#whatever. It’s a burden having this much knowledge.

[terrainofheartfelt]

The Jeopardy contestants just embarrassed themselves by not knowing anything about Anne of Green Gables so I called them Philistines and my dad said “Liz, would you lighten up?” and I went: “No!”

[dandyshucks]

me waking up at 6am this morning and immediately having the thought "maybe Guz still gets angry a lot because strong emotions are difficult if not impossible to control esp if its rooted in abuse trauma BUT he learns how to apologize, and thus - especially in the beginning - he would lash out as an automatic response but quickly realize what he's doing and apologize for it and we'd move on and be okay" like it had been beamed into my brain from some divine source.

also junebug (waves. thats literally just me.) would have to do their own hard work to learn to not automatically fawn when someone starts seeming the littlest bit potentially displeased or unhappy (because that is unhealthy for all parties involved). they'd BOTH be putting in the work to make it work !!!!!! 🎉

[orcelito]

Really is a coping kinda night huh lmao

[kittykatinabag]

While I greatly enjoy the subject of place making in urban design, I utterly hate the amount of pandering to capital holders a lot (if not most) of current "place making professionals" do in their work.

[moonsaver]

Warning; yandere, entirely ooc because idk anything ab moze other than the fact he might be an assassin.. whatever.

--

Moze likes watching you.

It's more curiosity than infatuation, at least at first.

Why do you like that perfume? Why do you like those colors? Why do you like certain foods and patterns? It's new to him, the way he seems to cling to your information.

He's not unfamiliar per se, but the implication is clear – he hasn't felt this sense of curiosity about anyone before. A few meager, short lines are enough before he sweeps up another mission. But he doubts he'll be satiated with even the pages worth of information he knows about you.

He ghosts you, sometimes. It's slightly.. endearing, the way you almost jump out of your skin from a small tickle or a whisper. The way your sleeping body unconsciously shivers when his rough hand trails up your bare back, goosebumps rising at the graze of his calluses on your skin, the way you stiffen when you feel someone breathe down your neck only to turn around and see no one there. The way your fingers twitch when his hand ghosts them. The slight flicker in your eyes when you think someone's whispered your name in a crowd. He sees it all.

He just needs a sure-fire way to get rid of.. obstacles. Rudimentary personalities that fill the gap between you and him. And considering his skills, it'll be no time until you're left vulnerable and grasping for any company. Perhaps he'll make sure to visit the marketplace where you'll inevitably be, succumbing to routine despite your mournful state.

He visits you, of course he does. But the risk of being discovered by you instills many feelings in him, contrasting to the indifference when his target spots him. He doesn't like the risk of being discovered – not when his diligent hands scan through your room, nor when he stalks you constantly anywhere, or when he maps out the measurements of your body. But another part of him, finds a sort of perverse pleasure in trying to imagine how you might react.. although distasteful, the idea of that burden of having to hide away his.. hobby, finally lifting from his shoulders is something he'd perhaps like. And perhaps he'd like to put his knowledge about you to good use.

Unconsciously, he even holds himself in pride when it comes to how much he knows about you. You avoid wearing that sweater because it's too stuffy, or maybe he notices the stitches of your garments come loose from how often you fidget. Maybe he sees the way you always order the same food when you have a crappy day. Maybe he notices who's been responsible for all your crappy days.

Maybe, just maybe, he notices the quirk in your step when they stop.

And he understands – slowly but surely, he's becoming a part of you in more ways than one.

[deus-sema]

Natsu's emotional intelligence is greatly underestimated. He is anything but blissfully unaware; he is highly perceptive of how others feel and reacts accordingly. For instance, when Jellal was about to be arrested by the Magic Council towards the end of the Oracion Seis arc, he could sense Erza's turmoil and understood what the former meant to her which led to him taking a stand for Jellal. He reassured Juvia that they would get Gray back during the Avatar arc. He was mature enough to put up an innocent charade of incompetence to keep Asuka happy. He has lent emotional support to Lucy on several occasions and showcased utmost sensitivity.

That brings us to two questions: Why does he play the clueless fool and what will make him acknowledge his feelings and, eventually, act on them?

First, it is my interpretation that what terrifies Natsu more than anything else in the world is loss. He cannot so much as entertain the possibility of losing the people he loves. Let alone accept its inevitability. It is why he adheres to a maladaptive coping style where he simply avoids difficult situations and feelings. Instead of facing the reality of Igneel's death and allowing himself to be supported by his friends, he chose to isolate himself from everyone with only Happy for company. Natsu would sooner bear the burden of the entire world than share his own with his friends.

When the situation is under control and whatever crisis they're facing is averted, he wilfully regresses to his childish ways, content with the knowledge that he wouldn't have to face his feelings or address them. That everything will be how it always has been.

For Natsu to experience growth, he will have to experience a loss from which he can neither escape nor avoid. It shouldn't be a permanent one but it needs to last a while and end with the realisation that life is too short to not be savoured in its entirety. That he needs to break out of the shell he so stubbornly clings to and let people in.

Then there are his feelings for Lucy, who, I daresay, is in an entirely different category from the rest of his friends.

His words to Lucy at the end of the manga, that they will always be together, are not so much a statement, as they are a promise, both to her and to himself for when he believed that he had lost her forever, the outcome was frightening. Much like his brother Zeref, whose whole tragedy was triggered by his inability to come to terms with losing the one he loved most, Natsu's intense devotion for Lucy can bring out the worst in him.

For NaLu to unite for good, I need them to be apart for a while. When faced with the reality that Lucy might not be by his side forever or vice versa, Natsu will have no choice but to face his demons and get his act together. It will not be an easy process but a little angst has never harmed anyone.

[ficmenrhot]

Finnick’s trauma and comforting him:( /angst/

TW: mentions of forced prostitution and description of some gore and violence, a little bit of self hatred, talking about traumatic events

A/N: to all those survivors and victims of traumatic events, I’m proud of you…and this is a reminder that your loved ones are always willing to listen. Also, this is quite long so buckle up!

————————————

I think it is pretty much common knowledge that Finnick Odair has some deep trauma from his time in the games and past. Although most victors of the Hunger Games suffered the same fate, Finnick was caught in Snow’s grasp too young..too vulnerable. He was forced to participate in the 65th Hunger Games at only 14-to kill others for survival- and when he won, thinking that all the suffering would be over then, he was threatened to become a prostitute at 16, otherwise his loved ones would be slaughtered- in which they did.

Finnick tries so hard to put on a facade in front of the Capitol- when he attends shows and interviews- and he does an amazing job at that. He tries so, so hard to remain strong for you too…to try and convince you that he really is alright by lying that his past no longer haunts him. He wants to assure you that he is stable because he is afraid of becoming a burden to you, afraid to be pushed away or feared by you because of his ‘problems’. The last thing he needs is to have the last person he loves vanish from his life.

However, at times, the stresses and memories just come flooding back to him and he finds himself breaking down.

Sometimes at night, you’ll be awoken by the soft sobs of Finnick crying, and seeing him in that state just absolutely destroys you…as if a thousand knives to your heart.

His back is facing you to avoid having you see his teary face, quietly sniffing into a pillow in his arm. He looks so vulnerable…almost like he’s fourteen all over again, and your heart throbs at the sight of your love- usually so big and strong- breaking down into pieces.

“…F-Finnick, my love?” You whisper ever so softly, sitting up against the headboard as you place a your much smaller hand on his shoulder.

Finnick turns at you, his eyes red and tears welling up at his waterline, long lashes wet and cheeks a little flushed from crying. He blinks, wiping away his tears, voice raspy as he says apologetically,

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

This man. He’s breaking down and he is so selfless that he apologises to you for experiencing valid emotions?!

“Oh Finnick, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault..you know it never is. Was it the nightmares again?” you ask gently with sympathetic eyes.

You have no idea what Finnick had to go through in the Hunger Games or any idea of what it is like to have your body sold but whatever it feels like, you know it must be terrible…so painful and terrible for somebody as strong as Finnick to be shattered. And you wouldn’t even have to think for a second to do anything at all -to kill or to sacrifice your own safety- just to share half of Finnick’s pain….to lift the weighs off his shoulders.

“My love, would you like me to hold you?” It is the least you can offer.

Finnick sniffs quietly and nod, moving closer to you to lay on your chest. Your fingers delve into his golden curls, playing with his hair as it is one of your favourite ways to calm him down. The two of you find peace in the silence before you ask softly:

“Would you like to share what happened, Finnick? Or we can talk about it when you feel better and just cuddle back to sleep…whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

Finnick is quiet for a few moments before he blinks and rubs at his wet lashes, “..it was…it was another nightmare. I had to kill the last tribute…a young girl from district 11. She was only a few years older than me…forced into the Games too…and I had to k-kill her to win…” His voice cracks as a tear rolls down his cheeks, and you wipe it away with your thumb, nodding as you listen attentively.

“It was terrible…the look on her face when I stabbed her with my trident…I can still remember her shrill screams, the look of betrayal on her face…the way her body thudded to the ground with blood soaking up her wetsuit.” Finnick begins to sob once more.

“Shhh..shhh” you coo, stroking Finnick’s cheeks as you attempt to comfort him.

Finnick shakes his head, breath hitched and uneven as he sobs in your hands, and the heartache of seeing him like this nearly eats you alive.

“I…I’m disgusting…I feel impure….and with what Snow did to me…”

“…the things he made me do…I feel disgusting....”

Prostitution is something you know of Finnick’s past, but it is a topic he has never really opened up on until this moment. You never forced him or questioned him about it because you know it is an event of great trauma to him.

You can only stroke Finnick’s hair to sooth him and hold him tightly in support as he continues, feeling both sympathy and proudness that he is able to open up about this topic.

“No matter how much I try to wash myself, to scrub my skin and submerge myself in soap, I can still smell the sickening scent of Capitol perfumes. Sometimes…I feel sorry that I can’t be a better partner for you sweetheart……and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave me or regret me or feel shameful of me.”

You cup Finnick’s face for him to look at you and there are a thousand emotions visible in your eyes as you speak.

“Are you kidding, Finnick? Look me in the eye when I tell you that I will never regret loving you or feel ashamed of you. I’m so proud to have you as my partner, as my lover, so proud of how strong you are…how strong you remain after the terrible things you had to go through.”

“In fact, my love, I look up to you. You’re my role model Finnick, and if I were in your shoes, I would not be able to handle things half as well as you do. You are kind, amazing, beautiful and definitely not disgusting. Trust me when I say that that is the last thing you’ll ever be. Besides, it wasn’t your choice to kill that tribute, anyone would’ve done the same.”

And with that, his sea green eyes softens, and that smile you’re familiar with finally appears on his face. Dimples when he smiles. You press a soft kiss on his forehead and stroke his hair as the two of you hold each other sleepily, slowly dozing off to a deep slumber. The last words you mutter being:

“I love you, my love.”

“I love you more, honey. And thank you….really.”

——————————————————————

A/N: AHHHH! tell me why I almost cried writing this?! This is my first angst and I think the lost piece I’ve written by far (on this new account). Please like or reblog if you enjoyed this, and follows are most definitely appreciated ;)

[edlucavalden]

Mithrun and non-visible disability

Yk, I've never seen people talk about this, but Mithrun is a very accurate depiction of having a non visible illness

I'd like to interpret mithrun's bastard origin to be an allegory for an invisible disability (I'd argue its neurodivergance, but it could be anything); An aspect of yourself that you are born with (in this case; born from) that is seen as inferior but it is not obvious.

He's even lucky—since that part of him is that of benefit. His infidelity gave him silver eyes and sharp ears after all (if you can catch the metaphor). from the outside, He's just a normal person, a person worth respecting because he's fits the standard.

However, he knows he does not fit the standard. it's just a lie. He hates himself—so, so much bc of that. It causes him to over-compensate through complete perfectionism and a high sense of self pride. He has to keep a big image in order to protect himself. it's the only thing that can get him loved.

However, that superficial ego gives him terrible imposter syndrome. He knows he doesn't deserve it, but he wants to. like everyone, he craves love and safety. So, he looks down at everyone, hyperfocused at their flaws (he can't be inferior if everyone is worse, right?) whatever it takes to prove himself that he deserves love.

He knows he's weak, but he has to show to everyone that he's strong because any slight sight of weakness would be detrimental since he knows that his humanity is conditional.

He knows that if he shows the truth and how he doesn't actually fit the status quo, he will be ostracized and rejected.

He knows—because his brother is proof of that.

Obrin's disability is obviously visible; Shown through his physical characteristics (his frailness and the lack of family traits). However, his discrimination may be due to this visible disability. he isn't nessesarily ostracized for those traits. His features aren't the (main) reason why he's perceived as inferior in the social hierarchy. it's instead because he's rumored to be a bastard child. This is why he hates his brother so much.

Obrins physical characteristics are just "symptoms" that perpetuate their prejudice towards infidelity (if were going by the disability allegory, think; this person is too sensitive, it must be bc of the autism...). By doing so, his brother indirectly taught him to hide that part of himself.

He hates Obrin because he is the physical manifestation of what will happen to him if his infidelity (disability) is revealed. He is the same plane as his brother after all, The only difference is that he's fortunate enough to be able to hide it.

It's very interesting how his hatred to Obrin isn't because he's genuinely bigoted and ignorant towards him, but because of his own personal internalized ablelism just projected. (It's ironic how contrary it is; he hates his brother because he sees him as equal) very much paralleling visible and nonvisible disability in intimate familial relationships.

The fact mithrun is the bastard child, not him. Imagine the burdening guilt and shame that comes with the knowledge that he could (or should) be one in his place.

He's constantly paranoid of thoughts that he's not good enough. That's why he was so upset when he was sent to the canaries or when he saw Obrin and Sultha together.

Because those are signs that Obrin is better than him and he could not forgive that (how can someone like him, completely ostracized from society, and be so content...?). And that sign proves his paranoia of not being good enough are correct.

mithrun's insecurities, fears, and behavior very much parallel that of being a high masking disabled person.

Hes is a flawed disabled character, but one you can also sympathize with.

He isn't a perfect victim. He delves on how a disabiled person who's so intrenched in a heavily ableist and bigoted society can be a victim to its bigotry and be taken advantage of (The demon. I didn't touch on that topic, as much as i would love an essay about how the demon preyed on mithruns vulnerability regarding his own disability but unfortunately, that might be too triggering for me lawl!) while also actively participating in it and perpetuate said beliefs

And that means so much to me

[gale-gentlepenguin]

You know, really thinking about it. Gabriel did the most evil thing with his wish.

He laid a curse on Marinette. A burden not meant for her to carry. Knowledge that will keep her at a distance from the boy she loves. She knows he’s a sentimonster, that his father is Hawkmoth, that his mother died because she uses a broken miraculous. And ALL of that she has to hold. A burden that would break Adrien. A power dynamic that can’t be destroyed without harm to Adrien. A curse so cruel it could forever taint the love.

Gabriel casted his sins onto Marinette. And now whatever happens will be on her watch. Gabriel may have “Sacrificed his life” but the real sacrifice was Marinette. Gabriel gets to be with his wife, Gabriel gets to be treated like a hero. Gabriel won in the most twisted way. All it did was cost the soul of a heroine that loved Adrien too much to ever hurt him.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

I see plenty about Yuu being stressed and depressed about wanting to go home, but what about wanting to stay?

If I’m being honest our world is pretty shitty. Pollution, issues with basic human rights, and the economy. So even with the obvious stress of being in Twisted Wonderland with no magic and not having a ton of knowledge, some would def view it as a better option. I personally would.

Of course, there are the issues of getting proper documentation and whatnot. I doubt Crowly would be much help but hey he might actually if it means you stop nagging him about going home. Plus you already do so much, it would prob be in his best interest to keep you on as actual staff, plus he prob has some influence given his position.

 Even then, if not him help you? You got your friends that care about you, your boys.

I feel like as soon as they find out their already planning, regardless of whatever anxieties you communicate about not wanting to burden or “use” them. Ha as if you ever could, they're gonna help whether you want it or not.

You have no choice…you WILL be helped.

[thewulf]

Brighter than the Stars || Legolas

Summary: Request - Second, could you write a reader x Legolas where after the two grew close on their journey w/ the fellowship, Legolas (and eventually the rest) noticed how the reader would look at Legolas whenever the two were together/talked... Read Rest Here

A/N: I love sweet boy Legolas. Really like how this one turned out. Let me know how you like it :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.4k +

TW: Insecurity, Slight angst, Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

The journey of the Fellowship was one fraught with danger and uncertainty yet amidst it all, a tender bond began to blossom between you and Legolas. Gandalf had brought you along as the healer, but it was Legolas who captured your attention with his ethereal grace and unwavering kindness towards you. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you felt a pull towards Legolas that you couldn't quite explain. Perhaps it was the way his eyes sparkled like sunlight filtering through the trees, or the gentle softness of his voice as he spoke of the wonders of middle earth. Whatever it was, you found yourself drawn to him more and more every day.

At first, Legolas treated you with the same courtesy he extended to all members of the Fellowship. Yet, as the days passed, and your interactions became more frequent he couldn't help but feel a stirring in his heart whenever you were near. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a newfound depth to his feelings that he hadn't realized before. As the days turned into weeks the subtle shift in dynamics within the Fellowship did not go unnoticed by the other members. Aragorn with his keen perception honed by years of ranging across Middle earth was among the first to pick up on the blossoming affection between you and Legolas. He observed the lingering gazes, the gentle touches, and the shared smiles that passed between you. Though he said nothing, a knowing look passed between him and Boromir whenever your eyes met.

Gimli, ever the gruff but good-hearted dwarf couldn't resist teasing Legolas about his newfound fondness for the human healer. "I see you've taken quite a liking to our healer, Master Elf," he remarked one evening with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Legolas merely responded with a raised eyebrow and a secretive smile, neither confirming nor denying Gimli's suspicions.

Even Boromir, burdened with the weight of his own quest and the responsibility of protecting the hobbits couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Legolas' demeanor whenever you were near. He observed the way Legolas would seek out your company during their brief respites. For you there was a softness in his eyes that betrayed his usual stoic gaze.

Yet, it was the hobbits who truly brought the matter to light as their curious natures were unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of mischief. Merry and Pippin in particular took it upon themselves to play matchmakers. Much to the amusement of the rest of the Fellowship sans you and Legolas.

"I say, Pippin, have you noticed the way Y/N looks at Legolas?" Merry whispered conspiratorially one evening as they huddled around the campfire. The two of you were lost in conversation. So much so that Legolas wasn’t even paying attention to the comments around him. His focus was solely on you.

Pippin, his eyes wide with excitement, nodded eagerly. "Aye, Merry, it's as plain as the nose on Gandalf's face! She's smitten, that's for certain." Earning the laughter of the hobbits at that remark and a smack on the back of the head from Gandalf.

Armed with their newfound knowledge, the hobbits embarked on their mission to uncover the truth. And though Legolas and you remained oblivious to their antics, the spark of romance that had ignited between you could not be denied. Sam and Frodo, ever the loyal and steadfast companions watched the unfolding dynamic between you and Legolas with a mixture of amusement and quiet support. While they appreciated Merry and Pippin's enthusiasm they also understood the delicate nature of romance amidst the perils of their quest.

At first, Sam and Frodo exchanged knowing glances whenever Merry, and Pippin attempted to prod you or Legolas about your feelings. However, as the hobbits' antics grew more persistent they decided it was time to intervene albeit in their own subtle way. "Perhaps it's best to let them be, Merry," Sam murmured one evening as they watched you and Legolas share a quiet moment by the fire. "Love has a way of finding its own path after all."

Frodo nodded in agreement. His gaze thoughtful. "Indeed, Sam. And if Legolas and Y/N are meant to be, then nothing we say or do will change that." While Merry and Pippin continued their matchmaking schemes with gusto, Sam and Frodo opted for a more hands-off approach. They were content to watch the budding romance between you and Legolas unfold organically.

Gandalf the wise and enigmatic wizard, had a keen intuition that often surpassed the understanding of those around him. When he insisted on bringing you along as the healer for the Fellowship he did so with a subtle knowledge of the bonds that would form among its members. This included the burgeoning connection between you and Legolas. Though Gandalf didn't overtly push you towards Legolas, his gentle guidance and sage advice often served as a catalyst for self-discovery. He recognized the spark of potential between you and Legolas, understanding that love knew no boundaries, not even those between different races.

In quiet moments by the campfire or during their long marches across middle earth, Gandalf would offer words of wisdom and encouragement as he nudged you towards introspection and self-awareness. Through his guidance you began to unravel the complexities of your own heart slowly coming to terms with the depth of your feelings for Legolas. It was during one such conversation with Gandalf that the truth finally dawned on you. As you confided in him about your confusion and uncertainty regarding your growing affection for Legolas, Gandalf listened patiently, his eyes twinkling with a knowing light.

"My dear Y/N, love is a powerful force that transcends race and circumstance," Gandalf said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Do not shy away from the feelings that stir within you. Embrace them, for they may lead you towards a happiness beyond your wildest dreams."

And as you gazed into Gandalf's wise eyes, a sense of clarity washed over you as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. In that moment you understood that your feelings for Legolas were not a mere fleeting fancy, but a deep and profound connection that had blossomed amidst the trials and tribulations of your journey.

As the days stretched into weeks and the Fellowship journeyed through the untamed landscapes of middle earth Legolas found himself increasingly drawn to your side. There was an undeniable magnetism between the two of you. A pull that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He savored the moments when you tended to his wounds, relishing in the gentle touch of your hands against his skin. There was a soothing quality to your presence. A warmth that seeped into his bones and chased away the shadows of doubt that lingered in his heart.

Yet, it wasn't just your healing abilities that captivated Legolas. It was the way you listened intently as he spoke of his homeland, your eyes alight with genuine interest and curiosity. In your company he felt understood in a way he never had before as if you saw beyond the facade of the stoic elf prince into the depths of his soul. And as he watched you laugh and joke with the hobbits a soft smile tugged at the corners of Legolas' lips. There was a lightness to your presence that filled him with a sense of joy he hadn't felt in ages. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite put into words.

It was during one such quiet moment by the campfire that Legolas finally admitted the truth to himself. As he watched you interact with the hobbits a surge of warmth washed over him igniting a fire within his chest that he couldn't ignore any longer. It was then that he realized he wanted more than just friendship with you; he wanted to explore the depths of this newfound connection, to see where it could lead.

As the night settled around the campfire, casting its warm glow upon the Fellowship. Merry and Pippin seized the opportunity to indulge in their mischievous tendencies. With conspiratorial grins and playful nudges, they pulled you aside, their eyes dancing with excitement. "Alright, Y/N, spill the beans," Merry said with a lopsided grin, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. "What's going on between you and Legolas?"

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by their sudden interrogation. "I... I don't know what you mean," you stammered, your cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment.

Pippin chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Oh, come on now, Y/N. You can't fool us! We've seen the way you look at him."

Your heart skipped a beat as you fumbled for a response, desperately trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't reveal the true depth of your feelings. "I... uh...I just...admire his...hair," you finally blurted out, the words sounding feeble even to your own ears.

Merry and Pippin exchanged incredulous looks before bursting into laughter, their mirth echoing through the quiet night air. "His hair?" Merry exclaimed between bouts of laughter. "Is that all?"

Pippin nodded, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, Y/N, you really are something else."

You couldn't help but join in their laughter, though a part of you cringed at the absurdity of your own words. How could you have been so foolish as to think that admiring Legolas' hair would suffice as an explanation for the complex emotions swirling within you?

And as you glanced across the campfire to see Legolas with his back turned to you chatting with Boromir did a sheepish smile playing on your lips. You couldn't help but wonder what he must think of your clumsy attempt at deflecting the truth. Little did you know, he had overheard the entire exchange. His own heart swelling with affection at the realization that your feelings for him ran deeper than mere admiration for his hair.

As the laughter subsided and the hobbits' playful teasing continued, you found yourself squirming under their scrutiny. Merry and Pippin exchanged knowing glances, their mischievous smiles widening as they prodded you further.

"Come now, Y/N, there's no need to be shy," Merry teased, nudging you with his elbow. "We all know there's more to it than just his hair."

You sighed, feeling the weight of their relentless questioning pressing down on you. "Alright, fine," you admitted reluctantly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Maybe I... maybe I do like him."

Merry and Pippin exchanged triumphant looks, their grins widening into smirks as they teased you mercilessly. "Ha! We knew it!" Pippin exclaimed with a grin. "You fancy the elf prince!"

You flushed even deeper feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading through your entire being. "It's not like that," you protested weakly though the truth of your feelings hung heavy in the air.

But beneath their teasing, there was a genuine warmth in Merry and Pippin's eyes, a silent reassurance that they meant no harm. And yet despite their best intentions a seed of doubt had already taken root in your mind. Why would an Elven prince like Legolas with his ethereal beauty and noble lineage ever be interested in a lowly healer from Eriador? It seemed like a fantasy too far-fetched to even entertain. It was a cruel trick of fate that mocked your deepest desires.

The hobbits noticed the shift in your demeanor, their playful teasing softened into genuine concern. Merry and Pippin exchanged worried glances, their smiles fading as they realized the depth of your insecurity. "Hey, Y/N, what's wrong?" Pippen asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Did we go too far with the teasing?"

You shook your head, trying to force a smile despite the heavy weight of doubt pressing down on your chest. "No, it's not that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just...I can't get my hopes up, you know? Legolas is an Elven prince, and I'm just a lowly human from Eriador. He could never feel the same way about me."

Merry’s eyes widened with understanding. His expression filled with empathy. "Oh, Y/N, don't say that," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "You're worth more than you know. Legolas sees something special in you, I'm sure of it."

But your heart felt heavy with doubt, the weight of centuries of tradition and prejudice bearing down on your shoulders. How could you ever hope to compete with the storied history and timeless beauty of the elves? It seemed like a fool's errand. A futile pursuit that would only end in heartbreak. As you poured out your heart to Merry and Pippin, unaware of Legolas' keen ears tuned in to your conversation the Elven prince's own heart ached with a bittersweet mixture of longing and sadness.

Though he had overheard snippets of your conversation with the hobbits, it wasn't until now that the full extent of your insecurities became painfully clear to him. As he turned away from his conversation with Aragorn, his attention fully captured by your words. A pang of empathy pierced through his chest. To hear you speak of yourself with such self-doubt and resignation broke Legolas' heart in ways he couldn't fully articulate. How could you not see the radiant light that shone within you? the kindness and strength that had endeared you to him from the very beginning?

Legolas felt a fierce determination ignite within him. A resolve to show you just how extraordinary you truly were. He longed to sweep away the shadows of doubt that clouded your mind and to replace them with the unshakeable belief in your own worth that you so rightfully deserved.

With a silent vow in his heart, Legolas turned his gaze back to the campfire. His mind ablaze with thoughts of how he could show you the depth of his feelings and the true beauty that lay within your heart As Legolas listened intently to your conversation with Merry and Pippin his heart swelled with a mixture of sadness and determination. He couldn't help but feel the weight of their shared concern for you.

Across the campfire, Merry and Pippin exchanged knowing glances. Their expressions filled with a silent plea for Legolas to intervene. With a subtle nod and a meaningful look they motioned for him to join them, hoping that he could offer you the reassurance and support you so desperately needed.

Legolas met their gazes with silent understanding. His resolve strengthening with each passing moment. With a graceful movement he rose from his seat by the fire. His footsteps were light as he made his way towards you. He was careful not to draw attention to himself.

As he approached Merry and Pippin stepped aside, their eyes flickering with a silent message that Legolas understood all too well. With a grateful nod he took their place by your side, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil. Though you remained unaware of his silent exchange with Merry and Pippin, Legolas couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards the hobbits for their unwavering loyalty and support. And as he settled in beside you his gaze met yours with a tenderness that took your breath away

“Y/N,” he began, his tone gentle as a whisper of the wind through the trees, "I couldn't help but notice that something seems to be troubling you.."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the realization that Legolas had sensed your inner turmoil and you couldn't help but feel a pang of self-consciousness. "I'm sorry, Legolas," you murmured, your gaze flickering away from his intense gaze. "I don’t mean to burden you with my concerns."

But Legolas reached out to gently tilt your chin upwards, his touch sending a flutter of warmth through your chest. "No need to apologize, mellon-nîn," he said, his voice filled with a tenderness that melted away your fears. "I want you to know that you are worth more than you could ever imagine."

Your heart swelled with gratitude at his words, a flicker of hope igniting within you as you met his gaze. "That is kind of you to say." you whispered, unable to contain the doubt that still lingered in your heart. "But I'm just a human healer, and you're... you're an Elven prince. In another life we would never have even crossed paths.”

Legolas smiled with a softness in his eyes that spoke of a depth of feeling you had never known before. "We do not choose who we were born to," he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with a quiet intensity, "you are kind, and brave, and full of a light that shines brighter than any star in the sky."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sincerity in his gaze. As you looked into his eyes, you felt a flicker of something stirring deep within you. A longing that you couldn't quite name.

"But," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "if it's my hair that has caught your fancy, I must say, I've spent centuries perfecting it."

As Legolas spoke, his words carrying a playful yet genuine warmth, your mouth dropped open in realization. A blush flooded your cheeks as you processed his teasing remark, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment washing over you. How could you have forgotten that Legolas possessed such keen perception, his senses far surpassing your own?

Feeling a sudden urge to hide away from him, to shield yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you instinctively turned away. Your gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the campfire. It was easy to forget that Legolas was not just a companion but an elf prince with abilities and perceptions far beyond your own. Even as you sought to hide your embarrassment you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at Legolas' playful teasing. There was a familiarity in his words, a shared moment of levity amidst the weight of your doubts and insecurities.

As Legolas noticed your sudden shyness a playful yet tender smile graced his lips. "Don't hide away from me," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that enveloped you like a comforting embrace. "If it makes you feel any better, I quite like your hair too. In fact, I like so much about you..."

You turned back to him, your heart racing with a mixture of apprehension and hope. "You do?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of surprise in your voice.

Legolas nodded. His gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "Yes," he said, his voice steady and sincere. "I've admired you from the moment we met. Your kindness, your bravery, your unwavering spirit... They've all captured my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession, a rush of emotion swelling within you. "Legolas..." you whispered, your voice filled with awe and disbelief.

He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I know that our paths may be uncertain, and the road ahead may be fraught with danger," he continued, his gaze soft yet determined. "But I want you to know that my feelings for you are anything but uncertain. I care for you deeply, Y/N. I want nothing more than to explore this connection between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his heartfelt words. A sense of overwhelming joy flooding your heart. "I... I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

As Legolas leaned in closer, a tender smile gracing his lips he pressed a soft kiss against your cheek. It was a gentle lingering touch that spoke volumes. A silent promise of the love and affection that lay between you. Feeling the warmth of his lips against your skin sent a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was a sensation that felt like the soft caress of a summer breeze. You closed your eyes savoring the moment. You let yourself feel the depth of his emotions conveyed in that simple gesture.

And as Legolas wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close in a comforting embrace, you nestled into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. In that embrace, surrounded by the soft glow of the campfire and the tranquil beauty of the night, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you letting you know that everything would be quite alright.

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[stxrborne]

PRECISION

|| Feitan x neutral! Reader ||

|| dt to @after-witch @ddarker-dreams @depravitycentral for inspiring me to finally get off my ass and write, and also for their amazing works ofc! check them out! ||

It’s ironic, Feitan thinks, to sew up the wounds of his victims. But they can’t die just yet.

His thin, long fingers push the needle through the victims skin of their inner thigh, and he gives out a light scoff in mockery when they whimper. Little rich boy can’t handle a little pain? He hates these rich types that think they can pull one over on the troupe. They were fun to interrogate, they always worked up his temper where taking it out on them was something he looked forward to. Due punishment, not only for their bratty, pretentious attitude, but their lucky pull in birth circumstances. Feitan acts as their comeuppance.

He’ll give it to this victim, however, still holding on to the information despite it all. Usually his male victims would start spilling whatever they knew when Feitan picked up a hammer and pushed their thighs apart. But here his victim was, crying and whimpering, and now a eunuch, and still not speaking.

Feitan finishes his stitches with a clean knot, and sets the needle and thread aside on his medical tool tables. He likes to pride himself in his efficiency and perfection. After all, torture required just as much knowledge of the human body as a surgeon. The image of Feitan as a doctor, in a different life, flashed in his mind and he laughed aloud. Maybe. Maybe if he was born lucky. Maybe if he didn’t have to learn surgery and amputations from the cruelty of his home.

After all, doctors can’t save everyone. And he didn’t see the point in willingly putting that responsibility and burden on yourself. Especially for ungrateful rich brats.

No, it was much easier to take life than to protect it. Much more fulfilling too. Other people aren’t your responsibility.

How funny though, Feitan thought. To now have something to willingly burden yourself with.

His ears pricked up to his victim shuffling in his chains, and he turned to them. The man wasn’t remarkable, only one person really was in Feitan’s eyes. The only thing noticeable now was the man’s family crest Feitan had carved on the skin above his heart.

How can you claim to belong to something, if you can’t even mark yourself with it? When you die, how will people know where you belonged to?

Feitan takes the man’s face in between his hand, and moves his head around to inspect his work. He debated between leaving the cut next to eye, dropping a few drops of an infectious bacteria into it so the eye would eventually eat itself. It’d take about a week, and then another for the infection to spread to the rest of the body.

Feitan couldn’t help but smile at the image. He gripped his victims face with his nails, and told him so.

“It’d be funny to see you swell up with blood and pus. I wonder if you’d get fat like an ugly cyst, but you already don’t look all that different from one.”

He let him go unceremoniously, and watched as his head fell forward. Feitan will grant him the mercy of sleep. After all, a dog will still endure abuse if you feed it often enough.

“Feitan?”

He heard you before you reached the basement door of course. He knew where you were in the house at all times after all.

You knew you weren’t allowed to open the door. If you needed him, just knock or call his name. You think it’s because he’d have to kill you if you saw what he was doing.

He knows that, and thinks you’re silly. He wipes his bloodied hands with a clean cloth as he walks to the door. His eyes meet yours when he opens the door, and his gaze doesn’t leave yours as he closes it. You don’t even know what color the walls of the basement are.

Feitan looks you over, with the same precision he gives to everything. You’ve been picking at your hangnails again and for some reason you didn’t bother bandaging your thumb, where you had ripped and tore at the skin enough for it to bleed. Another thing is that you’re wearing nothing but a towel, which means one thing.

“I want to take a bath,” you say, your clasped hands nervously squeezing themselves. It was another thing you weren’t allowed to do on your own. You didn’t understand why, and you didn’t understand why he did the things he did. He’d set the water the way you like it, even though you don’t remember telling him. He scents it with fragrances and oils that you can tell are expensive, in your favorite scents too. He helps you in and then holds out your towel so he doesn’t see your naked body, and he swiftly turns and closes the curtain. He does the same when you’re ready to come out.

He has a chair he sits on, quietly and unmoving as he watches your silhouette. Maybe it’s a kink or fetish of some kind, you think. It had taken you a while to get use to. But something tells you it wasn’t that exactly. One time you had slipped when washing your body, and before you could fully gasp out in surprise, you were in his arms with his face to the side.

He didn’t act the way you expected a kidnapper would. But it still didn’t explain why you were here at all.

Feitan nods at you, and you lead the way. You’ve learned he preferred to be your second shadow than to be your leading light.

Your large bathroom was attached to your equally large room. Funny how you’ve started to refer to them as ‘yours’. It’s difficult not to, when he is somehow able to let you decorate it the way you want. Feitan does that often, you’ve found. No matter how expensive your request, and you have tested that, he will get it for you. You’re scared to ask how.

He begins his routine when you both step into the bathroom. He gets the water to the temperature you like and let the bath tub fill. The sound of the tub jets fill the air, and you watch as he drips expensive oils into the water. His movements are methodical, and somehow he’s figured out the ratio of water to oil that’s right for your skin.

Feitan doesn’t dare mix the water with his hand.

Your nose is soon filled with the scent, and you feel your tense shoulders slowly let go and relax. He’s watching you, you know that. He stops the faucet when the tub fills up, and you walk up the small steps and stand in front of him.

A part of you is always tempted to touch. His pale skin is smooth and such a contrast to his dark hair. This close, you can see just a hint of green in his black eyes, the way they don’t seem to blink. You wonder if he is even human.

You nod softly and he moves behind you. You can’t even feel his presence, hear his breath, and you slightly jump when he reaches to gently clasp the small fold that holds your towel up.

Feitan waits until you calm again to continue. He never touches you directly, not even a stray touch from any finger. He takes off your towel and spreads it as a barrier between you and him.

But then you do something that has his heart beating and stopping erratically. His breath catches in his throat, your gaze turning to him and he feels trapped beneath it. How do you not know how much power you have over him?

His eyes instantly move to the way you nervously bite at your lip. Somehow he can know everything about you, how you think, how you word those thoughts, and yet now, he can’t believe what he thinks you’re going to say.

“…help me?” You say slowly, so quietly that a normal person wouldn’t have heard you.

But you know he did. And you don’t drop your eyes from him.

Feitan, in return, lets the towel drop.

[fumifooms]

Wait one darn diggity second what’s this about unmarried half-foot women being embarrassing for the family, what’s this about being unmarried as a half-foot being "different [worse than] for other races". Maybe Flertom and Puckpatti’s intensity about finding a husband is the norm, maybe Meijack, despite Chilchuck approving of her disinterest in romance, is the one who’s considered weird by social standards.

Maybe they’re less well-adjusted than I thought. Don’t misunderstand me I’m aroace, but if there’s a lot of societal pressure and it’s considered a failure if you’re not married, it is notable when all 3 of your kids haven’t married past the time that’s expected. For reference adulthood for a half-foot is reached at 14, Chil got married at 13, Puckpatti is 14 while Flertom and Meijack are 16. The other half-foot character we have is Mickbell who is also unmarried, unsurprising considering his situation. I don’t think them not having married is about their family being poorer, if anything I’d think Chil’s family is on the comfier end of half-foot families with the high wages he gets paid with and the nice living conditions we’ve seen (although we don’t know when he started being paid well). We know about Flertom having high standards, but she and Puckpatti are actively looking to date, so there’s something going on here whatever it is.

It is nice that it doesn’t seem like Chilchuck cares at all, he even seems to generally dislike the idea of his daughters dating. I imagine that their mother must have also not pressured them into marrying at all, maybe even encouraged them not to marry if they didn’t have someone, which is sweet. And understandable, considering she might not want her daughters to rush into it and live with…….. Being stuck in an unhappy marriage. And here comes in what I meant when I said well-adjusted, daddy issues. We aren’t shown a lot of Chil’s married life, but I would bet my life on there having been tensions and warning signs. Especially since, since the daughters and Chil hadn’t seen each other since the separation before post-canon, there’s an air of not having been very surprised or panicked about the whole thing: the separation wasn’t unexpected. Having to watch your parents fall out of love and growing up seeing them in a taxing marriage can be hard, and not exactly put you in the mood to try and find romance and marry. Fear of abandonment, fear of intimacy, stunted emotional intelligence, fear of commitment… Oh girlies I am about to extrapolate so much from this

Half-foot society has a lot of coding I don’t have enough specialized knowledge to pin down, but they’re a poor working class people, anglo peasant vibes. They have tightly knit communities, but then the double edge is that if your community has expectations and rules to belong, the pressure will be harsh and it can end up being more isolating if you deviate from it. Marriage historically and in Dunmeshi has a lot of economical aspects, in Laios’ Adventurer’s Bible profile for example dowries are hinted at.

So the pressure to marry might very well originate from the need to bring money in to your family, and to unite families as allies. And from there it grows into an expectation, and thus if they aren’t married it’s "an unmarried woman was deemed unfit by suitors, something with her must be off"/"This woman was unable to provide for her family, she must be a burden on them" which results into the family having a bad reputation. If Flertom says it’s worse for half-foots than other races, the reasons must be either social or economical or both. There’s of course their lifespan being shorter too, so that might play into it, expectations to go about things quickly and to have a fast life cycle and making sure to have kids. As we see with Laios, having kids is a pressure that does exist globally as well. Elves are another interesting example of how familial expectations are like in Dunmeshi with heirdom and whatnot, but free me I just wanted to bring up the possibility of Childaughters being societal misfits and having relational issues.

I will also mention that in a similar way, Chilchuck’s wife leaving him may have damaged the daughters’ chances, in a "what if they’re like their mother, the type of woman to abandon her husband!" way. Chilchuck also has a reputation especially as an union leader, which can paint him as dependable as much as it can paint him as someone harsh and stingy, which would be an intimidating. It’s possible they’re a bit more well-off from the rest of the half-foot community as mentioned, which could add to the intimidating factor or a bad reputation as an overall uptight family or one that has drama. Again, double edge of community being very tightly knit and important, with family as one of its highest values.

[the-monkeies-girl]

Subway Systems - Five x Reader - Oneshot snippet.

No big deal whatever its just me writing stuff enjoy a snippet and if you like it idk maybe i post the whole thing lol

They were alive--- Just like you, the plants you tended to, part of a daily ritual you fell into with the Hargreeves. They were alive, breathing and… Half dead, holding on what seemed like a thread just like it felt you were doing for the past two-thousand five-hundred and fifty five days. Seven years, if your math was correct. Seven years since the soles of your feet threaded off the metallic base of the subway car, seven years since you last had seen the outside world you were so familiar with, teetering between worlds of destruction that offered no solace for either traveler once stepped off the car you were on that day.

There were some sunny days that beat against your skin, burning engraves of rays into you that reminded you of the slowness of the Summertime, the casted shift of a breeze against the trees and the subsequent rustling of the leaves. If you closed your eyes, you could see the suns shape against your eyelids, reminiscent of laying in a field of flowers as a child, face up towards the sky. If you were quiet enough now to use your imagination passed survival, you could hear it in the recesses of your mind... Crickets... Chirping out a solemn song as your fingertips brushed against grass. Bushes being shuffled through by rabbits on the hunt for succulent berries and the buzzing of insects too close to your ear, but you were too tired to move away from them so you let them be.

You wondered at times... If Five could hear it too... Or did his sound like the hustle and bustle of a city? The constant noise that is ultimately drowned up by sheer will power? The bickering of civilians in the street, the passing of a car too close to the curb and the honk of a car, angry at someone darting across the street nowhere near the cross-walk? You chose to never ask. It always sought as a bitter call towards the past. Those flickering waves of the way the world had been have not dulled out due to time like a faded newspaper and you had to recall that you were stuck in a loop, together apart, together falling inwards like a supernova with each day that was lived. Never admitting verbally to the graces of reality that escaped on the outside, but mentally accepting the way that things were playing out on the inside.

There were some gray days of rain that pounded against your skin, dull and saddened with each rain drop that casted shivers down your spine, noticed and eyes rolled at the human reaction as if he wouldn't react the same way to the elements. Five was fast to snidely comment that you needed to be more astute on your journey. 'Find yourself a goddamn jacket' was mumbled seven years ago as his envy colored irises sneered at the way that water hit against the bare skin of your arms and down to trickle off your fingertips. Like you were something special and magnetic it was being pulled to, he hated the sight and scoffed under his breath.

Those comments and jeers were aplenty the first two years together but you were quick on your feet and learned to never take offense to them. They were... Oddly reassuring now in the twisted way that Five only muttered them to give advice out of care and want to keep you alive. Least, in the last five years that since trailed by and gave way for the comments to begin their decent in bitingness and replaced with fond irritation, you convinced yourself that was the case.

And in return without giving it much thought, you gave him solace in silently bared knowledge that he wasn't traversing this alone, that he was not carrying all of this on his thinned shoulders; the overpowering burden of death that seemed to follow in his shadow. Another prolonged period of time without his family was at least bearable this round due to actual companionship even if it held notes of hostility at times from your dueling personalities that meshed only in certain frequencies.

[littlesparklight]

Thinking of slaves in Greek mythology...

To show what I mean, here's some quotes from (either certainly assigned or uncertainly so) Euripides' fragmentary Alexandros play:

Fr. 8 "Slaves who are fond of their masters' class arouse much hostility from their own kind."

Fr. 12: "You are indeed wise, Priam, but I am telling you: there is no bigger burden than a slave having a higher opinion of himself than he should, nor a possession more spiteful or worthless for a household."

Fr. 23: "I have put it to the test: so base is the class of slaves; mere bellies and they think of nothing further than that." (These fragments have been taken from Ioanna Karamanou's book on the Alexandros play, and I think she uses a slightly different numbering system to the fragments, just for knowledge's sake.)

Given this sort of array of opinions/judgements, if you are a slave, you basically cannot win no matter what you do (or don't do).

Be too aligned with the master or mistress that owns you, which will give you safety and, for what it matters, hopefully affection and protection by them, but your fellow slaves will undoubtedly be suspicious of you. Look out for yourself as much as you can in your circumstances, and you will be thought of as the basest of base version of slave, and if that "looking out for yourself" becomes thought of (in reality or merely from suspicion) as treachery to your master, well... both your owner and potentially the slaves more "loyal" than you will turn against you.

Looking at the "traitorous" slave women and Melanthius in the Odyssey, and having the last two quoted fragments in mind; it doesn't matter whether they actually are intentionally "maliciously" turning away from Penelope and Odysseus' household, or merely doing what they can to keep themselves safe in an uncertain situation (never mind that if something is demanded of any of them, whatever it is, not a one of them can safely refuse the suitors, who are free men). They are "wrong" either way, though they have little choice otherwise.

If you look beyond that Eurykleia's helpfulness/fondness/loyalty for our protagonists is obviously "good" story-wise, what does that mean for her and the rest of the slaves? Who is she, but her master and mistress' puppet, untrustworthy to the rest of the household who are in the same bondage and class as her? She sells out her fellow slaves. For people who would do just as much to her (Odysseus threatens to kill her if she gives him away when she recognizes him!) as she helps them do to the slave women she has deemed illoyal.

And in some ways I think these can even apply, but perhaps more vaguely, to the slave women and geras prizes in the Iliad. To Briseis and the women who cry over Patroklos' corpse. The narrator explicitly tells us the slave women are actually crying for their own sorrows.

But so, in truth, is Briseis. Briseis, who Patroklos kept from grieving what she has lost, what was brutally taken away from her by the very man she is enslaved to. Only here, when Patroklos is dead, in a situation where it would be more uncouth to stop her than to let her go on, does Briseis dare to voice her grief for husband, father, brothers. But yet she also voices it as that this dead man who refused to let her openly grieve for what he himself had part in to take away from her, was kind.

Because how can a slave dare to do anything else? You can't win but for losing.

[alicesoinions]

Aspects

My views on Homestuck's Aspects. Part of this analysis is the idea that Aspects have relationships to each other, each bringing the other about.

I will use my own custom Aspect symbols throughout, but the analysis itself is based on canon.

Space

Space is the Aspect of beginnings, of new things. Space experiments and improvises. Space cares about what is possible now, and cares more about the discoveries made in a journey than about a specific endpoint. Space is infinite discovery and potential.

Space is represented by art, fashion, atoms, and frogs.

Space is the color of the night sky, empty beyond human perception, endless and unfathomable but not featureless. Inky darkness, dotted by stars. Space has no color at all, which sometimes results in it using Sburb’s default texture.

Space is opposed to the Aspect of Time.

Space is the fundamental force of creation that gives rise to the duality of Life and Doom well as the unknown mysteries of Void.

Void

Void is the Aspect of the unknown. Of hidden, ill-defined things impossible for us to know or give names to. Void is the Aspect of true reality, of things on a spectrum, of quantum and biology.

Void is represented by water, darkness, and pumpkins.

Void is the color of deep waters, hiding what lies within; its color somewhere on a gradient, but impossible for humans to pinpoint or define no matter how long they stare; Void is the shifting hues of the color of the sky.

Void is opposed to the Aspect of Light.

The unexplored unknowns of the Void hide the untapped potential that is Space, leading to new creation.

Life

Life is the Aspect of agency and self-direction. Life is self-directed and idealistic; Life concerns itself primarily with what Life wants to do, not caring for obstacles or drawbacks. Life sees an infinitude of options, and picks the one it desires.

Life is represented by plants, food, coins, and wealth.

Life is opposed to the Aspect of Doom.

The ultimate freedom to do whatever one wants eventually leads to the ennui of Breath. The interplay of Life and Doom leads to defining one's self in Heart or hiding in Mind.

Doom

Doom is the Aspect of fate and constraint. Doom has burdens and limitations; Doom concerns itself with practical issues instead of lofty ideals. Doom sees no escape or negotiation, going with what others demand of you.

Doom is represented by skulls, death, and fire.

Doom is opposed to the Aspect of Life.

The practical matters and the knowledge of our limits leads to the endless toil of Blood. The interplay of Life and Doom leads defining one's self in Heart or hiding in Mind.

Breath

Breath is the Aspect of detachment. Breath goes with the flow, not caring about anything or anyone in particular; Breath does whatever feels right in the moment, not worrying about much.

Breath is represented by wind, leaves, and rivers.

Breath is opposed to the Aspect of Blood.

The freedom of exploration of and detachment of goals leads to the compromise and negotiation of Hope and to exploration of the self in Heart.

Blood

Blood is the Aspect of effort. Blood has lofty expectations, from both itself and others, and runs itself ragged to accomplish all of them. Blood cares intensely about what it does, without rest or thought.

Blood is represented by blood, sweat, stone, and iron.

Blood is opposed to the Aspect of Breath.

The exertion and toil of Blood eventually lead either to hiding in Mind or to the revolution of Rage.

Heart

Heart is the Aspect of self and emotion. Heart is a person's identity and definition, their emotions and their friendships and their biases. Heart goes with its gut. Heart cares about what its heart directs it to.

Heart is represented by music, hats, and horses.

Heart is opposed to the Aspect of Mind.

Heart’s loyalty and instinct lead to the upheaval of Rage and Heart’s caring nature leads to Blood.

Mind

Mind is the Aspect of thought and masking. Mind coldly adapts itself to circumstance, hiding the true self in order to blend in with what's acceptable. Mind is impartial. Mind weighs all the options, and picks the one most suited to the situation.

Mind is represented by masks, blindfolds, and scales.

Mind is opposed to the Aspect of Heart.

Mind’s bottling of emotions leads to the real detachment of Breath; and Mind’s adaptive nature leads to Hope.

Rage

Rage is the Aspect of rebellion. Rage is skeptical of what society presents as true, and fights tooth and nail for what it stands for. Rage riots and fights back; Rage would sooner bring revenge than healing. Rage fights for sudden change.

Rage is represented by fangs, beasts, and waves.

Rage is opposed to the Aspect of Hope.

In fighting against their shackles, one gains the newfound options of Life. Rage’s sudden changes forms half of the past events of Time.

Hope

Hope is the Aspect of diplomacy. Hope believes everyone is good at heart, and that everything could be solved if only everyone talked things out. Hope has blind faith and will sooner comfort a friend than hurt an enemy. Hope solves things slowly and steadily.

Hope is represented by religion, ribbons, and blankets.

Hope is opposed to the Aspect of Rage.

Hope’s compromises and negotiations lead to new shackles in the form of Doom. Hope’s slow changes form half the past events of Time.

Time

Time is the Aspect of the past. Time is concerned with traditions, patterns, and the inevitability of what came before. Time brings the authority of established rules and governance. Time looks to what was to decide what will come about.

Time is associated with gears, crowns, sand, and clocks.

Time is the color of a gear turning to rust, of blood leaving a vein, of a game timer running out. Time powers shine in all colors at once before they settle on one.

Time is opposed to the Aspect of Space.

The knowledge of the established patterns of Time leads to the knowledge and definition of Light.

Light

Light is the Aspect of definition. Light has clear rules, clear definitions, and clear answers. Light creates frameworks of understanding and puts things in black and white, right and wrong, relevant and irrelevant, which can sometimes lead to ignoring the gray areas between. Light is the Aspect of human knowledge of the world, our ideas, stories, and sciences.

Light is represented by the sun, fire, and compasses.

Light is the blazing color of the sun, impossible to look at for long, but shining its light everywhere, a white light that returns as a myriad of colors.

Light is opposed to the Aspect of Void.

The sharp delineations of Light ignore the gray areas outside definition, creating Void.