Part 2 of Love stabbing Ghost! Soap to the rescue.

You're at a house, it's right in the middle of a place it probably shouldn't be. Arched door and gabled roof sandwiched between two very modern and tall looking buildings. Simon knocks on it twice and waits. There's a very loud noise from inside and then a lot more loud noise before the door is yanked open. There's a man, just about Simon's height, with a Mohawk and a smile leaning against the doorframe. He looks happy to see your boyfriend.

"Ghost," he glances down at the unattended stab wound in Simon's stomach, "I see you're doing well."

"You're hilarious," Simon says, pushing past him and into the home. You don't move. Something is... stopping you. The other man smiles at you, waiting. Simon turns to look for you over his shoulder and stops. "Soap," Simon warns, but it's something else too, questioning.

Soap cocks his head at you, you've never seen a man that looks like him before. Too human. Like everything human about him has been cranked up to 11. He's not blocking you from entering the house, but he hasn't invited you in either. It would be rude to-

"She can't cross the threshold," Soap grins, his smile so wide you think you could count all his teeth. You vibrate just on the edge of something, you can feel it like a second door preventing you from crossing into his home. He nods his head at you finally, "Alright, come in. Can't have you attracting attention."

The door opens and you slide past him. Simon grabs you quickly, tipping your head this way and that to study you. He looks so concerned that you don't put up a fight. Soap ignores both of you, walking past to rummage around in his kitchen. You look around as Simon looks at you. It's a cute place, comfortable, you'd almost call it cozy. 

"How many tethers you got in her?" Soap calls, setting a white medical kit on the coffee table.

"Enough," Simon tells him, finally releasing your face. You wish he'd at least kiss you if he was going to hold onto you for so long. You must pout because he leans down to do just that, soft and sweet as he presses his lips to yours.

"Yer aff yer heid," Soap pats the couch and Simon releases you again. He strips his shirt off and sits where Soap directed with a grunt. Soap pokes at the skin around the wound and you lean over the back of the couch to want. “How’d you do this, lass?”

“Knife.” You tell him plainly. Soap snorts, Simon sighs, shooting you a warning look. “He asked me to, said ‘I want you to stab me’. So I stabbed him.” Soap gives Simon a look of concern.

“Mate your kinks are really gettin’ out of hand.”

“Didn’t think she’d do it.” Simon replies gruffly, you see him wince when Soap presses too hard too close to the edge of the wound, “Was trying to teach her about us.”

“You barely know about us.” Soap hums, grabbing a needle and thread from the med kit. You settle a hand on Simon’s shoulder as Soap starts stitching him up, squeezing to try and take some of his attention from the pain. You’re starting to get phantom pains just watching him, you can’t imagine how Simon’s so stoic about it.

“What’s your name lass?” Soap asks, and you frown.

“How’s that any of your business?” You reply, trying to memorize the way he twists sutures and snips the thread. Next time you stab Simon you should at least know how to stitch him up. Simon gives a small purr, aborted immediately when Soap pulls the last stitch tight.

“Christ you are a fucking mess, you know that?” Soap’s not talking to you, he’s talking to Simon. Looking him over, plucking at invisible threads with a frown. “How’d you-” He pulls on something and you smack his hand without thinking. Soap looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. He stands from the couch and stares the two of you down. “Simon Riley,” He says with purpose.

Simon doesn’t move, just raises a brow. Soap makes a ‘come on’ gesture and groans.

“You are fuckin’ jokin’.” He presses his hands to his face before dropping them and pointing at Simon. You’re starting to like this guy. Or maybe that’s Simon’s pleased hum through the tethers. “You-” He groans again, “I can’t believe you. Best mates for years and you don’t even- Price is going to kill you.”

“What’s happening?” You whisper ask Simon. Soap turns his annoyance on you.

“What’s happening, is you own this bastard and he didn’t even send out a wedding invite.”

“I didn’t think she’d give me her name,” Simon starts. Soap holds up a hand to cut him off.

“You are on probation, I’m not listening to you anymore, don’t talk to me.” You bite down a smile, you definitely like this guy.

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 6x19 The Black Fairy

Peter Pan! So weird to think they were married but I mean they’re both kinda obsessed with collecting children that aren’t their son which is a weird coincidence.

Aww baby Rumple!

Malcolm looks so happy to have a baby. It seems it was the loss of Fiona that made him resent Rumple. Perhaps he could have been a father with her support but he just couldn’t handle being a single father. 

I wish we got to know more about fairy lore

Rumple was born in winter. He’s totally a Capricorn!

Aren’t Saviors meant to save realms from dark curses? But the dark curse wasn’t created yet. Maybe they retconned it and they’re just meant to save people.

That dragon egg is awfully convenient. What happened to the characters going on quests to find things like this? It’s too easy to wake Blue up.

Snow straight up strangling the Blue Fairy. I know it’s not her but I think Snow deserves that opportunity. 

Quick thinking Rumple with that cuff! 

Why does Emma have to have sleepy time too?

Is the shack Rumple was born in the same place he and Milah lived in? Probably not.

Yep. Really shouldn’t have given her that book of prophecies. What did they expect? Fiona to be overjoyed her son would die at the hands of a great evil?

Wait. It’s not possible for someone to turn themselves into a fairy? There must be something about Fiona. There’s something about that family, I swear. It seems they were all destined for great power and great evil.

Regina teaching Zelena to drive is the best thing ever but she totally could have escaped with Henry on her broom if things went wrong. If people in New York saw her and Henry flying high defying gravity they’d just think it was promo for Broadway’s Wicked.

Lmao! Omg Zelena! This scene is glorious!

Oh yeah, baby Robin could fit on the broom too. They’d make it work!

Regina: “I trust him to raise you.” Lol. So true but now I need all the fics with Henry raising his little cousin and Auntie in New York. 

The Black Fairy is so freaking creepy singing a lullaby to Blue.

The hatred emanating from the Black Fairy for Blue gives me shivers. 

And then she’s like “I’m so happy we get a chance to play,” and sits down like a child. Chills, I tell you! Like, Blue has completely destroyed who she used to be.

What was she going to do to the child if she’d found one with the crescent mark? 

Aww. Rumple breaking down and saying “I would do anything for you, son.” This man freaking loves his children. 

How did they end up in Rumple’s dream when Gideon was the first to be sprinkled with the night night sand?

Hook: “How do we know you are actually you.” Regina: “Because it’s me!” Sounds legit.

Aww, Hook just called Regina “love”. Are they getting along again, now? I saw a meta the other day that noted how Regina only started to dislike Hook when he got serious with Emma and I’m pretty sure that’s true. Interesting!

I wanted to see a proper witch fight dammit! For a show with so many sorcerers, we deserved more magical duels.

But omg Zelena suddenly running the Black Fairy over and her flipping over the car is the best thing in existence! 

Aww the sisters’ little smiles to each other. 

The sacred vault of the fairies? Are they, like, religious? 

This poor woman. I feel so sorry for her. She’s just desperately and feverishly trying to protect her baby. What did they expect from her? Most mothers would go to those lengths if they were told their child would suffer such a horrible fate. That would bring anyone to the end of their tether.

Omg wtf. “He’s destined to die so that other children may live.” That is a beyond cruel thing to say to the face of a mother. What the hell? Omg the pain on Fiona’s face. No child should be sacrificed for another. How heartless of the fairies.

So did Emma replace Rumple as the EF’s Savior or can their be multiple Saviors? 

Agggh this is so horrific. Poor Fiona finding out she is destined to kill her own child. She’s devastated. 

Oh, did she get the crescent scar when she was disarmed? 

Oh cool, the Black Fairy can project memories! That’s quite a unique power.

Blue could have saved a lot of people by remotely teleporting their hearts into her hands from the EQ’s or Cora’s and yet she didn’t.

She has a point. Even if she severed her destiny so she wouldn’t be the one to kill him, he could still be in danger from some other threat.

Blue, what the hell! Summoning a portal was absolutely uncalled for. What because she dared to upset you as you were so desperate for him to become the Savior for some reason? Probably part of her long-game evil plan. So what if he didn’t become a Savior?! Blue’s going on like that was the worst crime. She was just trying to protect him and you separated a doting mother who was no longer a danger to him from her child! You had no right! She is so self-righteous, I swear to god. It’s nothing to do with her. Who does she think she is?! Blue has ruined so many lives and gotten away with it because she believes she’s all high and mighty. She’s just as much of a villain as any other on this show. It makes me so mad. Poor Fiona. No wonder she hates Blue. 

Fiona: “I promise you son, I will spend every moment of every day trying to find my way back to you!”

I think she let Rumple hate her because it was too painful and she didn’t think she deserved his love. 

There are a lot of parallels between Rumple and his mother’s stories. They are much alike. 

Malcolm genuinely loved Fiona. He said she was the love of his life. Gosh I needed backstory with those two! After her he felt the only way he could be happy again was to return to childhood and Neverland so he didn’t have to think about Fiona. It was too painful. Easier to pretend he’d never loved. 

Malcolm must have lied to Rumple and told him his mother had abandoned him.

The fairies imply Fiona is dead to cover their own asses. They won’t say they banished her because they damn well know he’d fight them to get the love of his life back.

Lol. Sorry but calling your child Rumplestiltskin just to spite him is hilarious. What does it mean? Oh! It means “Little Rattle Stilt.” I mean it could have been worse it could have been “Little Sh*thead.” 

Also the Fairies hearing him blame the baby for his wife’s death should have rung alarm bells. They should have put him in a home where he’d be loved and cared for. Nope, just leave him with this guy who hates him.

Eww. They put a heart on the dinner table.

Giddy Up’s got his heart back! Yehaaaw!

“A seafaring man does not take superstitions likely.” So he is superstitious! He allowed a woman on his ship for years so maybe superstitions are different in the EF.

Oh my God, next week’s the musical episode!!!! I can’t wait!!!!

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ 

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! 

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day. 

 –“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously. 

 –“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display. 

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent. 

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of  mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed. 

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.” 

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further. 

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.” 

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol​) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡   

On what #bringelsahome COULD BE vs. what it has become...

Sometimes, I become sad because one of the first things I wrote after viewing Frozen 2 was a short ficlet repudiating Elsa’s line in Show Yourself as she was approaching Ahtohallan that “I’m arriving / and it feels like I am home.” You can read that ficlet here if you want to.

In that ficlet, I was expressing frustration with the fact that Show Yourself was connecting the concept of “home” with Ahtohallan and connections found through memory and the past instead of the living, breathing connections that can be found in life. In that ficlet, I was also disputing the film’s concept of change because, as I wrote, “Home is not a lineage, a source, a gift. Gifts are given. Home, you make for yourself. Each step, a step forward. Not into the cold ancestral wonder of Ahtohallan, but into the warmth of the future. Holding tight to those she loved was not the absence of change. It was change itself, each day carving out a new shape, a new bejeweled crystal more fabulous than any on the glacier.” And I ended that ficlet repudiating Ahtohallan and having Elsa turn back to the home she has made in Arendelle with Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven. It was a ficlet born deeply out of my love of this image:

Now, the scary thing for me now is that there are parallels between my sentiments then and the... what do I call it? aggressive stance?... to #bringelsahome, which is rather unpleasant for me because that aggressive stance has become an excuse for racism and toxicity which I absolutely do not want to be associated with.

 But I’ve been thinking about something that @themountainsays mused about, and that @hb-pickle​ added to, asking what the ultimate goal of #bringelsahome actually is - because if the most hostile people actually wanted to change people’s minds or reach the creators, all they’ve managed to do is burn bridges and undermine their own cause.

I mean, look at me, when it comes to them burning bridges. I have conflicting feelings about F2′s ending and I’ve offered critiques of it - but the loudest members of #bringelsahome won’t look at those critiques because I openly reject the racism and toxicity that they push forward. 

But at the same time, there’s also a part of me that... understands where the basic sentiment to “bringelsahome” comes from and that’s gotten me to thinking about what #bringelsahome could be vs. what it has become.

I have friends who remain devastated by the ending of Frozen 2, and most of these friends have largely left the Frozen fandom either because they simply want to move on to other pastures or, even though they dislike Frozen 2, they’d rather not have any association with BEH - which... can you blame them?

But the pain of these friends, a pain they do not express in a toxic way, speaks to what #bringelsahome could be if it wasn’t rotted to the core by this point by racist rhetoric and aggression.

That pain actually emerges from a deep connection to Elsa and a valuing of Elsa’s connections to other people. These friends I’ve spoken with often reference a deep anguish that Elsa’s journey in Frozen 2 is structured so that she sheds traveling companions across the whole adventure - leaving Kristoff behind, leaving Anna and Olaf behind, going it alone when there is strength in working together and shorts like Frozen Fever and OFA highlight how when this found family works together, it has a positive impact on Elsa.

They wanted to see Elsa trusting Anna’s judgment, not pushing Anna and Olaf away in the ice boat, not falling into the same mistakes she did in the past... and their pain was heightened by the fact that, when Elsa seemed to fall back into those same mistakes, the film never really circled back to that or addressed it again... even when the film went out of its way to point out that Anna and even Olaf was angry. 

And... yes, it’s valid to say that Olaf - the most innocent and childlike character - becoming angry feels like a turning point of some kind... which then goes nowhere and that the film does nothing with. That’s a valid criticism of something that feels disjointed and off about F2.

And... I’d even argue that it’s valid to say that Elsa feels off at times over the course of Frozen 2 - and I’d put that down to, well, Elsa being “too much” for Disney. She means too many things for too many people. Her basic metaphor resonated with countless people - more than Disney ever imagined - and now they have to preserve that popularity, but the writers are trapped within the incredibly restrictive Disney system. They can’t make Elsa openly gay because the Mouse loves making money and making money means appealing to the broadest crowd, including the homophobes. And they want to keep Elsa broadly relatable so they try to lean into he concept of “magic” as an aspect of Elsa’s difference and also “explaining” that magic because certain people wanted an “explanation” for Elsa. 

But the problem with that vague (and therefore, in the film’s hope, broadly relatable) magic metaphor is that it’s vague and, unlike the previous movie, not really tethered to Elsa’s connections with people. The first movie, while it still used the metaphor of “magic as difference” grounded that metaphor in Elsa’s interactions with her sister, with the people of Arendelle, with how other human beings interact with her and the deeply human aspect of Elsa’s love for those other human beings. Frozen 2, in contrast, could have that... but it doesn’t.

I’ve argued several times over that Elsa’s arc in F2 would be stronger if the filmmakers had deeply enriched Elsa’s connection with the Northuldra, gave us more scenes of her bonding with her mother’s people, more scenes that expanded the Northuldra characters’ development. Maybe even start the film out with the deleted prologue focused on Iduna so we get the Northuldra’s perspective right fom the start and we can connect Iduna’s pain with Elsa’s own feeling of otherness.

Frozen 2... only gives a few brief scenes of Elsa with the Northuldra and has her shed members of her found family across the film... so F2 loses a human element that he first film never lost sight of. The “magic-as-difference” metaphor has to work more as metaphor, without the same human emotional grounding as the first film.

And because we don’t get those scenes with Elsa and the Northuldra and the film chooses to have Elsa leave behind members of her found family, I can understand why people would feel Elsa feels off in F2.

Because the film seems to care more about Elsa’s connection to magic than her humanity. That’s why there are several incidences of Elsa bonding with the spirits - and far less of her bonding with Northuldra characters.

This actually speaks to a legitimate, valid critique of the film - and people could use it to point out flaws in the film. Moreover, a critique like this could even be antiracist because it would be advocating for the expansion of the role of the Northuldra and more scenes of Elsa bonding with and learning about her mother’s people.

Critique actually has an important place within fandom - and critique can actually benefit the filmmakers if it is valid and valuable critique. Asking, “Why does F2 seem to care more about Elsa’s magic than her humanity and how does that undermine her arc?” is actually a valuable question. If the filmmakers reflected on it, then in a potential Frozen 3, they could make sure to reject the negative implications of distancing Elsa’s humanity. They could pause to think, “Oh, we didn’t INTEND to suggest this, maybe, but our second film did kind of give those implications, so let’s avoid those implications next time.” By EXPANDING the Northuldra characters. By reinforcing Elsa legitimately working together with her found family instead of feeling she has to go on alone.

That’s what bringelsahome could be - a movement to point out flaws in the film and a better way forward for the betterment of future projects.

Unfortunately, that’s not what it is - since the racism of certain people at its forefront has corroded it from the inside.

But I still find that tragic, because... it could have actually been something valuable. And there are aspects to it that still could be something valuable. And I still know many people out there with legitimate critiques who can’t voice their feelings about F2 because they disagree with Isa’s racism, so it doesn’t matter to Isa if they dislike F2; in her eyes, you’re either with her or against her...

Hello 👋🏼, sorry if I’m bothering u but ever since the recent chapters of BNHA I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Todoroki family. Not many of my friends are into this anime and I just couldn’t stop myself from sharing this with you because I need to let this out.

[SPOILER ALERT 🚨!!! IF U DONT READ THE MANGA THEN U CAN JUST IGNORE THIS]

First of all:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

(I’m still screaming as I write because the backstories RUINED me.)

Poor Touya having this horrible obsession over heroics and having his father acknowledge him but ever since his quirk started reacting against his body the whole family got negatively affected by it.

Rei and Enji wanted to stop at two kids but with Touya’s sudden disadvantage and the latter’s craving for power, Natsuo and later on Shouto was born (the youngest getting titled as the perfect heir from the moment he was born). I got torn seeing Touya’s eyes succumb to absolute madness at the birth of his younger brothers.

What scared me the most was how when it was just Touya and Fuyumi, the two hardly interacted despite being only a year apart in age. Touya claimed that ‘girls just don’t get it’ this small foreshadowing was later brought to light in the most recent chapter where he once again rejects Fuyumi’s company in favour of ranting to only Natsuo and where he disregards his own mother— another ‘girl’ that doesn’t understand his obsession passion for surpassing All Might and someone who plays along to the acts of those stronger than them. Touya saw his mother as a weak person who had no choice but to marry for the sake of her family and have custom children. Little Touya firmly believed his very existence depended on getting acknowledged my his father and defeating All Might but it sadly didn’t come true😭😭

Also..... LOOK AT THE BABIES!!!! They’re all so CUTE!!!

Chubby Fuyumi!!!

Natsuo with a running nose

And Baby Shouto with a meme like face since the day he was born🤣🤣🤣🤣

So ADORABLE!

And another thing. FUYUMI WAS EVEN YOUNGER THAN I THOUGHT TO HAVE STARTED ACTING LIKE A SECOND MOTHER TO HER BROTHERS!! Look at the way she defended Natsuo when Touya went on a rampage and tried to attack Touya! And during moments when Enji and Rei fought the two most notable heroes were Shouto and Fuyumi; the former fighting on the frontlines to face his father while the latter stood behind to once again care for her remaining family that though weren’t involved in the fight, they still needed emotional support to get through it.😭

I AM SO SORRY TO BE GETTING TO THIS SO LATE ANON BUT I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!!

TW: Spoilers, Brief Mention of Child Abuse (Physical, Emotional and Mental), General Fandom Wank

So, like, SO MUCH HAPPENED in those chapters and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ALMOST ALL OF IT! There’s obviously all the things you mentioned above that were just amazing to see and learn! I know that a majority of the fandom has been absolutely livid about the reveals involving Touya being drastically different than what fandom thought they were all this time, but I think it honestly highlights how smart Horikoshi’s writing really is.

In Shoto, we see the effects of physical and mental abuse on a child, and how easily he could have ended up going down a troubling road much like Touya. Shoto’s saving grace is facing off against Deku in the Sports Festival, giving him an outside perspective and makes him realize that he can choose to be better, but that doesn’t just magically fix all of Shoto’s problems. Shoto still struggles with his feelings towards his Father and how he is perceived by simply being Endeavor’s son. We see that in the Provisional License Arc, where Shoto is so thoroughly rattled by Inasa. It’s even further pushed through how Shoto struggles with his feelings about Endeavor trying to better and whether or not he should forgive him. I feel like Shoto’s arc is incredibly strong and that his struggles are very realistic, which is why people love him so much. This whole concept is another thing I could rant about but I’m going to leave it here.

Meanwhile, with Touya, we see the effects of mental and emotional abuse on a child and how it can completely destroy them. I think people that act like Horokoshi “down played” and “ret-conned” Endeavor as a character to make him more sympathetic/ redeemable or that he’s simply writing Touya as “always being a bad seed” are missing the mark. This is, admittedly, something you see a lot when it comes to victims of abuse in the real world as well; the idea that if you weren’t physically or sexually abused on top of emotional or mental abuse, your abuse is somehow less “valid.” Now I’ve seen more voices speaking out against this mentality - which is relieving and positive - but it’s still a problem. The way Touya was abused is no less valid or scarring to himself as a person as what Shoto has been through was. Touya and Enji clearly had a deep bond as father and son. Hell, the fact that Enji is sobbing and saying he “can’t fight his own son” in regards to Touya, but clearly had less issue training Shoto until he got ill or passed out says a lot.

Touya was put on an incredibly high pedestal by Enji’s constant praise and attention. He was the apple of his father’s eye until the limitations of his Quirk were discovered. Enji had filled his head with promises and goals for what his future would be, essentially selling him what turned out to be a lie. We see Rei herself tell Enji that Touya “knows you expect something out of the kids.” Touya’s whole life up until that point was being told of all the great he would someday accomplish, and equating that to being deserving of his Father’s love, attention and affection.

And then he couldn’t live up to that expectation. And then his parents had two more kids following that revelation. The idea that Touya doesn’t realize that Natsuo and Shoto were meant to be his replacements - unbroken models that “deserved” Enji’s love - is clearly not missed by him. It’s evident in the way he looks at Natsuo after he’s born. He sees this as a sign that he is no longer deserving - no longer worthy - of love or support from the parent he absolutely adores.

We see this mostly from Enji and Rei’s perspectives, so we know the reasons they did it, but it’s clear they didn’t stop to think about the way this would be interpreted by Touya himself. This whole matter is only worsened by the fact that Enji refuses to make sacrifices for the sake of his oldest son. He pushes Touya to live a life outside of Pro Heroics while Enji himself refuses to do the same, thus setting a positive example and showing solidarity with his son. He instead pushes him away and distances himself, loses himself in focusing on Natuso and, once his Quirk turns out to not be what he wants, Shoto. Touya continues to push himself despite his limits in a desperate bid for Enji to look at him the way he used to; with pride and love. 

What caused the fire that “killed” Touya? His anguish over being neglected and abandoned - left unloved - by his father yet again. It’s clear that Touya’s mental health is in need of some real focus that he has never gotten - due to both his parents negligence as well as the fact that mental health is highly stigmatized in Japanese society - and pairing that with the emotional and mental abuse he suffered at Enji’s hands broke him.

So many people are claiming Horikoshi is trying to make Enji “more redeemable”, but how do you get that? Enji abused Rei, his own wife, physically and emotionally and mentally until she had a psychotic breakdown, hurt their youngest child, and then robbed her the right to mother her children further by having her locked up in a psych ward for the next decade or so; built their oldest son, Touya, up only to then emotionally and mentally abuse him to the point he damn near killed himself in a frantic bid to garner Enji’s support only to return years later completely unhinged and looking to murder his entire family out of spite; neglected Fuyumi and Natsuo to the care of each other and hired help; alienated Shoto, his youngest son, from his siblings for his entire formative years, physically and mentally and emotionally abused him, groomed him to accomplish a task he never wanted, put him through such extensive physical training that Shoto would get sick or pass out.

Enji was a shitty father. He has a long ass road to continue walking if he ever wants redemption. The fact he didn't physically hit Touya doesn’t mean that Enji didn’t abuse his son and it doesn’t make Touya any less of a victim.

* End TodoFam Rant*

On a slightly lighter note, I also like all the information with Hawks’ past and all the parallels we’re seeing develop!

I’ve rambled briefly about this in other places the Huwumi discord but I want to expound upon this a bit more here.

I feel like Touya/ Dabi and Keigo/ Hawks are meant to be parallels to one another.

Back to back, we had proper name claims by these two characters. We had Dabi reveal his true identity as Todoroki Touya and then we have Hawks choosing to abandon his hero name to instead step up to fight as Takami Keigo.

I feel like “Dabi” was always a mask, of sorts. Dabi is typically pretty calm, cool, composed with the occasional bites of snark and cruelty. Meanwhile, we see Touya emoting and moving in a manner more akin to himself as a child, dancing about in manic delight over revealing his true identity and intentions. The pair of them are two drastically different people when you stop and look at it. “Dabi” was the mask he wore to gain ground to enact his revenge, and now that he is there? Now Touya can burn everything tethered to it down to ground.

Meanwhile, we have "Hawks” as he was forced to become as per the Hero Public Safety Commission. We had it revealed quite a while back that Hawks was a man of many faces, jumping from laid-back and chill to serious and focused quite frequently. “Hawks” is the presentation for the public and the Commission, groomed to be the perfect little canary in the mine that was Pro Heroics. The reveal of his true heritage, however, is not the killing blow Touya wanted it to be. Instead, it allows Keigo, the one who wanted to be a Hero to help people, the chance to truly dedicate himself to that. In being freed from the cage of “Hawks”, he is given the change to really soar as Keigo.

Now, I feel that “Dabi” and “Hawks” are most certainly parts of Touya and Keigo as well, respectively. Even though those titles were masks, they were masks made from parts of the men who wear them. I think what we’ll see going forward is the true elements of those masks bleeding back into the whole, and seeing the truest forms of each character.

For better or for worse. 

Infinity War (7)

CHAPTER 7: GHOSTS

Loki & The Avengers

Summary: A work inspired by @queencfthestarsdrfoster ‘s post of the universe where Loki is alive and Thor is avenged.

Series: Will contain all- and more- that we saw in Infinity War. Will not contain smut and fluff for obvious reasons. Might contain weird humor though.

Chapter content: time to face the truth

Warnings: talk about the past

Word count: these weird dreams are getting weirder by the day

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

"Why is he looking at me like that?" "You could have gotten a much better look if this one put in a little effort in the...aesthetic part of his armour suits. And face" Vision feels his head jerk back while he narrows his eyes at the new person standing in the room as if he owns it; him and Tony Stark. There is not even a flutter in Loki's emotions when he makes that comment but the young scientist who is analysing the internal nodal connections inside Vision is having a gala time as she watches this go down. "I am not even going to acknowledge that with a comment," Tony states as he tries he best to stand still while the Wakandan doctors work with the vibranium beads to help the man heal his wounds. "Because you know he's ugly," Loki quips and Shuri cannot help but swing her neck to catch Tony lick his lips and shift his weight between his legs.

"Quite bold coming from you." This voice is new for Loki. So is the red hair that flows around the face seemingly carrying the weight of an entire world in her eyes. And there it is! The glare that Loki is more familiar with than his own name. "Did I hurt someone from your family too?" the voice carries a hint of tiredness yet the sharpness of the God is not lost in those words. Bruce adjusts his glasses over his nose as his eyes roll and turn to Loki. The stern words pleading him to stop for a breather seem to take a pause on the scientist's lips when he witnesses the view unfolding in front of him and others. Red and green plasmic waves float around the two magicians without either of them moving a limb. The colours seem to mingle at one point before they trace a path to the other being and try their best to find and opening. It is not as much a fight to dominate as it is a challenge to find out who is strong enough to let the other one in. "Wanda," a prayer leaves Vision's lips in concern for his love but Tony is quick to raise his hand enough to let everyone in the room know they better not intervene. Not yet. If they had not known Loki as they do, it would have seemed like an ethereal dance of two energies. And a dance it was. Loki's green waves hopped and jumped around Wanda's red akin to two plasmic entities playing tag with each other, wanting to wait it out. Now some would say great minds think alike while others can state that it wasn't as much of the minds as the hearts that making the decision today; for both Loki and Wanda let their guard down at the same time, entering each other's sacred grounds to find a piece to take with them. "Wanda," a concerned yet authoritative call comes from the other end of the room. A single tear falls off those pale and tired skins as the sole evidence of the exchange before their powers dissipate and let the room breathe. "Well, well," Loki is the first to compose himself, straightening his back while bringing his arms behind as he turns to face his favourite boy. "if it isn't the earth's mightiest hero." "Consistent? Sure. Mightiest? Ehh," Tony mutters before looking anywhere but at Captain America. Well, at least that is what he thinks he will do till his eyes catch of glimpse and then come back to properly settle on the nomad look Steve Rogers chose for his time away. Steve's brooding brows do not leave the God for a second, nor do they fluster when Steve walks down the steps towards him, clearing the atmosphere of any misunderstandings about who is in charge- to which Shuri simply rolls her eyes and fires up her system. "Not want to be a part of the sausage fest, thank you," she mutters and gets to work. Peter seems torn between helping her out- as an excuse to see her lab- and witnessing Steve Rogers and Loki go down before his mentor's piercing gaze tells him he is better off with Shuri any damn day. "I told you we would meet again, Captain," Loki smirks at Steve and bows a little. "The honour is mine as always." "You are alive right now because Bruce has put his faith in you." "I haven't killed myself yet just for having a chance to meet you." Ignoring the gasps and groans in the background Loki takes a step towards the Captain. "If you doubt me-" he raises his arms in the air as a sign to have let his guard down- "strip me away of my power and use my weakness as you may." He looks at Wanda to let Steve follow his gaze. Wanda is standing next to Vision now, trying to gravitate herself with the support of the nearest table under her wavering hands. With one satiating deep breath, she finds her ground and focuses her eyes back to the present, thanking the wide glass walls to let the Wakandan sun and greens for their part. The sternness Steve has for Loki melts the second he turns to Wanda. The shift pinches Loki but he reduces it to just another jab and waits patiently for Wanda to say her peace. Wanda brings forward her hand and lets Steve rest his palm in hers. The moment their hands touch, a sting of her pulsating power can be seen reflecting right in Steve's irises as red embers glowing intensely for a second before disappearing into the darkness they came from. Loki has seen that look before. The very look he carried when learned the truths about the world around his. He can see the similar fear-laced question in those galactic eyes of Steve Rogers as well.  The question isn't carried in words but in the shallow breaths his lungs take in and out repeatedly till they are balanced enough to take grasp of the reality. Bucky- who has been standing in the corner of the room- takes a step towards Steve only to be stopped by Sam. "He's fine," the soldier whispers while gesturing with a nod towards an equally concerned Tony who pats the Captain's back before soothing it. "You okay there, Cap?" His voice has nothing but concern for his friend in this passing moment. Everything is in the past for now. For now. Fingerless gloved hands get hold of Tony's arms and this is the second when Tony realises that Steve isn't shivering under the cloud of fear, not is he panicking under any dark spells. He is standing there with his brows constricted in a serious thought while his pupils are trying to refocus from infinity. The entire hall is silent, waiting for Steve something and yet patient enough to let him take his time. And he finally raises his head to turn towards Loki with a look no one in the room could expect. "Thanos." The word itself carries a firm note and the weight in Captain's voice can tell Loki how much this man has already understood. No wonder he is my favourite. "He is the reason behind-" "Everything." Loki walks towards Vision and stands next to him- right in the centre- to let his magic display the knowledge which is lost upon the rest of the audience. The plasmic waves form four stones in his palm with a glow akin to their original spirit. "He is the reason the universe has not known peace because of his hunger for these. And the two that are here on earth." "How many does he have right now?" Sam asks the question everyone wants to talk about. "He has Space, Power and Reality." "So we have Vision's third eye and Doctor's necklace. There's still one missing. Not to mention the crippling doubt of whether we will be able to win with two pebbles." Loki comes to stand by the glass wall overlooking the grassland spread till the mountains by the horizon. The sun rays feel calming on his skin when he closes his eyes to breathe in the peace for a second. "There is one thing that Thanos has a firm belief in; so deep and blind that even the flip of this universe will not tether that belief. The belief of being the righteous person who can set everything on its true course. Anything that does not flow as he chooses must be cleared away. He claims himself to be a God that can set the balance. The saint of saints." Opening his eyes, he turns around to face the crowd immersed in those words that have been wanting to flow for a century now. "The only mistake this saint made was walking away without witnessing me die with his own eyes. So now, I will make him pay. I have a plan. And that plan has all of you." Steve, rerunning his words in his mind while his eyes rest on the ground and his thumbs in his belt loops, wonders out loud, "And why should we trust you?" Bruce shifts where he stands, wanting to say something. "I once told my brother to trust my rage-" Loki looks down at his right hand reflecting the scars- "I now ask of you the same-" his eyes mapping the ones from this morning before turning back to the humans- "trust my rage. Trust that I will avenge my brother's death-" his plan to stay stoic is given away by the rapid blinks to wash away that dew trying to settle on the edge of his eyes- "and if need be, bring him back."

A Sinking Memory: Analysis

So, instead of doing my uni work like I should be (my excuse is that my big laptop is updating(that’s where all my code files are that I am supposed to be working on)) I’m going to write a bit about my latest piece uploaded to Ao3 and the 3rd installment in my Halloween Adventures series!

There is a lot to be said about A Sinking Memory, including things I didn’t even think of when I was writing the piece and that only occurred to me after I’d posted it. Not only does this piece work it’s way full circle in less than 4k words, it’s complete on it’s own and it’s one of my more concise yet impactful works.

In regards to the historical fallacies: yes, I am aware that most of the executions during the era of witch trials were either burning, hanging, or stoning, and I couldn’t really find anything about drownings; it would have been more of a test (if she sinks, she’s innocent sorta thing). But, in the spirit of altering things a bit and making a plot work in my favor, I decided this was the direction to go.

You may have noted that I touched on Zoe being chased by colonists with torches further down the East coast only a year ago. I’d mentioned way back in Saudade that this had also happened to her. Suffice it to say, the 1600s really sucked for Zoe in general and anything related to it is triggering. As for the events of her drowning, she’s now definitely traumatized between watching the other two women die and almost dying. She definitely has PTSD from it and she does not like going into water at all anymore and she does not like open flames or fire in general. But wait, you say, what about her altar and the candles? Well, that’s her way of learning to manage this fear and coping with it. She’s made that practice her own and it’s actually even comforting now. She’s not there yet with water, but maybe one day. After this event she even struggled to calmly use her magic again because of that fear of electrocution and it was in general a long time healing.

Now onto one of my more favorite parts; Zoe’s near death. As Zoe is succumbing to lack of oxygen, some very vital things are happening that she doesn’t have the mental capacity to understand anymore. If you knew what was happening on reading this part, before Douxie’s snippet, huge kudos to you. Firstly is the disturbed light above her head - Douxie has leapt into the lake and is diving down to her. But she closes her eyes and is unawares of anything else between the cold and the pain. Here come the key details;

“The pressure around her ankles and wrists releases and she feels strangely weightless. The last things she feels are the chill fingers of Death pulling her away, a gentle hand against the back of her head.”

You can probably guess by now that this is not Death at all, but Douxie, having released the shackles and is bringing them back to the surface, his own cold fingers that she feels, and his hand supporting her head. This was extremely metaphorical to me between the idea of her interpretation and the reality of it. Not everything is as it seems. Water is also representative of life.

Now, back to me choosing water as her execution. Well, not only is fire harder to save someone from in a delayed manner, but water is metaphorically charged. Water is representative of change, life, or associated with obstacles. Before Zoe is thrown in, she considers her fate and that she didn’t run when she could have. This Zoe wasn’t the skeptical, distrustful one she is in the modern day. She tried giving them chances, and unfortunately,  it was the last time she’d try reasoning with those she felt to be unchanging. We see this reflected in how ready she was to kill the chimera; she’s become a “shoot first, ask questions later” sort of person. And that’s one of the differences between her and Douxie. Douxie is always going to try another way. He also has serious trust issues, but instead, he will give too many chances. And this balances the two of them, and it strengthens their trust for each other tenfold.

The timejump to the 60′s is a very emotionally packed scene that reflects on Zoe’s lasting trauma and the development after her near-drowning. She’s shoved in by a jerk that doesn’t understand “no.” Now she has further reasons to be distrustful, and I’m afraid the world has a habit of solidifying this idea for her. She literally only trusts Douxie and Archie by the present day. And Douxie being Douxie, well, he stands up for her and simply asks for that jerk to apologize. If it were any other situation, he probably wouldn’t have resorted to violence. But he knows firsthand how awful triggered traumas are and how despicable it is to do something like that when it was clearly wrong. And so for once, he follows through on it. And instead of Zoe coming out changed this time, Douxie emerged from that lake understanding finally that sometimes direct action in the moment will be the best choice.

We see a side of Douxie that is usually quite hidden. He’s not violent or angry by nature, but we do know that if you hurt anyone who he loves, then you’re in bigggggg trouble. Douxie gets her to the car, settles her down, makes sure she’s fine -- and then he snaps. He slams his hands on the steering wheel, he tells her he should have done worse, and then, he softens again, and cries.

Because this world has hurt both of them so much more than just about anyone could know, and it’s not even done hurting them. Douxie emerged from that lake understanding a harsh reality. So not only do we see the final stone setting in for Zoe’s bitter outlook, but we also see the moment in which Douxie realizes that this world is cruel and he’s faced with two paths. It’s either lash out and hurt and hate, or to love and protect. Those few lines in the car are super important to this, because it shows that he’s struggling with his own actions and beliefs.

“It’s not alright, Zoe. People like that are awful. I should have done so much worse. You don’t deserve that.” His face twists up in anger again and he throws his head back against the headrest. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears fall on his cheeks and she pulls him across the bench seat. He wraps his arms around her and lets out a sigh.

He chooses love. Despite the pain, despite the hurt, despite how much the world has hurt them. He’ll choose love each and every time. And he understands now that sometimes he’ll have to fight for that -- a central difference between moppet!Douxie and present!Douxie. Moppet!Douxie wasn’t a fighter by any means because he didn’t know how to be the right kind yet. And now that he knows? And the final straw is his battle with Morgana in Camelot. He knows what his strength is, and he knows that he’s powerful and capable. But when it comes down to it, when everything is considered?

He still chooses love, and he always will. Magic is emotion, and love is one hell of an emotion, arguably stronger than the fury Morgana presented.

And back to the actual fic, because I’ve gotten way off course. Zoe is Douxie’s support system now, other than Archie, they’re the only two he’s always had. Ultimately, Zoe and Douxie are each other’s physical tethers - he holds her hand the whole time he drives them home, the hand on her back. Douxie will always try to be there to pull her out of the depths and be her anchor on land when she’s being dragged under and she’d never hesitate to do the same for him(more on this to come).

MLP Lore/World-Building Headcanons!

So I’ve kind of wanted to expand on some lore headcanons, or at least how they apply to my next-gen verse. Some of these I’ve seen similar ideas from a lot of different mlp content creators and some are ones I’ve been working on. I like how everyone puts their own individual tweaks on similar headcanons so I’m excited to show my own!

I also follow the popular headcanon that all ponies have some level of magic. Earth ponies are adept at channeling magic through their hooves (I figure this is how they can hold things like books and cups, and play instruments etc. with no fingers). It’s a very tactile sort of magic so anything that involves a lot of direct contact is something they are more likely to excel in. Pegasus ponies channel magic mostly through their wings (they can do through their hooves as well but not usually as easily as earth ponies). Unicorns obviously channel magic through their horn (Very rarely can they channel through their hooves and when they can it’s typically difficult for them. Their hooves are typically split/cloven and are slightly more fragile). Alicorns can affectively channel magic through all three and even simultaneously. Technically any pony can “ascend” and become an alicorn, though it is almost impossibly hard for some and other are more likely (further explained ahead).

So basically this is going to relate to pony magic and it will be Aligned vs. Embodied vs. Tethered.

Aligned:

So this applies to every pony no matter their pony-type or amount of magic. Every pony (and probably creature but I havne’t gotten that far with headcanons yet) has their magic and talents aligned with one or more major world component. World components are typically broad and I think the major ones I’m thinking of are: sun, moon, stars, space, the sky, weather, earth, agriculture, hearth, water, fire, nature, seasons, music, combat, emotions, magic, chaos, and order. Some of these can be further broken down (water: ocean, lake, river etc.) or be a combination of a couple. Also two ponies with similar talents/magic can still have different alignments (for example two ponies with cutie marks in navigation but one aligned with stars and one aligned with order).

Not all ponies are strongly connected to their alignment and many don’t think on it at all.

Embodied:

This is much rarer and most ponies are not an embodiment. Our mane 6 and Cadence end up here (and in my next-gen verse Shining Armor too). Each world component can be embodied by a pony. This is a pony that is perfectly aligned with their component and as we see with our main characters, they are the physical representation of those elements. Embodied ponies are typically stronger and have a longer life span than non-embodied ponies. They are also significantly more likely to become an alicorn. This can happen spontaneously but typically it is rare without guidance from an existing alicorn or conscious effort on the embodied pony themselves. An embodied alicorn’s lifespan is extended even more and though not immortal, can live for centuries. Unlike regular alignment, there can only be one pony embodying a world component at a time. Cadence is the embodiment of love itself and while she is alive there will not be born another. Now there can still be plenty of ponies that have love magic and are love-aligned, but none that quite so effectively represent its very core.

Tethered:

Now we’re getting to the big magic! A tether is embodiment taken one step further. Any tangible part of the world can be tethered to a pony (or creature?) on it. This is where Luna and Celestia are. Luna and Celestia are the embodiment of the moon and sun, but more than that they are kind of the very souls of those things. A tethered pony is linked to their tether by their very life force. Their magic and personal conditions are tied to it. For example, Luna could be seen as the soul of the moon itself and what affects the moon would also affect her and her magic. Her magic and mood can be greatly affected by the phases of the moon for example. A tethered pony will live as long as their tether exists. They can technically be killed but it is difficult to do so as they are very powerful and resilient. If a tethered pony IS killed their tether will likely go haywire for a while. Eventually a new tether could be born, but it likely wouldn’t be right away. This has never happened in pony history that anyone has known of though so knowledge is a little shady. Like embodiment, only one tether can exist at a time.

Any pony can be born with a tether, and any pony that IS born with a tether will inevitably become an alicorn. There is too much magic tied to their soul and their body adapts to it in a way that helps them channel it most easily. It is ideal for the pony to be guided in this process and it is said that it is traumatizing for a pony to ascend without help and without warning (especially if they don’t know their tethered and destined to become an alicorn). Tethers are super rare and modern pony history only knows of two tethered ponies in history (Luna and Celestia) though there are creation myths surrounded tethered alicorns (which I will also eventually make a post on because that is my headcanon for the origins of the different pony races ^_^)

So there are the main differences between the major types of magical alignment! Embodiment and tethers are likely increased in odds if a pony is related to someone who has experienced one but isn’t necessary for it to happen.

Let me know if you have any questions or even just if you liked my ideas! Thanks for reading! :)

I have come to the conclusion that none of this happened. Liam properly hid his magic, Amethar was crowned Emperor and quickly set up a council to run the country, and everyone's alive and dandy. Caramellinda was called to come join her husband, and she's able to get over her mistrust of the outside world to join up with Primbalina to become an awesome duo ruling the country, with Amethar as their front and hype man.

Jet and Ruby stay in the capital with their parents for a bit longer, during which Jet and Anabelle begin a whirlwind romance. It doesnt start that way, it starts as just hero worship from Jet and Anabelle agreeing to train her, but they spend more time together and become closer and closer until one day Anabelle pins Jet against the wall with her sword, and one second they're trading barbs about how the other fought, and the next they're making out in the otherwise empty room. They make no promises, come to no agreements, and dont even talk about things for a long while, only having fantastic make out sessions after each training.

Ruby spends her time secretly learning magic from Theo and Lapin and even Liam, soaking up everything she can. When her sister goes off for her "training sessions" (which she totally knows is just code for making out with Anabelle. She's slightly jealous, because she did technically see Anabelle first, but overall she's just glad her sister is happy), she wanders around the capital with the Tart Guard in tow, looking for something to keep herself entertained. She eventually finds a performance troupe, and finds herself falling into her own kind of love. Both with the physics defying stunts the performers are doing, and with a young fructarian, a non-binary peach. The two of them become close friends, the romance that will blossom between them on the slower side, especially because of their differences in status. But Ruby is second in line, and she's happy with taking her time, just excited to see their smile and feel the warmth of their hand in her own.

Liam is always so confused about what he's supposed to be doing on the council, and half the time he just accidently offends people. It doesnt help that he gets another letter from his brothers, claiming that he's fully turned against the family by joining their enemies. But he like Amethar and Jet and Ruby more then his father and brothers, so he just shrugs and waits for someone to tell him what to do. And after a long talk with Caramellinda, they figure out the perfect position for him - Master of the Harvest. Usually a position that goes towards one of the more plant based people, its agreed upon that his knowledge of seeds, of all types, greatly surpasses those of many others, especially for his young age. So he's given a group of guards who understand the magic of druidcraft (which Brennan did say was allowed) and sent off on missions to inspect the crops from each region, returning frequently with reports and his bag full of seeds to show off to his favorite cousins. He has a brief engagement with Primsey, but she's too in love with her lost beu, and he's honest with the fact that he doesnt want to have sex and so wont be able to give her kids. She fully accepts that, and they still stay great, amazing friends. He's always welcomed in her home in the Dairy Islands. Eventually, while it's just him and Preston and his guards for a long while, he does find a kindred spirit in a meat person, a Turkey druid who also doesnt want romance or sex but would love to be held and loves seeds. They strike up a very quick friendship, and soon become the closest either will ever be to a couple. Best friends, traveling the world to look at seeds, holding hands cause they're both aro ace and dont care if people think they're gay.

Lapin manages to keep his secrets from the world at large, though his companions all know the truth, eventually. He works in secret to undermine the Bulb, and allow other religions to sneak their way into being acceptable again. It takes a long time, but eventually he succeeds, in a fashion. The Bulb is still seen as the supreme god, but the Sugarplum Fairy and the Carnivorous Creatures and all the others we dont know about are more seen messengers of the Bulb. Holy in their own right, fighting against The Hungry One in their own right, made of and from the Bulb, if not the Bulb themselves. The true believers of these other religions just roll their eyes and nod, but hey - its progress, and the magic granted by these other beings slowly beings to sink back in and return to Calorum. Lapin is able to eventually relax into his true passion - arguing with that dumb brute of a body guard and teach the future children.

Speaking of the brute, Theo continues to enjoy his job. He loves being a guard, loves training other guards, and when they're still at the capital, he loves training Ruby and Jet. When they're gone, he throws himself into training everyone else, and honestly enjoys himself. He is a war guy, though he's fully adapted to peace, and is just happy to see how the word continues to prosper. When he's not working, he fight with Lapin, drinks and plays games with Amethar, and goes on long walks with Sprinkle. He's an old man, gets to be Lapin's age, though their advanced ages doent stop either of them from constantly going at each other, and just enjoys his life in the capital. He sometimes regrets not having his own family, but the remembers that he does, they're just named the Rocks.

Going back to where we left off the Rocks, rules of Candia, soon enough ways must be parted. Liam's gotten used to saying goodbye to Ruby and Jet, so when its decided that Jet must return home and take up the mantal of Queen, its not hard for him. It is for everyone else, though. Theo is torn about letting this little spitfire go home alone, and Lapin is sure she needs at least another decade of schooling before she'll be ready. Caramelinda is of the same mind, and would go back to continue ruling instead if she wasnt so integral to ruling the rest of the world. Amethar is sure Jet will do fine, she's great, but this is his little girl. He's had to leave a few times, yes, but she's never had to leave him. It's hard.

And Ruby. The two talk for a long, long time, but eventually decide to part ways. Just for now, of course, nonetheless, they have different paths to walk. Ruby is starting a life here in the capital, with their parents and her peach datemate, and it really seems like the circus thing is going to stick. And in court, the few times she's sat in on a meeting, she's been able to provide the common point of view, which has been severely lacking. She likes being helpful, in a non-stressful kind of way. And so, even though she knows Jet needs to go take her place as Queen of Candia, she wants to stay.

And Jet is hurt, because she's the only one in the family who has to leave, and she at least thought Ruby would come with her. But, instead of trying to force her, or find a way to stay, Jet, instead, hits the books. She begins searching through everything she can, putting off her return one more week ("I guess Cal has a decent hold on things for the moment," Emperor Amethar agreed when she told him her plans) to find what she needed. And what she needed was a long distance messaging spell, that Lapin helped to modify. A tether between the two, one they could open at any time, to allow them to speak to each other whenever they wanted. A twin messager, if you would, that allowed them to always be with each other.

That done, Jet said her goodbyes to her family, and went to say her lost goodbye to the woman who has stolen her heart. Only to find her gone, Captain Anabelle Cheddar's ship having set sail in the middle of the night. She kept a straight face, though the moment she was on the road, alone besides the Tart Guarda and the Imperial Soliders her dad had sent with her, Jet opened the channel with Ruby and cried.

It was a rough week of traveling. Not because of any danger, no, it was smooth on that front. But because for the first time in her life, she was going to be alone. It was easier, having Ruby to still talk to, to pass along messages to their parents and friends, but still, it hurt to not have an actual hug when her heart was breaking.

It hurt so bad, she didnt notice the strange ship at port when they passed through their one town that accessed the ocean, only a day's meep ride away from the castle. She didnt notice the strange visitors who joined the crowds there to welcome her home – she was so focused on keeping an excited face.

She only noticed when she entered the throne room, calling for Cal, the only adult figure currently in her life who could give her a hug and promise everything was going to be ok.

Only then did she notice Captain Anabelle Cheddar, playing with a knife as she sat on her throne, ignoring the guards who were trying to scold her. Anabelle, who looked up as Jet entered, and greeted her with a giant smile, welcoming and excited to see her. Anabelle who stood, walked over, and pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

Both of them would soon come to reconsider their positions on marriage, if they could marry the woman next to them. Lapin would get to work, poking and prodding the church to make it allowed, and with Amethar blessing this union, they made it work.

And Amethar? Being Emperor was hard, though less so with support. He learned how to show Caramelinda that he appreciated her, learned how to be a better husband and kind, learned what his actual duties were to the people under his command. Something he should have done a long time ago, but just hadn’t had the will to do so. But now everything was in his court, literally, and he had to do what was right.

And he fell back in love with Caramelinda, all over again. They had been in love before, back when he was fifth in line, before the war. But then time and distance had parted them for so long, and he had fallen for another, a young woman from the Dairy Islands. They had met, married, had their wedding night before war had once again parted them. He finally sat down with Jack, and got the full story – a bit over a year later, the young dairy woman had married a young farmer, they had had children of their own, and a decade ago she had passed from some cheese illness Amethar couldn’t even pretend to understand. He was sad, but was glad that she had had a good life, since he had loved her, in the way that death and violence and needing someone to be there grew a kind of love.

But that was done now. Not gone, but like a closed book, and with that closure, the part of Amethar that had been resisting the life he now had felt a little bit more settled. He still hated every bit of being king, still played hooky with Cal when he visited from being Candia’s advisor or Theo whenever he could, but he tried. He showed Caramelinda how much he appreciated her, and actually finally learned how to read, and figured out names and stations so he could help make the world a better place, and it was worth it.

It was worth it to fall back in love with Caramelinda, to actually feel the flips in his stomach that she used to give him, back before when he was young and before war had broken something inside of him. It was worth it to see that smile of hers, and know that she was feeling it too, the love they had both wanted and struggled for for the last twenty years. It was worth it to kiss his wife and actually be happy.

And damn it, if Gustav’s last prank was to make him responsible for the entire world, then at least he was by the side of the best of wives and best of women, Caramelinda of the house of Rocks.

And it was worth it, in the end. It was worth it to help Lapin out whenever he could, slowly reshaping the church so it better fit the world they were making. It was worth it to watch Theo train the next generation of guards into a fighting force that almost surpassed himself, guards loyal and loving and just as kind and as great a friend as Theo was himself.  It was worth it to see Liam grow into a confident young man, sure of himself, instrumental in helping to ensure the continent was properly fed. It was worth it to watch Ruby become a master performer and spy, passing on the commoner’s thoughts of him and his empire so adjustments could be made, so the masses could be protected and cared for and satisfied without fear. In fact, many sought out Ruby, knowing she had the Emperor’s ear, and could pass on what they were scared to say to his face, for even though he was a good, kind ruler, a fear of rulers still existed. It was worth it to see Queen Jet and Queen Consort Anabelle rule his old home with kindness and love, their union having strengthened the Candian alliance with the Dairy Islands.

It was worth it, as age crept in, to sit there, holding hands with the love of his life, watching as a chocolate milk girl wrestled with a cobbler boy, all while two little cheesecake children slept in their laps. It was worth it to lean over and kiss Caramelinda’s cheek, to see the love pouring from her as they watched over their grandchildren, knowing that soon their friends and the rest of their family would be in one room again, and that none of them would ever have to be war people. It was worth it to know that, because of their efforts, all they would know was peace, and if the most these children ever became was a ruler, or a performer, or a knight, or a warlock, or a seed guy, all because of their efforts?

It was enough.

Except for poor Thad who, as far as they knew, was still in the alley.

(Fae) Blood is Thicker  || Lydia and Deirdre

Timing: The morning after the Red Room, where Morgan and Remmy found out about Lydia’s humans Parties: @inspirationdivine @deathduty Summary: Deirdre comes to comfort Lydia after her friends leave her. Triggers: Domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, gun use reference, head trauma references. No actual abuse in this but lots of apologism

Deirdre nodded back at the security guard as she’d been let in, sparing a quick glance at the last text she’d sent—a quick ‘I’m coming over. Let me in’ to Lydia, followed by the heart emoji so she would know that Deirdre wasn’t coming with anger, only comfort. She didn’t particularly think Lydia would assume she was upset, not like Remmy and Morgan seemed to be, but much seemed to be confusing to her now. She still couldn’t wrap her head completely around what the issue was, but the voice of her mother was clear: only fae understood each other. And so she was here, with understanding and love. “Lydia?” She called out. “I heard what happened. Are you okay? I—where are you? Lydia?” 

Lydia had gotten Deirdre's text when it had arrived, and should have gotten dressed. At the very least she should have wiped yesterday’s make up from her face. She had at least the previous night managed to pull off her frilly dress, leaving on her beige slip underneath. She hadn’t so much gotten into bed so much as curled up on top of it and pulled the rest of the duvet over her like a burrito blanket. At some point she’d stopped crying, but she wasn’t convinced at any point that she’d fallen asleep. Her eyes throbbed, her chest ached, and yet the sun had had the gall to rise anyway. Downstairs, the door clicked open, and Lydia heard Deirdre call out for her. It took a moment for her to scrape together the courage to ask. “Up here,” She croaked.

“Up here? Up here? Where is up here?” Deirdre, panicked for the well-being of her friend, glanced around frantically. It occurred to her then, with the flush of her cheeks, that Lydia had meant upstairs. Despite her blunder, she was quick to follow the sound of Lydia’s voice, rushing up the stairs to find her in a state of undress, and clearly not okay. She took Lydia into her arms the moment she could, holding her close and tight. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled against her hair, “I’m so sorry they found out.” She was sorry that they didn’t understand, she was sorry that they thought of humans like people. She was sorry they’d hurt Lydia, and she was sorry they wouldn’t see her as the good woman that she was anymore. “Were you sleeping?” She asked as she pulled back. “We can go to your bed, if you’d feel better laying there.”

Lydia thought she had run dry of tears, but no, they were just trapped behind another damn. As Deirdre pulled her into her arms the floodgates re opened, new tears spilling down her cheeks without invitation. She didn’t reply nor hug back at first, but shrank into the embrace, leaning into Deirdre as much as she could. Sorry. So was Lydia. She should have locked the door. She should have been more careful. Lydia inhaled shakily before sobbing quietly, her voice croaking. After a long moment, she nodded, curling back into her bed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell her you knew. I’m so sorry.”

 Deirdre sat at the edge of Lydia’s bed, beside her, holding her hand as the other moved to soothe her tears. “It’s okay,” she laughed with a quiver, “I would have rather told her myself anyway, which I did...so it’s okay. Don’t worry.” She smiled softly, though there wasn’t much of anything to smile about. “Don’t be sorry, Lydia. It’s--well, I guess you already knew that there are some people who just won’t get it.” Only fae can understand each other...but even Deirdre knew what the fae in White Crest were like. They weren’t as traditional as the kind in Ireland, and the Irish Leanan-Sidhe had far worse prison cells for their humans. These were all things Morgan and Remmy would never understand, but Deirdre did. She knew Lydia, and she loved her all the same. “You’re a good person, you know. They don’t think it, but I do. I love you, my friend.” After a moment, she had decided that simply holding her hand wasn’t enough, and with care, she curled against Lydia on the bed. Of all the things Lydia and her had shared, cuddling was not one, but she didn’t care for the strangeness of it--she’d only wanted to hold Lydia. She only wanted to help her. She wanted to make it okay, make the pain of friends and love loss...okay.  

 "It’s not. The last thing I want is to come between the two of you. I should have kept-” Lydia breathed shakily, her voice vanishing as it cracked. Deirdre’s voice had quivered. It wasn’t all that okay. She breathed more and more shakily, pressing the back of her hand to her eyes as if she could push the tears back into her face and reverse everything that had happened. “I did, I knew, I knew when I first asked them to move in. The door should have been locked.” She shivered as Deirdre shifted onto the bed. "I love you too," Lydia whispered, curling right into Deirdre's cuddle. It was possibly strange, but after Remmy and Morgan has both rejected her touch, after Morgan's kiss that had burned ice cold, she wanted that loving warmth more than she could articulate. “I knew better than to grow fond of anyone other than fae. I should have been more prepared for this.” As soon as she said it, Lydia knew it was a foolish thing to say. She knew enough of poetry to know that heartbreak didn’t work that way. 

 “You wouldn’t be coming between us,” Deirdre asserted firmly. “My opinions of humans are nothing new to her and she...we’re okay. The two of us. We’d figure it out. It wouldn’t be on you, Lydia.” It’d been a while since she’d held anyone that wasn’t Morgan, and it took her a moment to remember that Lydia didn’t need, or want, the crushing grip she used on her girlfriend. Her regular, fae body would take a light squeeze better, and Deirdre moved by instinct, tugged along by the magical tether of their species between them. “Don’t say that…” She breathed, “you know that’s not it. You can’t blame yourself for loving Remmy, for not being prepared to lose them. That’s not your fault.” Morgan’s words rushed to her mind, though the conversation had been perplexing, she took away that there was an issue with how Lydia chose to treat Chloe. While what that issue was nameless in Deirdre’s mind, part of her whispered that something here must have been Lydia’s fault. Just what it was, she wouldn’t dare give power in her voice. “Remmy...wasn’t going to understand. But you weren’t wrong to love them, to give them a home, to care. I think you know, better than anyone else, that the things you do aren’t the kind that makes friends. But it wasn’t your fault to have hoped. And if that door was left open somehow, you can’t blame yourself for that either.” 

 How is that fair? Lydia wanted to ask, suddenly. When Deirdre had known from nearly the start, when Deirdre had praised Lydia for being so generous with her space, how was it that Morgan could forgive Deirdre for being involved when she couldn’t spare any such consideration from Lydia? When she’d tried to steal from Lydia. “And I would have loved you, if you’d ever let me,” Morgan had said. Lydia couldn’t feel any smaller if she’d tried right now, but she wanted to try even if it would crack her ribs. That would be the lesser pain now. 

 It felt, right now, ever so foolish to let herself love a zombie, especially one who had changed so recently. Every single argument Lydia’d had with Morgan was about how human Morgan still was despite everything. Remmy had been just as bad, but they had been quiet and soft and full of love, looking for guidance rather than conflict. It was part of what had made them so easy to love. That love had led her to betray her own kind for them. That same love had let her show Morgan just what she was capable of. Perhaps, if she hadn’t been so eager to help Morgan, none of this would have been so bad.  “It was my fault. Deirdre, I’ve made so many mistakes since… since that wretched leech got in here. I damaged a painting, I keep promise binding people only to get it wrong, I accidentally promise bound myself the other day, completely unintentionally. And I killed Sammy. Not by feeding off him, but with a gun. I can’t think straight, I can’t- It’s my fault. I don’t-” Lydia pressed her face into Deirdre’s shoulder to muffle a sob. “I don’t think they’re coming back.” Ever, Lydia thought, and that thought alone wrapped around her throat and choked her. 

 Deirdre’s hand found Lydia’s hair, brushing through the strands. She tried to straighten out the mess, and leave it as immaculate as Lydia liked it. “Okay, so you’ve made some mistakes then,” she said casually, as though the worst thing Lydia had done was toss a red sock in with her white laundry. “Maybe you can’t fix all of them, but you can start with some, if you’d like. Or you can take a minute, rest, and come back to it. Blaming yourself like this doesn’t help. You’re smart, Lydia, you’ll get back up.” She pressed her lips to the side of Lydia’s head, mumbling the rest of her comfort there. Though the shock of hearing of Sammy’s death clicked against Remmy’s account of gunfire, she let neither play in her voice or across her features. “It’s okay,” she cooed, “it’s okay.” But if it was or wasn’t, she didn’t know. Her only desire was to make it okay, somehow. “Maybe not. Morgan said she’d be by to pick up Remmy’s things. As I understood it, her issue is more with how you treat Chloe. Remmy’s problem with it is...probably far more broad.” She sighed, and tucked more hair back behind Lydia’s ear. “It’s okay,” she pressed another kiss there, “I’ll stay here with you, okay? For the whole day, for the week, if you want that. We’ll figure it out, okay? I’ll help you think straight, if you need it. And you’ll be okay, Lydia. I will always love you, and we can figure out what you want to do next.” She smiled warmly, though Lydia’s face was too far buried into her neck to see. “But we don’t need to do any of that now. Just tell me what you’re feeling. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

 “I’d love to see Morgan control a human as long as I do without having to treat them like- It was a bad moment. Anneliese never needed that kind of treatment. I’m not defending it, I don’t like it myself, I-” Lydia choked on the lump in her throat, what had started as a vicious retort had quickly melted into her own heartache, already missing the padding of quiet feet on the hardwood floors as Remmy made this house their home. She sobbed as Deirdre pressed a kiss to her hairline, and promised to be there, for as long as Lydia needed. Right now, that felt like forever. “I love you,” she murmured between crackling sobs, “I love you,” she repeated until her voice faded into nothing and her sobs subsided into painful, heavy breathing. Lydia had made this mistake before, but she’d forgotten how suffocating grief could be. “The basement, it’s an old bunker. There was an escape tunnel, this whole time and i didn’t know it. They’ve been creeping out for months. I should be better than that, I fucked up, if I hadn’t been more careful with the promises, it could have-” Lydia cut herself off, reaching up to wipe away her tears. “Sammy got bitten by something. I- panicked. I made the wrong choice, I think. I think I murdered him. And now this, and fuck, I- Felix is dating a human, I can’t help you or Regan with this training thing, Jared had a bad mushroom season. I feel more lost than I have since I was in my twenties, like that bloodsucker tried to drag me down into the mud with him.”

 “I don’t think I was very good at trying to explain that to her…” Deirdre sighed, understanding Lydia’s point, though she was ashamed at how happy she felt to hear Lydia admonish it. They were human, and it shouldn’t have mattered how Lydia treated them. What else was she going to do? Manipulation was the easiest way to deal with humans who thought they loved and adored her, the best way to keep them still and quiet. Deirdre understood this. She told herself over and over again, under each admission of love from Lydia, that she knew this. And she knew, better than Lydia did, that the leanan-sidhe in Ireland were far less kind. If there was an escape tunnel in their prison bunker, they probably would have done away with the insolent humans right there and then. This cruelty, that normalcy in which she had grown up in it, made her feel as though she ought to praise Lydia for being different. Lydia’s story was a little hard to follow, but she held her comments (bitten by what? Why did you need to kill him? What does Felix’s romantic life have to do with anything--and also, what? No one wants to help with the training, and Jared’s mushroom season seemed great to her). “Something terrible happened to you, Lydia, something you couldn’t have predicted and something you’re not used to. Wouldn’t it be natural to feel unlike yourself? To feel lost in the wake of having your security stolen?” She shifted, moving to thumb Lydia’s tears away herself. Suddenly sure that she shouldn’t have to wipe them alone. “But you’re not gone, Lydia. You’re here, and you’re you, and you’ve done some things you regret but you can do plenty more that you’re proud of. You’re okay, Lydia. You’re going to be okay.” Deirdre was sure at that point she was only mumbling nonsensical reassurances; she would have said anything to stop Lydia’s crying, to take her pain away. “I love you and I believe in you, Lydia. And I’ll be here, no matter what.” 

 Lydia had no idea how little sense she made, because now Deirdre had welcomed the floodgates. There were so many spinning plates she felt like she was dropping at the moment, people she wanted to help but couldn’t. Remmy leaving felt like a punishment for loving them so openly. “I hate it. I hate making mistakes, I hate feeling off balance. I hate that… And now they’re not coming back. I have to pack up their stuff and I don’t even know how to get out of this bed. He could come back at any time and come back to take more.” The vampire wasn’t even the only one who was taking from her now. If that wolf welp hadn’t tried to take Sammy, Remmy would never have become as suspicious as they were, and Lydia wouldn’t have such an empty home. “What did I do to deserve a friend as wonderful as you?” Lydia held Deirdre tightly, because it was the only salve for the hurt in her chest. Every murmured declaration of love pierced through that suffocating heartache. “People wonder why I favour fae, but how can I not, when you are here, when they are not?”

 “I’ll pack their things.” Deirdre declared. “I can do it. And he won’t come back for more, you’ve got your security and me. And you can stay in this bed as long as you want, and I can stay here with you.” It seemed simple enough to her; she loved Lydia, and she would stay. Whatever affairs needed to be fixed, she would help fix. Whatever tears needed to be wiped, she would wipe. Whatever humans needed to be killed, she could kill. It was fair to her, and nothing short of what she wanted for Lydia. “You’re pretty great, Lydia. You’ve done plenty to deserve kindness.” Lydia’s humans and their basement didn’t flicker across the movie screen of her mind. She saw scenes of that day crumpled on the hotel floor in Lydia’s arm; she thought of the damp alley outside of that mime bar; of all their evenings sharing wine, and Lydia’s immediate help with Regan’s father. The Lydia she knew was kind and generous, shrewd and proud. She was a fae, the way fae ought to be, and Deirdre had come to realize how lonely the perfect ideal was. Lydia was a person, with her flaws and merits, and Deirdre loved her all the same. But as Lydia said it, she knew they were fae, and she knew that was the basis of their friendship, even as something stung to hear it. “Fae understand each other best,” she mumbled back.

 “No,” Lydia murmured. She wanted to hold their things one last time. It was so strange a desire that for a moment Lydia could not reconcile it with anything else. They hadn’t been lovers, there was no secret memento Lydia wanted to pick out for herself. Part of her still didn’t truly believe they weren’t coming back. If there was any way to hold Remmy for a last few lingering moments, if only by running her hand over the back of their jacket or flicking through their art books one last time. “Can we do it together?” She offered after a moment, her ears suddenly ringing with Remmy’s question. 

 Could that have been me? 

 It was physically impossible to press closer to Deirdre, and yet Lydia tried, desperate for any last bit of comfort. “I feel like being my friend has brought you more hardship than it should have done,” she said softly, and thought instead of Emma Mushrow, and the horrid fall out from that. Deirdre sobbing in a hotel floor because she had been too afraid to tell Lydia about her human lover, and hadn’t she been right? Felix still wouldn’t answer after Lydia’s outburst. Deirdre was sometimes the fae Lydia wished she was, braver, bolder, better at their particular breed of chaos. She had wondered if the human influence of her mother had made Lydia less prone to the type of chaos Deirdre excelled at, and to top it all off Deirdre was kinder. “You and I understand each other best,” Lydia agreed softly, and somehow, through the chiming resonance in Lydia’s chest and Deirdre’s soothing words settling over her like a blanket, Lydia’s sobs had subsided. 

 “We can.” Deirdre smiled, “we can do anything you want together. Anything and everything or nothing at all.” Deirdre didn’t know loss like this well, it seemed like her whole life was loss. She didn’t know comfort well either, or emotion, but it almost didn’t matter. Lydia had become indescribably precious to her, and everything else fell into place around them. She held her close and tight and willed her pain to go someplace else. “How funny,” she laughed softly, as if afraid the sound would hurt Lydia. “I feel like being your friend has brought my life more ease and delight. You know, some hardships are to be expected in any relationship, and I don’t mind yours, Lydia. I love you, and I care about you, and I appreciate our friendship and I treasure it.” She pressed another kiss to the side of Lydia’s head, wondering if the other fae could feel her smile. “I don’t regret knowing you.” Lydia had, perhaps unwittingly, taught Deirdre more about being fae than any other had. For that, no matter what happened, she would always be thankful. “I think we do, Lydia. I think we do.” 

I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER TROPE FOR YOUUUUU!!! Jask and Reader are magically bound together (for however long you want to keep them there.) Like magical handcuffs. They cant go too far otherwise they're harmed/zapped/magically yeeted back to the other's side (however you want the magic to work 😂) You can take it any direction you want (and I'll never say no to smut) but do it as you see fit. I love awkward scenarios and secondhand embarrassment so go nuts 😁 Much love!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,178Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlocka/n: It’s really fun figuring out how these magical spells/curses/etc. will work and how to work around them! Enjoy!

The embarrassing thing was how long it took them to realize what had happened.  

Geralt had warned them that the carnival was no place to split up but you’d gotten distracted by the carousel and Jaskier went with you and then you’d wandered over to the fountain. Jaskier gave you his last coin to make a wish and you had screwed your eyes up tight and wished something that seemed so simple and heartfelt and safe at the time.

But magic wasn’t safe. Spells or fountains or any form, all of it had a cost or a twist.

Which was how you’d ended up here.

Here was the next morning when you had tried to walk to the river to wash up but as soon as you walked 6 feet from Jaskier you’d felt a strange yanking sensation in your core that forced you to stumble back. You’d chalked it up to something about breakfast not settling well and began to walk again, only to find the same thing happening again. Jaskier had gone to your side to ask what was wrong and the feeling vanished instantly. Geralt, overhearing the commotion, came out and when you told him how you felt he’d asked Jaskier to start walking. Jaskier reached the same distance and yelped, scrambling back, reporting the same feeling.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunted, shaking his head.

“What?” you asked.

“What did you do when you walked off like I told you not to?” he asked, his tone more disappointed than angry, which hurt worse.

“We looked at the carousel and we saw that fountain and I made…. a… wish…” your voice trailed off and Geralt gave you a long look.

“What did you wish, Y/N?” he asked. Your eyes glanced at Jaskier who gave you an encouraging smile, trying to hide the fear as he remembered the last time he’d been at the mercy of magic. You hemmed and hawed but realized that there would be no way of hiding it since you physically couldn’t leave each other’s side.

“I wished that Jaskier and I would always be together,” you admitted, your face blushing bright crimson as you did. Geralt nodded and you felt Jaskier’s hand touch yours. You looked to him and found him gazing at you with soft eyes.

“You did?” he asked, hand slipping through yours and gently caressing your knuckles. You nodded.

“Well this shouldn’t be too hard then,” Geralt said.

“Really?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes, we just have to go back to the carnival and you have to take back the wish,” he explained, moving to prepare Roach for the trip.

“Oh,” you said, feeling oddly sad. You didn’t want the two of you to be forced together this way, certainly not this close, but taking the wish back felt like cursing you to break apart. As though he could sense your thoughts, Jaskier turned you to face him and tenderly lifted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. You smiled sadly but the words touched an old ache in your heart. He was not the first to promise this, and you didn’t dare hope he’d be the first to keep it. As you walked back towards the carnival grounds, Jaskier mulled over the dilemma.

“One thing doesn’t make sense, Geralt. Why didn’t we see it til this morning?” he asked. Geralt scoffed.

“You hardly ever leave each other’s side,” he said, “Think on it, when did either of you move more than six feet apart in the last 12 hours?”

Jaskier thought it over and laughed.

“Well I guess it truly was an unnecessary wish,” Jaskier joked. You forced a laugh but stayed quiet the rest of the trip.

When you finally reached the carnival grounds it wasn’t hard to find the fountain.

“How do we know which coin was the one I threw?” you asked.

“We don’t need the coin. We just need you to make a different wish,” Geralt explained, handing you a coin. It felt heavy in your hand and your heart pounded, unable to shake the sense of foreboding as you and Jaskier walked over to the edge of the fountain, his hand squeezing yours encouragingly.

“I wish to not be tethered to Jaskier,” you said, and threw the coin in.

“Y/N, you stay there. Jaskier, come towards me,” Geralt said. Jaskier released your hand, the loss of it leaving you cold, but he quickly walked back as the same feeling set in. Geralt looked at you but you threw up your arms.

“You heard me!” you said.

“Did you mean it?” he asked. Both men looked at you and you feel hot under their scrutiny. Tears filled your eyes, more humiliation to endure.

“Of course I didn’t,” you admit, “Of course I don’t want him to go away. Why would I? Why would anyone?”

“You’d be surprised,” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a meaningful glance, hinting at old wounds. Geralt ignored the remark and walked towards you, his eyes growing a bit gentler and kinder.

“Alright, we’ll figure it out,” he said.

“What if I make a wish to break it,” Jaskier suggested.

“No, she has to be the one.”

“Yes but if I wish for something that superseded her wish, wouldn’t that work?” Jaskier asked. Geralt considered the question and looked back to you.

“It could be worth a try,” he said. You nodded and Geralt handed Jaskier a coin. The two of you turned back to face the fountain edge.

“I wish,” Jaskier began and then paused and turned to face, “I wish to have Y/N in my life til the end of my days.”

The coin spun in the air and landed with a soft plunk in the water.

“You were supposed to break the spell,” Geralt argued.

“I didn’t ask us to be tethered, just present. That’s what we want, isn’t it?” Jaskier asked, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded, unable to fully form words. Jaskier walked away from the fountain’s edge, walking slowly, moving further and further from you until he is well past the boundaries of the curse.

“It worked! Ha!” Jaskier cried.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted approvingly, and then climbed back onto Roach, moving quickly on from one disaster towards another.

As you and Jaskier walked you considered the wish he’d made.

“Did you mean it?” you asked, “I don’t want you to feel stuck with me out of obligation. I don’t want to be a curse.”

“First, the wish wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t meant it. Second, Y/N, you could never be a curse. I don’t know how exactly the spell will work out but I think it means we’ll always find our way back to each other. That sounds more like a blessing than a curse to me,” he said.

“I love you,” you said. You’ve never said it, not in so many words, but it falls off your lips as softly and naturally as breathing.

“I love you too,” Jaskier said, and pulled you back into his arms for a kiss.

rereading ur aus and seeing so many ppl share their ocs made me want to join the dance line ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ (this is my first ask non-anon and prolly like my third ever ask so sorry for the word jumble, im nerVOUS).

I think I will name my little blorbo Stitch. The reason for her name is that she sells handmade plushies online (+ works part time at the local art store to make ends meet) and she gets hurt easily that it isn't too surprising for her to get stitches the various falls and cooking injuries. She's neighbors with Love and they get along very well (girlys with more than a few screws loose) and even gifted a green teddy bear to cabbage when she found out abt the changeling. Stitch is fully human, and at first it was for shits and giggles but it quickly became set that she had like, no magic. nothing. empty like a brick. It's to the point where, idk, I hope this works in this world, even the most normal human at least gets goosebumps/bad feeling (brush it off as the weather or just life stress) when faes are around, but she just don't feel shit. She doesn't have nor retains any magic, so faes can still get hooks in her, but like too strong of a tug and it would *physically* come straight off. Hence her random injuries, and the depth of the injury will depend on the weight of the tether. Tapping doesnt work on her either but it does make her throw up and physically ill.

Still figuring out how this would've happened, but so far my fav idea is that a fae scared her so bad as a child that something went wrong. I know this is mixing cultures, but my mum once told me (and i cannOT for my life find online material supporting this belief) that in the chinese culture one of the ways they explain why children see shit is because they retain the most connections to the Heaven Realm as newly reincarnated subjects (and the connection fades with age and blah blah). So maybe Stitch was seeing the faes so vividly that shit wrecked her to the point a screw goes loose (mentally, emotionally, magically (??) and physically (her hair grows gray now)).

The mental image that started this all is just Stitch walking in the streets looking like a fucking porcupine with all the tethers attached to her and maybe Konig passing by feeling confused that this human?? showed absolutely?? no sign of discomfort (which i assume should be unusually in his presence)??? Ghost once tried (for the first and last time) touching one of the hooks when she was chatting with Love and watches in slight horror (and surprised) as she starts bleeding from a cut on her arm as the hook disappears. Stitch just slaps duct tape (the only thing she had with her) over the wound to stop the blood with a big ol' grin and "It happens :)". 1fae1 def heard abt this incident and maybe even Price is befuddled

Once again, sorry for the word vomit, hope u at least enjoyed reading this mess and here's a giggle scribble of Stitch and Ghost + her dumb ugly mug <3

Love love love love love Stitch.

My Sister's OC Hell is also neighbors with Love, so join the party!!

Yeah people like Stitch exist in the fae au and I have not gotten a chance to talk about them because most of the darlings have fairly run of the mill human shit going on. BUT The humans that have just zero magic, and don't retain magic to any degree are called "Sinks". Y'know because the magic just sort of sinks into them and is lost forever. The fae are a little iffy around Sinks because yeah their hooks don't catch them right, and I think even for Witch it's like walking past a hole in reality.

Konig would be very confused, Sinks aren't super common and he would probably follow poor Stitch for a while just trying to figure out what was going on. At least Ghost has to play nice because Love likes Stitch. Love would like Stitch a LOT. Mostly because she's like a golden retriever, but also because she would be so excited to have someone to craft with! Yes, please come over to her flat and sew while she journals, here hold to baby so she doesn't get fussy, no don't worry about Ghost staring he just does that.

7 for Kiss Meme w Dhar! @goldenworldsabound

@goldenworldsabound OH GOLDEN YOU'RE IN FOR A TRIP. This technically doubles as their first and it’s pre-relationship I hope that's okay 😅

7: "You're safe/alive" kiss

“Ajna! I'm sorry!! For this, and for everything else!”

It all happened so quickly. The party had given all that they had against Kala, as she and an enraged Ajna descended towards Lahn. With no time left to lose, Dhar had no other choice but to intervene himself. Heather, stood alongside her fellow Incarnations, froze with a gasp as she watched him leap towards the beast she no longer recognised as her friend. This was it. She was about to watch him die without getting to tell him how she felt.

And then an idea came to her. A spell that she had studied to exhaustion, but was never able to replicate on a human before. But she, like her beloved, had no other option. It was either that or leave him to his fate and live to regret doing nothing.

“DHAR, DON'T!!”

Getting a good running start, Heather leapt into the air, stabilising herself on her air-staff. The thick yet streamlined rod rocketed forwards, the amber gemstone lodged in the back glowing faintly.

“Earth, give me strength!” she heard Dhar shout, edging ever closer to a terrible fate.

It was now or never.

Heather quickly grasped the rounded end of her air-staff and began channelling her inner power. White-hot Iddhi burned through her veins and the staff’s gemstone shone ever brighter as she focussed on her target. She felt a sharp gust bursting in front of her as Dhar's form disappeared; she only glanced upwards for a second, but it was enough to catch a colossal beam of light where he once was. Eyes shutting almost instantaneously, a desperate scream escaped Heather; whether it was from the sheer effort, from the resulting pain or from uncertainty over whether she had gotten to him in time, she didn't care to know.

At last, the heat and agony subsided all at once. Heather gingerly reopened her eyes, loosened her grasp on the tip of the staff and gasped. Before her now floated an amethyst coloured orb of energy. It flickered and glowed in a fashion that reminded her of a star. This was all she needed to see. She had done it. The spell that she believed would prove impossible... It worked when it counted. The love of her life would live to fight again.

Heather's stunned observation of the orb was interrupted by the collapse of the city of Lahn from underneath. She knew she couldn't keep him in this form for long; she had to get to solid ground before her spell wore off. From this high up, and amidst all the chaos, she could just about make out a shoreline.

It would have to do for now.

Storing the ball of energy securely in her coat pocket, Heather descended at speed towards the earth below, her air-staff leaving wavelets in its wake as it skimmed the ocean. Coming ashore, she disembarked and placed the energy ball to her side. With Lahn still crumbling in the distance, she tried in vain to steady her breathing, not noticing the energy ball materialising just outside her field of vision. At least, until she heard a groan.

“Ugh... What happened...?”

She'd recognise that low tone anywhere. Sure enough, when she turned to her left, there he was. Dhar. All in one piece, looking a little delirious from everything he had just gone through. All that mattered to Heather was that he was alive.

Without thinking, she suddenly pulled him in for a desperate, borderline sloppy, kiss. His lips, light callouses and all, were a physical reminder that she had successfully ensured his safety. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. All she desired just then was to keep him safe in her arms forever. It was only when she noticed the tears running down her cheeks that she opened her blueish-grey eyes and realised what she had done.

Stupidly, she didn't break the kiss for a full three seconds, which the two spent staring wide-eyed at each other. The instant that it clicked, Heather leaned back in on herself with a humiliated yelp.

“I'm so sorry! T-this doesn’t mean anything, I swear! I'm just so happy that you're alive and I saved you and I've got you and you're safe with me and-”

Her blubbering was silenced when Dhar grabbed her by the shoulders. His grasp was as firm as ever, but it relaxed ever so slightly as soon as their eyes met.

“Stop,” he said, in a gentle manner that one would assume foreign to him. “We'll talk about this later, okay?”

Heather only nodded in response. She began to pace along the shore, as if she was trying to outmanoeuvre the bustling in her mind.

“Heather,” said Dhar, prompting her not to stop completely, but still to slow down. “What did you do?”

Head still spinning, Heather did her best to recount what happened; how he was going to be completely destroyed in front of her, how she had somehow managed to dig deep and perform magic that had eluded her before, and how she had taken him away to this quiet place.

“Gods. I don't know how to respond to that other than... Thank you.”

“We can't stay here,” said Heather as she made an upwards swooping motion with her right hand over the gemstone-encrusted end of her air-staff, prompting it to float in place. “We need somewhere we can recover from all this properly. I know a place. Come, this thing can hold two.”

Dhar had to suppress an incredulous laugh. “You can't expect me not to fall off of that thing, witch!”

“Firstly, I prefer 'cunning woman', thank you very much. Second, don't worry; it has a tethering ability of sorts so that you stay seated. Perfectly stable after many months of testing, I can assure you!”

Cautiously, Dhar took his spot just behind Heather, grasping the length of the staff. He’d believe it when he saw it. 

Smiling back at her beloved (whilst trying to come up with a way she could possibly cover up her feelings for him after that), Heather watched his eyes widen as the staff lifted upwards that tad bit more.

“Just do me a favour. Hold on tight for me, will you?”

“What?!”

Before he could question her further, Heather sent her air-staff rocketing forwards. Dhar let out a rather humiliating shriek, having been caught off guard at the speed of the damn thing, but he quickly became comfortable with it. Despite himself, and everything that had just transpired, he trusted Heather to bring the two of them to safety.

Little did he yet know that her stunt would be the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Sewing Scissors and Throwing Knives

Chapter 3 is now up! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading along! I will be posting a new chapter every Monday:)

If you want to read along from the beginning, you can check it out on ao3 here

Recap from last chapter:  Neil calls Kevin and accepts his offer, Neil meets (most of) the team, Kevin and Nicky decide that Neil needs a new wardrobe.

His fingers are itching for a cigarette. It’s not an addiction, since Neil doesn’t actually smoke the things, but he’s craving a tether. A comforting scent, something to ground him. It’s only an hour into his second day at the atelier and he’s already thoroughly tired of Kevin and the constant noise that permeates the floor. It’s getting annoying having to bite back the snarky comments and make everyone think he’s a pushover. But being a pushover will keep him alive, so he’ll make do. Matt and Nicky greeted Neil with the same level of enthusiasm as they had the day before, and he got a few friendly nods as the building started to fill. Fortunately being tied to Kevin made most people keep their distance. Unfortunately, being tied to Kevin meant that Andrew popped up constantly. Neil can feel his eyes tracking him even when he’s pretty sure that he isn’t even in the same area as them. “No, I need it by Thursday at the latest. I was promised it by Wednesday!” Kevin is saying into the phone in that particularly bossy voice of his. “No, you don’t understand. You’ve heard of Alli Rey, correct? Yes, everyone has. If we can’t get that shipment in by Thursday, we will no longer be working with your company.” Kevin continues in that vein, threatening to pull out of whatever deal they have. As far as Neil understands, the shipment is holding a fabric that they ‘desperately’ need for the showstopper in the quickly approaching show. Neil is a far ways away from his times running. He’s made little things out of the strangest material, purely out of necessity. He barely waits for Kevin to put down the phone before speaking to make sure that he can get a word in before Kevin starts. “Why don’t you just get a different fabric for it?” Kevin has that expression on that says that he can’t believe that he’s even wasting a second of his day for Neil. “It would never get here in time, even if we did somehow manage to find something as perfect as this.” “Okay, then use something you already have.” Neil thinks to the entire wall of bolts of fabric in every colour that sits in the cutting room. Kevins face is slowly going red. “You--no, fuck’s sake. Neil, no.” “Why not?” “Because this is the showstopper. This is going to be ending the show. You cannot leave the customers on a blah note, it has to be perfect. And the only way that’s going to happen is if it’s made out of a silk/rayon velvet that’s been hand dyed with a unique method in Amsterdam.” “Maybe your showstopper isn’t as good as you think it is if it’s going to fail just because you used a different nice fabric.” “He has a point,” a dry voice startles Neil and he whips around to face the door. Andrew stands there, wearing a very similar all black outfit to what he wore yesterday. Neil considers complaining that he has to change his look when Andrew wears the same thing every day. He keeps his mouth shut for once. Kevin splutters something from his spot behind the desk, face going a mottled purple. “Get out,” Andrew says to Neil. He hesitates, glancing at Kevin to argue. When he doesn’t, Neil makes sure to leave Andrew space as he walks past him. He closes the door behind him and pauses in the hallway to listen. The bond between Andrew and Kevin has already been mentioned countless times in the office, and Neil has read many articles about it in various gossip magazines. No matter what is written or said, no one can explain exactly why Andrew lets Kevin tag along. Neil can just barely hear Andrew through the door. “The Moriyama’s aren’t going to care which fabric the last dress is made out of as long as it makes them money. And Riko fuck-face can’t do anything without his uncles approval. Relax.” A muffled groan can be heard down the hallway. Neil leans in a bit closer to hear Kevin’s answer. His words are frantic and fast, too fast for Neil to be able to catch on. Andrew’s answer is a repeat of his earlier words. He doesn’t stay outside for much longer after that. Of course Neil had been keeping an eye on the Moriyamas to ensure that he would be able to avoid them, but he was under the impression that Kevin had split from Riko after the accident. Neil Josten was well and truly fucked.

He still had nightmares about the few weeks that he was stuck in the Nest, nightmares of the oppressive atmosphere, the pain and humiliation, the complete and utter exhaustion. It had taken him almost a month to stop losing time after the 16 hour days. He was still claustrophobic from the experience.

To make it even worse, he knows that his father works for the Moriyama's. He bitterly wonders whether he’ll even live to see the show that he is currently helping them prepare for. The smart thing would be to leave and get a new identity. Maybe check out Italy, he’d been learning Italian in his spare time while he was working as a janitor. Of course, just because that's the smart thing doesn’t mean it’s the route that he wants to choose.

The problem is the last time that Neil had felt so strongly about his surroundings was when he was in the fashion program in school. The working hum of industrials, the quiet bustle of seamstresses and cutters going about their work, the satisfying sound of sharp scissors cutting through silk. The atmosphere at Alli Rey was intoxicating and calming all at once. Neil had walked through the cutting room earlier and spent almost 20 minutes just looking at the shelves of bolts of fabric that fills one wall. He had almost filled his sketchbook last night with new ideas. He hadn’t felt this inspired by anything for years, and now that he had spent a few days as a part of the magic he wasn’t sure that he could tear himself away so soon. If he could just make it until the next fashion show, the one that Kevin wanted him to help design, then he could die in peace. That way he could have made a mark, albeit a small one. That way he could get rid of a few of his regrets in life.

Three days later and Neil is as in love with the volatile environment as he was when he decided that he would be willing to die for it. The craziness with the customer is apparently over, so Neil was finally able to meet Dan. She is a no-nonsense, hard working woman with a tight control over her team. She had Neil’s respect the minute he saw her wrangle Seth into some semblance of control, and he had no trouble saying that he trusted her completely to get everything finished. Seth is another employee that he has, unfortunately, gotten to know since the customer issues have been dealt with. He had immediately written Neil off, and he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder for any designer as long as it wasn’t Allison. Neil had met Allison a few times so far, and each time she had a different reaction to Seth being there. Their strange relationship didn’t make anyone else nearly as uncomfortable as it did Neil. “I think it’s time that you start working late like everyone else does,” Kevin announces as Neil walks into the office that he’s been ‘shadowing’ Kevin in so far. “I do work late with everyone else,” Neil says. Annoyance crosses Kevin’s face. “No, you leave with Andrew and Nicky everyday.” “So do you.” “I leave for dinner with them, but I come back after.” Neil has known that Kevin was obsessive about his work right from the get go, but he had no idea to what extent. He knows for a fact that Matt and Dan leave around the time that he does, since they keep inviting him out for drinks, and they have important roles in the company as well. Neil tries to muster up some irritation with Kevin about the demand, but all he feels is some excitement about spending more time in the studios. So far he’s just gone home to sketch, obsessively check the locks in his hotel room, and eventually fall into a restless sleep. Coming back in to help with the quickly coming up Resort show is infinitely better than anything else that Neil could be doing in his evenings. “Alright,” he tells Kevin. Kevin gives him one quick nod of approval. “Andrew will pick you up tonight at 9. Eat before then.”

As promised, Andrew’s fancy vehicle is waiting outside the hotel for Neil at exactly 9 o’clock. Kevin is waiting in the passenger seat, and neither of the men are currently speaking to one another. Kevin immediately launches into a brainstorming session with Neil when he climbs in the backseat, and as much as he is interested in what Kevin has to say, his eyes keep wandering to look at Andrew in the drivers seat. So far what he’s seen of Andrew makes him think that he’s apathetic about the whole thing. He’s always the calm in the storm when he walks through the atelier during the day (although that isn’t often. Mostly he’s holed up in the office that Neil so far hasn’t been in with a woman with rainbow dyed hair whom he hasn’t met), and whenever Kevin tries to talk with him about upcoming collections he answers with a bored glare. Neil’s fascinated with this person who obviously has incredible talent, yet doesn’t care about it. He wasn’t sure what to expect of their late night work, but it’s pretty similar to the work that they’ve been doing during the day so far. The only difference is that Kevin isn’t able to phone any of their suppliers, so he has more of the razor focus that Neil remembers from his Exy days. They’re in the beautiful, streamlined office staring at the wall behind Kevin's desk. Andrew lies on the couch near the window with a book, one that Neil hasn’t heard of before. The pages are dog eared and worn, yet the avid way Andrew focuses on the book makes it look like he’s never read it before. The wall has been transforming quickly while Neil has been here. For the most part he’s been keeping his opinions to himself (which has been more difficult than he thought it would be) since his real job will start with the next collection, but he hasn’t been able to help himself with a few of the looks. They’re planning the show, playing around with the order that the ensembles come out on the runway and which garments will be put together. Most of the wall has been taken over by the photos of each look on possible models (that will need to be decided as well, eventually). Each look has a number on it, though the numbers keep getting scratched out and changed. The only one that hasn’t changed is the showstopper, which will be going last. “I just still don’t understand what makes that one the showstopper,” Neil tells Kevin before he can control himself. He stiffens and waits for Kevin to have a conniption, or maybe a panic attack. Neil had thought that Andrew wasn’t paying attention to them, but a small huff tells him that he has. Kevin surprises all of them by looking thoughtful. It takes him a while to respond and he inspects the wall in the meantime. “I’m not really sure, actually. I had just decided in the beginning that it would be and it never occurred to me that it might not.” “Okay.” Neil says, but he’s been forgotten. A familiar frenzied look is in Kevin's eye now that Neil planted the idea, and he’s scrambling around the wall moving photos around. The rest of the evening is spent in near silence, and Neil finds that he enjoys his time with Kevin and Andrew more than he ever thought he would. He admires Kevin, and has for a long time. Seeing him working first hand isn’t always that impressive, but when he gets into this centered head space Neil can see why he’s gotten so far in the industry so quickly. Andrew is a different story. Where Kevin is an easy book to read, Neil just can’t grasp anything about Andrew. Everything he does surprises Neil. It’s unsettling.

So far Neil has managed to avoid Nicky and Kevin’s plans for getting him new clothes. By the end of the week he had quietly hoped that they had forgotten about it in the chaos of show prep. Neil Josten has never been that lucky. Nicky jumps him during lunch on Friday with far too much joy for such a task. “You’re going to love Abby, she’s great. We always go to the Garment District store just for her for the new recruits.” “We’re going to an Alli Rey store?” Neil has no idea what to expect from his day, but there’s a tight ball of dread in his stomach that’s threatening to swallow him. He counts to ten in French, and then German in the hopes that the anxiety will lessen. “Yep! Everyone tries to wear as much from the brand as possible for marketing. It was my idea,” Nicky preens as he pushes Neil out of the building. It’s just the two of them for once, something that hasn’t happened since he arrived. Neil makes a vague noise of approval. They get into Andrews car, which Neil can’t imagine the conversation that got the approval for Nicky to drive. Nicky talks nonstop the entire time they’re in the vehicle, which Neil is strangely grateful for. The empty chatter is enough to quell some of the nausea that popped up when he realized that he would need to get measured today, which also meant that it was pretty likely that he would have to take off his shirt. Unfortunately, he has already tried everything that he could think of to get out of this when Kevin first brought it up and he has no ideas left. All he knows is that Nicky absolutely can not be in the room while he gets his measurements done.

Apocalypse Now; Journey Home [iii.]

A month or so had passed, although it was becoming harder to keep track of the days and even the time now. She relied heavily on the sun and moon’s positioning and the calendar from the previous year was getting confusing to look at. At least the temperatures outside were warming up a bit; it was difficult to hunt down supplies while shivering. 

The rain was still unforgiving, however, as it always was in London -- at least that hasn’t changed. Everything else has. The witch became quiet the past month, quieter. She helped McGonagall as best she could to secure the castle and eradicate the dead ones which turned out to be grueling and took a lot of time, energy, and combined efforts. Hagrid, Fang, and Merlin moved into the castle before a large, impenetrable force field of several spells and highly complicated magic was set around the perimeter of both the castle itself and the forest. Prue and Hagrid made sure the forest was secure and devoid of all possible dead ones before they locked that down too. Nothing was getting in or out of that area for the moment. McGonagall all but begged Prue to stay at the castle, telling her that they’d figure out how to get her home from within it safety several times but Prue knew all too well that sitting idle would result in absolutely nothing. She couldn’t stay inside anymore and just hope to get back. Waiting around wasn’t an option and planning without actually knowing what was going on outside wasn’t feasible any longer. Prue wanted to do so many things, check on the Weasleys and the Potters, get into the Ministry somehow, but above all, she needed to get home to her husband, her newborn, and her mother--her family. A pain twinged her chest every time she thought about them; about Poppy and how much she was missing with her. the girl was growing up without her mother and Prue didn’t even know where she was. She didn’t know how long her hair had gotten or how big she was getting. If her eyes were still that bright green or her hair still strawberry blonde. If her hands were still so tiny they could barely wrap around Danny’s finger. She was missing all of it. Every sound, every cry, everything. It haunted her knowing that Poppy was forgetting the sound of her voice by the day. She probably wouldn’t remember her at all soon. Would she be angry with her later on? Would she feel abandoned? Would she blame Prue for not being there? Prue certainly did...she should have been at home with her daughter at the very beginning of all of this. She should be there protecting her, keeping her safe. Poppy was barely three months old and here she was, already failing as a mother. Just like she feared when she found out that she was pregnant in the first place. Prue knew she was never cut out for motherhood and clearly she was right. She didn’t even know where her daughter was let alone what she even looked like now. 

When she was alone at night, she’d tried to get premonitions, hoping to see her family--to see her daughter. She tried to invoke them and did spells...she was almost successful once, but she only caught flashes and her other, full premonitions came in her already patchy sleep. They never showed her what she wanted to see. She only saw images of death and chaos. Sadness and killing. Every day grew more dismal and it was getting clearer each second that Prue was utterly alone. She traveled the streets by herself, fighting off the dead alone, and orbing away when there was too many to handle solo. She’d always felt like an outcast and her anxieties always led her to believe that she was better off alone but this...this wandering about without a soul was painstakingly lonely. Despite the fact that she missed her family and friends so deeply that it hurt, the loneliness was enough to drive anyone mad. She tried not to let it get to her though, as she had to stay in her right mind to get back to her family. 

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Nightmares mixing with premonitions mixing with memories kept the witch from sleeping more often these days. Maybe for the better, since she was alone out here. She’d made the mistake of trusting a local recently, only to be burned by that decision when that muggle and her partner tried to kill her and steal her weapons. Prue had to freeze and tie them up. She wondered after leaving if it was worse to leave them bound and tethered as opposed to a more merciful fate? They were dangerous but had they deserved to be fed to the dead ones? To be honest, Prue didn’t have the time nor the energy to spare thinking on it. She’d gotten away from them and for now, they wouldn’t be able to harm anyone else. Prue had more pressing things on her mind than two nutters trying to pirate their way about. She heard them talking about using her as live bait anyway so her conscious felt less heavy in the long run. 

Sitting upright after another exhausting nightmare, she pushed herself up against the wall behind her and breathed deeply. She swore she’d never cried so much in her life as she had the past months. Even growing up, Prue only cried in private but never for very long. Perhaps being raised by Minerva had planted that trait. Making a fuss wouldn’t change things, she’d tell the young witch. Cry if you must, but remember that actions prove more productive than tears. She was right, too. Prue had never seen much use in crying. Of course there were exceptions-- deaths of her loved ones, obviously. Sometimes, Prue held on a little too tightly to her pride during the day around other people. At night, when she was alone ,she’d cry involuntarily when the stress got too heavy for her. It seemed that habit didn’t quite stop either because here she was, alone at night, crying without any sign on stopping any time soon. Her head feel back against the wooden panel of the shed she holed up in for the night and she wanted to keep hitting her head against it..but that would create too much noise and attract attention. So she just sat there, in the dark, silently weeping until the sun reappeared. 

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Living day to day with a dagger in her hand, checking over her shoulder with every other breath became routine for the witch. She was exhausted and her will to keep going was becoming shredded by the day. It was becoming more hopeless with each failed attempt at getting home. But she knew that she had to keep going. She tried everything from scrying to vision quests to orbing regardless of the obvious futility of doing so. She’d land flat on her ass as many times as she had to if it meant getting home, or closer to it. 

“Take this, child. Yeh’ll need it.”  Prue shook her head, refusing the weapon. “No, I..I don’t want that. I can’t--”  “Yeh must. It’s not a question, dearie, take it.” The older man pushed it at her persistently.  She took a step back, lowering her voice. “Are you mad? I.. Those aren’t even legal here. Where did you even get it?”  The man pulled Prue’s hand from her mouth (where she’d been chewing her nails furiously) and shoved the gun into her palm. The metal stung her skin and she threatened to drop it until he firmly wrapped her fingers around it. “I told you, I don’t want this. I--I’m a pacifist.” Half pacifist but still.. Even the knife her father gave her as a teen was for emergencies and demons -- not for harm. Halliwells also had a habit of finding themselves tied up in the past. She never had teh desire to even hold a gun, let alone use one. “I can see t’at child, but t’a world ain’t what she was before. T’ese t’ings, not human. An’ t’at little kinfe a’ yours won’t always be enough.”  “I don’t understand. Why are you helping me? Why do you care?”  He chuckled and gestured around them with his index finger. “Dearie, we can’t do t’ings wit’out people these days especially. T’ere’s strength in numbers, would yeh not agree? T’ey got a hitch on us righ’ now, oh, sure. But we’ll get ‘em, we will.” “Don’t you think that’s a bit..naive? They’re strong..and fearless.” “My dear, a little fear is good fer surviv’n. Keeps up on our toes. Keeps us human.” “I don’t even know how to use this,” “Yeh’ll learn. Yeh have t’a.” A defeated sigh left the witch’s lips. “Thank you, I suppose.” He nodded. “Don’t t’ank me just yet, child. T’ank me when yer home wit’ t’at husband and daughter’a yers.” He smiled and pointed at the gun in her hand. “Let’s get ya two acquainted, shall we?” Prue hesitantly agreed and target practice began. 

to be continued... 

Tethered AU (Us spoilers)

Saw Us, loved it, had this idea kicking around in my head for two trolls and wanted to get it out with my precious half hour of free time.

I FINALLY saw Us, after about a million years of wanting to, and I’ve gotta say that I’m surprised that we haven’t gotten any Cherubs for this concept yet. I hope we get some. But anyways this is a FANTASTIC troll. I honestly probably won’t have much to say besides praise throughout this review, because like… yeah.

AU Details:

Deliberately kept sketchy since the movie didn’t elaborate much either.

The Tethered live in sea-accessible caves on a conquered planet of the Condesce’s. The result of a seadweller experiment that involved deliberately splitting an egg and taking one of the resulting trolls belowground and injecting them liberally with burgundy blood in the hopes of forging a psychic link through which their aboveground counterpart could be controlled. Unfortunately, since this experiment was largely carried out with upper class bluebloods, their Tethered were psychically susceptible to the link and instead found themselves helplessly puppeted around. Disheartened, the seadwellers abandoned their monstrous experiment, that they might at least serve as adequate food to the feral lusii that lived in the abandoned breeding caverns.

Troll 1: RADIMA AVISCH

Jordan Peele was clearly trying to go for a “Red Queen” thing with the two women’s names, so I created Radima’s first name from Romanch for “queen.” Her second name comes from “giavisch,” the Romanch word for “desire,” which is one of the meanings of Adelaide’s married name, Wilson.

Queen of Desire is a great name for this character and a character inspired by Adelaide in general. One of my favorite parts of the movie was definitely the dual sympathy and criticism of Adelaide and this hits that note well. 

Age: 18 Sweeps

Strife Specibus: pokerkind

Also kicks like Joey’s in Hiveswap.

Fetch Modus: PAS DE DEUX

Items must be put in two at a time and can only be retrieved as such. Sometimes items will “trade partners” and eject with a different one than it started with (the reasoning for new pairings is unknown).

Blood color: Mutated teal

Has burgundyblood psychic susceptibility, theoretically.

Symbol and meaning:

Teal bunny based vaguely off Limini, Bergun’s original sign.

Something like this maybe? 

LIMINI - THE ABIDER 

To abide, of course, meaning to acquiesce your will… Very fitting.  Trolltag: therandomMinornote [TM]

In the trailer, Adelaide’s snapping is a little off in rhythm, which is odd since she’s a ballerina. Radima, similarly, does not fit in, and it shows in the fact that her trolltag’s cadene doesn’t match the traditional two-word format. It’s from a lyric of Janelle Monae’s “I Like That,” which appears on the Us soundtrack and is itself a nod to duality and varying from the norm. Furthermore, the abbreviation [TM] is once again her trying to mark herself as sufficiently “real.”

Quirk: Sorry, I’m not one for small talk.

Only odd in that she has no quirk at all. It unsettles other trolls.

Special Abilities (if any):

Passive psychic link to Bergun in which Bergun is propelled around is Radima’s emotions are sufficiently elevated. Potentially an example of a “success” from the previously mentioned experiment.

Lusus: A massive wolpertinger.

Radima seemed distant from it every since an incident in which she wandered off at about 3 sweeps old, and flinched whenever she saw it. Seemed palpably relieved when it was killed by another, bigger lusus.

Personality:

Warm and loving to those she trusts, friendly but reserved to those she doesn’t. Radima seems to lack the zeal for widespread social change characteristic of her fellow tealbloods. She prefers to keep to herself and moderate a local library, where she can help others learn of the world she calls home.

Interests:

Ballet, books, music, gardening. Has a very strong aversion to water and the beach.

Title: Thief of Life

Pretty self-explanatory; she knocked out and replaced Bergun when they were 3 sweeps old. While she keeps to herself, she is relentlessly driven.

I am almost tempted to make the obvious Heart-Mind suggestion considering the fact that those are more related to concepts of identity than Life and Doom, but Bergun/Red definitely are so community-motivated that they sidestep the internalized issues/struggle of Heart-Mind. Life is about essence and growth and she did steal Bergun’s developmental energy very literally, so it’s Fair And Fitting. that’s a lot of words to say I agree. 

Land: Land of Smoke and Mirrors (LOSAM)

The land is full of references to magic, from puzzle-like mirrors to adorable fluffy bunnies. The fumes threaten to choke her if she doesn’t figure out how to restore life to the planet to sap it of its excess carbon dioxide.

Dream Planet: Prospit

Radima could not think of a way to live a happy life without hurting another, and the resulting fear is directly because she cannot believe it was a destiny she was allowed to thwart. She knows that Bergun MUST come for her.

Appearance:

Radima uses black and teal in excessive amounts, as if to say “how do you do, fellow tealbloods???”

Troll 2: BERGUN ZWILIG

She named herself. A short version of Burgundy (the blood color she’s believed to have), AND one of the names of a former Swiss municipality (Bergun/Bravuogn), a double-named place. Last name derived from the German word for “twin,” which may seem on the nose but Adelaide’s maiden name is “Thomas,” which means the same thing in Aramaic.

She presumably named herself, which makes it seem even more likely that she would think to pick something obvious like Another Word For Twin. 

Age: 18 sweeps

Strife Specibus: scissorkind

Fetch Modus: NUTCRACKER

She needs to crack the cards open, which puts captcha cards at a worrying premium. If she exerts too much force she may also damage the item inside in addition to the card itself. Bee – caarefuul –

Blood color: Teal

Presents as burgundy, same as the other Tethered.

Symbol and meaning:

Burgundy bunny based vaguely off Arsci, Radima’s original sign

Something like- 

ARSCI - THE MEDIC

That’s a fun one. 

Trolltag: distonicInsurgent [DI]

Both a reference to her dystonic voice and her dystopic circumstances. Insurgent is obvious but it also carries the root for rising up, which is great.

Quirk: Oonce – uupoon – aa – time –

Doubles audible vowels and breaks up her words with harsh breaths.

Special Abilities (if any):

Passive psychic link to Radima. Unclear if there’s any utility there.

Lusus: None but the feral, flayed rabbit lusii that roam the caverns.

The serve as effective guards, terrifying caretakers, and – if one can get the jump on one – a wholesome meal. They’re a reference to the Hare of Inuyaba, who used deception to cross what should have been an uncrossable barrier and was flayed alive when the deception was revealed. The actual myth resolves with the rabbit being healed after someone showed it kindness, but in this case it only serves to highlight the brutality of the underground.

Personality:

Bergun was born aboveground and continues to be a tealblood to her bones, inciting rebellion with harsh and terrifying speeches.

Interests:

Murder, ballet, sewing (making the jumpsuits for herself and the other insurgents is extremely grounding for her because it’s one of the few things she has that has nothing to do with Radima), sign language (a specific one crafted by the Tethered, unmappable to existing Alternian languages)

She also has a love for Rebellion. And maybe fantasy stories. One of the things Red clings onto is stories from her childhood, since she isn’t given the chance to read any more after she is taken, presumably. You could probably give her a love for that, too. Storytelling. 

Title: Page of Doom

Once again, self explanatory. Bergun was dragged underground by Radima, and while she herself was subjected to doom, she allowed it to simmer for 15 sweeps before the resulting backlash erupted from underground. She is herself the inevitable force Radima fears so much.

Land: Land of Tethers and Tightropes (LOTAT)

In a cruel twist of fate, Bergun’s land is covered in ropes, which are stretched across cliffs high above the valleys below, the Land so covered in fog that she can’t see the bottom. This is the highest above ground she’ll ever be. But is the quickest way to reach the denizen by cutting the rope and seeing where the fall takes her?

Dream Planet: Derse

Which she herself is a destiny for Radima, Bergun’s own arc is about rejecting the rules put in place for how the Tethered ought to behave.

Appearance:

I was just thinking the burgundy jumpsuit, and the same sprite as Radima’s but for fatigued, but I am very open to suggestions!

I love all of this and as I said, I feel like I didn’t have many suggestions. This is just an all around great troll and a fantastic interpretation of the characters in Us. Thank you for sharing!

-CD