#this is such an insignificant situation in the grand scheme of things

[eenochian]

“headcanoning farah as wlw is disrespectful because she’s muslim”

my. my guy. queer people exist in every group. queer muslims very much exist.

“ok but it’s a sin in islam”

WHY ARE WE SUDDENLY JUSTIFYING HOMOPHOBIA WITH RELIGION⁉️⁉️ it’s wrong for a christian to use religion to justify their bigotry, so WHY is it okay to use islam or any other religion to do the same?? i know that i’m comparing the world’s most oppressive religion (christianity) to a religion that’s oppressed, but like… allowing one group to essentially “get a pass” opens the door for EVERY group to get one.

what was even weirder is that the person who made the post about it wasn’t even muslim 😭 they said they looked it up which i believe, but then they had an actual wlw muslim in their comments telling them it wasn’t a big deal— and THEY LITERALLY TOLD THE COMMENTER THAT IT WAS STILL DISRESPECTFUL?? AND OTHER NON-MUSLIMS WERE GOING “grr but it’s a sin >:(” LIKE?? HELLO?? WHY are people not even included in the group talking over ACTUAL MEMBERS OF THE GROUP???

i care very deeply about respecting people’s beliefs and faiths. but once that belief starts to harm others, my respect is withdrawn. the golden rule is that your rights end where another person’s begin. i remember seeing posts from years ago about queer muslims. they’ve always reminded me of queer christians – the vast majority of their faiths hate them, but they do still exist. and it’s possible to be progressive while also being devoted to your faith. i’ve met so many religious folks that are allies and supportive of queer people, so seeing posts like this crop up and gain popularity is just… disheartening. it feels like we’re going backwards after finally making some progress.

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

masterlist

chapter 2

Min Yoongi was a patient man. At least he considered himself to be so. He may not have been the most charming or the most skilled, but he was patient. He’d built his empire from the ground up through sheer power of will. He’d waited six years for the woman he loved to return to him. He should be able to give her space, to allow her to calm down, but he found himself on edge in a way that wasn’t natural for him. He was going crazy knowing that she was so close and yet not within his reach. 

He’d lost her once. He wasn’t willing to lose her again, especially over something as trivial as his business endeavors. She’d understand. He knew she would, and if she didn’t, he’d just have to make her see things his way. 

She had been a stubborn woman when he’d known her, and he couldn’t imagine that that had changed much over the years. It was one of the things he liked best about her though. Despite her stubbornness she wasn’t completely unreasonable. She could be brought around to see things from a different perspective. The problem would be getting her to agree to see him at all. 

Jung Tae-il and his wife were as dear to her as any blood relative. If he’d known that one of his underlings had made a deal with the old man, he would have given them better terms simply for her sake, but that’s not what had happened. The deal had gone unnoticed by him, too insignificant in the grand scheme of things for him to pay it any mind. Why would he have? It was just one more person coming to beg for a loan when the banks wouldn’t give them one, another sob story. He couldn’t count the number of times someone had come begging for money to help a sick relative. They were beneath his notice, but this hadn't just been any other loan, and he was paying for that now. 

It wasn’t completely hopeless though, not in  his estimation. Despite the situation, despite her anger, this whole mess had brought her back to him. He knew where she was now, and there was no ocean separating them. How long had he waited to see her again? How often had he wondered if he’d ever get the chance? 

Much like his number had changed over the years, so had hers though in a different way than his had. When they’d fought all those years ago, she hadn’t seen the need to give him her American number before she left. They hadn’t been on speaking terms, and her Korean number was of no use to him when her SIM card didn’t work across the ocean. She’d slipped away from him leaving him no way to contact her, no Whatsapp or Kakaotalk, nothing. 

Seeing her again had felt like a weight had been lifted from him. The missing piece of him had come home. All of his regrets and the what ifs didn’t matter anymore because she was back, and he could fix it. He could fix everything. 

He was good at it, fixing problems. It was why he had gotten taken on in this business in the first place, and it was why he had built up an empire of his own so quickly. He was quick. He was clever, and he was very good at fixing problems. Her ire was nothing he couldn’t handle and nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He was confident in that. 

“Boss?” Minhwan interrupted his reflection, entering his office nervously. “I have the file you requested on Margot.” Quickly, he placed the manila folder on the desk, rushing to explain himself as his boss had been in a foul mood since the woman had first been brought to his attention, and a Min Yoongi in a foul mood was an especially dangerous Min Yoongi. “I have her address, her phone number, email address, her place of work. I could probably get access to her medical records given enough time.” 

Yoongi ignored his sputterings and picked up the file, thumbing through it to ensure that all the requested information was in fact there, and pausing briefly on the picture attached to the file.

It was recent, probably an ID photo for work, but it was recent. It was the first photo of her he’d seen that wasn’t from six years ago, and while it was stiff and formal, it was her as she was now. 

“I want a security detail on her at all times. Something subtle that she won’t notice.” He ordered, eyes still fixed to the photo.

“Sir?” Minhwan asked, unsure why this woman was so important or why his boss wanted a detail on her, but it was all highly unusual. 

“If a single hair on her head is harmed, I’ll skin you all alive.” he warned, a strange glint in his eyes as he delivered the warning that made it perfectly clear that he would follow through on it. 

“Of- of course, sir!” Minhwan stuttered, unsure what to make of his boss’s sudden order, unsure of what to make of most of his behavior in the past few days. “I’ll get someone on it right away.” 

Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief as he left, leaning back in his chair with her photo in his hand. 

Even if she didn’t want to see him at the moment, he wanted her safe. She’d probably murder him if she knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that so long as she was safe. If she wouldn’t let him be with her, this was the next best thing until he got the situation handled properly.

“Sir…” the man began hesitantly. “If I can ask… why is this woman so important?” 

A Cheshire grin spread across Yoongi’s face at the question. “That, Minhwan, is the future Mrs. Min.” 

—--

Saturdays, when school wasn’t in session, Margot liked to go to the hospital to sit with Maria in the mornings. Tae-il still had work, and it was nice for someone to come and keep the woman company even when she was only sleeping. It was more for their peace of mind than Maria’s anyway.

The treatments had left her more than a little worn out these days, and a good portion of her time was spent resting. Margot didn’t mind though. She was no stranger to hospitals or what happened in them. It was the reason she always came prepared with a secondary activity such as a book or some sort of craft. Today she was working on a cross stitch. It was an activity that Maria herself had introduced Margot to when she had been in college, and she still kept up with it, finding the repetitiveness of the motions soothing as she created a picture on the aida cloth. 

“You know you don’t have to come every Saturday.” A scratchy voice chided her from the bed. 

Without even looking up from her stitching, Margot replied. “Of course I do. Where else am I going to find peace and quiet and some decent conversation?” A wry grin twisted her lips. 

“Such a silly girl.” Maria shook her head fondly. “Now tell me what’s got you stabbing that cloth as though it kicked your dog.” 

Heat rose in her cheeks as she refused to meet Maria’s eyes. “It’s nothing.” she mumbled, stabbing her needle through the cloth again. 

“It’s never nothing.”

“It could be nothing.” 

“Margot.” Maria prompted gently.

“It’s fine.”

“Margot.” 

“It’s nothing.” Margot peaked up, looking to see if Maria was leveling her with that stare that demanded an answer. “Really, it’s nothing.” Maria continued to stare at her. “I saw Yoongi again.” Margot relented after a few moments after that stare. 

“Yoongi?” Maria asked, clearly trying to remember who the name belonged to. “What Yoongi? Not the one from university?” 

“That one.” she admitted, stabbing her needle through the aida cloth again so she didn’t have to look at Maria. 

“Isn’t that a good thing? You two were good friends.” 

Bitterness rose in her throat. They had been good friends, but a lot had changed since then. It hadn’t seemed like anything had changed at all when he’d first come to the restaurant. They’d slipped into old patterns as naturally as if the years hadn’t separated them, and then the bomb had dropped ,and the illusion had shattered. 

The Min Yoongi she’d been so excited to see again was not the same one she’d known when she’d been studying abroad. This was a man who she was solidly sure wasn’t involved in anything very legal when it came to business, especially if he was willing to terrorize people in the name of a loan, a loan she was also sure was less than legal after her conversation with Tae-il following Yoongi’s appearance. 

She just couldn’t wrap her head around how the Yoongi she’d known had turned into some sort of loan shark. He’d always been quite, kind of private. Some might have even described him as stand-offish, but he’d always been so sweet to her. When you got to know him there was a sweet and at times goofy guy under that hard shell. It didn’t make sense to her that he was now working on the other side of the law, that he was the cause of so much fear in Tae-il. 

“He’s not the same boy we all knew.” 

Maria shrugged. “None of us are the same as we were six years ago. Time changes people. It’s natural.” 

“Not like this. This was…” she paused, trying to think of the right words without giving too much away. Tae-il had been very clear that Maria didn’t know, and he didn’t want Maria to know. “This was something else. He’s not someone I would want to be around anymore.” 

Maria nodded in understanding. “Sometimes that happens, and you two haven’t seen each other in a long time. It’s natural you drifted apart, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.” Margot peeked over at her. “You and I both know you loved that boy.” Maria said, wagging a bony finger at her. “It broke your heart to leave him behind.” 

“He didn’t need to be such a jerk about it.” Margot reminded her. 

“No, but he was also heartbroken that you were leaving. That boy would have done anything to convince you to stay.”

She scoffed in disbelief. “He wasn’t heartbroken, and he knew there was no way for me to stay. I had to go home.” 

“He may have known that in here,” she tapped her forehead. “But here, that’s a different story.” she placed her hand above her heart, and Margot rolled her eyes, setting aside her stitching.  

“You’re acting like he was in love with me.” 

“He was!” Maria exclaimed with far more enthusiasm than a woman in her condition had any right to have. “Everyone could see it!” 

“He was not!” 

Maria shrugged again, pulling her robe around herself a little tighter. “Believe what you will, but that boy was crazy for you.”

“I think the meds are making you hallucinate, auntie.” Margot brushed her off, trying to ignore the heat that had rushed to her cheeks.

“Is it really as bad as all that? Can’t you two find a way to reconcile, get to know each other again?” She asked, peering at the younger woman curiously. “You two were such good friends, thick as thieves if I remember right.” 

Margot hesitated. She wanted to. She really did, but knowing what she did, she just couldn’t see a way to do that. “I don’t think so. I think that we’re both just too different now. He’s on a path that I want no part of.” 

“That’s a shame.” Maria sighed, leaning back into her pillows. “He really was such a nice boy. 

Part 3

[sunshinevanfleet]

oh, what a sin [iii]

iii. betrayals

pairing: danny x reader, sam x reader

a/n: ummmm ok this shit is an emotional rollercoaster. if u are sensitive like me i recommend lots of tissues ok i'm rlly good at making myself cry. i feel so bad for sammy lol. and it's all my fault!!! anyways, i am sorry this took so long i have been busy with work lately so it's taking me some time. also this is completely unedited so forgive me if there are any typos/mistakes. i hope you all enjoy. love ya <3

genre: angst!!! not full out smut but a lil bit.

word count: 4k

summary: the reader and danny have a heated moment. she admits their betrayal to sam.

warnings: angst, infidelity, sexual situations, swearing, etc.

A quiet breeze whispered through the open bathroom window as you relaxed in the bathtub; your feet hung over the edge, cooled by the late-afternoon air as you floated in the soapy water. Something about it was cathartic, your hair sprawled in tendrils around your face as you all but submerged yourself in the water. The sensory deprivation was exactly what you needed at a time like this, the water dulling all noise and your closed eyes blocking out most of the light spilling in through the open window. All that was left was the feeling of cool air caressing your skin, feather light. You were allowing yourself a few minutes to think about absolutely nothing. 

Home alone again, you had quickly busied yourself earlier in the day with all of the household chores. You washed Sam’s ever-growing mass of laundry piled beside the hamper, took Rosie for an afternoon walk, polished the silverware, and when you couldn’t imagine another thing to possibly do, you dusted the entire house. Lately, you did everything you could just to distract yourself from the worsening situation of your love life. Tension seemed to bloom in your relationship. Sam was his usual sugar sweet self, but… it felt all wrong. Although you had done nothing wrong, your emotions were traitorous. You felt like a liar, a cheater. You felt tainted by the very situation fate dragged you into all those years ago.

Hooking your fingers over the side of the tub, you emerged from your little empty paradise. You leaned over the edge, resting your chin on your arms as you met the curious gaze of Rosie curled up in a patch of golden sunlight. She blinked at you, her tail wagging lazily as she waited for you to acknowledge her. The corners of your mouth curled into a lethargic smile. There was a dull plinking as a few drops of water trickled off of your arm and hit the gilded foot of the tub. Your eyes followed the drops, tracing their trail down the metal to the tiny pool of water gathering on the tile. Watching the drops, you suddenly felt so small, so insignificant. In the grand scheme of things, what were you but a drop of water gathering in the greater pool of life? It made you feel a little better. Made your situation feel less cumbersome. 

You breathed a deep sigh, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against your forearms. “What am I supposed to do, Rosie girl?” you asked, voice echoing through the big empty bathroom.

It was quiet, save for the rhythmic thumping of her tail on the tile floor. You laughed softly at the ridiculousness of it all. What kind of advice were you seeking in the curious gaze of a dog? You shifted, planning on dunking yourself in the now-cold water once more before getting out, but a thump from down the hall disturbed you.

Rosie jumped to her feet, paws padding over to the closed door of the bathroom, blocking you both from the noise. 

“Think dad’s home early?” you pondered, forcing your stiff muscles to lift you out of the tub. Your gaze skirted over the shower, mind briefly flashing back to the last time you’d been in there with Sam, wrapped in his embrace without a care in the world. You wished with everything in you that you could go back to that moment in time. Before you were driving yourself crazy with a million questions and possibilities. 

Rosie whined as she waited for you to wrap a towel around yourself. Water trickled down your bare legs and left footprints on the floor behind you as you left the bathroom. A yawn left your lips as you languidly slipped down the hallway. There were a couple more thumps from Sam’s study, the door opened a sliver. As you approached, the sound of shuffling papers and movement became more apparent.

“Sammy, you’re home early,” you said, prodding the study door open with one toe as you peeked into the room. Your heart dropped into your stomach. It wasn’t Sam at all.

“What are you doing here?” you said, voice accusatory as you glared at the familiar face. It was Danny, looking disheveled as he dug through the mess on Sam’s desk. He glanced up at you, scoffing.

“Sam sent me,” he said, his voice cold. “Forgot his notebook.” He suddenly found what he was looking for, holding up the leather book. His large hands dwarfed the book, and you swallowed hard. Your mind painted a very good image of his hands dwarfing other things, things that you shouldn’t be thinking whilst standing before your boyfriend’s best friend in nothing but a towel. 

A frown played on your lips as you wrenched your gaze away from him. “Why’d he send you?” 

“He thought you’d be happy to see me,” said Danny, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You huffed. This new version of him was not very likable; always angry, his tone and words constantly edged with venom since your encounter back in the guest room at the twins’ house. He was angry with you, but what did he expect you to do when he came in there to interrogate you? He took it as a personal offense that you somehow, miraculously had fallen in love with Sam, as if you had known all the while that they were friends and that you had done it on purpose. 

“Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?” you asked indignantly. You tried to steady your shaking hands by gripping the towel tighter around yourself, trying to shield yourself from his sharp eyes.

“For what, Y/N?” He looked at you, his features expectant.

“For falling in love with him!” 

For a second, he looked taken aback, blinking at you as if you had sprouted a second head. Anyone looking in on the two of you might think you were in some kind of peculiar staring competition, the both of you watching each other expectantly. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, your half-clothed state suddenly very apparent to you. On your shoulder, there was still the ghost of the bite mark Sammy left on you the week before. You watched Danny’s eyes trail over the mark after a moment, and saw his jaw tighten. His expression flashed dark with emotion, but he masked it quickly.

“How am I supposed to?” His words were barely audible, coming from between clenched teeth. Though the tension wasn’t visible in his face, his knuckles were ashen from holding the notebook so tightly. His posture stiffened.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said, trying to sound stronger than you felt. 

He nodded, finally breaking the intense eye contact. “I know that, don’t you think I know that?” He sighed heavily, clearly frustrated with you. You swallowed. What were you supposed to do, read his mind?

One of your hands twisted in the fabric of the towel. You tightened it around your fingers so hard that it hurt, anything to distract you from the feeling that your ribs were compressing your lungs. Closer and closer. Harder and harder to breathe. 

“It’s the whole problem… How can I hate my best friend for having everything I want?” His anger and frustration finally began to color his tone. He wouldn’t look at you, but you could see his features pulled into an awful grimace. You hated seeing him like this. The compression in your chest grew worse by the second. 

You didn’t speak. You had no clue what to say.

“How—how am I supposed to sit there and watch you two? See the way he makes you laugh, see him kissing you like it’s the easiest thing in the world?” He met your eyes again, and you saw the pain behind his dark gaze. Even through the jealousy, through the anger, there was the cloudy tinge of heartbreak lurking in his irises. He dropped the notebook on the desk, crossing the room to close the space between you. It took everything in you not to flinch back, afraid of what would happen if your skin dared touch. 

His voice dropped to an almost imperceptible volume, one finger lifted to trace the crescent shaped bruise stained on your skin. “How am I supposed to see this, and act like I don’t care?” 

You took a shaky breath. His touch sent tingles over your skin, sent goosebumps erupting all over your body. He was so close, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, permeating the space air between you. Everything about him was so familiar, those thoughtful eyes, the curls framing his chiseled face, the shape of his mouth. Even his scent was driving you insane, almost intoxicating you. The very air around you seemed to vibrate from the magnetism between you. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to lean into him, touch him, kiss him. Squeezing your hands into tight fists, you shook your head. 

“You want this as badly as I do, and we both know it…”

The finger tracing the bite mark on your shoulder trailed down, lower and lower… His touch left a burning trail in its wake, your body igniting as he approached the towel clutched between your trembling fingers. 

“Danny–”

“You want me to stop?” His voice was a dark whisper, emotions tearing through his silken tone. You felt his hand trembling, too.

“Danny, I–”

“Tell me to stop,” you tasted his breath as it fanned over your lips. He was so close, so awfully, deliciously close to you. There was a second of hesitation, and then his lips were on you. One of his hands gripped you around the waist, bunching the towel up in a vice-like grip. His other hand threaded into the damp tresses of your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers.

You sighed with something like relief, the tension hanging in the air finally melting away and leaving you breathless. Your head spun, a thousand thoughts screaming nothing other than his name over and over again. Your brain wanted you to pull away, but your heart was pushing you closer to him, slotting your bodies together as if you were made for one another.

One of your hands grasped his arm to steady you, and your nails dug into the skin. He winced slightly, but you took no notice as he pushed you back against the door frame. The wood bit into the skin of your back, stinging. You grunted into his mouth, struggling against his grasp.

“Y/N, if you want me to stop–”

“Don’t fucking stop,” you muttered, intoxicated by his touch. You gripped the fabric of his t-shirt as if it were the only thing tethering you to the ground, trying to drag him closer. “Want this off,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He broke the kiss long enough to remove his shirt, before pressing himself back into you. His tongue pushed into your mouth carefully, slowly exploring, taking his time. You wrapped both hands around him, feeling the flex of his back muscles as he kept you pinned between him and the wall. You arched against him, hooking one leg up around his waist and rolling your hips against him. The drag of his jeans against your bare center sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

He was still kissing you, slowly as you grew more desperate for him. You needed him, now, before you had enough time to think about what you were doing. Before the guilt had time to settle in and make you stop. You had to know if it was the same as all those years before. If he was still the one to drive you mad.

As if reading your mind, his large hands found purchase on your thighs, pulling them up to wrap around your waist. He carried you easily to the couch against the far wall, letting you fall gently onto the leather. The towel shielding your body from view peeled open, exposing your bare flesh to him. His eyes dragged over your figure, drinking you in like a man stranded in the desert. His gaze flashed dark with lust, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

He dragged a finger over the curve of your cheek, over your swollen lips, down your clavicle, ghosted over one hardened nipple. He looked at you as if you were an art piece, your form masterfully sculpted and put on display for only him to see. He was memorizing every curve, every dip and hollow in your form. The look of tenderness in his eyes surprised you; the fear had been there all along that this was more than just lust, that the two of you shared more than just a physical connection. You had fooled yourself into thinking you only wanted him corporeally, when you knew he had you wrapped around his finger, body and soul.

There was the sudden feeling again that you were going to be sick, but his scorching touch distracted you from that quickly. His lips found purchase on your neck, placing sloppy kisses on the skin. You squirmed beneath him, heat having bloomed between your legs and quickly spreading up your spine. There was no way you could continue this at his pace; at this rate, he was going to be touching and teasing your body for hours. 

“Danny, hurry,” you muttered, nearly breathless as one of his hands slipped between your legs. A gasp broke from your lips, your back arching off of the couch as he touched you as if he had practiced for this very moment for years. You melted under his touch, one hand lazily hooked around the back of his neck as he took care of you.

“Wanna take my time,” he said, words muffled against your skin. 

“You–you can’t… What if S–”

“Sam…” He cut you off, his entire body stiffening as he pulled away from you. He leaned back on his haunches, wiping your arousal on the fabric of his jeans as he ran the other hand through his disheveled hair. “Fuck, Y/N, what are we doing?”

You gulped, abruptly aware of the situation you were currently in. The buzz from Danny’s touch had withered away immediately at the sound of Sam’s name. Shame bloomed over your features, and your face burned red hot as you struggled to cover yourself with the towel.

“I don’t know,” you said, voice high-pitched and nearly hysterical as the tears began to flow. He was right. What were the two of you doing? You curled into yourself, eyeing him carefully as he retrieved his shirt from the floor. You had just jeopardized all the good in your life for one encounter with Danny. Oh, how the past was coming back to haunt you. 

“What do we do?” He asked you, sighing heavily. 

You refused to look at him, staring at the bookshelves beside you. The tears burned your skin, flowing hot and landing heavily in your lap. You shook your head, your voice shaking as you replied, “I–I want you to go…”

His voice was hurt, but understanding. “You always do.”

Then, he was gone. You sulked off to bed after crying your eyes out. You hoped to fall asleep and wake up from this absolute nightmare. 

The following weeks weren’t much better. With the guys all home from the tour, you were spending more and more time trying to avoid Danny. He seemed to gravitate towards your house, spending hours lounging around with Sam. You hid away in the bedroom, or the study when you weren’t at work, listening to them brainstorm ideas for the next album, or laughing over their dumb inside jokes. It was unbearable. You wondered how Danny could keep his composure in the house; something was mind blowing about how he was able to mask his emotions, putting on a perfectly happy facade as if he weren’t eyeballing you behind Sam’s back.

Contrarily, you were doing an awful job of hiding your internal conflict.

“Maybe you should talk to someone, sweets,” Sam said one night, after a particularly grueling night having dinner with a few friends, including Danny. You shook all night long, stuck in Sam’s side like a thorn that was just out of reach. He hadn’t uttered a single word of complaint, holding your hand tightly as if he were your anchor. He made sure you ate, even just a few bites, included you in conversations, and didn’t get annoyed at all when you asked if you could wait for him in the car. 

Now, the two of you were finally home, curled up on the couch. You were half-dressed, his shirt and his shoes discarded by the door, while you wore only your slouchy denim shirt that you threw on for dinner. You curled your toes under his leg, warming them as you wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees. He watched you with a warm expression, too much tenderness saved for the likes of you.

“I don’t wanna talk to anyone,” you muttered, half hearted.

He looked at you with those puppy dog eyes, all soft and sweet. A slight frown played on his lips. “Not even me?” He raised an eyebrow.

You sighed heavily, turning your head so your cheek rested on your knee instead. You felt very suddenly like bursting into tears, but you held back. “Of course I want to talk to you, but…” A sharp breath fell from your lips, and you closed your eyes. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

“But what?” There it was again, that soft and gentle tone that you adored so much. That voice that made you feel like anything you ever did wrong would be forgiven. That tone, full of nothing but complete and unconditional love. You were hating yourself even more by the second. 

“I’m scared… I’m scared it’s going to hurt you. I’m scared it’s going to hurt you, and you won’t love me anymore.”

He shifted, wrapping his arms around your curled up frame. You felt his lips press against your temple, warm and comforting. Then, his voice was quiet, “There is very little you could do to make me stop loving you, Y/N.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, but he was already there, brushing it away. Your stomach fluttered at the touch; you reached up and grasped his hand, pulling it to your heart and cradling it there as if it were the only thing holding you together.

“What happened, sweets? Tell me so I can make it better, please,” his voice was pleading. “I hate seeing you like this… I want my girl back, my smiling girl…”

A weak sob wracked your frame, but his presence was grounding you. He was everything you needed. You were about to destroy that. 

“Sam, I–” you choked on your own tears, trying so hard not to break down in front of him. “I don’t even know how to say this– I– I know it’s going to tear you apart…”

You forced your eyes open, meeting the worry in his gaze. You made yourself look at him; you deserved this, after what you had done to him. You should have to face the consequences of your actions. 

“Y/N, please,” his voice was pleading, almost desperate.

“I–I kissed Danny,” you blurted, voice shaking so much that you could barely understand the words coming out of your mouth. “We had sex, years ago, before you and I met and– and I’ve had dreams about him for years, and I just… Well, I saw him at the party and it ignited all of these old feelings… Then he came over the other day to get your notebook and—” Your rambling was quickly drowned out by the sound of your own sobbing, your body shaking uncontrollably. You felt him pull away, saw the light in his eyes fade as you admitted to him your wrongdoing.

The look on his face was unlike anything you’d seen before; those tender eyes turned contemptuous, hurt staining them black. 

“Tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

You shook your head, practically hyperventilating. “No, no, not again…” Your voice was high, hysterical. “No, we–we stopped, before…”

“But you were going to.”

“Yes, I mean–No… I don’t know!” You buried your face in his shoulder, clawing at him, wanting him to just wrap his arms around you and hold you together before you fell to pieces. But his hands stayed limp at his sides, his breathing shallow. 

“Sammy, I’m begging you to forgive me,” you sobbed. Your tears were rolling down his bare chest, soaking his skin. He was still silent. You cried against him for a moment, then pulled away to look at him.

You were torturing yourself; seeing that look on his face was tearing you apart. His eyes brimmed with tears, and he shook his head slowly. He still hadn’t budged from his seated position, and he refused to meet your gaze. 

“Sam–”

“You understand that you’re the person I love the most in the world, don’t you?” He cut you off, finally looking at you. His tears began to fall, and his voice shook. You reached up with a shaking hand to brush the moisture off of his face. 

“Yes–yes, I do,” you nodded desperately. You were all but sitting on his lap now, doing anything to be close to him. Your world was falling apart before your eyes; you never imagined you would see your Sammy like this, so distant and hurt. A black feeling settled in your stomach, making you sick. 

“Then–” his voice cracked “--how could you do this to me?”

You crumbled beneath the look that he gave you. His eyes were red-rimmed, pouring tears, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to breathe. His jaw was clenched to the point that it looked painful. You reached for him, wanting to touch him, to soothe him, and he flinched away. A pang shot through your entire body at that. You felt as if you were being swallowed into a dark abyss. You would never know happiness again, not after this. 

“Baby, please,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears. “You–you said nothing would ever make you stop loving me… Please, tell me it’s still true…” You were begging him, desperate for any inkling of reassurance.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. “How can you ask me that right now?” He huffed, wiping his tears with the palms of his hands. “I love you so much I can’t fucking stand it, Y/N… I’m not gonna lie to try and hurt you, even if you’re tearing me to pieces right now… I could never do that to you.” He said it with so much sincerity, so much love still in his tone that it made you speechless. You pressed a hand over your face, silently sobbing harder. You felt like you would never catch your breath, your chest tightening as you squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t deserve him, you had never deserved him, and you were realizing that more by the second. 

The two of you sat there, for what felt like hours. Turmoil bloomed in Sam’s face. You wanted to know what was going on in his head, but didn’t think you would be able to handle knowing. You didn’t dare reach for him again, afraid you would have to watch him wince away again. You couldn’t bear the thought of it.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked after a while, your voice hoarse from crying.

He shook his head, barely looking at you.

“No, sweets. Just go to bed.” He nodded in the direction of the hallway. Your throat tightened at the sound of the pet name. You knew you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep, not without him beside you, but you did as he said. You would do anything he asked, if it meant he might forgive your transgressions.

taglist: @dannythedog @demolitionndann @malany-gvf @poeta-nascitur @myleftsock @spark-my-nature

[delusinalandpassionate]

Okay it's rather fun how I made such a big fuss about Don lacking Pride in her IDs only for two her latest versions both have Pride as a core sin.

Funny, isn't it?

But I guess, now having two of them, we could actually make some theories or ideas.

First of all, they are like genually happy, stable and satisfied with their lives.

Like ShiDon and WDon, if not actively miserable in their positions, don't like their job in a way they did when they only started.

Hammer Don is kinda difficult because she is genuinely happy(at least no signs of brainwashing that other sinners have), but there is something not right in this version of her.

Cinqixote and MiddleDon? They have happy, fulfilling lives, with no signs inner conflicts surrounding justice they inflinct, or cult menatlity and in MiddleDon's situation, she even has a community in which she is highly praised and considered fitting. And that is a completely new thing for her, but I guess as was mentioned in 5 Canto, it's much easier for her to fit in, when people match her energy, just like Middle.

So I would consider core Pride for Don, symbolise settling and committing to her "justice" even if she has to make a compromise. Is it really that bad if she takes money for defending good people? Is it really cruel to punish enemies of Middle if they did break a rule. It's insignificant in grand scheme of things.

(Fun fact she and Pirate Greg are only IDs, at least as I remember, who actively trying to harm or murder Dante

Also makes me wonder how exactly MiddleDon book has Dantes name if she's from another universe)

Envy in Middle Don is also rather easy because it suits Middle's color aesthetic and their strong bond between each other.

Wrath is interesting, because it suppose to be earning for justice, but it seems rather shallow in her.

(It’s also interesting, that while for her it surface sin, for Meursault its a core one, but at the same time with his character story we can see that for him committing Middle law is more important than for Don)

Cinqixote is...still difficult without any other Cinq ID to compare, but I guess again that her Lust is again her first impression, person who act before thinking without self-control, which is fastly proven to be wrong when we see how she made these things work for her.

Gloom is...weird, I guess we could consider that she's actually not that happy about compromises that she had to make, but we can't say it with confidence.

[orbmanson7]

Expressing Anger: An Extensive Analysis of Logan's Statement in SVS:R

Let's talk about Logan's statement here, shall we? (This is a very long post; continue at your own risk.)

The last plot-specific episode, Putting Others First (aka Selfishness vs Selflessness: Redux), showed something unique about Logan that I haven't seen many people mention. 

Logan spoke up about his frustration.

This may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but hear me out.

Typically, Logan states facts and provable truths; he sticks to what he knows and what he believes will be useful for the topic at hand.

However, he has had moments of frustration, annoyance, and anger, alongside other emotions that he may or may not even be aware of, that don't necessarily counter the facts he relays, but can change their meaning and interpretation. In these moments, something precedes Logan's anger and he has, at times, responded impulsively instead of thinking through his actions and deciding on a better move.

Take, for instance, the moment in Learning New Things About Ourselves where Roman and Logan argue for a second time about clarification, and Roman remarks that Logan wasn't just going "above and beyond" with clarity but that he was going "overboard" with it and that it was stupid. This finally bothers Logan enough that he crumples up the card in his fist and shouts as he throws it at Roman, hitting him in the eye. 

Now, Logan instantly expresses shock, confusion, and then regret after this moment, and then promptly apologizes for his behavior and suggests he should leave, likely to prevent the unusual situation from happening again.

Logan at no point in the rest of the episode addresses what caused him to react that way. He speaks on the initial argument he and Roman had, but focuses more on the root of the problem presented there and agrees to try to do better.

When it comes to his emotions, though, Logan's response is only to ever explain that he doesn't have emotions, which we (and everyone else) know is a lie, including Logan.

Because Logan doesn't bring up the frustration (and may have not fully realized it was frustration), there is no true reconciliation from Roman about what he said that upset Logan, nor from Logan about his harmful actions towards Roman.

This is a more common occurrence than one might come to expect, though, as Logan is either unwilling to or deems it unnecessary to address what causes his outbursts. And that's because anger doesn't just bubble out of nothing, especially not for him. 

Anger serves the purpose of notifying others of when they've crossed a boundary, getting them to stop or change their behavior, and standing up for what someone believes in or standing against something they don't.

So, fast-forward to Putting Others First, and the scene where Logan is asked to provide information from a "real philosopher" to support what Patton was trying to explain, only for Patton to hit "Skip All" and effectively remove Logan from the discussion.

This is something far beyond having your methods labeled "stupid" in an argument, as Patton had asked for his help and then when that help was provided, Patton didn't like it. But instead of saying as much (instead of beating around the bush about it), he quickly took advantage of Janus' trick to 'skip' over Logan's dialogue. We are shown that Logan is then removed from the scene entirely, and there is no response to this action. They simply move on in their discussion as though it meant nothing.

Later, when Logan (the actual Logan) resurfaces, he does something he has never done before. 

He expresses his frustration with the situation.

Well, I mean, he did technically admit once to being frustrated back in Moving On (Part 1), but that was only because everyone was also frustrated and he never mentioned anything about it beyond that. But in this particular instance in Putting Others First, he actually expresses himself in regards to his frustration.

He says it in a very passive-aggressive tone, stating "Not that any of you care, but I am unharmed. And I don't want to talk about it. I'm just here to deliver one last fact, and then I will do you all a favor and spare you my company."

This remark is full of anger, as anyone can see, but it's very interesting if we break it down and look deeper at each individual part.

First, he's addressing the other sides and Thomas' failure to respond to the action (wrongdoing) made against him by Patton (and Janus) earlier. He specifically says "not that any of you care," which is a very emotionally-charged thing to say for someone who prefers to stick to facts and stay objective.

He is assuming that they do not care, which could have easily been inferred by their lack of reaction and failure to respond to the action made against him. But even if it was true that they didn't care, Logan would have no way to know that this is absolutely true. (Note: I think they probably did care, even if they didn't show it, but they were all caught up in Thomas' problem and what Patton had to say about it that they pushed any concern for Logan down to a very low priority in that moment.) But he is stating this as though it is a fact.

This is odd because, as we've seen throughout the series, Logan doesn't often pick up on mood shifts and appropriate responses within conversation - his EQ (emotional quotient) is rather low, meaning he is prone to not always recognizing or understanding emotions (both his own or others'), not always picking up on body language or sarcasm or changes in tone, and not always knowing how to communicate effectively in certain situations.

However, there is one thing he seems to do when he's frustrated or annoyed that we've seen in multiple episodes, which is that he states what he thinks very bluntly. Now, this can be difficult to pick up on as Logan tends to speak very bluntly and concisely at all times, but the distinction to look for is the underlying emotion that is present in specific moments. 

Take, for example, his part in the Incomplete song from Learning New Things About Ourselves, after Thomas says, "Actually, that was for your benefit," and Logan responds, rather bluntly, "I don't see how that can be relevant." While this was rude within its context, he is mostly just speaking bluntly. He is saying outright that he doesn't understand why this has anything to do with the discussion they were having. However, he is frustrated because he thinks the song is a waste of time, and he wants to say this objectively and resolutely, but he is angry and that anger coats his words, whether intentional or not. As such, his comment about relevance doesn't sound like someone who's confused, it sounds like someone who thinks they know better and is rudely telling them off for doing something wrong (and that's how tone change works!).

And because his words are perceived as rude and undermining, everyone around him reacts emotionally, which Logan then responds to with emotion, as well. His anger becomes more prevalent as he goes head-to-head with Thomas, purposefully pinpointing Thomas' negligence and desire to distract himself from the actual issue (because that's what he thinks all this singing and puppets really is - another distraction from the work that needs to be done). It's not until later, when he realizes this was a creative way to work through the problem for Thomas and was not actually a distraction, that he releases the frustration and tension he had throughout most of the episode, where he then continues to speak bluntly but without that underlying emotion tinting it.

Back to Putting Others First, his remark that the others do not care is steeped in this same emotion (but far more intensely), and while his words may seem blunt because of how he's speaking, they are not blunt at all - they're actually very sharp! 

He is purposefully targeting them emotionally by saying "not that any of you care" and leaving no room for argument. He is stating it as if it were a fact, and likely knows that this will hurt them emotionally, to possibly give them pause to reflect on their own actions (or lack thereof) and feel regret. It's a form of retribution, something that anger is all about.

He wants them to feel how he felt.

In essence, this is a counter attack, a strike in return for the strike he received. 

Moving on, he states that he is unharmed. Again, he is stating this as a fact, likely because it is a fact - physically, at least. But why mention it?

He is, again, poking at their emotions, by bringing forward their disregard to his safety due to their actions (or lack thereof). By saying "I am unharmed," what he means is "I could have been." And with the precursor of "not that any of you care," he is implying that they wouldn't care if he was actually hurt, and stating it altogether as though he knows it's a fact. Again, this is a phrase built for retribution, it's meant to invoke an emotional response from the others, to bother them and make them regret what they've done (which seemed to work, given their reactions).

What's a little odd is that, if this was only about any kind of physical harm, the others should be able to easily recall Logan stating he (as a metaphysical being) could not be physically harmed back in Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts when he endured multiple 'attacks' from Remus. He showed that these have no real-world impact and kept very calm and unbothered throughout them all to prove to Thomas that things would be okay and not to be scared.

So if they remembered Logan couldn't be physically harmed, they would have no reason to worry if he was okay after what happened. But Logan knows how much they did worry back in Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts, so much so that he had to show them multiple times that he was perfectly fine.

So, given that Logan was angry in this moment and wanted to provoke an emotional response, this just adds to the fodder. He wanted them to think about if he had gotten hurt and how he believed they wouldn't care if that happened. He wanted them to feel bad for not caring about him, regardless of whether it was even possible for him to get hurt in the first place.

We'll not get into emotional harm here, as Logan wouldn't have admitted to it if that was the case, and while it has definitely had an emotional impact on him, he clearly didn't want to address that, which is why he didn't clarify the type of harm in his statement.

After this, he states "and I don't want to talk about it." Again, this is probably actually true, as he is speaking about himself and what he wants, and he would know with certainty if that is true or not. 

But here's the thing - when was the last time Logan has expressed what he wants? It's been a very long time, so I actually went ahead and rewatched old episodes to find this out. There are only 4 instances where he mentioned wanting or not wanting something throughout the series, the most recent being Learning New Things About Ourselves wherein he inferred that he didn't want to be seen as a joke because he needed to be taken seriously in order to do his job. The only instance where he has actually stated blatantly that he "wants" anything was in Accepting Anxiety (Part 1) when Thomas asked him if he wanted the other sides to weigh in on the issue, and Logan said that he did want that.

But, regardless, my point here is that this isn't really something Logan typically does. In this moment in Putting Others First, however, this is very significant, and the reason is because what Logan is doing here with this statement is establishing a boundary.

He is stating, resolutely, that he doesn't want to talk about his situation. He's expressed that he believes the others don't care about him and he's leaving it at that, with no room for their excuses, and then making it clear he wants everyone to move on with the discussion and not talk to him about it.

It's easy to think this may be untrue, that he does want to talk about it but that it's maybe 'too fresh a wound' to be comfortable doing so right now, but Logan is the type to be upfront and speak honestly. If he was bothered and wanted to discuss this later, he would have said that, even while angry. But what he stated instead was that he did not want to talk about it, establishing a clear and concise boundary, meaning the others should listen to that and respect it.

(This is also why Logan raises his voice afterward when Patton tries to placate him, which he just outright stated he did not want them to do.)

But like I mentioned already, this is one of the only times Logan has ever established a boundary for himself. He is someone who tends to find ways to adapt for the benefit of Thomas and the other sides, and this leaves him very open for making mistakes, experiencing failure, and enduring ridicule. And yet, through all this, he doesn't often state what he wants. He has, on many occasions, mentioned his suggestions for Thomas to improve himself, but he doesn't tell Thomas or the other sides that they need to adapt for him. He makes suggestions if there may be a benefit to Thomas (ex. telling Virgil and Patton to back off a bit in Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts), but he does not expect anyone to cater to his wants at all, which is why he is so surprised when he gets something he likes (ex. 12 Days of Christmas, Crofters The Musical). 

The point I'm getting at here is that Logan doesn't really establish boundaries, either because he's learned his won't be respected or because he knows he needs to adapt for the sake of others and placing rigid rules can keep him from adapting as flexibly as may be required to do his job.

A weird example off the top of my head here to better explain this, but if he established a boundary that he didn't want, let's say, cookies to be eaten during discussions he has with others, he may recognize there could be some sort of convention to eating as a multitasking behavior to keep Thomas focused, or that he needs to placate Patton or the others to maintain their interest in a particular topic, or maybe he will learn that they learn better through a reward system and thus will have to pull back this boundary because he's seen that the pros outweigh the cons, no matter his reason for establishing the boundary in the first place.

It makes sense he doesn't want to waste time putting some rigid rule in place if he thinks it may need to be changed later in order to do his job, and especially if the other sides won't respect it anyway.

This is why we should fully believe that he means what he says about not wanting "to talk about it" and that Thomas and the other sides need to respect the boundary he just established.

Alright, moving on. Next, Logan explains that he only returned to give one last fact before he will be taking his leave again. This is less emotionally-charged than the rest of the statement, but there is still emotion there. He's telling them that he only came back to teach Thomas something here, so he is both saying he doesn't want to be around them but also that his priority here is his function and use to Thomas, not the other sides. If he didn't have anything useful to say, he likely would have never shown back up at all. Thankfully, though, he did, as it gave him a chance to express his anger, even though he's clearly holding a lot of it back.

But it's important to note here that Logan is playing in to part of the problem he's having, by only appearing in the discussion to fulfill his role and nothing more. He has come to recognize, especially due to events of this episode, that he is only needed to provide information to Thomas, and that (apparently) even that has its limits. Based on their words and actions, Logan believes the other sides do not want him to be included in the discussion. This was probably already the case long before this episode, given that he chose to use a less "invasive" method for his participation, only to be told immediately by Roman that he was unsuccessful in this. Logan would not have been making efforts to exclude his presence unless he knew it was something the other sides wanted. He doesn't decide things on a whim, he would have to have come to the conclusion that this was the best approach.

I specify "the other sides" here, by the way, because I don't know how true it is of each individual side or about Thomas' view on this, and I'm sure Logan isn't fully certain about that, either. Unfortunately, due to the events of Putting Others First, Logan may be more inclined to believe Thomas doesn't want him there, but there may still be hope that Thomas does.

So, Logan is playing into his role with this part of his statement, both indicating that this is what he thinks the others want of him (to be absent from the discussion) and that he may believe this is all he can properly provide to them at this point. And what I mean by that is that Logan may believe the others are right to not want him around, or that he may only be useful if he is limited to serving his function to Thomas and nothing more. This isn't true, of course, but if a situation is presented with the same conclusion over and over again, you're more likely to believe that that conclusion will always remain the same. It's understandable if Logan has come to believe this may be true, even if he hopes it's not.

On that sad note, we get to the last part of Logan's statement, which is possibly the part with the most emotion, though that emotion is less anger and more sadness.

He finishes his statement by saying, "and then I will do you all a favor and spare you my company."

There's...a lot here. Like I stated just before this, Logan believes the other sides do not want him around. And while, at face value, this sentence indicates that by leaving, he is doing what they want - in reality, that isn't the full story. Because this part is said with that underlying emotion - two of them, actually - anger and sadness.

The anger is directed at them and the wrongdoing that was committed against Logan, but the sadness is more directed at what Logan sees to be the likely truth. He is angry that the other sides dismiss him and don't want him there, but he is also saddened by this, especially because he thinks it must be a fact.

Hope is hard to have in the face of knowledge, after all. I may want to believe the sky is orange, but there's a hell of a lot of proof that it's blue, you know?

Positive thinking only gets you so far, and at some point, you just have to face the facts and try to keep moving forward despite the negativity of the truth. And that's what Logan has been doing, he's lost that hope that maybe there is some silver lining to how he's been treated, that maybe if he adapts enough then he'll finally be accepted, but this episode, this moment, must have been one of the absolute last straws for him, as he is certain of this truth now.

If anything, he can put that positive thinking to use for their benefit instead, and also be passive-aggressive again. This is why he says "I'll do you all a favor" in reference to him leaving. It's not just what they want, it's his gift to them. A big, shitty gift, one that hurt him a lot, but this is what they wanted, right? And shoving that in their faces, again, serves to enact that same retribution as before. He wants them to know he's been hurt and wants them to feel bad for what they've done. The only difference this time is that he's not just angry, he's sad because he knows it won't change anything.

Lastly, I want to note that he specifically refers to his presence as "my company" which I found kind of interesting. It's just a synonym, sure, but 'company' is usually used to infer companionship, that it's time spent with someone who you like to have around or someone who complements or matches you.

So for him to specifically use the phrase "spare you my company," he is either saying 1 of 2 things here - either 1) that he still sees them all as equals, but that he recognizes they cannot be companions with him by definition because they don't want to spend time with him, or 2) that he no longer wants to be considered companions because they do not want him around and that he wants this connection severed.

Overall, it seems this statement from Logan is embedded with emotion, namely anger, and he said it with the intent of causing an emotional reaction from the others. He expressed his frustration.

Now, it'll only be a matter of whether this is ever addressed in the next episode (one that's not an Asides) and if anyone bothers to reflect on or change their behavior regarding it to see its true effect on Logan.

One last thing I'd like to note:

Decisions made of anger are often impulsive and not well thought-out, they are driven by emotion and the need to feel vindicated. This can often evoke regret, the feeling that you made the wrong decision after having the benefit of hindsight.

It is completely possible that Logan may retract the statement he made in this episode. He may review it later and realize he was too emotional, and since he wants to be seen as serious and someone who makes objective decisions, he may regret his decision to speak in the way he did.

He may decide that establishing a boundary could hinder his ability to continue adapting to Thomas' needs and may wish to retract his statement to prevent this becoming a problem, but I doubt he would need to as Logan's personal concerns are very rarely brought into any discussion.

And he may still have hope that some of what he treated as fact was not actually true, and that the other sides do care or that he perhaps has another chance to change himself for their betterment.

That being said, he may come to regret this decision but may stick by it, either out of spite or failure to receive the retribution he desired. He might have come to believe much of what he said was factual and saw no need to counter it, or still has the barest hope that things can improve if he just keeps trying.

In the end, my hope is that this moment is given more meaning in the future, even if it's not addressed right away in the next episode. I would prefer Logan either finally stand up for himself and deal with the potential discord that comes from it, or that the others attempt to reflect on their behavior towards him and begin to change their ways. Obviously, Logan also has some work to do in that regard, but it would ultimately do him some good to speak his mind and genuinely express himself more often.

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Looking at all the twst dreams on your page popping up on my fyp reminds of this dream I had where I was royalty and I was forced to pick a suitor, two of which happened to be Jade and Floyd. I felt really awkward about the whole thing so to take some tension away from the situation I held this pool party with all my suitors to get our minds off the arranged engagement. I remember we started playing Marco Polo and Floyd pulling me under the water and kissing me, then all of a sudden I was 1/2

Hehe I can do that!! Hope you enjoy~!

Featuring Adeuce as your attendants because my silly little brain said "You should add the one braincell duo to this for no reason!!"

Warning(s): arranged marriage (kinda. I mean, you have a choice, but still), forced kissing from Floyd, poisoning, blood/vomiting

You don't really want to be in this situation, but it can't exactly be helped...

You see, your kingdom... isn't in the best of states. And well, things are only going to get worse if you don't marry someone from a powerful family.

"Hey, (Y/N), they're here." One of your attendants, Ace, said peeking his head through your door. "They, as in the uh, guys you're gonna marry. Your, um, suitors. One's getting really impatient, you'd better get out here."

"Yeah, yeah, let them know I'll be out soon..." You said.

"Will do!" Ace winked. "Oh! And apparently, two of them are identical twins! It's really freaky."

You know that in the grand scheme of things, your problem of choosing a suitor is pretty insignificant, but you're really stressed right now...

"Ah! Hi (Y/N), follow me!" Deuce (another one of your attendants) said to you, waving. "Come on, you have... I think eight potential suitors waiting for you? I'm not sure. We'll find out when we get there!"

"Eight? That's... more than I was expecting..." You said to yourself.

"Apparently it's actually less than we were expecting." Deuce whispered to you. "Just between you and me, who are you thinking of choosing to marry?"

"I have no idea, Deuce, I haven't even met them yet." You said to him.

"Yeah, I guess you have a point." Deuce jokingly asked. "It's sad you have to do this, but look on the bright side! It's for the greater good of our country, right? Oh! Uh! We should get going, shouldn't we?"

"Y-yes, let's get going..."

Your potential suitors were... not too interesting.

Except for that strange pair of twins... but for whatever reason, you didn't exactly feel like you could trust them...

"Hey, (Y/N), you chosen someone yet?" Ace asked you that night, handing you a plate of food. "Though, if I'm being honest, none of them really look your type."

"This is all too stressful and awkward..." You said. "How am I supposed to marry one of these people when I don't know anything about them aside from their names?"

"Well, you have a few days to choose one, don't you?" Ace asked. "You can get to know them in that time. Maybe hold some kind of event to get to know them? Like speed-dating or something."

"That's a good idea." You admitted. "And maybe... maybe it can help relieve tension! I'm sure the other suitors feel the same, I bet they're all feeling awkward about this too... yeah! That'll help put everyone's minds off this whole thing!"

"Oh? You got an idea?"

"We'll have a pool party tomorrow!" You excitedly declared.

"Ooh! That is a good idea!" Ace said to you, smiling. "I'll get someone to clean out the pool and have it decorated for tomorrow!"

Tomorrow is sure to be a wonderful day!

The next day, you were delighted to show your suitors to the pool.

"Today, we're all just going to relax, understand? So like... you aren't all competing to marry me today. Today, we're all just... we're all friends today!"

Everyone looked like they understood..

Yep, looks like today's going to be great!

"Oh! You have a pool? Nice." One of the teal haired twins asked you. "Is it saltwater?"

"Yes, actually!" You responded.

"Oh, cool." He said, a distant-looking smile on his face. "My name's Floyd, by the way. But you knew that already. Since we're engaged and all that-"

"We're not engaged yet." You told him.

"Ehe... you're really short, you know that?" Floyd asked. "I can tell you're gonna choose me."

"Right, well, as I said, we're just relaxing today, s-so no talking about the whole marriage thing, got it...?" You asked.

"Yeah yeah, I got it..." He rolled his eyes jokingly. "Well I guess let's get in the pool!"

...that's right. Everyone's supposed to be relaxing. You included.

Eventually, somebody suggested that everyone should play marco polo! How fun!

With your eyes shut, you blindly stumbled around the pool, shouting out "Marco" every now and again to try and find where everyone was to hopefully tag one of them and have them take your place of blindly walking around.

Then, you heard someone whisper "Polo" right in your ear.

Then, you were pulled under the water and- are they kissing you? This is the exact thing you were trying to take your mind off of!

You opened your eyes to see who it was, and...

It was... Floyd?!

You pushed him away from you and stood up, coughing up the water you'd gotten in your nose and mouth.

"What the HELL, Floyd?!" You yelled out in anger. He just smirked and shrugged.

From there, everything went downhill.

It seems everybody assumed that him kissing you symbolized that the marriage competition was back on.

As everyone started fighting with each other, you silently got out of the pool, and decided to go back inside. Nobody even noticed you leave.

"Well, (Y/N), today didn't go well, but... you know, I'm sure tomorrow will be better!" Deuce told you. "Hey! Apparently you're gonna be doing some ballroom dancing tomorrow! Doesn't that sound fun?"

"No. Not with what happened today." You said.

"I'm sure that whatever happens tomorrow, it won't be worse than today!"

Deuce was wrong with that statement. Oh, he was so wrong.

"Ah, (Y/N)." One of the two Leech twins greeted you as you entered the ballroom. You couldn't tell which one it was, they were nearly completely identical and you didn't know how to tell them apart yet.

"Hello, um..."

"Jade. Jade Leech." He looked amused. "I just wanted to let you know that I deeply apologize for my brother's actions yesterday. What he did was entirely inappropriate, especially considering you had specifically told him and everyone else that the competition for your hand was off for that day."

"At least one of you has common sense." You sighed.

"May I have this dance, your highness~?"

You grabbed Jade's hand and he immediately pulled you into a dance.

You two danced the waltz together. Strangely enough, you found yourself calming down.

Jade is a nice man, but... again, there's something just off-putting about him and his brother. You're definitely not going to marry him, but at least he's nice.

"By the way, (Y/N), I made you a drink, it's just over there if you want it." Jade told you, pointing over to a table near the wall. "And you needn't worry. It's not poisoned, I promise you."

"I... didn't think it was...?"

"Yes, well, your servants thought it was." Jade snickered to himself. "They've tested it for you. And their test proved it was not. I'm aware this may make it sound suspicious. but... you trust me, don't you?"

When the dance finished, you remembered that Jade made you a drink. It's been tested for poison, apparently, and it looks delicious...

What's the harm?

The drink, whatever it was, tasted so... interesting. It was like seven different kinds of fruit, but it didn't taste bad, or anything... it was amazing! You should absolutely compliment him the next time you see him!

For some reason, that night, you went to bed with a terrible stomachache.

When you woke up the next morning, you could tell something was absolutely not right.

"Rise and shine, your highness!" Deuce said, entering your room and opening your window's curtains.

"Wakey-wakey! We made breakfast for ya!" Ace happily said, putting a plate of food on your bedside table.

"Um... (Y/N)? Are you ok?" Deuce asked. "You don't look well at all..."

"Yeah, now that Deucey mentions it... you're not looking too hot. You feeling ok?"

Then, out of nowhere, you threw up on your bedsheets.

Except... it wasn't vomit that had came out of your mouth. It was blood.

"(Y/N)?!"

"What just happened?! A-are you ok?!"

"You bloody idiot, of course they aren't ok! They were clearly poisoned, Deuce!"

"I'm panicking! What else do you expect me to ask?! Who did this to you?!"

"YES!"

"How are they supposed to know who specifically poisoned them?!"

"I don't know, but it'd be better than asking 'ArE yOu Ok?!?!', dumbass!!"

"Whatever! We need to go find someone to help them!"

"Yeah, you're right, but still!" Ace sighed. "(Y/N), we'll be right back with someone who knows what to do in this situation, ok?!"

As soon as those two left, another two people entered your room.

"Heeeeey, (Y/N)~!"

"Greetings. Did you enjoy the drink I made you last night?"

It was the two identical twin sons of the Leech family.

"...you did this to me...!" You said, realizing exactly what Jade was insinuating.

"Yes, yes I did..." Jade gave you a fake sad face. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to choose me."

"W-why would I choose you to marry if you... poisoned me?" You asked.

"Oh poor dear. You don't understand, do you?" Jade asked. "You see, it's a slow-acting poison unique to where I live. And that means only I can cure you."

"We're going to share ya! Of course you'll be married to Jade, but he's already said he'd be fine with it!!" Floyd gave a toothy grin.

"It's true. So you don't even have to choose between the two of us!"

"Why would I ever choose to marry you?!" You asked, before throwing up blood once more.

"Why, it's quite simple, (Y/N)." Jade chuckled to himself. "It's because I know how to make the antidote to that unique poison... and if you don't marry me, well..." Jade had one of the most terrifying smiles you've ever seen. "Then I will simply leave you to die here!"

...

What other choice do you have in this scenario?!

"F-fine, Jade, I'll... I'll marry you!" You started tearing up.

"Perfect. I would've hated to have you vomit up your guts as you writhed on the floor in agony."

"That's a lie and you know it, Jade. You would've thought it was hilarious." Floyd added.

"That was uncalled for, Floyd. Even though it might be true."

Wow. You're being forced into a marriage- well, you were already being forced to marry someone, but this is basically blackmail...

Oh well.

Nothing you can do about it now...

[itsclydebitches]

Clyde, I’m angry because they’re doing it again. They had the opportunity to make a complex situation and they’re making black and white again, Clyde. I’m not happy. I’m very angry, Clyde. The fact that Jaune isn’t allowed to lash out for a second when a village he was protecting was destroyed while Ruby can bitch and moan about a burden she placed on her shoulders really makes me fucking angry, Clyde. Duck this SHOW. Christ.

I feel you 🤣

I do understand the fans - RWDE included - who are fully anti-Jaune because yeah, in the grand scheme of things it's a problem that he is again allowed to hog the emotional spotlight when we've got a cast of four to develop. But within the non-meta context of the story and what we have to work with... hard agree. My problem with the focus of Ruby's meltdown isn't simply that she's complaining about something she actively took from others with horrific consequences (though that is a huge part of it), but that it's explicitly pitted against the death of Jaune's village. Yes, we can infer that Ruby is upset about a lot of things - like Penny - but that's not what's written in this scene. So what you end up with is:

Jaune: I'm lashing out because the family I've been protecting for years in my unimaginable isolation have all been killed and my supposed friends are calling me crazy and won't even acknowledge that this is a true loss

Ruby: I'm lashing out because my self-imposed leadership has gotten too hard for me to handle and my teammates haven't noticed that I'm crumbling under the authority I demanded others grant me

The middle part of that is the only part of Ruby's meltdown I agree with - yes, her teammates have been awful to her since landing in Ever After and I HATE that Yang's sisterhood/Weiss' partnership/Blake's supposed pride in Ruby have all but disappeared - but that's only a small part of her underlying complaint which is... that she got what she wanted? Ruby wanted to call the shots and now she's pissed that people expect her to call the shots. Like yeah, you can (and often should) write a character who regrets their choices, but if they don't acknowledge their agency in those choices (which Ruby veeeery much hasn't) they just come across as a selfish asshole. Which is also a great archetype! ... just maybe not in the supposedly innocent, pure soul meant to be a pretty simplistically good hero?

Then you toss in the fact that Ruby's meltdown is contrasted with Jaune's and things look so much worse. Ruby is regretting her own choices. Jaune is grieving countless deaths at the hands of an established villain and the narrative's uncomfortable suicide metaphor. These are not the same. These are not even CLOSE to comparable and the only way you can try to weigh them equally is if you a) toss in all Ruby's trauma which explicitly isn't brought up or b) buy into her idea that the Paper Pleasers are "make believe" and therefore their loss is of no emotional consequence. Sorry, but that doesn't work for me in a story that (originally) positioned Penny as a person despite not being human AND in an episode that JUST had the girls prioritizing the Paper Pleasers' perspective over Jaune's. The story can't criticize Jaune for not listening to the highly-articulate, autonomous beings and then also claim they're nothing but insignificant figments of his imagination. It's one or the other. If the Paper Pleasers are "human" enough to treat their desire to die with respect, than they're "human" enough for Jaune to grieve the hell out of when they're gone. Plus, I know a lot of people won't buy into this because we didn't see the relationship develop on screen, but Jaune spent years with these non-human people who act innocent and silly and a little bit "dumb" sometimes. That sounds a lot like Penny! If Ruby is subtexually lashing out because she's still grieving a non-human friend she had for a year and two-ish months... why would we expect Jaune's grief to be any less after loosing a whole village of those friends after years of living together? He's grieving countless Pennys all at the same time, after all that time being alone. This basically takes Ruby's situation and magnifies it by a hundred: what if you had LOTS of friends die and the world ACTUALLY forced you into being the hero (Jaune becoming the Rusted Knight) and instead of just being ignored for two days, you were without your friends and family for two decades?

Seriously, Jaune's situation is a lot like Ruby's situation just with trauma squared - right down to him being a leader - except he didn't bring much of this down on his own head. Having these two meltdowns in the same scene isn't just a problem because Jaune gets more emotional screentime, it's a problem because I can't take Ruby seriously compared to the insane horrors Jaune is enduring beside her.

[rennivere]

"How can you say that?" she demanded, her voice rising with indignation. "How can you stand there and tell me that the lives of countless people, the bonds they've formed, the struggles they've endured—they mean nothing to you?" Emet-Selch regarded her with an unwavering gaze, his expression impassive. "Because in the grand scheme of things, they are insignificant," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "Mere fleeting moments in the tapestry of existence. They are but grains of sand in the hourglass of time, destined to be swept away by the inexorable tide of fate, unless we Ascians succeed in the Rejoining. Only then can we have any hope of returning life and meaning to these broken, meager creatures."

She knew he was there long before he actually announced his presence, but she thought - or hoped - that if she deigned to acknowledge his presence, perhaps he'd slip back into whatever shadowy portal he climbed out of.

But Emet-Selch was far too insufferable to do that.

The grass crunched beneath her boots as she finally stopped in her tracks, piercing the glowing crystalline end of her staff into the dirt as her head fell back, eyes squinting as she peered up at the blinding daylight that filtered in through the overarching tree tops that loomed high overhead. She sighed bitterly, tapping the metal tips of her false claws against the rod of her staff, trying to decide if she wanted to acknowledge the shadowless shadow that trailed behind her.

In the end, she let her eyes slide shut, shoulders slumping.

"Have you not done enough? What, have you come to gloat?" She asked bitterly, turning to peer over her shoulder as the man meandered up to her side.

She snorted as his hands rose in a shrug, prompting her eyes to give a slight forward roll as a scowl took over her face - not unlike the one the Ascian began to sport as he replied.

"Gloat? You wound me. Do not blame me for your lack of honesty with your friends up until now. Speaking of your friends though... given their absence, I assume they took it... well?"

"Piss off," Aletheia sneered, whipping forwards as she continued to walk. Behind her, she heard the Ascian sigh. She didn't have to look at him to know he had dipped back into a defeated slouch.

She was right, of course. Emet-Selch gave a shake of his head before slowly beginning to follow after the mage once again, seemingly content to ignore her dismissal.

Before long, Emet-Selch began to match her pace, his presence a persistent shadow at her side. She could feel his gaze boring into her, silently looming, demanding her attention. With a resigned sigh, the mage turned to face him once more, her expression a mixture of frustration and defiance.

"What do you want, Emet-Selch?" She asked, her tone tinged with irritation.

The Ascian met her gaze with a knowing smirk, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement.

"Oh, I want many things," he replied casually, sarcasm dripping from every word. "But in this moment, I simply find it fascinating to observe the consequences of one's actions,"

Aletheia narrowed her eyes at him, a spark of anger flickering in her silvery gaze.

"Save your lectures. I have no need of them to realize my own folly," she retorted, turning away from him once more.

Emet-Selch didn't relent. He continued to walk beside her, his presence serving as a constant reminder of her situation with the Scions. Despite her best efforts to ignore him, his words continued to worm through her mind, stirring up a whirlwind of uncertainty.

As they journeyed deeper into the forest, Aletheia's frustration began to mount, her patience wearing thin with every step. Finally, unable to bear his presence any longer, she whirled around to face him, her voice tight with suppressed anger.

"Enough!" she snapped, her words echoing through the trees, "I tire of your games, Emet-Selch. If you have something to say, then say it. Otherwise, leave me be."

Her words had the Ascian pausing, responding first with a series of slow blinks, hovering somewhere between mildly surprised and unimpressed.

"My, you are a fiery one, aren't you?" He mused, his words bringing a deeper scowl to Theia's lips. "I told you when first we saw each other on the First: I wish to observe. I wish to understand: to see what inspires you to fight, day after day. You especially fascinate me, given your upbringing. You already know what drives us, why we seek the Rejoining... and yet, here you are, primed to oppose us."

Silence followed Emet-Selch's words, as Aletheia's eyes narrowed at the Ascian, her jaw flexing. If she considered answering earnestly, her expression didn't show it. For the time, she seemed content to remain silent, glowering at the Ascian as he peered down at her. Eventually, Emet-Selch sighed, head giving a shake as his hands rose in a shrug.

"Keep to your silence if you must, but if there is any hope of us seeing eye-to-eye, then it requires you to speak," he snorted.

Aletheia's gaze hardened, her resolve steeling against Emet-Selch's probing. She had no intention of revealing her inner thoughts to him, especially not after his relentless taunting. But even as she remained steadfast in her silence, a part of her couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was right.

With a frustrated huff, she turned away from him once more, quickening her pace as she sought to put some distance between them. But no matter how fast she walked, Emet-Selch remained at her side, a persistent reminder of the turmoil churning within her.

"My entire life..."

Her words broke the silence between them after some minutes, startling the Ascian just enough to have him pausing briefly in his stride before falling back into step beside her as she continued.

"...I was taught by you and yours that the people of the Source and its shards were expendable. Weak, meager, barely living creatures. Sorry excuses for life. But when the Emissary tasked me with seeking out the Scions, I learned first hand that none of that was true. These people had lives of their own, history, family, loves. They had faced trials and overcome them. Together, we defeated Primals, and reveled in the joy of those we saved."

"I began to realize that these people were worth far more than I had been led to believe, and when Hydaelyn spoke to me, I knew her words were true."

As Aletheia spoke, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, her words carrying the weight of a lifetime of revelations. She felt a sense of liberation in finally expressing the conflict that had been brewing within her, a tumultuous storm of doubt and conviction.

Emet-Selch listened intently, his expression unreadable as he absorbed her words. For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a hint of recognition, perhaps, or even understanding. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the inscrutable mask he wore so well.

"Hydaelyn," he mused, the name falling from his lips like a whisper on the wind. "A curious choice of ally, considering her role in all of this."

Aletheia bristled at the mention of Hydaelyn, her defenses rising instinctively. She had no intention of letting Emet-Selch sow doubt in her mind, not after everything she had witnessed and experienced.

"Say what you will about Hydaelyn, but she showed me the truth, and she gave me the ability to see through the veil the Ascians tried to cast over my eyes," she replied, her voice steady and unwavering.

Emet-Selch regarded her with a thoughtful expression, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently. There was a calculating glint in his eyes, a spark of something that sent a shiver down Aletheia's spine.

"You are a fascinating contradiction, Aletheia," he said, his voice low and measured. "A product of your upbringing, yet capable of seeing beyond what you were taught - even if it is all simply a weave of lies and half-truths meant to deceive you."

She snorted in response, finding the Ascian's words almost comical.

"Rich, coming from you," she sneered.

"Nothing you were taught in your upbringing was ever a lie," the man said firmly, his resolve making Aletheia momentarily pause in her step, slowing to peer at him once more. Her silvery gaze was sharp as it locked on Emet-Selch's own golden orbs, narrowing in search of any sign of dishonesty.

But there was none.

Emet-Selch's assertion caught Aletheia off guard. She had expected him to deflect or obfuscate, not to affirm the teachings of the Ascians so unequivocally.

"Nothing?" she echoed, her voice tinged with skepticism. "You would have me believe that everything I was taught—the idea that life on the Source and its shards is insignificant, disposable—was the truth?"

Emet-Selch met her gaze with a steady stare, his expression unreadable but tinged with a hint of something resembling regret.

For what, Aletheia couldn't be sure.

"Yes," he replied simply. "The truth of the world as we know it is far more complex than you can imagine, hero. The balance of life and death, light and shadow—it is all part of a grand design that stretches far beyond the confines of your mortal understanding."

Aletheia's mind raced with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. There was a fleeting moment, while the Ascian spoke, that she wondered. There was much she did not know, much she did not understand. But could she trust Emet-Selch, of all people, to tell her the truth? She doubted it.

"But what about the people I've met, the lives I've seen saved?" she protested, her voice steady despite her frustration. "Are you truly telling me that none of that matters?"

Emet-Selch's expression softened, a hint of sympathy flickering in his eyes, and for a moment he simply looked at her, chin raising as if something had dawned on the man. For a time, Aletheia thought he might concede, that perhaps her words had struck the right chord in the Ascian's mind.

Alas, that was far from the case.

"Yes, I am," he uttered bluntly.

Aletheia's heart sank at Emet-Selch's stark affirmation. It felt like a blow to her very core, a confirmation of her worst fears. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he would offer some glimmer of empathy, some acknowledgment of the value of the lives she had fought so hard to protect. But his cold dismissal only served to fuel the fire of her defiance.

"How can you say that?" she demanded, her voice rising with indignation. "How can you stand there and tell me that the lives of countless people, the bonds they've formed, the struggles they've endured—they mean nothing to you?"

Emet-Selch regarded her with an unwavering gaze, his expression impassive.

"Because in the grand scheme of things, they are insignificant," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "Mere fleeting moments in the tapestry of existence. They are but grains of sand in the hourglass of time, destined to be swept away by the inexorable tide of fate, unless we Ascians succeed in the Rejoining. Only then can we have any hope of returning life and meaning to these broken, meager creatures."

Aletheia's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to contain the storm of emotions raging within her. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the callousness of his words, but she knew it would do no good. Emet-Selch was unmoved by her anger, unaffected by her pain.

"Is that what you truly believe?" Aletheia's voice was strained, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of fury and disbelief. She couldn't fathom how anyone could be so devoid of empathy, so utterly indifferent to the suffering of others.

Emet-Selch regarded her with a detached air, as if he were merely an observer in a play unfolding before him.

"It is not a matter of belief, Aletheia," he replied coolly. "It is simply the nature of our existence. We Ascians have a duty, and if that duty requires sacrifice, then so be it."

"You speak of duty as if it justifies everything," she seethed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "But what about the lives you destroy in the name of your so-called Rejoining? What about the families torn apart, the dreams shattered, the futures erased? Do they mean nothing to you?"

Emet-Selch's gaze remained unfazed, his expression unchanged as he met her fiery stare with a calm resolve.

"They are but casualties of a war far greater than they can comprehend," he stated flatly. "Their suffering is regrettable to some, I suppose, but it is necessary for the restoration of our world, our existence."

Nothing in Emet-Selch's words were different enough to warrant Aletheia pause, and yet she did. For a moment, she returned to silence, brows furrowed enough to crease her skin as she peered at the Ascian. He stared back, a brow quirked questioningly.

"Then tell me of it," she finally demanded. "Tell me of this world you fight so hard to restore."

Emet-Selch's lips curled into a sardonic smile, as if he found Aletheia's request amusing. "Ah, you wish to hear of the world beyond the veil of ignorance," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Very well, if it will satisfy your curiosity."

But before Emet-Selch could delve into his tale, the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs shattered the tranquility of the forest, and Aletheia's senses snapped back to reality. She whirled around, staff at the ready, only to find herself surrounded by a group of armed figures clad in dark robes.

"Sineaters! Surround them!" Spoke one of the offenders - a large beast of a man, with white fur and a dark mane, but a gaze hardly befitting a fighter.

As Aletheia became aware of just how surrounded they had become, she conceded, jaw clenching as she slowly leaned to set her staff on the dirt, raising with her hands held in submission.

"We are not sineaters," she insisted calmly, gaze darting to the side as she caught a glimpse of Emet-Selch similarly surrendering beside her.

"Oh dear," the Ascian muttered, tone dripping with dry humor, "Would be a shame if I left you to deal with this all on your own, hm?"

"Don't you dare," Aletheia hissed, mildly aware of the quiet, bewildered muttering from the robed defenders around them as they discussed whether or not the surrounded pair were in fact sineaters or not.

"You're no fun at all," Emet-Selch mused, giving a little tut of his tongue - although to his credit, he did not opt to fade into the shadows.

"Lower your arms,"

A familiar voice had Aletheia's gaze snapping forward, a small smile tugging onto her lips.

"Master Matoya...?" the large Ronso questioned, turning his full body to face the approaching Miqo'te.

"These are not sineaters. Not unless they have learned to mimic the voice of long lost friends,"

The woman's tone began to drip with amusement, though as Y'shtola approached, Theia could hardly miss the way her brows furrowed with uncertainty.

"Is it truly you? Urianger told me of your arrival, and of your endeavors against the Lightwardens, but I will admit... I was not prepared for just how corrupted by the light your aether would be. He also failed to mention that you would be joining them in Rak'tika, or that you would be accompanied by... a new friend?"

Aletheia lowered her arms as the woman spoke, leaning down to fetch her staff from the ground before taking a stride forward, a hand reaching out towards the Miqo'te - which Y'shtola obliged, taking a few strides towards the Warrior to place her gloved hand in Aletheia's own.

She went to speak, but Y'shtola's description of Emet-Selch had Aletheia snorting, her nose giving a brief wrinkle as she glanced over her shoulder towards aforementioned 'friend', who simply shrugged in response, remaining silent - for once.

"It is a... very long story. I ventured here on my own, in hopes of finding you," she explained, her words slowing at the end as her eyes narrowed - not in suspicion, but intrigue, a slight grin tugging at the corner of her lips, "Master Matoya?"

"Ah," the Miqo'te deadpanned, "Yes. It seems we both have much to share. I'm afraid you just missed Urianger and the others, but pray, follow me. Let us get out of this damnable light and back into the shade so we can talk,"

"Yes, let's," Emet-Selch muttered behind them, causing Aletheia to softly sigh. It seemed like the Ascian had every intention of sticking around.

That would certainly make certain confessions... particularly interesting.

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Candace thinks she insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. And we know that Phineas and Ferb literally have some sort of effect on the probability of the universe that shifts it towards their favor, in addition to the fact they are creative engineering geniuses.

But I'd like to posit that Candace is NOT insignificant compared to her brothers. It's just that the circumstances of this particular universe we follow keeps Candace's skill set, a skill set far more suited to stressful situations, from shining. It may seem counter intuitive seeing as Phineas is the endless well of positivity in dangerous situations while Candace freaks out, and that Phineas and Ferb are great at developing solutions to world ending problems. But again, this is the context of this particular universe, where PNF's positivity is usually enough. Candace is great when that isn't enough, and when sheer grit and determination is needed. Hope says things will be okay. Courage is fighting even when you aren't sure it will be. Candace is the latter.

Candace is good for situations involving conflict, particularly physical conflict. Candace is practical, clever, passionate and physically powerful. This is the girl who yelled at a dinosaur because she thought the situation was beyond saving. She can wrestle an alligator, herself no problem. Can run the same speed as a car through suburbs. Can do the splits easily, can do a super complicated dive, can swim long distances, bike long distances, managed to get a van in the air while driving.

As the series progresses and she gets more used to wild situations, she starts reacting less explosively, growing into the trusted cool older sister that Phineas and Ferb saw her as the whole time. 2D is the most obvious evidence for her potential, turning into a badass resistance leader while her brothers act more timid. Though I think Star Wars Candace also shows flavors of this, choosing to join a military. She's a key player in arresting Mitch both times, returning Morg and his friends to their bodies (and prison), and almost single handedly took down Super Super Big Doctor's invading force. She has no issues fighting evil robot versions of her loved ones (and Perry being in Africa is the part of that she questions). Kimpaloon Ultimatium I think is peak Candace in her element, getting acknowledgement for her skills (Klimpaloon mimicry, getting placed in charge), and in the end "sacrifices" herself so the boys can get Klimpaloon to safety, no benefit to her.

She's also apparently a natural leader, at least the universe keeps putting her in leadership positions, even temporarily. Queen of the Ants, Queen of Mars, Mayor for a day, Queen Wahini of the Beach, Rutabaga Princess, doppelgänger to Princess Baldegunde alternate her is a resistance leader. While many of these are merely ceremonial, she still accelerates the ants development as a society, maybe teaches the Martians about music, convinces people to make her Mayor for a Day position more than ceremonial, rallied a bunch of older sisters into believing in busting. And this isn't even mentioning 2D her is a resistance leader.

In the universe we mostly follow, Candace's brothers are safe. There's no danger. So she puts all her effort into busting her brothers, which is a losing battle because the only thing stronger than Candace is the mysterious force. (Which to be fair, it if wasn't for her brother's extreme luck, much of what they do would be dangerous).

I'm not saying Candace needs to be under threat to be successful however, and as the series progresses Candace does chill out and is able to actually thrive in her peaceful circumstances. And Candace does seem to be at her happiest when she's not stressing about busting her brothers. But these are not situations in which Candace is going to come across as extraordinary. And I'm not saying Phineas and Ferb wouldn't survive in a more conflict heavy world. Phineas may have gotten disheartened in Summer Belongs to You, but he came around. And though 2D Phineas and Ferb were more timid, it didn't take much to get them involved. But I think that Candace would be the more successful person so to speak in those settings. She's almost an action heroine in a slice of life comedy situation.

[sweetfirebird]

*boops you gently and respectfully* A Suitable Consort is a massive comfort read for me, it is so gentle and lovely, and people not understanding their worth or position in other people's lives is so personal and beautiful to me. Please never stop writing because I love your work, and ASC is probably in my top five book ever so, you know.

People sometimes get a little cranky about author tropes, how every author has favorites and does them a lot... maybe too much. (Although those people are still reading them, so, there's a real Devil's Sacrament situation happening there but anyway.) But honestly, I really like exploring...not just insecure people in general but people who have insecurities about specific things, like their place in the world or in their families. Like (I know no one read TTC but as an example,) Trevor is not really insecure. He knows his art is good, but he lives in a world where it's never going to pay him enough to be "successful" as his family sees it and that takes a toll. And showing that, and how it affects him, and his place within the family and his confidence... and how he is still loved and can make his own family... idk I just like it. I'm going to keep doing it and oh well too bad so sad for those who are tired of it.

Mattin is, in the grand scheme of things, insignificant, and (in the words of whoever wrote the movie Gigi) does not have a world-famous sort of nature. He got a first hand lesson in how expendable even noble lives can be, and while I do think he is cute, he's not drop dead gorgeous or anything. He's good at his job but also... many people in that library are good at their jobs. He knows all of that. And he is surrounded by fucking *legends.* Like, if you've ever been around someone with all the skills or charisma or brilliance, it is a definite experience even if you're fine with yourself as you are.

He's not wrong when he describes himself as he does. But, like all of us, he can't really see how others view him. (He's loyal. He sticks, like Mil says. He's honest and probably incapable of lying well. He's quite talented and smart and his employees love him--that alone says a lot. And Arden and Mil think he is very fuckable.) And, all the drama and armor and political murder aside, it's a love story. That is, it's not about them falling in love, they're all clearly already in love at the start. It's about them showing their love for each other. You are worth everything to me and I will protect you is being said by all of them to each other all the time, just in differing ways and not out loud.

Anyway. I'm sort of at a loose end today for various reasons and kind of down, so this was a nice ask to get. I was scared it was going to be a spam bot, since they keep sending me barely coherent messages. Thank you for the nice mail and also for not being a bot trying to proposition me. :)

[elegantsplendour]

Dance of the Court (Dance of the Empire Series Part I)

Chapter 4 See You Again

Aemond Targaryen’s life was a battle, a relentless one against a seemingly inescapable destiny of becoming another insignificant Targaryen royal, riding an ordinary dragon, holding a hollow position in court, accompanied by a mediocre noble woman, doomed to be forgotten in history. Aegon, on the other hand, had everything handed to him, a fierce dragon hatched upon his birth, the prestige and recognition that came with being the firstborn son and the potential birthright to inherit the Iron Throne.

Aemond Targaryen wanted everything and was ready to steal, scheme and slaughter.

But when his mother proposed to invite the eldest daughter of Tyland Lannister to accompany him, he was caught off-guard. Was he, the second son, the spare, truly promised of the “Beauty of Casterly Rock” and an alliance with the house sitting on a mountain of gold? Promise was a stranger to the One-Eyed Prince, as he had always been a taker, just as he claimed the largest dragon in the world.

Although Aemond had never been naive enough to assume that his untimely victory on Driftmark would result in no consequences, having his eye gouged out by his nephew had been a whole another ordeal. Every detail of that fateful night was etched onto his heart: the excruciating vulnerability as he screamed with agony, the scorching hatred for his whore of a half-sister while she suggested he to be “sharply questioned” for speaking the truth, the shame and anger he harboured against himself for not having been more observant of Lucerys’ moves and not being a more skilled warrior, the unquenchable thirst for revenge devouring his soul while he had to suppress it for the sake of the situation.

Today, Aemond witnessed his repressed greed and thirst for vengeance manifesting themselves in a new form - the dark brown eyes of Katherine Lannister. It was well-hidden behind her facade of delicate and innocent beauty, but something as vile as greed could never be subdued. The way she clung to his arm when Aegon made his depraved remark was almost as if she was him - the One-Eyed Prince himself.

Aemond took a deep breath as he took off his eye-patch and closed his eye, his mind wandering to the pretty face of the young Lannister, the way her sweet voice conveyed subtle calculation and a rare conviction, the way her head held high yet still remained soft and feminine, the way her silky skin touched his, the way her golden dress showed off her curves, the way her dark eyes beaming with raw curiosity, thrill and admiration as he told her he wanted everything.

He had felt lust before, though he didn’t like to admit it. The last thing he wanted was to succumb to an abhorrent lifestyle like his wastrel brother, who bedded half, if not more, of the whores on the Silk Streets. Thank the gods his mother married Helaena to Leo Tyrell, the noble and handsome heir of Highgarden, and not Aegon.

But this was like nothing he had experienced. It was no doubt - The One-Eyed Prince desired the Exquisitely Odd Lannister, and with that, he allowed his hands and mind to wander. For the first time for as long as Aemond could remember, a part of his mind that used to be consumed thirst of vengeance was replaced by hope, because he knew, he will see her again.

The young Lannister paced in her chamber, contemplating the beginning of the start of her new life in the Red Keep.

Her chamber was wide and majestic, bathed in beige and white, filled with faint scents of orchid and included a grand balcony with a splendid view of King’s Landing. Truthfully, Katherine had expected her chamber to be decorated with the dominant Hightower green or the intimidating Targaryen scarlet, implicitly demanding her allegiance and loyalty to the Green faction of House Targaryen. She felt a sense of reassurance as the Queen Alicent must have given the instructions to decorate her chamber with a neutral and elegant palette, intending for her to feel comfortable and at ease by surrounding her an architectural style that she thought represented Katherine Lannister.

Stepping on to the balcony, she gasp at the bustling night of King’s Landing showing before her feet. Closing her eyes, Katherine took a deep breath. She was in King’s Landing, free of the vile insults, manipulations and lustful eyes of Casterly Rock, yet she knew she escaped from one prison and entered another. This one, potentially far more dangerous, but it had meant stepping foot into the centre of power, knowledge, adventures and unknown. Katherine Lannister would rather die screaming in agony as her greed for more burnt her than submitting to fate.

The Lannisters had never been her family. Not now, not before, not ever. Katherine seethed with anger as she trailed her fingers over the roses, still feeling the sting of the thorn. It was like her family, always pricking and hurting her, never showing any affection or care. Everyone at Casterly Rock looked at her with pity, saying that her usual beauty in the House of the Lion was a blessing and a curse. Fuck them all, she thought.

Tyland never looked at her the way he did with his half-siblings, Alerie Tyrell’s children, with affection and warmth. In the Lannister men’s eyes, she was a fruit of a failed marriage, of a stubborn marriage, to be used for the gains of their House. They were ready to sell her to the highest bidder, for her to become some lord’s breeding mare and trophy. Katherine could not remember how many times she had wished to spit on her father and uncles’ face when they lectured her on her duty to their house.

Fuck your duty, she had cursed secretly. The only duty I owe is to myself and my own happiness. She had never felt like she belonged in Casterly Rock, surrounded by a family that despised her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had always been an outsider in their world. But now, she was in King’s Landing, free from their grasp, and ready to make a name for herself.

As she licked the blood from her cut, she chuckled, mind drifting to the One-Eyed Prince. He was just like her, ambitious and unapologetic, not afraid to go after what he wanted. “And what is it that you want, Prince Aemond?” she had asked him. “Everything,” his answer calm and simple.

Katherine admired his audacity. How much strength must a man possess to speak of malicious rumours about him with such ease and eloquence? She wondered if Aemond had revealed his desires to anyone else, but the question quickly dissipated. Revealing such ambitions as the second son would’ve made him appear foolish, unwise, and presumptuous. Her lips formed a slight smile at this realization.

Aemond Targaryen’s gaze at his elder brother brought her back to the cruel taunting of her half-siblings: the fire devouring her soul while she decided to maintain her innocent facade, the sentiment of containing a flicker of flame from exploding.

As she went back into her chamber, she sank into the warm, fragrant bathwater, feeling the tension slowly melt away from her muscles. Unconsciously, her mind drifted back to the One-Eyed Prince’s beautifully slander figure, deep, resonant voice, his exquisite silver hair, his violet remaining eye gazing through her soul and the scar above his eyepatch, covering parts of himself he kept away hidden from the world, obstructive on his Valyrian ethereal features.

The Exquisitely Odd Lannister knew that they would most likely to be betrothed. She bit her lips at the thought. For some reason, she felt hopeful about the future in which they would become partners in this game, for she had never met someone who had sparked her soul as he did at first sight. For the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful, because she will see him again.

[autumnnnsun]

Bleh personal nitpick about some people’s reaction to AK: Endfield spoilers that got a bit longer than I initially intended to but

MmmmmH don’t like the way some people talk about the temporary cure for Oripathy found in Arknights Endfield. We’ll assume that there isn’t any other twist or smth for now, but saying stuff like “We lost, we couldn’t cure oripathy, we couldn’t save our operators, we’ll never find a cure, our operators are doomed.” When it’s like…

First of all, I don’t even think the main point of Arknight’s story is to even find a cure for Oripathy? Like yeah it’s a part of it, Oripathy is big thing in Arknights and treating it to lessen it’s effects and helping the Infected is the reason why like 70% of the operators and characters are in Rhodes Island but “Finding a cure for Oripathy.” Wasn’t the point of Arknight’s story. It’s about finding hope in a hopeless and war torn world, how small bits of kindness and love matter in the grand scheme of insignificance.

Oripathy is one of the many insurmountable odds thrown at Terra’s way and the Doctor was close to curing it before they lost their memory but that’s simply to add to the tragedy of the situation. Rhodes Island still tries though, they still try to help the Infected and give them a place to live and strive even when every other place oppresses them. And yes a cure for Oripathy is the ultimate goal but just because that (temporary) cure appears generations ahead doesn’t mean that the things Rhodes Island does now means nothing or was a disappointment or that our operators now are “doomed”. Like, how incurable Oripathy was and the fact that every operator here still keeps going is the point brah.

Also just the reaction ticks off my brain in a personal way cus like how are you gonna look at a temporary cure for the most awful disease in Terra and go “aw man.” WHU???WHAT DO YOU MEAN BRUH, THIS IS HUGE???

They’re fictional characters so it doesn’t matter and I can say whatever but I feel like if you tell any operator that there is at least a temporary cure for Oripathy in the distant future they’d all feel some level of relief before going on with their day. Also yeah, equating fictional stuff with irl stuff is #Cringe but imagine finding out there is a temporary cure for cancer or smth in 300 years and then looking at all our current cancer patients and telling them “Well I guess this means your doomed and couldn’t be saved.” LIKE WHAT.

[journey-to-balance]

Essays: 9 Roads to a Calm Mind

In the busy rhythm of modern life, keeping a quiet, calm mind seems like a quest for rare treasure. Yet, my years of practicing living slowly have taught me that calmness is an attainable state nurtured through simple and intentional practices that root us in the present, bringing us a sense of peace and acceptance.

The garden is changing by the day. Warm spring days are well on their way with new blooms popping up everywhere. I know because I observe nature closely, using it as a guide. This is my first proven way to a balanced and calm mind.

#1. Living in tune with nature and adapting her pace.

Spending time outdoors, surrounded by nature quite literally alters our brain chemistry. It lowers our anxiety, stress levels, and risk of depression.

Personally, it also makes me realize that although I am a one of a kind individual, I am also part of a greater whole, and my worries are pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So I might as well take things in stride.

Hello early spring sunshine!

I feel the same about gardening. It connects me to earth's natural rhythms. In fact, gardening teaches that life unfolds in seasons and cycles. It's much easier to accept and enjoy our season of life than to force ourselves to bloom when we are not ready, or even keep on blooming when it feels like winter in our hearts.

Not all seasons of life are as glamorous as summer, but they are necessary for our development and growth.

On a lovely sunny morning after a few months of searching, I found the perfect vintage writer's desk. I resolved to give it a second, rather cozy life.

This leads me to my second point to cultivating mental peace. That is...

#2. Not chasing short lived trends. This world is designed to make us want more. New 'trends' are artificially created to make us feel like we are missing out.

There is tranquility in choosing to shop local, shop small, shop handmade, or vintage whenever possible - like the second-hand furniture shop I found on the outskirts of town just over 20 years ago and have been frequenting ever since.

Moving on...

#3. My third way to keeping mental peace is to look at things through the prism of a child.

Children are incredibly rooted in the moment, being present, without worrying about abstract or future issues. Naturally, these skills are needed in our life, but sometimes dark thoughts can draw any light away from our world.

This is when we should take an example from our children and focus on the here and now.

#4. Practicing self-care that includes physical movement is my fourth way to keeping a calm mind.

Did you know that our body can store stress and worries?

It will show up as aches and pains, stiffness, and tension.

Something as simple as daily walks with my dog help me to release physical tension which in turn alleviates my mental stress.

I'm a passionate advocate for physical movement because it cultivates self awareness and encourages kindness toward ourselves.

#5. On that vein, I emphasize self-forgiveness and avoiding overthinking.

We all have been in a situation when we did or said something out of place... or at least we believe it so.

Nothing will clutter our mind and take away our mental peace like beating ourselves over and over about the past, or often, even a small thing.

Practicing self-forgiveness and silencing an overactive mind is the way to encourage a healthier internal dialogue where calmness can flourish.

I deeply believe that our homes influence our inner state.

It's never been about having a Pinterest worthy house, but making our homes a cozy, and safe environment, and that leads me to

#6. A peaceful, uncluttered house, a clean house, acts as a buffer against external chaos, becoming a retreat where we can recharge and reflect.

In addition to aesthetics, a peaceful home environment means prioritizing surrounding ourselves with people with whom we can be ourselves and are accepted for who we are, thus living in a welcoming, nurturing environment where we feel safe, heard, respected without our boundaries being crossed.

#7. Maintaining a small, supportive circle, surrounding ourselves with a close-knit community, be it family, friends, neighbors or even kind and caring co-workers, provides emotional security and a sense of belonging which are essential elements for mental peace.

In our modern world we are becoming more and more isolated, making it all the more important to maintain real-life contact, even if its the act of exchanging a simple "hello" with a neighbor or engaging in a small chat with one of the many people who provide a service to us on a daily basis.

#8. Planning Ahead. Having some sort of plan really helps maintain a peaceful and calm mind.

Understanding our finances, knowing exactly when our bills are due, and living within our means really goes a long way in helping to put our minds at rest. The same can be said for having a clear list of any appointments and to do's.

We sleep better knowing that important dates are all in our calendar, not having to rely on committing something to memory all the time which only creates stress and mental clutter.

#9. Finally, I'd say my ninth way to seeking calm is to stay selective and stay private, choosing to stay in my lane, and in my business.

Friend, I've gotten to the point in my life where I don't care who's mad, why they're mad, and who they're actively recruiting to be mad with them.

It's peaceful over here.

Remember, whatever we're not changing, we're choosing.

I wish us many blessings, and peace.

Essays - 9 Roads To a Calm Mind - Our Journey to Balance

[the-owl-tree]

quick i need the names of your anthro ocs and their worst personality traits!

the cast is big because i have no restraint so i'll pick the three i've actually show cased lol

Ridley my beautiful bearded vulture struggles with issues of self-loathing and emotional constipation lol horrible at vocalizing his feelings and often just...walks away from stressful or emotional situations. Very grateful when she gets the chance to punch shit, Eva would try harder to get her to express her emotions through methods other than violence but eh! A minion with no reservations around violence is a lot more useful.

Eva (who's name I'm thinking of changing to Lottie) craves importance to the point of self-loathing how miserably at the bottom of the food chain she is. For all her bluster of one day being top dog, she's painfully aware of just how insignificant she is in the grand scheme of things. It doesn't help her stupid dumb ex with her stupid dumb face is now some big shot hero or whatever...

Kyanna, sheepie from here, is uh...selfish? She doesn't try to be but she tends to prioritize herself, her needs, and her desires over everything else. But she's a former villain! She's used to take what she wants when she wants it, and her childhood consisted of being told just that. She's chilled out now on her little farm and with her partner, but she's still got a bit of a mean streak. Oh, and she holds a grudge like her life depends on it.

[saltymongoose]

Something I've always thought about ever since the beggining of the self aware au:

What if the player was actually really big? I'm talking 4 mag agents stacked on top of eachother type of big. Idk I just wanted to hear your opinion on that even if it isnt whats going on in the actual au.

Like the auditor goes into players bedroom and has to use ALL of his energy to pick us up and bring us to nevada and the main 4 just kinda looking up at us once we escape and going like "how in the actual fuck did the auditor even keep you hidden for more than a second"

Okay so, to provide context for this answer I'm including this image for scale (from the wiki):

A MAG is like 2.5-3 times the size of Hank, so if you were four times the height of a MAG you'd be 10-12 times Hank's. In this AU, this means you'd be like 70'10" (2159 cm) to 85' (2590.8 cm) tall, so needless to say, really god damn big. You tower over buildings and could probably hold Gestalt like a child, so to normal grunts you'd be completely horrifying. Your size also makes it really hard for them to injure you; at best their blades are like little annoying splinters and their lower caliber ammunition has a hard time even penetrating your skin. So not only are you the height of a skyscraper, you're also almost completely invulnerable.

But if you thought your vessels would react negatively to this, you'd be dead wrong. To make a comparison, you know how Markiplier simped for Lady Dimitrescu in his RE8 playthrough? That's pretty much the main 3's response to your actual form haha. Hank and Deimos are especially starstruck by the sheer power you exude; when it comes to otherworldly influences, you're everything they expected and more. You could do the simplest thing like stand up and stretch and they'd be completely amazed, it's honestly really funny. They fawn over you constantly; Deimos always compliments your strength and your appearance (because really, the fact that you're such a tall figure just accentuates your beauty to him) and Hank just stares at you all lovestruck as you loom over him.

Sanford is more humbled by your height than anything, it makes him realize how small and vulnerable he can actually be (odd, considering his prowess at his occupation but that just makes the idea more impactful) and how insignificant he could've been. It makes him feel even more grateful for you taking notice of him, as compared to you he's really nothing special. The weight of your attention is more impactful to him, and he can't help the giddy grin that comes to his face as you direct your gaze to him. It also makes him oddly shy in this regard too.

2BDamned is really just astounded by you. How did the Auditor even manage to get you to Nevada against your will, much less hide you from its other denizens? Are all humans this tall? He'll take it as an opportunity to ask a lot of questions about you, not only to keep your attention on him but because he's fascinated by you. He will also admit that having someone so grand and powerful take even the smallest interest in him makes him feel a little flustered. Although, it also increases his own shame at his previous doubt of you too. In his mind, there's nothing you could possibly gain from them. You were more powerful than they could ever be from the beginning, so it's clear to him that you must be doing this out of genuine goodwill than for any underlying scheme. He doesn't feel like he really deserves your attention as a result, so he'll shower you with as much affection and interest as he can and follow your every word, if only so he believes that he's finally worthy of you.

Also, their thoughts aside, your height would make their battles kinda hilarious too. The moment you see that any of them are in trouble, you can literally just pick them up and keep them away from the entire situation. I mean, you could really just bat the enemies into a wall or something if you wanted to as well. But you don't because the adoring, excited way the boys look up at you whenever they eliminate someone is kinda cute. And it gives you the opportunity to praise them, which never fails to make them giddy. Although you do have to sit down to see exactly what they're doing, which is absolutely terrifying to the agents they have to fight. Like imagine having the three (or four, if Doc's there) most wanted criminals in Nevada try to break into the facility you work in, and then when you exit the building to try and stop them from getting in, a gargantuan shadow covers the entire place. You look up to see a creature that's too different and big to be a MAG (one with exposed facial features and colorful skin??) just gazing at you like you're an ant as they nonchalantly puppet your enemies with a single hand. Total eldritch horror moment for them before your boys eradicate them lol.

[roydeezed]

"What's in a name?" asks Juliet.

To me, darling Juliet, everything.

What are words if not names for the human experience?

Fluid, ever-changing, tongue-shifting attempts at naming the ineffable. Love songs dedicated to describing that same burning, roiling feeling that's roared through our chest cavities over the years and decades and centuries and millennia. Eulogies grasping at words, trying to find any that fit the hole left behind. Empty promises of ephemeral allegiances and arrangements. All names for the things that we are so eager to shape and form. What's in a name? Everything.

I was looking at the new pictures from the James Webb telescope , 19 Spiral Galaxies defined in colours and shapes and names worthy of Shakespeare's greatest tragedies; NGC 1300. NGC 3627, and NGC 5068 among others, and I was struck once again by that familiar feeling I get every time the sky clears up and stars sparkle in the not-so-light-polluted urban sprawl of my perpetually twilight city. That feeling of insignificance. The words I'm writing, in the minutes in the hour and day of the specific year I'm writing it in and in the language it's written in are all as insignificant as me in the grand scheme of things. A speck in the cosmic and temporal sense. Maybe even less.

But then I remember philosophy class from High School, me hunched over my cell phone, biting the skin off of my thumb in nervousness as I read about the lava like crawl of Donald Trump to the south of the border and his march against the weight of words, the zero-g fervour he seemed to incite amongst the disllusioned. My, friend, _ _ _ _, clapped me on the back and asked me why I was so anxious. In Philosophy we learned about the beliefs of individuals and groups across the ages and the role the specificity and semantics of words played in that. And maybe it was also because of my teachers Robin William-esque ability to bring forth the idealism within us, but I answered quite earnestly, though in a much angrier and less elegant way, "I was worried about words." Or more like, I was worried about the degradation of meaning. Of that losing of form that words gave to things. That power names had to define. That birthday party sleight of hand ability to manifest meaning like a coin behind the ear.

And unfortunately that worry wasn't unfounded. As I once again see the march of demagoguery in my own country and the erosion of meaning from the mouths of Pierre Poilievre and Danielle Smith, I can't help but think of those galaxies once again. They're a red shift snapshot in time, eternally changing, eroding and disappearing outside of that time the pictures captured. May be that's what we are. Just a snapshot. It's in the nature of things to change and maybe that erosion is just a part of the process.

My friend, _ _ _ _, is formed by the letters that make up his name. Four letters in sequence that I know him as. I see him as that snapshot in time from that year, white shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled in the sleeve, a poor pastiche of Alex Turner's poor pastiche of a greaser, as we walked by ponds and forests playing Pokemon Go as the summer heat beat down, the star seemingly having a mid life crisis as it attempted to hinder our progress in catching them all. I wonder if Ponyboy would've ever been excited to hunt down a Dragonite. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's a little bit of an asshole, fond of playing the devil's advocate in any situation possible, arguing to the point of semantic cage matches. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's indescribably kind, taking on every burden possible to help others. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's as close to a soulmate I've ever met, the platonic ideal of a friend with whom I can pick a conversation after not having seen for over a year. There will come a moment where I'll see him for the last time. Where shortly after, in the grand scheme of things, the life will leave his body and the four letters in a sequence that make him up will cease to refer to the body he was, an eroding, decomposing, soon to be formless mass that nature will redistribute into new forms. Thus is the nature of things.

But it's in that moment where we are formed that we mean something. Over Thirteen Billion Years ago was when it all began to form. Or so the Big Bang Theory purports. And no, not the Bazinga! spouting excuse for a sitcom that's co-opted the term, though I'm sure the idea's in there somewhere. No, I mean that cosmic theory of everything, everywhere, all at once. That idea that galaxies and all that we know as the universe began to form and expand moments after a big explosion of light. Much like how words and letters and names shape the people, places, things, and ideas that we so hold dear, and much like how there was moments before they existed and there will be moments after they've ceased to exist, the moments where they hold shape, however brief in the temporal and cosmic scale, are the moments where they matter. The moments where things have names, that second hand's worth of time on the universal clock where that concept even matters, is everything. It's all we'll know. And in that sense, all that matters.