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dearladynightmare · 9 months

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Good day my friends! Today I want to share with you my very well-considered theory about Hordaks “defect”. This idea really makes sense to me which is why I use it canonically for my comics (especially the next one). So, if you are interested in how I spent my nights, not able to sleep because of this head-canon, GO AHEAD! ;)

While watching the show I noticed some inconsistencies according to what Hordak said about his defect and how Horde Prime (HP) dealt with it. But what exactly do we know about his defect? Well, he told Entrapta that he was a clone of Horde Prime, that he had been his “top general” but he a had a defect in his cloning. So Prime declared him worthless and sent him to die to the front lines.

When I rewatched that episode I was confused. Horde Prime had a top general? Horde Prime himself chose a “worthless” clone to be his top general??? A clone who’s not even worth to have a name?? Later we found out that Prime does not distinguish between his clones. None of them was special in any way. Their only reason for existence was to serve HP. The clones also don't have fixed positions or tasks. You can follow this thesis well following Hordak. One time he stands at Prime's side, one time he is a guard in the corridors, one time he is a sentry on Etheria, ... It doesn’t matter to Prime - They doesn’t matter.

My first explanation was that Hordak just made the “top general” story up. A story he was telling himself to feel less worthless. An attempt to ascribe value to himself and in the eyes of Prime. And to give meaning to what he was doing on Etheria. It seemed simple – to simple. So, I thought what was if Hordak told the truth? And now hold on my friends!

Hordak wasn’t like the other clones. He had something which made him special – his defect. And I am not talking about his physical health problems which we were able to see in the show (I`ll come back to this later). I am talking about Hordaks ability of independent thinking and slight resilience against HPs mind control. Sounds weird but pls hear me out!

After Hordak returned to HP, his story could have ended. Prime wiped his mind and Hordak should have been like all the other clones. He should have been unable to remember who he was and his complete past on Etheria. But his story wasn’t over. From that time Hordak showed us that Primes mind control does not really work on him. And I have proof!

1. Prime is barely able to see Hordaks thoughts

Primes wasn’t able to see his thoughts right after their reunion. He seemed to wonder and came closer to touch Hordaks face. Then it worked. Later Hordak started to question everything, he was thinking about Entrapta, the first ones writing, She-Ra, the rebellion and was able to keep all those thoughts from the all knowing- all seeing Horde Prime, even if he was standing right next to him. Even if Hordak shouldn’t been able to remember any of those things in the first place.

2. Hordak remembers things without even trying

Before Hordak noticed that he had forgotten something he already remembered things without trying. For example when he met Catra on the corridor and called her by her actual name and not little sister like all the others.

3. Only Hordak was able to fight the mindcontrol

In the show we see various characters being controlled by Prime. But no one was able to resist as much as Hordak did (and he sometimes didn’t even try). Catra was the first to fall victim to the control. she could only defend herself when the chip in her neck got damaged, and even after that she was barely able to. Later, many other protagonists became victims, without the capability to defend themselves. In the end, even Micah was under the control and would have killed his own daughter if Glimmer wasn’t stronger than him. The mind control was stronger than his fatherly love and the fact that he was a mighty sorcerer!

Fact is, even if the controlled characters stood in front of the person they loved the most, they weren’t able to fight the control BUT Hordak (who only exists to obey Primes orders) found the lil first ones writing and went all like “ENTRAPTA! MY TINY WIFE!” ... Well kind ofxD

He also refused Primes orders when he met Entrapta back on Etheria again. He recognized her and wouldn't hurt her. He let her run off! And don't forget when Prime wanted him to get disposed of her. Prime ordered him personally to get rid of her, and he refused! BETTER he turned against him.

And tbh I don’t think theres a difference between a clone under mind control or an controlled Etherian. After all, the clones also had their own personalities, as we were able to see from Wrong Hordak.

And if all that is true, it is possible that Hordak really was a top general of Prime. Maybe HP recognized that Hordak is “smarter” than the others. Maybe he has used Hordaks feature at the beginning and gave him the post as top general. Maybe in form of a consultant? But we know Prime and we know that he wanted to control everything. And maybe he started to question whether he really wanted to grant Hordak this worth. He created a very own “security gap” and so he got rid of Hordak. Of course he didn't tell Hordak about the real reason why he wanted to get rid of him. He just told him that he was a defect! Hordak wasn't aware of what his actual defect was (that he was special) until he started to experience his body betraying him.

Which leads us to his obvious health problems! But what are they if they are not the original defect? Hordaks body turned out to be very weak. He made himself an amour to hold himself together (btw I think that’s very impressive since he’s „just“ a clone, it shows how smart he was!) because his body was betraying him. Well I noticed sth Wrong Hordak said and showed us. THE NUTRIENT-RICH AMNIOTIC FLUID. Remember? When he cooked together with Glimmer he said “True nourishment comes from the favor of Horde Prime, also from nutrient-rich amniotic fluid.“ After that, he showed off an ampoule of this green liquid stuff that we've seen often in the show. Soooo since I´m sure that HP has better things to do than share his rare food with his clones I think they also ate things like ration bars BUT this green liquid seems to be most important to Horde Primes species… He himself is treated with it and even a “simple and worthless clone” like Wrong Hordak is equipped with it. It´s a property he carries with him, so it must be important. Maybe important for their state of health??

If that’s true… and I think it is… Hordak has had a massive lack of an indispensable substance his species requires! And that over years since he has been parted from Prime! No wonder he was doing that horrible! This would explain why his state of health got worse over time and why he no longer had green eyes. His own technologies helped him for a long time but soon failed. If Entrapta had not been there, to make him a new suit he probably would have died or sth.

But even Entrapta's technologies could not entirely help him. At least not enough. Not until he returned to Prime, because Prime had no trouble healing Hordak. It was Prime's technologies that Hordak needed, so why did he throw Hordak out when his defect was only a thing that HP could easily cure? So the physical defect was just a concomitant symptom of years of neglect.

In the end there’s one question left: Why did Prime accept Hordak into his ranks again if my theory is right? Why would he take Hordak back if he was able to resist the mind control. Easy. Horde Prime is an arrogant and selfish dumbass. He was sure that after all that happened he must be the one Hordak loved the most. He decided to watch and test Hordak and his faith (when he asked him to kill Entrapta). He wanted to see him suffer. And he knew if Hordak wasn’t faithful he could easily get rid of him. But he decided to play that sick game… and he lost because Hordak chose to break the chain of abuse.

So that’s it. My theory about Hordak! Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy!💜

#hordak #entrapta #she ra entrapta #she ra netflix #she ra 2018 #horde #horde prime #theory #headcanon #hordaksdefect

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actual-changeling · 4 months

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Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner! I am fuelled up with coffee and my adhd medication, so this is about to be a RIDE.

Apologies in advance, since this post will probably get quite long and also scientific at some point, but I will try to keep it as plain and easy to understand as possible. Combine two of my special interests (Good Omens and chemistry) and you get absolutely insane infodumps; it's a blessing and a curse.

As always, this is simply a theory, and maybe I'm wrong, maybe we'll never find out. But it's an option, and I have canonical proof.

There have been endless theories about why the Gabriel-Hiding-Miracle (which I will shorten to GHM) set off alarm bells in heaven and reached a strength of 25 Lazarii. Are their half-miracles really combined that strong? Does it depend on their relationship or love?

Well, today I am here to tell you that, actually, there is no such thing as "half a miracle".

We are going to have a closer look at miracles themselves, but the first important thing to keep in mind is that most of the time, Crowley and Aziraphale are incredibly unreliable narrators and have barely any inside into how heaven and hell work. Remember, they have been on earth since 4004 BC, they are certainly not used to any of the internal routines and functions.

They can tell us all kinds of things, but that does not make them true.

Now, miracles!

Both angels and demons are capable of performing them, though they only seem to be counted as actual miracles when they happen on earth, seeing as they measured in Lazarii.

One Lazarus equals the miracle power it takes to bring one human being back to life—the consequence is that miracles must be bound to the earthly plane, since that is where their unit originated from. When they are performed in heaven or hell, they are still miracles in a broad sense—celestial beings using their powers—but not in a way that ascribes to the measuring system.

Neil once answered an ask about Lazarus as a unit, and he stated that miracles tend to be measured in Centi- or Millilazarii (mostly the latter), meaning that the GHM was about 1000x as strong as your usual, daily miracle. The labeling also tells us that the scale for Lazarii is the same as the metric one.

If we treat Lazarus as a base unit, we need to find a way of defining it that is unique to this specific unit.

Globally, we have a collection of agreed-upon base units, the SI units (coming from the French Système international d'unités, aka International system of Units). Those seven are second, metre, kilogram, ampere, candela, kelvin, and mole, and every single one has a very specific definition—they are too bloody complex. None of them can be expressed with one of the other SI units, which gives you great definitions such as these:

A little excursion for those that are interested: For a very long time, the kilogram was defined by. well. A cube. The "true kilogram", which is still in a vault somewhere in Paris. However, you can probably imagine why basing a unit on a physical objects isn't a great idea long-term, so back in 2018, the kilogram was redefined, along with three other units.

Now, all SI units are defined by natural constants, not physical objects, making them accurate and (more or less) absolute.

Back to miracles!

The reason I am telling you all this is that we need to find such a basic definition for miracles, too, or at least an approximation.

My proposal is that a miracle itself is the force exerted on matter by a a celestial being. That force is then measured in Lazarii, with one Lazarus being equal to the force required to bring one person back to life. This is where it gets a bit tricky because how do you visualize that kind of force?

Matter cannot be destroyed only created, so all the particles currently making up our bodies will continue to exist long, long after our deaths. Meaning when a person dies, the amount of matter that was them is still there, the consequence of which is that their body can be recreated at will. Now, souls seem to be separate from matter, making them metaphysical and thus irrelevant for this conversation. I am going with the assumption that once a body has been recreated, the soul can be put back into without additional cost in miracle power.

There might be another base unit hidden in the metaphysical, but that's a conversation for another time.

All of this amounts to one fundamental hypothesis:

A miracle is either done, meaning matter gets changed, or it isn't, meaning matter remains unchanged.

There is no in-between stage here, a "half-change" is not possible, either you exert a force on particles or you don't. What kind of change that is might not be tangible for us, but a change is a change.

When Crowley and Aziraphale try to hide Gabriel, they change the way he gets perceived, how others perceive him, aka they change the way his presence is processed.

The closest thing to compare it to, in my opinion, is the superior mirage—the Fata Morgana. At its core, it means that light bends as it passes through air layers with different temperatures; your eyes perceive the bent light rays and your brain processes them accordingly. You see images that aren't actually there.

Celestial beings look at Gabriel but see something that isn't actually there, so the "true" image remains hidden.

If we stick to this metaphor, then Crowley creates a mirage for any ethereal beings, and Aziraphale creates one for occult beings. The creation of that mirage is one miracle—not half a miracle, but ONE singular miracle. Both of them change matter, and both of these miracles can exist independently of each other.

Crowley and Aziraphale could have created their mirages on their own, meaning that two miracles were performed, not two halves of one miracle.

If you listen to the sound of the miracles, you can hear that it's different from the other ones they have performed on their own, with the "combined" miracle having two sound peaks instead of one. Tumblr hates it when I upload audio files, so have it like this.

In order, the miracles are Aziraphale lowering the chandelier and moving the shelves, Crowley removing the paintball stain, and the GHM.

IF they had both performed half a miracle, the end result would have been one miracle, meaning it should have sounded like any other—but it didn't! Two connected sounds, two simultaneous miracles.

There is still one thing left to talk about, which is the power of their miracle. Here is where my previous definition of Lazarus as a unit comes into play again.

Heaven measured a miracle power of 25 Lazarii aka a very high amount of force exerted on matter. You might think Alex, if they both performed their own miracle, how come that the alarm bells rang?

If we keep up the mirage metaphor, we can explain that! Crowley's intention was to make it so that ethereal beings cannot perceive him, so his miracle changed matter in a way that aligns with ethereal perception.

However, Aziraphale intended to change matter so that occult beings cannot perceive Gabriel, meaning his miracle changed matter in a way that is adapted to occult perception.

This is where science comes into play again!!

You see, particles aren't just particles, they are waves too. Wave-particle duality describes exactly that, e.g. an electron being both a particle and a wave at the same time. A connected theory to that is the Uncertainty principle, which describes the inability to measure the exact value of two different properties at the same time.

Or, to put it more plainly, if you try to figure out the exact position of a particle, its momentum becomes blurred, unclear. If you then focus on the momentum of the same particle, you can no longer describe its exact position.

You are probably looking at me now, thinking where the fuck are they going with this and why are there suddenly so many principles of quantum mechanics in a Good Omens meta post???

Crowley changes matter in way A.

Aziraphale changes matter in way B.

Those changes can co-exist, like an electron being a particle and a wave at the same time. However—and this is scientific theory adapted to celestial miracles—when an angel looks at Gabriel, then they are focusing on state A. When demons are looking at Gabriel, they are focusing on state B.

Focus on A and B becomes blurry. Focus on B and A becomes blurry.

Maintaining that double-state requires power though, because compared to wave-particle duality, these states aren't natural, they're inflicted—matter was changed. It's like the matter around Gabriel is flickering between those two states, a light switch trying to find a neutral position when there is only on and off.

How do we measure that power? In Lazarii.

The miracle energy that heaven measured is not that high because they each performed half a miracle and combined it into one, it is that high because they each performed one miracle that stands in opposition to the other; as a result, two different states need to be maintained at the same time, meaning the manipulation is ongoing, meaning it needs a fuckton of power.

If you want to keep balancing your light switch, you need to keep trying, you need to keep up the pressure, otherwise you either click it off or on. Same thing with the hiding miracle.

Twenty-five Lazarii.

The power you need to exert on matter to reshape twenty-five people—or to continuously hide one being from two opposing observers with rapidly-switching state changes.

While I think the whole "it's because of love" theory is fun and cute, scientifically it really doesn't make much sense because their powers have rules similar to our base units, so me must approach and treat them as such.

With that, thank you to everyone who made it this far and managed to survive our little excursion into the field of quantum mechanics.

Questions, thoughts, additions, etc. are very welcome!

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #good omens meta #half a miracle #alex's unhinged meta corner

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harleyshahas · 8 months

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Something something thinking about being AFAB and still considering myself as female but realizing that I've never had any sort of attachment to my femininity, I don't present as particularly masculine in any way but have always been uncomfortable in women's clothes, but occasionally wanting to wear a nice dress out only because I know I look good in it, not because it's comfortable or that I feel comfortable in it.

Something something cutting my hair the second someone says it looks good the longer it grows, when I realize the longer it gets the more I pull it back into a tight ponytail so that none of it touches my face and I don't have to look at it, hate taking care of it, can't stand how long it takes to wash in the shower.

Something something slowly realizing that I have no relationship with my gender, that being she means nothing to me, that this past year has been about me quietly thinking on who I am outside of having a womb to birth my kid, how sex has always been weird to me, how I'm not sensitive in the places that matter during sex, how masturbation has always been a chore and how long it even took me to figure out what an orgasm is because I'm just not sensitive in the places that matter.

Something something how sex has never been fulfilling to me before my fiance, how I've never loved someone as much as him, how I want to have sex with him even if the physical act if it is not always satisfying simply because I enjoy his touch and I enjoy doing for him in a way I never have with past partners, how we put the others needs before our own, how the emotion between us makes it more satisfying than an earth-shattering orgasm ever could.

Something something how being bi doesn't matter to him, he doesn't make off-handed comments about wanting a threesome, we can each gush over same- and opposite-sex people and it's just silly fun.

Something something quietly mentioning that I may not be fully female and him not really understanding, telling me how good I look in dresses and more feminine clothing and me telling him, no that's not the point. I know I look good, I wear them because I know I look good and I know he likes them, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable in them. Him telling me that it's OK if I don't wear them, if I don't dress up, if I never want to dress up again, as long as I'm comfortable.

Something something labels being the Worst and how they just seem to cause me more stress trying to figure out where I'm at. I've never been quiet about who I'm attracted to. I have been quiet my whole life about how I feel about sex, I've been quiet over past relationships telling me what I should like, old friends speculating that I may be asexual, when that has never felt quite right either. Maybe I fall somewhere on the ace line. I know I fall on the pan line, but I've always identified as bisexual and that's what I like to stick with.

For a long time before my fiance, I thought I was aromantic. None of my previous relationships came even close to love, I never wanted to tell any of them I loved them. One even used love as a way of manipulation. Now, there's a quiet content when I'm with my fiance that never presented itself outside of platonic friendships; I want to kiss him and hold his hand and have sex, watch bad movies and listen to music and go on long trips. Someone I want to spend my life with.

And I mention not having a relationship with my gender and he's confused and doesn't quite get it, and honestly, after a year I'm still confused and don't quite get it, but it's also something I don't talk about, don't want to talk about, just quietly ruminate on. A part of me wants to try out a new name, a part of me likes the one I have. But I say all these things, and he's confused, but he holds me and tell me he loves me, and if I want to be a they then that's fine.

And I am filled with more love than I ever thought I was capable of for one person.

#harley talks #sorry i just have a lot of thoughts and nowhere to go with them #im getting married next month!#also been going thru a small gender self-discovery

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spiinsparks · 1 year

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— a child who raised a child / on homelessness ; food .

( * tws for homelessness / starvation mentions / malnourishment / and in general sonic having like really bad self-feeding habits )

||. so @aeniqmata & i were gabbing earlier as we do and l i s t e n...

Hedgehogs are omnivorous creatures similarly to foxes, except the diets are COMPLETELY flipped. A pet hedgehog’s dominant source of food is kitten food ( which does include high sources of protein, including meat sources like fish and chicken ) but they primarily eat veggies, insects (beetles, worms, etc.) and fruits. Foxes, on the other hand, foxes eat primarily meats, with less emphasis on veggies, nuts and berries.

All of that to say . . . finding a balance between the two of them that would benefit both of their needs was ABSOLUTELY incredibly difficult for Sonic and Tails. Tails needs more meat in his diet than someone with Sonic’s lifestyle could provide. Not to mention Sonic being 11-12 at the time. I won’t talk on flout’s tails’ behalf because honestly her thoughts on it are SO HECCIN COOL and I wouldn’t be able to do them justice - but I can say that while Sonic’s methods weren’t foolproof by ANY means, he did try to go well above and beyond his best.

We’re talking research into carnivorous diets, with emphasis on foxes, asking other mobian foxes on their travels about THEIR lifestyles in as casual a way as possible because if he HAS to do field research then dangit, he will. Saving up from various odd jobs so that the two of them could go out and eat and purposefully letting Tails pick out whatever suits his fancy (and, by that, I mean he very carefully observes him to see what makes his eyes light up, even if Tails doesn’t pick it on his own... and then ordering that for him anyways, even if it takes up most of his savings, because it’s what Tails actually WANTS rather than what he’s resigning himself to.) side note: but chilidogs being the sort of safe middle ground for the two of them??? Along with being relatively cheap to buy from vendors, and easy to make on the road.

Anyways, Sonic struggling to juggle their VASTLY different diets and feeling terrible whenever Tails might fall ill from not having enough - in general, not just when it comes to properly eating meats. (But also to that extent, meats potentially being harder for someone of sonic’s former income class (being: none) to get sometimes because of the nature of the islands and mobian-dense populations .... even if the critters exist??? I am a Think.)

There would be times when no matter how much Sonic would stock up, they ran out. And, even then, so often on the go, there’s only so much you can have with you physically on hand. Those times weren’t... great. But Sonic would go out of his way to make sure Tails ate what they had - usually the majority of what they had despite Sonic’s own speed very much meaning he needs to eat way, way more. (his logic: Tails is a kid, and the kid gets food first. Sonic can eat what’s left and is willing and capable of supplementing with whatever is around that he can gather.) And he knows he can’t outsmart the fox and he knows he can’t make him worry less, but he’ll play it off and offer to share if it means Tails Does Not Go Hungry Tonight.

Sonic is, even now, VERY used to going days without as much food intake as he needs and... at some point he just stopped noticing he was hungry until it started to physically catch up with him. (intense fatigue, general sluggishness, the occasional stomach pain when it got really bad, etc) Like, logically he knows he needs food, but he can’t really tell anymore on the day-to-day. the signs don’t show up so drastically for him to take heed of it and if he’s preoccupied, he’ll forget until it’s late, and then he realizes “oh i only had like (1) bagel today. should probably fix that.”

#homelessness tw #food tw #malnourishment tw #starvation tw #(idk lmk what else to tag if i need to??)#⸨ * HC ⸩ — i’m gonna reach for the stars although they look pretty far .#aeniqmata #aeniqmata / tails #(i tag u bc u made me think v hard about this /again/ and it is a sad one but look ok)#(u can rebagle if u want to u r the homie)

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devildomdisaster · 3 years

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Idk if you read Lore Olympus but chapter 129 gave me an angsty request idea.

So Persephone, who’s the goddess of spring, goes into a hibernation-like state and when her emotions go out of control, she ends up growing her hair really long and her body sprouts a lot of plants from her; to the point of covering her and whatever area she’s in with her plants.

So I would like to request head cannons of the Brothers reacting to an MC who gets really sad whenever the brothers insult or threaten them and after several weeks of being berated by demons it causes MC to shut down and go to their room but mistakes a comfort spell with a plant curse that causes their hair and plants to grow continuously long. The plants fill up MC’s room and while they would normally be surprised at the mistake, they don’t care any more. They allow the plants to to grow, even wrap around their neck and body, and hopes the curse kills them off before the brothers notice as they go in the “hibernation” stage of the curse (The curse causes the victim to grow a lot of plants and vines from their body until they die, which can take a few days).

I’m sorry for being so long and descriptive, I just wanna see the Bros panic and feel guilty that MC felt pushed to do this to themselves but I understand if you don’t want to do it

I don't read Lore Olympus but you described the situation really well so I hope this is something close to what you wanted.

Comfort spell gone wrong

Lately, nothing seemed to be good enough for the demons. No matter what you did one of them would find something to berate you for.

“Mc, your grades are subpar even for an exchange student. You’ll have to try harder in order to not be a disappointment to Diavolo and myself.” Lucifer warned over breakfast.

“Mc, you burned dinner. You should learn to be a better cook.” Beel grumbled. As if you had ever seen any of these ingredients before ending up in the Devildom.

Even Mammon seemed to be in a particularly unpleasant mood. A never-ending string of complaints about how hard it is to protect an ordinary human. “Geez, you’re such a hassle human.”

Taking refuge in the library to study and to give Mammon a break from you proved disastrous and nearly deadly. Somehow you’d managed to spill your cup of tea all over an old somewhat rare text after Asmo had barged in and startled you. Your string of bad luck continued when Satan rounded the corner and saw the soggy tea-stained pages you’d been trying to decipher. In his fit of rage, he’d called you several unpleasant names and asked if you were “capable of doing anything right or if all humans are as stupid as you?” You’d left as quickly as you were able to avoid any more of his wrath.

No matter where you went you kept walking in on Belphie napping and without fail he’d say something nasty to you, that would make tears burn the backs of your eyes.

Levi had angrily called you a “useless normie,” who he wished would “never come back.” and had pushed you from his room with a slam of his door.

Even Asmo who usually just ignored you when he was upset found every reason imaginable to critique your every aspect. Physical and personality. Not a single one of which made you feel any more than worthless.

So was it any wonder when at the end of a long week you’d locked yourself in your room and decided to try that comfort spell you’d heard Solomon talking about? It seemed simple enough. But then your tears had blurred your vision as you’d recited the words and your Latin was still shaky at best. But it was just a few lines! And there was no way you were going to go to one of the brothers for comfort when they had seemed perfectly happy to make you miserable for the last few weeks.

You’d read the spell aloud and curled up hoping that the spell would kick in and you’d feel even just the slightest bit better. The blinding green light and sudden drop in energy was the first and only warning the spell had gone wrong. But being new to magic meant it still sapped your energy, so you didn’t stop to think something might be wrong. By the time you realized what was happening, everything was out of control. Plants had begun to sprout from your skin and the floor around you, growing and growing. With each inch they grew you felt your exhaustion creep up and consume you. You were just so tired. Your eyes fluttered closed. This was wrong! You forced your eyes open again. You need to fix this. The spell! But a short nap wouldn’t hurt, would it? You’d have more energy after you woke up. Then you could go get one of the brothers. Satan would know how to fix this. Or Lucifer! He’d clean the spell up easily. Yes, after you woke up…

Lucifer hadn’t seen you all weekend. He figures you’re most likely studying. But you don’t show up for meals and none of his brothers have seen you either… and oh Diavolo! He can feel the spell from the dining room. How did he not notice sooner? The cold pulling sensation of the spell, like it was sucking the warmth and life from its surroundings.

When Lucifer reaches your door Mammon is already there. Knocking and shouting for you, but there's no answer. He all but breaks your door down, his brothers behind him, and finds you at the center of the spell. Unresponsive and covered in the plants using your energy to grow. The plants had begun climbing up the walls and twisting through your hair, sending out snow-white flowers.

“Beel! Don’t!” Lucifer warns as Beel reaches out to pull a handful of plants from you. “We don’t know what did this and what will happen to Mc if we just rip the spell off like that.”

“Lucifer, Mc did this to themself,” Satan points to the open spellbook. “It looks like they got a comfort spell mixed up.”

Fortunately, your last tired thoughts were correct and Lucifer is able to break the spell quickly. You wake surrounded by the brothers.

Lucifer:

All this happened for a comfort spell? Because you didn’t feel like you could come to him, to any of them?

He’s so sorry Mc. Enough that as he leans down to pick you up out of the mess of withering plants you can feel tears fall onto your face.

“Nothing I did was good enough for you Lucifer. Any of you. I just wanted to feel… I just wanted-”

His heart breaks when he realizes this is his brother’s fault, his fault. “You are always good enough, Mc. Much more than I could ever ask you to be, and if I ever made you feel like you weren't. No, the fact that I made you feel like you weren’t, means I have been truly terrible.”

You’re choking back your own tears now and you curl further into his arms as he carries you down the hall. “You said I was a disappointment.”

“My dear Mc, you have never been, nor could you ever be a disappointment to me. Forgive me for ever making you feel as if you were.”

Lucifer takes you to his bathroom and draws you a bath to wash away the last of the plant matter from your body.

Afterward, he’ll bring you anything you ask for. He wants to wrap you in his arms but doesn’t want to push you, so he asks softly if he can hold you.

He’ll spend weeks trying to make this up to you, even after you forgive him, he’ll be sure to tell you how much he loves you more often than he did before.

Mammon:

Shit human! Why didn’t you come to him? He loves you so much and oh. He made you feel like a burden.

How could he be so stupid when he knows how his brothers make him feel?

Mammon begs for your forgiveness in front of all his brothers.

“Please can ya forgive me? I never meant to make ya feel like a burden. You're the only human I- I want to protect you Mc. I’m so sorry.”

Mammon helps you up and since your room is covered in plants he offers to let you sleep in his room for the night.

He wraps you in blankets and brushes the hair from your face with trembling fingertips.

There are still a few stubborn leaves sticking to your face and in your hair so Mammon takes a warm washcloth and wipes them from your face before gently untangling the plants from your hair.

You’ll be getting little gifts and tokens of mammon’s affections for the foreseeable future.

Levi:

He threw you out of his room when you came to him for comfort and the guilt at seeing you almost die because of it is eating him alive.

He feels frozen

Maybe you would be better off without an otaku shut-in like him. He starts avoiding you like the plague.

You start to think that Levi is so disgusted with the fact that you did that spell that he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

Despite this Levi still checks up on you. He wants to know that you are ok, he just does it without you knowing.

He’ll ask his brothers about you and discreetly glance at you during meals to make sure you’re eating enough and look healthy.

A few days later when your favorite and manga anime start showing up outside your door you confront Levi. “Are you mad at me? Do you just not want to be around me after what happened? Levi, I miss you!”

He is shook, and he can’t believe he messed up so badly.

He’s happy that he can invite you to hang out again, and he makes sure to spend long nights gaming or watching movies with you until you fall asleep against him. He’ll even stutter out how much he treasures his time with you, blushing fiercely all the while.

Satan:

Satan feels anger swell up inside him. How could he have let this happen? How could no one have seen how upset you were?

Once the spell has been dissolved he is at your side instantly. Brushing vines from your skin. His fingers are shaking in anger but his touch is so gentle.

When both you and your room are cleaned up Satan sits at your bedside, book in hand, reading to you.

He just wants to be close to you now. He wants you to know how much he cares about you but is still too worked up to get his thoughts out properly.

Eventually, his thoughts calm and he stops reading in the middle of a sentence. “Mc, I am so sorry. I never meant to make you feel unwanted. Every day I spend with you is infinitely better than a day without you. I know the spell was a mistake but… we almost lost you. I almost lost you.”

He wants to talk about what pushed you to do this. He won’t push but he really does think that he will be better able to help you if he understands.

Satan makes sure to spend more time with you from now on. He makes a conscious effort to check his temper at the door and be with you when you need him.

Sometimes he’ll just read to you until one of you confides in the other in quiet voices.

Asmo:

As you blink your eyes open Asmo gently brushes some plants from your cheek.

You are so pale and his heart breaks as you flinch away from him. You feel like a mess and you know you must look like one too so curl your body away from him trying to hide. Trying to avoid his critical gaze.

This is the moment Asmo knows he screwed up.

He draws his hand back, for a moment, before reaching out to you again. Cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with perfectly manicured hands.

Lucifer has him take you to his bathroom to clean up while the rest of the brothers work to clear the plants from your room.

Asmo is quiet for a long while as he untangles plants from your hair.

“You’re so loved, Mc,” he says softly. “You are.” he insists when you shake your head no.

“More than you could ever know, and it’s our fault for not telling you. My fault for not making you feel worthy.”

After this incident, Asmo wants to make sure you know how beautiful you are. He starts self-care days once a week that soon turn into whole family affairs. Each week different combinations of his brother attend and you all work to pamper each other.

Asmo makes sure nothing like this happens again, he never wants to be part of the reason you feel unloved ever again.

Beel:

At first, Beel thinks you did this on purpose. Once the brothers realize you messed up the spell he is less angry but no less distraught.

Once you wake up, he wants to take you to get desserts. He’s heard humans eat Chocolate/ other sweets to feel better. And this makes sense to him, food does make everything better.

But you don’t want to go to Madam Screams or the kitchen to make your own. You’re still so tired. Not to mention embarrassed that you screwed the spell up this bad.

And now they are all staring at you like they care so much when none of them had any time to notice how they were making you feel before.

When you become unresponsive to the brother’s questions and apologies Beel scoops you up in his arms and walks away with you.

Something about the way he holds you close to his chest and his warmth causes you to finally let go.

You bury your face in his shirt to muffle your crying.

“I just… I felt so alone! And… I...but no one” you gasp out shakily between sobs.

Beel soothes you with soft murmuring as he gently cards his fingers through your hair and strokes down your back.

Once your crying quiets he starts to speak “Don’t do that again. You can always come to me Mc. I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t”

Belphie:

Belphie thinks it’s a joke at first. “Man, how could they mess up this bad?”

Then he sees Lucifer’s panicked expression and it hits him how serious this is.

Belphie is immediately by your side. Hands frantically feeling your wrist for a pulse.

After Lucifer breaks the spell and your eyes flutter open Belphie is filled with relief until a wave of guilt washes through him.

He can’t believe he fucked up so badly again. Sure this time he didn’t directly cause you physical harm, but he did play a role in causing you to almost die again.

“I am so very sorry Mc, I never meant to hurt you.”

He does everything he can think of to make it up to you. Anything you ask him for, as long as it’s within his power, is yours. No questions asked.

He asks permission just to hold your hand for weeks afterward as if he thinks you’ll come to your senses and decide you don’t want anything to do with him.

He wants to comfort you so bad.

To make sure you don’t feel like this again Belphie pulls you away to nap with him as often as he can get away with it. Most likely only a few times a week (much less often than he would like). Sometimes he uses this time just to talk with you. Others you really do nap, and Belphie curls himself around you. Occasionally he enters your dreams while you nap together to make sure no nightmares can touch you.

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

When He Meets His Long Distance Partner For The First Time ~ The Boyz Reaction

Sangyeon:

Your hand tapped nervously against the top of your leg as you watched the corners of Sangyeon’s mouth turn up into a smile in response to your good news.

Your own smile grew too as he leant in closer to the screen with his hands pressed to the top of his head. “You’re really going to come to Seoul? This isn’t a wind up, right?”

Your head instantly shook, “I promise it’s not a wind up, I’ve got some holiday to use up.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he chuckled, throwing his head back in disbelief, “when are you coming? How long for? There’s so many places I want to be able to take you too.”

“We’ve still got a couple of weeks to organise everything, it’s alright.”

With a shaky breath, Sangyeon’s head nodded back at you, “of course, although I don’t really care what we do, just finally being able to spend time with you will be nice enough.”

“I agree,” you concurred, “it doesn’t matter what we’re doing, just being in Seoul is enough.”

Your eyes flickered back up to the screen as Sangyeon continued to stare, “I can’t believe I finally get to see you, properly, in real life and right beside me.”

“I’ll be there in no time, not too long to wait now.”

Jacob:

Your eyes instantly lit up as you looked around the lounge, finding Jacob sat down at the end of a row of benches, scrolling aimlessly through his phone as he waited.

Your speed picked up and in no time at all your figure was stood before him. “Hi,” he nervously whispered as he looked up and saw you stood in front of him.

Arms instantly wrapped around your waist as you dropped your suitcase, “hi, how are you?”

“So good,” he chuckled as he squeezed you tightly against his chest, “I can’t believe you’ve finally managed to get over here, and you’re definitely a real person as well.”

“I’ve always been real,” you laughed, “or did you think I was a super smart catfish.”

His head shook back at you as he pulled away so that he could meet your eyes, “I never imagined how it would really feel to be able to meet you in person, that’s all.”

“Does it feel good to finally meet me in person though?” You asked back across to him.

His head nodded straight away, “it feels amazing, I feel like I might need you to pinch me a few times to let this sink in and not let me wake up.”

“You’re not dreaming, I really am here before you.”

Younghoon:

As you lifted the plane ticket up so that it crossed over the screen, you heard a loud gasp from the screen as Younghoon leaned forwards to the camera.

His hand beckoned for you to move the ticket back where he could see it, “please tell me I’m not dreaming when that destination says to Seoul.”

Your head shook gently, “one ticket to Seoul in two weeks, that’s exactly what it says.”

“That makes this all feel so real,” he whispered in a slight haze of disbelief, “you’re really going to be here in two weeks, and not just a face on my screen anymore.”

“Hopefully we can be a bit more normal too and see the same time of day.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Younghoon, “at last I don’t have to wait until the end of my day to speak to you, but instead I can spend the entirety of my day with you.”

“Sounds pretty cool, right?” You smiled, relieved as Younghoon’s smile grew too.

His head moved back away from the camera once again, “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to wait, I just want you to fly over right now and never leave Seoul.”

“We’ve lasted months already, a couple more weeks will be nothing.”

Hyunjae:

Your eyes looked around in bemusement as you stepped foot in Jaehyun’s room for the very first time, taking in all the sights that you’d seen so many times before.

It was different on a screen though, which Jaehyun quickly realised. “I bet it feels pretty strange to be in the room you’ve seen as my background for such a long time.”

Your head nodded in agreement, “I never really pictured this room as a real place, that’s all.”

“A bit like how we never pictured each other as real,” he sympathised, “you’ll get used to this place being real soon enough, it’s home at least for now anyway.”

“I never pictured myself getting here one day on our calls.”

His smile widened as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, inviting you to join him, “why don’t I show you around a bit, that way you might feel a bit more comfortable.”

“What’s there to show me that I haven’t already seen before?” You asked with intrigue.”

His hand extended to point across to a new addition to his room, “I had to create a little spot for you, so that it felt like you’re home too.”

“That’s adorably sweet of you, but your home is also mine.”

Juyeon:

Your body jumped slightly at the feeling of a pair of arms wrapping around you, preventing you from placing anything else into your suitcase to pack your belongings up.

As you turned your head slightly, your eyes met Juyeon’s. “I don’t want you to go tomorrow, it feels like you’ve only just arrived still, doesn’t it?”

You smiled weakly with a sigh, “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got too much going on at home.”

“This could be your home,” he frowned, resting his chin against your shoulder, “I know I’ve joked about it all week, but would moving to Seoul be so bad, I’d be here with you.”

“Life isn’t that easy Ju, it’s not something I can do straight away.”

His head nodded softly, “I’ll hold onto the hope that one day things might be able to change for the two of us, that’s all that I need for now anyway.”

“Neither of us know what the future will hold for either of us,” you assured him.

“As long as you’re there, I don’t mind,” he whispered into your ear, “whether you’re here or at home, none of that matters to me, as long as I have you.”

“You’ll have me, somewhere around the world I’ll be there.”

Kevin:

Your head shook as you walked into arrivals to notice a large banner held up in the crowd with your name written on it, and a figure jumping up and down holding onto it.

As soon as Kevin spotted you, the banner fell as his arms reached out for you, “I was worried you wouldn’t see me,” he laughed as he followed your gaze.

Your eyes rolled back at him, “was a banner that big really necessary for me to spot you?”

“I wanted to make your arrival special,” he proudly smiled, “and I knew it would make you happy too, I know you’re impressed by the banner really, I worked on it all night long.”

“It’s perfect, but only because you’re the one who made it.”

His arm snaked around your waist tightly, “if you thought the banner was good, you just wait and see the rest of the things I have planned for you this week.”

“Is it too late to consider getting a flight back home?” You teased in response to him.

“No!” He yelled, tightening his grip around you, “I’ve waited too long for this moment, there’s no way I’m letting go of you all week, you’re mine.”

“I guess we’ll just have to leave the banner here then, right?”

New:

The noise that hit you as you walked into the studio left you stunned, your eyes met Chanhee’s as he looked around to face you, noticing how slow your pace was as you walked.

Your head shook, but he had already pushed the door open as several pairs of eyes flickered around. “Members, meet Y/N,” Chanhee smiled, excited to finally introduce you.

Your eyes darted around as a tall figure approached, “we’ve waited so long to finally meet you.”

“At least now he’ll stop talking about you too,” another voice quickly interjected, drawing your attention across the room to where you recognised Kevin’s face.

“I’m sure he doesn’t talk about me, I’m hardly that interesting.”

Kevin’s head shook back at you, ignoring the glare that Chanhee shot him. “I’ve recorded him a few times, I could play them for you if you wanted me too.”

“Maybe later, there’s too many of you to meet properly first,” you joked with them all.

Chanhee quickly appeared by your side and agreed with you, “I’m not letting you guys embarrass me when Y/N has only just arrived in the country.”

“Chan, you’re normally capable of just embarrassing yourself.”

A nervous giggle came from you as you looked across at Changmin who sat beside you in the car, quickly looking away when you realised that he had heard you.

His hand reached across the car to grab onto your hand, “why are you still so shy?” He whispered, squeezing your hand to encourage you to look back at him.

Your head shook anxiously, “I guess it still doesn’t quite feel real that we’re physically together.”

“I guess it does feel a little odd still,” he agreed, offering you a smile, “we’re so used to just talking online, and suddenly we’re able to do so much more and spend more time together.”

“I never imagined that seeing you in real life would make me even happier.”

His hand squeezed against yours once again, “I’m just glad that you’re happy here in Seoul, and that you’re happy being here with me as well.”

“Seoul is amazing, and so are you,” you assured him, “better than I ever could have imagined.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he acknowledged, leaning in closer to you, “and just so you know, you’re pretty cool yourself, I feel very lucky to be here with you.”

“Stop being cute before you really do turn my cheeks red.”

Juhaknyeon:

As your eyes flickered up from the menu, you quickly noticed Haknyeon’s eyes darting downwards to look through the menu, keeping quiet as you stared across at him.

After a few moments he looked up, noticing your eyes still firmly on him. ��I don’t mean to stare; it still just feels pretty surreal that you’re in front of me right now.”

A soft laugh came from you, “would you prefer if I went back to being a laptop screen instead?”

“No way,” he chuckled, closing his menu and placing it in front of him, “being with you in person is ten times better than speaking to a screen in front of me.”

“I’ve spotted you staring at me multiple times through the week.”

A sigh gently escaped him, “I keep staring to remind myself that this is happening, I’ve dreamt about this for so long sometimes I question whether I still am dreaming.”

“What can I do to prove to you that all of this isn’t a dream at all?” You asked.

His hand lifted, using his index finger to tap against his cheek, “a kiss would be a pretty handy reminder that all of this is real right now to be honest.”

“I definitely think I can do that, any excuse to kiss you is good with me.”

Sunwoo:

Your body froze as you saw a man before you who looked just like Sunwoo, furrowing your brows together to work out whether it was really him before you or not.

As they took a few steps towards you, their smile widened. “Are you going to stand there all day?” They laughed, closing the distance between you both.

Your head shook as it slowly began to sink in, “Sunwoo? You really are real? Can I hug you?”

“Of course,” he laughed, opening his arms out for you to walk into, “I thought for a moment I’d got the wrong girl with the way that you looked at me.”

“I just didn’t know what to expect from this moment.”

His smile widened as he engulfed you gently, “neither did I, but that’s what makes it all the more special, the fact that we can just be ourselves.”

“I don’t know what to do, I think I’m just stunned,” you admitted back to him.

His head nodded understandingly, “just let it sink in for a moment that I really am this handsome in real life and then I promise you’ll be alright.”

“You’re impossible, even if you are incredibly handsome too.”

Eric:

Every corner that you turned came with a new surprise as Youngjae introduced you to the place he called home and the many sights that were around too.

As another gasp came from you, he decided to finally speak up. “Many of these buildings that you see right now are on our itinerary for this week.”

Your eyes moved across to look at him, “but they’re all so big and fancy, are you sure?”

“Of course,” he laughed, “I told you that I was going to show you the best that Seoul had to offer, plus they’re not as fancy as they look, most of them are pretty boring.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, it’s a far cry from what I call home.”

His head nodded back at you, “you get to explore a different part of the world with me, and I promise that by the end of this week you’ll love Seoul as well as you love me.”

“I’ve already fallen in love with Seoul, almost as quickly as I did you,” you complimented.

The corners of Youngjae’s mouth widened quickly, “you’ll have the time of your life being here, just you wait and see, you won’t ever want to go home.”

“Don’t say that I already wish I could be here forever with you.”

---

Masterlist

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theseerasures · 3 years

Text

RWBY V08C14 reaction post

haven’t done something like this for this fandom yet, but the finale was so much all at once that i could not muster any level of critical thinking the first go-around. my thoughts have...settled somewhat with a second rewatch. still nothing conclusive (obviously), but at least coherent enough to be written down.

in rough chronological order:

i am very into it, of course, but i’m still not quite sure what to make of the fact that this finale very explicitly pivots around Winter Schnee, to the extent that the episode (sans prologue and coda) are bookended by her. she begins the episode charging into a fight, and ends it the same way. even putting aside that her in-universe presence has increased by magnitudes, that we end a season where she has mostly been a sparse supporting player with THIS has implications i can’t suss out for her narrative role going forward.

going into the finale i thought that Ironwood vs. Winter would turn out to be another RWBY Flagship Fight (ie long and flashy and indulgent in the best ways), but i pretty much knew that wouldn’t be the case once the fight began in earnest and they immediately started talking to each other.

for what we did get i’m happy to say that the Core Dynamic of the fight was exactly what i predicted: Winter rushing in to melee and not giving Ironwood enough time to fire, Ironwood trying to make room by shoving her away and using his cannon as a makeshift club--even down to breaking the cannon formation BACK to dual wielding to give himself an edge.

i will say that for Winter to have blocked him head-on--this is James Ironwood, who once stopped an Alpha Beowolf cold with one bionic hand, and now he’s got TWO--with her broken noodle arms is...incredibly cool. stupid! but cool.

Ironwood doing the double pistol whip while screaming about how no one is grateful has i wouldn’t have to be doing this if you just behaved all over it.

in retrospect i’m not sure why i expected a RWBY Flagship Fight when just about every fight this season has been extremely different. the camera work is always fucking frantic, we’re often cross-cutting between different simultaneous fights, and there are far fewer shots where both combatants are clearly shown and evenly matched. about the only fight we’ve had resembling that is AceOps vs Penny waaaaaaay back in Strings--even the low-stakes triumphant JNPER + Winter vs. Ironwood fight in Creation was extremely short and crosscut with BRA vs. AceOps.

case in point: the showdown in Grand Central takes up pretty much the entire episode, but combatants are continuously entering and exiting, the setting’s physical dimensions feel wonky and surreal, and the fact that half of the people fighting have flight capabilities means we’re relying on wide shots and oners to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s a war now, and even though we follow only a handful of characters in it the fights carry that grander and more desperate tone.

Cinder relies twice this episode on just fucking nova-ing herself to overwhelm her Maiden opponents. it’s different from how she usually fights, which is still fireballs and conjured swords/projectiles--she’s learning to use her Maiden powers to wreak havoc on a larger scale, which a) reinforces what we already know of Cinder, but b) complements her recent relearning of subtlety and manipulation. still a tenuous balance of extremes that can and will shatter, though.

Weiss got to save everyone during the fight, and none of it mattered in the end.

the thing about priority one is that they all planned for this. they all went in planning for the contingency where they don’t make it out, where they have to watch others not make it out.

Weiss plucking Penny out of the air and Penny pleading to make the sacrifice play is an EXACT recreation of what happened in Enemy of Trust, down to the saved looking up at the savior while the savior is looking onward. she’s just swapped places with the Schnee in question, and...they are the priority targets this time, unfortunately.

Cinder smugly flipping her hair out of...her eyepatch...she really is living her best life and she knows it

Blake made the right choice, and it didn’t matter at all.

Qrow ending the last episode with a berserker charge at Harriet and then immediately pulling back here and trying to talk her down really got to me, as did him trying to block the bomb with his body. the man is so desperately trying to be better than he was, and it doesn’t take a lot anymore for him to realize the right path.

Elm and Vine--

the thing about Elm and Vine is that both their powers boil down to getting attached. so watching Elm hold Vine in place while Vine holds the two airships together, everyone in this little world, it’s...everything i could ever want, out of how the story of the AceOps would end.

Anairis Quinones for dark horse MVP. why can’t you just let me do my job, delivered in the way that it was, is the perfect encapsulation of Harriet Bree desperately trying to outrun her personal feelings and the grief it has given her.

Elm tells Harriet that she’s their friend, to stop her from killing a part of herself as she tries to kill others. it’s the first time this happens in the episode, but not the only time.

Penny saved Blake so they could save Ruby together, and it didn’t matter at all.

our heroes have GOT to stop falling for the “watch the thing flying in the air! OH WAIT I STILL HAVE A WEAPON IN MY HAND WALLOP WALLOP” trick. it happens multiple times in this one episode.

Harriet, who has the fastest Speed Semblance known, says there’s no time to make it out of the blast range. she doesn’t try to outrun it. she just...stays put, and admits that she brought them all here, to this. i’m sorry.

here’s the thing: they’re soldiers. they were prepared for this eventuality, where they don’t make it out. that’s why Elm let Vine go grab Harriet; because she thought they were all going to die, and if that happened she wanted Harriet close enough to reach.

but--just like with Team Hero--some of them do make it out. they just have to watch.

Vine and Hazel sacrificed themselves in the same way in the end: pulling their loved ones close wasn’t working, so they threw themselves around the thing trying to kill them instead.

Ruby was clever, and pragmatic, and brave. it didn’t matter in the end.

Cinder letting Neo fall as soon as she gets a chance proves that she still lacks patience, and that’s going to bite her in the ass.

the Penny-Blake fastball special and the fall; Penny crying tears for the first time, but not moving immediately to rage, as she had last episode, when Yang fell.

Weiss’ shaking hands around Gambol Shroud, crying berserker tears as she tries, desperately, to pull off another miracle. it’s another role reversal in a way: her sister’s the Riza Hawkeye, but she’s the one emptying useless clip after useless clip into an enemy she can’t kill, because her heart has been ripped in two.

the last time Nora Valkyrie saw Jaune Arc, they clasped hands, and their eyes met with determination, and hope.

it figures that a Schnee would be the last one standing, letting all her friends die first. she was right, but again: wrong Schnee.

Weiss diving past Cinder’s blind spot to slice the Grimm Arm, to save Penny--the same script, but the wrong player. and too late.

at Haven, Jaune went from trying to do harm to unlocking his Semblance, and realizing that he was meant to heal. here, he goes from trying to do what he is meant to do, what he has made peace with, to...

it will take a long time, i think, for him to learn to live with himself, even with Penny reassuring him that this is what she wants. to go from wanting to harm to being the one who does no harm, to being forced to acknowledge a person’s right to die, and carry out the deed himself. it’s a new variation on what he’s always had to wrestle with since Pyrrha’s sacrifice.

Weiss managed to outlast Cinder Fall without an Aura WITHOUT getting her entire body broken, Winter

the boundary between material worlds is made of darkness. the boundary between souls is made of light, and there is no danger of falling.

where...what is this? of course Winter doesn’t know. she never would have, even if she had gotten the powers, because she would have used the Transfer machine.

i thought of you, and here we are. that was all it took. the last time Penny saw Winter, Winter was still loyal to Ironwood. she’s only known abstractly, secondhand from Weiss, that Winter was on their side again and trying to help save Mantle, for about an hour. and yet: i thought of you.

and in the face of this thought that is love, Winter averts her eyes. tries in vain to hide her face, because she knows she is unworthy. she doesn’t deserve this.

but here’s the thing: no one deserves this. Penny. are you...the one? even Penny herself wasn’t sure.

you were my friend. the second time it happens this episode. friends save friends from themselves. friends transform what would have been murder into sacrifice.

remember what Penny said to Cinder, shortly before Cinder killed her? you wouldn’t know anything about friends. she’s right. it wasn’t Cinder’s choice, but she’s right. and now Cinder has learned how to use that.

i’ll be part of you. it is, of course, something that’s been brought up repeatedly this whole season. but it’s also what Winter said to Penny after Fria died: she’s a part of you now.

and i do love this yoking together of arc words. Winter is of course the firstborn Schnee, but Winter is, more broadly, The Firstborn in this new generation. so here we have something similar to the chain that begins with Winter letting her sisters go, through Penny letting Emerald go, through Emerald helping Oscar escape, to Atlas’ however ephemeral victory over Salem. what Winter begins--haltingly and with resentment--becomes transformed into radiant grace in the hands of her younger siblings. and she gets to be the direct benefactor this time. the prodigal daughter returns to her family.

during Enemy of Trust we watched from the outside as Oscar fell and Penny rose, as one set of eyes closed as another opened. during The Final Word, we watch from the inside: one set of eyes close. another opens.

Winter’s leitmotif plays on the piano for the first time since the previous season as she comes back to the world. it makes sense. the piano version is for her sisters, and she just left one of them.

here is the apotheosis of Winter Schnee: she gets back up. she falters and sways but she gets back up, and then she, the person who once managed to convince herself that so long as she could make peace with someone else’s choice it meant she too was choosing, tells the man who has been choosing for her for years: you chose nothing. and she rises.

in the end James Ironwood was finished by his petard thrice over. Atlas had defected against him. his greatest creation had become the Maiden and unshackled herself from him. and there is of course, the cannon: a literal petard, in the other words, which he fires at Winter, and Winter reflects back upon him.

Jaune Arc used the heirloom that his family has held for generations to kill a defenseless girl. he took the blade and sunk it in deep, because Penny trusted him and he had to be sure.

and then it shattered in his hands.

there’s something here in the second fight between Maidens, about Cinder having a named weapon and forsaking it for what she can make on the fly, and Winter insistent on using a weapon with no name at all, but i still can’t put my finger on it.

Winter never got to see Weiss try to Summon her Nevermore.

the thing that gets me about how it turns out is: Winter was winning. she’d managed to get her hands on the Staff, and even with Cinder’s immediate counterattack she managed to get the Staff away from Cinder. but then Cinder saw Jaune and Weiss, and she remembered a few days ago, when Penny saved Winter instead of going after Cinder, when Winter attacked Cinder to save Penny.

so Cinder attacks Weiss and Jaune instead of racing for the Staff. and Winter--

this is Winter Schnee. she saves people despite herself. she runs toward them, despite herself. and it has always, always been what saves her.

not anymore.

last time it had been Winter who was in mortal danger, and Weiss who, with Ruby’s help, drove Cinder off. same script, wrong player. and too late.

Weiss falls and for a moment, the camera makes it seem like Winter is falling too.

she wants to. no one deserves this.

the thing you have to ask when characters leap for the exit and fall just short is: is it about faith, or friendship? in Jaune’s case it’s both. his faith broke with Crocea Mors. and the portal is one-way, so he had no friends to grab him from the other side.

but Nora was still trying. they clasped hands. she promised.

the first time Winter sees her family--really sees them, after years of separation--she averts her eyes. she hides her face from them, because how can she tell them that Weiss is gone? how can she tell Penny’s friends that Penny is a part of her now, when Penny is just a part, now?

there are people all around her looking to her. there are voices within her. she has never been more alone.

(Winter Schnee has never met Pyrrha Nikos, and Pyrrha Nikos never became Maiden. because Pyrrha Nikos never became Maiden. Cinder Fall did that, too.)

this is what Winter Schnee thinks, as she screams and charges, as she kills Grimm faster than they are drawn in by her despair: in the fairy tales, eldest siblings never win.

i failed you again, master. master, but not queen.

Cinder won this. the heroes tried and tried and tried and none of it mattered, and she won this. but here’s the thing: Cinder won because she was LUCKY, and because she made her own luck. that she was able to pin things on Neo and Team Hero depended on things going exactly as planned, and some things going better than planned. and the reason she’d even made it that far was because she cheated, with the last use of a divine relic. it doesn’t take away her from her victory, but what i do know is this: this is her finest moment. she will never win as completely ever again, and she will fall farther than she has ever feared. (and that will save her, in the end.)

and that’s checkmate. i said that i wanted Atlas to fall the same way that Amity rose, but of course they did it like this. of course it would horrific yet unspectacular, with its General slumped in defeat, unable to fire a single shot from his gun. with the city in the sky falling onto Mantle, in Mantle’s palette. from the Dust from which it arose into Dust again.

as below, so above.

#rwby #helen writes meta

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Tell Me The Truth

Notes: For the request by @milly23. Happy birthday!! <3

Summary: Angel Dust notices something about Alastor and tries to make the other admit it for himself.

Maybe Alastor had it coming with the way he had been provoking the other every other moment for the past week. Maybe he should have seen it coming when Angel sidled up to him one day, teasing curiosity ringing in his eyes. Maybe in hindsight, the question was a completely normal thing for anyone to ask. However, Alastor found himself dumbfounded by the words that left Angel’s lips next.

“Do you like to be tickled?” he asked, the bluntness of the question almost more shocking than the words itself. Angel rested against the back of the couch, peering over the other’s shoulder to look at his face. Alastor stiffened at the proximity, before his lip curled up into a superior grin.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, my dear,” Alastor replied simply, turning a page in his book. “Why would you ask such a ridiculous thing?”

Angel narrowed his eyes. He had gotten better at telling when the other was bullshitting over their time together in the hotel. Based off the way Alastor refused to meet his eyes, his gaze trained firmly on the book in front of him, he decided there was a fairly high chance that the radio demon wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Well, I’ve just noticed,” Angel drawled. “That you never seem to protest all that much when I tickle you. Not to mention, you seem to be awfully provocative lately, which is usually my specialty. Do you have any idea why that might be?”

“None whatsoever,” Alastor snipped, his grip tightening on the edges of his book. He had genuinely intended on reading it earlier, but by this point he was finding the task to be quite difficult. “What you call provocative, I call annoyance with the ridiculous antics you put on every day. And I’m sure I’ve asked you to stop many times; it’s not my fault if you haven’t noticed.”

“Really?” Angel walked around the couch, coming to take a seat besides the other. Alastor forced himself to hold his position, even though the way the other was suddenly sidled up next to him was making him want to do anything but. “Is that so?”

“Yes—”

“Because I can’t recall you saying it once.”

Alastor paused. In hindsight, he really should have said something in protest, just to throw off suspicion. However, it was increasingly difficult to convince himself of that when the threat that the other might actually stop loomed threateningly over him. For now, he settled on pressing his lips together in noncommittal silence.

Angel grinned. Bingo. “What’s wrong, Al? You seem so quiet suddenly.”

A smile was fighting its way onto Al’s features, his lips turning up against his will.

Angel walked his fingers up his arm slowly, each step foretelling Alastor’s doom. “I think that I’m right. And if I am, that means you would put up absolutely no resistance if I tried to tickle you, oh… now, for instance?”

Alastor’s heart leapt in his chest, his pulse racing about a mile a minute. Angel’s fingers had reached his shoulder and were now tracing light circles over the area, sweeping teasingly close to his neck. “A-Angel,” he said weakly, wishing he didn’t so desperately want this so that he could do something, anything, to stop it.

“Hmm?~” Angel inquired with a wonderfully smug grin. “Is something the matter?”

“T-This is quite ridiculous,” Alastor tried, his shoulders scrunching up involuntarily against the touches which danced on the edge of his nerves.

“Consider me a comedian.”

Alastor’s arms trembled where they held his book, and he felt frozen in the moment, unable to move away from the strangely addicting sensations and yet incapable of giving into his desire for more. Nails descended slowly towards his neck at last, softly tracing the skin, and Alastor’s grin widened as he shrunk lower into the couch.

“Do you want me to stop?” Angel asked as shudders zipped down Alastor’s spine. “All you have to do is say the word and this can all end.”

“P-Plehease, Angel!”

“Not please,” Angel corrected. “There’s a different word isn’t there? Do you remember what it was?”

Alastor shook his head, unable to say anything in retribution when everything in him pleaded for this to never end. He bit his lip, fighting back the soft giggles escaping him.

“Oh that’s right!” Angel exclaimed, reaching out and poking Alastor’s sides suddenly. “ ‘Stop!’ That’s all you have to say if you want this to end.”

Alastor yelped as Angel tossed a leg over his lap suddenly, pressing him down into the couch. With two of his hands he pinned Alastor’s wrists over his head, wiggling the other two teasingly above him. “How about this,” Angel proposed, grinning in devilish delight. “You admit you like being tickled, and I’ll keep you here like this until you can’t breathe anymore. What do you say?”

Alastor’s face was flushed, his eyes wide as he took the other in. He opened his mouth to reply, but in that exact moment Angel’s hands descended, ten fingers scribbling teasingly over his sides with reckless abandon. Any words he had planned to say were quickly lost to him as he dissolved into manic laughter, squirming as much as he could in his position.

“Aw, you’re so cute like this,” Angel cooed, his nails trailing devastatingly over his skin. “Not a big bad demon at all. What would all of Hell say if they could see you like this?”

“T-Thehehey nehehever wihihill!” Alastor spluttered, tugging at his trapped arms. “A-Ahahaha, Ahahahangel, plehehehease!”

“You know, you keep saying that,” Angel said. “But what exactly do you mean by that? Please what? Please stop? Please keep going?” He pinched his hips experimentally and Alastor spasmed, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Alastor kicked his legs out uselessly. Sensation whizzed through him, making him brain fuzzy as attempted to focus. “N-Nahahaha, ihihihit tihihihihickles!”

“That is the point,” Angel agreed.

He continued to tweak and poke his hips until Alastor was practically writhing on the upholstery. The latter’s face screwed up, his nerves flaring at each and every touch. “A-Ahahahangel! Thihihihis ihihihisn’t fahahahahahir!”

“No?” Angel reached back, grabbing onto his knees along with his hips, and Alastor screeched, nearly jumping out of his skin. “Then why aren’t you stopping me? I know you’re more than capable of doing so.”

It was true. Alastor knew that, technically speaking, he could stop this if he wanted to. In a one-on-one fight between the two of them, Alastor would always win. And yet, the demon was held by a far greater force than physical strength—the need to lose himself. He needed the feeling of fingers wiggling over his skin, to drown in a sea of laughter, to feel the desperation rising to his throat.

“Hmm?” Angel mused, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I haven’t received an answer. Maybe I should go somewhere else. Maybe upwards?” He eyed his ears with a smirk and Alastor yelped, shrinking back into the couch.

“N-No, wait! Nahahat thehehere!” Alastor crowed quickly. “Ihihihi, ahaha, uhuhum—”

“Yes?”

Angel lightened up the tickling, so that his fingers merely traced and swirled over his stomach; it was still unfairly ticklish, but not as much as before. Alastor swallowed, averting his eyes with a slight flush to his cheeks. “M-Maybe I don’t mind it as much as I might have claimed.”

Angel’s smile softened a little at the stammered admission, and he leaned down suddenly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Alastor froze, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. “W-What was that?”

“That was your reward. And this—” Angel vibrated his hands over his ribs suddenly, making Alastor burst into hysterical giggling—“is your punishment. After all, I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

#tickle fic #fic request #hazbin hotel #radiodust #angel dust #alastor #cartoons #fanfic #fanfiction #tickling #requests

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thesaltminesrph · 3 years

Text

PSA: Be Upfront

Communication is important in RP.

Now, to preface, I am not going to use the really awful phrase "it's a hobby not a jobby" because this is a really sketch take on what is important to people. You can have a hobby mean a lot to you, be you a collector, a gardener, someone that builds model airplanes, a writer, an artist, etc. Those are all hobbies, and the fruits of your labor are NOT only valuable to you and others if you are paid for them. This saying implies that should you never be a published author, never have a painting sell, never do something that can be sold or have a time clock punched, it doesn’t at all matter. It’s a really discouraging thing to be telling people, quite honestly. I have multiple hobbies outside of RP. Kind of really sucks to see constantly they don’t matter because nobody pays me for what I do. I know I’m not the only one who has said this, but the majority aren’t willing to say it amongst the clamoring of ‘rp isn’t a job’ because then you get people jumping down your throat. Hear me out though! I’m not done.

“BUT I HAVE REAL LIFE!”

Yes! So do we all! We all have problems, and things to take care of. The RPC is littered with people with mental illness, neurodivergence, chronic physical illness (I hit all three categories multiple times, LUCKY ME!). Do not, I repeat, do not ever feel like you need to put RP before: bills, marriage/children/other relationships, your health. Literally, do not have your takeaway from this post be these are secondary to your hobby. They are not. Do not get evicted because you were too busy doing RP at your desk at work, that’s just plain dumb af.

You owe people decency means:

-if you can only do aesthetic posts this week because you are low on writing spoons, that’s fine

-if you had work/health/mother-in-law take over you life this week and you literally didn’t have time to log-in even though you wanted to, that’s fine

-if you are sick in bed and can’t bother to write, that’s fine

What it also means:

-dropping what was supposedly a years long ooc friendship because the other mun isn’t dropping their current muse for you and following you into a different fandom ‘because they’re now boring’ and telling them as much in a message...is shitty behavior.

-daily reblogging multiple memes that people are sending in to you, your wire, your discord, ignoring both those and messages to plot, then whining on the dash that no one wants to write with you (also known as trying to guilt trip interaction, obviously you only wanted it from one specific person not the people actively engaging you)...is shitty behavior.

-claiming you’re open for plots and memes, then only replying to the one or two people consistently for 6 months...is shitty behavior.

Again, in case it wasn’t clear- it’s your blog, it’s your life, it’s your health. That’s not in question.

HOWEVER- be upfront and give people some honesty! What do I mean by that?

If it’s feasible, post that you need a writing break, even if it’s going to be indefinite. Take as many fucking breaks as you need to for your physical and mental health to be the best they can be (I’m not going to say great, as I know what it’s like to just have a ‘good’ health day mean ‘it’s less shit than it could be’).

But if the situation is really you only want to write with these one or two people, just say so! It’s your blog, you’re allowed to decide you’re closed for plots, asks, etc. Just don’t lead people on. Don’t say something and mean something else. Don’t keep reblogging your promo and really you don’t want to write, and you don’t plan on taking on new mutuals, and don’t plan on replying to dms or threads from anyone else.

I’ll repeat it a little differently to be sure it’s clear- you dictate your activity level and number of mutuals, when you answer asks, threads, etc. This should be at a level that is suited for you and your life, health, etc.

BUT when you engage in RP you are involving someone else’s free time with yours, and it is not fair to them to act like they do not matter. You have involved someone else. Until you disengage from them, be courteous.

I’ll give you an example. When you ask for that starter on both your dash, then DMs, and act super hyped, getting the other mun excited for it, and then they put the time and effort into writing it up and posting it for you, expecting a reply? Only for you to go and make new blogs and immediately ditch that muse without a heads-up? That’s not really fair to the other mun. You communicated you wanted to write this, you hyped them up, they spent their time and writing spoons on your starter...and then you told them other people were more exciting and a better use of your time.

“BUT I DIDN’T TELL THEM THAT!”

Okay, so you didn’t message them ‘Hey loser, your starter sucked, your muse is boring, and honestly, a different fandom is better! Bye!’ But your actions sure give that impression, and unless you communicate otherwise, it’s a shitty move.

Now yes, sometimes you genuinely forget a starter was written because you thought it was drafted and it wasn’t, dumblr is an ass and loses your draft and then you forgot it, something came up that day and bumped it from your mind, etc. NONE OF THESE ARE WHAT I AM REFERRING TO. I have ADHD, object permanence is the thing my brain does where often unless it’s directly in front of my face, it doesn’t exist, until I find it again. I’m aware these things happen, as are most muns, and we don’t mind! Hell, we usually have in our rules “hey if it’s been a hot minute and we haven’t replied to this, feel free to give us a little nudge to see if it’s been lost” because we all know between brains and dumblr’s everlasting fuckery...shit gets lost.

I’m talking about those times where you just up and leave someone hanging without communication. I’m also not saying it might even be on purpose. What I’m saying is you should consider how other muns feel when you do this, and if you cannot avoid it, at least communicate with them.

“Hey, I’m just no longer going to be writing this muse. Sorry I had you write that starter. Do you want to try something with this new one? This is where my brain is at right now.” “Hey I really can’t be online this month thanks to fill-in-the-blank but I do still want to write when I am able.” “Hey, I see you sent in that ask. I’m only interested in this one ship, and I won’t be taking on new threads, but you’re welcome to follow and maybe I’ll take on new threads later. I’m just writing with these two people right now.”

Communication is something that is a requirement in a collaborative hobby.

I know it can be scary. I know the mentality ‘well they reblogged that meme but it’s not for me, I know they said they want to plot but they don’t mean me’, but you really have to get past that when you roleplay to be fair to other people.

Spoiler alert: the examples of shitty behavior further above are what help feed this ‘that post/meme isn’t for me’ mentality, when you do those things you’re fostering people’s anxiety and rejection sensitivity...just saying.

If someone gets mad at you for communicating with them, they’re a shitty person and block them. Literally if someone has a problem with you for trying to start something, especially as mutuals, you’re losing nothing by not writing with them. Find nicer people. So don’t be afraid to communicate you can’t write currently, you need a break, you’re only writing with these certain people. And don’t be afraid to send in the meme. I promise you, the right people appreciate courteous communication. The ones that don’t...

Again, no one is saying put your life on hold for RP, you’re never allowed to narrow your scope, you’re supposed to always have writing spoons, you need to produce five replies a day or you’re wrong, you always need to log-in to communicate you had a family emergency/depressive episode/etc.

What I am saying, is if you are capable of communicating, respect the time and energy of your fellow muns who may also be very low on spoons and free time themselves, and be honest about where you are at when it comes to taking on new threads, new asks, new partners, etc. Treat others how you want to be treated, and consider you probably wouldn’t like being on the receiving end of the behaviors I’ve described. If you need to be on the clock being paid to be a nice person...please re-evaluate.

#rp help #rph #roleplay psa #rp psa #rpc psa #rp etiquette #general etiquette

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starstruck-shima · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬. (𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢)

“Even gods can’t help but stop to catch a breath.”

Notes: fem reader.

There were many things I wondered about.

After so many years of living, so many eons of asking questions without answers, I simply stood in the middle of a dandelion field, surrounded by crystal flies--Like a fool.

As I gaze upon the starstruck sky, what would lie ahead of me now? I was but a directionless being, with nowhere to go. My kin were gone, separated by walls that spared no mercy, not even to the birds. Now, all that remains of such were merely ruins of old. Its as if I’ve completely lost my purpose--no longer a protector of Mondstadt, no longer worthy of the long lifespan I was blessed with--Just a being of pure element, lost and astray.

It was there when I first felt the wind glaze over me so softly, and it was the first time I met you. At that moment, I felt a moment of rebirth. You were so kind, glazing upon me with such hazy eyes, and I felt so out of place. You, the ever glowing saint, an archon of the new world, and me... a soldier with no master.

I couldn’t even muster up words, for I was ashamed. Ashamed of what you’d think of me. So I did the bare minimum, for a being with heavy debt to Mondstadt itself. I ask for my punishment. “I lower my head to you. Please, set me free.”

His response however, shattered my expectations. With little to no hesitance, his reply flew like the wind. “That is for you to bring upon yourself.”

W-what? My eyes felt like saucers, as my throat ran dry. What did he mean by that? Freedom, retribution, I deserved none of that. The sin I hold upon myself by serving Decarabian is too much for a simply apology. It’s a burden I must carry.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” I rise my head to the call of my name. “--Former soldier of Decarabian’s. But most importantly, a lover of Mondstadt.” His hands outstretched to mine, and for some reason, it was as if I was naturally drawn to him. I knew his name, I knew who this was. Barbatos. It seemed that it wouldn’t take long for me to realize that no matter what form he took, he was still the same inside.

Archon, elemental being, bard. No matter what, Barbatos was Barbatos, and he gave me the ability to see truly for the very first time. That my freedom was in my own hands.

“Then, with the freedom you’ve given me...

Let me vow to protect Mondstadt, for as long as I live.” It was going to be a very, very long time. I knew that. But I shall do this with the freedom I have granted myself. For the good of the four winds, of the nation I loved, and Barbatos, this is the vow I will stand in for as long as the wind howls.

...And that was how I ended up with this total drunkard of a god for the rest of my days.

Should I have begged even more for my execution? Probably. But would Barbatos still spare me? Most likely so.

“Dandelioooooonnn~~” his words were slurred, like he was riding a merry go round of booze. “Why won’t you let me touch you? Hey, come here~~”

“--That is unnecessary,” our friends watched as we bantered, me dodging Venti’s barrage of physical affection, and Venti... still trying no matter what. The traveler, who sat opposite of us, could only stay bewildered at the story, and the stark contrast of its two main heroes today.

“S-so, this is the fierce warrior who was granted the mercy of Lord Barbatos?!” Paimon’s mouth was agape. She stops for a breath, before carrying on. “You m-mean, (Y/n) once KNEELED to Venti?! Not only that, but the Barbatos in that tale feels so different than the Barbatos now!”

“It’s like watching an old married couple.” The traveler adds on to Paimon’s speech, still in disbelief. “So, that was how you met?”

Pushing away Venti’s hands, I try my best to keep a straight face. “Yes. The tales you hear the townsfolk tell to their children are partially true. however. the one Venti and I have told you tonight is how it really went down.” I chuckle at the thought. Who knew our first meeting had such an impact? “Though I’m glad it’s been teaching the kids a good life lesson or two.”

As my eyes trail back to Venti, I was hit with a softness, the same softness I felt after my adrenaline rushes were over, and when I knew everything was safe. I was pretty sure the traveler noticed my fondness too, but it’s alright. It’ll be our little secret. “Say, traveler. Let me let you in on a hymn of the bards of Mondstadt.”

“No matter how far the wind blows, everything stays,” I shift a bit at Venti’s weight, finally letting him rest on my shoulder. He reeked--though that was to be expected. “Right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes.”

I hope the traveler knew what I was talking about. In any case, the feel of Venti’s hand in mine, and the way he looked at me with such gentle eyes even whilst intoxicated proved such phrases to be true. We’ve gone through change, we’ve become different people. Once a warrior, once a rebel, now simple folk of Mondstadt, learning how to love like the people do. Once on different sides, fighting for the same freedom, and then--as the same wind blows, our relationship with each other slowly differed.

“So~” Paimon started to speak again, this time in a mischievous tone. “How did you two fall in love?”

Unexpectedly, I threw out a hoarse chuckle. Love. Such an unexpected experience that had befallen me. The truth was, I never expected it--at least not during my days of serving Decarabian. But as the times past, and when nations grew, I began to realize quite the consensus. The Mondstadt I protect now is still the same, yet things are different now. I didn’t need to devote myself to endless servitude, to slice monsters in half--because there was barely the need for it nowadays. Mondstadt’s people are capable of protecting themselves, and perhaps that was what Venti wanted me to believe.

“And then, perhaps that was when he grabbed the opportunity and freedom to woo me.”

“Ho ho, and it worked!” I roll my eyes at Venti’s sudden jab. Geez, what a childish god. “She used to be so serious. “I will protect Mondstadt!” “I will devote my life to it!” “No threat will ever pass you, Barbatos!” And then she’d run off to the wind, flipping her hair and acting all cool.”

“--But give her a flower and a song and she’s all red like an apple! Ahahahaha!” I wince at the embarrassment, quickly shutting his mouth. The traveler and paimon seem amused at the sudden revelation, and this was when I realized that it was probably best to do some damage control before my dear lover would be sleeping on the couch tonight.

Bidding the two and the bartender at Angel’s Share a farewell, I shoulder Venti, making sure to guide him deftly through the streets of Mondstadt. As we pave through the mostly empty surroundings, I start to feel warm--almost proud of the new Mond of today. How long as it been since the people were granted freedom? Since I had been able to stop and see the fruits of the labors its people who fought for it grow? It’s a nostalgic feeling, really.

“Heya, (Y/n).” It seemed that Venti noticed my silent musings. I hum a response, with no expectations whatsoever. If it was a question about how far we were from home, surely that--

“Marry me.”

I nearly ran into the pavement there and then. Marriage? To Barbatos? To Venti? To the man I knew as my lover? Wait, of course the person you’d get married to is most likely your lover. Then, why am I still so flustered? Why is it that with this man, everything felt so different and new? How is it that he could make such a mess of me, yet make me whole?

“Hey, why are you so quiet?” He pouts, adorably I might add. I still stumble to catch my breath. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind... “We’ve been together for so long, we’re pretty much just giving rings to each other. Come on~”

“Geh... When you put it that way... can’t you take this seriously?”

I felt a sudden drop--a different feeling place itself on him, and all of a sudden, he vocalizes many, many words. “I have! I’ve consulted the church, I’ve looked at all kinds of rings and other things you might prefer for proposals, and I’ve been thinking about it even in eons of slumber! I want us to be happy, (y/n), but most importantly, I want you to be happy, so regardless of your acceptance, it’s fine if we stay by each other’s sides, right?”

My breath hitched. Tears were threatening to prickle my eyes. Of course he’d be so thoughtful, yet so playful too... don’t tell me. “I don’t want you to propose to me while you’re drunk, Barbatos... but you’re actually sober, aren’t you?”

“Ehe.” He chuckles, before getting on one knee, a small crystal core presented on the palms of his hands. “So, is that a yes?”

I couldn’t contain my smile. No matter how red my face was. A chorus of giggles rang through the night sky, and as Venti hovered over to my head to place the crystal core on my hair, I accepted his proposal.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact venti

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

12%

Part of Amelia’s 200 follower celebration!

Request: Angst prompt #47 with Spencer (why is it so hard for you to believe me?)

Word count: 1.5k (this got out of hand slightly)

Warnings: Mentions of schizophrenia, canon-typical violence, arguing. Can’t think of anything else! Loosely based off the events of 6x19, if you’re interested!

A/N: I am steadily working through the rest of the 200 follower celebration asks and should have them all up in the next 2 days! Thank you so much to everyone whose sent them, I’ve really enjoyed writing them :) (and feel free to send me more from the prompt list, i’m always open to them!)

i had a request for this same prompt with Emily so if you sent that ask: don’t worry! i have a different idea for it that i’m super excited to write !!!

The case was rough. Ben, the unsub who was suffering with hallucinations, had gone for Spencer’s neck with a knife. Spencer had been trying de-escalation tactics, reassuring Ben that if he put the knife down then everything would be fine. Unfortunately, it seemed he’d heard something else.

He'd lept towards Spencer, knife raised in his hand. You acted on instinct. The bullet left your gun, hitting Ben in the shoulder and knocking him down. Spencer was on him in an instant, pressing his hands over the wound.

“We need an ambulance!”

Hotch had told you you’d made the right choice. If you hadn’t taken the shot, he would have.

So why then, does it feel like you’ve done something so wrong?

Spencer doesn’t speak to you the whole ride back to the station. Hardly acknowledges you as you pack up your belongings, snatches the file you give him and shoves it into his satchel. The others pick up on it, of course, but daren’t say anything. As much as they enjoy lovingly sticking their nose into your business, they know to keep out of your fights.

He doesn’t sit near you on the jet. Instead, he takes a seat at the back, whispering to Morgan in hushed tones. You sit on the couch with Rossi, who does his best to involve you in the card game he’s teaching Seaver.

Once you’re back at the BAU, Spencer has to speak to you.

“Are you coming home with me?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“Are you actually planning on speaking to me anytime soon?”

“Once we’re home.”

His ominous tone stokes the anxiety in your chest. Nodding, you wipe your clammy palms on the side of your trousers. It doesn’t sound good. He’s never used that kind of tone with you before, no, you fight clean. None of your fights ever devolve into angry shouting, there’s such an emphasis on communication that you’re realising now that maybe anger on him doesn’t look the same as on everyone else. Anger on Spencer looks cold.

The car ride back is tense. You try to put some music on, just the radio, to alleviate some of the thick tension. Spencer switches it off immediately.

You squirm, a little uncomfortable in your seat. Feeling Spencer’s gaze on you, you wonder if he’ll say anything. Then he looks away again, pretending to spot something out of the window. Cold.

***

You’re hardly through the door, his satchel not even hung over the back of the dining room chair before the words are out of your mouth.

“Are you mad about Ben?”

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, _____, I’m mad about Ben.”

“Why?”

“You shot him.”

“He was going for your neck, I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I was trying to calm him down.”

“His hallucinations were clearly in control of that situation. Not you. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be able to see that.”

“I could have calmed him down.”

“No you couldn’t, Spencer! Just because you know how to deal with your mother doesn’t mean you know how to deal with every unsub we see who has hallucinations.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. They’re the only ones you’ve said that get a reaction from him though, his teeth sink into his lower lip and he shakes his head, as if amused. He’s clearly not.

“Don’t speak to me about my mom.”

“It’s relevant. Why the hell else would you have taken that case so personally? You were distracted by thinking about your mom and you were not thinking responsibly. You were acting recklessly because of your own personal vendetta. You put your gun down Spencer, you stepped towards him, you didn’t know if any of what you were doing was working. I’m not trying to undermine what you’re capable of, but you got too close today. You took a risk that I don’t think you’d have taken with any other unsub.”

“He’s not like the other unsubs,” He snaps, his voice full of venom.

“I’m not saying he is,” You say, “This wasn’t his fault. He’s sick and he needs help. I’m not blaming him. I’m criticising your judgement.”

“Yeah, you are criticising my judgement.”

You raise your eyebrows, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

"If it had been Morgan, or Hotch, or Rossi you would have thought about it before shooting. But no, because it’s me you thought I needed the protection.”

“So that’s what you think is it? I overstepped because I don’t have faith in you or your ability to protect yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Emily died a month ago, Spencer. A month ago, one of my best friends died on a case she ran off to handle alone. Forgive me for not wanting my boyfriend to be next,” You spit, throwing your coat over the back of the couch and storming towards the bedroom, “Forgive me for not wanting you to surrender your life to every unsub you feel sorry for.”

“What if it was me?” He asks, his voice breaking slightly, “What if that had been me?”

You turn around, throwing him a quizzical glance. His arms are folded defensively across his chest, gaze directed at the floor.

“What?”

“What if I was Ben? Would you have shot me?”

“Spencer what-”

“Schizophrenia is genetic. That could just as easily be me a year from now. I’ve been having those headaches that none of the doctors can figure out. This could be the start. So what if that had been me? Would you shoot me?”

“No,” You take a step towards him, hurt searing in your chest as he takes one back, “No, Spencer, of course I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You hurt him.”

“Spencer, I would never hurt you.”

“Right.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe me?”

“Because I just watched you shoot a guy who was sick! He was sick ____, he didn’t want to hurt anybody!”

“He killed four people Spencer! He had a knife to two kids throats when we came in! He tried to kill you! I’m not saying it was his fault but you can’t make out like he was innocent, or like he wasn’t a threat in that situation. He needed help. He was dangerous to himself and other people.”

“What if I was?”

“What?”

“That’s why it’s so hard to believe you,” His voice cracks, “What if I was a threat in that situation?”

“You said it yourself,” You say, stepping towards him again, “That there are a lot of different types of schizophrenia. Only around 12% of people who develop it actually commit any kind of violent crime.”

“Why do you know that?”

Your eyes lock, and a lump forms in your throat. Fuck.

“I looked up some things about schizophrenia.”

He curls into himself tighter, his knuckles white from how tightly they’re balled up under his armpits. The revelation seems to physically wound him. Realisation settling over his face that this was something you’d thought about. A possibility you’d considered. Somehow it makes him feel sick. The sturdy back of the front door is the only thing keeping him upright.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get it Spence,” You try, “You’re 29. It usually hits people in their early 20′s. You’re past the point of being able to get it.”

You know he knows all this. It’s useless information, but the silence is too much to bare, the hurt in his eyes is too much to bare. You open your mouth again to speak, to try to explain, to try to tell him that you’d only done it so you’d know how to help him if the time ever came. That all you wanted was to love and support him, that no matter what happened you’d always be there to get through it together. You’ve told him so many times before and somehow he still doesn’t seem to believe you.

“What if I was going to hurt Morgan?” His voice cuts through your thoughts.

“What?”

“You said you’d never shoot me. What about if I was going to hurt someone you cared about? What if it was Morgan?”

“I would never hurt you.”

“Obviously you don’t believe I can promise you the same.”

“Spencer it’s not like that.”

“You looked it up! You were researching the statistics! It’s obviously something that’s crossed your mind and we saw today that you protect the people you love from whatever you think is dangerous. And what’s dangerous could be me. You know that.”

The look on his face is heartbreaking. The fear in his eyes, the way his cheeks pull as he sucks on them, trying to keep in the tears. He’s so afraid of himself. So afraid of what he could become.

“Spencer I don’t believe you could ever be dangerous, I don’t know how you think I could ever think that, I-”

“Maybe I should go,” He says, cutting you off.

“Spencer.”

Before you can finish the thought, he’s yanking the door open, disappearing through it. You know better than to go after him while he’s like this, better than to disturb him when it’s clear he needs time. Sitting down on the couch, you fold your knees up against your chest. Waiting for him to come back so you can explain to him again how much you love him, how you could never be afraid, how you’re by his side through it all.

As the tears spill down your face, you start to wonder how many times you’ve had this exact same fight. How many times he’s refused to believe you. How he constantly pushes you away out of his own fear about himself. And then, as the sobs wrack your chest, you wonder: how many more times can I do this?

#spencer reid #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid angst #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfic

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfords-hysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad @bisexualdisaster106 @teacupfulofstarshine @neo-neo-neo @lollingtothemax

#sanders sides #ts sides #moceit #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #they're soft your honor

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Note

Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

“As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Snap out of it.

He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,” you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

If that watch don’t continue to swing—

A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

—or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

—I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

“Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

Text

[please blacklist spoiler tags: #loki tv series spoilers, #loki series spoilers, #loki spoilers]

I know I have missed a lot of people’s takes and reactions, there’s just - there’s so many. So I’m sorry if I’m inadvertantly repeating anyone or whatnot when I proceed to make my own posts.

Cut for length and spoilers.

Which is a segue into - I feel legitimately concerned, based on how many people are reading the TVA as being the moral authority and/or being on Loki’s side, and Mobius Dick’s interrogation being therapeutic for Loki (and how gross that is), along with an emphasis on ooc-ness for Loki and just overall cracks and fractures in the (what I thought was a) more or less solid episode -

I feel legitimately concerned that I may have wildly misinterpreted, like, everything, up to and including Loki’s characterization. And it’s actually kind of hilarious bc like -

Me: All opinions and interpretations are valid! No worries! Also I’m open-minded! Also I have no issue admitting I’m wrong!

Also me: *feels physically ill at the idea that my interpretation is so very wrong*

I’m not even lying, guys, my stomach is in knots. And I guess it’s because, like - I thought that it was pretty straightforward that the TVA are the antagonists here?? That Mobius isn’t Loki’s friend - he’s Loki’s interrogator and handler bc he needs Loki for his own purposes. That the “single sacred timeline” is not only nonsensical but also kinda fucked up (as Loki rightfully points out).

Like I’m watching these scenes and it doesn’t even occur to me to take the TVA’s word as the correct one here. Why would I? I’m taking Loki’s word as the correct one - Loki, the one who’s calling out everything that is stupid and ridiculous about the concept of the Timekeepers and the TVA, the one who is being scape-goated and is aware of it.

To touch on the ooc-ness of Loki - I mean, the first half of the episode was cringey and ooc, yeah; Loki was too over-the-top and the “comedic” tone didn’t quite land (I’m honestly wondering if Tom’s just not good at comedy? I mean, Betrayal was a genuinely funny play (and heartwrenching) but besides that, I can’t think of anything really comedic that he’s done.) but I’m willing to overlook that because when we got into the second half of the episode, he began to feel much more like the Loki I love.

Historically, Loki has consistently been the one to see the truth for what it really is and either saying or doing something about it. He actively tries to delay Thor’s coronation because he recognizes, when no one else does, that Thor is not ready to be king. He knows that Odin isn’t as righteous and wise as he pretends to be (and, in fact, he knows that Odin is guilty of more than Loki could ever be, and he calls that out too). He sees SHIELD as the farce it is (and possibly knows Hydra has infiltrated it; I headcanon that he knew but just didn’t care bc why would he?), and he sees Earth and the humans in a much more accurate light than Thor could hope to. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers; the humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. Etc. Here, it’s the clowns are playing their parts to perfection (that’s the only quote I can remember right now).

And I mean, yeah, the narrative has never acknowledged that Loki is right about everything. It’s a huge source of frustration for me bc the narrative continues to be so black-and-white about heroes and villains and, being villain-coded, Loki doesn’t get to be validated no matter how right he is.

But I don’t think that’s the case here. I think, as the protagonist, his word holds a bit more weight. It should, at least, and I personally didn’t see anything that made me think that we shouldn’t consider Loki the authoritative voice in all of this. Loki, not the TVA.

Mobius’s interrogation? Was very clearly cruel and fucked up, to me. The sham of a fake ass trial that Loki had to endure, with the implication being that no one who stands trial is actually getting a fair trial bc the TVA has no intention of judging anyone not guilty? Fucked up, with horrifying implications. The process of deleting people from existence being literally as detached and soulless as a trip to the DMV (complete with tickets!)? Very disturbing. Like, none of these things are the traits that I would look at and say, hmm, yeah, these guys seem legit and totally correct about everything, too bad for Loki.

And Loki’s reactions to Mobius - his frustration, his defiance, and his eventual emotional breakdown (which we only saw when Loki was completely alone) all felt accurate to me. Again, there were a lot of over the top aspects of Tom’s performance here but I think what makes me more willing to overlook them is that, in general, we’re getting a more animated Loki than we’ve gotten to see him before, in a way that feels true to him as opposed to whatever was going on with him in Ragnarok.

He’s not in the middle of a mental breakdown/identity crisis. He’s not being mind-controlled anymore (or influenced). He’s not being villain-coded while Thor is propped up as the hero and the ideal which, to me, means that we are actually getting to see Loki’s personality when all of that is taken away and the only thing he’s got left is himself. It’s a really shitty situation and I hate that he’s in it, but after the initial exaggerated reactions, his response to it worked for me.

So - yeah. And now I’m like, biting my nails and my stomach is in knots bc I thought I knew Loki and I had a comfortable idea of Loki, and I thought I was more or less decent at interpreting things - but, so, clearly there were things happening and being picked up on that just whooshed right over my head bc it never occurred to me to be on the lookout for them in the first place. Does that make sense? I don’t even know what I’m saying.

Just - I am really, really doubting my own perception of what this series is attempting to do with Loki and it does not feel good at all. So I guess ultimately I am not capable of putting my money where my mouth is and treating all interpretations as valid, when it comes to myself. (I didn’t realize I was that far up my own ass so as to speak confidently about validity while telling myself that my idea is pretty correct.) Soo there we are.

Idk if I even want to post this but it’s time for me to clock out now so, for better or for worse, *hits post button*

#sorry this is rambly and i need to make it clear i am in no way #taking issue with anyone else's takes or opinions or feelings #i am more or less just saying that i'm doubting *my* takes and opinions and feelings #and i don't like how it feels #that's all #please don't @ me #loki tv series spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki series meta

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tomakeitbeautifultolive · 3 years

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Something I've been wondering about: If Jon comes back as a fire wight like Beric Dondarrion and unCat, will he be able to get it up? Blood won't really be flowing in his body anymore, so would his dick be powered by fire magic or something like that?

I, too, have spent a great deal of time pondering Jon Snow’s dick, Anon. 😏 Jokes aside, I will admit right off the bat that most of what I have to offer is total speculation, but over-thinking the most minor details of ASOIAF happens to be my favorite pastime, so let’s go!

Like pretty much everyone who read the quote, I was totally thrown off by the “fire wight” revelation. Here’s the quote for reference:

“..poor Beric Dondarrion, who was set up as the foreshadowing of all this, every time he’s a little less Beric. His memories are fading, he’s got all these scars, he’s becoming more and more physically hideous, because he’s not a living human being anymore. His heart isn’t beating, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, he’s a wight, but a wight animated by fire instead of by ice.”

So, an important distinction to make here is that this quote is about Beric Dondarrion specifically, not Jon Snow.

The condition of Jon Snow’s corpse might matter

George can be very clever with how he words things. Note that he goes into Beric’s deaths, describing multiple resurrections and how he’s falling apart before stating that his heart is no longer beating. It could be that a fresh “fire wight” might still possess bodily functions—at least at first. Catelyn, too, was a very sorry looking corpse by the time she was reanimated, therefore not a great comparison, either. Especially since it’s Beric rather than Thoros who, with very little life force to lend, resurrects her.

If nothing else, Jon will be “fresh”, and his location at the Wall means the low temperatures will help preserve his body even if the resurrection takes some time.

And speaking of the Wall… there happens to be a special lady there who could help Jon, and whose powers happen to be amplified by the magic of the Wall...

Melisandre is profoundly more powerful than Thoros of Myr

Thoros may be a red priest, but otherwise he seems to be a pretty normal human man. We get a clue about when he converted from Jaime:

“Jaime had once heard Thoros tell the king that he became a red priest because the robes hid the winestains so well.”

Relatively recently, one might guess, as most children aren’t yet drunks. Further, he was never very dedicated to his faith, even questioning it at times.

Melisandre, on the other hand...

“Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.”

While we don’t know much about her, this confirms that she spent countless years studying her craft, and no one in her order can match her skill. And no one believes in their faith more than Melisandre. Like in the television series, it’s a safe bet that she’s actually much older than the natural human lifespan, particularly if she managed to lose count of how many years she’s studied magic.

If Melisandre is the one to resurrect Jon Snow, she might not use a ‘last kiss’ method at all, or, if she does, it could be more powerful than anything Thoros is capable of.

Unlike Beric, Jon Snow is probably the prophesied prince

Speaking of Melisandre’s ability to glimpse secrets in the flames… there’s someone she sure seems to see a lot of:

“I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow.”

“Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.”

“The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange.”

I know. There is some contention about who the Prince that was Promised is. Regardless of whether you agree that it’s Jon Snow, you’ve got to admit that Melisandre is seeing him in the flames for a reason. And if he’s not the prophesied prince, then perhaps his blood has something to do with it. It’s likely that, for some reason, the combination of Targaryen and Stark blood matters. At least, Rhaegar Targaryen seemed pretty convinced...

Whatever Jon Snow’s business is in Westeros… it’s unfinished. And part of that unfinished business might just involve becoming a father.

The emphasis put on Jon fathering a child is notable

Let’s go back to Jon’s first chapter ever. It opens with Jon at Robert’s feast, the author uses Jon’s eyes to describe the setting and multiple characters. And then enters Benjen Stark. This is when we really get to know Jon. When you read this passage, really consider the author’s intent here:

"You don't know what you're asking, Jon. The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor."

"A bastard can have honor too," Jon said. "I am ready to swear your oath."

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."

Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom.

Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes.

This is how George R.R. Martin chooses to introduce us to Jon Snow. And gods, that always hits me right in the gut. It’s absolutely supposed to. Jon’s trembling, venomous anger is palpable. You feel the deep hurt and resentment in his words, right down to his core. Jon says he doesn’t care—but the bite in his words and the tears welling in his eyes tell us otherwise.

Jon Snow easily embraces his vow of celibacy. At first. And then comes Ygritte. And after getting his first taste of love and later flirting with the idea of becoming a lord when it’s offered to him by Stannis, Jon Snow begins to imagine what it might be like to have a wife...

“I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall.”

And look what happens the moment he does dare to dream of it...

“I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade.”

And the feeling transitions into an almost tangible hunger felt by his wolf, Ghost.

Speaking of Ghost…

Grab your tinfoil! ‘Cause Jon’s life might’ve already been ‘paid for’ ...By Daenerys

First… in case you didn’t know, Daenerys is probably a skinchanger:

“The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.”

Basically, it goes like this:

As Daenerys wanders the Dothraki Sea in search of food after being whisked away by Drogon, she hears a wolf’s howl.

“Will (Ghost) howl for me when I'm dead, as Bran's wolf howled when he fell?”

Feeling lonely yet no less hungry, she eats some strange green berries. Her stomach begins to cramp.

“My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.”

Unfortunately, Daenerys then experiences some horrible diarrhea. Poor girl! I don’t bring it up to be crass, but because this purge bears striking resemblance to an earthly drug called Ayahuasca—a substance that, aside from emptying your bowels, is often used as a means to ‘open your third eye’ (Just as Bran does in the crypts, and he can finally reach Jon and Ghost…)

Dany falls asleep and begins experiencing trippy dreams about her brother—perhaps even achieving contact with the other side? Then...

“When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood.”

Assuming it’s nothing more than her period, Dany begins to wonder the last time she bled—hinting that it might’ve been a little while.

“The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it's only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow.”

Maybe a bit of a stretch, I know. But… this wretched and graphic scene of Dany’s loose bowels really made me wonder what in seven hells George was thinking. I was so embarrassed for Dany that I HAD to figure out why he’d do this to her.

And my best guess is that she’s using these latent skinchanging abilities to tap into this strange connection with the “blue rose” over at the Wall of Westeros and the silent wolf who finally howled for help upon his death… And so, Dany’s miscarriage may be the death that will pay for Jon’s life.

I might’ve found some more evidence to back this claim up, this is very new ‘evidence’, so bear with me:

“Fire”, in the world of ASOIAF, often translates to “life”. As is seen here in Sam’s speech following Aemon’s death (thanks, bridge4!):

“He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out.”

Further, according to the wiki:

“When a follower of the Lord of Light dies, priests fill their mouths with fire and breathe flame into the deceased”

In the House of the Undying, Dany receives a series of chilling prophecies, one of which happens to be about fires:

“Three fires you must light, one for life, one for death and one to love”

I know, I know. Drogo’s pyre, the Khals, etc etc. But George might be playing with double meanings here… So, if we think of fires as conceptions, this could maybe mean:

One in exchange FOR the Dragon’s lives (Life)

One in exchange FOR Jon’s resurrection (Death)

One conceived (likely with Jon) and carried to term (TO love)

Food for thought! Especially considering that, like Jon, Dany possesses the blood of Old Valyria, and these sacrifices are probably all the more powerful as a result. But even if I’m dead wrong about that prophecy, well, fire still broadly means life, which bodes well for our brooding ‘bastard’, who might just end up as a “fire wight”.

Hopefully something in this drivel has given any Jon fans reading this a little bit of faith that, despite the slight setback of death, Jon will still be able to exercise his, uh, virility when he finally meets Dany. 😅 Thanks for the ask!!

#answered #jon snow #fire wight #resurrection #jonerys #asoiaf theories #asoiaf speculation #my theories #loving the asks since I can't do much else while recovering #keep 'em coming if you got 'em!

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