few drinks and hit the buffet-”

“Have one drink. No bread or you’ll burst out of that dress,” warns Marietta.

“One drink to stay reasonably sober,” you repeat, ignoring the last part. “Wait for McLaggen to approach me. Brush him off casually. Leave conspicuously and in an extra giggly fashion with Zacharias Smith then report back to you two in the common room.”

“Well remembered.”

“Shouldn’t I just snog Smith in front of him?”

“No!” says Marietta. 

“It’ll be way worse in his head if he doesn’t see you. Leave it to his imagination,” nods Cho knowledgeably.

God, dealing with boys was such hard work. You look at your two friends sincerely- they’re extremely skilled in this particular art of war. 

“Thank you- both of you. This was insanely hard work, I mean, this dress, Marietta…” You check yourself out in the mirror again. “It’s beautiful, really. I’m sorry if I’ve ever been sort of disparaging towards this stuff before. As if it’s any less worthwhile than Quidditch or school. It’s just… I’m not used to being bad at things.”

They understand. You don’t need to say any more as the three of you embrace in the middle of the dorm room.

“Right,” says Cho, wiping her eyes. “You’d better go before Zacharias thinks you’ve stood him up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slughorn’s office looks like a beautifully decadent circus tent. The walls are draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, contrasting with the striking blue of your dress.

You walk in, arm-in-arm with Smith who looks incredibly pleased with himself. When you met him earlier on the marble staircase he actually did a double take before saying your name questioningly, as if he didn’t believe it was you.

“Fuck off, Smith, I don’t look that different.”

“Ladylike as ever, I suppose,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes.

But now as you walk in, you keep your head high and smile at other students you recognise, as if you’re delighted to be here with Smith. Murmurs ripple through the crowd, as the two of you pass through- you hope it’s your dress that’s causing a commotion but you resign yourself to the fact that your classmates are probably just surprised to see you here with a boy.

Tactics, remember tactics. 

“Let’s get a drink,” you whisper, marching him towards a tower of champagne flutes. You grab one and drain it quickly, using the opportunity to discreetly scan the room for McLaggen. 

He’s across the room, determinedly talking to Hermione. You have a satisfied feeling that he’s trying not to look at you.

You dump your empty glass, grab another for courage, and link Smith’s arm again, steering him to try and find Slughorn but you don’t need to go far before you hear a booming voice calling your name.

“Professor Slughorn! Thank you for inviting me,” you respond graciously, pretending you aren’t starstruck by his companion, Gwenog Jones. “This is Zacharias, he’s captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.”

“Oh! I thought- ” says Slughorn looking from you to Smith and then off into the room behind you. “Ah, never mind. I’m an old man, who knows less and less about young love these days.” Slughorn chuckles and Smith gives you a questioning look which you ignore. “Anyway, allow me to introduce Miss Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog, this is the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, I mentioned earlier.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, shoving your drink into Smith’s hand and clasping hers when she reaches out to give you a handshake. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Old Sluggy’s been telling me all about you,” she says. 

“All good things, I hope?” You ask playfully of Slughorn who guffaws.

“Of course, of course!”

“I don’t suppose he mentioned our recent landslide victory against Slytherin?” You give her a winning smile, desperate to make a positive impression.

“He did… But I’m more interested in what he told me about your training.”

“My- my training?” you stumble - slightly surprised that Professor Slughorn knows anything about your training.

“I’ve told Miss Jones here all about you spending every evening on the pitch. I can see it from that window, you know.” He gestures to the window in the corner, obscured by the curtains. “You and McLaggen, practising for hours and hours and right in the middle of your N.E.W.Ts too… Oh, look, there he is!” Slughorn looks over your shoulder again and calls his name. “Not that you’d be interested in McLaggen for your all-female team, Gwen,” he chuckles. Slughorn spills a little champagne when he spots Harry Potter and practically runs over to join him, abandoning your group.

You bristle as McLaggen replaces Slughorn’s vacant space beside you. He shakes hands with Gwenog who, you remind yourself, he’s acquainted with already.

“As I was saying, Slughorn told me all about your win against Slytherin and while it piqued my interest, it was your work ethic that really got my attention. And he says you’re a keeper too?”

“A world-class one,” says McLaggen. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been snapped up by a professional team already.”

You blink at him in surprise. It’s very considerate of him to compliment you like that in front of Gwenog, even though you’re not speaking.

“And it’s you two who’ve been practising together every night?” she asks, noticing the look you give to McLaggen. “I mean, you’ve actually been training? Slughorn hasn’t been seeing you head off to the Quidditch pitch so you can snog privately or anything, has he?” She lets out a laugh like a bark.

“No! God, no,” you say quickly, and go to squeeze Smith’s arm but he’s already disappeared without you even noticing. 

“Absolutely not,” confirms McLaggen.

“Good,” she smiles. “Well, you’re not the usual build for a keeper, I must say. They usually look more like him - ha!” She nods at McLaggen. “But if you’re as good as he and Slughorn say you are, it sounds like I’d be stupid not to let you try out during the transfer window this summer.”

“That… that would be incredible. Thank you.” 

She bids you and McLaggen farewell and goes to mingle with the other guests. If you hadn’t fallen out with McLaggen, you’d grab him and jump up and down screaming for joy. Instead, you stand awkwardly, trying not to look at him.

Game plan, a small voice in your head reminds you but the champagne has loosened your sharp tongue.

“Well, you better not keep your girlfriend waiting,” you say, looking for Smith.

“Who told you that Hermione’s my girlfriend?”

“Hermione told Lavender who told Parvati who told Padma who told Cho who told me,” you rhyme off, trying to sound casual. 

“I thought you didn’t like gossip.” 

You shrug. “I just hear things.”

“Look, I know you don’t like her after what she did to Marietta-”

“Oh, is that what she said?”

“No, it’s what I know. I was in the D.A. with them too. You’re not the only one who hears things.”

Finally bringing yourself to look at him properly, you’re extremely annoyed to see that he looks incredibly handsome in his black shirt and dress robes. 

“So, have you snogged her?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

“What?!”

“Have you snogged her?” you repeat slowly and clearly, knowing full well he heard you the first time.

“I’ll go and snog her right now if you’re so concerned.”

“Go ahead. It should be easy, right? If she’s your girlfriend and not just here to make Ron Weasley jealous. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my date.”

He watches dumbfounded as you walk across the room to grab Smith aggressively and lead him by the hand out of the room. When you reach the corridor, you turn around and see that Smith looks like he can’t believe his luck.

“Oh,” you say, trying to think of a lie when you realise you really, definitely don’t want to snog him. “Sorry- I just wanted a bit of air. It’s so hot in there and my armpits are like, really sweaty.” You make up wildly.

Smith pulls a disgusted face and turns to go back in. “Wait!” you grab his arm and spin him back around. “Let me fix your hair.” You run your hand through it, messing it up slightly. “There, much better.”

He stares at you, stunned. “You are so weird.” He returns to the party and you groan, leaning against the indented archway in the wall and knocking your head back against it a few times in frustration. When you hear the click of high-heeled footsteps coming towards you, you flatten yourself inside the little cove so you’re not spotted alone. 

Hermione Granger whips past you without so much as a backwards look. You watch her as she walks as fast as she can in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She’s ditched McLaggen, you realise. You thought you’d feel ready to gloat but instead you just feel… empty. Until recently he was your friend after all.

Returning to the party, you’re not sure what to do with yourself. The game plan has gone out the window.

You want to do everything you can to avoid Zacharias Smith, and you really don’t want to be paraded in front of a vampire by Slughorn like Potter is right now. The only person you actually want to talk to is Cormac McLaggen but lately, all you’ve been able to do is argue, that is when you’re not sitting in sullen silence during Potions. 

You decide you’d better mix with some other students. You spend some time chatting with Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley who you recognise from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They congratulate you on your win against Slytherin, and you return the compliment but only out of obligation as both victories make your teams the closest rivals on the table, competing for the top spot. You excuse yourself and cross the room to get another drink but Professor Snape halts you in your tracks. 

“Detention,” he says simply. 

“Sir, I-”

“The first Saturday after the holidays. And I expect you to be more suitably dressed for the occasion.”

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. Any argument with Snape is likely to extend your detention to a week or even a month. More murmuring cascades around the room as he gestures to the door. It’s probably for the best, you think, that you leave before you drink any more. You got what you came for - an invite to the Holyhead Harpies tryouts. But you wish you’d just…

What do you wish?

That you’d made McLaggen jealous in the process? Or even just made up with him? Gone back to being friends. But could you ever swallow your pride and settle for being just friends? Surely that had to be better than whatever this feeling was right now.

Out of the hot room, the cool air hits you dizzyingly as you walk quickly along the corridor to the entrance hall. You see McLaggen ahead of you, near the front doors, in almost the exact same spot where you had your argument two weeks ago. 

Maybe being friends would be enough.

When he hears your footsteps he turns and groans “Oh, no. Not you.”

You catch up with him. “Always so disappointed to see me, McLaggen.”

“I’ve been chucked out. Snape gave me detention.”

“Me too,” you shrug. It’s not much of an olive branch but your instinct is to try and make him feel better. Misery loves company after all.

“You have?” He brightens up considerably. 

“He thought I wasn’t ‘suitably dressed’,” you say and his eyes follow your hands as you smooth the front of your satin dress. “What did you get chucked out for?”

“He caught me hiding behind the bar trying to drown my sorrows.” He pulls an entire bottle of Firewhisky from his cloak.

“Your sorrows?” 

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“And he didn’t confiscate the bottle?”

“I pretended that I was about to vomit on his shoes and he just threw me out without noticing I still had it.” 

Without warning you both burst out laughing. Your stomach hurts from laughing at the idea of Snape dragging McLaggen out at arm’s length, trying to avoid being vomited on.

“Well, no wonder he was in such a foul mood when he saw me. I mean detention, for wearing a dress?”

“Personally, I agree with Snape,” His gaze lingers on you again. “It’s very distracting.”

“Oh, shut up.” 

“Just don’t ask me what colour it is. I haven’t noticed.”

You hit his arm. This is nice - the playful banter, both of you not sulking for the first time in weeks. It feels almost… normal. Until, with a small jolt, you remember it’s not.

“Don’t be a pig, McLaggen. You have a girlfriend.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall. “We can’t stand each other.”

And there it is. The news you’d been secretly hoping for all night. The pit in your stomach feels much lighter.

“Where’s Smith anyway? He was looking pretty dishevelled when he came back from the corridor.”

You feel a pang of guilt. He’d noticed. And it doesn’t make you feel victorious in the way you’d thought it would. “I honestly couldn’t give a shit where he is.” He says nothing. You wonder if he’s been hoping for similar news too.

“Do you want some?” He asks eventually, shaking the bottle of Firewhisky and breaking the prolonged silence. You go to accept it but he says. “Not here - Snape and Filch will be prowling the corridors in a minute.”

“Quidditch stands?”

He nods and you exit the castle, walking side-by-side in the dark, down the path towards the pitch. It’s a frosty night and you feel your teeth chatter.

“Wait a sec.” He removes his heavy cloak and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells good. Like him. “Better?” You nod and take the bottle from him, so you can have a nip of Firewhisky. It burns your chest, spreading heat through your body.

The path ends when you get to the pitch and you feel your high heels sink into the grass. “Shit,” you hiss, freeing one of your stilettos.

“Right, up you get.” He stands in front of you and stoops slightly, so he can give you a piggyback. 

“You must be drunk if you think I’m letting you carry me.”

“Don’t argue for once in your life. Hurry up.”

You give him the bottle back before jumping up so he can carry you across the grass and underneath the stands. The familiar smell of amber and jasmine, this time mixed with Firewhisky and mud from the Quidditch pitch, reaches your nostrils. You resist the strong urge you have to lean into the crook of his neck and inhale.

He lets you off when you get to the wooden stairs. “Ladies first.”

“Remembered I’m not a bloke, have you?” you ask, walking up the stairs. Cho was right- he does always let you walk in front of him.

“If I thought you were a bloke, I wouldn’t constantly be staring at your arse.” He gives you a cocky grin. 

“Oh, well, by all means, carry on objectifying me then,” you say sarcastically and snatch the bottle from his hands before turning around quickly so he can’t see you smile. 

He follows you to the top of the stand where the pair of you sit, looking out onto the pitch and the snowy hills in the distance. 

“I’ve never noticed how beautiful it is up here,” you sigh. 

“Always been too busy watching the game?” 

You nod. 

“Same.” 

There’s still an awkward dark cloud hanging over your heads. You take another drink of Firewhisky and pass it back to him. 

“Right, out with it then.”

“What?” he asks.

“We can’t just act like the past couple of weeks haven’t happened.” Being brave, being vulnerable like this is something you’ve always found difficult and the bottle of liquid courage you and McLaggen are sharing doesn’t seem to be helping. 

You try to think of how to get the words out - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from spending more time with Cho and Marietta this year, it’s that it’s better to get this sort of thing out in the open. You take a deep breath, preparing for rejection but he beats you to the punch. 

“I’m an idiot.” He groans. “I just - I got it into my head that we’d go to the party together and you’d end up getting off with Gwenog Jones. So when Hermione asked me to go I jumped at the chance.”

“I don’t fancy Gwenog Jones-”

“-Then you turned up with Smith and that was even worse than what I imagined with Gwen.”

You draw his cloak around you and look at your shoes. “Well, I didn’t realise you had asked me to go to Slughorn’s party as friends.”

“I- I didn’t want to ask you as friends. Believe me. I thought I was kidding myself that you might be into me… everyone said I was stupid to even ask you.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“Belby-“

“Belby?!” You scowl. That moron. “Who else?” You demand.

“Well I’m not gonna say now, am I?” McLaggen laughs. “I can tell Belby’s about to regret it.”

Your face cracks into a smile. The aggression bubbling up in your chest evaporates into the frosty night air. His laugh gives you a new perspective - it’s as if you can step back from the scene and can see how daft it is to get so bothered by someone like Marcus Belby.

You look up at his face in the cold moonlight. Butterflies squirm in your stomach. He’s so distractingly good-looking - you can’t think properly when it’s just you and him like this. No quaffle or cauldron to divert your attention or give you a reason not to look at him for too long. 

“To be honest, I sort of thought Belby was right after all because you didn’t seem that keen when I asked you.”

“I hesitated because you make me nervous, Cormac,” you say softly, determined not to look away. It’s like looking into the sun.

“Yeah?” He’s still looking into your eyes but he feels closer now. 

“Don’t pretend you haven’t figured out by now that I like boys too.” You look from his eyes to his lips. “Well, not boys. Just… just one.”

His mouth is inches from yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. “If you say Smith, I’ll kill him.”

And there it is. You’re not sure whether it’s his possessiveness or the fact you’d really like to watch him hit Smith but something about that sentence makes you feral for him. You press your mouth against his, the burning taste of Firewhisky on both your lips. 

He kisses you back fiercely. It’s harder and rougher than the soft kisses you’ve experienced before but you like it. It means you can kiss him back the way you want to - you know he can handle it. You bite hard on his bottom lip in silent admonishment for what he’s put you through. And Cormac returns the favour, his hand roughly gripping the part of your thigh exposed by your dress. You wonder if he knows it’s for him. The absence of fabric - created for the sole purpose of seeking his attention.

You bring your arms behind his neck, pressing your body as close to him as you can and the Firewhisky falls from the bench and rolls on the floor, forgotten. He moves his hand under your thigh and drags you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. Your lips meet again, crashing into each other and his tongue intrudes into your mouth, rolling over yours. You want to feel his mouth everywhere.

As if reading your mind, his lips leave yours to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. You lean back so he can draw his tongue along your collarbone and bury his face in your chest. Cormac’s strong hands grip your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing bruises into your hipbones without any indication of slowing down or showing restraint. 

From this position, you can feel his erection pressing into you. It’s the first time you’ve kissed a man like this but your body responds almost automatically, sending your hips grinding into him. The night air is below freezing but your skin feels burning hot between the weight of his cloak and the warmth of his body.

The difference in size and strength between you sends wild thoughts flashing through your mind of him pinning you down against the bench and savagely taking you there.

You run your fingers through his dark blonde hair, pushing his face into your cleavage in encouragement, feeling his hot tongue and rough chin against your chest as you grind yourself against him harder. The now hot and damp fabric of your underwear rubs against the hard bulge between your bodies, creating friction more electric than the one that’s been between you the past few weeks.

“Fuck…” he moans into your chest softly.

All evidence so far has pointed to Cormac being an ass man but you’re not so sure any more as he continues his vocal appreciation, licking and sucking your tits right here on the deserted stands.

Cormac’s hands move up from your hips to push your breasts together and he whines when one of your nipples peeks out over the top of your dress. He latches onto the small nub of skin and sucks, swirling his tongue around your nipple. 

“Cormac, fuck, that’s-”

But just what it is, is interrupted by the anguished moan of pleasure that leaves your lips when his teeth graze your sensitive skin. It echoes across the deserted pitch into the night. A noise that would be indiscernible in the usually busy stadium. Unable to take it anymore you push his chest back and stare into his eyes, breathing heavily. 

“We shouldn’t… we should go back to the castle,” you pant.

“Shouldn’t what?” He raises his eyebrows with a smirk, his slightly wet chin glistening in the dim moonlight. “I haven’t suggested anything.”

“I was talking to myself.”

He grins and helps you off of him so you can fix your dress. “Well, that was easily the best thing that’s happened to me in this stadium,” he says, adjusting himself too.

“Ah, maybe you’ll get a game one day,” you tease and cup his face, just so you can feel his stubbly chin against your palm again.  

He kisses your palm before taking your hand in his so you can walk back down the steps to the pitch together. When you get to the grass he insists on carrying you again but this time refuses to put you back down until you reach the castle steps. 

From a tower high above, Horace Slughorn looks out of the window of his now-empty office. The party has long finished. He chuckles to himself when he sees the silhouette of McLaggen emerging from the darkness, carrying you on his back towards the entrance hall, illuminated by the castle torches.

When you climb off him and make it to the top of the marble staircase, you kiss him goodbye one final time. This is the last time you’ll see him before you go home for the Christmas holidays tomorrow. You turn and leave for Ravenclaw Tower, while he goes off in the opposite direction to Gryffindor. 

“I can skip, I can be broken, I can burst, I can sing. What am I?” asks the bronze eagle knocker on the door. “A heart,” you say, ripping off your heels impatiently, waiting for the door to swing open. You need to wake up Cho and Marietta - you promised you’d tell them everything.

Chapter 6: First Name Basis

[raccoonfallsharder]

from your fic writer asks reblog, 4. 13, 15

YAY thank you nonnie ♡♡ these are such good picks because I love to gas up other writers. I'm honestly so thankful for the fanfiction community as a whole and for the rocket♡community in particular.

you all know i'm too fuckin wordy so i've cut this for your sanity

4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why?

So I feel like a lot of the fic writers I currently admire are in this circle.

@aliasrocket has the ability to blend absolute crudeness with this undercurrent of yearning that is peak Rocket, and literally everything I've read by them is like...too hot. I also think they're a goddamn pillar of the community

@elegant-fleuret writes a perfect Rocket. if i didn't know better i'd think he got stuck at her place for like the first six months of quarantine and now she knows exactly how his brain works whether she likes it or not (either way i benefit because the writing is so good and hot). her writing is also so CLEAN (not like - i mean it's filthy as hell but i don't think i've ever seen a typo or an error and it's always so polished and i??? always?? have a misplaced punctuation mark or a bad autocorrect SOMEWHERE)

@evolvingchaoswitch writes with incredible vulnerability and (again) everything is so fuckin sexy.

i could go on??

One of the fic writers outside of this community (she writes mostly hellcheer for Stranger Things) is @staceymcgillicuddy and in addition to writing just the smoothest content I've ever read (seriously, every word goes down easy), she's like...so consistent. I'm so impressed by her ability to write and share REGULARLY.

13. Favorite fic from another author?

Choosing is so, so, so hard.

i think my very favorite from this fandom (so far) is probably A Very Basic Instinct by @elegant-fleuret. you've all absolutely read this because it's like - such a perfect bite of rocketsmut. and i mean if you haven't then leave this post immediately and go read it stat. ugh

I love last (friday) night by @aliasrocket/(subject) 89P13 . it's just such a good beginning. there's heat, humor, angst. love it.

i also love and need more of @lazarel-3000's The All of You. the oc Juno is so interesting and I really want to dig into her backstory and learn everything about her, and i cannot WAIT to see how things unfold between her and my best raccoon boy

outside of the erocketa community I read a lot of hellcheer (stranger things) and some other fandoms. currently topping the list of faves is a very smutty oneshot called throw your jacket on the floor and a very sexy little fic called In a Sentimental Mood. oh and i wanna be your sin, i wanna be your preacher. and PURE bubblegum fluff i have reread like 27 times because it's just so cute: Poprocks.

15. Your guilty writing pleasure?

what is a guilty writing pleasure? is that like - something i do while writing that i feel like i shouldn't (like stay up writing on my phone till 3am when I gotta wake up at 6am, or forgetting to drink water? because i assure you neither of those are pleasures) or something i write about that i feel like i shouldn't?

look life is too short to have guilty pleasures. i embrace my pleasures wholeheartedly. if anyone tries to make you feel guilty for indulging in a pleasure that harms no-one, set yourself free of them.

my adoration for writing (and reading) light d/s rocketsmut with a big ol' dash of praise-kink is probably the thing i am most selective about sharing with other people but it's less about guilt and more about, like, not needing to subject everyone to my kinks + also not knowing who might be a repressed judgy weirdo.

okay i came back to this after thinking about it more, because i didn't want to feel like i was copping out on you. the only thing that i'm a little self-conscious about sometimes is how much of myself i put into OCs. so, a little personal: the first five visits of sweatshirt girl was 100000% about me dealing with like, the very traumatic loss of my first (very young) kitten to a deadly disease that wasn't responding to medication + my second (very young) kitten developing major health issues all in the course of the preceding 10 months. jolie's got a lot of hang-ups that make up my core personality and once i get around to writing Other Duties As Assigned, that OC will also get a nice little dollop of my 2023 work-related trauma. yo it's been a rough fuckin year and what better way to work that out than through erocketa amirite. just some healthy mutual consolation & absolute filth shared with a sad raccoon

(and therapy. i'm also in therapy. and medicated. both are great and you should try them if you're thinking about it and have the means)

[muqingapologist]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

this is such a hard question because i’ve gone through so many phases of obsessing over pieces of media in my life, and sometimes it’s really hard for me to parse which characters are lasting favorites and which are just part of that phase. but i’ll try! keep in mind, lots of sentimentality ahead…

and this is in no particular order.

1. wei wuxian (the untamed)

ok so this kind of goes along with a previous post i made discussing my feelings of the mdzs book vs. the untamed. when i first watched the untamed at the recommendation of a friend, it was so unlike anything i’d ever seen before. and wei wuxian was so unlike any protagonist i’d ever encountered before. his determination to do what’s right no matter what others do, but also not being above experiencing doubt and uncertainty about his decisions, really touched me. also of course his carefree attitude toward life is something i repeatedly try and fail to achieve myself. it might also have to do with xiao zhan’s acting choices, but he really touched me as a character. it’s hard for me to say if the wwx of the book did the same organically because i read it over a long period of time after watching the show, so im just going to count the untamed version.

2. shizuku tsukishima (whisper of the heart)

this one is probably pretty niche but allow me to give my most heartfelt recommendation of whisper of the heart, my favorite ghibli movie and one of my favorite films of all time. shizuku is the protagonist of the film. she’s a young girl, probably about 14, and so far, her life has been defined by satisfying her imagination by always reading fiction, immersing herself in stories. inspired by the love interest of the film seiji, she decides she wants to try to be a writer. the film is kind of like a slice of life over a few months of this time, and we see shizuku struggle with perfectionism and wanting to follow her dreams and inability to take criticism, etc. i rarely cry over movies but i cried at this one because i had just never felt so seen by a character. everyone please watch whisper of the heart!🙏

3. prince zuko (avatar: the last airbender)

i think 50% of the reason he’s on here is sentimentality since avatar was a show i watched so much throughout my childhood and of course again more recently with its resurgence in popularity, but also what can i say? his character arc is unmatched. i won’t rehash the details. i will say uncle iroh would probably be here instead if we knew any more about his past because he’s off-screen journey is just so fascinating to me.

4. percy jackson (percy jackson & the 12 olympians)

PURE sentimentality but ya know….also im only considering this character how he exists in the original series. he kind of lost me in heroes of olympus. but yeah percy jackson was the first character that really impacted me back when i was 9, and i think i still carry that impact to this day. i also think the original series still holds up reading it as an adult.

5. kim wexler (better call saul)

kim nation!!! reveal yourselves!! i watched better call saul a little over a year ago and damn, it’s so rare to find such interesting, well-developed, flawed within reason female characters in a tv drama like this. her intelligence and her tendency to get carried away with jimmy don’t contradict each other but work together. her emotional journey….UGH!! kim x post-prison jimmy, who else hopes?

6. xie lian (tgcf/heaven official’s blessing)

so this one is new and i’m not completely sure the deep impression will last yet, but i’ll explain. when i first read tgcf about two years ago, i kind of skimmed because it was so long, and the feelings i had toward xie lian were…not super favorable. i was kind of bored by him and….i saw him as a lesser wei wuxian. AND I WAS WRONG!!! because i reread tgcf finally a couple of months ago, no skimming, really thinking about what i was reading and now i love him. his journey from optimistic prince who had never before suffered to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders to nearly collapsing under that weight but despite all odds, pulling through and once again finding that optimism, or at least hope. it touched me so much this time around!!! also i don’t know why i thought he was boring first time around. this guy is funny as hell! anyway, lots of lessons to apply to my own life and whatnot.

7. ninth doctor (doctor who)

guys….hear me out. notice im not saying “the doctor” because i think most of doctor who is just nonsense. but that one season with the ninth doctor (and okay i like the tenth doctor’s seasons well enough, or i did really love them. less so these days…). so much potential. so when i say he’s one of my favorite characters ever, i accept that it’s mostly the version of the doctor that lives in my head and isn’t subject to the bad writing decisions made later in the show. it’s a lot of sentimentality, but i am really fascinated by this traumatized alien guy who just lost his entire people, finding himself devolving into more violent, unforgiving tendencies, but meeting rose, jack, whoever else along the way is able to remind him of not who he was but who he could be. of course doctor who is forever ongoing though so character development can only go too far lol.

8. nozue (old-fashioned cupcake)

this is also brand new so not sure if lasting because i only just read and watched ofc, but man. this guy’s journey from being defeatist about getting older and turning 40, being afraid of trying anything new, to allowing himself to experience new things, one of those things being falling in love! his whole concept of using regret as fuel for happiness, transmitting that idea to togawa who transmits it back to nozue later!! ahhh!! so like my love for this character might actually just be love for the entire story but i can’t not mention it every five seconds rn so….

9. isabel archer (portrait of a lady)

so this is the protagonist of henry james’s portrait of a lady, which i finally finished reading last month. and gosh! well the book itself was amazing, but i was especially touched by isabel’s character, mainly because she just felt so realistic. her motivations, her goals, her shift, her sorrows, they all feel earned, creating an incredibly vivid character that i think most people can find something in there to relate to, especially other women who have always been told they are clever and imaginative and yet find themselves struggling internally to live up to those expectations.

10. natasha rostova (war and peace)

it’s been years since i read war and peace in my university freshman seminar, so it’s hard for me to speak on the details of why exactly this character is here. but also it’s no surprise because this is a character that continues to be the star of russian literature. what i can say, she’s another bright, carefree character (clearly symbolizing aspects of russian culture but even beyond that) who it’s impossible not to feel deeply connected to. she goes through some pretty life-altering stuff in war and peace (everyone listen to the musical called natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812 for those details!!) and as the reader, you just really feel for her. idk man she still stands out in my mind, but also this is also much thanks to the musical i just mentioned above.

i kind of came up with these on the spot so like…who knows how accurate this is, but i like to talk about the things i like so sue me. thank you for the question though!!

[fancy-a-dance-brigadier]

BEN SISKO PLS

Benjamin Sisko? More like Beloved Sisko 😌

One aspect about them I love: I love the capital P Presence he brings to every scene. He’s such a force of nature! Of course there are the obvious examples like ‘In the Pale Moonlight’ and ‘Far Beyond the Stars’, where his presence is literally jaw dropping, but I think he brings such a monumental force to even the softer scenes. Force might be the wrong word, but I’m thinking about all his quiet moments with Jake, his tender moments with Kasidy, his grief when he’s in New Orleans after Jadzia’s death. You can feel every inch of what he’s feeling, all the love and passion and rage. This is more of a comment on Avery Brooks than Sisko I suppose, but he’s easily the actor that impresses me the most in any Star Trek show. He’s such a privilege to watch.

One aspect I wish more people understood about them: That he likes to have fun! I often see him cast in fandom as the stern father figure to his crew (which is a whole other kettle of fish) or people exclusively highlighting his actions in the Dominion War. But Ben is capable of goofing off just as much as anyone else! His delightful love of baseball is the obvious example, but there’s also the episode where he built the Bajoran lightship and flew it with Jake, or all the crazy stories of his youth with Curzon, or when we see him interacting with Jennifer for the first time. And while he opposed the Vic Fontaine holosuite (for very valid reasons), I got the impression that he did end up enjoying himself a teensy bit during that casino heist.

One or more headcanons I have about this character: His favourite musician is Nat King Cole. Joseph would always have his music playing while cooking, so Ben has a lot of fond memories growing up and listening to those songs. And he probably started learning to play the piano by trying to play them by ear.

One character I love seeing them interact with: This is so hard to choose! His interactions with pretty much everyone on the show are so rich, but I think I’ll have to say Kira for this one. The captain and first officer dynamic is always an interesting one (unless it’s TNG sorry not sorry), but the fact of Sisko being the Emissary adds so many layers. Of course there are the jokes about Kira’s boss being space Jesus, but I really do think they have one of the best relationships in the show. Two scenes in particular come to mind - in the episode ‘Starship Down’ when Ben’s injured and Kira’s trying to see him through it, and I can’t remember the episode, but the scene where Ben invites her to a baseball game. Very different scenes, but I think they do a lot to convey how much they care for each other no matter the situation. But then they’re also trying to work through the complex web of worship and every day interactions and station hierarchy and friendship and ugh it’s just so good!! It’s so good.

One character I wish they would interact with more: Jennifer Sisko. I don’t mean interact as in bringing her back from the dead, or having mirror!Jennifer play a bigger role (which would be kinda cool honestly), but rather I wish we’d got to hear more stories about their past interactions. Ben’s grief over her death is literally what kicks off the entire show, and I feel like we should really know more about her since she had such a strong connection to the main character of the show. I find it very difficult to believe that Ben wouldn’t talk about her more to keep her memory alive. I want to know what kind of dates she and Ben would go on, the little idiosyncrasies Ben loved most about her, the things she’d do that would annoy and charm him all at once, and the moments where he was most proud to love her.

One or more headcanons I have that involve them and one other character: He’s in love with Julian Bashir ❤️💙 I’m sorry, I can’t help it - Siskoshir is just too powerful of a ship to go without at least mentioning. I saw that one scene in ‘Past Tense’ when Ben brings Julian breakfast and that was it, no thoughts only Siskoshir. I think I find that ship so compelling because, even though they appear outwardly quite different, on the inside they’re birds of a feather. They’re both so passionate about the people around them, they’re both dedicated to their careers, and they’re both strong enough to survive immense the trauma that’s impacted them throughout their lives. But then there’s also what they can give to each other - Julian can help bring Ben out of his grief with his relentless brightness and optimism, and Ben can offer Julian the warmth of familial love that he felt like he’d lost once he discovered his augments. Basically, they’re the best I think they should kiss 😌

[foggyparadisecandy]

On Making a List for Living

As I've been moving ahead, cleaning up my shit inside my head, I made a list of things that fill me with joy and happiness.

Mostly to keep me busy and moving forward AND to help me improve my self-image.

NGL, at first, it was a struggle to start doing them. I was just so lost and depressed, living in the void that was left behind from my ex, yes, but also, the deeper void left behind by my parents dysfunctional shit they put inside my head.

But ... I made my list. I set my goals.

And each day, it gets easier and easier. And I'm honestly starting to feel better about myself - my present self and my wounded child.

The other day, I posted a one month summary of my progress and ... yeah ... I was surprised to see that I'm honestly crushing it. I felt like I was still moving in quicksand.

Maybe I set my goals too low? lol

Also true: I have to work it aggressively still.

I will catch myself being mean-spirited towards myself. I pause and course-correct when I do. Learning to be kind to yourself is ... surpisingly hard for many of us.

And I struggle with over-stepping boundaries. Boy is this a problem for me.

I've spent my life getting outside validation. So I have a burning desire to offer advice and help and guidance but ... I'm doing my best to correct this too.

It's grueling. I fall into agony trying to figure out ... is this kind? is it welcome? is it useful? is it necessary? Usually the answers are: maybe, not unless asked for, maybe, no.

With my ex in particular, it's so hard. Because ... I legitimately am impressed by her and can see her own growth. I believe in her more now than I ever did. She's going to be fine - I know that.

But *sad lol* ... I have this desire to nurture her and care for her. And give her advice and express concerns if I see them.

It's so ... frustrating. But I'm doing my best to learn about boundaries, set them for myself, and respect others. I ... want her to know how much I care for her and am there for her ... but I don't want to fall into unhealthy habits or make her think I feel I am there to "fix" her.

I struggle with "how do I show someone I care for them and accept them?" My go to method is "helping" them. But unsolicited helping and accepting are two completely different directions.

So ... what's the fucking answer? Ugh. It would be nice to know how "normal" people think. I guess the answer is ... just showing up. Showing that I'm interested. Showing that I appreciate her for who she is. I accept her. I understand her.

And ... honestly ... I do understand her a hell of a lot better these days than before. I have ... deeper empathy for her and her own struggles as I've learned to look inwards at my struggles.

I can see the progress she has made. She is inspiring in so many ways. Makes me want to fix my own shit even faster lol.

None of it is easy. But it's getting easier.

So yes ... I encourage anyone who is looking to become more secure and self-confident, happy with themselves, to make a list, work the list, check in with yourself and assess progress, and give it time.

The anxiety in my mind is slowly quieting and I'm feeling better about my life and who I am. I find I no longer need the external validation as much.

The odd thing is ... now that I'm feeling better about myself, I also feel like I see others in a more realistic, full light.

It's so ... bizarre to say it but ... I like her better these days than I did before. I feel like I was objectifying her before. Yes ... I knew she was a living breathing person but ... I had her on a pedestal. It wasn't realistic or healthy for either of us.

So it's funny to recognize that my "like" for her has grown while my insane love has diminished.

And my "like" for my friends is also growing. I'm seeing the world in new lights.

I have a good friend on Discord who has been out of touch. It makes my anxious mind go brrrrrrrrr even though she said she was going to be super busy. I heard her ... but ... my anxiety kicks in and plagues me with so much nonsense and doubts and feelings of "I'm a fuck up."

Obviously I am still a work in progress. I take deep breaths, I walk through my Pride Journal to build self-confidence, I remember that people can and will speak up when they are ready, and other people's choices are not in my control.

I am me regardless of whether or not other people accept or reject me.

It's probably so obvious to most of you.

It's a silly thing to have to say ... even sillier to have to learn that you lived a life without understanding that basic concept.

Oh well. Learning and growing. Fast as I can.

[nimbasa-librarian]

Chance Encounter - Or Is It?

“Excuse me?” 

Anya looked away from the bookshelf she was restocking, looking slightly down at a woman she’d never seen at the library before. 

The woman was tall - though not as tall as Anya - with expressive, gray eyes, but a completely neutral expression otherwise. She was dressed in a long, red coat, with a contrasting blue, wool hat that had a button with a familiar symbol pinned to it.

Ugh. Anya wasn’t a big fan of the “Help people” part of her Master Librarian job. But her expression remained calm as she greeted the woman. “Yes? Can I help ye, miss?” 

“Perhaps you can.” The woman nodded “I am looking for a book about the subway - one in specific.” 

Anya’s eyes fell on the button on the woman’s hat, before looking back at the woman, though pointedly not in her eyes. “the battle subway?” 

“Ah. Yes. Please” She nodded.

“There’s a limited selection” Anya started, putting a book on the shelf with one hand “but there are a few of ‘em” 

“Could you please show me?” 

Anya seemed to take a moment to process her request, before nodding, taking a second to put away the last book.

“Please lead the way” The woman stiffly motioned with a move of her hand

Anya nodded again, before motioning to the yamasks floating just above them, and directing them out of the aisle. Anya walked out and down the hall, attempting to take slower steps so she wasn't leaving the woman behind, though she kept up quite easily

“Do you know of the Battle Subway?” The woman asked

Oh no. Small talk. At least it was a topic Anya had some experience with. 

“Ah do” Anya nodded “I’ve a friend or two tha’ works ‘em. I’s quite impressive, really” 

“Ah, truly? That is wonderful. What do you know of?” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you know of the Battle Subway?”

And that question was enough to get Anya talking. 

Anya’s starting point was a seeming word-for-word reciting of Ingo’s explanation of the mechanics of the subway. From the reinforced rails to the shock absorbers on the wheels. As the two walked down another hall, one of the yamasks (Galarian) pointed down a particular aisle. 

Anya didn’t even notice the very subtle change in the woman's expression. A spark of recognition in her eyes. 

“And the station itself is -” 

“Yama!”

“Huh?” 

“Yama” 

“AH… Yes” She suddenly looked a bit sheepish “Here ‘re the books” Anya instructed, grabbing two books with hard covers “These are specifically ‘bout the battle subway. Quite recent” 

“They look perfect” the woman took them “Thank you very much for all of that information. It was quite interesting” 

“Oh uhm… yr very welcome, ma’am” 

The woman smiled - it seemed a little awkward for her

Anya just nodded. “D’ya need me t’check ye out?”

“If you could, please?” 

Anya led the way back to the center desk, and took the woman’s Unovan ID 

“Miss Wagner?” 

“That is me” 

Huh. That was Ingo and Emmet’s last name. Anya said nothing of it 

“As a citizen of unova, you can return these books t’any library, ma’am” Anya instructed “Please have them returned in two weeks” 

“I shall. Thank you very so much for your time and knowledge” 

“Y’r very welcome, ma’am” Anya managed a smile for the woman 

“Oh, don’t go doing that now” 

“Huh?” 

“Don’t go forcing a smile like that. My boy used to do the same thing, as did I” Ms Wagner gently stated “Don’t feel such a need to make yourself. I can see in your eyes that you are content. Your mouth need not mirror” 

Anya just stared at the woman with a confused expression, like her hand was caught in the cookie jar. 

Miss Wagner just gave her a more genuine smile “Have a good day” 

“Ah… uhm.. Y’too, Miss Wagner” 

And the woman left on swift foot with her books

Anya stood at the desk for a few more seconds before getting a nudge from Daniel 

“Huh?” 

“Yama?” 

“Oh, sorreh Daniel. Jus’... never been read so quickly by a stranger” She admitted “Le’s ge’ back down t’the archives. I’ve had mah fill of people today” 

The two Yamasks seemed to agree with the sentiment, beating her to the stairwell with some urgency. 

It was only later, after getting home and scrolling through PokeBook that she saw three familiar faces in a photo - with the subtitle “The Wagner’s back together again!” on Emmet’s page. 

She blinked at the woman between them. 

…. Of course. Of course that was their mother. 

All Anya did was like the photo, before grabbing her remote and turning on the TV 

-

Featuring “Maggie” - created by @that1nkyone :)

[apoapsis]

@femtaile said, ❛  you still have doubts about it.  ❜

              There's something so intrinsically wrong with this– but it's as if he's the only one who sees it, and he couldn't fathom how to elaborate as to what, fundamentally, made it so wrong.

He should be more grateful, being granted the permission to orchestrate his grief upon society en masse– just as he and SIEBREN had obsessed and fantasized for years over. Worse yet, it felt so good, malling flesh and steel as if they were paper mache, basking in the collective terror of any whom his shadow cast upon. How, exactly, did one explain the finer nuances of what was so unpleasant about this when he repeatedly allowed his self-restraint to fall victim to his own gluttonous desire for violence?

If anyone was sick here– it really was him, wasn’t it…?

Maybe that’s what makes him so unpopular with his coworkers; perhaps they thought him to possess some inflated sense of moral superiority– only to watch him turn and maul any object placed within his teeth. It seemed difficult to like someone who continuously claimed to desire their approval, yet balked at every opportunity to earn said favor. In reality, SIGMA is just as frustrated as the rest of them, at the amount of intervention required exclusively to ensure the mission concludes successfully. To anyone else, it would be no surprise– what more did TALON expect from placing someone so inexperienced in his classification? It’s humiliating that SIGMA had allowed his opponent any chance to recover whatsoever, let alone that Widowmaker had had to step in to dispatch his target for him. Again.

In reality, the trip to the cabaret had been purely of his own volition– something mundane, to try and quiet the static frequencies interrupting cohesive thought and cognitive function. In fact, SIGMA had been quite convinced that he wouldn’t see the Widowmaker there; after all, while she didn’t follow any particular routine in regards to venturing out there, there were always patterns in her behavior, if he was patient enough for them to eventually, inevitably, present themselves. Unusual of him to utilize it to avoid her, in fact, he often hyperfixated upon it to better familiarize himself to her– but he’s still bothered. Upset. Angry.

Hard to determine if the anger was self-reflective, or directed towards her– but he’s upset.

A small part of him wondered if, perhaps, she’d known he’d intended to come here; ah, but what would it matter if she had…? She hated him just as much as the rest. Perhaps she intended to deprive him of what little sense of leisurement he possessed, but she was so impassive all of the time, it seemed unlikely she cared enough to go out of her way. It’s relatively easy to select the Widowmaker from the crowd when one knew what to look for; at times, he was genuinely impressed by how easily she seemed to blend into the background despite her bizarre mannerisms and other eccentricities. Like her motif, she secludes herself off to the outer edges of the establishment, well out of the eye of inattentive patrons– however, the moment he spies her, SIGMA is quick to excuse himself from his own table. Actually, he’s so hasty to leave, he nearly forgets the prepaid card Sombra had gifted him, leaving him a little flustered as the waitron practically chases him down to return it. The evening air nips at him as the card is haphazardly tucked away into his jumpsuit’s chest pocket– however, he starts a little when the Widowmaker’s quiet, glacial tone cuts the otherwise silent air of the side alley. Ugh. 

“... I do not believe in cruelty.” He retorts dryly, habitually soft lavender eyes narrowing with irritation as he slowly turns to face her. SIGMA grunts, shifting uncomfortably on his feet– shoes were so aggravating to wear with his jumpsuit. “-- And it is against my very nature to harm living things.”

  “-- I do not understand; TALON only indicated a desire in my research– so why, then, am I being asked to do any of this…?”

Of course, he voices the majority of this with the maintenance of safe distance from the other agent; she was easily least likely to retaliate exclusively based upon verbal insubordination, but an inability to read her behavior left an inability to trust her behavior. Yet, despite this, he yearns to trust– both because Sombra attests to her reliability, but because he likes her just the same. That’s what makes him so irritable towards her approach, incapable of determining whether it stemmed from purely professional criticism… or some semblance of empathy, perhaps… Difficult not to feel slighted when the other agents so often failed to show even the most meager shred of empathy for him when he seemed to bleed and bleed with empathy for that which afflicts them.

“I– I-I, ah…” His words die in his throat as he scowls down at her, equal parts frustrated and equal parts saddened. “... I was hoping to get away from the rest of you for a little while– everyone only wants to talk about what I’ve done wrong…” SIGMA laments more openly now, agitation melting back into an oozing, cloying grief that settles upon the atmosphere around him. “... I do still have doubts… Wouldn’t anyone…?” He admits with a sigh, brushing wide, gloved hands against his shoulders and down his forearms, attempting to self-soothe as he begins to pace. “... No one had told me this was part of the contract… A-and failure to comply is grounds for immediate termination…! I am a scientist– why am I hurting people!?” He pauses after completing another circle on anxious feet, stopping in front of her some ways away.

“... Miss Widow, can– c-can you… keep a secret…?” SIGMA speaks up after a moment of muttering to himself, mirroring her vacant, glassy stare almost perfectly for a change. “I, ah… A-aha…. On nights like these, sometimes I– um… I… I wish I was still at the facility…” It felt like a sin, to verbally acknowledge the wretched desire to return to the fetid lair he’d been left to rot alone in. He feels sick even just saying it aloud. “If I had known what I know now, I would have never left that cell.”

But that’s all it is, isn’t it? Wishful thinking– the lot of it.

They both know that TALON had no intention of leaving him alive if he wouldn’t live his life in service; a tool was only as valuable as its use dictated– to not have a use would be the same as being utterly worthless. Oh, how he wished she cared-- could care-- if only just enough to be willing to lie to him and assure him otherwise. That's what friends were supposed to be for, weren't they? Wasn't there supposed to be comfort in commiseration...? And yet, he finds none at all.

To say he was heartbroken would be an understatement.

He’s spiraling again. 

“... I will never see the COLONY again in my lifetime, will I, Miss Widow...? They lied, didn’t they…?”

"... Oh, just what have I gotten myself into...?"

[femininomen0n]

oh i’d love to hear your thoughts on season 3! idm you going off topic from my the point of my ask haha it’s always nice to have discussions with people ^^

- 🌟 (so you can identify me jdhdjsj)

(and YES! i know!!! it’s so irritating to see people act like not living a luxurious life = bad ending or the end of the world. like… that’s so– there’s smth so “ew” about that sort of thinking. why can’t one of the leads forgo her comfy aristocratic lifestyle to become a working woman? i feel like they’d be that couple that runs the print shop together and focus on printing radical papers ugh! the perfect story for their characters)

okay, first allow me to apologize for how long it’s taken me to answer this! i won’t bore you with the details, but it’s been one thing after another (heat exhaustion, family stuff, went away with my friend for a few days, etc) so i’ve only just had the time to think about your ask.

anyway, i have mixed feelings about this season. there were things i loved— cressida and eloise, fran, john, and michaela, the featherington family— but so much of it was… lackluster. i’m going to dump my thoughts below; i’ll try (and fail) to keep each point brief!

i’ll start with the low-hanging fruit: the makeup and costumes were all over the place- most of the outfits looked cheap, ugly or both, and don’t even get me started on the acrylic nails. i miss eloise's spencer jackets (save us, sophie canale, save us!)

daphne’s not my favorite character, but i was surprised by how much i felt her absence this season. the show shines brightest when it focuses on the families, but without her everything felt a bit… emptier.

they massively underutilized benedict this season, which was a bummer, since luke t is a true talent. at least the finale (seemingly) set him up to lead s4!

re: benedict, i kept waiting for him to interact more with eloise, but it never came! she was clearly struggling this season (quieter, less rebellious, rejecting her previous interests) and i find it hard to believe that benedict wouldn’t pick up on that at all. instead the show chose to push the colin and eloise relationship, which i wasn’t a fan of. there was nothing inherently wrong with it, but it paled in comparison to ben and eloise and felt a little out of nowhere for me.

i liked polin’s dynamic in s1 and s2. though i preferred (and continue to prefer) other characters/couples, i was looking forward to their story. unfortunately, it fell flat for me. they were sold as a friends-to-lovers story, but i found that angle hard to believe. colin’s whole fake-charming persona was uncomfortable to watch- it may have been that way on purpose, but it just didn't land with me.

so much of the cast- part 2 eloise in particular- behaved incredibly OOC for the sake of the happily-ever-after. rushed, unearned happily-ever-afters aren't a new problem for this show, but it was especially apparent this season because penelope's actions as whistledown were by far the most impactful on both the main cast and the wider ton.

i also hated that the show framed penelope’s inability to let go of the column as a feminist choice. while penelope’s business acumen is impressive, whistledown is ultimately a gossip rag that wields the ton’s baked-in misogyny as a weapon. many of the women (and men) that penelope targeted did nothing to harm her. i wasn't crazy about it on a symbolic level either. whistledown was penelope's outlet when her personal life got to be too much; a real "hurt people hurt people" situation. i didn't find her choice to continue with whistledown (instead of turning over a new leaf by, say, writing novels) empowering, i found it sad. she's married to the love of her life, she’s a mother, she's mended her relationships with her family, and she's still attached to the gossip column that she has used to ruin lives and reputations. it's not a good ending for anyone.

and that’s about it! thanks for letting me chatter :)

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough: Alfira, Karlach, and companion approvals.

(Major dark urge spoilers)

The game is forcing me to get going and move forward now - there’s nothing left for me to do in this area, and it seems that crossing the bridge towards the Blighted Village, or going farther north into the forest, are what triggers the dark urge Alfira camp scene. I was forced to finally do it.

Tav had so much fun with Alfira, it was such a touching scene with her back in the grove. Being a bard doesn’t give you the option to learn how to play musical instruments from her, but what you can do instead is do a duet with her and help her finish her song. Very moving. I loved it. The Weeping Dawn is a beautiful song. My tav has been making such good friends with the tieflings, I’ve really enjoyed the grove SO MUCH, I feel so protective towards the tieflings and I want to help them get safely to Baldur’s Gate. And then this happens. Tav is absolutely inconsolable to be responsible for such senseless and brutal murder, and to have hurt the people he only wanted to protect. We won’t be going back to the grove for a little while… Tav is going to explore the forest for a bit, he is too ashamed to show his face back there right now.

Apparently there’s tricks you can do to stop Alfira from coming to your camp, for instance knocking her out before doing the rest will trigger a different NPC coming, apparently. But like. In game, why would your Tav just randomly knock her out? If you don’t want the dark urge stuff to happen, why play dark urge then?

I knew this scene existed, but I was confused. The youtube cutscene I watched had that funny dragonborn bard showing up at camp instead. Apparently she’s the one who shows up if Alfira is not available. I was not aware though, I was ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED to learn, it is Alfira who normally shows up. Ugh! I’m so sad! I got so attached to the tieflings, how awful, how awful it was. Now my campsite has this horrible shameful stain that won’t go away. I wonder if it will stay there the entire game as a constant reminder of how badly Tav fucked up.

It was a very somber camp chat after that. Gale in particular had some very cutting words. Which I deserved. RIP Alfira. I saved a little tab so I can go back anytime I want to play a duet with her.

Funnily enough, Astarion is almost at 40 approval right now and it’s going to trigger his first romance scene very quickly here. (who says he’s hard to romance? I actually find myself wishing it was going a little slower. I’m having a much worse time impressing Shadowheart right now. You don’t HAVE to do all the bad shit that he thinks is funny to do) It’s funny. Almost immediately after it’s apparent I’ve brutally murdered someone for unclear reasons, Astarion is throwing himself at me. I see it as: when tav is revealed to possibly be extremely dangerous, Astarion figures it’s time to hurry up and ally himself with the biggest bad in the room to save his own skin, kind of thing.

(I also triggered Gale’s first romance cut scene, which I totally didn’t realize at first was a romance scene - I can see how people got trapped in, lol. After an update they apparently added in some more dialogue options though and I think I picked a route that is, I like you just fine Gale but not in That Way, maybe, and we can still be good friends. Gale seems so friendly and chatty at first, but really, he gives away less personal details about himself than anyone else in camp. He feels at first like just a generic wizard dude with an unfortunate need to snack on my magic items, but he’s got just as much of a sad story as any of them, and it takes some effort to learn about it)

Lastly, I’ve finally gotten Karlach, so my main team is now complete. She’s amazing. I love her. It’s a bit stressful having so may awesome companions when I can only walk around with three of them at a time. Every single one is such an interesting character with an interesting story. …however…. My approval with Wyll suddenly shot up to an insane amount. I wasn’t really keeping an eye on but, but before getting Karlach, I was in the low 20s I think, and now suddenly, after all the cutscenes are said and done, I’m at 69. (nice) I guess getting Karlach bumped me up to the 40s, which I guess is what triggered his Mizora scene, which bumped me up another 20. So yeah, Wyll is now suddenly my bestest friend in the whole entire world. He’s an interesting character. Seems at first like a generic swashbuckling hero, but things aren’t what they seem at all, just like all of them.

Coming up next: I think I’m going to be forced to chat with Raphael very soon.

[badheart]

“what? want to see him instead? is he more of your liking?” tatsuya taunted before snorting, bringing two fingers up for show. “but you & me are closer, aren’t we?” alluding to what had happened that night. even if it hadn’t gone that far, there was no real way for her to tell. the dots did not that the guys that saw the video could have potentially told her, still thinking of that whole incident as something else. they had targeted plenty of girls before. it made no sense that one video got them in trouble, when shinji hadn’t done his thing. then, it was him who intervened between the two, playing a more passive role. “not to interrupt your romantic reunion, but isn’t your friend around to babysit you?” he looked as if searching for her—having some unfinished businesses after that. “not that you’re not cute, but tatsuya seems to like you.” he smirked as best as his features would allow him to, trying to mimic the way in which he behaved back then, playing more of a charming role while tatsuya snorted. “she’s already at the perfect height for it anyway.”

"Ew, no. None of you are," she reminded him and made a grimace. Not sure, if she could really hope, that they would leave her alone now, though she would not scream for help, just because some idiots did not learn from their past mistakes. This electronic shop was no place to try anything. "Oh yeah..." Not really impressed by his words, even rolling her eyes, considering she knew the truth now, though it still annoyed her, that she had to learn it from Rei's weirdo boyfriend. Honestly, who even was that guy, that he could beat people up like that, he sure left a lot of marks on them. Then again, it was not that hard now to hurt people, but ... three against one, a little bit impressive. Maybe. She did not like giving him any credit. "We might as well be husband & wife," she spoke in a sarcastic tone and made a gagging noise. A sickening thought.

"Ugh, you still prefer her?!" Fang could not help but ask, appearing quite offended, that this idiot would still think of Rei now. He should keep his hands to himself. "Do you want another beating so badly? You must be fuckin' stupid!" Ugh, she could only grimace at Tatsuya still being interested in her, glaring at him, till he had to make that particular comment. Almost automatically, she stared down at his crotch, before quickly up at him again. Now, she definitely felt the rising adrenaline rush in her body. Her hands gripping onto her wheels, though there was no attempt to seriously flee. Inside the shop, she still felt safer, and she still needed a new mouse. The last being a reminder of her supposed mundane life, doing mundane things, where she just happen to meet some idiots again - trying to calm herself. "Are you this obsessed with me?" she had to ask and even managed a smirk. "Or is it lack of luck with other girls? You are pathetic, both of you are... and if you guys don't wanna be completely useless, you can either help me." Pointing at the variety of computer mouses. "Or fuck right off!"

[chocolatemilksmoothie]

Reaching Out

my heart. Once again toh season 2 gives us another amazing episode! let's do this

the cold open was so short and it made me go oh. We're in for some Feelings aren't we

loved the detail of Luz having an electric bug powered phone charger. resourceful!

I thought it may be Camila's birthday but that seemed way too simple. Yeah

As usual, Luz projects and tries to keep her mind busy when something is wrong

And the fact she's trying to get the door working that same day... she wants to see her mom so bad

"that'll work great when birds try to fly away with me" KING OH NO

Surprised Hunter got a penstagram before Luz did. like she has her phone of course but it doesn't have penstagram

"are you good now?" ashjakdh Luz ily

speaking of which: Hunter's account I love him so much lmao he's learning to type a lil bit faster. that selfie is killing me

Eda can tell immediately something is wrong. so can most people really, Luz wears her heart on her sleeve even if she tries to hide it

the jacket awww

Luz looked so Tired this episode, which is understandable

lmao is that a signed copy of a book by Darius?? the eye roll??? and then he has it destroyed I NEED to know more about these two asap next ep better give me something

Mittens wants to kick some ass not join a coven, daaaad

it's cool we've been getting a glimpse of the characters' parents when they were younger! last week we got Willow's dads and next week we'll get more Eda

Odalia looking impressed, Raine and Eda being in love in the background and of course, Darius booing. I'm cackling

and so, the dad related talk hits Luz quite hard in this particular day... so here she comes to help break the rules

we also got a confirmation Eda knows the Blights, which I could've guessed but still

I loved the twins this episode they actually look dorky they're so cute and supportive

ED KEPT THE BAT FROM SEASON 1 good for him

Edric focus wasn't something I expected but boy am I glad we got it. Eda once again adopting children and teaching them the ways of wild magic

"Miss Eda" I love him

Eda can control the harpy transformation so well now! u go girl!!

addressing the B plot since we're at it, we didn't get that much new info since the warden didn't know much. the Day of Unity keeps getting more and more ominous

Belos trying to get rid of ALL magic is this what we're getting at? I can see it

the animation for the action this week! stellar as usual. Loved the fighting/getting ingredients montage

Amity understandably is a bit upset at Luz for how strange she's been acting and refusing to tell her what's wrong

*wins belt* "I already have one" *leaves*

glad that Amity started getting through to her dad this episode. He is quite distant and just like Odalia has been pretty bad and demanding towards her, but it seems he might start paying a bit more attention from now on, little by little

ok ok ok this whole conversation under the Grom fight Tree was so beautiful and heartfelt I absolutely loved every second. it was under the GROM FIGHT TREE Imma go cry

the way Luz tries to dismiss it as oh it happened a long time ago it's fine but it doesn't have to be. doesn't matter how long ago it was, it's ok to not be ok sweetie. the voice acting was so good too ugh

Harpy Eda is taller that's so cool

"I WANT A T-SHIRT TOO" same girl

between "my student/child" and "Edalyn's kid?" I love how we all agree Luz is Eda's daughter too

So the glyphs do what you want them to do, I was wondering how she gets them to go in a specific shape or direction that's cool. it's like they can listen to you

beautiful ending. I noticed the balloon Amity made kinda looks like the vase Camila put her flower in awww

Absolutely loved this one. The cast and crew are ON FIRE every single week I am grateful

[goblinofbiscuits]

My badass bass player

Nikki sixx x black gn bassist reader

Summary: Nikki finds your bass and thinks your cheating, little does he know he's in for a surprise

Warning:cussing,accusations and suspicions of cheating, secret keeping from one partner and cussing

"Who's bass is this?" Nikki asked walking into the room looking pissed. Holding up your bass

Your eyes went a little wide, your mind was racing on what to say.

You had started playing bass a couple months ago, you start playing after seeing how much fun nikki had when playing. So one day when he was at the studio recording a new album, you decide to pick up his bass and try it, and as it turn out you really really really loved it.

So when nikki went on tour and took the bass he kept at home with him as a backup for tour, you decided to buy your own, at first you try to push bass out of your mind, music was always nikki's thing, you didn't want to cut into that, but all you could about all day besides nikki of course, was bass.

So you went out and bought your own bass and Amp, you were so fuckin happy about it too, and not wanting to tell nikki about your newly found love, but still wanting to shiw somebody, you called your friend Sarah over and showed her your new bass and even played for her

To say she was impressed would be a understament

"That was fucking awesome, you should seriously join a band, you would kill with those skills"

You debated it for awhile, it was super conflicting , on one hand you would again feel like you were cutting into nikkis thing, but you did spend alot of time alone to the point were it was kinda getting Unhealthy, and it would give you a chance to improve your skills with a group, so you found a couple of bands looking for a bassist and tried out

The band new about you hiding your bass skills and music stuff from nikki. They personally thought that you should tell him, your drummer Andre, straight up told you it was a dumb thing to keep secret, which you could agree with still you couldn't bring yourself to tell him

"What y/n don't have even Decency to tell me who the piece of shit is your fucking?"

"Ya know how fucked up this is y/n we have been together for two fucking years and you fucking cheat on me"

"Nikki" you say trying to get his attention but he just keeps going

"Seem like bassist are type, fuckin pathetic" he said sighing and rolling his eye

"Nikki, honey it's my bass" you admit try to get him to stop his ramble before you lose the lov of your life

" ugh yeah right" he said sitting at the edge of the bed running a hand of his face

"I'm serious nik it's my bass" you said pleading with him to belive you

"Yeah and I can magically play drums all the sudden" he said looking totally furious at this point

"Hold on a second, stay right there" you said running into the room to grab you kept your Amp in grabbing and hauling it into your bedroom were your bass sat beside nikki on the bed

You grab it and plugged it in and sat on the the floor before the bed

"You really don't need to lie-"

Nikki was cut of by you playing a bass solo, this particular solo was hard to learn cause it starts out by just playing basic chords then turn into alot of fast complicated chord changes.

But you played it, very well and looked up at nikki who was shocked

"See I'm not cheating nikki, I swear to you"

"But what about all those nights you came in late and had those nice outfits on?" He asked sound less anger and more curious

"I was at band practice and gigs" you say unplugging your bass and setting it down, walking up to Nikki and sitting in his lap

"YOUR IN A BAND?!!!" He said with a big goofy front on his face

You giggled and nodded in response while you played with his messy black hair, just happy he didn't break up with you

"Damn my baby more of a badass then I thought, tell me more about your band baby" he said wrapping his arm around waist and kissing your neck

"Well, there's andre who plays drums, rose who play lead guitar, Alex who plays rhythm, and billy is the singer,while I of course play bass"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked looking almost hurt

It was understandable though you and nikki had no secret at all, you too did almost everything together and never judge one another, so you not telling him something like this was a first

"I didn't want to cut into your territory, it just that music has always been your thing and I would feel bad if me play would change that ya know?" You tell him truthfully

"You could never ruin music for me honey if anything you just make me enjoy it more, If anything I'm even more happy that I can share music with you baby" he said kissing your cheek

"Your gonna have to take me to see your next gig though, I'm gonna be the loudest fucker there, supporting my badass bass player" you chuckled at him a little

"Tell me everything about your bass journey I want to know it all" he said cuddling into you even more