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#i thought it was fine to be ironically misogynistic sometimes...

i-didnt-do-1t · 6 months

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“Hey ma”

Cw; mentions of suicide, misogynistic language

The hip flask hadn’t left Oscar’s hand since he got to the outskirts of the city, he was fairly sure; it has hard to remember, blurry, but the cap was still twisted off as he brought it to his mouth for another swig.

The entire trek from the outskirts of the city to the graveyard was blurry, if he was being honest, not quite blackout, he remembered stumbling once or twice, remembered muttering a swear or two under his breath, but he didn’t remember reaching the small hip high gate he was stopped in front of. He was lurched over it slightly, holding himself up.

The world spun, he took another drink, and it didn’t burn as he swallowed.

The gate creaked as Oscar pushed it open, loud amongst the quiet of the graveyard, and it was ironic Oscar thought, amid the haze of thoughts and non-thoughts and ever present beating anger, that for how far he didn’t believe in god, he did believe in ghosts.

Maybe it was because he lived with Morris, who let his hair grow too long sometimes so it shadowed his face, the same way ma’s always was, her hairy greasy and chopped cut when she could be bothered.

Maybe it was because he’d see himself in the mirror in their hall sometimes, the one he’d moved out of their bedroom. Pausing to stare at his da for a second in the moments when he’d not shaved that morning or wore a shirt da’s favourite colour. When he caught his reflection and the frown between his brow that da always had when he was frustrated, that never smoothed out.

Oscar didn’t remember getting from the gate to the chipped stone of ma’s grave, but he was stood in front of it, swaying slightly, which didn’t make sense, the ground shouldn’t be moving. He blinked hard, once, in an attempt to reset his gaze, to make everything stop moving.

His grip tightened on his flask, he felt the cross engraving against his finger. Wondered if he pressed hard enough, whether it would indent the shape into his skin.

“Hey ma.”

She didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

The world tipped to the side again and he found himself with a hand on her gravestone, a kind word for the rock dug into the ground above her, holding himself up.

“Fuck.”

Slowly, not letting go of the stone, he lowered himself to the ground, legs crossed under him.

He realised, with a mild curiosity, that he couldn’t feel them no more.

“How’re you ma?”

He was answered with silence, filled it with another swig of whiskey.

“I’m doin’ fine. I think. Ain’t sure why I’m here.”

He paused for a moment, then snorted, “both know why you’re here though.”

His curled lip turned to a frown as he noticed rivulets of red running down the stone, blank and smooth, nothin etched in cause da didn’t have either the money or enough fucks to get it engraved. Oscar couldn’t blame him; But the blood confused him till he lifted his hand away, it was sharp at the edges, and he knew logically the cut on his palm he was staring at should’ve hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything right now.

The bloodied handprint on his ma’s empty grave stone felt oddly appropriate too, like it made sense there were was something there finally, even if it would be washed off next time it rained.

He stared down at the thin slice across his palm, at the beading blood smeared across his fingers, dripping down to his wrist. Then back at the stone

“Bet you did tha’ on purpose, fuckin’ bitch.” He wiped the blood off on his trouser thigh, “ain’t enough that you’re fuckin’ hauntin’ us huh? Gotta, do bullshit like this too.”

His voice was the only disturbance to the graveyard, it was a quiet night, no wind, even the city from a distance seemed like it was sleeping, as much as it ever was.

“Can’t tell Morris I see you sometimes, he’d think I’m crazy, like you, like him. But you’re there, ain’t you. You gotta be.”

Everything blurred again, the cold hit him like Snyder’s cane, like da’s backhand.

“S’fuckin stupid.” He mumbled into his flask, into the air, “comin’ up here. Maybe I oughtta climb into the plot next to you huh ma. You’d hate that wouldn’t you.”

He searched his pocket with his free hand for a cigarette, it took him four attempts before his hand landed in his pocket, another few before he grabbed a smoke and didn’t drop it,

“But Mo, can’t be buried here,” he continued, “N’less he kills himself.”

He lit the cigarette, lay back, noticed the ground was damp, the grass tickling at the back of his neck, but didn’t move.

“Don’t tell no one I said that. But I ain’t anythin’ in gods eyes already, so they could dump my body here n’ no one would give a shit. But you- you already know that better n’ anyone.”

#newsies #the delancey brothers #oscar delancey

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nerdby · 3 months

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One of the reasons why I get so easily triggered by seeing male celebrities being objectified is because when I was on T, I dealt with a lot of chasers. They didn't want me for me. They wanted me because I was trans. They saw me as a toy. Another thing I experienced a lot was that if I mentioned a female celebrity I had a crush on I was accused of being a misogynistic asshole who only existed to objectify women.

And as fucked up as it is, it took me dealing with chasers to realize why that's awful. Like I was a misogynistic asshole, I admit it. I still am in some ways because I am trying to unlearn that behavior -- I mean, I'm only fucking human. I think I've gotten better. I hope so. Part of the problem is that because I grew up with media that was full of women who liked to be objectified and those women were celebrated -- Mean Girls, Totally Spies, That 70s Show, She's All That. I was taught that if people aren't drooling over you, you're trash. I thought that people -- not just women -- enjoyed being objectified.

Some people do, but it has become increasingly obvious that a lot of people do not. Including celebrities. Male AND female celebrities. Like the internet is so full of people publicly sexualizing and humiliating celebrities just because they fucking can.

Why, because you think they're pretty?

I thought the women of the world had agreed -- it's demeaning to sexualize and objectify someone against their will.

Whatever happened to treating people how you want to be treated? If you wouldn't be okay with being objectified especially in a REAL LIFE PUBLIC FORUM -- meaning in person -- then why do it to someone else?

And for the record I am fine with smutty fanfiction. I have written smutty fanfiction. It's just annoying when EVERY fanfiction is a smut fic, that's all, and it kinda seems like that's all people write sometimes. Here, on AO3, FF.Net, ect. And it's been like that for years.

And like have fun, write all the smut you want, jerk off to the Iron Man movies or whatever. I don't care.

But celebrities and men are still people. They're not toys. They're not sex dolls.

And if you only care about Marvel or comic book movies in general cause you think the characters are hot then you're missing out. On great characters and great stories. And if you only ever write smut fanfiction.....Then great. There's nothing wrong with that.

Except you'll only ever write smut fanfiction.

If you're an aspiring author you will never improve your craft by only writing one genre. So if you have a bigger story you want to tell then you should. I'm not saying don't write sex scenes. Write all the sex scenes you want. Just don't make that the whole story, ya know? You have to branch out to improve.

I'm also working through some personal trauma. I'm lucky enough to have had both male and female abusers throughout my life, and sometimes it feels like I'm not allowed to talk about the trauma that I experienced with female abusers. That's not a great feeling. It's not healthy.

If I seem like an asshole sometimes, that's why. Because bottling up your emotions isn't healthy, and I'm learning how to share again. And it's not easy and.....Yeah.

But by all means don't let a nerdy prude ruin your fun.

Yeah, I know about that tag, and I'm not going anywhere👌🏻

0 notes

zoud · 4 years

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Not So Green With Envy

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word count: 2,675 / Warnings: bondage but no sex, abandonment, angst

____________________________

You and Beetlejuice were not dating. He made that fact very clear to you every time you even thought to use the "b" word (boyfriend) around him, once going as far as to snap your mouth shut with a bit of demonic flare that had your guts coiled tighter than a set spring.

It didn't bother you enough to cut off the relationship, however.

Beetlejuice liked you, and you liked him; at least in a sense perhaps more complicated than the typical mutual reception of romantic feelings, given how he responded to titles. You could come home from a long day and say his name in the same cadence as any familiar mantra is said, and he would hang out with you, watch a movie, eat pizza, and/or roughly pin you against any and all surfaces in the apartment. For him, you supposed, it was all fun and games; low risk, high reward.

But you wanted something more than that. He might have an eternity to blow, but you had just graduated college and your life wasn't exactly set on a path ad infinitum. It didn't feel so wrong, then, to accept the pitch of a blind date from a coworker—to search for something more sustainable in the long term. That was how you ended up with date plans on a Wednesday night, with work in the morning, and Beetlejuice angrier than the time you threw his suit jacket in with the wash and "ruined its vintage feel."

You and your mysterious date were set to meet up at eight o'clock that evening in front of a local movie theater, and you arrived at a quarter 'til.

Sitting on a bench outside while waiting, you rubbed the sore circle around your wrist where Beetlejuice had grabbed as you tried to leave. It was impossible not to notice how upset he was about the prospect of your date, but he was upset by a lot of things and you knew if the date didn't go too well he would still be home for you to return to. It wasn't fair for him to be upset, anyways. He had gone to great lengths to make it clear he "couldn't be tied down," but all that meant to you was there were some cracks in your relationship he felt the need to fill elsewhere.

You slouched on the bench and rested your chin in your hand, elbow propped against your knee. The date had seemed like a good idea, you had fought for it, but now that you were actually here, the static buzz of anticipation had dulled into stale acknowledgement. You checked the time, 8:05, and wondered how much of tonight was just you trying to get petty revenge. If you weren't enough for him, then why should he be enough for you?

"Hello?" You shot up, startled, and the man in front of you tensed. "Oh, sorry; I thought you might've been my blind date."

You smoothed out your top and laughed in a way you hoped was apologetic. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you blinked slowly and looked up to meet the man's eyes.

"Adrian? It's nice to meet you! You didn't make a mistake, don't worry, I guess I just zoned out."

He smiled and nodded once, seemingly in contemplation, before turning and walking into the theater. You were surprised he hadn't wanted to chat a bit more, but he was a little late and the movie was going to start soon. Instead of dwelling, you followed suit inside, a little put off as the door nearly closed on you.

The movie was loud and boring, an action flick that felt more like an attempt to make money than contribute anything culturally significant or genuinely entertaining to the franchise. Still, you kept your eyes on the screen, choosing not to fight your brain when it tried to carry you away.

You wondered what Beetlejuice was up to. After he had grabbed your wrist, which you were back to rubbing idly, you had sent him away to make your life a little easier. He had mentioned a sort of other world he lives in sometimes, boasting proudly about dual-citizenship and green cards, but all you knew for sure was that wherever that was, it wasn't here; as your date made a snide comment about one of the female leads, you sort of wished it were.

The movie ended about an hour too late and it was clear your date disagreed. He seemed to have enjoyed the movie well enough, but was having even more fun complaining about aspects of it you would never care to notice.

"-and what was with that girls outfit?" he droned on, "What's the point of casting attractive actresses and then making them cover up all the things that make them attractive. Like, seriously, she was in jeans half the movie."

You looked down and your outfit uncomfortably, running a hand absentmindedly against the blue denim of your own jeans. Adrian might've noticed, but didn't say anything about it.

"Well it's getting late, I should probably get home soon," you said, taking out your phone to check the time so you wouldn't have to look at him while you said it.

"Oh?" He was smiling now, somewhere between happy and unsettling. "I should walk you; it isn't safe for a fine young lady to walk home alone."

One hand grazed your upper arms and the other went straight to your ass, which you shifted quickly away from. He couldn't possibly be serious, and you gave him a dubious look that hopefully said as much. For as thick as Adrian seemed, he caught on quick, if his anger meant anything.

"Oh, seriously? I should've known you were a prude." He was sneering now, leaning over you as if to emphasize the height advantage. "I should've left the second I saw you. All I was looking for was a good lay, and what? You seriously expected a guy like me to be interested in you for anything else? Wake up, bitch."

With that, he stalked away.

You didn't remember the walk home by the time you got to your apartment door, and you counted yourself lucky for it. Your date might've been a misogynistic asshole, but he was right about one thing—the door clicked when you locked it, and your bed squeaked beneath the weight of your back—you really weren't good for anything but a quick lay.

Your eyes stung, but the pain was dry, and although your uneven breathing suggested otherwise it was easy to tell yourself that you weren't bothered; to dismiss the guy as just another asshole in a too-small town. Still, your ego writhed as it shrunk, and you weren't in the mood to contemplate how worthless a single comment could make you feel. Instead, you rubbed your eyes a little too hard and opened your mouth to speak.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

And with that, he appeared.

His hair was darker than you would've liked, a little on the brown side as red mixed with green and created a murky swamp of obvious discontent. You did your best to ignore the pit in your stomach as he looked down at you with a deep frown.

"Hey, Beej," you tried weakly, only a little surprised by the cold greeting, more so by the silence.

"How was your 'date'?" He spat, choking out the word as if it were a damnation aimed in your direction.

"Fine," you brushed off, not wanting to admit that maybe he was right, maybe had been all along. "How was your night?"

Beetlejuice climbed into bed with you and planted a knee on either side of your torso. He licked his lips as he leaned down to graze your ear.

"Better now."

You smiled a little, relieved he wasn't giving you the silent treatment or putting a hole through your wall. Still, red peppered the tips of his hair and you tentatively reached up to touch it.

"Ah, ah," he grabbed your wrist again, action a little too rough to match the soft manner in which he scolded you, and with even less care, yanked the wrist up to your bed frame.

"Beej-?" you began to question, tugging gently at his grip, more to test the strength then try and escape. Iron-clad. You gulped.

He laughed and snapped with his free hand; suddenly you were bound to the bed, hands high above your head. It wasn't the first time, but you still struggled a bit.

"I don't know if-"

He cut you off with his lips over yours, licking a small stripe across your bottom lip.

"Come on, babes," his voice was low; measured and calm in a way that felt exceedingly unfamiliar. "Trust me."

It was silent for a minute. You tried to think, but your brain was radio static. If it really was all you're good for, there wasn't much to lose. You nodded.

Suddenly, your feet were spread apart and given the same treatment as your hands, stretching you near the full length of your bed. Beetlejuice still looked above you, the calculated smile he wore increasingly disconcerting as time went on. You tugged at the restraints again. They had no give to them, taut even as you shifted. They were metal, a realization you made rather quickly, the cold surface unforgiving as it bit into your skin. You stopped wriggling and returned your attention to Beetlejuice.

"You look amazing tied up like that babes," his voice was raspy—even more than normal. He pulled two strips of cloth out from his jacket and you probably would've been impressed by their cleanliness were you not preoccupied. He snaked the fabric under your head and brought the strips around, one at a time.

The first piece went around your mouth, friction mildly uncomfortable against your chapped lips. He kissed you through the fabric and laughed when you tried to reciprocate. The sound brought some semblance of comfort, and you didn't fight it when the second strip was tied over your eyes.

The last thing you saw as Beetlejuice finished the knot was red hair.

Your bed shifted as Beetlejuice stood up from it, mattress groaning until it had the opportunity to settle out again. What felt like a couple minutes passed silently, and you strained to hear the demon breathe. It seemed, however, he was deciding not to.

Thinking you had been left alone, your heartbeat quickened and suddenly being tied up wasn't quite so bearable. You tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself, but the cloth restricted your breathing just enough as to make it uncomfortable.

"I know babes," you heard a mockingly happy voice announce from across the room. "I don't like being hung out to dry either."

Panic quelled in your chest as your bedroom door clicked shut, breath quickening to the point of burying an ache deep in your lungs, dry and scratchy as you inhaled the lingering dust ingrained in the fabric against your mouth. You rubbed hard at the restraints, knowing full well they wouldn't give in for you, not if Beetlejuice wanted them to stay in place.

The metal wasn't quite so cold anymore, having sucked warmth from your body to heat the surface, but it bit all the same. You stilled your wrists to prevent the skin from actually breaking, eyes moving rapidly from behind the blindfold.

You should've known better than to expect anything else. The man you summoned today wasn't the Beetlejuice you knew, at least, not a part of him that you had ever met before. You had seen him mad, hair fiery red and practically glowing with the heat emitting from his usually cold body, seen him scream and shatter mirrors, punch holes in walls and leave singed footprints in your carpet that smell like burned fiber and sulfur. You had gotten the silent treatment before, only once, when you hadn't summoned him for a week because of final exams, wanting to give you a taste of how it felt to be ignored. But not anything like this.

Realization dawned on you and settled as an additional weight against your stomach that only made it harder to breath. That's what he had meant; left out to dry. Tears gathered in your eyes and dampened the fabric against them. You wanted to be angrier, but this really was your fault, wasn't it? You left him alone, trapped wherever the hell he was, and he was only returning the favor.

It was getting hard to stay awake, exhaustion and panic blending into a sickening paste that caught in your throat and had lights dancing in your vision: or lack thereof.

The last thing you remember thinking before passing out was whether restricting your breathing was accidental, or just another part of him showing you how he feels.

Waking up didn't dawn an acceptance for your situation, but rather renewed the initial panic of being bound and abandoned.

You woke with a start and tried to shoot into a sitting position, but succeeded only in tugging your shoulder so hard it might as well have dislocated. You screamed in pain and shock from behind the gag and gave another sharp tug at the metal cuffs stupidly, as if it proved anything. The metal was almost slick now from your sweat, near hot to the touch, and you wondered helplessly if you could slip out.

Trying to remain otherwise still and failing miserably, you pulled hard on the arm that didn't quite hurt so much, nearly sobbing in relief when you felt the smallest hint of give around your hand. Slowly, painfully, you worked your hand out, moving carefully until the metal decided to bite back.

A particularly sharp edge sunk its teeth into your hand, pinching the skin back and tearing it messily. You made another sound, quieter still as adrenaline pumped through your body and made the pain bearable. Blood—slick like motor oil and equally metallic—dripped from the cut and to your morbid delight, allowed you to slip your hand free easily.

Just as soon as your hand was free, you heard your door fly open and slam into the wall. You heard drywall break and pieces of it fall back into the hidden space between rooms. You heard breathing, labored and panicked, and genuinely struggled to tell whether it was yours.

God, Beetlejuice was mad wasn't he? He had set up a punishment for you, drastic and over dramatic as it was, and caught you in the act of breaking free. You quaked against your mattress, free hand dripping and shoulder aching, tears soaking through the blindfold. You heard footsteps approach quickly, tensing before a thud sounded next to your bed.

Suddenly, hands were working at the fabric around your head and you could breathe again. You gasped for a full breath of air and a moment later you could see.

Beetlejuice was on his knees beside your bed, pale as snow and hair so blue it was practically black, deep like the jagged chasms lining the ocean floor. You screwed your eyes shut, the dawn blue light filtering in through the window too much for your eyes. The bed sunk with a sudden excess of additional weight and as a snap sounded, your tense limbs sagged bonelessly onto the mattress for the first time in hours.

"...babes?"

You opened your eyes, and hated yourself for being relieved his hair was still blue. The demon shifted so he was straddling you, all gentleness and caution until you flinched away from him. Beetlejuice laughed; an awful, watery sound. He looked at your wrists, skin red and angry, then at your blood-slick hand.

"Oh, I've really fucked up this time, haven't I doll?" He shifted a little further away but didn't get off the bed. From how he was looking at you, it might've been impossible for him to do otherwise.

You cradled your bloody hand close to your chest and saw the Beetlejuice you knew sitting close enough to touch, though you'd never quite felt further away.

He was on his knees now, taller than you but not towering, and clearly at a loss for what to do. It was silent, but only for a minute.

"I could smell him on you."

You smiled weakly. Your shoulder didn't ache quite so much any more and although the adrenaline was wearing off, your hand didn't hurt unbearably. Looking at the cut, it really wasn't all too bad, not enough to need stitches anyways. You scooted closer to the wall your bed was pushed up against and patted the spot next to you.

The demon didn't miss a beat. He was beside you in an instant, dirty hand hovering just above your uninjured one. He cleared his throat and moved to place it next to yours on the mattress.

You forced yourself to lean into him a little, let him know it was okay, but it was obvious he could feel how tense you were.

"It's okay that you don't want to date me," you whispered, trying to keep dejection from leaking into your tone.

He didn't respond verbally, instead sitting up straight and stiff like a soldier called to attention. With a sigh, you lay back a bit more, relaxing into the demon's side.

"I wouldn't want to date me either."

Getting pulled fully into his chest wasn't a memory you had as much as the knowledge that it must've happened given how you were suddenly sat in between his legs.

"Babes, you know I don't hate you, right?"

Instead of responding, you looked dubiously at the bright red rings around your wrists and tried to ignore how you shoulder twitched. Feeling defeated, you let your forehead fall against Beetlejuice's chest and took an uneven breath.

"Yeah," he mumbled into your scalp, letting his chin rest atop your head. "I guess I'm not making too good a case for myself, am I?" His tone lifted at the end as if to imply a joke, but his voice shook with sincerity. "I wanted you to know what it felt like to get left behind. I guess I was hoping you'd see how bad it was and…"

He trailed off and you mumbled into his chest, "And never do it to you again?"

Beetlejuice pulled back a bit, separating your head from his chest, and took hold of your chin. The move wasn't quite so suave, rough around the edges and a little awkward because of your position, but he craned his neck and kissed you anyways.

"You're too good for me, ya know that?"

Feeling a little less uneasy, exhaustion began to nibble at the edges of your consciousness. You tried to kiss him again, but missed just so and caught instead the corner of his lips.

"More than a fucktoy?"

If you were thinking a little clearer, those words wouldn't have left your lips. You wouldn't have seen Beetlejuice look down at you with shock scrawled around his widened eyes or the guilt and concern that creased the space in between his brows. For a second, you thought your slip up would be the start of a conversation you absolutely didn't want to have right now, and relief flooded your body when instead of taking the comment and running with it, the demon just curled around you a little tighter.

"Of course, doll," he mumbled softly. "More than that. Always."

You fell asleep soon after, and the last thing you remember thinking was how badly you missed when his green hair.

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice #betelgeuse #female reader

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kthomaslumen · 5 years

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The battle of winter fell flat

Setting aside several good points made last night, and without diving into the implications for the remainder of the season, the actual Battle of Winterfell was DEEPLY unsatisfying.

I kept turning to the friend I was watching with and asking “WHAT is this battle plan?!” because it just made no sense. You dug an entire trench around Winterfell but only made it six feet wide? And only far enough from the castle to protect NOBODY within its boundaries?

You sent the Dothraki off alone to die for... what reason? To “draw them out” and force the Army of the Dead to march on the castle? We just spent seven seasons figuring out how to get the Dothraki and their horses across the Narrow Sea and they’re wiped out in a visually interesting if oddly distant massacre. Fine, the world is terrible and sometimes bad things happen to the good guys (they were misogynistic assholes who probs didn’t have a place in Westeros long-term, but STILL).

Only, once you’d handed over 20,000 new recruits for the dead and they’d charged all the way back to the Unsullied, NOW you decide to bring out the dragons and fricassee some zombies? But not in any kind of coordinated strafing runs, and not along the front lines where they’re attacking your men. Dany and Jon just randomly sweep the back nine for a bit. Cool.

The Night King’s Snowpocalypse was a good counter-tactic and rightfully knocked Dany and Jon out of being helpful, except, no, wait, Jon lands back on the wall of the Godswood, and just... hangs out? For a bit? While Davos frantically signals for Dany to light the trench (which, as I’ve said, we light too late and at a distance that is unable to save anyone, really. WHY WASN’T EVERYONE BEHIND THE TRENCH okay anywho). Turn around, Davos. Jon is just sitting there atop his own ignitor doing fuck all.

Once the dead reach the walls, it disintegrates into truly understandable chaos. There wasn’t much they were going to be able to do once there are zombies in the yard. Though I’m not sure where all of the North went, exactly? Once they retreated into the castle? Since Arya went running through a dozen empty halls. Is Winterfell bigger on the inside?

And what the holy hell, Bran. Why warg at all? Chekov’s gun is screaming at me right now (don’t get me started on Tyrion lamenting that he’d be helpful up top and then... they just don’t do anything with that (I’m glad to see Glen Weldon at NPR also thought we were going to get a murder-suicide pact from Tyrion and Sansa (I yelled at the TV “Don’t go out too early! Learn from the ending of The Mist!”))). I kept thinking Bran was going to have some secret trick, that he had flitted off somewhere to learn or do something and he’d have the deus ex machina to resolve it.

Not that I’m complaining about the Arya of it all, that was PRETTY GREAT (and the symmetry of the Blade that started the War of the Five Kings coming full circle to end the Night King is perfect).

But this leads me to the actual problem at the root of all of this complaining:

There was nothing narratively satisfying about this episode. We didn’t have any sense for what the strategy was, and so there weren’t feints and attacks that succeeded or failed that we were invested in.

When you watch a Heist movie, the joy is in learning about Plan A, watching Plan A fall apart, and being surprised and impressed that there were actually Plans B-D each of which succeed or fail. But ultimately the stakes and tension come from your understanding of what is and isn’t working.

This wasn’t a well-executed battle plan from the Living. This wasn’t a case of experienced commanders setting up a plan that fails to account for the tactics or overwhelming numbers of the Dead. There were no moments of “OH they knew this wouldn’t work, that was a feint, now they’re doing something else and OH MAN that’s failing too because they’ve never faced an enemy like this.”

And even if the intention of the writers was “look how entirely hopeless this is for the Living, they are well and truly fucked no matter what,” there are ways to do it that don’t make the Living look like total knobs. If I’m on my couch formulating better battle strategies on the fly and yelling them at the TV, Jamie and Brienne and Davos should be planning better.

Why send out the Dothraki alone? Why not goad them into action with the Trebuchets? Why didn’t you have entire flanks of soldiers hidden in the woods to the east and west to attack the flanks of the dead? Why weren’t you strafing the dead with dragons once the trench was lit? Why weren’t you strafing the dead with dragons as they marched toward your front line? Why weren’t archers on the wall igniting the stationary dead post-trench? Why wasn’t there burning oil to be poured on the climbing dead from the walls?

What was your plan for Bran in the Godswood? Why didn’t Theon have dragonglass-tipped arrows? And a dozen concealed dragonglass knives on him?

There simply wasn’t enough, narratively, to hang on to. At the end of this, no one in charge deserves the Iron Throne. That was a terrible plan to defend Winterfell (I’m not sure it deserves the word “plan” tbh) and all of you should be ashamed.

Except Arya. Girl gets shit done.

#Game of Thrones #spoilers

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destroyyourbinder · 6 years

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the girls not like other girls / coming home

One thing a lot of detransitioned and reconciling women have noted is that the only female-centric space they were permitted to have or felt comfortable in was a trans-specific one (i.e. a support group for transmasculine people) and I think this is extremely important to note, whether you are a female person who is trans-identified or an outsider to this whole experience.

As a child, I felt extremely alienated from straight-girl spaces and girl-socializing, even though I had no understanding of myself as a gay kid or as being attracted to women (even though I can see that I was attracted to other girls in retrospect) or even as particularly gender non-conforming. I figured I was "not like other girls", but I had only a crude understanding of this. I was not allowed to express my non-conformity through my appearance-- my mother forced me to wear my hair long and to wear typical girl's clothes, and I was only allowed a certain amount of token resistance before relatively severe abuse kicked in-- so I had little to appeal to in my young brain to explain why I was ostracized from girl groups or why I felt an affinity for boys or fellow strange girls.

I can see now as an adult that there was quite a lot at play: I was awkward and weird in general and had trouble making friends with kids for many reasons, especially with socially astute children who were beginning to learn about and focus on social hierarchy. I found socializing overstimulating and scary in general, and did not want to socialize in a way that involved testing social boundaries and exchanging social information, although I did enjoy the company of my friends. I preferred socializing alongside other children while we had a shared goal, like playing a game of some sort or building a structure. Because a lot of toys and activities intended to inculcate femininity in girl-children are intended to facilitate the former kind of socializing-- such as a jewelry game where girls display how well they can dress themselves according to status-rules and monitor each other's standing, or a kitchen playset where girls are intended to mimic not just making meals but making meals for family members-- I had very little interest in activities designated for girls. I also had a complicated relationship to boy children, where I often thought they were full of shit, boring, and little assholes, but since they were the only ones engaged in things I wanted to do (like jump off the swings) I had to interact with them. I sought out their company and input because even at a very young age I knew male attention and opinions were considered more legitimate, and I figured I could maybe be taken seriously if I spent time with the people who were, well, taken seriously. Maybe they would even approve of me, maybe I could even be better than them. Boy children have intense social structures as well, and they are complicated in their own right; I think some women who prefer or once preferred the company of boys/men like to say their socializing is "simpler" or "easier" or "without drama", but I don't actually think this is true. I think it's easy to forget when socializing with boys or men as a female person that you are not considered the same sort of being as them, and so the fact that it may be easier to interact with boys or men is not a property of men or male socializing in general, but the fact that you are only interacting with a truncated form of their socializing, since you are "only" a girl or woman interfacing with the male world. What I found to be true is that it was sometimes simpler as a female child to interact with boys given that you have no real social position with them-- you have avoided the hierarchy simply by not having the standing to enter one. Boys do not really know how to treat you if you are not readily submitting to a girl role and not easily sexualizable; you sort of fall between the cracks, which can be preferable to being the shittiest girl in a group of girls. I found I was not really at the "bottom" (boys never took me seriously enough to even consider me a true failure) but I could never enter their social structure no matter how hard I tried to play by their rules. I tried to make it clear I had standing with boys through competing with them and trying to outperform them at their own games. Prior to puberty, I tried to compete with boys physically, whether it was by playing bloody knuckles, doing backflips off of the playground equipment, holding races, or doing one-armed pullups. When this no longer worked, I switched primarily to competing with boys and men in intellectual domains, and invested a lot of my self-worth in how good I was compared to boys and men in traditionally male intellectual pursuits like math or logical reasoning, or by competing with the men interested in less masculine areas (but who were still considered the most serious and worthy contenders) like fine arts or writing. I maintained this mentality until I was in my early twenties. I can't say it was a good look.

While I did have some female friends as a child and adolescent, I found it very hard to maintain these friendships, even with other weird girls. There is something inherently anti-supportive and destructive about a friendship with another girl based on how much not-like-the-other-girls you are. I found myself insecure and paranoid that my weird girl friends thought I was too "normal" or too "preppy" or too "girly" for them, that the criticisms and frustrations and vitriol they leveled at girls who ostracized them or who tried to coerce them into femininity work they didn't want to do or who simply made them feel bad were also things that applied to me. I found myself frustrated, too, at my friends for "betraying me" by buying into things or behaving in ways that escalated my insecurity that I was somehow actually, truly inferior for being a girl, and one who couldn't even girl right at that. We were all caught in a bind where we believed both that girls were stupid, but also that we were freaks for personally resisting what we thought was stupid about girls. I can now recognize this as the classic psychology of oppressed people, born of continual abuse by hierarchical superiors and horizontal hostility between people frantically attempting to avoid this abuse and make sense of their situation in a way that allows them to survive it without summoning punishment for resistance. Grooming girls, particularly those prone to be resistant to patriarchy, into this psychology is convenient: it prevents them from recognizing what is really going on and from having solidarity with and compassion for each other. Instead of fighting who was hurting us, we were occupied with fighting each other over who was too obsessed with boys and who was trying too hard to be cool. The trick about this thinking was this: it wasn't that Christina *wasn't* too obsessed with boys. She was, and it was hurting her directly, as well as damaging her long-term development into a woman with a strong sense of dignity and personal agency, and it meant she was willing to damage her friendships for the sake of a dipshit who would dump her in two weeks. We just took the situation as a personal affront to our insecurities about it being proved Cosmically True that girls were stupid sluts, rather than digging deep and giving a shit about Christina and putting the blame where it belonged: the teenage boy four years older than her. Ironically, the straight girly-types were in some ways more successful in resisting patriarchal pressures than we were: at least they had each others’ backs when they complained about boys with each other, at least they were able to share strategies for mitigating the worst of the misogyny they faced. We were left in the cold.

Bizarrely, when I started interacting with other female people who were basically the same Weird Girls, but who didn't call themselves such, those who framed their issues as a gender identity or gender dysphoria problem rather than in the misogynistic way I had framed it in my childhood, I got along much better with them and felt much more understood. It was partially this feeling, that of finally understanding other female people, not being severely ostracized, and having the relief of not being so paranoid of other female people that I was alienating them pre-emptively, that convinced me that my experiences were transgender experiences rather than "just" “regular girl” experiences. Because misogyny had been removed from the table almost entirely-- both in the sense that we were all female people together and that we were not framing all of our experiences, including with other female people, through a lens of potential sexist violations of our humanity-- I felt like I could relax for once in my life. I was no longer obsessive about policing myself and the female people around me. With no male people around, and no longer worried about whether my feelings and reactions had anything to do with my inherent inferiority or not, I was no longer afraid of what my interactions with others indicated about who I really was. Of course, if you stay in transgender community long enough, a lot of these anxieties will resurface in your thoughts and in social hierarchy. Who hasn't seen a literal dick-measuring contest on an FTM message board or trans men accusing other trans men of being "trenders"? But by then, you are no longer permitted to name what's going on, nor have an inkling of where it comes from. Because being transgender has nothing to do with sexism, it's just a medical condition. Or an identity. And men aren’t catty, they don't do that sort of social thing anyway... right?

Sometimes this is what I think people mean when they say discovering they are transgender is like "coming home". It's like taking your shoes off or sliding into bed. It's relief, a relaxation of something painful, annoying, constricting. But turns out I never knew a comfortable home, so I was easily able to feel at home in a home where I was afraid, confused, and never quite clear what was going on. Was I a trender or was the guy shouting about trenders a trender? Did I really belong with these other female people or was I a faker, a poser, a loser here, too? Did I have to believe that misandry was real and defend cis men's behavior to protect myself, or did I have to flagellate myself for having the "privilege" of failing to be feminine enough?

Sound familiar yet?

When detransitioned and reconciling women discuss how having relationships with other women is healing, this is a large part of what they mean. They mean both the good relationships-- healing, genuinely supportive female friendships-- and finally getting a radically honest perspective on bad relationships, too. I had to pop out of understanding myself as "not a girl" or "not a woman" to even acknowledge that I was having classic girl-girl, woman-woman, female-female dynamics in my relationships, nonetheless see how this dynamic played a role in my disidentification and general life course. I could not see that I held responsibility for how I behaved in these relationships, nor have compassion for both other women and myself, until I was able to first see that I was not a separate type of being from the girls for whom I once held contempt. I don't think disidentified and/or trans-identified female people are much different from female people who recognize themselves as women for this reason: female people who call themselves such still separate themselves into "bad women" and "good women", women who get into trouble and women who don't, women who sacrifice their own selfhood and the women who hold onto something. There are whores and madonnas, but also there's prudes and girls who actually put out; wives who take care of their husbands and wives who need to shape up and the wives who need a life; the boy crazy girls or the sad old cougars, the women who settled down, and independent women who have some self-respect; there's women who know how to do their face and hair, and women who don't take care of themselves, but there's the women who try too hard and they look like clowns, you know.

I catch myself doing this, even still, but I know we're all doing it, and I know why. I know I'm not not-a-woman for being insecure about how much femininity I've internalized-- that's universal-- I'm just one of the women who erred on the side of judging myself for giving up my self rather than judging myself most harshly for whether or not I stayed out of trouble.

#writings

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thelegendofclarke · 7 years

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u might as well just say that u think jon is using her. saying no would be really easy but u wont do it, so u obviously think he is. ur entitled to ur opinion u can just say it.

OH MY LORD…

a) “Because you aren’t saying no means you are saying yes” is not how it works. For sooo many things in life. That would be a good thing to just ponder and appreciate. Don’t be weird, don’t make it weird.

b) I told you, multiple times, that I wasn’t comfortable answering the question publicly! I didn’t want to say ‘no’, or give any kind of definitive answer tbh, and have some little gremlin come after me with “Receipts™” about something different I said 6 months ago at 12:42 pm when I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. And I DEFINITELY didn’t want to say anything even slightly resembling ‘yes’ and get blocked by 25 people and be called repellant, or dumb, or misogynistic, or a jonsalocker, or an anti, or a freaking rape. apologist., or told to just go ship Sansa with LF, or whatever it is this week and get generally condescended as people on this site seem to be real fond of doing… As LOVELY as that all is, I’m gonna have to say hard pass. I’m cranky af and I’m tried of it.

But heeeyyy, you know what?! F I N E…

First of all, I think you are severely oversimplifying the issue and making it kind of ridiculously moralized and black and white when it’s not: you are implying that any motivation Jon may have that is not completely, 100% pure must therefore be malicious and ill intended. That’s not true at all… The entire point of forming political and personal alliances is for the accumulation and consolidation of assets, that’s how it has always worked. People entering into a generally (although sometimes uneven in terms of power) mutually beneficial relationship because each party has something the other wants or needs. Are we r e a l l y going to make every alliance that’s not made with intentions that aren’t 100% pure out to be something terribledirtybadwrong?? Because, like, that’s literally every alliance in the series ever! And also that sounds boring af and I would like to go on record with my formal objection to that bullshit right now.

Secondly, yeah I do think a big part of the reason Jon bent the knee is because he knows that they need the dragons, especially now that he knows there is a serious possibility the NK has a dragon himself. But no, I️ don’t think he did so with any malice aforethought or with the intent of “~just using her for her dragons~”. Those two things are not mutually exclusive at all, and I don’t see why they have to be, or are being made to be; and tbh it seems kind of, idk, narrow minded I guess? Or at least every overly simplified. I’m honestly not sure why anyone is so ~shocked and appalled~ about other people thinking this, and honestly the intense, black and white, moralistic, collective outrage has been such a downright weird thing to experience. That’s how alliances have literally ALWAYS worked, this really isn’t new or revolutionary in the slightest. It’s why Sansa allied with LF, she needed the Vale army. It’s why Daenerys allied with the Greyjoys, she needed their fleets. And it goes even further back to pre-series: it’s why the Targaryens almost always had to form an alliance with Dorne through marriage. Dorne was an incredibly powerful entity, both in terms of resources and military power, and they never bent the knee to the Iron Throne. The Targaryens had to find a way to ally themselves with Dorne, who ended up being their most powerful ally, in order to utilize their resources. It’s also why the Starks and Robert Baratheon allied with the Lannisters in order to help defeat the Targaryens in Robert’s Rebellion (even though they probably had little to no desire to), because they knew they couldn’t defeat the Targaryen forces without the Lannister’s amry and funding behind them. I’m not sure why this particular alliance ~is and must be different and if you don’t think it is you are going to hell!~ that doesn’t make any sense to me.

In this case, Daenerys has always wanted something from Jon, and Jon wanted something from her. Daenerys has always demanded that Jon give up his crown, throne, and kingdom because she believes she deserves to be in power over others more than him, or anyone else for that matter. Jon has always wanted dragon glass and for Daenerys to help him fight against the NK, that was his motivation for going to Dragonstone from literally DAY ONE when he left. Daenerys is not getting fucked over and ditched on the side of the road with nothing but a corn chip and some tic tacs here. She is not walking out of this situation with nothing and acting like she is is just a clear outright misrepresentation of the situation. Jon gave up his title, his kingdom, and control of his ancestral home, and the freedom of the North from outside influences which he and his people fought for, to her. And that is all on top of what she ALREADY HAS at her disposal: and entire hoard of Dothraki warriors, a army of Unsullied soldiers who have straight up pledged to die for her, and two grown ass dragons who can, quite literally, disintegrate a whole goddamn army of hundreds and all their resources and supplies in about 7 minutes (give or take)… I think she’s going to be just fine.

And finally, to be perfectly honest, I will bet you all my student loan debt that this alliance IS going to cause problems. It’s either going to cause problems between Daenerys and Jon or it’s going to cut Jon off from his entire family, those are basically the two options here. Nothing on GoT ever “just works out.” Robb seems to be gaining some ground in the WotFK, and then he gets murdered along with his wife and mother, by his own gd banner men at a wedding. Sansa finally got away from King’s Landing and being a Lannister hostage, and was put into an even more abusive situation in her own home. It seems like Cersei had finally met her match, and then she blew up the damn Grand Sept. It appears like the Dragonstone gang can’t be beat, and then Euron attacks and takes over their ships and the Lannisters take over High Garden and kill Olenna. We thought the dragons were the key to beating the Night’s King, and then Viserion gets shot out of the damn sky. Just when we thought it couldn’t possibly get any dumber than the Dorne Plot, there is a Wight Hunt with a literal FLAMING BEAR… Nothing ever just works out!

This has n o t h i n g to do with shipping, I am so damn tired of that and it’s such a weak, transparent argument. No, this has to do with the fact that Jon broke promises and betrayed obligations to his family and his people, the people who fought for him and made him king. You don’t want to think Jon would betray Daenerys? That’s cool; like you said, you’re more than entitled to that. Me personally? I don’t want to believe Jon would betray his family and his people and everyone who believed in him and trusted him to do what was best for them and made him their king. Your fave got what she wanted, and she got it at the expense of other characters and story lines that some other fans and viewers find important. Just because you don’t, doesn’t mean no one does… So good lord just go celebrate and leave the rest of us to be salty in peace! I’m tired af of getting told I’m a terrible person for the story lines and characters I care about. It’s annoying and exhausting and I’m kinda done with it.

#GET OFF MY LAWN!#i am cranky and fed up and just SO. DONE.#normally i would apologize for taking so long #but i'm not really that sorry tbh #also stop messaging me about this on anon #i said i would talk to you about it but not on anon #i don't really want to anymore at all tbh but please stop #asoiaf for ts #got for ts #wank for ts #fandom wank #alys answers #long post #anonymous

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kingofthewilderwest · 7 years

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Apparently a new RTTE trailer shows dragon winged people. Thoughts on this?

I was totally waiting for this ask to enter my inbox heeheehee.

My thoughts are mostly “Sure, why not?” with a bunch of XD XD XD XD’s after the cheeky question. I imagine there are going to be a number of individuals who feel hesitant about it for various reasons, but me, hey! I’m not going to judge it before I see it! I think it could be fun! FLYING DRAGON WARRIOR WOMEN. I mean, when you say it like that, doesn’t that sound major cool?

I am rather excited about seeing it’s women who are gliding on these wings. It’s something that should be a minor detail, but given as how ROB, DOB, and RTTE haven’t shown many women, it’s become a refreshing observation to me now. As I’ve commented in seasons past, the television show hasn’t given us many background (or foreground) female butt-kickers to enjoy on screen. It looks like these goddesses warriors of the sky are going to tip the balance some in favor of giving me badass ladies as I’ve wanted for years. We’re not seeing painfully stereotypical defenseless women here in this screenshot. THese are women in POWERFUL ARMOR and women doing some AMAZINGLY GUTSY STUNTS up in the sky. Not just anyone goes up in the sky like that. These women are specialists, these women are skilled, these women are paving out new opportunities!

Not everything about their garb is technically “practical” given as they’re wearing full plated metal armor while gliding in the sky - something that would weigh them down. But if they’re gliding shortish distances, maybe they can get away with the armor (regardless, this is fantasy, so I’d rather see badass heavily armored ladies than skimpy bikinis, heehhhhh). And if they’re gliding in to do heavy fighting, they’ll need armor to protect themselves! If it’s Gronckle iron or some other light alloy, we could get some explaining power in there, too. There’s also something to say about how their hair is very practical worn - buns, tied back, etc. - and I also appreciate that women, who are statistically a little lighter and smaller than men, are the ones who are gliding, where larger size could possibly be a disadvantage.

I’m rather curious about who these women are. Their armor is yet again a distinct style, though if I have to compare it to anyone’s armor, I’d say it’s the closest to Heather’s. Given as Heather grew up in a random unnamed Viking tribe, I don’t imagine these people came from Heather’s foster family group. But Heather also did a bit of traveling in her years, would have seen a variety of armor aesthetic styles, and... well... basically... who knows? The appearance similarities could be (and likely are) entirely incidental.

Are they protagonists who side with Hiccup? Given the armor differences, I don’t think they’re Defenders of the Wing coming to Hiccup’s aid. They have to be someone new. Are they the antagonists mentioned in pre-S5 summaries? Their facial expressions don’t “suggest” antagonists, but who knows? Either way, I’m game for flocks of power women in armor doing dramatic stunts in the skies.

To respond to some qualms I imagine individuals might have, since I know lots of people are going to react to this screencap with “ehhh” or “please no”:

First, there’s nothing about people gliding on dragon wings that actually takes away from Hiccup’s ingenious gliding device from HTTYD 2, which is where I think most people might have an “objection.” Hiccup’s development of gliding wings is already well in progress by RTTE; the basic mechanism of jumping off a dragon and gliding on his own is already established, and he just needs to do some tweaking to get his flight suit the way it is by the second movie. His flight suit is nothing like the gliders that the people in the screenshot have; the flying squirrel-like contraption that can be released directly from his clothing and used as gliding fabric is a wholly new, inventive, and Hiccup-esque idea that no one else has.

I’m guessing the other common objection other individuals might have is that it seems “unrealistic” or too much of a “copy” of what we see Hiccup invents. For me, neither of those things are a concern. Again, I feel that the flying squirrel-like clothing Hiccup invents is nothing like what I’m seeing in the screencap, and besides, the fact Hiccup developed it independently means that he’s still as inventive as ever. The fact that other people groups can be inventive and come up with novel ideas on their own is... well... it’s not that surprising, given as the Barbaric Archipelago is exploding in dragons. With the large number of small, semi-isolated people groups across the region, it’s not surprising they’ve all come up with their own unique ways of adapting their culture to dragons, be it with religious reverence, war-like vengeance, dragon riding, dragon traps, dragon hunting, wares crafted from dragon parts, live dragon fighting matches, dragon architecture, dragon-inspired swords, dragon-inspired gliders, or even, as we see in “The Serpent’s Heir,” living on dragons. To me it’s just good-natured fun to imagine how different people groups, civilizations, militias, etc. might look at the dragon and become inspired by them. So again... why not? More people than Hiccup have a right to be inventive! Even in the books, there are people like Norbert who are more inventive than Hiccup.

There’s nothing that concerns me too much about “realism” so long as the story makes “sense enough.” We are watching a television show where non-Viking-like Vikings are riding giant firebreathing (or ice breathing or acid-spitting or...) winged lizards. And for what it’s worth, the book series has always been charmingly less realistic than the movies... full of anachronisms like steamboats and clashes with the somehow-contemporary Roman Empire. There’s even a scene where thousands of insect-sized dragons cover Hiccup like a suit of armor and fly Hiccup into the air so our protagonist can pretend to be Thor God of Thunder. Another time, Alvin the Treacherous survives falling into the lava of a freaking volcano because he gets trapped in a gas bubble. Nothing realistic about it, but still whimsical, still fun, still good-natured, and still captures the fun spirit of a world with Vikings and dragons.

One invention by one people group in a television show written for largely juvenile audiences... isn’t going to upset me or something. It’s not like we’re depicting something really racist or misogynistic or horrendous that would get me upset for a reason. I’m totally chill with this. Television shows and movies and stories are sometimes wacky, but they’re all written to be adventuresome, creative, storytelling fun. And for people who might say “Well doesn’t this take away from the quality of the movies?” ....friendly newsflash, a television show adaptation from a major movie is always “not-as-good” as the movie itself. Doesn’t mean it can’t be fun! I prefer to enjoy my recreational television and find fun positives about it rather than get caught up on minor details that really aren’t that important to my health, life, future, and well-being. ;)

I say don’t dismiss it before you see it! And you don’t have to like everything about a television show. That’s totally chill. I don’t like everything about everything myself. XD I just ask you not to crap on things others might enjoy. :) Fandoms shouldn’t be groupthink where we’re all forced to like the same things. We’re allowed to like something and we’re allowed to not like something and we’re allowed to express what we feel regardless because our personal emotions are legitimate and real. I do think that whining hurts the fandom community and fandom temperament, though, so I personally recommend people talking about things they don’t like with constructive criticism.

But anyway!

Sorry about pointing out potential negative fandom dynamics.

I personally am fine with this and am interested to see what the writers do with these flying dragon warrior ladies! To reiterate on a more positive front...

1). Female warriors taking the front in RTTE at last!

2). Their armor is major cool looking and has a nice aesthetic to it.

3). This is a bunch of ladies in armor flying on dragon wings! I mean, when you actually think about that, isn’t that sort of cool? Flying dragon warrior ladies?!! I mean, what’s not to like about any of those words in that phrase - “flying dragon warrior ladies”? XD XD XD

#long post #rtte spoilers #rtte #Race to the Edge #analysis #my analysis #ask #ask me #awesome anonymous friend #Anonymous

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sapphyrelily · 5 years

Text

Star-crossed

Right, this took me a year and a quarter to finally finish editing and get posted, but here it isss :D My sort-of backstory on Aeris and Starmist’s relationship.

This is long af so it’s under a cut.

“Dreams are always dashed. Why do you still bother?”

Oh, shut up.

“Don’t listen to the demon. Follow your heart, little one. Grow stronger, regain your confidence.”

“Aye. You are stronger than you think. You are still growing. Shape your future, lest you be turned to stone.”

Thank you, Glint, King Jalis. But please, leave me to think.

Starmist sighs, looking out over the darkened expanse beyond the boughs of the Tree. His hands are cramping from working for too long, but he doesn’t know what else to do. His heart is too heavy to do much else, and he needs a distraction that will not worsen his injuries.

(Funny, that sylvari can sustain injury and scar tissue like any other race.)

Maybe he should take a walk.

He packs up his materials, storing them carefully in his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. It’s a decent walk to the bower, but he knows he will still be restless after. His mind is spiralling downwards, and his heart sits like a rock in his chest.

“Perhaps today is the day I will consume you, weakling.”

Oh, shut up, Mallyx.

“Leave the sapling be. It is not his fault he keeps hearing us…”

Starmist is grateful for Ventari's interjection, but he can’t find it in himself to reply, to thank him. He hopes the old centaur knows he is grateful.

He pushes aside the leaves covering the entrance of the garden, dropping his satchel just inside it. A cat walks past and stops to sniff it, turning away just as quickly. Starmist feels a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. Aoi's cats are helpful, sometimes.

His feet lead him away, wandering the small city. The Grove isn’t big by any means – it is just a tiny hub nestled between the Mother Tree's roots, the three levels intertwined by gentle slopes. The light shining out of blooming flowers make it warm – complimenting the spots of luminescence that the Tree herself has on the roots that form the slopes. Tiny spots of firefly luminescence are suspended in fine webbing in darker areas, little stars in the dark.

The various forms of lighting are not bright enough to darken the stars and the moon overhead, but are bright enough to light the path, to keep the nightmares at bay. The flowers by the slopes to each level brim with softly glowing nectar, winking gently at him, tempting him with their sweet contents.

He lifts a drop from a petal to taste; he doesn’t feel like running, he doesn’t feel like erasing the weight on him by throwing himself into the exhilaration gifted by the nectar. But he loves the flavour of it; sweet, life-giving, brimming with energy.

It sits on his tongue, light and heady, a burst of flavour to brighten his mood, just a little.

Starmist continues to wander.

His feet lead him; his eyes guide him. Shifting him away from where people congregate, directing him towards quieter areas. Still well lit, but less noise. Less…interference.

It is difficult, to hear and feel others so acutely, after he returned to Tyria from the Mists.

A small room. A little tunnel, leading up, then sloping down. It is lit by the glow at the end of grubs’ tails, the bands and spots on their bodies, and illuminates several other sylvari.

Their thoughts are peaceful, calm. He might stay here a while.

Starmist wanders partway down the tunnel, sitting on a clear patch of ground. A grub crawls up to him, its feelers tickling his cheek. He strokes its face, gently pushes it on its way. Its interest is captured by a nearby leaf, and it wriggles off.

“Starmist? By the Tree, is it really you?”

He turns towards the voice, lips already lifting. This is a good voice to hear. “Sei. It is good to see you.”

“And you, sapling. Come away, don’t sit where the grubs can chew on you. I know a quiet place that is far cleaner.” The shorter sylvari beckons him forward, and Starmist gets to his feet. His quiet time might have been interrupted, but he can think of no better person to have found him.

There is a little room by the grub tunnels, filled with puffy pod-chairs. It is here that Sei seats him, offering a drink as he sinks into the exquisitely soft chair.

The liquid is cool – water sweetened with a dash of nectar. Not much, but it’s all he needs. He has never been one for fancy drinks, especially not after his experiences with Wintersday spirits.

Sei sits beside him, cupping his own drink. Starmist snorts as the mender sinks into the chair, making him shorter than he usually is.

Sei rolls his eyes. “At least you haven’t forgotten how to laugh.”

“I guess not.” Starmist's voice is quiet, a little smile in it. “But–” He mimes how Sei sank into the chair, “–it was funny.”

“If you like insulting my chairs, you are welcome to sit on a regular stool.” Sei sniffs, ignoring the jibe. “These are comfortable.”

“I never implied they weren’t.”

“Good. Laena loves them. Anything she loves is generally a job well done.”

“She’s picky.”

“She has good taste,” Sei corrects. “But enough about her.” He fixes Starmist with his piercing gaze, and he squirms in his seat. “Tell me what bothers you.”

There’s no lying to a mender, especially one as astute as Sei.

Starmist sighs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I–” Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about it too deeply. But he thinks of his last letter, the one he sent with Sabadi, and he feels like that might be it.

“I…was thinking about Aeris again.”

“Aeris.” Sei sniffs. If he had been a cruder man, he would have spat on the floor. “What a horrible sapling he turned out to be. Charr are terrible influences.”

Starmist stares at the liquid in his cup, no longer thirsty. His throat is too tight. “Yeah. Most of them.”

“Most of them,” Sei agrees. “The ones that don’t conform to their precious Citadel’s orders are a lot more amenable.”

Starmist can’t deny that. He’s met Hyousetsu twice, and for a gladium, she’s surprisingly good-hearted. Gruff, but kind.

“Why were you thinking about him?”

Starmist glances up. Sei is looking at his cup, tracing the rim. He’s not pressing for answers, neither with his gaze nor the tone of his words. But he waits, all the same, for a reply.

Starmist bites his lip, wondering the same.

(Not really, not really. He knows why.)

“I’ve… Been dreaming about him again. So I wondered. What could have happened if I held on. If I pushed a little more, tried a little harder, when I found out he was in Ascalon, when I came back from the Mists.”

“Do you wish it went differently?”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t look up. “I wish he wasn’t so hostile. That he’d give us a chance again.”

“Ascalon changed him, as the Mists changed you. You’re more adaptable now. You could still talk to him.”

“Maybe.” He hesitates. Even thinking about talking to Aeris makes his heart stutter out of beat. With terror. Fear. Pain.

He doesn’t want to be rejected again. Not after their last meeting, when Aeris made clear that he wanted nothing to do with him.

“What about speaking to him with Murasaki as a mediator?”

Starmist’s heart rate spikes. “No. That’s the worst thing I could do.”

“Why?”

It sounds absurd in his head, and even worse aloud. “He thinks I want to be with her.”

Sei snorts, almost spilling his drink. “Is he mad? Those charr really have done something to his brain.”

“I don’t know.” Starmist feels bad even thinking about it. He doesn’t like thinking badly about Aeris, even if those accusations might be true. “He almost killed me the last time we met.”

“Oh, he’s definitely mad. I should send Laena after him, slap some sense into his underwatered brain.”

It hurts to laugh, and the sound that comes out is choked. Trust a mender to think of ‘underwatered’ as an insult. Trust this mender to send a Warden after a ‘rogue’ sapling.

Sei reaches over and pats his hand. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it, Starmist.”

Starmist nods mutely, but he can barely think. He feels like he might cry.

Stop it. You’re not this weak.

“Yes, you are.” Shiro sounds bored. “Just kill the nuisance and be done with it. It worked with Cantha.”

I am not assassinating a man I still love, Shiro.

“I loved the Emperor once. He tried to kill me, so I killed him first.”

“Men are disgusting. I agree with the assassin.”

“Rather ironic, Scorchrazor.”

“The only time I agree with a man is when his opinion is not completely misogynistic.”

Kalla, Glint, please.

“Arguing with the spirits again?”

Starmist looks up, catching Sei’s amused look. He gestures at Starmist’s face. “You always get this look when they start talking to you.”

A tiny smile lifts his lips. It’s mostly exasperation. “Yeah. Some of them say I should kill him first.”

“Violence begets violence,” Sei says. “If you are the bigger man, you wouldn’t do it.”

But am I?

“You are.”

He doubts it.

“You still love him, do you not?”

You know I do.

“What will you do?” It’s Sei speaking, not one of the spirits.

I don’t know.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “You’re right, the Mists changed me. I’m too scared for confrontation now.”

“You used to confront people too much in the past anyway.” Sei sips his drink, eyes thoughtful. “Funny, how your roles have swapped. Aeris used to be the quiet one.”

Starmist snorts. “Not with me, he wasn’t. He was so cheeky, but also tender, sarcastic, impassive… He was a kaleidoscope, but only behind closed doors. Ascalon seems to have filtered his emotional range, and now he doesn’t care about offending others or being nasty to them.”

“Not to Murasaki, I hope.”

“Even to Murasaki.”

Sei's eyebrows look like they might disappear into his non-existent hairline. “And here I thought he loved her more than anything.”

“That doesn’t stop him from arguing with her.” Starmist chews on the rim of his cup. “I don’t think she minds that much. She’s been referring to him as 'a pain, but my pain'.”

“Always adaptable, that one.” Sei chuckles. “If she’d give up her responsibilities, I could make a mender out of her.”

“She’d never do it. She feels like she has to do it all herself, especially now with Trahearne gone.”

“I know,” the mender sighs. The Firstborn's passing – sacrifice – is still a difficult subject for all sylvari. “It doesn’t stop me from worrying. She’ll get herself really hurt one day, from trying to be everywhere at once.”

Starmist doesn’t think it’s a good idea to tell him that she already died once.

Sei stretches, then leans over to pluck the empty cup from Starmist’s hand. “Well, don’t worry too much. You’ll reconcile with Aeris in due time.”

Starmist tries to smile, but his heart turns in the opposite direction from his lips. “I hope so.”

I really, really hope so.

-----

Aron follows the magenta glow to its source at the top of a small cliff, plopping down beside his friend. He follows his gaze to the small camp where their warband rests, the fire dying down, the last few retreating to their tents.

They’d reach the Citadel soon. A few more days. He can almost see it now: Deliver their reports. Get some approved time off. And after that, a new assignment – hopefully nowhere near Ebonhawke.

He doesn’t have much hope of that. The Iron Legion Imperator likes sending as many troops out there as possible, even though the treaty with the humans is holding strong. The Separatist ranks never seem to thin out, and the Renegades are just as annoying.

But he doubts that is what brought his friend up here.

“What’s burning your leaves?”

Aeris shoots him a sour look. “I’m not that upset.”

Aron snorts. “Sure you aren’t. You’re sulking on a cliff. The higher you go, the more upset you are.”

“I hate that I’m so predictable,” Aeris grumbles. “Fine, yes, I’m upset. What of it?”

“What’s it about? If it causes you to leave even more clones behind in the morning, Legionnaire Blizzardblade won’t be pleased.”

Aeris grumbles more. “Just thinking.”

“Oh no, thinking.”

“Shut your trap, fuzzball.” Aeris shoves him, but there’s little heat behind the action. “I was just thinking about my sister’s friend.”

“The tall thief?”

“No, not that one.”

“The gladium and her ranger?”

“No.”

Aron counts off individuals on his fingers. “The Soundless, the Courtier, the other thief; the human guardian or one of her sisters; the other ranger, the other other guardian and ranger–”

“No to all of those.” Aeris sounds sour. “The revenant.”

Aron’s ears prick up. “Never heard of that one.” To be fair, he reasons to himself, there aren’t many revenants in Tyria. He only knows they exist because the most famous one is charr.

“Because I don’t talk about him.” The sylvari sounds downright grumpy, maybe even bitter. “I don’t like thinking about him.”

“Wow.” Aron is impressed. “What did he do that you hate him so much? And how is he still your sister’s friend?”

Aeris glares. “Are you implying I chase away all of my sister’s friends?”

“You said it, not me.”

Aeris punches his arm. “I do not.”

“Evidently, because this revenant is still your sister’s friend.”

He can almost see the steam pouring from Aeris’s ears. “Okay, I’m not telling you after all. You’re being annoying.”

“Fine, then.” Aron stretches, getting to his feet.

A hand catches the hem of his pants, preventing him from walking away. Aron raises his eyebrows, but the sylvari isn’t looking at him.

He sits down.

It takes four cycles of the sylvari's glow brightening and dimming before he begins to speak. “The revenant's name is Starmist. He used to be my lover.”

Aron can’t help it; he splutters. Not so much because his friend had a male lover but because– “And now you hate him?”

“What made you think that?!”

“Your face and how much you don’t want to talk about him,” Aron points out. “But go on. This is the juiciest thing I’ve ever heard from you.”

“Aron Blizzardclaw, I will put a bullet in your skull–”

“I’ll set you on fire first. Anyway, about your lover.”

“Ex-lover,” Aeris stresses. “We’re not on talking terms anymore.”

“Alright, seriously, what did he do to get your leaves all withered?” Aron is perplexed. “I’ve never seen you this agitated, even when your sister died.”

“She came back.”

“Not the point. You evidently care more about this guy than your sister, and that’s saying something. The whole warband – heck, all of the Citadel, even Tyria – knows you have a sister complex.”

“I– I do not!”

“Yes, you do, you mottled leaf.” Aron cuffs his head. “Who is this man? I must meet him.”

“Oh, no, you don’t, you meddling fluff.” Aeris shoves him. “Starmist can stay far away from you and me, for the rest of my life if necessary–”

There’s something in his voice that gives Aron pause. The forced hardness, the over-the-top aggression.

(The edge of hysteria.)

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Aeris splutters, his glow so intense it’s almost red. “What are you talking about?”

Aron points a claw at his face. “That. And here I thought sylvari couldn’t blush.”

“You’re a pile of dolyak manure.”

“You didn’t deny it,” Aron observes. “What’s so special about this guy?”

Aeris says nothing, his glow slowly dimming as he gnaws on his lip. Aron waits.

“He’s my everything.”

(Soft, so soft. He’s heard Ash Legion walk more loudly than this.)

(Thank the Eternal Flame he has four ears.)

Aron blinks as the words register. Stares at his friend. Clears his throat. “Come again?”

“I’m not repeating that.” The blush is back in full force, and the charr has to hold back a laugh. “I know you heard me.”

“Well, yes, but– Man, that was disgustingly sweet.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Aron groans. “How does the Commander live with you?”

“She was born with me.”

“No technicalities.”

Aeris snorts. They are silent for a while.

“So. This guy a sylvari?”

“Yes.” Aeris sounds like he’s sulking again. Aron rolls his eyes.

“And you’re not talking to him anymore, why?”

“He pisses me off.”

“Now you’re contradicting yourself,” Aron growls. “You love him, but he annoys you. Sort yourself out!”

Aeris mumbles something incoherent. Or maybe it’s so jumbled up that none of Aron’s four ears can pick it up. “What?”

“I made a bit of a mistake.”

“Boy, am I surprised.”

“Shut it.” There’s no heat behind the words. “It was a misunderstanding, okay?”

“You don’t want to apologise.” Aron infers.

“…something like that.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I may have accused him of sleeping with my sister.”

Aron groans. “That is the least sylvari-like thing ever. Even I know sex is a secondary thing to you guys.”

“Shut up, I know.” Aeris sounds aggrieved. “And there was another thing, but I’m not telling you that.”

“What, too personal? And here I thought this was personal.”

“Even more personal, yes.” Aeris doesn’t even try to deny it, and Aron’s eyebrows raise to join his hairline.

“Well. Who knew?”

“Go away.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Are we going back to camp or what?”

The sylvari is quiet for a moment, then silently gets to his feet and takes the path down. Aron follows him, shooting quizzical looks at his friend’s back.

How odd. Maybe a ghost is possessing his friend. There’s no way he just said all of that of his own accord.

-----

A cold night, a frosty cave, the chill of the wind seeping into bones.

They’re almost there, almost at the end. The dark room is coming to a close.

Above their heads, the spirit of the pirate captain laughs.

They ignore him.

“Come on. One more platform.”

Hands grip each other tightly, before letting go. The pirate spirit lights the room again.

One second, a running jump, rolling and coming to a stop.

The light cuts as he rises to his feet. Breathless, a laugh bubbling out.

A panicked voice comes from behind him. “Starmist? Where are you?”

His heart sinks, his laughter dies. “Up here.”

“I can’t see you, where have you gone?”

He leans over the edge, gripping the stone carefully, just as the light blinks into existence.

And snuffs out.

But the image is still imprinted on his mind: an outstretched hand, a face filled with panic, a desperate reach for something that is unattainable.

“I’ll wait for you. You remember the path out, right?”

A shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“You can do this. I’ll stay here.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. I’ll be the marker so you know where to go.”

“Okay.”

The scene changes.

Angry yelling, voices echoing back at them, ten times magnified.

“You jumped without me!”

“It was an accident, I slipped!”

“Fine, but you didn’t wait!”

“It was cold and there might have been a shark in the water! I waited outside!”

“Excuses.”

“Get a grip, you found me in the end. It’s not that bad!”

“I thought you were dead!”

“Well, I’m not.” His voice sounds so cold. “Worry about yourself.”

A pause, an almost stunned silence. “Are you implying that I’m more likely to die?”

“If you don’t stop clinging to me, yes! I can’t be there all the time, Aeris.”

“Do you want to leave?”

The heavily implied, but unsaid 'me' at the end of his sentence hangs in the air. The pirate captain cackles behind them, ghostly echoes filling the cavern.

Starmist holds his gaze but says nothing. Indignation courses through him. He will not say something he regrets, and he will not add fuel to the fire.

He turns towards the exit and storms out of the cave.

The colours shift, the lighting increases.

A rough shove sends him backwards, stumbling too close to the humming asura gate. He looks up, glares at his partner. “Stop.”

“You want me to be more assertive, don’t you? So, watch me.”

Another shove, but this time Starmist is ready. He catches Aeris’s hands, pushing him back. He may be shorter, but Aeris is unused to combat and brute force. He can win this.

The surge of strength takes him by surprise, and they fall. The screams of the asura gate assistant is all he hears before his head compresses and his vision goes black.

He hits the floor, the breath knocked from his lungs, his head cracking against the ground.

Beside him, Aeris struggles to push himself up. Starmist thinks he might have the same headache he does.

Serves him right.

Something catches his eye – the odd surroundings, the metal of an airship, the strangely foggy air around them. The silence, the unnatural stillness.

He blanches.

We’re in the Mists. We have to get out.

The asura gate hums beside them. He's sure it will take them back to Lion's Arch, but they have to move. Fast.

“We need to go–”

“We should settle this here and now.” Aeris staggers to his feet, grabbing Starmist by the arm. The shorter sylvari yanks it away, glaring.

“We need to get back to Tyria, now.”

“Why not finish this here? No one is watching.” The taller folds his arms, and Starmist feels his anger returning.

“You have terrible priorities.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’m trying to keep us alive!”

“Really? Or just yourself?”

Starmist growls. “We’re in the Mists. There’s all sorts of things in here that could kill us!”

“If we’re in here, we’re dead anyway.”

“Not true. Some people have returned from the Mist War.”

“And even more haven’t. I can’t feel the Pale Mother here. Can you?”

He can’t. “Argue later, leave now.”

“You sound like an ettin,” Aeris sneers. “So simple-minded.”

“I dare you to say that again.” He steps forward, but Aeris holds his ground, chin held high.

“I said–”

Starmist shoves him, catching him off guard. Aeris stumbles and trips and falls backwards – eyes wide, body passing through the shimmering haze of the asura gate.

Starmist sighs in relief. Steps forward to follow.

Something grabs him, yanks him back. Hooks the back of his shirt, drags him away from the gate. He chokes; fumbles at his sides for his weapons, but comes up empty.

I left them in my backpack.

The backpack that is still sitting in Lion's Arch, where he had set it down before their fight.

The thing holding on to him screams. Ear-piercing, head-splitting. He claps his hands over his ears, but he can hear them ringing, can feel his body curling up from the shock.

He blacks out.

-----

A hand is shaking him awake, turning to gentle shoves. A voice calls his name; lightly exasperated, a sighing cadence.

“Starmiiiiist. Get up, c'mon.”

He opens one eye, the last tendrils of the dream fading; he makes out a light pink glow. He sighs through his nose. “Lemme sleep, Mura.”

“No. I just returned, I want my bed back.”

“We can share.” He shifts onto his side, the hammock tilting. A moment later, he feels the dip of the material in the other direction as she climbs in beside him.

Starmist feels her lay her head against his chest, an arm and a leg wrapping around his body as if he is a large pillow. He feels her satisfied grumble, the tiny sigh that gets lost in his shirt.

“Goodnight.”

“’night.”

They sleep on.

-----

They’re lagging behind the warband, Aron carrying the still-sleeping sylvari on his back. He’s pretty sure this is the real one, because the clones don’t talk in their sleep.

Aeris mumbles something, then inhales sharply. Aron ignores him and the tightening of limbs around his neck. It’s not a sign he’s awake. It could be another nightmare.

He wonders what his friend is dreaming about, but he thinks he might know.

I'm going to ask the legionnaire for a week off, then take this plant back to the Grove and leave him there.

Stupid stick needs to sort out his problems.

Aron wonders if the Commander is back from her latest trip yet, if she’ll be home.

He supposes he’ll find out soon.

-----

He wakes slowly, wondering what the warmth next to him is, wondering why it is so small. He can hear soft exhales, the weight of a head on his chest, but it’s not quite right. It’s too light.

He blinks too many times and squints at the person beside him.

Oh. Just Murasaki.

He hates admitting to himself that he still feels disappointed, after all this time.

He’s not coming back, stop doing this.

“Emotions make you weak.”

He can’t really disagree with the assassin.

Starmist gets up slowly, pulling away and out of the hammock. Murasaki shifts in her sleep but does not rouse; he gently lays her head back down, watching her breathing return to normal.

He exhales lightly and turns away, picking up and sliding his weapons into place. He glances at the armour set in the corner but decides to leave it be. No point in putting them on when he’s not leaving yet.

“What is the point of putting on only half of one’s clothes? Do it properly.”

Shut up, Shiro. At least I took my weapons.

“One day you’ll return to the Mists because of your sheer stupidity and carelessness, and I will remind you what it means to allow your foolhardy consciousness to 'relax'.”

“It’s his house. Why must he carry weapons at all?”

Starmist can foresee the assassin's reply.

“You strike in the home, where the enemy is undressed and thinks himself safe. Never let your guard down.”

Ventari sighs.

A rustle at the door catches his attention, and he hears hissing as the cats flee.

Starmist makes his way there, mildly curious, but he isn’t too worried. Despite Shiro’s misgivings, the Wardens wouldn’t let anyone suspicious into the Grove – the cats just don’t like strangers.

He pulls the curtain-door aside to greet the person.

His heart stops; his breath catches in his chest.

The large charr raises an eyebrow at him and coughs lightly, catching his attention, shattering his frozen state. “Can I, uh, deposit my friend?”

“What did you do to him?” Starmist doesn’t move, but he’s already drawing on the nearest spirit's power. Demonic energy fills him, the tendrils ready for him to take hold of if something goes wrong.

(He tells himself he doesn’t care that his voice broke, there at the end.)

The charr doesn’t seem to notice, his tone nonchalant as he answers. “Oh, he’s just sleeping. I think this is the real one, because he’s been–”

“–talking in his sleep,” Starmist finishes, eyes fixed on Aeris’s face, on his moving lips.

“…yeah.” The charr looks at him curiously. “You know him?”

“Knew. Once.” It’s not untrue. Starmist steps aside, releasing the energy now that he knows nothing is wrong. Mallyx growls at him, but he ignores the demon. “Come in, you can put him down and I’ll get you a drink. It can’t have been easy to carry him all this way.” Why is he being so hospitable?

“Thanks. Much appreciated.” The charr follows him, footsteps light.

Starmist hears a sharp intake of breath as they walk into the sleeping area, and glances over his shoulder. The charr is staring, and he follows his gaze to the hammock and its occupant.

Play it cool.

“Bring him over, I’ll just shift Murasaki.”

The footsteps follow after a beat of hesitation. Starmist ducks around the hammock, gently sliding his arms under and lifting his sleeping friend.

Murasaki doesn’t stir. Her entire body is limp, and Starmist struggles to hold her up. She’s heavier than she looks.

“Put him down.” He tries to keep his voice level, but he’s not sure if the charr can pick up the strain in it. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

The charr pulls Aeris off his back, lowering and tucking all his limbs into the hammock before stepping backwards. Starmist takes his turn and drapes Murasaki on top of him, trying to arrange her comfortably without touching her brother. He pretends not to hear the charr’s snort, the feeling of surprise emanating from him.

He needn’t have worried. The twins shift themselves to fit each other – Aeris’s arms pulling Murasaki close, her hands fisting in his shirt. They curl into each other, their breathing stuttering before synchronising, until the only way to tell them apart is the colour of their clothing.

Starmist smiles lightly, sadly. He steps around the hammock, lightly touching the stunned charr's elbow and gesturing with a tilt of his head. The charr follows.

The small kitchen is next to the sleeping area, but Starmist pours them drinks and leads the way up to the higher levels, overlooking parts of the Grove. The charr looks hesitant at first, but gingerly sits beside him on the ground, paws carefully cradling the cup. They sit in silence for a long moment, neither taking the first step to speak.

“Are… Are they always like that?”

Starmist glances up, but the charr isn’t looking at him. He nods. “Some sort of twin thing, I think. They always know when the other is near. But they’ll still scream when they wake up.”

“What?”

“Their bodies know but their minds don’t.” Starmist tells him. “It’s hilarious. You have to stay until they wake.”

The charr looks uncertain but agrees before changing the subject. “You seem to know them well.”

“Murasaki’s my best friend,” Starmist shrugs. “You can’t know her for long without knowing her brother.”

A loud guffaw surprises him, the charr smacking his knee with mirth. “I knew it. All of Tyria knows he has a sister complex. The famed Commander has a clingy brother! What a joke.” He keeps laughing, and it sounds genuine.

It’s not how Starmist would phrase it, but he can’t disagree. He has to admit that the charr is humorous, if a bit crude. “They are absurdly close.”

“Sure they are. I bet there’s something funny going on there.”

Starmist nearly spits out his drink. “…I'm not going into details, but you’re not wrong.”

The charr whips around to stare at him; all laughter gone, jaw hanging. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I didn’t specify anything.”

The charr groans. “I’m never talking to a sylvari about this again. I don’t want to know.”

Starmist grins. He can sense his embarrassment, tinged with how disturbed he is. “I shall not divulge anything else then.”

“Very much appreciated.” The charr changes tracks. “What about your name? That’s a safe topic, isn’t it?”

He blinks. “I'm Starmist.”

He doesn’t expect the charr to choke and reaches over, patting his back in concern. “You okay?”

The charr looks at him with streaming eyes and points a claw at him. “You’re Aeris's ex-lover.”

His blood goes cold. “Who are you?”

Why do you know this?

“Aron Blizzardclaw, Blizzard warband, Iron Legion.”

Aeris’s warbandmate.

Starmist tries to keep calm. “And now we know who the other is.”

“Indeed.” Aron is still staring at him, the occasional hiccup making its way out. “You don’t look like much.”

“No, I guess not.” It’s not the first time someone’s said that to him. Staying incognito has always been part of Starmist’s nature. “You look like a big charr.”

“Biggest in my farahr,” Aron brags. “But enough about me. I got some questions for you.”

“I still don’t understand who you are or why you know these things.”

His head is light with encroaching panic, and he struggles to keep his thoughts straight.

Stall for time, stall for time.

“I’m Aeris’s friend.” Aron shrugs. “Found him sulking a couple days ago and he told me some things about you. I’m tired of his angst, so I dragged him here.”

Starmist can’t hold his gaze. “What did he say?”

“Besides how he still loves you and that he’s annoyed with you? Not much.” Aron grouses, taking a large sip.

Starmist can’t breathe.

“He didn’t…actually say that, did he?”

(He knows Aeris. How he is now. He wouldn’t have said that–)

“Not about loving you, no. Guessed that one myself. His glow turned just about red when I said it.” Aron snorts at the memory. “He did say you’re annoying, though.”

Starmist smiles lightly, though it hurts. “Of course he did.”

Aron stares at him, putting his chin on a fist. “You’re a revenant?”

Starmist cocks his head at the change in topic. “Yes?”

“How’d you become one?”

“Fell into the Mists, learnt to hit harder and draw on the only resources I had. I didn’t have any weapons on me at the time, and couldn’t find any until a lot later.” He shrugs. “I think I still have some of my old skills, but I’m too used to this, now. The spirits won’t leave my head, so I can’t focus even if I did try to go back to how I used to fight. I can’t fight very well without my blindfold anyway.”

“Old skills?” Aron sounds intrigued. “How'd you fight before?”

“Just–” Starmist gets to his feet, walking casually to the edge of the mushroom and looking over. He hears Aron scramble to join him, and turns to face him, dropping his cup–

And shadowsteps close, his sword drawn and up against his neck. “–like that.”

Aron rears back, palming his daggers, but Starmist has already shadowstepped back to his original spot, raising his shield. The cone of fire bends around his body and the energy shield, none of the flames touching him.

He looks over the shield when the fire stops, quickly putting away his weapons. “Sorry about that.”

Aron looks stricken, sheathing his daggers with a bit more force than necessary. “I– Flame and soot, I’m sorry, too. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

This piques Starmist's interest. “Done what? The fire? Isn’t it normal for an elementalist?”

“Burn me, no– I mean, yes, but– No!”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Starmist tells him. “It’s just magic.”

“It’s never 'just magic' with charr,” Aron mutters. “Don’t repeat that to any other charr, you hear? My legionnaire is always looking for a reason to toss me out.”

Starmist nods, miming zipping his lips. “I’d forgotten your people dislike magic.”

“Yeah, well,” Aron flops down. “Not hard to forget if you hardly spend time with us.”

“I’ve met a gladium or two.” Starmist picks up his empty cup, setting it by his side as he re-joins Aron. “They were all right.”

“No charr is really 'all right' without a warband. It’s like being dehorned, declawed, defanged.

“Speaking of weapons,” Aron gestures at Starmist’s weapons. “I wondered why you didn’t take those off in your own home. Geez!” He glares at them, grumbling. “I can’t believe it. You were trained as a thief. A highly wary one, at that. Damn, that’s a huge change in style.”

Starmist traces the rim of his empty cup, hiding a smile at Aron’s perceptiveness. “Yeah. That’s the main reason why I took so long to find a way back to Tyria. I wasn’t able to find a way out when I couldn’t hit harder than they hit me.”

“Who is 'they'?” Aron sounds genuinely curious, but Starmist shudders.

“The Mists are full of things. Worse monsters than you can find on Tyria, and spectres that haunt you. Every bad thing that you can imagine and worse is in there. I don’t want to go into detail.”

Aron nods. “I can respect that.”

“Thanks.”

A beat of silence, and the questions return. “What weapons did you use as a thief?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Aron shrugs. “’m curious. There’s also a theory I want to confirm.”

Starmist peers at him, curious. “Double pistols, sword and dagger sometimes.”

The charr taps his chin with a claw. “Hmm. Maybe only half the theory works.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Aeris’s weapon choice. He used to use double swords. Or that’s the weapons he preferred when we found him. He swapped to the pistol and the axe when he followed the Commander to the desert.” Aron glances at Starmist. “Maybe he picked up the pistol because it reminded him of you.”

Starmist can’t help it – his heart flutters. “A romantic notion.”

“Isn’t it? So juicy.” Aron rubs his paws together, grinning. “That damn plant never tells me anything good, I gotta weed it out of him.” Aron raises an eyebrow as Starmist makes a face. “What?”

“Bad pun.”

“Pun? Oh–” Aron groans. “Didn’t mean it. It slipped out.”

“I’m kidding, it was pretty good.”

“Thanks. Oh, hey, I just thought of another thing.”

“What?”

“You know how mirages can do the shadowstep thing too?” Aron smiles slyly. “Maybe–”

Starmist smiles. “You’re reading too much into it. Mirage magic has thief elements in it, that’s all.”

The charr shrugs, completely unaffected. “Maybe, but it’s good fun.”

“Mm.”

“How’d you meet the Commander?”

“Do you ever stop asking questions?”

Aron grins. “Not if I can help it. I’m Iron Legion by training. It means you keep asking questions and innovating.”

“Fair enough.” Starmist is beginning to like this charr. “I actually met Murasaki because she was trying to set me up with her brother.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.” Starmist laughs. It feels good to laugh. “She was so blunt about it. 'Hi, my brother is too shy to talk to you, so I’m his mouthpiece. Please come talk to him so he’ll stop whining?'” He mimics Murasaki’s wide eyes and innocent tone, and Aron bursts into laughter.

“The Commander is savage.”

“You don’t get that far in life without being that harshly honest,” the sylvari agrees. “She’s always been brave like that.”

“Gee, I need to spend more time with her. I know her a little, but she sounds like the exact opposite of her annoying brother.”

Starmist thinks about it. “They are kind of different. But similar in many ways.”

“As long as she’s not sulky like he is,” Aron grouses. “What a complete annoyance he is. Can’t even get him to tell me straight why he’s upset.”

Starmist shakes his head. “Some people never change.”

“What was he like? Back then.”

“Back then?”

“Yeah.” Aron seems unfazed by his weak attempt at deflection. “You said the Commander came to ask you to talk to him, right? Did you?”

“Are you asking me to tell you the entire story of how we met?”

(Starmist isn’t going to admit he’s slightly amused – and shocked – but he is amused.)

“Yeah, pretty much. You said I have to stay and watch them wake up.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the sleeping twins. “Might as well have a story to pass the time.”

Starmist takes a deep breath. He’s never had to tell anyone, before.

(Everyone else knows or respects his space enough not to ask.)

“If you want to listen, I guess I could tell you. But how about I get some more drinks and some snacks first?”

He’s stalling, but Aron doesn’t seem to notice or mind.

“Ooh, snacks. Yes, please.”

-----

He’s testing a blade on a piece of wood when a small female sylvari skips up to him. Her eyes are wide and innocent, and her pink glow contrasts nicely with her blue skin.

“Hi. I’m Murasaki. My twin is hiding somewhere behind that pillar, and he really wants to talk to you but is too much of a coward to, so I came instead. Could you do me a favour and talk to him, please? I’m tired of his whining.”

He can’t help his lips twitching into a smile. “I like your honesty.”

She shrugs. “He’s getting on my nerves. So, please?”

He doesn’t see why not. It could be interesting. “Sure. Lead on.”

She skips ahead, twisting back a little to grin at him. “What’s your name?”

“Starmist.”

“Nice name. Mother picked well.”

“She did.” He falls in step beside her. “What's your brother’s name?”

“He can introduce himself.” They stop just before a bend, Murasaki staring at a wall. She sighs and puts a hand on it, running her palm over its surface as she continues forward. “Sorry, I’m not very good at magic yet. My brother does stealth spells better than I do, and I have to find him the regular way.”

Starmist is intrigued. “I know a bit of magic. I can try to help you find him.”

“Thanks. If I can’t find him this way, that would help a lot. What type of magic are you learning?”

“Oh, bits and pieces. Mostly stealth and cloaking. A bit like Firstborn Caithe.”

Murasaki turns to grin at him. “Thief magic, that’s cool. My brother and I are learning mesmer magic. There’s a bit of stealth in that, but it’s mostly illusions.”

“Curious. Why that?”

Murasaki lifts and drops a shoulder. “To confuse people. You’ll understand when we find my brother.”

They round the bend, Murasaki’s hand catching on something. She fumbles, scrabbling a little before she grabs a hold of it with a triumphant “Gotcha!” The inconspicuous image of the wall shimmers and dissipates.

A tall male with the same skin colour as Murasaki grimaces as he reappears. His glow flares a deeper pink than hers as he tries to break free of her grip. “Mura!”

“You're being stubborn. Introduce yourself, c'mon.”

The male glances at him and looks away immediately, biting on his lip. His whisper is low and urgent. “Mura, please.”

“No. The least you could do is be polite and introduce yourself. I did it, it’s not hard.”

“It is for me!”

“Shut your trap and introduce yourself, brother dear.”

Starmist decides to put the poor guy out of his misery. Murasaki is evidently someone that you do not mess with. “Hi, I’m Starmist.”

A pause, and then–

“Even his name is beautiful,” he hears the other mutter. The compliment brings a smile to his face, warming him to the stranger.

The male finally makes eye contact, his smile so shy it looks painful. “Hi. I’m Aeris.”

“You’ve got a pretty name too,” Starmist offers, laughing when Aeris’s eyes widen.

“You heard that?”

“Only a deaf person couldn’t have heard you,” Murasaki comments drily, her hand still wrapped around his arm. “My job here is done.”

She releases her brother, smiling brightly at Starmist. “It was good to meet you. I’ll see you later, there’s somewhere I have to be.”

She grabs the front of her brother’s shirt and yanks him down to her – Starmist hadn’t noticed before, but Aeris is a whole head and a half taller – pecking him on the cheek and skipping away.

Aeris straightens slowly, rubbing his cheek. He’s not looking at Starmist again. “Sorry about her.”

“Don’t be. She is her own person.” He looks up at Aeris – funny, how someone so tall could be so maladroit – and asks, “She said you’re siblings?”

Aeris nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pod twins. All sylvari are technically siblings, aren’t we?”

Starmist chuckles. “That’s right.” He sweeps an arm out over the expanse of the Grove. “Would you like to walk with me?”

Aeris doesn’t hesitate, despite how uncomfortable he seems. He nods shyly, falling into step beside Starmist.

“Murasaki said you’re learning mesmer magic?”

(Starmist hasn’t really had conversations with others before. He’s not sure what to talk about, or how to lead one.)

Aeris nods. “Mura thought it’d be fun to confuse people. We look pretty similar, other than the height and gender.”

Starmist takes another look at Aeris. He can sort of see what he means. Added to how mesmer magic works, it wouldn’t take too much finesse to create an illusion just slightly different to themselves to match their sibling.

He then thinks about his vague memories, things he saw in the Dream. Weren’t males usually the ones who led, and females followed? Or was that just for humans? “But what do you want to do? Surely there’s something you’re interested in.”

Aeris shakes his head. “I haven’t found anything I like yet. I'm somewhat decent with mesmer magic, so I’ll stick with it.” He pauses for a second, his voice a little softer as he asks, “What about you? What do you do?”

It’s a very broad question, but Starmist figures he’ll be straightforward. “I’m learning thief magic. But I prefer crafting.”

“Crafting?” Aeris’s eyes go wide. “What type?”

Starmist shrugs. “For now, artificing. Want to watch me work?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind me watching…?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded.” Starmist smiles and leads them back towards the crafting sector. “I don’t really know what I’m doing yet, but you can watch if you’re sure you won’t be bored.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Aeris looks around at all the different crafting stations, slack-jawed. “There’s so much to do here.”

“And this is just the Grove. Imagine what’s out there, in the rest of Tyria.”

Aeris’s attention snaps back to him. “So much. I remember just a little from the Dream, but the world is just…huge.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Starmist pulls out his tools again, chipping at the wood he was working on before. “It’d be interesting to go out there, don’t you think?”

“If you had someone to go with, sure. It must be lonely to go by yourself.”

Starmist looks at him, hands stilling. Aeris is examining one of the tools, eyes occasionally flicking to him, still chewing on his lip. He looks nervous, but strangely adorable.

He might try to be this guy’s friend after all. It might be nice, to have a friend.

“We could go together, if you’d like.”

The other's eyes snap to meet his, brimming with disbelief. Starmist shrugs. “Unless you’d prefer to go with your sister.”

“No! No, that’s okay.” Aeris takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Mura likes exploring on her own. I don’t want to bog her down. She knows I’m not a fan of figuring it out on my own like she is. I’d like to go with you.”

Starmist grins, his woodwork forgotten. “Then adventuring we shall go.”

-----

Aron drums his claws on the table. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

Their cups are half-empty, though they have been refilled twice. The pile of cookies has been completely demolished, and their weapons (alongside Aron's armour) sit against the wall.

“You wanted to hear me tell the story,” Starmist reminds. “I didn’t say it’d be exciting.”

“Ugh, fine. That sounds so unlike Aeris though. Him, shy? An awkward mess?” The charr snorts. “What a joke.”

“That’s what he was like.” Starmist smiles, eyes drifting as he loses himself in another memory. “Ungainly, but so careful with others, always waiting for someone else to lead him. He’s just a big puppy. That’s why Mura used to boss him around so much.”

“Is she the older twin?”

Starmist shakes his head. “I don’t know. You know about sylvari Wyld Hunts?”

“No.”

“They’re a sort of…mandate? Mission? From the Dream. It could be to protect the people, it could be to cleanse Orr. It’s like a compulsion – you can’t get rid of it until it’s completed.

“Murasaki woke with a Wyld Hunt. She was supposed to slay Zhaitan, which as you know, led to her becoming the Pact Commander. Aeris didn’t. Just before they woke, Murasaki was calling out because she was dreaming of her Hunt, and Aeris was holding on to her tightly. No one knows which one of them fell out of the pod first, since they kind of fell together.”

“Huh. Okay.” Aron taps his chin. “So Aeris just woke up with a sister complex, huh?”

Starmist snorts. “Oh, I don’t know. Murasaki loves him a lot too, so it’s not that weird.”

“Siblings with that much care and affection for each other are weird.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“No, I guess not.” Aron tilts his head and considers him. “I’ll have to take you to the farahr sometime, to see what sibling rivalry and stuff actually looks like. Then you’ll see what I mean.”

“Sure.” Starmist is intrigued. “That sounds interesting.”

Aron nods to himself, as if checking off a mental list. “Okay, so tell me more.”

Starmist sighs with a touch of fondness.

This charr – and his curiosity – is definitely growing on him.

-----

Starmist vaguely remembers what love should feel like. It’s one of the strongest emotions, so it definitely fed back into the Dream as an experience for all forming sylvari. But to feel the visages of it himself – it is intriguing but terrifying.

Perhaps he should talk to Murasaki.

He slips away from the crafting station, heading for her small garden. She used to share a communal one with many other sylvari, but her experiences in Tyria have made her flighty, nervous. She said she had nightmares, and she’d rather not burden others around her with it. It was her pain and duty to bear.

The menders respected that. He remembers a small mender by the name of Sei helping to shape her garden and bower.

He always thought Sei a little odd in appearance. He looked so tough, hardened by the world, but he had the sweetest, wisest soul of any sylvari he had ever met. It was even more odd because his dearheart Laena was a Warden. She was the fierce one. Gentle in appearance, slim and seemingly fragile, but she could launch several Nightmare hounds by herself, and wasn’t afraid of using her weapons to 'talk'.

Starmist reaches the bower, picking up and ringing a small bell by the entrance. He still remembers what happened the first time he entered without doing that. He’s not keen on being attacked by several clones again.

“Come in!”

He pushes leaves aside and steps in, seeking the source of the voice. He finds her lounging in a hammock, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out. Murasaki turns to face him as he approaches, and her face lights up. “Starmist! Good to see you.”

“And you. Resting?”

“As much as I can rest while lying here.” She sighs, waving him to a patch of soft grass before returning to staring at the ceiling. “Sleeping gets boring after a while. I want to explore. But it’s so hard to go anywhere without random things attacking me, and that’s the part I’m tired of.”

“If you took some company along, they could take care of the fighting for you.”

“Mercenaries?” She asks, mouth quirking at the corner. “I’m not paying good silver for that. I can take care of myself. I just want the world to leave me alone for a bit, you know?”

He thinks about it. “I think I do.”

“Mm. But you came here to ask something, right? What is it?”

Starmist smiles sheepishly. “What gave it away?”

Murasaki’s head lolls to the side and she grins at him. “You’re usually too glued to your work to do anything else.”

He shrugs. “You’ve got me. I did want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever felt like you were in love?” He questions. “I know we’ve all felt remnants of it in the Dream, but it’s different, here in the world.”

Murasaki’s fingers drum on her thigh. “I know what affection feels like. Love, not so much. I wouldn’t define it as that.”

“Alright then, affection. What’s that like?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been feeling, and we compare?” She smiles slyly.

Starmist rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “It’s like a great fondness for the other person. Being happy when they’re happy, amused by their antics, finding the ridiculous things they do silly, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Their pain is your pain, and you want to hold them tight and wish away their tears or the burden on them. You want to do everything with them, because they make even the most mundane things fun.”

Murasaki smirks at him. “Do you want to hold them tight and kiss them?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Sounds like my definition of affection, but a little more intense. Oh, I forgot to ask, where would you like to kiss them?”

“Their mouth, maybe?” Starmist stares, bewildered. “Isn’t that what we hear people do?”

“Yeah, and if you stand and stare long enough, you’d see them do it too,” she says drily. “Yup, your sort of affection sounds a lot stronger than mine. Let’s term your feelings ‘love’, shall we?”

Starmist laughs at the abrupt change of direction the conversation takes. “You are utterly ridiculous.”

“And mine is called ‘affection’,” she continues, though her smile gives her away. “Alright, now tell me who it is you think you might be in love with.”

“You’ve been looking forward to asking that question.”

“Indeed I have.” Murasaki’s smile doesn’t fade. “C’mon, tell me.”

Starmist rolls his eyes, and his glow flares a shade darker than it usually is. “I might love Aeris.”

He is taken aback when Murasaki claps her hands together, giggling madly. The hammock sways with her movement. “Oh, Mother forgive me, I’ve waited too long for this day.”

“You what?”

“Remember that day I made you come talk to Aeris?” She’s still grinning, now twisted completely on her side to face him. “I hoped that you might love him as he has loved you, since, well, the first time he saw you.”

“He what?” Starmist is flabbergasted. “I always suspected he had a crush on me, but ‘love’ is pushing it a little, isn’t it?”

“Oh no,” she sing-songs. “He’s been smitten for ages. Though I admit, he has better patience than me. It only took him the better half of a year to win you over.”

Starmist starts laughing; the situation is too ridiculous. “You are an awful friend and a worse sister.”

“I have to find my entertainment somewhere, you know.” Murasaki is beaming; she looks a lot more relaxed than when he first stepped in. “Luckily, I am related to pretty good drama. This might even be as good as the dramatics of the humans!”

“You insult us.” He puts a hand over his heart. “Us? Almost as good as humans?”

“Hmm, no, you’re right. I’m out of the loop.” She winks. “I’ll have to go to Divinity’s Reach soon and ask around for the latest gossip.”

“Utterly despicable behaviour.”

“All in good fun, my friend. Oh, I hear someone coming. Wonder who that could be?” Her tone is teasing, but Starmist’s smile freezes on his face.

Murasaki notices right away, her expression softening. “I’m kidding. There’s no one there.”

“I’m glad I’ve been degraded to ‘no-one’ in your eyes, sister.” Aeris steps in, rolling his eyes. “That makes it easier for me to come and go.”

“Nonsense, I’m the one who has to disappear so often.” She sighs sadly, her demeanour drooping. “Speaking of which, I need to go to that new stronghold that Trahearne mentioned. It’s almost ready.”

“We could accompany you part of the way there. Take the scenic route, explore a little.” Starmist glances at Aeris for the first time since he entered the room. He looks away quickly when he realises the other is looking at him.

Murasaki’s face lights up. “Would you really?”

“What happened to asking me first?” Aeris sidles over to nudge Starmist’s arm, voice light. “'We' could accompany Mura? Really?”

“I thought you might like to come,” Starmist says. “But you have a point. Would you like to accompany me as I accompany your sister to this new stronghold of the Pact?”

“Yes, I would. Thank you for asking.”

Murasaki sighs loudly. “Are you two over this 'being polite' business yet? If we’re going to go, I want to go as soon as possible.”

“You should be resting.”

“I’m bored of resting, Aeris.” Murasaki pouts at him. “There’s nothing to do in here.”

“Well… If you put it that way…”

The insinuation is loud and clear, even to Starmist.

(He knows the twins have a more… Physical side to their relationship with each other, but they’ve never been this blatant about it.)

Murasaki rolls her eyes. “No, I’m not that bored. We’ll leave tomorrow, how about that? That gives me time to talk to Mother before we leave.”

“Fine by me.” Starmist speaks first, to dispel the awkward atmosphere. Or maybe he’s the only one that feels it.

(He’s becoming too sensitive to this topic. Only humans and their scandals worry this much about sex.)

“And by me. I’ll go pack a few things.”

“Splendid.” Murasaki clambers out of the hammock. “I’ll go talk to Mother, you two be good.”

Starmist frowns at her as she leaves, but she just winks and waves gaily.

“What’s she talking about? We’re always good.” Aeris grumbles as he walks deeper into the small garden.

“Who knows.” Starmist stands and follows him. He allows himself one nervous squeeze of his hands before he drops them to his sides. “What do you think we’ll need?”

“Some food, at the very least.”

Starmist rolls his eyes, a smile lifting his lips. “Anything else?”

“A change of clothes, in case. Water skins, snacks…”

“Very practical of you.”

“Mura’s rubbing off on me.” Aeris picks out some items from the food basket, handing them to Starmist to place on the table. They move to the sleeping area and get their individual bags, packing what they need. They work in silence, the air filled with the sounds of their work. It doesn’t take long for them to finish.

“Got your armour?”

“Yeah. Weapons?”

“Yep, and an extra set.”

They set their bags by the door, ready for the morning. Their heads nearly collide as they straighten, and Starmist laughs nervously.

Aeris glances at him, a wry smile on his lips. “What’s on your mind?”

The shorter sighs, nervousness doubling. “Why are you and your sister both so astute?”

“We’re mesmers. We know minds.”

“I always forget that.” He shakes his head. “Take a walk with me?”

“Of course.”

They step out of the bower, following the path through the Grove. It’s day, but the flowers still shine brightly, for not much light reaches the deepest level of their city.

Starmist’s eyes wander, taking in their city, occasionally drifting to the tall male walking beside him. He seems relaxed, but his eyes are darting all over the place, betraying his compounding nervousness.

(That makes two of them.)

Their eyes meet, and Aeris turns away before Starmist can. It’s so like him that Starmist can’t help but smile.

“Aeris?”

“Yes?”

They’ve stopped now, in the shadow of one of the gardens. Aeris isn’t looking at him, so Starmist places a hand on his elbow, turning him until they’re face to face.

“Look at me, hey. I’m not that awful to look at, am I?”

“Of course not.” Aeris’s eyes snap to his, shocked. “You have to know that you’re amazingly good-looking.” He snaps his mouth shut after the words are out, eyes dropping, his glow flaring with embarrassment.

“That’s not what I said, but thank you.” Starmist smiles, his heart rate speeding up a little. “You wanted to know what was on my mind, right?”

Aeris flounders, a complete reversal of his earlier confidence. “If you don’t want to share, that’s okay! Forget about it! I don’t want to pressure you or anything–”

Starmist squeezes his arm, cutting him off. He takes a deep breath. “If you want an honest answer, I was thinking about you.”

Aeris splutters, flaring bright pink.

Starmist barrels on. “I was just saying to your sister that I think I might love you. 'Might' because I don’t know what love feels like, so this is all pretty new to me.”

Aeris is chewing on his lip.

Starmist takes this as a good sign, throwing caution to the wind.

“And I was going to ask if you would let me love you. Treat you as a lover would, and not just a friend.”

The silence stretches between them, thin and fragile. He’s forgotten how to speak; his throat is so dry.

“Do you mean it?” Aeris sounds hesitant, halting. He looks so nervous, and his question is loaded with uncertainty.

“Of course.” A horrifying thought occurs to him, despite what Murasaki said before. “Unless you don’t feel the same way. In which case I beg you to forget this conversation–”

A pair of hands grip his shoulders firmly, cutting him off. Bright nickel eyes focus on his own, the intensity in them quieting Starmist, even as his anxiety spikes.

“Of course I feel the same way.” Aeris only hesitates a second before continuing. “I’ve only loved you since forever, but I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same as I did.”

Starmist can feel the sincerity in his words, and they make his heart skip, a wide smile splitting his face. He reaches up slowly, hands framing Aeris's face, pulling him down and setting their foreheads together.

This close, he can hear the shallowness of his breath, the too-fast inhales. Their eyes lock, and he can’t help but marvel at the depth of colour in his eyes. Deep gold shot through with silver, the two melding together and sprinkled with copper flecks. Aeris is beautiful, and it’s taken Starmist too long to notice it.

Come on, ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” It’s a whisper.

Starmist closes his eyes and brings their lips together.

It’s soft, warm, pliant. The plush feeling of flesh against his own is foreign but not unpleasant. It’s a curious feeling to have those lips move against his own, pressing gently, testing the waters. Pressing a little harder, more insistently.

It’s a bit of a shock when he feels his lower lip taken between the other's teeth – what else could that sharpness be? – but Aeris is gentle. A light touch, the testing of the give of flesh, a ticklish swipe across it, which could only be his tongue.

Retreat, then the pressing of lips together again. Just flesh on flesh, slowly, gently. Pressing hard then lightly, pulling away.

Starmist opens his eyes, breathless.

Aeris isn’t looking at him, but his glow is still bright. “I’m– Sorry, I’ve daydreamed of doing that for the longest time.”

Starmist shakes his head, shifting his hands so one cups the back of Aeris’s neck and one threads through his hair. Holding him close, keeping their foreheads pressed together. “Don’t be. It was new to me, but still good.”

Aeris glances at him, smiling shyly. “Want to 'practice' again?”

Starmist laughs, leaning in for a quick peck, relishing the thrill that goes through him. He reaches for Aeris’s hand, lacing their fingers and tugging him along, shooting him a smirk over his shoulder.

“Yes. But maybe somewhere where others can’t stare.”

-----

Aron grins stupidly, little rumbles coming from his chest. “Now that is a juicy story. So cute.”

Starmist rolls his eyes, but there’s a tiny smile on his face. It’s a good memory for him. “I suppose so.”

“You suppose?” Aron snorts. “That was more romantic – and cheesy – than anything I would get in the warband or the legions. I need to spend more time in the Grove, rather than Divinity’s Reach!”

“You’re fond of gossip.” Starmist states, side-eyeing him, the corner of his mouth twitching up. It’s a hilarious thought.

“If you’ve been raised on war, romances like this are a welcome respite.” Aron shrugs. “Don’t tell my legionnaire, she thinks I’m too soft as it is.”

“I won’t.”

A sharp shriek from the next room cuts their conversation short. Starmist is out of his seat immediately, even before he hears the thump.

He can feel Aron's bulk coming up behind him, but doesn’t stop, even when he slips and crashes into the doorframe. The pain is insignificant, compared to the terror he felt in that cry.

He doesn’t know what his eyes register first – Murasaki on the floor, scooting away with one hand covering her mouth; or Aeris, half-awake, risen half-out of the hammock, an arm stretching out towards his sister.

Even half-asleep he looks perfect.

Starmist runs to Murasaki to check if she’s hurt, shocked to see the tears on her face. He’s never seen – or felt – her this pained. “Mura…?”

It’s like she can’t hear him, her eyes still fixed on some faraway place. Little sobs escape her and the arm by her side is rigid; her fingers clench and relax in quick succession.

He kneels beside her, gently pressing his palms to her face to alert her before drawing her close. She buries her face in his shirt, one hand clenched in the material, one digging into his shoulder. He whispers reassuringly to her, one hand on the small of her back, the fingers of the other laced through her hair. Cradled this close, her sobs are audible, but he doesn’t understand them.

“Aeris… No, please… Please… No, no, no, come back…!”

Starmist glances up in confusion. Aron is distracting Aeris, talking softly to him. The sylvari's gesturing indicates his befuddlement as well.

Starmist strokes Murasaki’s hair, continuing to whisper soft reassurances to her. But her shaking only gets worse, her words a jumbled mess, alternating between don’t leave me and Aeris, no.

He doesn’t understand.

A nightmare?

It has to be, Aeris is right here.

A tentative hand on his shoulder makes him look up; he almost cracks his head on the wall as he jerks away. Aeris barely glances at him despite his violent reaction. “May I?”

Starmist slowly releases her, gently prying her fingers off him. He may not understand why Murasaki is so distressed despite her brother being right beside her, but they’ve always been good together. For each other.

He can trust in this.

Aeris doesn’t move away for privacy. He pulls Murasaki into his lap, brushing the tears from under her eyes, whispering urgently. It’s loud enough that Starmist can still hear him, and it only confuses him further.

“Shh. Shh. It’s alright, I’m here.”

“No, no, no. Don’t leave me, don’t abandon me.”

“I’m here. I’m here.”

“No. No. You’re not. My Aeris is gone…”

Does he imagine it, or does a pained expression cross Aeris’s face?

“Murasaki, please.”

Starmist is confounded. Aeris never calls her by her full name. What's going on?

“Mura. Mura. I'm here. I’m here.”

“You’re gone, you’re gone… You left me, you wouldn’t have me…”

“Shh. Shh. I’m here. I won’t leave you again.”

But her sobbing continues, and Starmist can’t stand it. He crawls over and places a hand on Aeris’s shoulder, murmuring to him as he glances over. “Press your forehead to hers.”

Aeris does so, still whispering to her, but it’s evident that she calms down almost immediately from the physical contact – her breathing stuttering but slowing, her eyes squeezed less tightly shut.

It gets stranger as Starmist watches – it’s all backward, what he’s witnessing now, as compared to what he saw years ago.

Murasaki turning her face up, eyes opening to look at her brother, but instead of leaning in, she inhales sharply, bites her lip and turns the other way. Her chest is heaving, breathing forced, heavy. Aeris doesn’t stop her or turn her head back, only pulling her in to rest against his chest, resting his chin atop her head. His hands sit awkwardly on her back, as if he doesn’t know how to hold her – but that’s not right, because he’s always known. He’s always known.

Hasn’t he?

Murasaki is quieter now, so Starmist scoots away, standing and walking around them. Neither twin looks up as he leaves and pulls a shocked Aron after him, taking them back to the kitchen.

Aron gestures wordlessly behind them, words failing him. His brows are knitted together. “That’s not the screaming you meant, is it?

Starmist shakes his head. “No. It used to be more surprised, and then there’d be a lot of laughing and shoving and cursing.”

“What’s that all about, then?”

Starmist looks back towards the other room, towards the friends he cannot see. “This once, I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Aron’s ears twitch, picking up in something in his tone. “Explain.”

“Aeris should know how to comfort her.” Saying his name is painful, but even more painful is admitting to himself that something is very wrong. “The way he holds her, the way he tries to console her… That’s not right. That’s not how he used to do it.”

“I knew it,” Aron mutters. “I knew a ghost was possessing him.”

It’s such a ridiculous notion that Starmist barks out a laugh. “Maybe, but… It’s like he’s forgotten how to do it. How’s that possible? They’ve been together forever.”

Aron glances at him. “This is gonna sound weird coming from me, but… I've only known him a few years, and he’s always like this around her.”

“What?” Starmist is taken aback.

“Yeah. The Commander’s only stayed with us a few times, but every time we’ll hear her screaming in the middle of the night and it always takes ages for her to calm down, whether Aeris is there or not. We always thought it was the PTSD – y'know, what with her being the Commander and all.”

Starmist knows what PTSD is and understands what Aron is trying to say. All the wars she’s fought, all the people she’s lost and the sacrifices she’s had to make. All the soldiers she’s sent to their deaths.

Yet what he heard Murasaki saying doesn’t add up to that.

He mutters, half to himself, “She’s always calmed down when he’s there. At least, she did, but that was years ago. I haven’t seen them together in a long time…”

Another thought occurs to him, and Starmist’s eyes flick up to Aron's. “Hey, Mura was saying something about Aeris abandoning her. Know anything about that?”

“What?” Aron looks startled. “He’s always clinging to her, ever since he found her again. Why would he abandon her?”

“Found her again?”

Again?

“Yeah, me and him went to see Tribune Brimstone when he got summoned back to the Citadel. The tribune mistook him for the Commander, who was still in the Heart of Maguuma at the time. I suppose they were reunited after that – the tribune kicked me out of the room at that point, and then I didn’t see either of them for weeks. My guess is the tribune took him to her.” Aron shoots him a concerned look. “You didn’t know about that?”

Starmist can’t answer, but he supposes the look on his face says enough.

“Why would he abandon her?”

Aron’s mutter is soft, more contemplative than a real question, but Starmist still finds himself answering.

(He tries to pretend that his voice isn’t as broken as he feels inside.)

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know.

But the Grove is quiet again, and neither of them really dare to check on the twins.

Or to ask.

#guild wars 2 #murasaki hikyuu #starmist whisper #aeris blizzardglade #aron blizzardglade #my writing #my characters #angst #some incest insinuations

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foursprout-blog · 6 years

Text

25 Things You Absolutely Need To Learn Before 25

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/25-things-you-absolutely-need-to-learn-before-25-2/

25 Things You Absolutely Need To Learn Before 25

Ryan Christodoulou

Before we begin: the original article on things you need to learn before you are 25 was published in 2005 and it is still relevant today as it was eighteen years ago. But in that time a lot more people have come of age, so I thought an homage wouldn’t hurt. (And yes, I write for myself as much as I do for you.)

1. Doing chores without complaining

Chores are a non-optional part of having your own space, like electric bills and not making renovations without checking in with the landlord first. Yes, ironing is work. Now you know how your parents feel.

2. “There’s no roaches” is not an acceptable standard of cleanliness

It’s unlikely that somebody will show up, cook a ten course meal, and then demand to eat it straight from your floor. You still want to be able to see the floor, have clean dishes, and a worktop that doesn’t have a six-month patina of dry pasta sauce and oil stains.

3. Putting things off that can be done in three minutes is unacceptable

The more you put something off, the guiltier you feel when you are reminded of it, the less you want to do it, the more guilt piles on. It’s a vicious circle. Just scrub the toilet and scan in the document to verify your medical insurance.

4. Respect people working in the service industry

I’m a former customer service rep, and now I teach alongside my PhD. Most of my friends have either worked or are currently doing some sort of customer-facing job. I can verify we are as human as anybody else. We are being paid to do work, not to take abuse. Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and hold the curse words. It’s not that difficult.

5. Learn how to feed yourself

No, I’m not saying you should be a master chef or even versed in the fine art of reading nutrition labels. I’m saying, figure out what food you like, what it feels like to be hungry or full, then go about procuring said food so that you are fed at reasonable hours. Mooching off your roommates, or taking their stuff without replacing it, is not cool, and an invitation for someone to put laxatives in the milk.

6. Understand the value of a psychologist

I can write a whole piece on this. If you never have to visit a shrink in your life, that’s great. Shitting on people who do – not so much. A mental health professional is like any doctor. You wouldn’t ask any stranger off the street to do your root canal for free.

7. Your significant other/friends/family are not free emotional labor

Do people in relationships provide each other with support? Yes. Do they do that 24/7, nonstop, and unconditionally? No. Human beings experience compassion fatigue. The difference between your girlfriend and a counselor is that the counselor is trained to listen, and gets a pension out of it.

8. It’s okay not to respond to provocation

Chances are, the person egging you on is in more pain than you are. Pick your battles. Live to fight another day.

9. Knowing the battles you absolutely HAVE to fight for

Things like ending childhood poverty and ensuring equal workspaces for all ethnicities and genders isn’t “nice to do”, it’s something we should all be striving for because we live on the same damn planet, treating each other fairly is NOT too much to ask for.

10. Knowing your own boundaries

Conversely, you know that behavior that you hate but you put up with from your boyfriend? The demanding of emotional labor, the backhanded compliments or the outright abuse? What would happen if you told him to stop doing that? Or you asked your girlfriend to not talk down at you in front of your friends? Would they apologize and stop? Would they leave? Would leaving be such a bad thing?

11. Respecting divergent tastes, including your own

You like to read romance novels while your friends are into high-brow, cerebral murder mysteries? You don’t have to paint a coat of irony on top in order to justify it. And don’t go looking down your nose at people who love classic noir – you can think of Hitchcock as an overhyped misogynist bully without saying that Every. Time. Someone. Brings up. The birds.

12. Having the guts to ask for the things you want

A promotion? A date? Some peace so that you can study for your legal exams? Other people are not mind-readers, they can’t know what you’re thinking unless you tell them. Maybe your boss will say no, or that beautiful human you admire is in a relationship, but maybe they are not, and most non-arseholes will respect your need for quiet during a stressful period. You cannot expect others to guess your needs and desires. At some point, you have to stand up for what you want.

13. Learning to take ‘no’ for an answer

You don’t need a million life partners, friends, awards, or jobs (in fact, having a million jobs at once is highly discouraged.) What you need are people who are right for you and an occupation that you don’t utterly despise. Throwing a tantrum when you hear ‘no’ is what toddlers do. And even they get over it eventually.

14. Taking your safety seriously

Abuse is not sexy and if someone threatens you, take it seriously. Sock away money, hide, call the police, SAVE YOURSELF.

15. Acting with integrity whenever you can

Aside from putting yourself in harm’s way (see point 14) being an adult means acting with integrity regardless of whether you find the task pleasurable or not. You want to break up? Don’t cheat as a way out of a relationship. You hate your boss? Look for another job, but don’t go undermining them or poisoning the water for everyone who continues to work there.

16. Holding off on unsolicited advice

Unless someone asks you for advice (or you think they are at risk of immediate physical harm) don’t give your opinions on other people’s lives. You don’t approve of your friend’s diet? Keep it to yourself. You think your brother is dating a loser? It’s not your relationship. Judging other people doesn’t inspire them to change their behavior, it makes them reluctant to come to you for support.

17. Recognizing when something is above your paygrade

Your friend wants to make health changes? Help them make an appointment with a doctor and take them there, but don’t give them advice you’re not qualified to give. Yes, even if you are a doctor yourself. Aside from the fact that this would mean readjusting your relationship, do you honestly want to clock out of work and then go hang out at the pub and do EVEN MORE WORK?

18. Respecting other people’s wishes

Your friend shares something with you under strict secrecy. You think other people need to know. How do you proceed? The sad state of affairs is, there are very few cases when making a unilateral decision to break secrecy are justified. Knowing your boundaries might help you field off any situations where you feel like your personal ethics might stop you from respecting other people’s wishes, but don’t assume you know what is best for another adult.

19. Relationships are WORK

It’s not uncommon to fall out of contact with university mates, childhood besties, and beloved mentors. Life is an egg juggling act where you are constantly subtracting or adding items. Sooner or later you will drop some eggs. Try not to beat yourself up if you lose touch – if you want to reach out again when the juggling eases up, you absolutely can.

20. Trust that others will put in the effort for you, too

Here’s the thing: some relationships ARE lopsided for reasons that we have no control over. Bodies get sick, emergencies hit, and the weather does not give advanced warning to anybody. There are times when we are the ones doing the heavy lifting to maintain a relationship. The problem is when you are ALWAYS the one sacrificing “because it’s what friends do”. What if you stepped back and let the other person put in the effort, too? Is that a scary question? Why?

21. Calling bullshit on what it is

You want a relationship and some dude tries to negotiate down to FWB? Call bullshit. Your friend makes plans with you and expects you to foot the bill? Call bullshit. Your boss is calling you 24/7 on your sick days as if you are working from home? Politely tell them that you would not want to risk your team’s performance when you are not at 100%, and if they persist with that behavior, start exploring (covertly) your options. Don’t be a doormat (yes, I am talking to my 24-year-old self. WTF were you thinking?!)

22. You can absolutely survive without narcissists

Necessity, systematic oppression, and illness are all real factors that impact our lives differently. Some people DO have to put up with a lot of shit for the sake of their survival. But there are also many (many many many many many) others who accept terrible treatment at the hands of narcissists, because they are convinced they cannot survive without them. Don’t fall for this.

23. Knowing what matters to you and working for it

Yes, yes, budgeting is important. I know that you know. I’m talking about the bigger picture – where do you want to live? How do you want to live? What sorts of things matter to you? Where do you want to be in 5, 10, 15, 20 years’ time? I realize I sound like some preppy blogger with shiny hair, telling you to Make A Plan, but guess what? Keeping your visions of the future vague and undefined makes you seem like you don’t care about anything. In job interviews? That’s deadly.

24. Progress is not always linear

Sometimes you will take a step back. That’s okay, that allows you to heal and reevaluate. You wouldn’t expect someone to keep running a marathon if they twist their ankle on the second mile. You would get them some ice and a cupcake and tell them they will annihilate their PB next year.

25. It’s all just a number

Sometimes age matters, such as when you are evaluating your retirement options or when you work with a lot of children and teenagers. It also matters when you try to figure out why a man would only date girls who are half his age (answer: because no woman his age would put up with that bullshit). Other than that? Age doesn’t have to Be A Thing. Don’t make it one, and don’t let others take issue with it either.

We’re just getting started here. And we can make it awesome.

#Happiness

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foursprouthappiness-blog · 6 years

Text

25 Things You Absolutely Need To Learn Before 25

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/25-things-you-absolutely-need-to-learn-before-25-2/

25 Things You Absolutely Need To Learn Before 25

Ryan Christodoulou

1. Doing chores without complaining

2. “There’s no roaches” is not an acceptable standard of cleanliness

3. Putting things off that can be done in three minutes is unacceptable

4. Respect people working in the service industry

5. Learn how to feed yourself

6. Understand the value of a psychologist

7. Your significant other/friends/family are not free emotional labor

8. It’s okay not to respond to provocation

Chances are, the person egging you on is in more pain than you are. Pick your battles. Live to fight another day.

9. Knowing the battles you absolutely HAVE to fight for

10. Knowing your own boundaries

11. Respecting divergent tastes, including your own

12. Having the guts to ask for the things you want

13. Learning to take ‘no’ for an answer

14. Taking your safety seriously

Abuse is not sexy and if someone threatens you, take it seriously. Sock away money, hide, call the police, SAVE YOURSELF.

15. Acting with integrity whenever you can

16. Holding off on unsolicited advice

17. Recognizing when something is above your paygrade

18. Respecting other people’s wishes

19. Relationships are WORK

20. Trust that others will put in the effort for you, too

21. Calling bullshit on what it is

22. You can absolutely survive without narcissists

23. Knowing what matters to you and working for it

24. Progress is not always linear

25. It’s all just a number

We’re just getting started here. And we can make it awesome.

#Happiness

0 notes

purplesurveys · 7 years

Text

128

How do you feel about fire drills? They’re necessary at least for us since the Philippines has been a hotspot for earthquakes recently - but I just get so lazy every time classes have to be cut off because we have to gather outside and deal with sirens and firetrucks. Do your socks usually match? Yeah, I make sure they do. The idea of them mismatching is unsettling for me. Would you date your best friend? I already am. It’s turned out pretty damn well, I think. Whats your favorite weather like? I love love love when it’s dark and the air is cold. Rain or no rain is fine - I live mostly for the cold. How do you determine if a band is good or not? What do you look for most? There’s no one thing I’m looking for, really. As long as I find the song catchy and finding myself wanting to listen to it, and even that’s unpredictable every time. Are you addicted to anything? If so, what? No. That’s a sensitive word… What’s your favorite movie genre? Horror, drama, romantic comedy. Have you ever had an inside joke based on a quote from a movie, book, etc? Sure, I may have a few of those with Gabie. What do you want to do as a future career? I’m not looking for a particular path anymore at this point. Just something useful I can do with my journalism degree would be great. If you were pregnant right now what would you do? Who would be the father? Highly impossible. But in a very hypothetical sense, I would keep the kid. Whether I would raise it or give it up for adoption is something I can’t see anymore; but abortion isn’t an option for me. As for the father, fuck knows lol. Would you rather bake or cook a meal? Bake. It’s more precise and more prone to mistakes, but I have more fun doing it and at least I don’t have to deal with being splashed on with oil. If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be? Job security. LOL. I’m getting so old so fast. What’s going to be the first song at your wedding? I really REALLY love Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine. Twilight did a good job making it such a feelsy song. But I don’t know if that’s still suitable for a wedding ten or fifteen years down the line haha. What’s something only you think is cute/funny? I don’t think there is anything; there’s always at least one other person who agrees with me when it comes to things like that. What do you find attractive in the opposite sex? Our guy friends sometimes treats us food, which is nice. Otherwise, none. Do you ever compare yourself to members of the same sex? Like in general? It’s unavoidable. What’s the perfect snack when you want to relax? Pizza. Would you rather have a few friends over & order in a pizza or go out? I always love going out with friends. Staying in with pizza is only good if it’s happening at Chelsea’s house. They have a veranda reserved for parties, her dad is a jokester and her mom makes food for us too so it’s always fun. Not to mention she has the sweetest 1 year old German Shepherd, too. If you could change any situation in your life what would it be? Having a conservative, homophobic family. Like if they tilt their views *just a little bit*, it would greatly help. Do you listen to music while you work/study? Nope. That doesn’t work for me. Describe a person you wouldn’t be able to live with? Someone who starts their sentences with, “well not all men…” “what men like is…” anything of the sort. I’m kind of heated about that now, since I’m seated at Starbucks and have no choice but to listen to a woman give such misogynistic advice to her fellow woman friend who has husband issues. Definitely not someone I’d want to ask advice from. What’s your favorite thing to do in your spare time? I like watching videos on YouTube. They provide enough distraction for me. If you could learn the subjects you wanted to what would they be? World history, geography, biology, Spanish, Korean. What’s a weird food only you like to eat? I eat mayonnaise with my tilapia, and thought it was normal until my friends were repulsed when they saw me eating it. If you could relive one memory what would it be? This is different on any given day, but right now I’d want to go back to any good memory I had in high school. Those geneuinely mean a lot. What super power do you want most of all? Time travel, but to be invisible for all of it so I don’t mess anything up. Is there a celebrity that you’d be willing to have a one night stand with? Hahaha. I always say I’m game for Kristen Stewart, but I think I’ll be too intimidated for real. Describe the perfect concert-lineup, arena, weather, w/e? I have a vast taste in artists, so I think if they'reput together it would really suck. Like I’m pretty sure putting Kendrick Lamar and Against Me! and St. Vincent in one show will never work. Do you like family restaurants or really fancy ones? I like both. Great food is what I’m here for. Are you more of a city person or a country person? why? City, because I’ve never experienced living in the province (closest thing the PH has to what the US calls ‘country.’) I’ve been around long enough to be fully reliant on internet and electricity and kitchen appliances that moving to the province would entail a really big adjustment. Do you want to live in your current town the rest of your life? Hell no. I’ll get a job, save up enough, and move out the first chance I get. What’s a negative thing about your town? Nothing ever really happens here. It’s the city right beside Metro Manila where everything takes place, so this is just pretty much where everyone passes through. Nothing special. A positive? Everyone lives near each other so that’s convenient. Would your rather drown to death or burn to death? Drown. They say burning is the most painful way to go, so I’ll have to pass on that. How many years longer are you hoping to live? 81. What song describes your typical mood? Or your current mood? I don’t think there’s any song that says “I have to pee and the table beside me is way too noisy. Also when is Gabie coming back?” If you found out today your best friend was gay what would you do? I found that out three years ago. I simply told her 'okay,’ because it’s the sort of thing that should be normalized. Congratulating is fine, but I prefer not to do that especially with Gab. I know she wouldn’t like if I made it a big deal and told her congrats, I’m proud of you, happy for you, etc. Describe the perfect kiss or date. I’m dying to have a fine dining date. With our actual hard-earned money. Do you have a special material item you hold sentimental value to? There are lots of items I view that way. Would you ever throw a dart at a map and go where it lands if you could afford it? Yes, if I had the time and money. Where would you hope it lands? (Continued from last morning) Chicago, although I have to have a good aim to hit just Illinois lol. Do you take care of yourself or do your parents help you out financially? I don’t have a job as of yet, so they take care of everything money. If you could get a pet for free today-what kind/what name? A golden ret named Theo. If you won 100 million dollars what would you do with it first? LOL maybe settle everything my parents have to (house, cars, etc.) because I’m sure they will nag me as if I owe them anything. Once they’re off my back I’ll probably save the rest of it, since it’s stupid and impractical to just run away with it. How many people have you slept with? One. Does true love wait? Hold on there, Disney. I mean yeah I guess it does but idk this is too poetic lol. What’s a huge turn off? Being too Catholic, based from 19 years of experience in a predominantly Catholic country. Or smoking. I can’t pick. Do you dig people with lots of body mods? Tattoos, yeah. If you could pick up on any instrument what would you choose? PIANOOOOOO. Any language? Japanese would be a huge help. Also want to learn Korean and Spanish. If you had your own business, what would it be? Nope nope nope. Do you ever wish you had a family business to become a part of? Kind of, yeah. It would admittedly be more convenient because at least I have something to fall back on if something doesn’t work out. What’s the most gruesome way you could come up with to kill someone? I dunno, look up people like Ed Gein or John Wayne Gacy or that dude who used a pre-recorded tape before he murdered his victims. Ask them. Do you think anyone deserves to die that way? Just those serial killers and anyone as heinous as they were. If you had to fight for survival, what would your weapon of choice be? Meh. Maybe the invincible tanks from GTA San Andreas so I can be untouched. Omg! Zombies are attacking. Where do you go, who do you find, whatta ya do? I’ve watched The Walking Dead long enough to know that I just wanna be one of the first to go lol. What’s in it for me in the end? All I will see are guts and undead loved ones and broken down cars and expired food. What cellphone is the best in your opinion? I dunno. I’m happy with my iPhone, but Apple can be so problematic and I know it’s not the best one out there. I’m sure there are better models, but just don’t know enough about phones to pick which one. Do you flip your pillow over to lay on the cool/cold side? Sometimes. I never picked it up as a habit. Stop playing with yourself! What are you going to do now? Finish my breakfast then maybe another survey.

#survey #surveys

0 notes

foursprout-blog · 6 years

Text

25 Things You Absolutely Need To Learn Before 25

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/25-things-you-absolutely-need-to-learn-before-25/

25 Things You Absolutely Need To Learn Before 25

Ryan Christodoulou

1. Doing chores without complaining

2. “There’s no roaches” is not an acceptable standard of cleanliness

3. Putting things off that can be done in three minutes is unacceptable

4. Respect people working in the service industry

5. Learn how to feed yourself

6. Understand the value of a psychologist

7. Your significant other/friends/family are not free emotional labor

8. It’s okay not to respond to provocation

Chances are, the person egging you on is in more pain than you are. Pick your battles. Live to fight another day.

9. Knowing the battles you absolutely HAVE to fight for

10. Knowing your own boundaries

11. Respecting divergent tastes, including your own

12. Having the guts to ask for the things you want

13. Learning to take ‘no’ for an answer

14. Taking your safety seriously

Abuse is not sexy and if someone threatens you, take it seriously. Sock away money, hide, call the police, SAVE YOURSELF.

15. Acting with integrity whenever you can

16. Holding off on unsolicited advice

17. Recognizing when something is above your paygrade

18. Respecting other people’s wishes

19. Relationships are WORK

20. Trust that others will put in the effort for you, too

21. Calling bullshit on what it is

22. You can absolutely survive without narcissists

23. Knowing what matters to you and working for it

24. Progress is not always linear

25. It’s all just a number

We’re just getting started here. And we can make it awesome.

#Happiness

0 notes

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