#that's a lot of questions but I also have so many thoughts so

[hellodropbear]

17520 hours.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter (ish)

angst. part of the 'it's time.' series

mapi struggles on the two year anniversary of her best friend's death. Ingrid is right there to help her but she doesn't know how to let her in.

this is a lot more angst than i'm used to posting but i hope you like it.

it was hard to write and partially based on personal experiences so i apologise if it's not very good.

also decided to put it all in one part because i couldn't find a good place to split it!

i hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~

Two years is a long time. 

Two years is 104 weeks, two years is 730 days. Two birthdays, two christmases, two easters. Two summers and two winters, two new years and two anniversaries. 

Two years is a long time to miss someone. It should be enough time to have moved on. 

But when their daughter is in your care, that seems almost impossible. 

It was everyday that Mapi thought about her best friend, sometimes looking at her daughter and only seeing his eyes staring right back at her. 

The day was one that the Spaniard dreaded, the days becoming quicker and quicker in the lead up, the night before slowing right down as she crawled into bed, tossing and turning as she tried to sleep. 

Isabel was almost two. Still too young to understand that there was anything out of the ordinary in her life, anything that raised any questions. Even if Mapi tried explaining, she was sure that her daughter wouldn’t have the first idea what anything meant. 

She wouldn’t understand that Mapi wasn’t supposed to have her even though she gave birth. She wouldn’t understand that her parents had died because her Mami was right there in front of her. 

It was just a part of parenthood that Mapi had no idea how to conquer. She knew everything else, having spent hours and hours with her head buried in countless baby books, countless books that discussed grief and sadness in children. 

But Isabel wasn’t sad, she wasn’t grieving because she never knew Luis or Isabel. 

There were no books about how to tell a kid about her dead parents. It was a taboo topic, of sorts, one that many stand-in parents were reluctant to discuss with their child, hoping that they would just believe that they were their real parents. It was a bridge most people decided to cross when they had to, not at any point earlier than completely necessary. 

Mapi didn’t want that, she wanted her daughter to know who Luis was, who Isabel was. 

She just didn’t know when or how she should introduce the idea of them. 

But the second anniversary of their death left Mapi in a numb state, entirely torn up on the inside as she tried to decide whether she would take her daughter with her on her annual graveyard visit. It was Mapi’s time to chat to Luis alone, no interruptions, no distractions. 

Because while Isabel lost her parents, Mapi lost her lifelong best friend. 

She lost Luis, who meant everything and more to her. Luis who had moved to Barcelona a few months after her, Luis who watched every single one of her games, the first person to text her after a hard loss or an impressive win. 

She still hadn’t got out of the habit of checking her phone after a match, pain settling deep in her chest as her screen remained bare, his notification forever absent. 

It wasn’t a question of where she would be on the second anniversary. She knew exactly where she would be sat and exactly how she would feel as she stared at that obnoxiously large gravestone, big bold carvings of his name, his date of birth and date of death. 

‘Loving husband, son and friend.’ it read. Not father. ‘A man who lit up the lives of everyone he met.’ It was an understatement, Mapi had thought.

She had spent hours there when Isabel was a newborn, cradling her tiny body in her arms as she sat and silently stared at those few words. Loneliness ate her up, wishing for nothing other than her best friend. 

But her daughter had lit up her world as everything else was crumbling down, single handedly keeping the two of them afloat as Mapi grew tired, the sheer weight of her emotions almost drowning them. 

Isabel was an infant, too young to know anything was different. She was completely enraptured by her mother, smiling and laughing everyday they spent together in their small and stuffy apartment, completely unaware of the anguish that her mother was going through. 

It seemed fitting on the second anniversary of their death, only a couple months before her second birthday that Isabel would finally visit their gravestones. 

Even the thought of the graveyard made her feel uncomfortable, Mapi’s skin crawling at the thought of her best friend beneath her, cold and still. Someone she loved, such a warm and constant presence in her life, lying right there in the ground. 

It made her feel sick. Sick with anger because he was gone too soon. With grief because she never got to say goodbye. With guilt because she got to have the one thing he had always wanted. But mostly sick with the heartbreaking realisation that he was down there, in the flesh. 

Luis was dead. 

~~~~~~

It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered as she stepped out of the car, the cool breeze prickling her skin as she unclipped a groggy Isabel from the back seat. 

“Where are we, Mami?” 

She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings in confusion, probably expecting to have woken up in her bed. 

Mapi just hugged her, not trusting her voice to not break if she tried to respond. 

Despite only visiting twice before, the graveyard was familiar, she knew exactly how to get to Luis’ plot. She walked with purpose, not looking at the grave as she laid down the rug, only facing her best friend’s name once she was sat down. 

“This is your Papi, Is.”

Saying it out loud, her daughter in her arms. His daughter in her arms. It felt unusual, it felt uncomfortable. She could feel Isabel looking up at her, the confusion that radiated from the toddler’s body. 

She loosened her arms as Isabel wriggled herself free, waddling towards the stone and placing her hand on it. 

“Papi?”

She looked back at Mapi, a question in her eyes. She was met with tears slipping down her Mami’s face. 

“Mami.”

In an instant, she was back in Mapi’s arms, reaching up and wiping away the tears. 

“No sad, Mami. Brave like lion.”

Mapi nodded, a watery chuckle falling from her mouth. 

“I’m going to talk to your Papi, Is. Is that ok?”

Isabel nodded, settling herself on the rug with her lion toy as Mapi stood up, walking closer to the stone and placing her hand on his name, crouching down so it was at eye level. 

“Meet your daughter, Lu. She has your eyes, you know. She’s funny and smart and entirely the light of my life. I love her so much. More than I ever loved you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, really. I promise. I promise I’ve tried my best and I hope you’re proud of her. I hope you’re proud of me.”

She bit her lip, unsuccessfully biting back her own tears. 

“It’s been two years, Lu. I don’t know how I have made it through two whole years without you, really. It’s been so… hard. I still expect to see you, to hear from you. Sometimes I think I do, only to realise that it’s not possible. Because you’re dead. You weren’t supposed to die, not so soon. You were supposed to watch your daughter grow, I was supposed to be her really cool aunt that she would go to when you argued, to give her that tattoo when you said no. ”

She let out a strangled chuckle, trying to alleviate some of the pain she felt. They had discussed Mapi’s relationship with the child at length, knowing that the centre back would love the child as her own because she was always with Luis, she would always be around the couple as they raised their child. That wouldn’t have changed if she wasn’t biologically Mapi’s. 

Back then, Mapi had thought she would have been fine with the situation. She knew the baby wasn’t really hers, she knew that she would still be able to watch the baby grow up, that she would still be able to love her. 

It wasn’t a problem that had actually materialised, but they hadn’t expected both Isabel and Luis to die right before she was born. 

“Now I have to discipline her, Luis, which is the one thing I didn’t want to have to do. But she’s such a good girl, she is so intelligent. Like you, really. She knows how I feel all the time, she definitely inherited your emotional intelligence. She loves everyone too, just like you. I was never supposed to be a mother, was I? You were always the paternal one out of the two of us, you were the one who deserved a child. But I am the one that got her.”

She swallows roughly, biting her lip. 

“Oh Luis, you would have loved her so much.”

Very quickly, she is overcome by her tears, collapsing down into herself in sobs. 

It’s all too much, it’s all too hard. 

It’s unfair that her best friend left her, that she was left alone to grow up. Growing up was something they had discussed at length when they were younger. Obviously they were never going to be married, they’d never live together. 

They had dreamt of adjoining houses, doors that connected their backyards. They were going to grow up together, the two of them. Luis would have his wife and a gaggle of kids, Mapi would have her wife and a pack of cats. They’d have their own families but their lives would be so closely connected because they loved each other in the purest way possible. 

A childhood connection, one that grew and grew into adulthood. 

One that was supposed to last a lifetime. 

It did last a lifetime, it lasted Luis’ lifetime. Just not Mapi’s. 

She calmed herself down after a couple minutes, Isabel unsurprisingly noticing her mother’s sadness and crawling into her arms as a source of comfort. 

They sat there for hours, an easy silence settling upon the pair. Mapi was deep in thought, Isabel knew it wasn’t the time for play, it wasn’t the time for her mindless babbling. 

It had been a couple hours when she heard the footsteps, people approaching silently. 

She hadn’t expected to see anyone there, but upon reflection she realised she had been naive - it was the anniversary after all. 

“Maria?”

She hadn’t heard Ane’s voice in two years. The last conversation they had was full of empty promises, of visits to Zaragoza that Mapi knew she would not go on. Promises that they would get to know the child that was growing in Mapi’s stomach, promises that they wouldn’t lose touch. 

They had lost touch, Mapi unable to visit Luis’ home whenever she returned to her parents. Ane and Mikel were in too much pain to see the child, not sure how they could face it. 

“Ane.” She stood up, facing the older woman and allowing herself to be enveloped in her arms. 

“It’s so good to see you, Maria.”

Mapi could only nod, her eyes still watery and her face still red. It had been a long morning. 

She turned to face Mikel, who was staring straight forward, his eyes only softening as Mapi grabbed his hand and kissed it. 

“I have missed you both.” She smiled softly. It was a sad smile, but a real one. 

They were Luis’ parents, of course, but they were her pseudo parents whenever she needed them. They were so close, especially when Mapi and Luis were in their teenage years. 

“Is this… is that her?”

Ane looked down at the curly headed girl, her eyes softening as she watched her play with her toys. 

“Isabel Luisa.” Mapi nodded. “I thought today would be a good day for her to come visit.”

The older woman looked down at the child adoringly, smiling as she looked up at the unfamiliar adults. 

It was a bit awkward for a few moments, as Mapi, Mikel and Ane sat in an uncomfortable silence. 

Mapi excused herself, moving away to the bathrooms but leaving her belongings by the grave. She knew she wanted to talk to them, that they wanted to talk to her. 

She also knew they needed some time alone before they would be able to. 

But she did return, sitting down on her rug right beside the older couple. 

And Ane spoke, her voice soft, her voice sad. 

She told Mapi how grateful she is, how glad she is that she took Isabel in, that she didn’t even question it. How grateful she is that Mapi did everything to make her son happy all throughout his life, from buying him an extra chocolate bar when they were children to carrying his baby for him when he and his wife were unable to do it. 

Ane told her that she had given him his one dream, fatherhood. It was just unlucky that he wasn’t alive to live it. 

There were tears in her eyes as she told her how grateful Luis would be. How much he loved her. How happy he would be that his daughter ended up with the Spaniard, the person he probably trusted the most in the world. 

Mapi nodded her appreciation, sitting with the two adults for a while longer before Isabel grew tired, the sun falling down, the afternoon turning into evening. 

She said a tearful goodbye, collecting her things and standing, Mikel standing up as well and walking her to her car. 

“She looks just like him.” His words were soft, softer than Mapi had ever heard him. “I have thought about you every day, Maria. You and her. I am so relieved to see you here because I worried so much about you. I worried that you wouldn’t be ok, that you’d not be able to raise her. Not because I doubted you, but because I know how hard it is to lose people.”

Mapi nodded softly, looking up at the man. 

“I don’t doubt that you have had a hard time, but I also don’t doubt that you’re a good Mami. A great Mami to this little girl.”

“Thanks, Mikel.”

He nodded, that was all he needed to say. 

It was all he needed to say for Mapi to tear up again, picking Isabel up and holding her in his space. He looked at the Spaniard, who nodded, before placing a soft kiss on her head. 

“Come visit, Maria. When you come home. Bring the little one too.”

Mapi nodded, a smile on her face. 

This time, it wasn’t an empty promise. 

~~~~~~

She got home to an empty apartment. Quiet, dark. She could have texted Ingrid, the Norwegian likely would have come over in an instant, her warm arms right there for endless comfort. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to open her phone, couldn’t bring herself to stand up and walk over to the kitchen table where it was sitting. Instead, she stayed seated, relaxed back on the sofa with tears tracking down her face as she stared blankly at the wall. 

It wasn’t often that she was left alone with her thoughts. Not when she had a chatty toddler to look after, a loving girlfriend who spent every day trying to make Mapi happy. It worked, because Ingrid did make her happy, happier than she’d ever been. 

And Isabel also made her happy, she was the best thing in the Spaniard’s life. 

So why did she feel so sad? Why was Luis’ death still so hard for her to process?

Two years felt like too long to still be so upset about it all. She wondered when it would go away. If it would ever go away. 

His death was something that Mapi didn’t think she would ever be able to comprehend. She was able to live her life as normal again, plastering a smile to cover up the mess that she was on the inside. But it had taken such a long time to even get to that point, despite her daughter’s positive presence.  

Everyone knew how long it had taken. Mapi didn’t think anyone really knew how broken up she still felt about it. A part of her was embarrassed, embarrassed that she still hadn’t gotten over it. Was still yet to move on. 

Even as she thought it over, progress seemed so impossible. The thought of moving on like so many people had told her to do made her feel sick, because how was she supposed to move on when he was everything to her?

She didn’t sleep that night, barely able to smile as she fed Isabel and put her to bed. The toddler knew something was wrong, of course, a frown on her face as Mapi put her down for the evening. 

Isabel had seen Mapi sad before. Lots of times, really, but her mother usually tried her best to hide it from her. She would push the emotions down and far away as she interacted with her kid but Isabel was so perceptive, so in tune with Mapi’s emotions. 

She knew whenever Mapi was sad. It made her feel sad too. 

But Isabel never would have known that her mother was sitting in the same spot on the sofa all night, her mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions, resisting any rest that tried to fall upon her. 

She wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Ingrid that she wanted to be alone for the day, that her girlfriend shouldn’t come over like she usually did. The Spaniard just didn’t know if it would make it better or worse. She didn’t know how to alleviate herself from some of the pain she felt. 

She realised she didn’t know much at all. 

Mapi watched as the sun rose outside, the night becoming morning. The new day arriving along with the sounds of birds chirping, the city happily waking up as the clouds had gone away and the sun had finally come out. 

Two years and one day. 

Her daughter’s whining was audible from her spot in the main room as she woke up. Her daughter’s whining was probably the only thing that would have successfully moved her from her seat. 

“Mami!” Isabel frowned at the sight of her mother as her door opened, dark bags beneath her red and puffy eyes. 

“Good morning, my girl.”

She smiled weakly, kneeling beside her toddler and raking her hand through her hair as Isabel became more aware of her surroundings. 

It was a slow morning; a slow rise from bed and a slow breakfast. The toddler was still in her pyjamas by 10, her hair and teeth remained unbrushed. 

It was no surprise that Ingrid was on the other side of the door at 11, Isabel opening the door when she heard the knocks. The Norwegian had a bright smile on her face as she scooped Isabel up into her arms and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“Mami, Ingrid.” She pointed over at where Mapi was standing, and it was one glance at the Spaniard that told Ingrid that despite her promise that she’d be alright, her girlfriend was definitely not ok. Her smile faded and she frowned slightly, concern etched deep into her features, 

Her steps towards Mapi were tentative, unsure how to approach the situation. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Mapi, of course she knew her. She just didn’t know about Mapi’s grief. She had heard from teammates that she hadn’t dealt with the death well, that she had locked herself up in her house for months, over a year. But it was one topic that the Spaniard avoided at all costs, a master of changing the subject whenever it would come up. 

Ingrid never felt like it was her place to pry. 

But now, seeing her girlfriend so… broken, so depleted, it made her regret not being more insistent in those times. Because maybe if they spoke about it then, she would know how to help. 

But in that moment, she had no idea what to do. 

“Maria…” Her voice was quiet. “I’ve missed you.”

Mapi didn’t reply, but she could feel Ingrid’s free arm wrapping around her and she immediately clung onto her girlfriend. She was desperate and Ingrid was a lifeline. 

“Alright. Isabel, do you want to go play with Bagheera for a minute?”

The child nodded as she was placed back on the floor, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge where the cat was likely waking up from her nap. 

Mapi, still clinging onto the Norwegian’s arm, frowned slightly, still not willing herself to make eye contact with Ingrid. 

“You’re not ok, Mapi, are you?”

She didn’t nod, she didn’t shake her head. Her mouth remained completely sealed. 

But Ingrid knew her well enough to recognise the tears that filled up her eyes, the way her hand trembled against the Norwegian’s skin. 

The brunette softened, her worries confirmed; leaving Mapi alone for the entire previous day was probably one of the worst promises she had ever made. She shouldn’t have agreed to it, not when she knew that Mapi would need her. 

“Ok. It’s ok. You’ll be ok, Maria. I just want you to sit down for me.”

She led her around to the other side of the kitchen bench, sitting down in a seat right beside her and wrapping her arm around the Spaniard’s shoulders. 

The Norwegian could feel herself becoming more and more anxious at Mapi’s almost catatonic state, entirely unequipped and unsure how to deal with it. 

It took half an hour of speaking to Mapi with no response for Ingrid to realise that she couldn’t do anything. A heartbreaking realisation of sorts, but one that she needed to have in order to help her.  

She knew she should be able to do this herself, she wished that it didn’t have to be so hard. But Alexia had been there before Ingrid, Alexia had been there for Mapi during Isabel’s infancy, right after she lost Luis. 

So she sent the Spanish midfielder a quick text, alerting her of the centre back’s state.

She felt guilty as the relief surged through her, Alexia assuring her that she would be there soon. 

However, neither the Spaniard nor the Norwegian could see the toddler’s tears, her quiet whimpers of anxiety and upset. 

Isabel didn’t like seeing Mapi upset, not at all. She was a happy person, usually, a permanent smile on her face, energetic as she played with the toddler. 

But she sat and stroked Bagheera, silent tears streaming down her little face with one thought on her mind. Why was Mami so sad all of a sudden? And why did it make her feel so miserable too?

Alexia arrived in a flurry, her heart dropping at the sight of her friend as she rushed towards her, immediately pulling her into a suffocating hug. 

“Maria, Maria. Come on, please. Say something.” Her voice sounded urgent and Ingrid could only watch, worry and confusion clear on her face. 

With no response, Alexia leaned back, staring straight into Mapi’s eyes. She could read the centre back like a book and her eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

“Ale.”

She frowned, tilting her head at the blonde in front of her. 

“Mapi, breathe. Take a deep breath in.”

Ingrid slipped out of the room as Mapi followed Alexia, breathing in and out slowly until she collapsed into Alexia’s arms, the tears spilling from her eyes easily as she reconnected with reality. 

It was her reaction to sadness, Mapi had realised a few months ago. Disconnecting from the world around her, unable to move, speak. She could barely hear anything, see anything until it was right in front of her face. 

She couldn’t feel anything either, but that was a more common response, something that she couldn’t be pulled out of so easily. 

She hated it, more than anything. Because when she was pulled from her state of disconnect, she felt nothing but terror, an overwhelming sadness that came rushing back as soon as that trap door opened. 

It was like her body was trying to protect her from feeling, the emotions just too much. It would just shut down until she was numb, not really registering that at some point she just had to feel it because there was no way of getting away from those emotions. 

Alexia had seen it all before and she was usually the one to grab Mapi, to shake her out of her headspace and bring her back to reality. 

It was terrifying for her too, especially the first time she witnessed it. 

“Ale.”

Mapi’s sobs had been reduced to quiet whimpers into Alexia’s shoulder after a while, her mind throwing itself through all her thoughts, all her emotions. Luis was gone, Luis had been gone for two years. She has his daughter, her Isabel who she loves so much. Ingrid was here but now she is not, where has Ingrid gone? Alexia, right in front of her, fear visible in the midfielder’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

Luis was gone, Isabel was hers. Ingrid was gone, Alexia was here.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

Her four people. 

She felt her breath hitch, Alexia’s arms tightening around her. 

She felt the tears dripping down from her eyes, saturating the fabric of Alexia’s shirt, the wet fabric now uncomfortable to rest her face on. 

She could hear Alexia’s breathing, the sound of her heart racing. 

Feel Alexia’s arms around her, the floor beneath her feet and the chair that she was sitting on. 

Taste the salty tears. Tears of grief, fear, confusion. 

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia. 

“Ale, where is Isabel?”

~~~~~~

Ingrid slipped out of the room easily, not needed as Alexia dealt with Mapi’s overwhelming emotions. 

Mapi’s cries were audible from the main room she found herself in, wincing as she walked towards Isabel who was still stroking Bagheera, her movements fluid and repetitive, a consistent cycle that easily could have rubbed a groove into the cat’s black fur. 

The Norwegian couldn’t see the tears that had stained the little girl's face, still spilling from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them away. 

But her shoulders shook unnaturally, a shuddering inhale that had Ingrid picking up her pace and sitting down right beside Isabel and pulling her into her arms as soon as she noticed how upset she was. 

Silently, she placed a thoughtful kiss on the crown of her head, her heart breaking at the silent tears, at Isabel's defeated demeanour. 

No toddler should know how to cry silently. 

"What's wrong, Is?"

At her words, Isabel promptly spun around in Ingrid's arms, collapsing into her and crying audibly, her entire body weight relying on the Norwegian to be held.

"Mami sad, Ingrid. I'm sad too!"

Her voice was broken and Ingrid’s heart dropped at the sound of it. 

It wasn’t hard to leave, understanding that Isabel needed to get out of the apartment, that she needed to be away from the inconsolable Mapi who could still be heard crying in the kitchen. 

So she left, slipping out the front door and carrying Isabel down to the street, holding her tight as she cried, walking over to the park. 

By the time they reached their familiar bench, her cries had weakened, only releasing quiet puffs of air every few moments as she relished in the comfort of Ingrid’s arms. 

The Norwegian sat down, loosening her grip on the toddler and manoeuvring her so that they were looking right at each other. Ingrid’s frown was light and her hands were soft as she reached out and wiped the tears away from Isabel’s wet cheeks, cupping her face when she was done. 

Words failed the defender as she looked at the toddler, her uncanny resemblance to Mapi heightened in her upset state. 

She matched her mother perfectly, Ingrid thought, trying to avoid that voice in the back of her head that she would never be enough. Their smiles were identical and their laughs sounded the same. They both carried the same exasperated sigh, the confused frown and those doe eyes that were impossible to say no to. But they carried the same tears, the same cries. 

Mapi’s emotions were often reflected in her daughter, whether it was happiness, excitement, fear, sadness. Isabel was smart - emotionally intelligent. It was like she always knew exactly how her Mami was feeling, even if she wasn’t old enough to understand why, to understand what those feelings were. 

This was one of those times when she had no idea what this sadness meant. She could clearly feel the sadness, feel her mother was sad. But she wasn’t even two yet, how could she possibly be expected to process those emotions like someone years older?

Ingrid wasn’t bad with kids either. There were heaps of children in her family; cousins, nieces, nephews. She’d been there throughout all of their childhoods, able to comfort them and soothe them enough until their parents came back. 

But Isabel’s sadness was completely new territory, there was no waiting for Mapi to arrive because Ingrid knew she wouldn’t. It was up to her to calm down the child but for the first time, she was completely stumped. 

She didn’t know what she could say to calm her down. She didn’t know how Isabel felt, she was too young to be able to express her emotions, to talk through what she was feeling. 

But this wasn’t a tantrum or a small cry over a minor convenience. This was a meltdown, caused by her overwhelming emotions that she couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“Ingrid…” 

She spoke quietly, leaning into the comfort of the Norwegian’s hands on her face. 

Ingrid nodded, encouraging the child to continue. 

“Why my Papi a rock?” 

The Norwegian’s face softened, her heart sinking as she tried to subtly release an exhale that she had been holding in. 

Unsure what she was going to say, she opened her mouth. But Isabel was too quick, raising her voice another time. 

“Why Mami sad at rock?”

“Is…” 

The child looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, pure innocence reflected in her eyes, her features. 

“Isabel. Your Papi, he’s not a rock. Your Papi was a person, a very good person.”

The child frowned, confusion etched deep into her features. Ingrid thought she seemed entirely too concerned for a not quite two year old. 

“He died before you were born though, Is. Mami is sad today because she misses him. She misses your Papi.”

She doubted Isabel would even understand what she was trying to say. She didn’t know when children were supposed to understand the concept of death, the concept of life. 

Definitely not before the age of two. 

So Ingrid decided to try to move away from the topic, her new goal just to bring a smile back onto Isabel’s face. It was the least she could do, really. 

“But it’s ok, Is, because you have Mami and you have me and you have Alexia and you have Leila and Patri and Pina! You love all of those people don’t you?”

Isabel nodded easily, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“I love them so much. Especially Mami. And you, Ingrid!” 

Ingrid chuckled, her laughs a superficial cover of the anxieties and concern she felt. Because Isabel was right here calming down in her arms, but she had no idea of the state of Mapi, she had no idea how long this happiness would last. 

“And everyone I just mentioned loves you too. And your Papi, he loves you as well but he loves you from somewhere else. You have people everywhere loving you!” 

Ingrid beamed, trying to make the conversation feel more lighthearted. It was a successful attempt, apparently, because Isabel replicated her smile and turned herself around, sitting back down in Ingrid’s lap and leaning into her chest. 

“I love you Ingrid.”

The Norwegian could only smile sadly, planting a thoughtful kiss on Isabel’s head. 

~~~~~~

Mapi’s head was a mess, Alexia had realised. Her emotions all over the place, her priorities set in a weird and confusing line. 

The tears had eventually ran out and she was clearly exhausted, her head in Alexia’s lap as the blonde spoke softly. The familiar Spanish was a comfort to Mapi’s ears, the words meaningful, flooded with emotion.

“You need to worry about what is important right now,” Alexia had murmured, her hands combing through Mapi’s hair. It was reminiscent of how the centre back calmed her own daughter, soft hands and quiet words. 

It was reminiscent of how Mapi’s own mother used to soothe her, nostalgic and comforting. 

“Luis is important, of course he is. But he’s gone, Maria. If you’re going to worry about anything it has to be yourself, it has to be Isabel. You have to think about Ingrid, how to prioritise your relationship on top of everything else.”

Alexia shook her head at that, sighing almost silently. 

“Ingrid will try not to let you focus on her, but you have to try. You have to show her how much you love her like I know you do. That she’s your person.”

Mapi looked up at Alexia, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned. 

“She… she doesn’t know that?”

“She does know that, of course she does. But sometimes you need to put her first. Sometimes she needs you the most. Sometimes, she needs you more than Isabel does. She wants to know all of you, Mapi, even this part. She wants to understand your grief, to know what to do when you are having a hard time. She wants me to look after Isabel while she comforts you because she loves you. You are her person, just like she is yours.”

Mapi frowned again, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fill up her eyes. Because Ingrid was everything to her, of course she was. She was the person that Mapi loved more than anyone, the first person she had ever really and truly fallen in love with. But Alexia was right. More often than not, her attention was pulled away from Ingrid, Isabel making an appearance. Maybe she was hungry, thirsty, tired. She could have been bored or overexcited or maybe she just couldn’t sleep. 

Because Isabel was her baby girl, her last connection to Luis; her last connection to her person before Ingrid. 

It was somewhat painful for Mapi to consider how these small things would have hurt the Norwegian, how they would have all built up over time, building Ingrid’s thick skin, the impenetrable strength and sometimes superficial happiness that the Spaniard wished to break down.

“What do I do, Ale?”

Her voice broke and Alexia pulled her upwards, straight into a hug. 

“You talk to her.”

Mapi nodded, falling back down to her lying position on the sofa, the exhaustion of the day overcoming her despite it only being 12pm. 

Alexia could tell the exact moment she fell asleep, her breathing evening out and her body finally relaxing. 

The midfielder had expected something like this to happen today. She knew that Luis’ death was a date engraved in her friend’s mind, one that could never pass without any upset, any thought. 

It was only the second anniversary so of course it would bring up all of the emotions that were left and ignored two years ago, Mapi’s grief pushed away by the little baby Isabel. The same thing had happened a year ago and the midfielder knew it would happen again in another year. 

Only she hoped she wouldn’t be needed in a years time, similar to how she had hoped that she wasn’t required this year. 

She had been somewhat surprised and just a little bit disappointed when she received Ingrid’s text, having hoped that Mapi finally would have spoken to her girlfriend about it, that Ingrid would have expected it and known exactly what she needed to do. It was abundantly clear, however, that it was not the case. 

Ingrid’s terrified and bewildered facial expression was one piece of evidence, but so was Mapi’s silence, her heavy breathing and her complete refusal to speak while the Norwegian was in the room. 

She was disappointed, really. She felt guilt overcome her as she watched Ingrid slip out of the room, a look of pure defeat written all over her face as she accepted that there was nothing she could do to help Mapi. 

Mapi who was an emotional wreck, who needed support and who just needed to let everything out for once. 

Mapi, who needed her girlfriend’s comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it, couldn’t bring herself to ask for it. 

Alexia knew that the Norwegian would have given it to her without a second thought. 

It was all she could think about as Ingrid walked back through the door, Isabel’s hand tight in hers as her eyes scanned the room and landed on the sleeping Mapi in Alexia’s lap. 

Isabel inspected her quietly, satisfied with her sleeping body on the sofa. She was with Alexia and Alexia made people happy. She was sure Mapi would be happy now, so she scampered out of the lounge and into the laundry where she knew Bagheera would be waiting. 

Ingrid was less convinced, sitting beside Alexia with concern written all over her face. 

“She’ll be alright.” Alexia whispered her words softly, an attempt to make the Norwegian feel better. She didn’t expect Ingrid’s eyes to fill up with tears, her head falling into her hands. 

“Why doesn’t she talk to me about any of this?”

Her voice sounded defeated, frustrated. Her watery eyes looked back up towards Alexia and the midfielder could easily see the anguish in her eyes. 

“She’s bad at talking about it, embarrassed by it. She doesn’t like to feel all these emotions so she just pushes them away. But they come back every now and again and she has no idea how to deal with it. I try telling her that it’s normal, she shouldn’t feel embarrassed but she doesn’t listen. It makes her feel weak, she said. You saw her earlier too, she just shuts down. I think it’s because she just doesn’t know what else she can do so she turns into a robot of sorts, on autopilot to get things done. And then someone will come and see straight through her and it’s like she breaks.”

Alexia’s eyes were watering, her hand coming to rest on Mapi’s head. 

“But she loves you so much, Ingrid. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone before. I know she wants to talk to you about all this, she wishes she could just let it all out. We’ve discussed it before, what she could say, how she could say it. She’ll call me the next day and say she chickened out, she couldn’t bring herself to go through it all. It’s mentally exhausting, I think.  She used to be so confident in herself, she didn’t care about anything but her happiness and the happiness of the people around her. She was the person who would cheer everyone else up, make us smile and laugh. She’s still that person, that’s the one that we see everyday. But she never learnt how to grieve or how to let other people cheer her up and this is what happened because of it.”

Ingrid was quiet for a few moments, her eyes focussed on Mapi’s sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful, her golden brown hair falling over her face, completely covering her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. 

“Why didn’t you help her?���

She knew it wasn’t Alexia’s fault; she knew that the midfielder beside her would have done whatever she thought was right. But part of the Norwegian thought that if she had learned what to do with her emotions two years ago when Luis died, everything would be easier now. Everything would be easier for everyone. 

“She just wouldn’t let us. I regret it every day, Ingrid. ”

~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Alexia left, leaving Ingrid with a sleeping Mapi and taking the almost two year old back to her house with her. 

They didn’t want Isabel to be able to understand what was going on, they didn’t want her to feel those sad emotions when she was entirely incapable of understanding why she suddenly felt so sad. 

So it was Ingrid’s face that Mapi woke up to, the familiar green piercing straight through her, a sad expression all over her face. 

“Ingrid.”

Her voice was hoarse, her words scratchy and her eyes swollen. It had been a difficult few hours and she felt entirely incapable of having the conversation that she knew Ingrid wanted to have. 

“I don’t know how… how do I even start?”

But it seemed she was wrong as Ingrid shook her head, her arms wrapping the Spaniard up in a tight hug as she sat up from her horizontal position. 

“No, you don’t need to. Not right now. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally and I don’t want to talk now. I want you to be ok, I want to make you feel ok.”

Mapi didn’t know it, but the Norwegian’s words were exactly what she needed. Ingrid was exactly what she needed. 

Her emotional perception, the unique ability she had to be so aware of how everyone felt at any given time. It was one of her qualities that Mapi loved the most, one of the things that was so intriguing, so alluring about the defender. 

“What can I do to make you feel ok?”

Mapi smiled weakly, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It wasn’t just sadness this time, but gratitude, love. Because Ingrid was perfect even when the centre back knew she had been the opposite of that. And despite all of Mapi’s own personal flaws, Ingrid still loved her. 

And if everything else fell apart, Mapi knew that her love would be more than enough. 

“You being here makes me feel ok.”

Ingrid smiled into the embrace, only releasing the hug when Mapi’s grip on her loosened. 

“Isabel is at Alexia’s and she will be there all night. She shouldn’t be in this environment when you are so upset, not when she’s so young. So it’s just you and me, whatever you want to do.”

Mapi nodded easily, somewhat relieved that her daughter was away from all this. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

The evening was a slow one, relaxed and quiet in the calm apartment. They weaved around each other in the kitchen as they cooked with a practised ease, dinner cooked and plated up seamlessly. 

Conversation as they ate was minimal, the Spaniard clearly distracted and the Norwegian happy to focus on her own food. 

“I… I need to talk to you, Ingrid. Not right now, but soon. Maybe tomorrow. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say in a way that makes sense. It’s… hard for me, hard to talk about… it.”

The Norwegian’s attention was captured at the sound of Mapi’s voice, instantly nodding with a comforting smile on her face. 

“I know it’s hard. I don’t want you to feel any pressure to tell me anything.”

But the Spaniard disagreed, shaking her head quickly. 

“It’s not pressure, I want you to know everything.”

Ingrid’s forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowned. 

“But why? Why do you want to go through it all again with yet another person if you don’t have to?”

It was Mapi’s turn to frown, her head shaking as she let out a quiet exhale. 

“I haven’t ever gone through everything with anyone. Alexia knows a lot, sure. I know she’s told you what she knows. I want you to know everything. Because I love you more than anything and for you to love me like that you have to know everything, you have to see all my faults, everything that I’m ashamed of.”

Ingrid stopped the tears from forming before they had a chance to materialise in her eyes, but Mapi could tell she was stopping herself from crying by the way her eyes blinked away the invisible tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice was incredibly soft, her Spanish lilt calming, comforting.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change the way I love you. I couldn’t love you any more than I do and there’s nothing that will ever make me love you any less. I wish you would understand that sadness and grief isn’t a weakness or a fault, it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s natural yet it takes a completely different path in every single person. You’re not different, Maria. You’re not weak. The opposite of weak, really. I love you for who you are, because you are funny, you’re kind, you’re caring. You look after people and you’re an incredible mother. I love you because you are strong, one of the strongest people I have ever met. The love I have for you is not… despite anything, there’s nothing that I would change because you’re perfect. So sure, tell me everything because I will listen but it will not change a single thing. Don’t tell me that I can’t love you before I know because I do, so much.”

“Thank you.” Mapi sniffled, her voice thready as she nodded at Ingrid, her eyes dropping back down to her plate in front of her. 

It was exactly what she needed to hear. 

~~~~~~

“Mami!” 

Despite Ingrid’s protests in the kitchen, Isabel bounded into their bedroom, bouncing up onto the bed right beside a sleeping Mapi. 

“Isabel! I said not to wake her up!” 

Ingrid frowned from her spot at the bedroom door, her forehead creasing further at Isabel’s defiant expression. The toddler turned back towards Mapi, shaking her shoulder rapidly. 

“Mami! Mami!” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes, releasing a loud sigh and shaking her head as the Spaniard rolled over, groaning as she opened her eyes. 

The past few days had been rough and Ingrid was sure Mapi hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep each day. The Norwegian was awoken constantly by the sound of her cries or her restless movements in the bed, but had stopped asking if she was ok after seeing the guilt on Mapi’s face at waking her up. 

It was an obvious question anyway, Mapi clearly was not ok.

She had been distant, often unfocused. The Norwegian had to take over the parenting ropes and she hadn’t left the Spaniard’s apartment, helping with cooking and cleaning and the other mundane housework that Mapi just didn’t have the energy to do. 

She would say a few words over meals, and quiet murmurs of gratitude throughout the day. Ingrid didn’t know how rapidly her notes app was filling up, full of dot points about how and what she would say to Ingrid. When she could bring up that conversation that she was so desperate yet so hesitant to have. 

“Morning Is.” The Spaniard rolled over, opening her arms up for the toddler as she fell into them, snuggling easily into her mother. 

“Mornin’ Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, looking over at Ingrid in the doorway and motioning for her to come and join them on the bed. Naturally, the Norwegian moved towards them, sitting up beside Mapi and resting her head on the centre back’s shoulder. 

“We were awake very early this morning, weren’t we Is?’

She rolled her eyes as the child nodded and Mapi bit back a laugh, squeezing Isabel softly. 

“You should have woken me.” Mapi smiled, planting a kiss on the side of Ingrid’s head, ignoring her scoff. 

“Ingrid said don’t wake you up, Mami!” Isabel interjected again, looking up at her mother. “But I missed you!” 

Mapi could only chuckle, planting a kiss on her child’s head. “I missed you too, my Is!”

It was a slow day, but one full of quiet laughter and happiness. The small family of three spent the late morning hours in bed, before getting up and heading down to the park and tiring the toddler out. She was exhausted by the time they got back, passing out on the sofa as Ingrid took off her shoes and Mapi scrubbed the mud out of her jacket. 

The girl had been put to bed by the time Mapi had returned from the laundry, Ingrid sat on the sofa with the remote in her hand. 

“What do you want to watch?”

She had heard Mapi walking towards the lounge room, apparently. The Spaniard didn’t enter immediately, instead steadying herself on the doorframe and taking a deep breath. 

The time had come, she realised. She couldn’t justify pushing this conversation away any longer, pretending that she wasn’t thinking about it when truthfully it was at the top of her mind at all times. 

She knew it wasn’t an easy conversation to have and she knew that it was going to be hard to bring it up. But that difficulty won’t ever go away, no matter how long she leaves it. If anything it will get harder over time because time gives her fears and anxieties an opportunity to grow, an opportunity to overcome her. 

And she was completely adamant that that would not happen. She would not be overcome by those terrors ever again. 

She realised she had paused in the doorway for too long when Ingrid turned around, a small frown settling on her face. 

“Are you ok?”

Mapi nodded, forcing a stressed smile onto her face and finally taking those steps inside, sitting herself on the sofa beside Ingrid and taking the remote from her hands. 

“Yes. No, but.. Yeah.” 

“Talk to me.”

And she did. She started at the beginning, all the way back when she was a small child and meeting Luis for the first time. She told Ingrid how they had been glued to each other’s sides forever, how they grew up and nothing ever changed. How grateful she was when Luis followed her to Barcelona, moving into his own apartment just a five minute walk away. 

The Spaniard reminisced on times where they would eat dinner on the floor of his unfinished apartment, takeaway boxes empty but the room still full of happiness and laughter. She showed Ingrid her tattoo, the little girl and boy on the playground that she had gotten to match with Luis. 

It was his first and only tattoo and he had only trusted Mapi to give it to him. She knew she had to get one the same and it was something they had treasured. A secret of sorts, a little thing that almost nobody knew about. 

The centre back explained how he had always been a paternal person, all the way back when they were those little kids on the playground. He would look out for everyone, act all big and strong to protect his friends even when he felt equally as terrified. He was the person that everyone went to as they got a bit older, his emotional nature and calm demeanour always popular among their peers. 

She told Ingrid that she always felt so lucky that even though he was so popular, she was still his best friend. She was always his number one and that only ever changed when Isabel came along. 

Isabel who was just as lovely as her boyfriend, another person that Mapi learned to love. 

Another person who proved time and time again that she was a mother. 

So she lamented on the heartbreak that the young couple experienced when they realised they couldn’t have a child, that parenthood seemed almost impossible. 

She explained her entire thought process to the Norwegian, how she debated with herself whether it was worth it to miss so much football during what could have been her peak years. Whether she would ever feel comfortable around a child that was half of her DNA, a child that she carried for nine months but technically didn’t belong to her. 

But Luis’ happiness was always the most important thing and when he rang her up for the 10th night in a row in tears, her decision was made for her. 

She told Ingrid how long it took to convince the couple to let her carry their child, having to go through the same arguments that she had with herself only weeks earlier, having to come up with rebuttals to their incredibly valid points. 

But it had only taken an emotional monologue from the Spaniard to convince them, all three of them sat in tears as they finally agreed to it. 

She talked her through the IVF process, every high and every low that she experienced. How easy the pregnancy was at the beginning, the only symptom her small bump and minor cravings. 

But she had Luis and she had Isabel at that point, both of them so incredibly grateful that they practically waited on the centre back’s hand and foot. It annoyed her, really, so she had kicked them out of her apartment, told them to only come over if she called them. 

For the most part, they respected that, only visiting once a week unless Mapi called them for the company. 

She admitted how much she regretted that deal, how she wished that she made them sit with her all day every day. 

Maybe then they wouldn’t have been in the car that day, maybe they would have been safe and sound in Mapi’s apartment. 

She couldn’t have known that their trip to Madrid would be fatal, there was no way of being able to foresee that and to stop them from going. 

Tears started to slip down her cheeks as she recalled what they told her over the phone, how both Isabel and Luis had been killed on impact. A drunk driver, it was, a drunk driver who was miraculously left unscathed. 

She talked Ingrid through her thoughts that followed the phone call, after she had sobbed and screamed. Once the tears had finally ceased and an unsettling silence fell upon her apartment. 

She felt lost, she felt alone. She wanted to call Luis because he was the person that made her feel better in these times, he was her company when it felt like her entire world was falling apart. 

But of course she couldn’t call Luis. She should have called someone else, her mother, her brother. Alexia, even. But that would be replacing her best friend, something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Not so soon after he had died. Not when the wound was so fresh, not before she even got the chance to process it. 

She admitted to her girlfriend that she still hadn’t really processed it, that it was still a work in progress. His death was one she would never understand, she didn’t think she ever would fully process the idea that he was gone. 

Ingrid let tears spill from her eyes as Mapi remembered how lonely she was for the next few weeks, how she realised that now she had this child that she was just supposed to be able to raise. How she felt entirely unprepared, unfit to be a mother, unequipped to be able to raise a child to a standard that Luis would be happy with. 

How she doubted herself even before Isabel was born.

When she gave birth it got so much harder, everything seemed so impossible and she couldn’t think about anything else other than that little life in her arms. 

She had fallen in love with the baby immediately, guilt overcoming her at her selfish gratitude that Isabel was a living reminder of Luis, she was someone that Mapi would always have. A living being that literally carried her father around with her. 

She told Ingrid how she saw his eyes as soon as they opened, the tape over her shattered heart doing little to protect it when it was forcefully thrown back on the ground at the reminder of everything she had lost. 

But as she spent more and more time with Isabel, as she watched the little girl grow up she could feel her heart building itself back together, little pieces at a time supergluing themselves together, creating an indestructible structure. 

Isabel had been the reason her heart was being fixed, the reason that she felt like she could finally breathe again, finally reunited with the organ that pumped the blood around her body, the organ that made her feel alive. 

She smiled through the tears as she recalled how alive she felt when Isabel took her first steps, when her first words tumbled right out of her mouth. As the child laughed, as she played with the cat. As she grew up into a child, something for Mapi to love, to be so incredibly proud of. 

Because Luis was gone and that was something that Mapi would never be ok with. 

But he left her the greatest gift of all time, like he knew that his best friend wouldn’t be ok without him. 

And similar to everything else he had done for Mapi through their lives, this gift, his daughter, had made sure that the blood never stopped pumping, that every single fragment of her shattered heart was still there, ready and waiting for its turn to be glued back into place. 

Isabel had done a good job of orchestrating the reconstruction, even if she had no idea what she was doing. 

“But then you came along, Ingrid, and you fixed my heart too.”

~~~~~~

alright this was very long

i've proofread a couple times and kinda hate this but it's as good as it will get :)

please let me know what you think! send me anything else you would like to see as well.

and i apologise for this taking so long, i have been very busy with uni (as usual) but on top of that i had surgery on my knee almost a week ago so am very tired and in a fair amount of pain at the minute

have a good day

[kingcael]

Follow up question about Downfall piece-

Can you take us through how you developed the composition? This question extends a bit to the Calamity piece (and other non-CR pieces).

How do you approach a very structured composition while maintaining the organic shapes that make up the forms?

and

How do you balance and maintain character personalities when (theoretically) you have so many choices dictated by composition?

For both the Calamity and Downfall pieces the key to the composition was firstly character relationship, and then character personality afterwards. Knowing the way the characters interact informs the placement of them in a multi person composition like this.

In the Calamity piece, it’s littered with all kinds of parallel and perpendicular lines in the composition to show both the unification of the Ring of Brass, and then the internal conflicts that arise. Laerryn and Loquatious’ relationship is one of my fav part of this one, with Loquatious emulating a fallen angel, a Fey in love with a mortal, and Laerryn looking forward with ambition while still reaching back to his heart.

In the Downfall piece there’s less obvious alignment since their relationships were much more tumultuous, but with a lot more interaction between them, the Arch Heart is the most detached as I felt his perceptions were the most isolated among the family. Trist holding both Ayden and the Emissary in a motherly way is one of my favourite parts. In this one I tried to make them more merged together, the Calamity piece has the characters more separate and realised, where the Downfall piece has them more fused together with less obvious edges.

In terms of this type of character and composition study, it really speaks to my natural inclination of art, I’ve been told before my subjects are static and frozen but my shadows are alive, and I’ve pretty much leaned into it, freezing the interactions into a single image to observe while have subtle nods to personalities of character. When doing a big piece with the characters frozen and representing themselves to the fullest degree, even the slightest change like a hand on a shoulder or the tilt of the head can inform a lot about the character while also strengthening the composition.

In bare bones composition terms I do love the triangle, especially for these big group shots, I also try to not have any characters head be exactly at the same height as another’s, unless they’re completely aligned in thoughts, which is why Trist and Ayden are so close. I also do a lot of eye tracking checks, like taking special care to notice what path my eyes take and if it remains consistent upon every viewing, zooming out is very good for this. I control the eye tracking in a fairly apparent way, face to arm to hand/object is usually the path, notably Nydas’ sword in the Calamity picture leads directly from his conflict with Zerxus to Laerryn, and her hand leads to Loquatious.

Haha I do go on

[drdemonprince]

hey, so this is super random and I’m not sure if you have thought about this but figured I’d ask: (came to my mind after reading your story in *unmasking* about intervening in street harassment)

I’m audhd and it really affects my sensory processing, social/ situational awareness etc since it’s hard for me to discern which stimuli are important in any given situation. I’m also realizing that I never really feel unsafe as a single woman in a dense city environment, even when my friends feel unsafe. Makes it hard to trust my own intuition about that kinda stuff since everyone I know apart from myself has that experience.

Question is, do you happen to have any info/ best practices about situational awareness and judging the danger of potentially sketchy situations? Walking around the city at night, creepy rural gas station, online hookup, greyhound bus alone etc.

Everything online says “trust your intuition” but my intuition always says “ehh it’ll be fine” lol.

The truth is, it usually WILL be fine. Most people's *~magical crime and danger intuition~* is a combination of true crime slop, inaccurate media coverage of the crime rate inflating their anxieties, and classism and racism. The vast majority of crimes are not committed by random strangers lurking in the dark, but between individuals who know one another and in circumstances that are at least somewhat explicable, and so you do not need magic empath powers to determine if you will be safe somewhere or not.

The way you keep relatively safe is by informing yourself of the facts, not the hype -- look up the actual crime statistics for your area, for example, though be highly skeptical of them. These figures are collected by the police state and we cannot trust them to define what safety or unsafety even IS, as they are the source of the danger for the majority of us. What they classify as crime and where they bother to enforce crime is highly skewed, and itself can create massive misapprehensions. So make sure to also speak with people in the communities you are visiting about what happens to them and the general vibe. Also spend a lot of time out in your community yourself, observing things, talking to people, hanging out, maybe volunteering, and learning the lay of the land. You'll have more people around to help you if you ever need it, and you'll find more occasions where your help is needed, too!

Follow some basic, common sense advice to avoid making oneself especially vulnerable, but don't over-isolate yourself. Things like keeping one earbud out of your ear when walking home alone at night and not keeping a purse open on the train are always sensible maneuvers; carrying pepper spray or a gun that will more likely be used to harm you is not. Learn how to de-escalate people if you don't already know -- acting calm, making your posture non-threatening but confident, moving slowly and predictably, avoiding provocative eye contact, changing the subject of conversation, engaging a victim of harassment and pretending to know them in order to drag them away from a bad situation, etc. These things will be helpful to you if a situation arises, and the more prepared you feel, the less anxious you ever have to be.

Honestly, moving through the world with a "this feels fine / seems fine" energy is ITSELF massively protective. I have ALWAYS walked around alone at night, even when I was a small 18 year old "girl," including in areas where the majority of women of my then-demographic would have not felt "safe" going out on their own. By and large, I was completely fine. People really don't want to mess with you if you seem like you have a handle on your shit and are not afraid of them.

The worst that ever happened to me was a guy grabbing my tit -- in broad daylight on a sunday on a train packed full of people. It really couldn't have been avoided. And a guy flashing me -- again in midday in a family oriented neighborhood many would deem safe. I survived these things, and I defended myself by getting aggressive with the guys who did them, and physically attacking them, which scared them off. I'm glad I did what I did, and I'm glad I wasn't so intimidated by the possibility of scary stranger danger that I kept myself sequestered away.

The few other times anyone made me uncomfortable, it was things like leering comments or walking alongside me for a block, hitting on me (sometimes, yes, late at night), but because I was able to be assertive, unbothered, and stand my ground, the guys always gave up or were scared off (by me). And this reaction from me is one I largely credit to having no instinctual "stranger danger" crime intuition of the sort most white women are conditioned to have.

In short, I think your instincts might be more accurate to reality than your friends' are. It's good to look around and pay attention to things, to learn to recognize patterns, to study one's area, to speak to people in your community and know what's going on, and to prepare oneself for hard situations, which WILL happen to you sometimes no matter what you do. but the world is rarely as scary as it's made out to be.

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[desertfangs]

Five Times Daniel and Marius Almost Kissed And One Time They Did [AO3]

Marius/Daniel - Mature - 6,254 words

Last September, I wrote Five Times Daniel and Armand Almost Kissed During the Chase Years & One Time They Did and to be honest, it's one of the fics I'm most proud of (it's definitely one of the best fics I've written in recent years). So I thought it'd be fun to do another one this year, this time for Marius and Daniel, who are taking up a lot of space in my mind.

One thing we don't get much of in canon is how Marius and Daniel really come together, and how their relationship evolves, so it seemed the perfect thing to explore in this way. And since 5 + 1 is a @vamptember prompt, what better day to post it!

Short Excerpt:

Daniel was a beautiful boy, there was no denying that. Soft, short blond hair, a youthful face, intense violet eyes. Armand had an eye for beauty and Daniel was no exception. 

But the boy was distractible, often stopping mid-sentence to stare at the wallpaper or watch the curtains dance in the breeze. One time Daniel agreed to walk Marius down to the public dock so he could see the large ferry boat that brought tourists over from Miami and the boy stopped dead in the middle of the path to watch a palm tree sway.

Daniel was also in near constant motion, dancing to some invisible beat or moving his hands around as if unsure what to do with them. He held his forefinger and middle finger out in front of him sometimes, as if holding an invisible cigarette. He laughed at the way the wind ran through his short ashen hair and the sounds that the seals made off shore. 

He spoke quickly and sometimes thoughtlessly, and Armand would put a gentle warning hand on Daniel’s arm if he said something out of turn, which would garner him a curious look from his fledgling, who had probably been too busy talking to realize he’d perhaps crossed a line. 

Despite that, Daniel was a good listener. He would happily sit while Marius talked all night, only interjecting to offer an insightful thought or ask a clever question. He held a burning curiosity and a desire to know everything, qualities Marius admired. 

True, he was a bit frenetic, but he was simply new in the blood and a young man of the modern age, with a temperament more common in this time: casual, a little careless, and easily sidetracked. 

One night, after Armand had declined to come to the mainland with him—something about Louis having gone somewhere and Armand wanting to find Lestat—Marius asked Daniel, who was sitting in one of the Villa’s many parlors wearing headphones and listening to records.

Daniel seemed surprised at the invitation but accepted immediately, standing so fast he tore the headphone cord out of the record player, and then looked abashed, a faint pink color tinting his cheeks. He set the headphones carefully on the chair and then smiled at Marius. He had a beautiful smile, beseeching and charming. Yes, Marius could see why this young man had captured Armand’s heart. 

Read the Rest on AO3

[pharmacity-weekly]

THE PHARMACITY WEEKLY- FIRST EDITION- 9/23/2024

The first edition of the Pharmacity Weekly is here! For those of you who may not know, Pharmacity weekly is a weekly newsletter summing up the events of the project SEKAI pharmacy community. Inspired by @daily-vitamin-ena and the many other blogs that have popped up surrounding her, this paper's goal is to bring the entire pharmacity together! Thank you all for the MAJOR support this past week, I genuinely wasn't expecting so many people to enjoy this so early on, otherwise I would’ve polished things up here before going around, haha.. You can read more about the blog here! So, without further ado, here’s your FIRST PAPER!

PHARMACITY IS BOOMING-

The pharmacity is in full swing, and whilst many are on hiatus, lore is still coming left and right! Currently, we have Vitahona and their group reuniting for better or worse!! Vitasaki and the mysterious person + SakiAI, Vitaairi giving us the truth, and Vitan seems to have us going through quite the rollercoaster, with what's presumably anon passing out or dreaming constantly. I will be covering different lore every week, so please don’t be afraid to check out the lore threads to catch up! @daily-vitamin-tenma-siblings has made a community discord server! Linked here !! There's lots of silly things going on, it’s also open to both audience and pharmacity mods~

NEW PHARMACITIES-

new to the pharmacity? Pop into our asks and we’ll try to boost ya!

There’s only 2 new pharmacies as I’m aware of this week, which are- @vitalapis-daily and @daily-sekai-rin-vitamins ! Everyone welcome both Fumi and Pharmacist Adi <3 ____________________________________

LORE IN DEPTH-

Keep in mind that this bit of the newspaper will almost always have SOME guessing. The lore wouldn’t be Pharmacity lore without its ominous secrecy, after all..

Anywho. VitaAiri ( @daily-vitamin-airi ) seems to have us in quite the pickle! What were those memories, no one is quite sure yet. But, it seems anon has returned to taking their daily Vitairis consistently, for better or worse. Memories of hers seem to linger.. or are they ours?

VitAn ( @daily-vitamin-an ) seems to have anon passing out often, dreams floating them to places they really shouldn’t be.. they’d like to tell Anthea, but what exactly, the audience hasn’t decided. Their last lore post was an open ended question, maybe if anon answers a certain way in the reblogs or asks, we’ll get more info.

VitaHona ( @daily-vitamin-honami ) has dumped so much fucking lore on 22/9/24 10:48 MST that the summary would not do it justice. Mod bee will post that summary when she can because. how the fuck am i supposed to summarize lore that started FEBUARY 2023. YOU INSANE BITCH/LH

And of course, let’s not forget!

VitaSaki ( @semidaily-vitaminsaki ) whose lore arc seems to have recently began this month~! A missing Saki Tenma found in a computer, her AI an almost perfect version of her, and of course the mysterious person getting… no asks? Cmon guys, I thought we were after the mystery here! Even if the audience isn’t sure about trusting them, it’s still worth trying to ask both rather than one or the other~! Let’s go looking for some answers in those asks yall, chop chop!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

PAPER UPDATES-

Temporary section of the newspaper~! This’ll be a quick section that lets yall know how far I am on threads like lore or theories, as well as any huge changes to the blog!

MODERATOR SITUATION-

I (mod bee) have successfully dragged an irl into the pharmacity~! She'll be helping me run the blog overall, and our oc lores may intertwine a bit~ She also runs @vitalapis-daily , so be sure to follow that if you'd like to peek into her lore!

LORE THREADS-

Mod bee got VitAiri confirmed updated, and I just need to go through and make the buttons. Thank god VitaAiri’s Pharmacist wasn’t too vague this time, otherwise my work would be cut out for me!

Next in my lore queue is:

VitaHona (drafted, unfinished though)

VitaNene (not started)

Tenmamins (not started)

VitaSaki (not started)

VitaRui (not started)

These are blogs/accounts mod bee will be at least LOOKING into lore for. Each blog will have their own doc that’ll be sent to their respective mod(s) and checked for accuracy, as well as asked if they’d like to keep reentry or sideblog posts!

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

END OF PAPER! Thank you all for the support once again!!! We'll see you all on the next edition~ - Akko and Fumi!

Have questions or suggestions? Send em over in our asks!

[l0stfoster]

You already know who it is, back on my bullshit 👉👉 not here for paul this time (SHOCKING)

So , darry. Darrel Curtis. My boy my baby. I just have like ,, general things i want to know more about so bare with me bc hes my fav alongside paul ofc and i can ramble

1. When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

2. Ik his powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control ?

3. Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isnt real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if i had that power id be scared to mfing death

4. Goddammit im mentioning paul again sorry but ik darry calls paul pretty boy (heart hands i love that) but does paul call darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

5. Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before him and paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt paul holden then to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

Okay thats all for now b4 i go literally insane but i may be back bc i have questions abt other couples 😼😼😼

You’re so fucking real for the Darry enjoyment too I also adore him he’s such a guy. Both in canon and in the au, I need to kiss him on the forehead. DARRY YAP TIME (Crow will be so joyous)

Timewing got really excited about this one so a lot of the answers are his, I just added on afterward with my thoughts, so the first bullet point will be hers, and the second one is mine!!

When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

- I assume he tried to crush it or break it violently enough that it needed to be amputated. One way of the latter reason probably would've been falling off the roof of the house back first. One way of the former reason is heading out to a field and trying to slam a hay bale on it. - I personally like to think he'd gone far enough to get his hands on a spare tire from their father's truck and,, crunch! It was the only way he could think of doing enough damage while getting away with it since the car had issues enough to need active little fixes and tweaks, including tire changes. He was around 17 or 18 during all of this, by the way. Unlike his ears, this isn't one his family knows was purposeful.

His powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control?

- There are so many instances but it happens more so when he's stressed. There were a few situations where during tests during school he accidentally ended up making an entire class of 20+ students so anxious a few were sent home and a couple jocks had panic attacks. Another instance was (using the musical for this) when he and Soda were brought in to be asked abt Pony's whereabouts and he got so pissed off with the questioning that he also heightened the officer's anger and nearly got himself arrested. Also the rumble. I think that speaks for itself. - A couple other instances I can think of are after their parents died, when Dally got shot, and uh. The entirety of the duration that Pony was gone, though that was mostly him heightening his own distraught compared to anyone else. He probably does it every now and then at work too during rough work days, which makes for some interesting occurences.

Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isn't real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if I had that power I'd be scared to mfing death.

- Absolutely. He stresses abt it every second of every minute of every hour of every day. - A little fact that Darry doesn't know, though, is that after Paul's powers are presented he has a level of resistance to certain types of curse-related powers! He's not immune, per se, but Darry's manipulation, Soda's song, and Johnny's death sense are all a little lowered; this is because he's in the direct bloodline of the witch who cursed Tulsa. In the way that Johnny can't see Paul's death date (but can get flashes of it), Soda's siren song is easier for Paul to break himself out of and he can tolerate Darry's manipulation for a little longer before caving into it. Parry fans can rest easy knowing that Paul's love for Darry is 100% genuine. Unfortunately, Darry does not know that </3

Goddammit Im mentioning Paul again sorry but ik Darry calls Paul pretty boy (heart hands I love that) but does Paul call Darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

- It's mostly the Latin nicknames that get him. He may not know what the hell Paul is saying but he's in love with it anyway. But he's also especially fond of being called the ever so typical "sugar" - Yeah it's just a bunch of Latin and then the usually sappy ones. Darling, Doll, etc. Paul hits him with “Optimum accidit mihi” ("The best thing to happen to me") once and Darry would actually fold if he knew it.

Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before he and Paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after Paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt Paul Holden than to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

- I imagine maybe once but there was also when he went hunting for Two's stolen feathers and was... scary. He's a scary dude, no one wants to mess with a fae that has that much muscle and is probably not afraid to bite you. - I also agree that,, yyyyeah, Darry is arguably one of the greasers to get jumped the least, including post-book. He works a lot too, so it's not like there are many open instances for him to walk around. Darry definitely told Paul any weaknesses that did exist, but I like to imagine Paul kept those real tight to his chest- He absolutely used them himself during their time hating each other, but could never get himself to tell the other socs; it was a level of trust he couldn't bring himself to break, especially since Darry had seen and heard his own share of things from Paul that he never spilled. The Socs also didn't know that Darry was what Paul valued the most; sure, Paul was very clearly into him, buuuut they make their own assumptions regarding his sexuality and how things go relating to it-

-I could definitely imagine a scenario where they attempt to sabotage Darry and Paul's relationship out of spite if they knew how dedicated Paul is.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

I have no other place to yap this to so I apologise in advance.

I find it interesting in Alhaitham and Kaveh’s voicelines they tend to talk about each other A LOT in a way of complaining. Such as in Alhaitham’s Good night voiceline where he says that he’d prefer that Kaveh wouldn’t be home at all because all the chaos and noise he makes in the dead of the night. Or in Kaveh’s Good Morning voiceline where he says that he hopes that you don't run into someone who ruins your day first thing in the morning.

I guess it’s what makes other people think that they despise each other’s company. Yet they’re always viewed as a pair and Alhaitham could’ve kicked Kaveh out of the house ages ago. But what’s your opinion on that?

Hiya! there's no need to apologise, this is a safe space for all haikaveh! When I tell you your ask is scratching my brain I mean ITCHING, I have so many thoughts about this part of their dynamic so thank you for enabling me <3 This turned out to be rather long, so I hope it’s helpful to you!

The contention in both Alhaitham and Kaveh’s character stories and voice lines seems to be to create intrigue about the two as individuals, and, in turn, their relationship.

Alhaitham’s ‘good night’ voice line instantly serves as a contradiction to his character. It’s interesting, and telling, that Alhaitham, who is essentially Kaveh’s landlord, and mentions this within his fourth character story, alludes to Kaveh by using ‘roommate’ rather than ‘tenant’. ‘Landlord’ evokes a position of authority over the tenant, whereas ‘roommate’ indicates an equality between two people sharing a house – since it’s Alhaitham who advocates for the term ‘roommate’, it’s telling that, as opposed to what Kaveh believes, Alhaitham wants to establish equality between them.

In terms of what Alhaitham says in this voice line, it explicitly raises a contradiction in the form of a question: if Alhaitham is truly bothered by his roommate’s antics, why doesn’t he simply evict Kaveh?

This is relevant as this question is also posed when we initially meet Kaveh within the Archon Quest, as Kaveh states he dislikes Alhaitham’s personality, to which Alhaitham responds by saying if he bothers Kaveh so much, Kaveh always has the option to move out of the house – to which Kaveh perceives as a threat, only to then dismiss this as Alhaitham ‘changing the subject’, which seems to mean that this ‘threat’ is taken as baseless. As this isn’t called back to, this seems to be the case.

There is no real threat of eviction, and regardless of their disputes, Alhaitham ultimately gives Kaveh no ultimatum to move out. In fact, as discussed here (page 27), as we are meeting Alhaitham and Kaveh for the first time, Alhaitham allowing Kaveh to live with him contradicts his established character of living a life free of inconvenience. This instantly creates intrigue around his and Kaveh’s dynamic – who is Kaveh to Alhaitham for this exception to be made to Alhaitham’s peaceful way of life?

(An additional note of interest is that Alhaitham’s solution to the noise problem seems to be more uncomfortable than calling on Kaveh and telling him to stop his work. Alhaitham says that he’d rather not wear his noise-cancelling earpieces to bed, implying that he does so when noise is a problem at night. However, there’s no mention of Kaveh being stubborn when confronting this issue, which is why he takes to wearing his ear pieces, or any mention of confrontation at all. From this voice-line, it seems that Alhaitham avoids interaction by opting for the least comfortable option, which can be a contradiction to his character. As this is a rather brief voice-line, it’s difficult to ascertain why, but I like the idea that Kaveh is productive at night, and Alhaitham prefers not to impose on Kaveh’s work process – but this is more a headcanon than evidenced interpretation.)

Returning back to the contradiction within this voice-line, at a surface glance, this does appear to be a general complaint about Kaveh, and this can be found in Alhaitham’s lines about Kaveh, and also when discussing Tighnari. Alhaitham refers to Kaveh as ‘overly sensitive’, and ‘constantly making a fuss’.

These can easily read solely as complaints, but when looking to the original CN translation, another interpretation can be found here. Alhaitham describes Kaveh as ‘caring’ or ‘tender’, which is exactly how Kaveh is described within the 3.6 special program (as per minimushiroom on twt), which can allude to how Kaveh is considerate to a fault, in that this serves as a detriment to himself.

This can be seen in Alhaitham’s other Kaveh-centred voice-line, in which he describes Kaveh buying keychains in order to provide meals for sick children, even though healthcare is free in Sumeru. Alhaitham clearly holds the view that this was a redundant action, as Kaveh, being in debt, most likely doesn’t have the money to spend on such investments that are, evidently, dubious.

As Alhaitham provides a rational view here, this contrasts with Kaveh’s act of generosity fuelled by emotion – which highlights the contention Alhaitham has with Kaveh, in that Kaveh places himself in dangerous situations for the sake of others. However, as this can be perceived as a solely derisive line, this essential context is lacking, and can be easily misconstrued. (I think the EN translation here also coincides with this narrative, as minimushiroom notes that the original CN has Alhaitham refer to Kaveh’s sensitivity in a positive way, rather than contemptuously, as the English can be interpreted as.)

Kaveh, similarly, can be seen to complain about Alhaitham in his own voice-lines. This can be seen in the 'Good Morning' voice-line you've mentioned, where Kaveh complains about having to see Alhaitham in the morning, which 'ruins' his day. Additionally, Kaveh's voice-lines discussing Alhaitham refer to Alhaitham as ‘infuriating’ and not wanting to give Alhaitham the satisfaction of thanking him, despite Alhaitham helping him out. However, there is more nuance in these voice-lines than Kaveh simply ‘disliking’ Alhaitham, as this dislike is never stated - rather that he and Alhaitham have a difficult relationship in comparison to the ‘close’ friendship of their past.

Kaveh describes their relationship being a ‘mixed bag’, of both negatives and positives, as well as establishing a thorough understanding of Alhaitham, where other people may misinterpret Alhaitham as they ‘don’t know him well enough’. Additionally, Kaveh notes that he knows that Alhaitham can present himself in a more ‘likeable’ manner, but that Alhaitham refuses to do so, which refers to Kaveh’s contention with Alhaitham discussed within his character stories. This, in turn, generates curiosity, as it appears that Kaveh holds an in-depth knowledge of Alhaitham that the player isn’t privy to.

Referring back to Alhaitham’s ‘Good Night’ voiceline, the question raised is, if Alhaitham has a problem with Kaveh, why doesn’t he just evict Kaveh? And the answer can be found by digging further into Alhaitham’s character stories. Looking to Alhaitham’s fourth character story, it states that he is aware of the dissatisfaction Kaveh may have with their living arrangement but  that ‘it matters not to him’.

This means that he is aware that Kaveh may be unhappy with having to rely on someone else for a stable livelihood, something which his pride doesn’t naturally allow, but that this is also exacerbated due to their previous falling out and the current contentions Kaveh has with him.

At first, this can seem rather abrasive, which does fall in line with Alhaitham’s egoism as this doesn’t directly impact ‘the self’ (discussed further here), however, what immediately follows is Alhaitham’s belief that he and Kaveh are mirrors, in that his own perspective of the world will be enhanced - in the og CN, ‘completed’ -by Kaveh’s own world view.

The implication generated here with the explicit term ‘mirror’, is that, just as Alhaitham benefits from Kaveh, Kaveh, in turn, can benefit from Alhaitham. (As a side note, it is interesting then that the voice-lines in question can be seen to mirror each other – Kaveh mentions Alhaitham in ‘Good Morning’ whereas Alhaitham mentions Kaveh in ‘Good Night’.)

Returning back to Alhaitham’s character story, rather than merely reflecting each other philosophically speaking, I’d say that this also points to their respective progression as people, not just scholars.

To me, this is reminiscent of what Alhaitham says to Kaveh in A Parade of Providence – being ‘correct’, ultimately, doesn’t matter, as there is no ‘correct’ path in life, meaning that there is no ‘correct’ philosophy to shape and guide a person. Rather, Alhaitham asserts that, ultimately, their opposing philosophies are not the issue that exists between them.

The issue that does exist, then, can be surmised from Alhaitham’s actions during the event (discussed further here), in which he researches into Sachin to gauge his influence over Kaveh’s father journeying into the desert, with implicit hopes of providing closure for Kaveh, and potentially assuaging Kaveh’s guilt. This is a personal act with a personal motive; the underlying motive being concern, as opposed to an assertion of ‘correctness’.

In my opinion, I think Alhaitham’s actions during A Parade of Providence are a direct reference, and fulfilment, of Kaveh’s fifth character story. I’ve discussed here that the main reason for the ending of their friendship was them asserting the correctness of a philosophy over the other, and proposing one philosophy as the ‘solution’ to the other’s perceived flaws.

Here Alhaitham can be seen to use Kaveh’s past as the reason for his excessive altruism, implicitly referring to Kaveh’s guilt over being the supposed catalyst for his father’s demise. This final comment of Alhaitham’s appears to be the first time this has been mentioned between them, and it’s enough to be perceived as weaponisation – leading to Kaveh severing their friendship.

In A Parade of Providence, Alhaitham is shown to only have taken the role of commentator to research into Sachin, whose research we are told (by Kaveh), he has no explicit interest in, and it is heavily implied that the only reason he looked further into Sachin, was to prove to link between Sachin and Kaveh’s father. Alhaitham seems to want to absolve Kaveh of this past guilt in hopes that Kaveh will stop placing himself in the cycle of self-sabotage.

For me, when viewing this as a parallel, it highlights that Alhaitham’s motivation in speaking out during their days as students was out of concern for Kaveh, although while holding egoism as ultimately beneficial, and therefore perceivably ‘correct’. The ‘issue’ they’re currently debating is not expressly stated, and although it is unclear if Kaveh understands the implication (as discussed here), as ‘correctness’ has been overturned, there seems to be little left than the personal.

Relating this back to Alhaitham’s fourth character story, for me, Alhaitham referring to Kaveh as a mirror isn’t just referring to Kaveh as a scholar, but a person as a whole. As Alhaitham seeks to improve himself, personally, through Kaveh, it seems that he hopes to be able to benefit Kaveh in turn.

As for Kaveh’s complaints regarding Alhaitham, these can be contextualised within his own character stories. As Kaveh ultimately severed the friendship between him and Alhaitham, Alhaitham offering Kaveh to live with him, despite Kaveh revoking his previous understanding of Alhaitham (as discussed here, page 67), causes Kaveh to be overtly suspicious.

In Kaveh’s Old Sketchbook, it is mentioned that Kaveh believes there to be an ulterior motive for Alhaitham inviting him to share a house, as he believes that Alhaitham wouldn’t do something for someone else without an exchange.

Kaveh, then, openly distrusts Alhaitham due to this unspoken motive, and although he takes on chores to ease his sense of guilt of being a perceived burden, a contention arises here. Due to their previously ended friendship, and with how Alhaitham hurt Kaveh, and how Kaveh may believe he hurt Alhaitham (discussed here), Kaveh sees no reason for Alhaitham to want him around – he treats their relationship as an exchange, asking what Alhaitham could possibly want for him.

Although Alhaitham views Kaveh as a mirror, and therefore, respects Kaveh’s perspectives, Kaveh can potentially view their opposing philosophies as a negative rather than a positive as he had done in the past (as discussed here), as it, perceivably, was what led to the end of their friendship. In this, Kaveh views Alhaitham as disparaging him and his views. As mentioned in his character story, he has no reservations in telling Alhaitham of his debt as Alhaitham has already seen through him in the past, and yet again, upon meeting at the tavern.

Although Alhaitham perceivably views him unfavourably, and his comments and complaints appear to propagate this interpretation, Alhaitham also seems to have no issue with keeping Kaveh around, and interacting with Kaveh, regardless of the problems Kaveh expressly has with him.

To Kaveh, it could be that as Alhaitham has already seen the worst of him, and appears to have no real issue with their stilted rapport, there is no point in donning a front and using niceties. He is open with his issues with Alhaitham, and, in turn, Alhaitham is open with him.

This appears to be a dual negative and positive for Kaveh, as he describes Alhaitham’s constancy as ‘the most unshakable part of one's past is a friend that will never change’. In this sense, his unsteady rapport with Alhaitham is reliable, and therefore, has no reason to change.

Clearly, there is a large disconnect between Alhaitham’s view of Kaveh and how Kaveh perceives Alhaitham’s view of him. As previously mentioned in the discussion of A Parade of Providence, there is an unspoken ‘issue’ between them, and this can be interpreted as dire misconceptions borne from miscommunication.

As discussed, Kaveh and Alhaitham reference each other a lot in their respective voice-lines and their character stories. This alone is enough to connect them, regardless of the cruciality of their mirror motif, as they are key figures of each other’s past, present, and seemingly, future. Despite this, it’s as you say, there’s a common perception to view them as mutually disliking each other, and, to me, this is based upon their first initial interaction, and the way they refer to each other in their own character stories and voice-lines.

It’s notable that Alhaitham refers to Kaveh in his voice-lines when Kaveh is not explicitly relevant, such as in his Good Night voice-line, and, most interestingly, when Alhaitham discusses Tighnari.

This could be because Alhaitham knows of Tighnari through Kaveh, but as this connection isn’t stated, it reads as Alhaitham mentioning Kaveh for no other reason than to complain about his perceived naivety regarding relations with others. But as this is a voice-line designated to discussing Tighnari, it’s interesting, and incredibly noticeable, that Alhaitham then discusses Kaveh instead. It’s similar to what Kaveh can be seen to do, and is observed to do by others, in relation to discussing Alhaitham.

When it comes to Kaveh, however, his complaining of Alhaitham can be seen to link with his process of dealing with troubles in his work. In his Hangout, he states that he takes his work to heart because he cares about it, which is expressed in the same quest in which Kaveh and the Traveller run into Alhaitham in the House of Daena (discussed further here, page 219).

Drawing a parallel here can further contextualise Kaveh’s complaining of Alhaitham – if Kaveh truly disliked Alhaitham, there seems to be no reason for Alhaitham to remain so relevant to him, both in conversation, and in private thought. Additionally, Kaveh is described as an empathetic person, and when dealing with others, he is thusly seen to look for another perspective rather than act on his own subjective perspective.

Looking at his voice-line on Dori, for example, expresses his distaste for Dori pressuring him for Mora due to his debt, however, he also empathises with her, and states that he senses there must be a reason why Dori acts in such a way.

In contrast, this empathy can be perceived as missing in his treatment of Alhaitham, and therefore Kaveh complaining about Alhaitham can be perceived as blatant dislike – which contradicts Kaveh’s benevolence and empathy, which A Parade of Providence particularly stresses.

Kaveh’s treatment of Alhaitham can be seen as deliberately contradictory, as it can cause the player to question why Kaveh reacts in such a singular way to Alhaitham, just as why Alhaitham reacts in a singular way to Kaveh.

In reference to Alhaitham, whilst Alhaitham tends to complain about Kaveh in turn, his actions reveal him. He invites Kaveh to live with him, gives no eviction date, pays for Kaveh’s tabs willingly, (supposedly) buys wine as an apology, and goes out of his way to ensure dialogue with Kaveh – which contradicts his own character stories, in which he appears to favour solitude, and only greets those he considers his friends ‘with a nod or two’.

Moreover, Alhaitham is established as considering Kaveh a necessity to his ‘peaceful life’ he seeks to maintain (as discussed here), and can be seen to implicitly consider Kaveh one of his priorities within his Story Quest.

The idea that Alhaitham dislikes Kaveh seems to stem from Alhaitham being taken literally when voicing an opinion, or an issue, or simply joking, in reference to Kaveh – despite his character stories highlighting that Alhaitham often uses sarcasm in order to subvert expectations.

Alhaitham expressly states that he prefers to be seen as inscrutable, and unknown, by the general public, and uses subversion as a means to do so. In these character stories, Alhaitham openly encourages speculation of his own words.

Without this context, it seems easy to simplify Alhaitham to purely speaking factually when first addressing Kaveh in the Archon Quest – stating that having to explain things to Kaveh is ‘a nuisance’, and yet, it is overlooked that Alhaitham stays in the House of Daena, regardless, knowing Kaveh would find him again.

On the whole, in my opinion, Kaveh’s feelings towards Alhaitham cannot be simplified to ‘dislike’ as this is dually an inherent misunderstanding of his character, and of his and Alhaitham’s relationship, just as Alhaitham’s feelings towards Kaveh cannot be simplified to ‘dislike’ for this same reason.

In the beginning, Alhaitham and Kaveh are not supposed to be perceived as friendly, as Kaveh denies the association of ‘friends’, and Paimon describes them to the Traveller as ‘problematic’.

The reason for this is due to their character arcs being intertwined – the core issue is posed in Kaveh’s fifth character story, in that the question is raised if a compromise can be reached, if both sides of the mirror, can be balanced. At the beginning, they are entirely at odds, but even footing must be found.

I’ve noticed a shift in online discourse after Cyno’s second story quest, as the progression in Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship is noticeable – deliberately, due to the flashback scene within their house (which I’ve discussed in detail here, page 122). To me, it’s more common to form the assumption that Alhaitham and Kaveh dislike each other in the Archon Quest, but with recent developments, and, hopefully, future ones, this perception is being overturned in online communities. Perhaps that’s just wishful thinking, but I’m still hopeful!

[emeryhiro]

Hello!

I am new here and is feeling very overwhelmed right now with that is happening in the caryl fandom. I appreciate your insight into these characters. I am someone who has not seen Daryl Dixon season 1 and is seriously considering if I should even watch it with all that is being said about s2.

Reading all the early reviews that has dropped - I get a lot of mixed reactions to Isabelle's character. Some ppl say she was the best part about season 1 while others don't even mention here in their reviews. The caryl fandom is largely, understandably, biased against her.

I do not know anything about Isabelle and was wondering what your thoughts about her are - how she holds up as a character?

Hi Anon!!

Thank you for your question. I'm really glad you asked this question, and thank you for the kind words🥰 I'm going to do my best to properly answer and share my thoughts on all the points you've mentioned.

Firstly, welcome to the fandom!! 💖 I'm sorry you've joined at a time of so much uncertainty, but I promise that at its core, this community is a beautiful place to be. But like all communities, there is always positivity and negativity, and it's important to be careful with what's surrounding you, ensuring it's a healthy balance that works for you.

I've divided my response into several sections, as I find that to be the best way to convey my thoughts. I also wanted to be as clear as possible since this is a sensitive topic for some, and I want to try to alleviate at least some of the worries.

A mild spoiler warning for a mention of something that happens in episode 1 of season 2.

Reviews on Season 2:

I wasn't planning on reading any of the reviews for season 2, but since you asked for my thoughts, I read all the articles that I could find so that I could give you an informed response. And one thing I advise is to always take reviews with a grain of salt (this includes my thoughts as well) because, ultimately, they're all based on the writers' opinions.

What I've found with all previous seasons of TWD, especially season 1 of Daryl Dixon, was that no single review I read aligned perfectly with what I thought of the show once I watched it myself. And I know I'll say the same about season 2.

Regarding what I read in the season 2 reviews, I don't think I've actually read a single concerning line in any of the ones I've come across, and I'm pretty sure I've read every single one that has been released. There are, however, a lot of people who, out of fear or concern, focus on single lines from a review that may sound negative or worrisome when taken out of context, and ignore everything else in the review that's purely positive.

I can see many people have shared their specific thoughts on different segments of several reviews, but I won't go into my thoughts here for the sake of keeping this response reasonable short. If you're interested in a detailed post about my thoughts on the reviews in general or any in particular, let me know, and I'll share it as soon as I get a chance.

My thoughts on Isabelle:

I found Isabelle to be a fascinating character with many layers. She is unquestionably flawed and has a great mix of both positive and negative characteristics, which I think is what gives her character so much potential. She's intelligent, driven, brave, headstrong, and very protective, but she's also undeniably manipulative, which makes sense when you think of it as a self-defence mechanism that she developed during her rocky life before the apocalypse. I'm also a fan of Clémence as an actress, and I think she's a great fit for this character.

This next bit might sound a bit contrevoursial but bare with me. I've seen Isabelle get a lot of hate for being manipulative towards Daryl, even I personally hated seeing Daryl be treated that way, but it's important to remember that we've also seen Carol behave manipulatively when she's had to in the past in order to protect the people that she loves. This is something you'll see Carol do once again in episode 1 of TBOC, and when I watched it, it made me uncomfortable, but ultimetly, I could see that it made Carol uncomfortable as well; she doesn't feel any satisfaction out of what she does and is willing to carry the weight of that lie and guilt to achieve her ultimate goal of saving Daryl, the person she loves.

Even though, on the surface, it's not an admirable thing to do, we appreciate Carol so much more because of the lengths she's willing to go to for the ones she loves, and we've also seen her journey to this point, which naturally makes us love her and empathise with her.

So my point here is that I can't judge Isabelle for the same behaviour I admire in my favourite character. Just like Carol may act that way to protect Daryl (her loved one), Isabelle was doing it because she believed (to the best of her knowledge) that it was what was best for Laurent (her loved one).

However, what doesn't sit right with me about Isabelle's character is that what the showrunners and writers have been saying about her doesn't align with what I've seen on screen (this is a great example of why I try to avoid looking at unnecessary publicity). I want to love her character for who she is, flaws and all, but the inconsistency in her publicity makes me feel like there's some discrepancy behind the scenes, and that has stopped me from investing in her character and gives me slight concern for the trajectory of her arc, which has so much potential that would be incredibly tragic if wasted.

The only other thing that I would disagree with (IF the show ends up going down that path) is the negative messaging that would be given out about nuns if every surviving nun on the show is portrayed as willing to forget her vows the minute there's a man in front of them that they find interesting. I'm not catholic, but I think that it would be incredibly disrespectful towards actual nuns and the sacrifices that they make for their faith. But please don't take this as fact because I don't think this will actually ever happen. I honestly don't believe that AMC or anyone involved with the show would knowingly do something like that. I'd be happy to explain this a little further, but I don't think it's relevant if you haven't seen the first seasons.

Watching TWD: Daryl Dixon S1 & 2

My question to you would be, what draws you to TWD/TBOC? Is it Caryl itself and potential canon? And if so, do you feel that you'd be left disappointed and/or unsatisfied with the potential lack of romance between the characters in season 2? Or, do you enjoy the show for a combination of things, like the character development, world-building, cinematography, etc.?

I want to emphasise that there is no wrong answer to the above. Everyone is unique, and it's 1000% understandable and fair for each person to have unique reasons for being drawn to and loving, hating, or even being indifferent about a show.

I personally fall in the latter category; I love TWD for its rich story, action sequences, cinematography, multitude of interesting characters, and the mind-blowing ways in which they have developed over the years (the whole package of the show is exactly my cup of tea), and of course, it's no secret if anyone looks at my blog that my favourite character (BY FAR) are Carol and Daryl. I absolutely adore them for everything they are, both as individuals and what they bring out in each other and mean to each other. And if Caryl is ever canon (which I expect would happen in season 3), then that would be the cherry on top of a show I already love.

My very short review of season 1 would be that I really enjoyed it and would rank it at the top between all the other spinoff seasons we've gotten so far. However, in all honesty, I still felt and noticed the hole that was left behind in the story with the absence of Carol, but knowing that she will be returning in season 2 kind of made up for that lack in season 1. All up, I really enjoyed season 1 and have watched it several times in the last year. I'm actually currently in the middle of watching it again in preparation for season 2.

My recommendations:

If you personally fall into the former category and, as mentioned above, feel that you'd be left disappointed and/or unsatisfied with the potential lack of romance between the characters in season 2, then perhaps it's better to wait till all the episodes are released to then decide if it's something that you'd like to watch.

If you're willing to accept and are okay with the potential lack of romance between Caryl in season 2 but are concerned about and would rather not watch any potential romantic relationship develop between Daryl and Isabelle, then I'd say that you should watch the season as it releases because I honestly don't believe that something like that is a real possibility. At most, there may be hints towards one-sided feelings from Isabelle's side and maybe some confusion from Daryl's side, but untimely, it would not mean or go anywhere. I'm personally not even bothered with this worst-case scenario because it doesn't matter how many people have feelings for Daryl or how confused Daryl is because I know that once he's reunited with Carol, there won't be any more uncertainty about where his heart and loyalties truly lie. There's honestly not a single ounce of me that's concerned about this.

If you're more like me and enjoy the show as a whole, even though you may be slightly disappointed with a few accepts, then I'd highly recommend that you watch season 1 before the release of season 2 (if you have the time), because it genuinely was a good season and will give you a lot of backstory and context that would make season 2 feel so much more enjoyable and immersive.

~~~~

Thanks again for your questions!! I hope this all makes sense and that it answers your questions. As I mentioned earlier, if you'd like me to expand on my thoughts on anything in particular, please let me know, and I'd be happy to do so.

My last bit of advice is this: I know it's easier said than done, but I urge you, especially as someone who's new to the fandom, to not allow a lot of different voices and opinions to shape how you naturally feel or invalidate what you take away from watching the show (not that I think that's what you're doing but this is the general advice I wanted to give just in case🩵). It's really easy for anyone to be influenced by negativity and positivity when they find that that's all they can see from the people around them.

I personally try to focus on what I see on screen and what I hear directly from Norman and Melissa because, at the end of the day, showrunners and writers come and go, but Norman and Melissa have embodied these characters from day one and understand them more than anyone else ever could.

♡♡♡

[curio-queries]

I saw Jungkook's documentary this weekend and have just a few thoughts. If you're avoiding spoilers, don't click the cut!

The Hybe Documentary Format

So...as a reminder to you all, I do not have professional expertise in the film industry. I'm just a very discerning consumer. I also haven't seen Hobi's documentary and I watched Road to D-Day while I was quite ill last year so I only vaguely remember some bits. (I'll definitely be getting back to those sooner rather than later though as research for a series of posts I'm developing.) That being said, I think we have enough data points to state that Hybe has absolutely no interest in filmmaking techniques outside of music videos.

I did mostly enjoy my experience seeing this film yesterday and I'm always grateful for any amount of footage the members are willing to share with us but this 'documentary ' was worse than Jimin's Production Diary. Any of you that managed to make it through my rambling review will know how dissatisfied I was with that.

I Am Still is not a documentary, it's a mixture of showcase footage and behind-the-scenes clips, most of which has already been divulged in the various episodes and shooting sketches on YouTube. Honestly, if you're not able to see the film, just go rewatch all of the bangtantv content for JKs solo period and the showcase and you'll be up to speed with 85% of what was in the documentary.

There are definitely some expansions to the storylines featured in the bangtantv content; mostly being anything that wasn't overtly optimistic. For example, we learn a little bit more about just how sick JK was during the Seven/3D promotions. That content likely was pulled from the bangtantv edit because it would have put a damper on the promotions and given certain 'fans' a focus to fixate their vitriol. But overall, it feels more like an extended version of existing content rather than a new work. At least JPD didn't continually feed us footage we'd seen before.

I'm someone who gets completely bothered by previews spoiling content so I didn't watch any of the promos until after I saw it and I am so glad I skipped them because most of the 'original' scenes of the film were featured in least one of them. Alas, that's a separate issue of which I'm definitely in the minority.

Was There No Structure?

Kinda. Like JPD, there is a semblance of a structure: Attempting to follow the chronology of release activities for JKs GOLDEN album through the lens of JKs staement trying to prove that he is still worthy of everything he was being hailed as during the BTS group activities but I don't feel this was successfully executed. It jumps round enough and isn't very successful in explaining the events if you didn't already know about them. The film starts with the SEVEN performance at GMA and footage that we've already seen of JK recording SEVEN, not mentioning anything about the music video or really how JK got involved with the song in the first place. The rest of the story beats have similar missing points.

They have a vague narrative with the 'I Am Still' points but that's mostly carried by subs and a couple of moments that JK mentions himself. I'm not saying it's not true or wasn't top-of-mind for JK during this process but it's not the main point of many of the moment/messages he shared with us during this time period so it feels a little disingenuous since everything else jn this film really only makes sense if you've already seen quite a lot of behind-the-scenes content.

Honestly, it makes me question the intended audience. Obviously, they know that ARMY will shell out whatever we need to when there's new content from our members but most of us will have already seen all of the bangtantv content so we are already familiar with the most of the footage in this film. I genuinely don't think this was produced in such a way to be palatable for audiences not familiar with BTS so who does that leave? Our friends and family that are peripherally aware of the content but haven't learned the basics of JKs album? ARMY with short term memories only?

But again, it seems this film was compiled by an editing team and not lead by a director with experience in crafting a documentary. The only new footage that Ican guarantee was captured with the express purpose of being included in this film was the few clips of JK talking in the practice room with the albums displayed by him. But we all know that's where all of the promo clips were gathered as well. I have issues with that approach as well but I'll leave this point alone for now unless anyone is interested.

Suffice it to say, all of these suppositions over the past year about how JKs documentary was getting special treatment or even questioning about investment in a project up front are dead. This was a product assembled with bits of what they already had completely in-house which was sold for distribution.

So, Did We Learn NOTHING?

No, there are a few Golden nuggets (see what I did there?). I can't recall everything having only seen it once (and having a rather disruptive audience - I swear there were only dozen or so ppl in my theater but I forget how obnoxious teenagers can be. I'm glad they're enjoying and supporting but we really didn't need light sticks flashing during a film and how many times does one person need to get up to answer their phone during this runtime? Three according to the row in front of mine.)

Anyway, something I thought was interesting to learn was that Standing Next To You was initially recorded the day after JK heard it for the first time. And hearing a little more about how JK yearned to perform that song definitelygot me thinking a little more about it. We can't reach any conclusions just with this little nugget but it does open the door to some theories. Like perhaps they were initially planning to have JK record two separate albums? SEVEN and 3D would be the singles of the first and JK would perform them as we saw but perhaps STNY was originally planned to be the single of the 2nd album that would release while he was in the military and thus be unable to perform it? Maybe JK loved STNY so much that everything was grouped into one album and Never Let Go was the only track held back for ms? Definitely some theorizing space to be had now.

Final thoughts?

Similar to my thoughts on the GCF: Budapest (which I feel would have had a much better reception if it had been labeled as a bangtan episode rather than a GCF), I AM Still should not have purported to be a documentary. It was much more similar to the annual Memories compilations. But the general public would not have shelled out the $25 to go to a theater to watch a Memories DVD so alas, we have our content packaged as a ~documentary~...

Did my view on the music change at all? Not because of the documentary. We're coming up on the year anniversary of GOLDEN and it's still definitely not my favorite. I completely understand why some people like it but it's just not to my taste. The overall impact falls a little flat for me. Too much breadth and not enough depth. I came into my musical soul during the 00s emo phase and will always be a sucker for music that absolutely drips in an emotional way rather than catchy songs vaguely referencing heartache and love. Again, just a matter of viewpoint.

I do think most of these songs stand much better being shuffled amongst other artists in a Playlist and several of them are significantly better when JK sang them live but I still won't be listening to them regularly. I wholeheartedly believe JK completed his task of proving himself as an extremely dedicated and versatile singer and performer. He's definitely got some solid points added to his resume after this project.

[ohtheewhorer]

Imagine you’re Dale “Longlegs” Kobble’s Chubby!Virgin!FWB whom he slowly corrupts (3.3k words)

So here’s what I’m thinking—follow me on this…

Warnings: Graphic Description, Shameless Smut, little bit of fluff, Desperate Sex, Passionate Sex Loss of Virginity w/ Blood, if you squint incubus!Dale, Religious Guilt, Blasphemy, stalker longlegs, yandere longlegs, Horny Reader, Loss of Innocence, Dark themes, Chubby Reader

A/N: I wrote a lot more than I expected as I always do 😩. Please enjoy my long ass blurb/fic about this hot evil old man. You can also read my fic on ao3 (I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES USED)

You’re the preacher’s daughter who just wants some freedom from your overbearing, shotgun-toting, bible-wielding father. You’re innocent in appearance but if people really got to know you they’d know that you’re really a mischievous, horny little minx with a yearning for something dangerous; anything opposite to your sheltered life.

Then, one day, you run into Dale while visiting the local hardware store with your father. At first, you’re unnerved by his presence. After all, Dale is…unique-looking to say the least; his graying thin long hair, his filler plumped lips and face with skin that has an unnatural blotchy alabaster coloring to it which made him appear quite ghoulish yet somehow ethereal. But then there are those intense blue eyes of his that seemed to sparkle with joy the moment you entered his line of sight.

Dale made the bold move to approach you knowing your Paw was only a few distances away—something no man ever had the guts of doing in this small town—only to simply congratulate you on your upcoming 20-something birthday. You shrunk under his towering stature, eyes darting anxiously around in search of your dad. You weren’t sure whether you should be afraid of the fact that—regardless of it being a small town—how did some random stranger know your birthday? Or maybe you should be afraid for him considering he could very well be a victim of your father’s wrath. And all because the strange man dared to do the kind gesture of wishing the preacher’s precious girl an early birthday.

You even pitied the man enough to throw many discreet hints that he needed to back the fuck away from you before it got ugly. But the ever eccentric and bizarre Dale didn’t take any hints and ended up singing to you an old classic rock song that your worldly uncle would probably be able to identify.

Your father came around the corner and he had questioned Dale of his intentions while speaking to you, very well aware that his pretty princess had many suitors who vied for your hand in marriage. And you knew your father well enough to read his judging eyes as they scanned Dale’s entire presentation, scowling that a man like him would ever think he might have a chance regardless of if Dale ever had the thought to pursue you.

And Dale, oh, Dale…he’d speak broken sentences and barely audible words, euphemisms and epithets, riddles and rhyme and your increasingly frustrated father would curse him in biblical verses and claim that he’d spoken the ‘devil’s tongue’. And the moment your Paw calls out the lanky male as a ‘satanist’ instead of disproving his claim—preventing any potential small town witch hunt—Dale, instead, sends him a botched-lipped cheshire cat grin ending the interaction with a chilling line, “Your ignorance won't save you when the shadows you've denied finally come to claim you."

Goosebumps arise on your supple skin, staring up at the man with both fear and admiration. No one’s ever stood up to your father that way. Everyone’s always having to walk on eggshells around him, not wanting to be seen as a delinquent in the eyes of the lord’s appointed servant. But Dale has done it with that high-pitched playful lilt in his tone and that bright smile on his face. His courage alone was enough to spark your interest in him. He was dangerous and you wanted nothing more than to experience him.

And sure you could find plenty of pretty boys and bad boys in town that would happily sneak around with you and give you a taste of the wild side that you so craved. But you didn’t want just “a taste” nor did you wish to hide your deeds. You want to be very loud and proud with your degeneracy.

And so you made the effort to see him again, going to the hardware store within the next few days because it’s all you knew of him. You’d gone at least 5 times already, at varying times in the day; all alone, too, much to your father’s chagrin. Just when you planned to give up on your 6th visit, while turning to leave you could hear the familiar flowery voice from behind you that has you swiveling in his direction in elation.

He’d found you and so the rest was history. It didn’t take long after to build an intense bond with him that teetered the line of being sexual at times, especially once you got past the stage of learning each other’s name. He doesn’t usually leave his shabby house much so it made sense that you’ve not seen him around before. Though by his own horrifying admission he’d been observing (stalking) you for a while now and had already known about you. You’re just grateful to have met him; a man unafraid to push boundaries.

With him, you didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to do things beyond what is appropriate within your conservative community. For one, you got to hold his hand that’s a lot more than you’ve ever done even while attending college. And when you asked to go even further like hugging…he lets you hug all over him (though mostly for his own selfish reasons since he’s as touch-starved as you). To most outsiders, doing these things aren’t much of a big deal but to you, a beginner hedonist, it meant everything. You want fun and Dale promised you this with every interaction; upping the ‘depravity’ as you went.

But then one day, Dale suggests to you that he could show you fun beyond the tantalizing ‘indirect kisses’ via sharing lollipops or the occasional lap sitting with added knee bounces for effect.

“You want to take my virginity…on my birthday…as a gift to me?” You ask incredulously. It was scummy of him to even think such a thing would ever be considered a gift. And from a man like him no less; much too old for you and quite terrifying to look at from certain angles. And yet…you felt a gush of your slick soak your panties. You needed therapy. You need to find God again. This is sick!

But it’s sooo damn tempting.

“I only want to open your mind to many great pleasures, Angel. Is that not what you told me you’ve been seeking?” Dale says, reaching a hand over the console of his car to rub one of your nylon-clad voluptuous thighs. “Be a good girl for me, just two more days… and it’ll be an even special day for the birthday girl.”

You tense a little, feeling his hand traveling higher up your thigh. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“That’s for you to decide, silly.” He giggles.

“I think I’m ready. I-I’m ready.” You repeat, giving him a struggling smile that falters when your breath hitches again. His hand is kneading the meat of your thigh.

“Oh, I’d bet these legs around my head would feel like just the loveliest hug.” He sighs dreamily.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to hurt you like that.”

He laughs some more, running a calloused hand down your cheek and admiring its youthful elasticity. “You could never hurt me, angel. But I get the impression you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I do. I’m sorry,” You say, batting your long lashes and flashing your alluring doe eyes up at him. “Could you show me what you mean? I’d really like to know, pretty please.”

“In due time, love. You’ll have to first show me you can be a good girl when I ask you to be.”

“How do I do that?” You nudge your face deeper into his open palm, sliding his fingers over the edges of your jaw until they’re close enough to your pouty lips. Using your tongue you drag one long nimble digit into your mouth, suckling lightly on the tip. He has an earthy taste to him that you quickly grow addicted to.

Dale pulls his finger from your lips, webs of saliva connecting your lips to it. He smiles, wagging his finger side to side. “Tsk, Tsk. That was very naughty, angel. Being a good girl means you’ll have to listen to the sky father’s rules again. That means no premarital activities. You’re not allowed to touch yourself either. Wouldn’t want you to be a sinner before the big day? I’ll give you a pass for today although with some limitations. But then it’s 2 days of being on the nice list, missy. You’ve got 3 strikes if you lose them…you’ll be punished. And I beg you not to get on the naughty list or I won’t be making you sing pretty for me like the sweet birdie you are.”

“Why? Why should I go through all that trouble for you?” You hate having to bottle up your desires again when the excitement’s only just begun.

“Because it’ll make your blood much more pure for the sacrificial ceremony,” He jokes, then frowns when you place his hands away from you, turning in your seat so you’re not facing him. Dale leans into your ear, whispering. “You’ll know what real freedom is once you’ve had a taste of it and then it’s ripped from you like an anticipated treat stolen right out of a dog’s mouth. And if you cower from the dark side, back to your sheltered life, you’ll always feel as if you’re on the brink of going…FERAL!” His hand slaps against the window beside your face making you jolt up and stare back at him in terror. Your chest rises and falls, hyperventilating as he stares intensely into your eyes, his face is only a few inches from yours.

“So…I give myself to you and I’ll be free?” You question timidly. “Like you?”

Though he wears a big crooked smile, his eyes betray him as a tear runs down one plump cheek. “Why, of course, angel. You’ll be free…like me.”

You cup his cheeks, swiping your thumbs over the lumpy skin before placing your mouth over his. Your first real kiss! With a man you knew, at most, for a week. It’s a tender yet short kiss as you relish in the feeling while you can. His lips are slightly chapped and uneven in texture yet you moan into it because it felt so right. You pull away before you get too carried away and do something devilishly sensual like sticking your tongue down his throat.

You anxiously gauge his reaction. Is this strike one?

His eyelids slowly flutter open before looking back into your eyes again. He hasn’t experienced this kind of softness in forever. People are usually afraid of him and he’s used to being alone but having such a young beauty as yourself having just an inkling of interest in him blows his mind farther than any fucked up shit he’s seen and/or done.

But Dale’s just not capable of understanding these intense feelings he has for you and it makes him feel as if he’s losing the little control he has in his life. So he’s always jumping to the default of trying to creep you out as some sort of power move he possesses; proud that he can make people fear him by his actions aside from just his bizarre appearance. So now he’s just running his thick wet tongue along his puffy lips after your shared kiss, playing up the perverted gesture which should’ve been enough to make your skin crawl but you always match his freak.

Leaning over the console to invade his space once again, you touch the tip of his tongue faintly against yours just before he darts it back into his mouth. And if he were to give you a strike for that wicked move, it’d be so worth it.

Dale’s such a little shit, though, because he’d for sure make you watch some vintage porn that he owns and it’s not at all vanilla. It’s rough, dirty, pearl-clutching, thigh-clenching stuff. Choking, spitting, biting, bondage… it’s all so violent to a wide-eyed beginner as yourself. Your heart’s pounding a mile a minute, squeezing Dale’s arm and willing yourself not to look away or he’d consider it a strike.

And the next two days are even worse with little devil Dale making sure he tortures you through the agonizing march of time. He’d refrain from touching you at all, avoiding you like the plague. You’d feel like you’re going crazy like he’s some form of drug to you because all you can think of is him. Even while you sleep at night it’s as if his presence lingers around you. Now you’re beginning to understand why your father says that lust is a poison to a god-fearing mind. You’re convinced that Dale has sunken his gnarly sharp teeth into you, infecting you with his toxic venom so that you’ll never come out the same again.

When your birthday finally arrives, Dale knows for sure that you’ve officially surrendered yourself to him. He could tell it in the way you waited on his words hand and foot, wanting to follow whatever it is he asked of you with no question. He could make you up and break you down into the perfect little subservient minion of the dark side and you’d gladly sign away your life. It would be that easy.

He’ll take you to his special place, down in his dimly-lit basement, where there’s no chance of anyone hearing you scream. He’d start by making you cum with his mouth first just as he’d promised and you’re seeing fucking stars! The man feeds on you like he’s been starved for centuries. He didn’t even have the decency to pull off your cute lacy pink thong you’d carefully selected at some lingerie store for him to marvel at. He just flips up your pleated skirt, pushes your panties to the side and just digs in with an eager mouth and even eager tongue. Those same puffy lips you’d kissed the other day now sucking and making out with your own puffy lips while he gets his wish of you wrapping your pillowy thighs around him.

You’d offer to get on your knees and suck his cock the way you’d seen in one of his films but he’s too wired, wanting to fuck you right then and there on his dingy worn couch.

When he pushes into you, it’s as if you’re being split in two; surprising because, based on what you saw in those nudie films, Dale’s isn’t as big as those ones. It’s actually quite short, deliciously veiny with a hook. Girthy, too. As thick as coke can. Dale Kobble proves the theory of girth over length by a long shot.

He’s positioned you on your back to where your legs are pressed deep into your shoulders and now-exposed chest since Dale, in his impatience, lifted your shirt over your ample breasts and pulling them out of the cups of your bra to watch them jiggle and knock against one another other with each drive of his hips.

This man has zero patience for anything actually. He’d just push into your tight heat in one fell swoop and you’d gasp out loud, feeling the faint tearing within you. He’d pull himself out a little to marvel at the blood and cream coating his dick, gathering some on his finger to paint your sweet lips. And you’d flick your tongue between the spaces of his fingers wanting to drink in the essence and you feel so fucking powerful.

Once he begins his pace, it’s erractic, unrhythmic, desperate, and awkward but you fucking love it so much that it has you whimpering and clawing at his back. You don’t care how little experience he has, you never want him apart from you.

Dale would want to be as close to you as he could, falling over your masterpiece of a body with his full weight. He’s penetrating DEEP. He wants to give you all that dick no matter if it isn’t much. He’s all sweaty, his belly sticking to yours from all the worked up perspiration. You enjoy the feeling of his softness against yours, appreciating his torso (when you could at least) for the ‘dad bod’ built that it was.

He’s hoarsely gasping, whispering the dirty filth in your ear, caging you between his arms. You can’t push him away even if you tried but you’d be crazy to ever want to, squeezing your legs around his body in a death grip.

He’ll let his face fall in between the valley of your breasts, inhaling you. He doesn’t care to breathe anything else so to suffocate this way, would be an honor. High-pitched sobs and breathless whispers against your skin indicates to you that it’s been so long for him since he’s felt a warm body against his own. The more he thinks about how lucky he is to fuck such a tight, greedy cunt as yours it make him turn into an inconsolable mess; crying, spitting, and kissing all over you.

You’re no better, whining and mewling with reckless abandon. Your hands are anywhere clawing at his boringly pastel colored shirt, running your hands up his shirt to sink your nails into the sides of his ribs until you're settling on his long hair. With every bruising thrust, you tug hard on his hair earning pathetic “unh”’s and “ah”’s from him.

Whenever either of you muster up the strength to pull away from each other for just a few centimeters, you’d sloppily crash your lips together, swapping spit or devouring each other’s tongues then swallowing down your moans from each other’s mouths like passionate lovers who’ve known each other for years.

Dale feels like just as much of a virgin as you with how much you’ve reduced him to a sniveling lovestruck fool. He can already sense his approaching climax, not wanting to blow his load before you get a chance to experience bliss.

He’ll bring a finger to your clit, specifically the finger that dons that fucking ring so you could feel the cool metal against your sensitive button. And obviously, he won’t be nice about it, rubbing harsh, rapid circles on it until you fall apart. He’s not stopping until you’re sobbing—begging…you’re absolutely delirious. Your back arches off the couch cushions, eyes rolling into the back of your skull like it’s an exorcism. You can hardly breathe. This is exactly why orgasms are called ‘little deaths’ because you must’ve died and now you’re reborn again offering yourself to the soulless world.

Before you could protest he spills his sticky, hot cum inside of you. Your hands would instinctively try to push away but your legs keep him there, wanting every last fucking drop of Dale’s seed. The man’s got some big kahunas so you’re going to overflow with his essence.

And without a doubt, for all the money in the bank, Dale will scream “I love you” as he cums until he’s just whispering it while shuddering against you.

After it all, you’ll both lay together in an entanglement of limbs, cuddling in the afterglow while seesawing between either cleaning up or going for another round. Though considering you could feel him stirring up inside you again, you think it’ll definitely be the latter.

He’ll truly surprise you with your actual gift. A beautiful gold necklace with an amethyst pendant (and a secret tracker you don’t so that he’ll always find you everywhere even if you ever try to run away from him). And, of course, he wouldn’t forget to gift Paw something for having his part in the creation of you, so he mails him your bloodied lacy underwear as a reminder of the lost innocence of his precious girl.

Oh, and aftercare definitely involves those large hands of his giving you nice belly rubs and soft scratches along your skin with the occasional peppered kisses along the pudge. Then, you’ll eventually both come to the conclusion that you're each other’s anchor whether for better or much, much worse.

[velandvithestarlightgullwings]

A conversation needs to be had regarding the democratic party

I've been particularly harsh when it comes to clout chasers regarding Palestine and the instant gratification the world seems to want without putting in the work.

But I want to talk to the Pro-palestinian supporters as well as the online leftist and liberal groups as a whole.

Now, up until Trump's first strike in july, I always thought they MAGA was deeply unified. It didn't matter how awful their leaders treated them, it didn't matter how much disdain their leaders showed them, they always fell in line to vote for Trump and lowkey, I respected it as they, for every single fault they have, loyalty was not lacking on their side.

Meanwhile, I was growing furious with my side of the fence because there was always fighting. I just wanted us all, for a single moment in time, when so much was at risk, to stop the infighting, unite against s common enemy, and defeat the dictator wanna-be once and for all.

Because I know that while MAGA have the cult-like ability to become a homogeneous being, we on the left are basically a bunch of ideologies mushed together under the blue umbrella.

Yesterday, I wrote a blog about how empathy was lacking and it's true. Palestine supporters are willing to throw America under the bus, where marginalized people like trans, minorities, disabled and elderly people will be the first to be hit if Trump wins, followed by white women.

But empathy is a two way street and a lot of people on the left are forgetting that Palestinian lives are being lost every day. The BIDEN administration is acting like an abused housewife to Netanyahu by refusing to even look him in the eye and pull support and while Harris believes in a ceasefire and a two-state solution, she still believes in the ally ship between Israel and America and believes they have a right to defend themselves.

And if we are real, America is the big sister to Israel. We basically taught them everything they needed to know in terms of being colonizers and unabashed murderers.

And keep in mind, im not talking about all Israeli people. I know plenty who are standing with Palestinians both in the states and outside of it.

I'm talking about the Zionist settlers that relish in Palestinian deaths, like Netanyahu, while also crying the victim because of what happened on October 7th (even though he was warned of Hamas attacking several times and still did nothing but that's a conversation for later)

As Americans and those on the left, we need to have a deep conversation with ourselves and ask two things.

Why are part of the left willing to overlook genocide?

And why the other part doesn't care about their own people and their plight?

Neither of these questions are easy to answer but I'm willing to give it a shot.

The first question is a simple one.

2016.

The year where everything went wrong. Hillary Clinton decided to run for president. The dems wanted this and they did everything they could to support it. They threw Bernie Sanders under the bus, this infuriating the youth, they propped Trump up to give her an easy win, and they were arrogant enough to ignore the blue wall. All of this, and the baggage she had from decades of slander, Russia's interference, and Comey's Benghazi investigation literally a week before the election took a flawless victory to a stunning defeat.

After that. Four years of fuckery that left the entire country shaken, where every day seemed like a new low. But what made it worse was the laws that were gutted, one of which made Covid so much worse, the 2 surpreme court judges being pushed by Turtle McConnell, leading to Roe V Wade being slain. among many other things.

It took a near decade but many people on the left are battered and fearful of another Trump win, especially now with Agenda 47/P2025 on the horizon.

Because of this fear, and the guilt that many feel by not holding their nose and voting for Hillary in the first place is causing an overwhelming overreaction by doing "blue no matter who." People claim that "Blue Maga" is real, and they are right. But it's not because of the same reasons as MAGA.

MAGA exists for people to be their worse selves. They can be ignorant, belligerent, racist. Sexist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic because Trump has allowed those bigots to come out of the shadows and be legitimized in the political world.

"Blue Maga" is created by fear, guilt and understanding of what is at risk by Trump winning again and further making things worse for all.

Because of the Israel-Palestine conflict getting mainstream, some people feel that they need to focus on their own situation before anyone else's, some people (sad to say) really don't care about something that isn't effecting them, some also have Zionist viewsx and a small amount can't forgive them for celebrating 9/11 the day it happened. Whatever the case, they want to stop Trump and MAGA by any means necessary, no matter who gets in their way.

Now, the second issue is also a combination of a lot of things. A lot of the protesters (correctly) feel like genocide is absolutely something that should be fought against, especially as its using our tax dollars to fund said genocide. It also doesn't help that thanks to the internet, a lot of them are scarred from the images and news reports they were bombarded with on various social media sites regarding Palestine.

Something like death and human sorrow is never easy to forget. I was a little girl living in Chicago. I've already saw a lot of death. And then after moving to Vegas, 9/11 happened and seeing/hearing the bodies splatter on the ground, the screams, the...everything was harrowing.

I don't blame anyone being emotionally disturbed by it all.

And as I've railed about many times, many social media people have hopped from supporting Ukraine to supporting Palestine for the social justice moral purity points to make themselves look good.

Also, you have the sleeper agents that are using Palestine as a way to help MAGA and Russia win the elections along with Pro-Hamas supporters (not Palestinian supporters. They get conflated often so I have to make the difference) using this to reveal their antisemitism.

But for a lot of young people, this is their first really big social movement so they are throwing everything into it because they are at the stage that they believe that they can make a movement that will sweep the world ala the civil rights movement, conveniently ignoring how much strategic planning, pragmatism, peaceful riots, and patience it took.

However, much like "Blue Maga" they've decided that Palestine is the end all be all and damn anyone or anything that gets in their way.

This leaves them blind of the suffering of their own communities. They don't rage over homelessness, the cost of living, the stagnant wages, the rampant discrimination, disenfranchisement and disinformation that is going on. And they sure don't see how women are being made second class citizens right in front of their eyes.

They either don't see it, believe that all these things are "first world problems," outright think they another Trump presidency wouldn't be so bad and that people were exaggerating, even though it took until the 20s to see how Trump's presidency really tore apart this country, they think its karma, or the worse case is that they don't care about what Trump will do because they think they are in a privileged position to not be hit with the worse that can happen.

So this is where we stand.

Now we have to ask what to do about it?

Truth is, what can be done?

The democratic party is in a state of flux. Many conservatives have come out to support Harris in an "the enemy of my enemy is my temporary friend" deal including resident devil Dick Cheney, Biden continues to bow to Israel due to the alliance they have, and third party candidates have been revealed to be MAGA in disguise.

One side believes that teaming with a demon to slay a devil is a necessary evil while the other side fears this is the proof that Democrats are going further right.

But if half of the democratic party refuses to vote due to Palestine, the people who are fearful of what they can lose will go to desperate measures to survive.

My verdict? We really need ranked voting.

[kingsonne-zedecks]

I wanted to talk about some Cradle stuff so I pulled this put of my drafts and polished it up a bit. This came out of my own musings as well as a conversation on reddit regarding what childhood and early sacred arts looks like for different people in the world.

We see a lot of different people with different types of paths but we don't know much about most of them or how children choose them. In some circumstances

For some Paths, it's obviously a question of tradition, while others are more utility, and more are products of ambition. But what does advancement look like when those things are absent?

As I organized my thoughts I ended up making some categories of what different upbringings with the sacred arts might look like.

The Traditional

This encompasses many of the Paths we see in Cradle. These are the well trodden and firmly established "Paths of the Clan". Here is your White Fox, your Grasping Sky, your Blackflame, your Stellar Spear. These are paths that the vast majority of the clan or family follow in unison.

Tradition and competition for resources weigh heavily on these paths. A path of light and dreams doesn't necessarily lend towards farming, but the Wei still overwhelmingly practice the White Fox. Every person on the path becomes a capable combatant under this method, and they might need to be.

Children start following this Path at Copper and follow it the rest of their lives.

The Lesser Clan

This is the path of clans like the Redflower, but also applies to smaller families as well. These paths bridge the gap between Tradition and Utility. The family path is not so heavily tied to the concept of honor or combat. Its a path that serves a purpose, and it's a purpose that you are born to. This is the path of "my father and his father before him." The path of "sixth generation farmer" and "my daughter will take over the family business." Whatever the parents do, the child can expect to do as well.

This path also starts at Copper.

The Great Clan

We see this in the Akura and the Arelius. These clans have resources and knowledge and their people follow a variety of Paths. There is likely an influence towards one type of path or another, purely due to there being more resources and knowledge regarding that type of madra.

Its hard to know how a path starts in these families—how much influence a parent takes over the path of the child. This is the path of options. A child here might delay starting their path until they have chosen the perfect one. A child might have the perfect path chosen for them and begin working towards it from a young age. A child might choose to develop their own path.

The age and level of advancement that a child is when they actually start on their Path could be highly variable, especially given the possibility of advancing through the lower realms via elixir rather than cycling.

The Mighty Sect

These are schools such as the Cloud Hammer or Jade Eyes. They have strength and resources and a specific Path that they teach, but they are not one family or clan. Prospective students are drawn from other families through a variety of processes. Its likely that some students' parents pay for them to learn from the sect, or else deal in favors to get their child admittance. Its likely that there is some sort of admission process in which children prove their worth to join the sect.

Its unclear regarding the age of admission for these schools. Perhaps they only take pure Coppers, or perhaps any artist below Jade or even Gold whose core can be converted to the path.

The Pathless

This is the path of Mu Enkai. Poor individuals with no resources or training that don't follow any real path. They harvest whatever aura is either most plentiful or most related to the work they are likely to be doing. Techniques are rough and not necessarily even frequently used. Remnant for advancement to Gold is likely a matter of opportunity more than anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of my ideas are only partially supported by direct text, and some of them are entirely the result of unsupported theory crafting and worldbuilding.

The Worker

These are people who know what they want to do, and choose a path that will get them there. Writers on Dream Paths, gardeners on Life paths, builders on Earth paths. These are the children that know that they want to be when they grow up and follow a path that helps them with that. Just like in real life, not many kids actually know what they want to do at the age of six and then happily stick with it.

The Ambivalent

This one is similar but different to the Pathless. Where a poor peasant might be denied the resources to advance beyond lowgold, there are probably a large number of people, particularly living in large cities, that just don't care. They are going to work jobs and live their lives in a way that the sacred arts don't really impact. They probably advance to lowgold like a child being pushed through high school. Maybe they select an aura type as a child based on their favorite color. Maybe they select a remnant based on the appeal of possible goldsigns. It doesn't really matter, they don't care, the sacred arts are merely an afterthought in their lives.

The Modern Middle Class

These are the Cradle Suburbanites. People that live in towns and cities big enough that they don't really have to worry about sacred arts battles for the most part. Their parents work at jobs and bring home scales and buy their children elixirs. The child advances based mostly on elixirs until they reach peak Jade, and are old enough to pick a remnant from the remnant store. Maybe they stop there, or maybe they advance, but they are old enough to choose for themselves at that point.

The Educated

This is the advanced form of Suburbanite. These kids go to modern style schools for the sacred arts. The school provides elixirs and training. The students are taught principles of madra and technique fundamentals. They have homework and quizzes and tests with practicals. When they get older they start to specialize and begin working more directly with the types of madra they want. The school library has information that the children can use to craft their own paths, or manuals from common paths for the children to choose from. The school provides a selection of remnants for the children to advance with and high level classes to help integrate remnants with the goal of advancement to Highgold at minimum before graduation.

The Village

These are children that grow up in small poor villages that don't have many resources or much knowledge and that aren't actively being oppressed by more advanced artists. There's not really a big push for advancement or any competition over it. Children might talk with different relatives, neighbors, and family friends before choosing a direction that sounds interesting. While not a Path persay, they do get taught little lessons on techniques and receive advice from the adults around them.

The Tutored

Inspired by Oz's childhood, these children are taught the fundamentals of the sacred arts by tutors. This can apply to a wide range of economic statuses, from the children of Lords with private tutors, down to village or city children whose parents pay the cost demanded by tutors of their status. Education is a blend of custom directed learning for the child and a direct passing of the knowledge of the tutor.

[wyked-ao3]

this is an appreciation post because i don’t think it’s talked about enough just how much contribute to the writeblr community. you’re so engaged in everyone’s work. you read so many wips and ask genuinely engaging and fun questions. you do the tuesday ask thing for all your mutuals. you genuinely make everyone here feel so safe and appreciated, and make all of our works feel so loved.

thank you for being such a lovely person wyked, and for being such an amazing friend. the entire appreciates and loves you <3

(p.s. i need reference pictures for amon pls)

Thank you Nav this was really touching. 🫂 I'm glad that people enjoy the questions and I strive to be a mostly positive person some days that's a little more difficult than others. But I do genuinely love seeing everyone's work and the passion and thought that they have put into it. There are countless stories put there and finding out the small details that are overlooked can be a fun part of getting to know the story while it's being worked on. The writing community is a wonderful place to hang out and I think we can all agree on that. Thank you for the appreciation post it really means a lot to me.

Also @thecomfywriter you brighten up the writing community as well and I always look forward to seeing your post and our chats.

Amon inspiration pictures from Pinterest as requested

the top left would be his ears and piercings and what his adult horns will look like.

Top right is face and the royal aesthetic he would have grown up with.

Bottom is the fashion he likes to where with the pirates and how he normally has his hair to hide the little nubs of horns he has currently. Although he tends to where more black and white then just black lol. Can't take all the boys roots away from him. He is a spirit fae at the end of the day.

@inseasofgreen Amon

[vihola]

Get to Know Your Tav

Tagged by @starknstarwars, thanks! 💜

Tagging anyone who wants to do it, and specifically @mimabeann, @ladyorin, @dameaylin, @keldae, @greyias

Verbena

What is your tav’s favorite weapon?

She becomes very fond of the Pale Oak staff she receives in the Emerald Grove. She carries it everywhere not because it's the best option but because it reminds her what it feels like to finally be accepted. That feeling alone is enough to give her extra confidence against all odds. 

style of combat?

Every step is calculated. Verbena doesn't rush into the fray but steps back and takes a good look at her opponents. She seeks any weak spot to exploit, any tactical advantage. And then she's ready to kick ass.

most prized possession?

Her old lyre. It was the only possession she took when she ran away from the childhood home. It has become the only friend that stayed by her side for years. She cares for it reverently, fussing over every speck of dirt and every little scratch.

deepest desire?

Her every granted wish turned out to be a double-edged sword, so she's afraid to truly want something. She desperately wanted a family and got adopted by abusive narcissists. She wanted to make the world better and ended up hurting people. She wanted the freedom to choose her own path and got it at the cost of being completely alone. Maybe it's safer not to want anything at all.

guilty pleasure?

She's addicted to shiny things. You can't convince her to sell all the jewelry she looted in exchange for something more practical like camp supplies. No, she will wear rings on every finger instead.

best-kept secret

Her entire past. She shares bits and pieces when she must, like when she encounters shadow druids who recognize her. But she puts these pieces into a whole picture only after reaching Baldur's Gate.

greatest strength?

Perceptiveness. She's very good at reading people and picking up on little cues after years of hypervigilance.

fatal flaw?

Secrecy. She seems so open, surely you can trust her to tell you everything? Wrong. You can bare your soul to her without learning anything in return. She won't talk about the enemies that may come back to haunt her or about the fact that she might unexpectedly die at any moment. Not until you press her or until it's too late. And when you demand to know why she withheld this important information, she just shrugs. "You didn't ask," she says.

favorite smell?

The way the air smells after a thunderstorm. It makes her feel like the world has been renewed, washed clean of all cruelty and injustice. If only this feeling could last. 

favorite spell or cantrip?

She has a favorite spell for every situation. Combat? Thorn whip or Ice knife. Too many enemies? Invisibility. Trying to talk it out instead of fighting? Detect thoughts.

pet peeve?

She can't stand bullies and gladly uses every opportunity to put them in their place.

bad habit?

She can't walk past an animal without attempting to talk to it. And every dead body has a story, let's summon the spirit of that decomposing guy! It's time-consuming for her and exasperating for others, but she just can't help herself.

hidden talent?

Can sneak like a pro. She's been doing it all her life – staying out of trouble in the orphanage, hiding from her parents when they were in one of their volatile moods, evading suspicious people in her travels.

leisure activity?

She loves calm evenings when she can just sit back, play her lyre, and finally finish the lyrics that have been stuck in her head for days.

favorite drink?

She likes to come up with her own tea blends. Not all or her attempts are successful, but she will drink them anyway and then share the good blends with others. She also loves mulled wine, but only if she gets to be in charge of spices. She always complains that taverns make the blandest mulled wine and whoever is responsible for it should be in jail.

comfort food?

Freshly baked bread. She can't make it and rarely visits cities, so it feels like such a luxurious treat.

favorite person(s)?

The friends she meets while trying to get rid of the damn parasite, she has no one else. She burned all the bridges to her past and resigned herself to being alone because she was denied love and control everywhere she went. And it's so strange and wonderful to bond with someone after all that loneliness. Maybe she's terrified of Lae'zel and tempted to kick Astarion's ass. Maybe at first she doesn't trust anyone in her party and expects betrayal. But these weird traumatized people find their way into her heart and stay there forever.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?

It's easier for her to be physically affectionate in her wild shape. Verbena as a cat shamelessly bonks her friends and purrs in their laps. Verbena as a tiefling is a little awkward and touch-starved, but she learns to enjoy hugs very much.

fondest childhood memory?

Childhood memories are tricky. She fondly remembers her best friend from the orphanage, but thinking of the orphanage itself makes her blood run cold. She remembers when her parents were affectionate and generous, but then she recalls how they used her for their entertainment. Every memory is tainted, every bright moment leaves a bitter aftertaste.

free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you’d like to share?

The party has no idea that a friendly cat who often shows up in their camp is actually Verbena. And then she uses her wild shape in front of them to investigate without alerting nearby enemies. The party is shook. Gale apologizes for petting her.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!