If a face, as Johann Gottfried Herder says, is nothing more than a Spiegelkammer of the spirit, then we should be a little frightened of Keats's variety of expressions. [...] Keats is unable to contemplate himself. His gift is not knowing how to reconcile himself. The identity of a person who is in the room with him presses in and cancels his own out in a flash. When Keats speaks, he's not sure he's the one talking.

"John Keats", in These Possible Lives, Fleur Jaeggy

Why do you think Tim kept his breakup with Ashely a “secret” from Lucy? Like why didn’t he want to tell her?

My guess is that, at first, he probably didn't want to talk about it. At all. Tim is already not the type of person to easily open up on the best of days, and this wasn't a good day. So I can see why he would not want to have this conversation, especially while he was at the hospital. There was no way to escape which put him in an extremely vulnerable position. Besides, he most likely needed time to process the break-up too. He was just waking up from a major surgery, still feeling the effects of the anesthesia, when Ashley decided to call it quits, and Lucy showed up a few hours later. It was too fresh. He needed some time for himself, to lick his wounds so to speak. On top of that, he was also having a moment with Lucy : it was the closest they got to normal since Vegas. I can understand the instinct to stay on safer topics and the desire to linger in that moment. Talking about the break-up could have made things awkward again, forced them to acknowledge the elephant in the room and honestly, I doubt he was ready for that.

As for later, once he was back at work… Well, the fact that they were at the station couldn't have helped… it's hardly the most private place. It's one thing to talk about personal matters in the shop : there's still a sense of privacy - despite the cameras. But at the station : decidedly not. Which brings us to the other issue : the first time he saw Lucy at work, she was laughing with Chris. Judging from the way he greeted them, it's clear that he shut down. This encounter just brought back so many things to the surface that he didn't want to deal with. Hence the extra grumpiness. There was a moment later in the episode, when he confronted Lucy in the bullpen : it looked like she was getting through to him. But he chickened out. And we come to the crux of the matter. Telling Lucy meant coming to terms with his feelings for her. He could no longer hide behind his "I'm with Ashley so I can't have feelings for Lucy" any longer. He was pining and was trying to hold on to his denial as long as possible. And there might have been a bit of fear in the mix. Because what if he tells her and that changes everything? Or what if he tells her and it doesn't change anything?

It is extremely telling that in the end, he did fess up, but only once Lucy admitted feeling like she had overstepped his boundaries. The scavenger hunt was her way of trying to reach out and cheer him up, despite not knowing why he was upset, and I think that a part of him actually enjoyed this little game between them. As the senior officer, he could have just ordered her to give him back his radio otherwise. But the second she became unsure, he told her about the break-up and promptly reassured her that she didn't overstep anything, that he was touched by her attention - and intention… And that's the irony : all this time, he didn't want to talk about it, only for him to practically treat it as an afterthought. In that moment, he was more focused on making sure Lucy knew how much he appreciated her gesture. I'll always be curious as to what he was going to say before Chris' interruption by the way. But in any case, his defeated posture when he saw Lucy leave with her boyfriend makes me believe that this was precisely why he was keeping it a secret.

And lastly, in terms of storytelling, it was a way to showcase how Tim and Lucy's dynamic was still a bit off-balance. They were tiptoeing around the other, and while they had made headway at the hospital, things were still awkward between them. At least, that's how I interpreted it :)

Don't Wait Up

Ineffable Husbands, Ineffable Dads, Light Angst, Mentions of Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Crowley, Child!OC

Ineffable Dads Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!

Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!

Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.

Word Count: 1.9K

Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score. 

She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up.  The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.

His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.

He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.

It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.

That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.

With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so.  No point in pretending to read.  She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.

Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.

“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”

She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs.  The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.

“Dear, are you alright?”

Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing.  She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.

Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.

“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”

“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly.  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.

“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”

He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.

“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”

“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.

“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk.  What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”

He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.

“Belle what have I told you about lying?”

“You do it all the time.”

He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”

“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame.  “Now that is completely off the subject.”

There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.

He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”

Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst.  He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good.  For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him. 

A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.

There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out.  He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.

“What happened,” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly.  “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”

The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”

“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear.  I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”

Crowley nodded.  “Right, best let me take the lead.”

“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.

“Tough love.”

He then turned his attention up the stairs.

“Izz! I’m coming up!”

It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered.  And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.

“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”

“No!”

“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”

He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.

Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.

“That’s not fair!” she shouted.

“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion.  Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human.  It’s a very human thing to do.  Now can’t I just cry?!”

It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one. 

Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her.  He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug.  “There, there, it will be alright.”

Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.

“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.

She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke.  I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”

“What joke was that?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Isabelle,” Crowley said.

That got both their attentions. 

Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.

The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.

“It was all a joke,” she said quietly.  “Thomas asking me out.  It was all a joke.”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.

“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did.  After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner.  So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”

She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.

“They just thought it was really funny.  I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”

The tears were flowing freely now.

“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid.  I’m so stupid.”

She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.

“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming.  You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”

She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words.  Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him.  He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for.  That’s it.  Just let it all out.”

Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks.  His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze.  Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.

Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning.  She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said.  “It’s going to take a while to recover from this.  She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”

“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that.  You got this angel?”

“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who. 

He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause.  He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him.  Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.

What are your thoughts on Chromedome and Brainstorm (their friendship is sooooo !!!!!!!!! to me like two assholes who’ve clung to each other for millions of years and yeah CD calls himself Bstorm’s only friend but he doesn’t seem to have a very extensive social network himself BUT IDK THO…)

yeah!! I think Brainstorm and Chromedome are actually very similar in that regard, there's just a bit more focus on Chromedome and his interactions with others throughout the comic which might give off the impression that he has "friends" when he does not - at least not close ones (see his interactions with Rodimus, Drift, etc; Skids stands out as one of the few people who makes attempts at reaching out to him, but he's very bad about recognizing when his friends need help [see Swerve] and so that doesn't really go anywhere) kind of just shows how important Brainstorm is to him and vice-versa.

another thing they both struggle with is living in the present - it's a bit more obvious with Brainstorm because that is literally the crux of his arc, and it might seem out of character for CD given that his thing is forgetting, but his lack of close relationships is also the result of kinda just watching as things happen rather than making an effort to hold on to people. it's kind of amazing that they've stuck around each other for so long given all of this and everything else, but it's also just because they both feel love so deeply, and they both care about each other so much!!! they've got each other's backs no matter what.

their relationship goes wayyy back to the New Institute, a very dark time in CD's life, where Brainstorm witnessed his friend's suffering firsthand - he can understand and empathize with it because it's similar to what he's felt before himself. this doesn't come to a head until the Overlord arc, which just shows the lengths Brainstorm is willing to go to for the people he loves. I'm not saying anything here that hasn't been said before regarding the Time Case and Chromedome, but the fact that Brainstorm so quickly chooses to jeopardize his own existence and modify his Big Project (one originally intended solely for his own satisfaction) after seeing his only friend fall into such a deep grief that he feels partially responsible for is just... aghhh. his friend is worth all of that and more. it just says a lot that it is Chromedome who caused that change in him. another thing - Brainstorm's not exactly on "friendly" terms with Rewind until after Elegant Chaos, but it's their strong relationships with Chromedome that kind of helps bridge that gap between them. it's so................... there's a lot going on there and the BS/CD/RW dynamic is kind of really fun to think about too, not necessarily in a ship sense but just in general.

but yeah outside of ALL OF THAT... yeah they're both assholes and their dynamic is so fun, they have a lot of great banter going on. there's also that other aspect of their relationship where they do care about each other but also do things that hurt each other - a good example of this is the way Chromedome doesn't even wait until Brainstorm is out of the room to pull his needles out in 16, or the way that it seems Brainstorm has never objected to Chromedome injecting despite presumably being aware of the consequences it has on him and his health. what are friends for ^_^

ship-wise though - it's fun to think about CD being Brainstorm's first kiss or something back at the New Institute. I don't think they could feasibly go anywhere further than that because of what they each have going on, especially during that time, but still. fun!

if they’re so similar then tell us ten things that delphi and voldemort share in common

1.) It's his own eyes staring back up at him on Bellatrix's face. He pauses, having never thought he'd see the exact shade in such perfect clarity again. The familiarity of it shakes him so much that he hands the child immediately back to Bellatrix, a strong grip from a little hand finally releasing his finger. It takes him a long while to get used to it.

2.) He recognize's his own flawless eyebrows on her next. They are thinner than Bella's, and stretch a bit longer - they're also less expressive. They frame the child's eyes (his eyes) perfectly and unmistakably. When she looks at her mother (and when she looks at him, too) there is a glimmer of love sparkling in her eyes, and a wrinkle of affection in those brows. He wonders if he'd ever looked at anyone like that.

3.) She's a born Legilimens. He's not sure why it surprises him, Bellatrix's Legilimency skills are almost as well honed as her Occlumency, and the ability has always been second nature to him. It's interesting, watching a child attempt to navigate the doorway into other's minds. He doesn’t remember how he’d handled it.

4.) When she smiles, it's Tom Riddle's perfect smile. Nothing crooked about it, a row of perfect pearly teeth on full display. No one else really recognize's that it's his, aside from Bella, he supposes. Delphini’s smile reaches her eyes though.

5.) He understands that jealousy is a common emotion, especially among young children. But the look she gives baby Scorpius as he bounces in Draco's arms, the hatred simmering in those dark eyes, it's painfully familiar to him. She's seethes in silence, the same way he had. He wonders how long it will be until little baby Scorpius gets mysteriously hurt, enough so that he finally asks Bella about it months later. The babe is in perfect health, and a part of him is surprised to hear it.

6.) The first time she picks up her new yew wand it's in her left hand. She holds it the same way he does - slender fingers caressing above the handle, the crux of it balanced almost carelessly in her palm. It looks as though it would slip right past her fingers with one strong flick, but it doesn't. As if magic itself is commanding it to stay. He smiles.

7.) She works a room in a way that is impressive even to him, for one so young. The entirety of Wizarding Britain eating out of the palm of her hand in minutes. She knows just how to act her age, and more importantly when not too - it's an entirely different type of witchcraft. He watches her pensively, and is surprised when an emotion close to pride seems to slither through him. She has his charisma and her mother's face.. She'll be lethal one day.

8.) Her affinity for dark magic does not come as a surprise to him. He'd been expecting that since the moment he felt her kick within her mother's womb, and was forced to rationalize what a daughter of theirs might grow to be like. She's much older when the consequences of such dark spells are staring him in the face following an unusually invigorating training session. She looks up to him from her bowed position, a streak of scarlet shinning brightly in each of her irises. It fades quickly. Overtime, he begin to consistently notice a flash of crimson in her gaze following assignments and missions. It doesn't seem nearly as permanent as his own, but certainly seems unique to only them.

9.) They're all engaged in ferocious combat when out of the corner of his eyes he sees Bellatrix fall. She'd been surrounded by over ten former Order Members, and one curse managed to slip just below an outstretched arm. He turns at once, and doesn't even notice his daughter stepping with him in tandem. They both scream, the same raging shriek, before an identical stream of red erupts from each of their wands. They meet at Bella's side in the same second, not even moments later. It's not until after Bellatrix is well again that he realizes just how in sync their reactions were.

10.) They never really had to remind Delphini that she is above everyone else. From a young age she seems to know it, exuding a confidence well beyond any of her peers. He blames Bellatrix. That Black blood brews vanity. She seems peeved at his remark, and is quick to remind him just how humble he's always been - 'along with all the rest of the Gaunts'. He goes rigid, but eventually concedes.. Salazar wasn't exactly known for his modesty, after all..

Division. Yan Scaramouche x Reader [Implied x Yan Childe]

Warnings: Kidnapping, unwanted physical contact and implied suggestive themes. Word count: 1.3k.

While your body might be sore, it’s your arms that feel the worst.

They’re hoisted above your head with a rope secured tight around your wrists, longing for an opportunity to rest. You’ve been standing in this awkward position for many miserable hours. No windows in this dreary cobblestone prison make it difficult to tell the time or to find anything interesting to look at. There’s still no clear indication as to why you’ve ended up in this nightmare, much less when it will end. The person you’re assuming to be in charge has been subjecting you to malicious verbal jabs for the entire duration of your confinement.

“Truth be told,” he circles you like a hawk, his tone deceitfully sweet as honey, stopping only to admire your immobilized form. “I wasn’t sure what the appeal to you was at first.” 

Scaramouche leans forward, soft strands of indigo hair brushing against your face as he closes the distance. He runs a finger over your exposed collarbone, mirth dancing in his eyes at the goosebumps following in its wake. “But now… I think I’m starting to get it.” 

Mustering up your strength and courage, you narrow your eyes, glaring daggers at your captor. He’s thrilled at the sight, unable to hold back his laughter. The finger tails up, to the crux of your neck, which he then wraps his hand around. Your pulse accelerates at the unwelcome sensation, an element he doesn’t miss.

“You’re… you’re Fatui, right?” You inquire, refusing to take this torment in silence. Curious, he nods his head, the pad of his thumb rubbing up and down your neck slowly. 

“If this is about the Northland bank loan, then you’re making a mistake. I’ve already cleared things up with your boss.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, you regret them. Scaramouche’s mischievous attitude dissipates, his eyes piercing through you and a scowl on his face. The tension in the room rises to new heights, thick and palpable. 

“‘My boss’, you say,” he repeats with an irate click of his tongue as if it were the highest insult. “Tartaglia is no such thing, I can assure you.” 

What can this be about then? Your final line of defense is crumbling, now aware that using Childe’s favor on you won’t be viable. It felt reprehensible to use it in the first place, but lowering yourself to such a level would’ve been inconsequential if it earned your freedom. Instead, it’s done the opposite, adding kindling to the flame. Never have you regretted anything in your life as much as your involvement with the Fatui bank. 

Scaramouche removes his hands from you, a minor victory. What you said must’ve struck a nerve. Swallowing thickly, your mind searches desperately for any plausible escape. While you deliberate a plan, he crosses his arms against his chest, mouth set in a straight line.

“Tell me. Do you enjoy his company?” Scaramouche asks with a tilt of his head.

Licking your dry lips, you consider the question. Denial is the obvious answer, but speaking ill of a Harbinger feels like a death wish. Though he did seem rather displeased by mentioning Childe. Just when you thought you were beginning to understand the situation, that self-assuredness has been stolen, leaving more questions in its wake.

Testing your luck, you reveal the truth with a strained rebuttal. “No, I don’t.” 

More laughter. He doubles over, clutching his stomach as if your serious confession is the funniest joke he’s heard his entire life. This unabashed cruelty is a far cry from Childe’s code of conduct. Childe prefers to openly flirt with you, acting coquettish, whispering dirty promises into your ear. Scaramouche’s methodology is entirely different. He revels in your discomfort, actively saying anything to gain a reaction, positive or negative. With a preference for the latter.

“Ah, what a shame he didn’t get to hear you say that,” Scaramouche wipes the corners of his dark eyes, laughter finally settling down. “I’d give anything to see what his reaction would’ve been.”

“Are you two… enemies, or something…?” 

“He certainly thinks so now. I’m interested to see what Tartaglia plans to do, due to the fact Harbingers are forbidden to fight one another,” he hums, wrapping his fingers around a strand of your hair and playing with it. “Just how far would he go? I’m not sure myself, but I can’t wait to see.” 

The word Harbingers rings in your head like a funeral toll. Does that mean Scaramouche is one as well? It would explain his lack of concern for Childe’s combat prowess if he has similar capabilities. When he first approached you, there was no doubting the power he possessed, even with a smaller stature. Why is it these terrible individuals are drawn to you like a moth to a flame? Why are the Archons subjecting you to such torment?

“Another question. Just how far has Tartaglia gone with--” 

“My lord!” A booming voice interrupts, capturing the attention of you both. A person dressed in what you’ve come to recognize as Fatui’s uniform appears, bowing before a less than pleased Scaramouche. 

“Lord Childe is demanding to speak with you,” The agent relays. “I know you said not to interrupt, but, this seems rather urgent.” 

Scaramouche sighs, releasing your hair with a frown. “That was faster than I anticipated.” 

So he was expecting this from the start. Is it relief that you feel? Your emotions are a mess, due to a lack of eating and bodily fatigue. While Childe is unpleasant company, Scaramouche is equally awful, even going so far as to restrain you. You curse yourself for almost preferring being subjected to Childe’s self-serving antics over this. At least Childe gives an illusion of freedom, even if you know it’s only that, an unobtainable reality. When he doesn’t make any movement to leave, the agent speaks up again. “My lord? What should I do?” 

“Did you tell him to leave?” “As you commanded to, yes. I’m afraid he... insisted.” 

“Of course the lovesick puppy did,” Scaramouche shakes his head. “No matter. I’ll deal with this myself. Head back and tell him to await my arrival.” 

The term ‘lovesick puppy’ brings questions anew, as you’re solid in the belief what Childe feels for you isn’t love. Voicing this sentiment won’t get you anywhere, so you resolve to hold your tongue, silently steaming in your indignation. 

The agent’s body stiffens and they clear their throat. “T-that’s the other issue, my lord. I’m afraid he’s… coming as we speak.” 

Scaramouche doesn’t seem visibly bothered by the revelation, treating it as a mild thorn in his side than an urgent dilemma. You’re left speechless by the unfolding events, looking past the kneeling agent expectantly. Would you finally be able to leave this awful prison? You’d be going into the hands of one madman to the other’s, but the option is sounding oddly appealing at the moment. 

Scaramouche returns his attention to you, appearing pleased with himself. “Be sure to tell him what you said to me earlier.” 

Shifting uncomfortably where you stand, you look to the side, preferring not to be subject to his scrutinizing gaze. Objecting to Childe has never ended well for you. Then there’s the problem of Scaramouche -- how would he react to blatant disobedience -- is it possible his response would be worse for you? While you consider these things, Scaramouche starts to work on loosening your bonds. 

He presses his lips against your ear and the ropes hit the ground.

“Or I might just say it myself. Your choice.” 

The aftermath of the tempest

Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x GN reader Summary: Many, many years after Kaedehara Kazuha fled from Inazuma, a lot of things have changed, but his past burdens remain. Or, Kazuha has settled into his new life in Liyue, but still desires his home across the ocean. Words: ~2.7K Tags: Fluff, established relationship, Kaz and reader have a kid, gn pronouns for reader, kaz gets emotional at some point, implied beigguang as well

a/n: What's this? Rose is actually writing??!!

Read it on ao3!

The young girl furrows her brows, front teeth catching her lip as she stares at the board. She's in deep concentration, barely paying any mind to the sweets or the apple cider (poured within a much too expensive cup) beside her.

Her opponent, on the other hand, is the opposite, holding a cup of tea within her palms, white steam drifting from the cup the same colour as her hair. A mystical smile on the woman’s face gives nothing away.

The young girl places a hand on a chip. Then hesitates, thinking a moment more before making a move.

The woman sets her cup down, ruby eyes scanning over the board before she lifts a jewelled hand, moving chips across the board in great succession.

"And with that, I believe I win," Ningguang says. "You did very well this time."

The young girl pouts, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, don't tear up. It's alright," Ningguang produces a handkerchief and holds it out.

The girl takes it gratefully, hiding her face in the cloth. "Uh- huh."

Ningguang exhales. Children are so delicate, like the petals of glaze lilies. "How about you go to the other room? I'll clean up here."

The girl nods, and slides off her chair. "Can I take my juice?"

"Of course, you may. But remember to hold it carefully."

She nods.Holding the cup carefully with two hands, she slides open the silk screen and enters the next room.

Your head turns at the sound, looking up from your spot by the window: perched upon a lounge chair, feet up. You smile and gesture for the girl to sit beside you. She sets her cup down and crawls next to you, burying her face in your chest.

"How did your game go, Haruko?" You ask, combing her hair free of tangles.

Haruko shakes her head and a sniffle escapes her. "I lost."

You hum sympathetically, “I'm sorry. There's always next time. You and Lady Ningguang were playing for a really long time! Good job."

Harukao's grip loosens a smidge. "Thank you."

The screen door slides open again and Ningguang steps through. The material of her gold dress drags behind her as she walks, the movement smooth as water. She has a familiar treat nestled in the palm of her hands, a famous Liyue sweet candy.

You nudge Harkuo gently. She lifts her head, crimson eyes widening when she sees the candy. She scrambles out of your lap.

Seeing them side by side, Haruko looks more like Ningguang’s daughter than yours. Their eye colour and hair are almost identical. But Ningguang has high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, whereas Haruko has round, filled in cheeks, like her father.

"For you," Ningguang offers it to Haruko. "As thanks for an excellent game of checkers."

Haruko takes the candy with an excited beam on her face. "Thank you, Aunt Ningguang!"

“You are most welcome.”

With the candy, Haruko’s sadness about losing the match is all but forgotten. She rummages through one of the cabinets by the wall, pulling out a colouring book (A collection of cartoon-like Rex Lapis drawings in his dragon form) and the crayons that are specifically kept there.

Many years had passed since the first golden house went crashing into the ocean after the battle with the Ancient God Osial. But the loss only pushed Ningguang to rebuild the new one, bigger, more elegant, and efficient than the last.

Currently, it was parked atop Mount Tianheng, overlooking the harbour. It was fancy, the walls a rich cream and the floors polished dark brown. Some things had to be kid-proofed (especially when Haruko was younger and Beidou insisted on bringing her to visit.) But now, she’s old enough, and familiar enough with the building, that you’re not worried. Not even by the koi pond that circles the living room.

Ningguang plants herself across from you on the couch as Haruko begins to colour in Rex Lapis’ tail. “She’s growing bigger and bigger every day.”

You nod in agreement. “I swear, she’ll be taller than her father soon enough.”

Ningguang laughs. “Sooner or later.”

Haruko’s finished two drawings and is on the third when you look outside the window to the Port of Liyue harbour, glimmering with the midday sun. The familiar outline of the Alcor’s sail and ship dots the horizon. You stand up.

"Are you finished with your juice, Haruko? We're going to get ready soon."

She perks up. "Is dad here?"

You smile at her. "Yes. Almost. You want to be the first to greet him, don't you?"

She nods adamantly, hurrying to put away her things in their proper places.

"There are some ingredients in the kitchen if you'd like to prepare a lunch before you depart," Ningguang suggests.

“Thank you,” you say to her, before turning to your daughter. “What would you like to make?”

She thinks for a moment. “What do you think dad would like?”

“Hm. Anything that isn’t fish,” you make your way to the kitchen, Haruko following closely behind. “After a month at sea, I think he’s sick of fish.”

---

Lunch made and packaged, you and Haruko begin the long walk down to the Port. Steps of green plaustrite appear as you walk. They used to frighten Haruko terribly. Now, though, she loves the way they appear under her feet and disappear when she steps off.

“Watch your steps,” you remind her. Though you trust Ningguang’s architects, you want her to be careful.

“Uh-huh,” Haruko says, half-listening. She’s always distractible on these types of days.

Kazuha isn’t a frequent member onboard the Alcor anymore, but occasionally Beidou will plead with him to accompany her. She says his anemo vision makes cutting through enemies so much easier.

Kazuha will go on month-long voyages with the Crux, maybe two months if he feels like it, but refuses anything more. He doesn’t want to spend time away from you or your daughter.

By the time you arrive at the docks, you’re sweating and the Alcor is pulling into the harbour. Haruko hops up on a dock anchor, waving to the ship.

“Hi!”

A deafening honk sounds from the ship, making Haruko laugh. Then again. Then once more. Honk honk honk honk-

Jeez, Ningguang can probably hear the boat from Mount Tianheng.

Haruko stands back just enough so that the sailors can tie the boat off and lower the gangplank, then she’s rushing onboard the ship. A woman hops down from the wheel, holding out her arms as Haruko leaps into them.

“Auntie Beidou!”

“Hiya Haru!” Beidou grins, swinging your daughter around in a bear hug, long brown hair flying everywhere. “How have you been? Jeez, you’re getting tall!”

“Good! Aunt Ningguang said she misses you.”

Beidou’s grin widens. “Has she, now?”

“Beidou,” you greet sweetly. (Walking on board with much more restraint.) “It’s good to see you’re well.”

Her eye softens. Haruko slowly slides out of her arms. “The same to you. I thought you guys were coming to meet us tomorrow?”

Your house, the one you and Kazuha have, is right on the border between Mondstadt and Liyue. It’s far from the port but it’s quiet, nestled by the beaches of Yaoguang Shoal.

“Well, Ningguang offered us to stay last night, so we did. Haruko wanted to see her dad as soon as possible.”

“Ahh, I see. Well, good to see you again.” Beidou turns to Haruko, mischievous smile on her face. “Your dad’s gonna be thrilled, watch this.”

She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Kaz!”

High up on the mast, a tuft of white hair pops out from the crow’s nest. You smile and give a wave. The tuft disappears, and quick as the wind, the man reappears, hastily scaling down the mast.

He jumps the rest of the way and rolls to his feet, brushing white hair from his eyes, and is promptly tackled by Haruko, nearly losing his balance.

“Daddy!” she squeals.

“Haruko,” Kazuha grins, hoisting her up to rest against his side. “It’s been so long. How are you?”

“Good, dad. How was your trip? What did you do? Did you see any scary monsters?”

“Scary monsters, hm, I may have encountered a few.”

“You gotta tell me over lunch – can we eat it in the bird's nest? We made lunch for you!”

“Crow’s nest,” Kazuha corrects gently. “And really? Wow. Did you help make it?”

“Uh-huh! But I’m not telling you what it is; it’s a surprise! You’ll have to open it like a present.”

“That sounds lovely, Haruko. Thank you.”

You walk up to them and press a kiss to Kazuha’s cheek. “Hi, Kaz.”

“Hello, love,” Kazuha purrs, leaning into your touch. “You look stunning.”

Beidou guaffs, Haruko’s nose wrinkles. “Ew.”

(She used to scream at Kazuha to stop whenever he’d recite sappy love poems to you, covering his mouth with both hands so he’d stop talking. It always made you laugh.)

You pull away from Kazuha and save your daughter and Beidou from your ‘gross’ affections. “The journey to Inazuma ok?”

His eyes briefly harden. He smiles tightly. “It was alright.”

There’s a hidden we’ll talk about this later in his voice, unnoticed by Haruko. She wriggles and Kazuha sets her down.

“Can we climb the mast now?”

Kazuha takes her hand, “Ask the captain.”

“Auntie – Captian Beidou, can we climb the mast please?”

Beidou ruffles her head. “Of course you can, kid. Keep an eye out for me on there, yeah?” Then to Kazuha. “I gotta run some errands on land. If I’m not back by the time you’re gone, thanks for everything.”

Kazuha raises a brow. “Might those ‘errands’ have anything to do with that golden brocade you bought?”

Beidou just waves and grins, trotting off the gangplank and jogging towards the Jade Chamber.

---

The crow’s nest is really only meant for one person standing up, much less three adults and one child, but you make it work. Haruko is obviously given the best seat, you’re squashed beside her, and Kazuha balances on the edge of the nest, legs dangling over the air.

“Why can’t I do that?” Haruko asks as you unpack lunch.

“Because it’s dangerous. Your dad’s very experienced and can catch himself if he falls.”

You’ve seen it happen many times before. Kazuha losing his footing or grip, that split second when he fell and your heart stopped. Then the gust of air that followed, propelling himself back up to safety.

“Once you’re bigger, you can do this,” Kazuha says.

Haruko huffs. “You always say that…”

He chuckles and pats her head. “We just want you safe, is all.”

You pass out bowls and chopsticks around. Kazuha helps affix a chopstick holder to Haruko’s (she’s getting better, but it’s still a challenge to her.) Haruko insists Kazuha close his eyes as you pour out lunch.

“Ok, you can open them!” she says once things are all set.

Kazuha opens his eyes. A steaming bowl of Jueyun Guoba rests in his hands. Juicy cuts of ham, crisp Jueyun chilis, and the rich aroma enough to make your mouth water.

“Ta-dah! What do you think?”

“Oh, Haruko, it looks divine. You made this?”

“Yep! Hurry and taste it!”

Kazuha takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Delicious. So tasty. Captain Beidou should hire you as a chef, or better yet, wanmin restaurant should hire you.”

Haruko grins ear to ear, “Hehe, thank you.”

As you all eat, Kazuha tells you all about the adventures from his trips. How he saw the most beautiful of flowers, or how he fought a translucent glowing eel, Captian Beidou cooked it up and ate it, how she was sick for three straight days afterwards.

Haruko listens to him intently, staring at Kazuha with such a light in her eyes that makes your stomach flutter with pride.

You snuggle closer to Haruko, wrapping an arm around her. The three of you like actual crows, tucked high away, safe from the clutches of the outside world.

---

Haruko wears Kazuha out that day.

She seems to want to do everything Kazuha missed for the past month in a single day. You told her she needn’t rush – Kazuha wasn’t going away any time soon - but that didn’t deter her in the slightest.

You soak your feet in the icy ocean and search for seashells in the sand. You catch crystal flies in the old ruins, delighting in the way Haruko’s face lights up when the yellow wings fade, leaving just the core. You scale one of the many stone cliffs just to enjoy the view as Kazuha plays a tune from a passing leaf.

On your way home, you get some mora meat from a vendor and share the remaining candies from Ningguang as the sun dips below the horizon. When Haruko’s eyes begin to droop, Kazuha carries her on his back the rest of the way home.

Kazuha brushes the hair from her face, kissing her forehead delicately. “Good night, my starlight. May your dreams be as sweet as shooting stars.”

“Poetic,” you murmur, barely containing a laugh.

Kazuha’s eyes gleam as the two of you tuck the covers tight around Haruko, kiss her once more for good measure, then gently close the door on her bedroom.

Finally, alone, Kazuha wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head against your shoulder and sighing.

“Tired, pretty boy?” you ask, a lilt of mirth in your voice.

Kazuha hums in agreement, releasing you to intertwine your fingers. He gazes at you, eyes-half lidded, and presses a smattering of kisses to your hand.

“Shall we go on a walk?”

You glance at Haruko’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry,” Kazuha reassures you. “The wind will watch over her.”

You’re tired, but you’ve also missed Kazuha enough to fight off your slumber. You both wrap up, then make the walk down to the sandy pools of Yougung. The full moon is high in the sky, the breeze cool against your skin.

“Things are still bad over in Inazuma,” Kazuha begins, softly. The wind almost carries his voice away. “It’s gotten better. The vision hunt decree is struck down. Some visions have been returned to the people, but things are still very tense over there…It’s not a place where I want to bring our daughter…”

You squeeze his fingers tightly. It’s felt like ages since you first met Kazuha, when he was just a spry young man onboard the crux. His hair was shorter, he still wore bandages over his arm to hide his injuries from escaping Inazuma.

Now, he lets his hair loose. He wears more Liyue-style clothing. His right hand – the one in your grasp, has healed. Though the physical pain has left, the scars remain.

“I miss my homeland,” Kazuha croaks. “I love what I have with you – I love our home. But a part of me feels forever trapped in Inazuma. Longing for it. I-” He shakes his head, speckles of crystal tears forming in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight.

“It’s alright, Kazuha,” you wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back. “I can’t begin to understand what that feels like…but I can be here to help you.”

“I just fear-“ he chokes, gripping your shirt. “I fear I’ll never be able to see it again. I’ll never get to bring Haruko to see the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring, or let her feed the cats that roam the islands like wanderers.”

Though you want to, though every part of you wants to assure him he’ll see it, you can’t promise him that. He knows it as well.

You comb your fingers through his hair as his tears stain your shirt. “If that’s the case - If things never get better in our lifetime - then we will make the most of it. Nothing lasts forever. Inazuma will one day change.”

You pull his head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. They’re red and puffy. You rub your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away tear tracks.

“But no matter what, we’ll see it through together.”

Kazuha covers your hand with his, leaning into your touch. “Thank you, love. I am forever grateful that I get to spend my life with you.”

You rest your forehead against his, pressing forward just enough so your lips touch.

“Forever,” you murmur. “And then beyond where the wind lies.”

Belonging

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: incest, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, mentions of being roughly handled by your big bros while daddy was away u.u

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is written in response to a big brained, beautiful minded nonny <3 I was going to put it in the answer to the ask but I’m gonna chuck this in ao3 too so I’m making it a separate post.

THANK YOU nonny for this /chef’s kiss of an ask and please feel free to slide into my inbox again because this is primo content right here.

I hope you enjoy your crumbs <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

How long has Enji been away from home? Two days? Three days? Four? Certainly not away long enough for you to be in this condition.

Enji frowns despite the sweet kisses you’re peppering all over his face and grabs onto your waist, lifts you up and holds you back so he can look you over. You’re a mess- bruises on your wrists and hickeys mottling your neck so much he can’t see a speck of your natural color. You look tired, worn out and Enji can tell that you’re exhausted, that things have been busy since he’s been away for his team up. He’s not happy about the vivid bruises on your thighs or the fading carpet burn on your knees. He is really not happy about the bandage on your forearm. Enji’s frown deepens and you grow nervous before him- smile twitching anxiously and hands clenching at the fabric of one of Touya’s shirts that you’ve been made to wear. When he puts you down and reaches to grab your arm, you flinch- barely noticeable, so tiny in your movement; something that anyone who wasn’t him would miss. Enji’s eyes narrow, big hand circling over your wrist and he tries to soften his expression when he feels you tense up underneath him. Whatever has happened while he’s been away is not your fault- he knows this. He is furious that you’re so skittish from it, though. Again, not your fault- his sons are sure to blame. “...what happened?” You tense up even more- eyes darting anxiously around the room and smile wavering and fading from your face. He thinks that you might pull away from him whenever he runs his thumb over the bruises on your wrists, but you remain as good and obedient as ever and simply twitch in place where you are standing. “N-Nothing, daddy,” you mumble, lips trying and failing to smile once more. Enji frowns at you and you squirm under your father’s stern gaze- anxiety whipping through you and upset starting to creep all over your face. “It was just...they didn’t mean…” Oh, yes, they did mean. Enji scowls and he sets his irritation toward the bandage on your arm, has to clench his free hand into a fist so he doesn’t hold onto you too tightly. “What is this from?” he demands. “Give me the truth, little one.” Your bottom lip quivers and he can tell that you are torn. You are such a sweet daughter, a sweet sister- you cannot bring yourself to lie to the father that you love so much but you also do not want to get the brothers that you hold dear in trouble either. You are a good girl- you should not be in this position right now. Enji breathes in deep and he lets it out slow, tries to keep a leash on his temper. You are the only thing he truly loves in this world- his little one, his youngest, his perfect little girl. He doesn’t want to see you cry over something your brothers have done. Enji huffs and he pulls you closer to him, picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist on reflex- arms looping around his neck and face burying into his chest as he positions you. There’s a quiet whimper from you whenever he cups your bottom and Enji feels his anger grow even darker when he feels you sniffle against him. “Are you sore there?” he asks, gruff as he totes you off to his bedroom. You don’t answer him for a  moment and even then you can only give him a tiny nod in response- arms clinging tighter to him. Enji lets out a tch and he’s careful as he sits down on the bed, as he sits you in his lap. Your upset is more than clear on your face now- bottom lip wobbling and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Enji frowns as your head lowers and he rubs your back with one big hand, touches your cheek with the other. “Did they spank you?” he asks. Your squirm in his lap- eyes averted and fingers curling into his shirt. Enji waits, patient, until finally your lips tremble and you give a tiny nod. “Touya-nii...he wasn’t...he wasn’t happy that I slept in Natsuo-nii’s bed,” you whisper. “They’ve been…” You trail off, nerves and upset skittering over your expression, and Enji grunts his annoyance as he eyes the bruises littered all over your body. “They’ve been fighting over you. Again.” A wince passes over you and you hang your head as if you are ashamed. There is a sniffle and that is all it takes to further cement Enji’s decision that his sons need a reminder of their place. “I- I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper- eyes wet, lashes wet, voice trembling. “I- I tried to be good so they wouldn’t fight, but- but Touya-nii told Natsuo-nii that I- that I belong to him and it made Natsuo-nii mad and then- then Natsuo-nii was sad after and I tried to cheer him up and then that made Touya-nii mad and then- then they started fighting and then they kept dragging me to their rooms and I couldn’t- I couldn’t make them happy and I’m sorry, daddy! I didn’t mean to make them fight!” Your voice pitches with a whine of a sob and Enji grits his teeth, wraps his arms around tight so he doesn’t let his temper explode. “It’s not your fault, little one,” he tells you- gruff, stern, but soft for him. You sniffle against him, tears wetting the fabric of his shirt, and Enji rubs your back, places a kiss to your hair. “Tell me how your arm got hurt.” You sniffle, again, and it is pathetic, weak. It grinds at Enji’s fury more, but he closes his eyes as you press against him and seek comfort. “I- I fell,” you mumble to him, voice wobbling. “N-Natsuo-nii was holding my hand and- and Touya-nii didn’t like it so he...he grabbed my other one and he yanked me away, but I- I lost my balance and I fell...I hit it against the table and it...cut me…” Your voice gets smaller and more quiet with each word- reluctance to get your brother’s in trouble making it so hard to admit what happened to your father. Enji’s control snaps as he listens and his fire flares from him- something he is quick to put out whenever he hears your panic sounding against his chest. Enji breathes in deep and he buries his face into his daughter’s hair, holds you just a little too tight in his arms. “...okay, little one,” he says once his temper calms down enough that he can talk without growling every word out. “Did anything else happen?” You shake your head against him and it’s a bit too swift of a denial for his taste. He senses that there is more- knows that there must be- but he does not push; he does not want his little one to collapse further into upset. Enji takes another deep breath and lets you go, cups your cheek to smooth away one stray tear. “You’re a mess,” he tells you. “Come- take a shower with me and then we will relax.” You nod- one small, upset sniffle leaving you- and Enji presses his lips to your forehead before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He strips you down and reduces Touya’s shirt to ash- letting it fall into the waistbasket with a scowl. You do not comment on it, but you hug yourself tight- eyes wide and worried and body littered with bruises. They have been especially rough with you this time and Enji is not pleased. He is careful with you as he washes you- big hands moving as gently as he can manage but still firm as he washes your tangled hair, scrubs down your tired body. You relax as he takes care of you, melt under his warm fingers and let out soft, sweet noises as your father eases the anxious tension that has wound your body up so tight. He kisses you when you tilt your head back to look at him- your eyes half-shut and sleepy, a serene look on your face as he runs his hands over your breasts. It is a chaste kiss- loving and brief- and Enji feels a certain satisfaction whenever you sigh after, lean against his broad chest. “Daddy takes good care of me,” you mumble- words fuzzy with exhaustion and the gooey warmth spreading through your body and making your mind melt from much needed tenderness. “Not like…” You trail off softly, guiltily. Enji knows what you mean, though, and there is pride in him from it- a possessive, vindictive pleasure as his little girl nuzzles against him adoringly. You are daddy’s little girl- you always have been and you always will be. Enji finishes cleaning you and he sets you out of the shower to wrap yourself in a towel and wait for him. Your clumsy attempts to clean him before he does are cute, but he knows that you are tired and does not wish to push you just yet- he has plans and he needs you to rest while you can. He cleans himself and you wait for him obediently- wrapped up in a towel and yawning, propped up on the sink where he had sat you down. Seeing him emerge from the shower is a treat- water steaming from him and dripping down rippling muscles, through chest hair and a thick happy trail. A soft noise leaves you as you watch him dry himself and your cheeks pinken without notice despite heavy eyes and a fuzzy, tired mind that’s begging for sleep. Enji watches your soft thighs rub together and he goes to you, kisses you like you deserve- lovingly, hungrily but not forcefully. He breaks it once a sweet, low moan sounds from you and then he kneels, parts your legs and hooks them over his shoulders before burying his face into the honeyed crux of his little one. The bathroom echoes with your whimpers and mewls as Enji runs his tongue through your folds and burrows his tongue deep inside your cunny. He keeps your hips still whenever they begin to twitch, but he allows you to grab onto his hair, grunts with approval when you arch your back and whine out a needy little, “Daddy, please!” You come whenever he slips a thick finger into you- slick and warm insides fluttering and clamping down onto the digit as you cry out, grip his hair tight. Enji works you through it and he slips a second finger in at the peak of your orgasm, makes it trip into another and has you whimpering, gasping out “daddy, daddy, daddy!” “That’s right, little one,” he praises- voice coming out low and husky as your cunny clenches and cums around his fingers. “Who makes you feel good?” “Daddy does!” Enji hums, pleased by your mewled answer, and he allows you to ride out your pleasure before slipping his fingers from you. You look so sweet as you pant and flush- so worn out and vulnerable; a tender girl flustered by the dulcet, mellowed pleasure that you have been craving for days. You whimper whenever Enji stands- arms reaching for your father and eyes bright with needy tears. He picks you up and he kisses your cheek, cups your bottom whenever you wrap your legs around him and teases your wet, fluttering hole with a stretched out finger as he totes you off to the living room. The boys are there- arguing as always, in each other’s faces with heated, hissed words and glaring eyes- and they only look up when Enji slips a finger inside your cunny and coaxes a moan from you. Their reaction is immediate- heads snapping up and shock halting their anger only to multiple it. Touya’s lips pull back into snarl and Natsuo’s eyes widen, narrow as he watches your hips grind down against Enji’s finger. Enji glares them down as he eases another finger into your eager cunny, kisses your cheek when you whimper and cling to him even tighter. “Little one,” he asks, voice gruff but calm even as he glowers down at the furious brats that he calls sons, “who made you feel good earlier?” “Daddy did,” you mewl out- sweet and sleepy and showing the pleasure that is slowly wrecking your tired body. Enji hums and he spreads another finger to smooth over your clit, makes you moan softly and try to grind your hips against him. A growl rips from Touya and your lashes flutter from it, a tiny noise of worry leaves you and is instantly forgotten when Enji curls his thick fingers inside of your honeyed insides and causes your mind to blank from pleasure. “And who is making you feel good now?” Enji demands- hard and nearly imperious as you tremble and cling tighter to him. “D-Daddy is!” “Do you want your brothers to fuck you, little one?” Enji asks, narrowing his eyes in challenge when Touya takes a step toward him. A hiccup of a sob leaves you and you shake your head, bury your face against him with a whimper. Enji’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk and he pushes you to answer with, “And why is that?” Another sob and you shake as guilt, frustration, repressed anger and upset at your brothers twine through you along with the honeyed, warm pleasure that your father is giving you. You sniffle- hips rocking against thick fingers and your syrupy, sticky juices leaking from you and coating your father’s hand. “Because- because,” you whimper as your heart pounds and your cunny throbs with need. “Because they’re- they’re mean! I don’t want- I don’t-” Guilt causes you to whine against your father and Enji hums as he teases a third finger against your entrance, looks over his sons. Touya is furious- hands clenched into tight fists and shaking with anger that’s close to exploding out. Natsuo, at least, has the decency to look guilty, ashamed. He ducks his head and looks away as Enji spreads your little cunny wider and makes you cry out as he slowly stuffs your squishy, warm insides full even more. “Who do you want then?” Enji asks- voice low and gruff. He grunts as your insides spasm around his fingers and his cock flexes against himself- hard and big and so ready to fill his sweet baby girl. “Who do you want to fuck you, little one?” You choke on a sob- the questions overwhelming your tired mind and your body racing toward another orgasm. You arch against him, head tilting back with a cry whenever he places a hot kiss to your neck. You can’t help the way you pant and shake against him and you can’t help your answer either, the way you moan out a loud, needy, truthful- “Daddy! Want- I want Daddy!” You cry a little after from guilt and need and the pleasure that is making your mind melt and your head spin. Enji lets out a growl of satisfaction and he slips his fingers from you- soothing you with a kiss whenever you let out a panicked whine. Enji slides you lower down his waist and presses the head of his cock against your fluttering hole, looks at his sons with challenge and superiority in his eyes, the set of his lips. “And who do you belong to?” Enji asks- voice low and demanding, making a desperate shiver crawl up your spine. You whimper and you lift your head from him, turn it so you can look at your brothers. There is no fear in your gaze- not like how there was over these past few days whenever they yanked you to and fro between them- and you shudder against your father- eyes heavy and cheeks flushed, body soft and pretty and clinging to him with pressing, loving adoration and need. “Daddy,” you mewl out sweet as honey. “I belong to daddy.” “Good girl,” Enji murmurs to you, sliding his cock into your eager cunny. “My good girl.” Choked anger tears itself from Touya and he snaps out a “fuck you” to Enji before stomping out of the room- singing the doorframe whenever he slams his hand against it in fury. Natsuo is frozen in place- eyes wide as he watches you come along your father’s cock- and he flushes from frustration, from anger whenever he finds himself hardening at the sight of Enji’s dick stretching your pussy and making your glistening folds part as he slides into you slowly. He clenches his fists whenever your moan and then he stomps out of the room- angry and needy as your chanted mewls of “daddy, daddy, daddy!” sound behind him. Enji smirks as his sons flee in a temper tantrum, smiles as he kisses your cheek and rocks his hips up to make you moan and go limp against him in pleasure. You nuzzle against him with a needy, tired whine and Enji hums his satisfaction at that, turns to carry you back to his room and his bed. “Shh, little one,” Enji tells you. “Daddy will take care of you.” A whimper leaves you and you tremble before giving a weak nod against him, clench around his cock even as he slips out of you to lay you out on his bed. “Love you, daddy,” you slur out through your pleasure and exhaustion, the overwhelmed feeling making your mind melt. “Love you so much.” Enji braces himself over you and he kisses your forehead, soaks in the soft mewl that sounds from you as he sinks his cock back into your honeyed insides. “I love you too, little one,” he tells you. “My little one.” You nod, panting and dizzy, and Enji kisses you, starts to fuck you slowly. You’re his. You will always belong to your daddy.

The first time Adam and Ronan share a bed they're both a little hesitant at first because of the enormity of everything: their feelings for each other but also everything they've just gone through. They're lying next to each other not quite touching but almost. Adam wants to reach out to him but is overthinking it when Ronan just lets out a small breath and pulls Adam to him. Adam, secretly pleased, takes a moment to himself with his face tucked in Ronan’s neck but he reaches for Ronan’s hand and links their fingers together, and it grounds him enough so he can pull his face away from Ronan’s neck and kiss him and he thinks about how he's never had someone to kiss goodnight before.

"Bedtime, Parrish."

Ronan kicks at Adam's ankle with his barefoot. The sudden, unexpected touch jolts him awake from where he's been dozing on the couch for an undeterminable length of time. Last Adam remembers, the late afternoon sun was still up, spilling in through bay windows and keeping him warm much the same way a blanket might. Now, however, the living room at the Barns is dark and the only light is artificial, fluorescent, providing no comfort whatsoever.

"Mm," Adam responds, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes but his vision is bleary, spotty. His lids are heavy from the sort of exhaustion that is not only physical but mental, too. "Don't wanna move."

The other boy tsks and, though Adam can't see it, he knows there is a scowl on Ronan's lips.

"C'mon, you need a good night's sleep," he says, voice still hoarse despite it having been days since the terrifying predicament that nearly tore their lives apart. "Can't get that on the couch, so get your lazy ass up. Not gonna carry you."

Adam considers the benefits and disadvantages of refusing. On the former, curling up right here is easy, he wouldn't have to stumble upstairs to Ronan's bedroom, and he'd be a safe distance from the boy he so desperately wants to touch but is still scared of breaking into a thousand tiny pieces after everything that has happened. The latter would be how the couch is old, cushions a little too broken in, there's no warmth to be had down here, not anymore, and no Ronan. There's not enough space for both of them to sleep, at least not comfortably.

"M'getting up." Even though Adam says this, it still takes him a lot longer than it probably should to slowly, clumsily peel himself off of the couch and stand with a stretch-yawn combo. He rubs his still cloudy eyes, his weariness seemingly neverending.

Yeah, maybe Ronan is right. Maybe Adam does need to sleep properly.

Ronan gently puts his palm to the small of Adam's back, the ghost of a touch, and still, despite that he can still feel heat through the thin fabric separating them.

He allows himself to be led upstairs, going through the motions of brushing his teeth while Ronan makes himself scarce. Leaving his jeans and socks in a sloppy pile on the bathroom floor, Adam finds his way into the familiar childhood bedroom where they'd shared their first kiss what feels like an eternity ago yet hasn't really been much time at all.

They haven't spoken about that night, not yet, whatever they are is still undefined. Adam wants to ask, but he's scared. Not of Ronan, no, he knows Ronan would never hurt him on purpose. What Adam is scared of is himself; he's scared of how much he wants Ronan, of taking too much, devouring everything because his desires are insatiable, until Ronan has nothing left to give and Adam is left still wanting for more.

"Be back. Better be comfy before I get back, or else." It's a fake threat, a Ronan Lynch specialty. He waits for Adam to nod his assent before he excuses himself.

Alone now, Adam stands there awkwardly, listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, the crickets chirping outside, and his own, wavering breathing as his nerves grow. He doesn't know how much time passes, the only answer is enough, because he soon hears the bathroom door slam shut and Ronan stomping down the hall. Remembering the not-threat, Adam scurries onto the bed, just managing to pull the heavy comforter over himself when Ronan walks through the threshold.

Adam holds his breath as Ronan crawls on the mattress to join him, holds his breath when Ronan grabs a corner of the same blanket to cover himself, holds his breath as they settle close enough for the other's presence to be apparent but not overbearing. Ronan is there, so close all it would take is for one, or both of them, to shift just an inch, maybe two, and bridge the distance. So close it would be nothing at all, yet is somehow everything to him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, forces the thoughts down. This is fine, for now, because Adam doesn't know where the line is drawn between them. Best to let Ronan decide, he's the one who initiated this, after all, and he's the one that has some semblance of self-control. Laughable, really, how Lynch is the mature one in this situation. Really says a lot about Adam, how he can't restrain himself when he thinks there is even the slightest thing to be gained and hoarded.

But, God, he wants to just touch Ronan, and is that so bad? Is that so selfish of Adam? To demand the affection he's so desperately wanted his entire life?

Ronan lets out a soft breath and, suddenly, strong arms wrap around him. He tugs Adam until their ribs fit together like matching puzzle pieces and a surprisingly muscular leg nudges between his, limbs tangling. It's everything Adam has wanted and more, his head spins from a mix of exhilaration and nerves, the potential between them paralyzing.

Adam tilts until his face is buried in the crux of Ronan's neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of pine and lemongrass and sweat. It's familiar, soothing, but not quite enough. Underneath the blanket, the hand not smushed between them reaches, searching, until he finds Ronan's hand and twines together slightly trembling fingers.

Warmth radiates from one calloused palm to another, spreading through Adam, filling him with enough confidence to pull away and offer a shaky but cheery smile. He catches a glimpse of the look being returned right before swooping up, capturing Ronan's lips with his own. There's a spark and Adam can't tell if it's really there, if he's imagining it, if Ronan can feel it, too. Adam hopes it's not just him, prays to a God he's not even sure exists, because now that he finally has someone to kiss goodnight, he never wants to go without.

Like air, water, food, shelter, kissing Ronan is a need, not a want.

Adam pulls back but not far, his lips brushing Ronan's as he whispers, "'Night," and brushing as Ronan returns, with a reverence Adam could grow used to, "'Night."

📓?

because i know you like that good fucked up angst imma give you my most angsty ideas. major tw self harm so i'll put it under the cut:

so its also a s9 cas idea. sort of set around 9x11, but cas is still human. anyways the main concept is that cas has been self-harming, but because cas doesn't have a concept of self, or body shame, he genuinely doesn't see anything wrong with it. he knows from experience that other people feel uncomfortable seeing scars so that's the only reason he hides it. and sam comes across him cutting himself and is horrified, and cas is completely nonchalant, like "oh so you're also one of those people who don't like to see this" and sam is like what?? people?? this ensues a lengthy conversation about self-harm, and cas explains that self-harm helps him survive being human; he's like "soldiers do whatever they have to in order to survive. this is helping me function. this is a good strategy." and sam has to try and Convince him that it's not but cas is like im not harming myself in a lethal way. whats wrong with this. it Helps me.

and sam asks him well have you thought about killing yourself? and cas says "no its not allowed." sam thinks he's referring to some kind of religious idea of suicide being forbidden and cas is like "for a soldier the only thing worse than losing a battle is to run from it. my training as a soldier prevents me from being able to kill myself. if i held a different position it might be acceptable" and sam just wants to cry.

anyways. they have a very long talk about self-harm and mental health and when it comes down to it sam tells cas that there Are other ways of coping, less harmful ways like talking to someone. and cas is like no i can't talk about it. and thats the crux of the whole fic. cas is like i cant look someone in the eye and admit weakness. thats not a feasible strategy for survival. i can manage on my own.

in my head eventually sam convinces cas to talk to him. but cas makes sam leave the room and listen from outside the door. like the only way cas can admit to how much mental emotional and physical pain he's in is if he feels like no one else is there and no one's listening.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT PH1LZA (or Why Philza is a Victim of Narrative Circumstance)

Heyo! Per request I am posting the script to my video of the same name here on tumblr. I must warn you that just reading the script will probably not give you the full experience, so I would encourage you to watch the video (linked above).

There might also still be a lot of grammatical errors in the text, because I don’t proofread.

Intro

LAST TIME ON LUCEM FERTO

Okay, so! I don’t want this to turn into a reaction channel OR a Dream SMP channel for that matter! [echo]

Well, I lied.

[Intro to “Luc is pretentious about the funny blockmen. Episode 2”]

I swear, I’m working on other stuff. It’s just that my dumb lizard brain has only capacity for one interest at a time!

So, something you might not know about me, is that I am on tumblr – who am I kidding, most of you will know me from tumblr. Before starting this whole YouTube thing, I thought that website died years ago – but as per usual reality proves me wrong. I’m also on Twitter and Reddit, but I get the most engagement on tumblr – by far! – and I need those sweet, sweet numbers for the serotonin!

Anyways, one of my favourite past-times on tumblr is to razz Philza Hardcore Minecraft – that’s his full name – for being a frankly awful father [clicking away] – wait, wait, no! Philza fans, this isn’t a hit piece on him, I promise! Please come back!

This is video is meant to be a companion piece to my previous video about Technoblade and the Doomsday event – you can tell by the shared nomenclature – so you should probably watch that one before you proceed. Unless you don’t want to, which is also perfectly understandable.

DISCLAIMER: This video is mostly about the character Philza plays on the Dream SMP. Whenever I talk about the content creator Philza, I will say so properly. Also, Spoiler Warning for Dream SMP Season 2.

… What is that? You’re wondering what the Dream SMP is? Well, if you had just watched the other video like I told you to do, you would know, because I explained it pretty well there. But in case you don’t know, here’s the cliff notes.

Dream SMP is the hottest New Media Series on Twitch right now! It has it all: gaslighting, child soldiers, Machiavellian political intrigue, Hamilton roleplay, desecration of the dead, shounen protagonists, SO! MUCH! AMNESIA! Filicide, furries, a red egg that’s definitely homophobic and teenagers inventing nuclear warfare. And it’s all done in Minecraft – yes, the funny block game where the only way to emote is to crouch.

And you say the perfect brief doesn’t exist!

Now, you might be wondering, why do I want to talk about this? Well, it’s because Content Creator Philza is one of least controversial internet personalities that I can think of. That man exudes pure comfort. So, it’s just very, very amusing to me that his character became one of the most controversial figures on the SMP, only outshone by Tommy and Technoblade.

And it’s not just amusing, it’s also extremely interesting! I want to dig deep to uncover and discuss the dynamics behind why that is. How did it come to this point? How did a man who appears genuinely so pleasant create a character that inspires so much discourse!

Now, if you watched that Technoblade video – like I told you to twice now! – you might know, that I am the resident character analyses hater of fandom! And that impression is false and slanderous! Don’t tell other people that I hate character analyses! I love them!

It’s just that, in the Dream SMP in particular, there is an abundance of character analyses! Every streamer has at least two very good essays written about them, exploring every possible angle to view their characters and backgrounds and everything. All I’m saying is: I don’t have anything to add on that front.

So, instead I want to pursue a different approach – something, that I feel is a bit underrepresented in the fandom! And I’m not just talking narrative analysis – that’s right, this episode we’re going even more pretentious! – I’m talking Transtextual Analysis!

Now, what is Transtextuality? Well, unfortunately it has very little to do with actual Trans people – #transrights, just in case that wasn’t obvious – but instead describes a mode of analysis with which to put – to quote French literary theorist Gérard Genette – “the text in a relationship, whether obvious or concealed, with other texts”.

Basically, you know how the L’Manburg War of Independence heavily quotes and borrows from the hit musical Hamilton? That’s transtextuality! A lot of the analyses surrounding how Tommy mirrors the Greek hero Theseus, who was invoked by Technoblade multiple times in the series, are already doing transtextual analysis! So, it’s really not something that’s new to the Dream SMP fandom.

But how does this apply to Philza and how he is looked at and judged by his parental skills? Well, there are multiple forms of transtextuality, two of which we will discuss today.

But before we continue, I gotta do that annoying YouTuber thing. I know these videos don’t look like much, but I spend a really long time making them. I work fulltime and I try my best to keep up, but sometimes I can’t. So please, like, subscribe, comment to give me some algorithm juice – I really need it – and most importantly share it! Share it with your friends, share it with your family – I’m sure Grandma is very interested in what I have to say about Philza Minecraft.

And I’m trying to be better! If I sound at all different for this video, it’s because I finally bought a new pop filter, so I can hit my plosives without it sounding like there’s a thunderstorm in my room. I hope it makes a difference; it was a very cheap pop filter, so maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it sounds worse – that would be bad!

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, CHILD NEGLEGT!

 Intertextuality: Why is Dadza?

You know what’s really interesting about the Dream SMP – aside from, you know, most things about it? Very few of the characters have concrete, fleshed-out backstories – and that’s pretty weird! In no other medium or genre could you get away with something like that – at least for long-form storytelling!

So, how does Dream SMP get away with this? Well, it’s because every character on the Dream SMP is basically a self-insert – and I don’t mean that in the “This character is based on me”-kinda way, but in the “This character, for all intents and purposes, is me!”-way. This, like many things that are fascinating about the Dream SMP, is owed to the fact that this series didn’t start off as a continuous drama – it started off as a Let’s Play.

And while we can talk about how someone’s on-camera/on-mic persona is in some ways a character, it’s still miles off of being an actual, fully-realized, separate character in a storyline.

This is where Intertextuality comes in.

Intertextuality is a subset of Transtextuality. It describes how the hypertext, which is the text, you’re currently engaged with, uses another text, the hypotext, to supplement itself. The interconnection the hypertext establishes with the hypotext, through stuff like allusion for example, uh-hum [Hamilton], can colour how an audience interprets the hypertext. Basically, Hamilton and Theseus are the hypotexts; the Dream SMP is the hypertext.

So, what does this have to do with backstory? Simple: The backstories of the characters in the Dream SMP consist basically of nothing but intertextual references. Through intertextuality their content effectively substitutes their character’s backstory.

You can see it everywhere. Wilbur’s and Schlatt’s relationship and rivalry is hugely enriched, if you are aware of their shared history like SMPLive, for example – I think anyway. I haven’t watched SMPLive, because … there’s only so many hours in the day and I cannot keep up with the Dream SMP and catch up on SMPLive and live a healthy life – which I already don’t do, so…

BadBoyHalo’s and Skeppy’s relationship, which has become the crux of the Crimson-Storyline of Seasons 2 and 3, is hugely supplemented if you know that they’re also very close as streamers and in real life.

Another great example of intertextuality is basically Technoblade’s entire deal. If you just look at him completely within the text of the Dream SMP and try to transplant his entrance to any other medium: It would be extremely weird! Like, he’s just this guy that comes in in the middle of a very climatic arc, no build-up, no explanation what his deal is, and he’s treated like he has always been there. In any other medium that just wouldn’t work – at least not without a flashback or some sort of exposition!

But because of stuff like Minecraft Mondays, the Potato Wars, his Duel against Dream and SMPEarth, we understand that he is a Big Deal!

Anyways, to bring all of this back to Philza Minecraft: What kind of hypotext informs how the audience sees his character? Well, this is where I will have to talk about SBI.

SBI is an acronym that stand for State Bank of India, the 43rd largest bank in the world and…

It also stands for Sleepy Bois Incorporated. Sleepy Bois Incorporated is a loose assembly of content creators, consisting of Philza, Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit and Technoblade. It is most well-known for its very endearing family dynamic – a dynamic that is frequently acknowledged and played up by the creators involved. Tommy is the youngest brother, Wilbur and Techno are the two older brothers and Philza is of course the dad. And when I say, it’s played up, I really mean it! Wilbur seems to be especially enamoured with the idea and leaves no opportunity untaken to bring it up – which we will come back to.

And I’m not saying that they’re faking this and this is somehow an act. While I know none of these people personally, it appears to me, that this is genuinely how they interact – if a little exaggerated for the streaming experience. Even when they’re not consciously playing into the family dynamic, their interactions still very much lend themselves to that interpretation by the viewers.

Philza especially just radiates Dad-Friend energy – so much so that it has become a huge part of his brand identity – yay, I can bring that back (check out my Christmas video if you want to hear me ramble about that). The nickname Dadza stuck even before SBI was a thing.

So, even if we completely disregard SBI – which we shouldn’t for reasons I’ll get back to – Philza has cultivated an image of strong paternal guidance. He is, in my opinion completely deservedly, regarded very positively. He is highly respected and in turn seen as a voice of reason.

All of this would eventually inform the hypotext of the character Philza within Dream SMP.

 Interlude: Before Dadza & November 16th

Okay, so now we have established that a) Dream SMP heavily hinges on intertextual readings by the audience to supplement character backstory and b) that Philza’s entire deal is that he’s the dad-friend – more specifically that he’s the dad of SBI (not the bank). I think you know where this is going.

So, yeah, ever since it was on the table that Philza could join the Dream SMP, it was immediately assumed that he would take on the paternal guardian role all these traumatized people on that server so desperately needed – and with good reason! Like I said before, the audience at this point was trained to take intertextual interpretations as basically canon or at the very least canon-adjacent.

I want to emphasize that this is most likely not done deliberately. I’m sure content creators Wilbur and Philza didn’t sit there and said: “Yes! We will rely entirely on the audience’s inclination to interpret our characters intertextually to define character Philza!”. Like, obviously that did not happen.

But it’s also important to remember that unlike with traditional media and the fanbases cultivated there, the separation between the Dream SMP and its audience is almost non-existent – and purposely so. The story events are streamed live, Chats are acknowledged in canon and even outside of livestreams creators are extremely involved with the fandom. So, the weight of fan-expectations is equally amplified and will more likely be incorporated into the writing process. Case in point:

[Wilbur “I miss Philza”/Philza about Wilbur]

During Wilbur’s villain arc, even before his official involvement, Philza became a prevalent point of discussion. The hope that he would be the one to snap Wilbur out of his downward spiral was not only wish-fulfilment on behalf of the fans; it also very much played off of the intertextual reading of the SBI-dynamic in relation to the Dream SMP.

Of course, this still doesn’t make Philza and Wilbur canonically blood-related – but it definitely used the “paternal”-dynamic of SBI to build-up tension and drama.

And that ultimately brings us to November 16th. The Grand Finale of Season 1 and Philza’s first canonical appearance on the SMP.

Now, for this I want to pull back from the transtextual analysis and talk about simply narrative analysis: What is Philza’s narrative purpose on November 16th?

Philza serves as the last threshold on Wilbur’s Villain’s Journey – to appropriate Vogler’s version of the monomyth for a minute here – he is what Vogler calls the “Threshold Guardian”. He is the last enemy the Hero faces before completing his quest – in this particular case Wilbur’s quest is to blow up L’Manberg. Multiple people have at this point tried to dissuade him from this course of action: Tommy, Quackity, Niki and others. So how come this Philza moment is not redundant in terms of dynamics compared to these prior scenes?

Well, it’s through our intertextual understanding of Wilbur’s and Phil’s relationship. Because Philza does not just occupy the role of the Threshold Guardian – he is also implicitly the Mentor. Before Phil there was no character in the storyline that held a higher position of moral authority than Wilbur – Dream and Schlatt, while at points more powerful in terms of actual authority, were never positioned by the narrative as Wilbur’s superiors in the same way as Wilbur was to Tommy, Tubbo or even Niki.

Before November 16th all challenges Wilbur faced were from people narratively subordinated to him. But that trend is broken with Phil. That is why he is the Threshold Guardian, why this confrontation is at the climax of Wilbur’s arc. Because Phil is the last thing tethering Wilbur to whatever morality he held before his villain arc; Phil is the last, moral obstacle Wilbur has to discard before gaining his reward.

And, just a quick sidenote, because I’ve seen it around the fandom a bunch: When I’m referring to Wilbur denouncing his morality, I’m using that in terms of narrative analysis. I’m mentioning it, because Wilbur’s character can very easily be read as mentally ill or neurodivergent and some people have – rightly! – pointed out that the excessive vilifying when talking about his character is … problematic, to say the least.

So, I just want to make clear, this isn’t a character analysis, I’m being purposely broad when talking about Wilbur and Phil.

In the end, Wilbur takes that final step and gets his “reward”: As his final request his mentor takes his life and vanquishes the evil – the dragon of Wilbur’s story slays the dragon of L’Manburg. It’s very Shakespearean in its tragedy – but beyond the larger theatrics it’s not really used to further characterize Phil – at least in the context of Season 1. There’s not a lot of focus on his characters internal conflict during November 16th.

Phil, like Techno, is very utilitarian in how content creator Wilbur writes him: He serves as a moment of hype; an obstacle Wilbur has to face; a participant in the tragic climax of Wilbur’s character and ultimately takes on his implicit and expected role of mentor and guiding figure to the rest of L’Manburg.

I think not a lot of people talk about how Philza does not join Technoblade during November 16th. He takes the side of L’Manburg – he fights against the withers and he joins Tommy, Tubbo and the others at the L’Mantree, thus framing him as loyal to the L’Manburg administration – even though Season 2 would make his loyalty to Techno central to his character. But more on that later.

What’s also important about November 16th is that this is the day when the general intertextual interpretation became canonized text.

[You’re my son!]

Wilbur is made Phil’s canonical, biological son. The intertextual interpretation of SBI as it pertains to these two characters on the SMP was completely reinforced by the narrative. Or to put it in Fandom terms: The headcanon became actual canon. At least when it came to Wilbur … but what about Philza’s “other” children?

Well, that leads to our second form of transtextual analysis:

 Paratextuality: Is Dadza?

These titles are just getting better and better.

The Paratext is defined as all those things in a published work that accompany the text. It comes in two forms: One of them is the Peritext, which are non-diegetic elements directly surrounding the text – like chapter titles, author’s notes, and stuff like that. Translated to the medium of the Dream SMP, it would be stuff like this:

[Examples]

And, trust me, I could make a whole separate video about how people on the SMP use their peritext as a tool for storytelling – I’m looking at you, Ranboo – but that’s not what we will talk about in the context of Dadza.

Instead, we will focus on the second form of Paratext, the Epitext, which consists of all authorial and editorial discussions taking place outside of the text. That’s stuff like interviews, private letters or J. K. Rowling’s Twitter Account – you know, before she decided to become a full-time asshole.

[Wilbur: Transrights]

After Season 1 ended, Wilbur indulged pretty heavily in providing epitext for the Dream SMP, something he had not done prior to November 16th. His paratextual additions ranged from the playful, like assigning DnD alignments to various SMP members, to the extremely impactful, like the whole three lives system!

You probably think, you know where this is going. Wilbur provided some epitext about how Tommy and Techno either are or are not biologically related to him … and I have to be honest I thought that too. But then I began looking into the impenetrable web that is the SBI-canon on the Dream SMP and found this!

[Ghostbur explains family]

So, it wasn’t paratext, it was just straight text. Said in character, in canon, without any implication that we the viewers should question this. The text of the SBI family dynamic was explicitly linked to Dream SMP-exclusive lore, namely Fundy being Wilbur’s and Sally the Salmon’s son. This is as clear as Philza’s anguished declaration on November 16th in establishing the intertext as text. And because Wilbur also had a very heavy hand in the discussion of paratext around that time, it gave his character’s words even more “canonical” weight. Metatextually speaking, this very much read like the author giving exposition through his character – exposition that we should understand as reliable.

And, by the way, before I continue, I need to give a huge, huge shoutout to kateis-cakeis on tumblr, I hope I pronounced that right, who was just so quick in providing me with these crucial clips. Without him I would have looked for days because these people don’t archive their shit! And the Dream SMP Wiki was NO help, by the way! I love what you guys do, but stuff like this belongs in the Trivia section on characters’ pages!

Anyways, basically during the entirety of early Season 2 the SBI family dynamic was basically canon to the SMP. Sometimes it was only alluded implicitly, again letting the intertext fill out the rest.

[Philza clips]

But just as often it was just explicitly talked about – both in the text and in the paratext.

[Fundy clip/Wilbur “Twins” clip/Tommy clip]

So, I know what you’re thinking: “Why is this part called paratext, if the entire family tree is just textual”. Well, that last clip might give you a hint, as to what I will talk about. Notice how Tommy, one of the people most directly impacted by the canonization of SBI lore, is both unaware of and seems generally unenthused about it, to put it nicely? Well, that would soon turn out to be a much bigger deal than anyone could have imagined as he wasn’t the only one.

[Technoblade decanonizes SBI]

Yeah …

This happened on 20th of December. Regular viewers of this channel will remember that I put out a 90-second joke video, where I complain about this very development. And while I was mostly kidding around, the core idea is still true. The paratext provided by Technoblade and established text were in direct contradiction with one another – and that brought a lot of confusion into the fandom. Confusion, that would soon be followed by frustration.

Because Techno only decanonized himself as part of the SBI family dynamic – but what about Tommy and Tubbo, the latter of which was incorporated into the dynamic exclusively within the lore of the Dream SMP. Was this still canon or wasn’t it?

What followed was a muddled mess of contradictions, intertextual implications, text and paratext in conflict with each another. It was for the most part inscrutable to figure out how Tommy and Philza related to one another. I’ll spare you every comment made about this – mostly because I want to spare myself from looking for all of them.

In the end, the current status is that their familial relationship is … unclear. Philza said, again in paratext, that it’s ultimately up to the writers to decide, whether or not Tommy is his son … which, I personally think he and Tommy should be the ones to establish that, but I’ll come back to that later.

But why is all of this important anyway? Why would this ambiguity create such an uproar, such controversy – especially when it comes to Tommy’s character? What makes Tommy’s and Philza’s relationship such a target for discussion in the fandom?

Well … this is where we will have to talk about the storyline of Season 2.

Interlude II: Tommy’s Exile and Dadza in Season 2

Okay, Season 2. This is where the spoilers are, so I will just sneakily drop this again. It took me five seconds to google this gif and I will milk it for every penny it’s worth!

At the beginning of Season 2, Philza’s narrative role has not changed much from where Season 1 ended. He is in L’Manburg dispensing earthly wisdom, being a paternal figure to Fundy, Ghostbur and Tubbo, helping with the nation’s rebuilding efforts; just generally occupying the role of the mentor.

[clips]

And then came … the Exile. The Exile Arc took place between December 3rd and December 15th during Season 2 of the Dream SMP. It revolves around TommyInnit getting exiled from L’Manburg and slowly getting psychologically tortured and broken down by Dream. It’s a really great arc, at least in my opinion, that explores and deepens a lot of Tommy’s character relationships, whether that be Tommy and Dream, Tommy and Tubbo or Tommy and Ranboo. One relationship, however, is noticeably missing.

So, yeah, Philza spends basically the entirety of the exile doing pretty much nothing of consequence. And that’s not a problem specific to him – One big criticism I would levy against the Exile Arc is that a lot of characters are left spinning their wheels. Which is why we get zany stuff like El Rapids, Drywaters, Eret’s Knights of the Roundtable, Boomerville – anyone remember Boomerville, that was a thing for 5 seconds, wasn’t it? – basically a lot of storylines are started and then unceremoniously dropped. Now, I will talk more about this, when I make a video about Season 2 of the Dream SMP … in ten years, look forward to it.

In the case of Philza, this inaction was especially damning, because at this point it was still a considered canon that he was Tommy’s dad. So, the fans were left with a situation, where just a few weeks prior Philza was occupying a paternal role for Fundy and Ghostbur … but now, that his youngest son was in a very concerning predicament – to put it lightly – he was nowhere to be found.

So why is that?

Well, the most obvious answer is that Dream and Tommy didn’t write him into the storyline. We’ve seen that Tommy wasn’t particularly interested in exploring a familial relationship to Philza, at least at the time. And it would just not fit in with what Dream and Tommy tried to do with the Exile Arc: they wanted to tell the story of Tommy being isolated, completely under Dream’s mercy, slowly worn down and manipulated. If Philza had been constant presence for Tommy during that time, it would have definitely shifted the narrative focus. That doesn’t mean that they couldn’t have done that, it’s just a matter of fact that they didn’t.

This also reveals another truth about content creator Philza’s character work, that I think is extremely crucial: He takes what the writers give him. Outside of a few choice moments, he doesn’t seem particularly interested in expanding or even solidifying his character on the SMP.

What I’m saying is that he is very go-with-the-flow: Wilbur wants to enact a Shakespearean tragedy? Philza’s up for it. Fundy wants him as a parental figure and mentor? Philza’s here for him. Tommy, conversely, doesn’t want him as a paternal presence, even though it would make sense for Philza’s character, as it was established so far, to be there? Philza will oblige.

The reason I’m mentioning this is because, while Tommy and Dream were unwilling to utilise Philza in their storyline, someone else was more than happy to. Which leads us back, like it always does, to everyone’s favourite Porky Pig-kinnie in a crown: Technoblade.

Technoblade and Philza, from everything I’ve seen of them, seem to be very good friends – and they share a lot of history even outside SBI. So, it’s commendable that they would collaborate on a storyline together.

A consequence of that, however, is that Philza’s narrative purpose shifts completely with very little transition. His entire character changes from being the Mentor-figure of L’Manberg to being pretty much exclusively defined as Technoblade’s ally; his man on the inside. It is a very sharp turn from the end of Season 1. Their relationship is once again informed via intertext – this time the Antarctic Empire on SMPEarth serves as the hypotext – but there isn’t a huge effort made to smoothly integrate that aspect of Philza’s character into the larger narrative framing around him.

How much the narrative utilisation of Philza has shifted can be very easily observed through the Butcher Army event on December 16th, a story event that I like less and less the more I think about. Here Philza is used to show just how corrupt and violent Tubbo’s administration has becomes. He is no longer the respected mentor, he is now the stand-in for the oppressed populace, similar to Niki’s role in Season 1. On a narrative level, he is here to prove a point.

If you’ve seen my Technoblade video, you know how I feel about … just that entire storyline, so I will not reiterate too much on it. I just want to make clear that I’m not principally against this development – if they wanted to truly explore Tubbo going down a dark path and getting corrupted by power, so much so that he would even treat the person who effectively raised him like a prisoner, I would be extremely here for it, I cannot stress that enough.

The problem I have is that it’s just so sloppily done. It is not coherent with how these characters behaved and, more importantly, how they were narratively framed prior to the Butcher Army event. Fundy gets one token line about Phil being his Grandfather – a far cry from the very emotionally complex relationship they had established at the beginning of Season 2 – and Phil then callously disowns him.

The major problem simply is that we don’t see how Philza changes from Mentor-figure to embittered, oppressed citizen. And there was enough time to build to that. During the entirety of Tommy’s exile Tubbo was pretty much spinning his wheels and Quackity and Fundy were opening up plot cul-de-sacs that didn’t end up going anywhere. This is time they could have spent on developing their relationship to Philza and the dark path they were going down – but again, Season 2 video.

There is not much to say on Philza’s narrative purpose and framing beyond the Butcher Army event. He remains pretty much exclusively Techno’s consigliere with his role as Mentor to L’Manburg a distant memory. He has some cute character moments with Ranboo, because content creator Philza is just big dad-energy whether he wants to or not, and whenever he and Ghostbur share a scene suddenly the narrative remembers that there are people other than Technoblade that should exist in Philza’s inner world. But aside from that, Philza’s storyline in Season 2 remains … pretty definitive is the nicest way I can put it.

Most importantly his relationship with Tommy continues to be completely unexplored – whether by chance or choice – and that combined with ever vaguer paratext leaves “Dadza” in a very peculiar situation.

 Conclusion: Is Dadza a Good Dadza?

So, the question to end all questions. The big, obnoxious text, that I will probably have put in the thumbnail – I haven’t made it yet, but I know myself. The honest answer is: I couldn’t tell you.

I have, in the past, been expounding the virtues of narrative analysis. That is because I feel that Narrative Analysis and Textual Analysis, like in this video, can provide certain tools that Character Analysis lacks. Often times I see people trying to get at a writing problem or query and getting frustrated because they’re not using the toolset, they need to figure out what they want to figure out.

But I’d be a hypocrite if I pretended like everything could be solved through the modes of analysis I prefer. And I think the Dadza-issue is exactly such a case.

I set out to explore why the Philza-Tommy-“Dadza”-relationship has become so controversial. It’s a combination of expectations build up through intertextual readings, that were partly canonized – something that is very common for the Dream SMP – conflicting pieces of paratext, which only serve to muddle the issue further and a text that is not only completely uninterested in actually exploring Tommy’s and Philza’s relationship – as it stands right now they might as well be strangers, narratively speaking – but also completely changes Philza’s narrative purpose as it relates to characters like Fundy or Tubbo about half-way through with little to no transition.

That is why I say, that Philza’s character is a victim of narrative circumstance. Because unwittingly, through all of these factors and decisions, there is not coherent reading of Philza that frames his parental skills in a particularly kind light.

The question of how we can judge Phil as a paternal figure ultimately falls within the purview of the character analysis – and that’s a very multifaceted issue, highly dependent on which POV you focus on and how you interpret the other characters in that POV’s periphery.

To put my cards on the table, I think that Philza is a very flawed father/father-figure – and I find that absolutely okay. Flaws are the spice of character building. He is not Cinderella’s Evil Stepmother – but he’s also definitely not Mufasa. If we were to read Philza as a paternal figure, then he would have made a lot of mistakes and decisions to the detriment of his “children” – least of all everything that happened on Doomsday.

But I also have sympathies for Philza fans who are tired of the Dad-Debate and would like to have his character judged independent from his relationship to Ghostbur, Fundy, Tubbo and Tommy.

Ultimately, to bring it all to a point, I’d like to end with saying, that I think that Philza, out of all the characters on the SMP, has the potential to be on of the most intriguing, multifaceted ones. There are all of these different patches of story, character moments and narrative and transtextual implications, that, if brought together, could create a beautiful tapestry of the character Philza.

You have his relationship with Techno, which holds the potential for so much emotional conflict and vulnerabilities, you have his time as mentor of L’Manburg, which is just criminally underused; the complex relationship between him and Ghostbur/Wilbur; and – for me, personally – most intriguingly this weird, almost uncomfortably distant non-relationship with Tommy. That last one is intriguing to me, because it contrasts just so much with our intertextual understanding of the characters and streaming personas – and it just holds the potential for so much conflict, so much drama, so much angst. Which I live for!

And, yes, I do believe that most of this is narrative happenstance, that this was largely not intended by Philza or really any of the writers. It’s just what happens when hybrid-roleplay-improv a long-running, livestreamed storyline in Minecraft.

But I want them to realize the potential they have on their hands, because it could – with barely any adjustments – turn Philza from a victim of narrative circumstance to a champion of it!

 Outro

Thank you so much for watching this video. Usually, I don’t record outros this standard, but after this beast of a video I felt it necessary. I hope that whether you’re a Philza fan or a Philza critical or just completely uninvolved in the whole thing, there is at least a little entertainment you could get from this.

I want to take this opportunity to say that my next few videos will probably not be Dream SMP related – a sentence which undoubtedly lost me a bunch of subs – simply because I don’t want to burn out on it. I genuinely enjoy watching the SMP and being exhausted by it would be something I wouldn’t want to force on myself.

But who knows what will happen? The Karl Jacobs video was something I did spur of the moment because the idea just came to me – so I can’t guarantee that the next video won’t be a three-minute joke about Purpled or whatever.

Anyway, my concrete plans for future Dream SMP videos are essays on Season 1 and Season 2 as well as one for Tales from the SMP.

Before that I have a longer video in the works, which I’ve already teased a bunch, so I hope it will finally be finished sometime. And I also may be working on something … eboys-related? Maybe. I’m not making any promises!

Get It? ‘Cause Your Old? ||Felix Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: A bit of swearing, some mild angst and mentions of insecurity. 

Words: 2728

Summary: Felix is very touchy about his age, so how is the reader going to show him it really doesn’t matter to them?

Since meeting your mate you had gotten to know him rather well, quirks and all. Felix was a summer baby. He liked to swim in his spare time. He had degrees in graphic design, architectural design and electrical engineering, because (though he had learned since becoming immortal) he still found reading and writing quite difficult and preferred more creative subjects he could use his hands for. He loved the smell of lilacs, but hated the colour purple after coming across Barney the Dinosaur once in a shopping mall where the toy store had a character visit occurring. Your absolute favourite fact about your mate was his age however, and it was your favourite fact because you didn’t really know it.

“Are you kidding me? The Romans! Felix you’re not just old you’re ancient!”

“And you are obnoxious, shortness.”

Felix did not find this fact as amusing as you did.

You had begged and pleaded to figure out when his birthday was, determined to see if you could make one of those Happy Birthday banners where the number was replaced with question marks. He had refused to tell you with a knowing gleam in his eye, his expression stern. He’d found rather creative ways to shut you up. In fact, it had become a habit you realised, that every time you brought up the topic he found some way to silence you.

“I just don’t understand! I don’t want to do anything mean, I just want to make sure he has a good birthday! I mean, you lot never celebrate anything. Who do I have to kill to get some balloons around here?” You huffed, resting your elbows on your knees and dropping your chin into your hands. Since the Guard were away on a mission you had been left alone in the castle for the past three days, the secretaries too temporary for you to seek comfort in and the other vampires too aloof to consider human company any company at all. Santiago was the only exception to this rule, as he trained with Felix often and therefore ended up spending a lot of time with you as a by product of your presence in the training room. You never really saw anything per say since they moved so fast but occasionally, they slowed down to practice techniques and gave you a good view of the complex moves your mate could manage.

“You have to realise that we don’t really place the same value on birthdays as you do,” Santiago reminded you, “To some of us, we’ve had so many they’ve simply lost meaning, for others they are reminders of things we would like to forget.” Your brows furrowed. Who would want to forget their own birthday? Birthdays were so much fun! You spent them with friends and family eating good food and doing things you loved...

“You want to forget your own birthday?” you asked, the confusion evident in your voice. Santiago tilted his head.

“You forget most of us were born when your birth status dictated your lot in life. Some of us were born poor and we lost loved ones young, others of us were forced to marry young.” He pointed out. It was definitely food for thought. Felix had been born a really long time ago and you really had no gauge as to what life might have been like for him as a human; hell, you weren’t even sure Felix remembered what his life had been like. Santiago chuckled, clearly following your line of thought, and you couldn’t help but stick your tongue out at him.

When Felix returned to your side two days later you were quieter than usual. You couldn’t bring yourself to just forget about your conversation with Santiago. If Felix noticed he didn’t say anything but there was an increased amount of physical affection that let you know, in his own silent way, he wasn’t sure what was wrong with you but he wanted you to feel better. Simple things like a squeeze of your hand here and there or a tender brushing of a hand along your hair. It took you almost another week before you cracked.

“Why won’t you tell me your birthday?” you asked, curled into his side as you watched a movie together one evening. Felix tensed ever so slightly.

“Is that what you’ve been moping about the place for? Really?” he sounded both incredulous and exasperated, like he wished you’d drop the topic and couldn’t believe you hadn’t. Your tenacity was something he did want to admire but by god did you obsess over the most trivial things. Bobbing your head you sat up, frowning slightly.

“I was talking to Santiago about it and he said that maybe-“

“You shouldn’t have bothered speaking to any about it. It’s not worth wasting your time over.” Felix said firmly. You recoiled at that, not expecting his tone to be quite so sharp. Maybe Santiago was right and Felix didn’t enjoy remembering his birthday, but if that was the case all he needed to do was say! He didn’t need to get snappy about it. You sat up, turning your gaze away from Felix and towards the fire in the hearth.

“It’s my time, I’ll waste it how I like.” You muttered.

“I didn’t bargain to give you more time as a human for such trivial things, you wanted to finish your degree remember? I don’t see much work going towards that recently since your brain is so occupied by the unimportant.” Felix’s comment was almost snide, and you couldn’t help the hurt that ripped through you. You immediately scooted away from him, pushing up off of the sofa and moving to grab your bookbag. Felix sighed. “Now where are you going?” he asked.

“The library, I’ll sleep there to since I’m wasting so much time elsewhere.” You bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Felix huffed, flitting to stand in front of you, “This isn’t something we need to argue about, let’s just – Y/N!” you pushed past him and made for the door, determined that he wouldn’t see the tears welling in your eyes. You knew he hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but his words had implied just how worthless your humanity was to him. You had thought there were perhaps things about your human self he enjoyed; he commented on your warmth when he held you often, and how quiet the room would be without your heartbeat. Was this really the only reason you were as you were? Your education was the only reason he cared about your humanity? You had hoped at least one of your qualities would take the top spot on the list of ‘Top 10 Things to Love About Y/N’!

Felix didn’t follow you, and you didn’t bother to return to your room either, your stubbornness winning out as you did exactly what you said you would. It was Alec who found you, curled up on your side on the sofa in front of the fire. It was the only thing keeping you warm considering you had forgotten a jacket or blanket of any kind but your pride wouldn’t let you go back for one.

“I’m almost certain Felix has a bed in his room that is more than suitable to sleep in.” Alec quipped. You scowled at him, irritated by your inability to get a proper nights rest and the fact Felix had just let you walk away from such a stupid argument. He’d not come to find you either, though you hadn’t exactly gone to find him either.

“We’re fighting.” You grumbled. Alec’s head tilted.

“About what exactly?” he asked.

“Stupid stuff.” You curled up tighter with a shiver. Alec snorted.

“So your resolution is to freeze in the library all night? Are humans selectively stupid?” he wondered.

“Not you to!” you complained, “There’s nothing wrong with being human!”

“Ah, and we get to the crux of the problem.” He chuckled, leafing through the books to decide which he wanted to read tonight. Your scowl only darkened. It was no secret that your humanity was not favoured among the residents of Volterra and you really couldn’t be bothered for another argument with the witch twin about the perks of remaining mortal.

“If you’re here you’re not in your room, right?” you asked. Alec faced you with the most dead-eyed stare you’d ever seen, and if you hadn’t known the boy any better you might have feared for your life in that moment.

“An astute observation, allow me to counter. If I return to my room and find you in it, I’ll show you exactly why it doesn’t pay to be human here.” He promised. You all but ran from the room, leaving your book bag behind as collateral damage, and Felix welcomed you back silently with nothing more than a nod. You ignored him in favour of getting ready for bed, grateful for the warm covers and completely unaware of the way the giant pressed a feather light kiss to your head as you slept with a mumbled apology his pride wouldn’t let you hear.  

It had been almost a month since the day you had met when you were hit by the brainwave that seemed to just…solve everything. It had been purely accidental. You had gone shopping, in need of some new socks, when you saw them. They were nothing spectacular, just plain black with some little green dinosaurs all over them, but the moment you had thought of what a funny little present they would be for your ancient-ass mate you had realised that they could be a birthday present.

Who said Felix needed to tell you his actual birthday? Your stupid fight a few days ago was still causing tension and it needed to be resolved; since the big dummy didn’t want to back down it seemed you (as loathe as you were to do so) would have to. You had everything you needed by the time you arrived back at the castle, completely forgetting what you had gone out for originally of course, and hurried back to your room to prepare your surprise for him. You had had helium balloons pumped up that said Happy Birthday on the side, but you crossed out the birth part and scribbled in sharpie beneath the printed message so the balloon read Happy Birthday we met instead. You had snagged an anniversary banner and some wrapping paper of course for his socks, including a card and some cake for yourself.

You just had to wait for your mate to finish his guard duty for the day.

With your slice of cake in hand, you had curled up on the sofa to eat it and watch some old reruns of your favourite sci-fi shows while you waited, not daring to look up and see his reaction when you finally heard the door open. There was a very long moment of silence where you dared not even swallow before he finally spoke.

“Happy day we met?” he questioned finally. He stood just in front of the door, his eyebrows raised and impressive arms folded. You merely nodded once and held out your present to him in silence. His eyes betrayed his surprise but he didn’t comment on it as he came to sit beside you. He went to open the envelope attached to the colourful paper and you reached out to stop him.

“Present first.” You insisted. Felix’s eyes rolled but he obeyed, tearing away the paper to reveal his dinosaur socks. There was a pregnant pause as he digested the meaning.

“Really?”

“Just open the damn card next.” You huffed. Neither you nor your mate were very good at speaking about how you felt, but writing…well that you could do. Felix took his time, and you knew better than to interrupt him since it took him so much effort to read simple things. You suspected he had never been taught as a human and was probably dyslexic, so when he turned and the Volturi tried to teach him to read he very much struggle; it was less learning and more remembering what words were supposed to look like, and since those words looked wrong reading was not his most favourite thing to do. The silence stretched and you wondered if perhaps you’d written too much in your card, but just as you were about to speak up Felix disappeared from your sight. Your jaw dropped, your eyes bugging slightly. What the hell did that mean? Was that an outright rejection? Did he still not get what you were trying to do?

“Y/N.” his voice was soft behind you, and you turned to find him down on one knee with a velvet box in hand. Your eyes widened and you scrambled to your feet with a dry mouth.

“Whoa whoa whoa Felix I know I just wrote the L word and all but a ring is-“

“Just open it you idiot.” He smiled slightly as you swallowed past the lump in your throat and hesitantly reached for the box. There was a beautiful silver band inside, very plain, but there was an infinity symbol intwined around it that was studded with tiny diamonds that glistened in the light the same way his skin did. Your eyes widened. It was gorgeous, and after the way you’d treated him it felt entirely undeserved.

“Felix…” you trailed off.

“I had it inscribed.” He told you. You very gently pulled the promise ring from its cushion and tilted it till you could see the word he’d had painstakingly etched into the metal.

Forever.

Felix stood till he was towering over you once more, his touch tender and soft as he carefully slid the ring on to your middle finger. His brows were somewhat furrowed, and he didn’t meet your eyes, but he didn’t let go of your hands either.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked. Felix sighed.

“I was foolish to ever argue with you to being with, neither of us put forward our arguments clearly enough to see there was nothing to argue about.” he admitted, thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry for being so stubborn, I just wanted to celebrate you…you’re kind of cool so…” you stumbled over your words, blushing slightly. Felix chuckled, his free hand moving up to trace your blush with the backs of his knuckles. You leaned into his touch, understanding the gesture as a silent moment of appreciation for you. While he leaned in to kiss the top of your head, you gazed down adoringly at your ring.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive, I should have told you outright. I really don’t know my birthday since we didn’t have calendars, but I lived as a slave. Every year I prayed to my Gods to deliver me from my servitude, and with every winter that passed I remained a slave.” Felix confessed quietly. You pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face in his chest. It was really no wonder Felix had gotten so defensive, they were not the best memories to have, fuzzy or not.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, “I don’t care how old you are, and I won’t bug you about your birthday anymore, I just…wanted you to know how much you meant to me.” His chuckle vibrated through your skull.

“There will be plenty of anniversaries for us to come, shortness. I never meant to hurt you by implying I didn’t care for your human self. There are many things about you I will miss when you turn, but the sooner you do the sooner I can start forever with you…patience has never been my strong suit.” He tilted your chin upward, red eyes boring into yours as his lips inched closer.

“Truce?” you whispered. He hummed in agreement, thoroughly distracted by the way he moulded his mouth to yours in a slow, sweet kiss. With forever at your fingertips you would find plenty of way to celebrate your mate, but for now you would carry on into this blissful little part of your promised forever, savouring the little ways you were learning to love the dinosaur that had decided out of all those he’d met over centuries of existence, you were the one he wanted to keep at his side.  

How do you think Lucien's upbringing was for him to give that evil monologue? I'm specially curious about the "Someone needed to be the parent. When children have been acting out, well, making a mess of their potential, for this long even, a responsible caretaker must show discipline, enact punishment, and take the reins with force". Do you think Lucien was a gifted child who grew up to be the average adult or something like that?

This is actually funny, because Lucien gives that huge ass speech after he EXPLICITLY TOLD THE M9 HE DIDN'T HAVE FAMILY, so like LUCIEN. YOU FUCKING ORPHAN. WHAT DO YOU KNOW.

But I'm going to tell you!

Here's the thing- Lucien gives off two very strong vibes to me, and these two things make up the entire crux of his personality as I, personally see it.

1. Massively self-sufficient.

2. Gifted child who was never challenged properly.

Lucien very much gives off the Dad Friend Vibe of the Tombtakers in like the worst possible way. Like not the NICE Dad Friend. The Dad Friend who has a belt and will use it on you. You know... The, uh... Cult Leader Vibe. What is a cult leader but the worst kind of dad friend. Yikes. Anyway.

So I think most of his speech about caretakers are specific to how HE has viewed wrangling the Tombtakers for however many years he's been doing it, because as someone who has been massively self-sufficient he has had to be his own parent and thus feels he is qualified to be the parent to others, even if he's being a parent to other children. I don't think that came from a place of experience, because I feel like if an adult beat that into him, he would have marginally different issues. Like that whole spiel doesn't sound like it comes from a place of emotional pain, so much as it's just him listing facts about what he thinks parents are supposed to do. It's a very by the book, intellectual response, like someone who has taught himself how to behave like that because It Is Logical And Right. Like in comparison, Lucien, in that same speech, reacts deeply emotionally to one single thing- the way he says "and they chose ME to be their herald" is one of the single most choked up line deliveries he ever gives. THAT is where his emotional pain comes from. He didn't feel special and the Somnovem made him feel special, but WE WILL GET TO THAT. Stick a pin in that.

Honestly, it sounds like Lucien seems to consider ANYONE who isn't him a child, despite the fact that he is CANONLY IN HIS MID-TWENTIES. He talks down to literally every single person he meets. He acts like he walks into rooms, looks at everyone assembled, and immediately is like "wow which of you fucks are wasting your potential in here, have you tried not doing that." I think some of this is just that he has gone so far beyond "enlightenment" that everyone is Lesser than he is, but I also firmly believe he was just Like That. If he sees people who are useful to him, then of course his "parental" nature (re: his manipulative streak) is going to want to try and nurture that potential. I don't even think he actively considers it being manipulative. He thinks he's doing people a favor.

The way he talks about the Somnovem to Cree about how he wanted to save them as they saved him ultimately boils down to this: he believed the Somnovem couldn't function without his intervention and he was the only person who had the skill and imagination to direct them the way they needed to go. And I think he's thought that about A LOT of people over the years. It's not malicious to him. It's not cruel- even if what he does to get obedience probably is. It's for their own good. Again- yikes. He's a fucked up person, y'all.

Now the gifted kid thing gets into some "oh god are you projecting on this villain chris" shit, because I am a former, massively understimulated gifted kid who burned out in high school because I was bored too often and spent more time daydreaming than I did paying attention.

Guess what Lucien's calling card is? Oh right. He's a dreamer.

That's Lucien. Lucien is a gifted kid who had NOWHERE to put his gifts. He's gifted in a town where half the population can't even read, so of course he developed a massive complex about being the smartest in the room, the only TRUE adult, even when he was, yanno a KID.

See when I was in elementary school, I was just soooo smart. I was reading HIGH SCHOOL level books for FUN and ooooooh so cool. Yeah, I'm not even bragging about it. Every gifted kid I have ever met has this same story, and I can be flippant about it because I know where it goes. You get into high school and your brain hits a goddamn brick wall and you get anxiety because you're not the most special anymore. Oh look! There's that pin I put there. I told you we'd circle back to that.

For Lucien, high school was probably the Orders. The Orders are an INTELLIGENCE-BASED organization, meaning for the first time in his life, Lucien isn't the smartest person in the room, because everyone is smart, so he no longer has that advantage he once had and he's no longer special. That is DEVASTATING to deal with, and because Lucien already had a massive superiority complex, instead of burning out and getting passing grades and ultimately resigning himself to a mediocre life of Blood Huntering, he went "no it is the ORDERS who are wrong" and fucked off with his posse.

Which meant that the FIRST THING that made him feel special and validated his existence, he went whole ham on, and then the minute it wasn't what he thought it was, he switched gears and decided "no, I AM special. You just need a little but of parental guidance, and we'll do this properly."

tl;dr: Lucien is 100% what you get when a gifted kid goes absolutely balls to the wall insane. As a former gifted kid, can confirm that I might have sold my soul to a bunch of eldritch sugar daddies if they validated me enough too. I won't lie.

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Two

ao3 - masterpost

here's chapter two! i had fun writing it, hope y'all enjoy!

---

Nesta might not enjoy it, but she knows how to give credit where credit is due, and there's no denying it: her sisters and their friends have thought this plan out thoroughly.

After they've calmed down enough, her sisters move on promptly to the next phase. Elain is off with those shadow wraiths of hers to pack up Nesta's meager belongings and Feyre is explaining to her what the upcoming week will look like.

"The important thing to remember whenever you feel overwhelmed is that the worst is already behind you and you've made it this far and you can continue on," Feyre says, clearly reciting something from memory. "And that we're always going to be there to help you."

She moves on to explain the detoxification process they're going to put her through. She dresses up the words in a healer's jargon and tries her best to be sensitive, but Nesta doesn't like to lie to herself and understands the crux of it: she's fucked up her body too much and can't even be trusted to just stop drinking so she has to be weaned off while under a few sets of eyes.

"So, who's going to be in the House with me?" Nesta asks when she's done.

"We know you don't need a keeper," Feyre says carefully. "If you'd prefer to be alone, you can be. We'll visit you every day, if you'd like. And the library's healer will be checking up on you, of course, as I said. But...do you need anyone in the House? Do you want anyone with you?"

"No," Nesta says, not entirely believing they're going to leave her to her own devices.

Feyre shrugs. "Then take the week to acclimate. We'll come by only as often as you want."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Elain," Feyre says firmly.

Perhaps there had been an argument about that. To her surprise, Nesta feels her throat burn at the thought of her sister standing up for her. No, she does not want any of the others coming to see her like this...she never wants to see them at all, actually.

"The staff has all been cleared out, too," Feyre continues. "The magic of the House should be enough...but of course, if anything's missing--anything at all. Just say so. Shops can't deliver up, but we'll bring anything you need the next day."

Nesta only nods.

"Well...we'll go up now, then, if that's all right with you. We'll have your things delivered later today. Elain will visit as soon as she can."

Elain does not want to visit, Nesta realizes. Not while Nesta's sick and seizing over the next few days.

"She doesn't have to come," Nesta says. "Neither do you," she adds.

"We'll...see how you feel."

Cassian and Rhysand are waiting for them in the dining room. She's not sure whom she wants to see less.

But Cassian's good enough that he isn't looking to humiliate her further and her sister's got her husband on a tight enough leash that mercifully, neither of them says anything. Feyre gives her an encouraging smile as she gently pushes her closer to Cassian and holds onto her shoulder.

The winnowing is instant, too quick to process, especially considering what comes after.

The drop is terrifying, even though it's only for a fraction of a second. Just as Nesta clenches her jaw to stop her instinctual scream, Cassian grabs her in his arms and holds her tightly against himself. The descent slows, and there's an undeniable calming effect of being pressed into something--someone--so warm and strong, but the fear doesn't leave her until she is out of the open air and standing with solid ground beneath her feet.

"All right," Feyre says, slipping out of Rhysand's embrace with approximately none of the urgency with which Nesta ripped herself away from Cassian. "Let me help you get settled."

What on earth that could possibly mean Nesta does not know, as she doesn't carry anything with her and it's not yet eleven in the morning. But it's becoming clear to her that there's another reason for Feyre's shifty eyes.

"Is the same room all right, then?" Feyre asks as they reach it. Two floors below the entrance, once with a door connecting her to Elain, but that's sealed off now. The only difference, as far as she can tell.

"It's fine," she says, peering out the window. She could not help but be taken by the view the first time she had stayed here, and now was no different. The sprawling city in the valley of these red mountains, the Sidra snaking through it, and the glittering sea beyond. It's beautiful. Nesta likes beautiful things.

"You didn't get to decorate it much last time, but if there's anything you'd like..." Feyre trails off.

Nesta doesn't answer. She doesn't feel like pretending to care about decor to help her stall.

Feyre understands, sighing and fiddling with her fingers. "All right, there's some more I have to tell you."

"Go on," Nesta says, not turning from the window.

"Well," she says. "As you know...your apartment...the whole building--subdivision, really--it's...it's..."

"Old," Nesta supplies. Which is not the word her sister was thinking of, she knows.

"Yes, old. Well. The council has decided that they want to...fix it up, so...they're...rebuilding it."

Nesta blinks. "Rebuilding it?"

"Yes."

"It's already built."

"Well. They're..."

"You're tearing it down," Nesta says flatly.

"No!" Feyre says, and Nesta can see her eyes widen in the faint reflection. "I mean...yes, it's being torn down, but they're building it right back up! And much nicer! Hot water and...it'll be right there waiting for you when you...we're keeping it for you. For if you want to stay there again. But you know..." Feyre allows herself a bit of hope in her voice. "You might not want to. Maybe you'd like a different house...if you want..."

What exactly the problem is with her staying in a newly refurbished apartment, Nesta doesn't know. But no matter. It's not as though she's attached to the old one, and if they're going to pay for her to stay there when she's done with this little experiment...fine. Hot water on demand would be nice, at any rate.

"All right," Nesta says.

Feyre waits a beat before saying, "There's more."

Nesta turns to face her.

Swallowing, Feyre says, "Now, I meant what I said about you not needing to be kept."

Here it is, then.

"But there are...two issues with that. Well...maybe three."

She crosses her arms. This should be good.

"Well, as I explained, the first week or so is going to be difficult. And since you don't want to stay in the library and the healer can't always be here and you might...need someone..."

"You're going to be staying the week?" Nesta says sharply, face heating. That--that's too much. She can't take that. The whole week--so Feyre will be able to hear her retching all night long--some of it won't even be because of the alcohol; Nesta often finds herself rushing to the toilet, she hasn't been able to keep a full meal down in over a year.

"No," Feyre says, red as she imagines she is now. "I'll visit if you want. But...no. I thought...no."

Good. That's--good.

"But you do need...someone...for the first week. To make sure...to call the healer, really, if something happens in the middle of the night. And..." Feyre pauses to take a deep breath. "You remember Briallyn." She's blunt, and doesn't phrase it like a question, so Nesta's too surprised to flinch. "Well," she says, taking her widened eyes as a yes, "she's...she remembers you. And she's..."

"She wants to kill me," Nesta says flatly.

"Yes," Feyre responds. "But you don't need to be scared. We're not going to let her get to you."

"You're still not telling me everything."

"No," Feyre says, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's...not easy for me to say. I'm easing into it. All right. She's...we have reason to believe she's formed an alliance within the Night Court."

At this Nesta blinks. "What, you mean..."

"Not any of us," Feyre says, startled. "Of course not! Of course--don't think that!"

She only gives a small shrug. The idea of Morrigan hating her enough to work with that wretched crone is not entirely unbelievable to her, but she doesn't say so to her sister. She can try to try, at least, with what all the pair of them are doing.

The left side of Nesta's lips tugs upwards slightly. Not even a half-smile, just a tic, but Nesta's actually pleased with herself. Not insulting her sister's friend aloud directly to spare Feyre's feelings isn't much, but for her, when she hasn't cared about anyone's feelings in so long...

Feyre isn't privy to all that has gone on in Nesta's mind and she is still trepidative. She takes another deep breath--always with the dramatics, this one, isn't she?--and says, "We have reason to believe Briallyn has formed an alliance with some rebel groups within Illyria. We think she's promised them a path to independence if they get you to her."

Whatever Nesta was expecting, it wasn't this. The Illyrians...she knows, of course, that they don't like her, don't trust her. But Rhysand--Cassian and Azriel--doesn't that mean anything?

"I didn't know they want independence," Nesta says, when she realizes Feyre is peering at her intently, expectantly.

"They want to be allowed to mutilate their females and take revenge on each other as they please," Feyre says. "They can't do that while we're in charge."

"I thought they...liked serving in the Night Court's army." Her cheeks flush the slightest bit--perhaps it's naïve, but leading the Illyrians for this court is the pride of Cassian's life. She had assumed they were the same way. That they didn't like answering to someone born at his low station, sure, but she hadn't known they resented being here.

"It's not everyone," she says. "There were some who sided with Amarantha, some who...listen, you don't need to worry about it. All you need to focus on is yourself right now."

"And," Nesta presses.

Feyre takes yet another deep breath. "Cassian's going to be staying here for a few days. Just a few days!" she hurries. "Just until you're through the worst of it! And just make sure the House is secure while you are here by yourself."

"Why couldn't the House be checked--"

"We didn't want to alert anyone of your presence," she explains. "It's a pretty fantastical theory, that Illyrians are colluding with citizens from Velaris to overthrow Rhys and me, but...stranger things have happened. And since Hybern managed to find you here before..."

She can appreciate that, at least.

"Just a few days."

"A week at most."

"You keep changing the rules."

Feyre raises her arms. "I know. But that's the last of it, I swear."

Nesta's expression does not falter. "I don't appreciate being manipulated."

"I'm not manipulating! I just...didn't want to overwhelm you all at once. I'm...easing you into things."

Nesta considers this for a beat. "Stop doing it right now."

"I will," she says immediately.

At this, Nesta softens, though perhaps imperceptibly.

"All right," Feyre says after Nesta does not bite back. "I'll...leave you to get settled. The healer's left you some tonics there--" she punctuates her words with an arm extended towards the table by Nesta's bedside--"for you to take before bed...and you know where the dining room is...I promise Cassian will stay out of your way. He just might check up on you before you go to sleep, and..."

"Lift me up out of my own sick in the middle of the night?"

Feyre flinches. "Help you. Just until the healer can come up."

Nesta turns back to the window. "So I suppose I'll see you in a week, then?"

"As soon as you'd like."

There's that. That's...something.

"Your things will be delivered tomorrow. If you need anything--"

"You said."

"I know." Feyre wrings her hands, her ring and bracelets clinking softly together. "And...while you're here...Rhys and the others won't just drop by unannounced. We won't--well--if a few weeks--I mean--"

"I've got it," she says.

"Right. Well. Good."

What to say to her sister? They've hardly ever embraced. The time they had started to grow closer is long gone now, both those bodies ashes of the past.

"I just want to say," Feyre starts softly, "that...I'm really proud of you for doing this. I know...trust that I know it isn't easy. But I promise you it will be worthwhile. You'll see."

By the time Nesta summons the nerve to turn around and ask about those innocents, how she had gotten through it, her sister is already gone.

Because Nesta had explored the House when she had been brought here by Rhysand so long ago, she does not feel the need to do so now. She knows where the library is, knows where her room and the dining room are, and those are all she intends to frequent.

She spends the rest of the morning in the library, but she is too restless to keep her focus on a book. After finding herself staring blankly at a wall for the fifth time, eyes refusing to fixate on the words in her lap, she shuts the book and tightly and places it on a table. She doesn't know what she expected. It's been months since she's managed to read. No romance novels for her. No romance, either--not that that had ever happened. But once, she would have thought that the amount of sex she's been having would be linked to...something.

Her life has become an endless stream of not this, not now. Anything to get her out of her own head. Bitter alcohol--the kind she actually likes, gin or white wine, never seems to wipe her mind clean--and sex with strangers. And it works perfectly, because those things befit a lady of her station. That's how the loveless, useless, dregs of society spend their days: drinking, fucking, gambling away someone else's money--

"Nothing to read?"

Nesta startles.

"Sorry," Cassian says, walking up to her and sitting in the big armchair opposite. "Thought you heard me."

It takes her a moment to find her voice. "Did I give any indication of the sort?"

He grins. "Just assumed you were ignoring me."

Would that I could, she thinks darkly. But who could ignore him? Too big, too loud, too...just too much. Too much person for one body.

"Been a while," he says casually.

She doesn't answer, reaching through the drink-stained memories to find the last time she had seen him, besides this morning. Must've been...summer solstice. They had barely spoken, like all their other interactions since the war. She can count them on one hand.

And she does. Far more frequently then she admits to herself.

"Just thought you'd like to know I've finished securing the House."

Nesta nods once, absently. Perhaps this was a mistake. After all, they had thought the House was secure last time, hadn't they? What if they're attacked again? These priestesses...because of her. If they know that Briallyn is going to try and snatch her, that she's formed an alliance with Illyrians who can fly into the veranda, is this really worth the risk?

"Don't," Cassian says, voice low. She tenses as he leans closer to her. "You have a right to be here as much as any of them. Maybe you should have been here all along."

She catches the guilt in his tone, in his eyes, and blinks. That's...not what she had been expecting. And not what she's prepared to deal with.

She stands. "I was informed that you'd stay out of my way."

Just like that, any tenderness snaps out of his posture. He's standing before her, too, wings slightly flared.

"Do forgive me, Lady Nesta," he says with a mocking bow. "I'll let you get back to your riveting activity of staring at the wall in a room by yourself."

She has to say something before he leaves; can't let him end this with her on the losing hand. But she's quick on her feet, even if she never knows where she stands with him.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your perching on the window opposite," she answers, voice icy. A blind shot in the dark, as she hadn't heard him at all. But it appears as though it lands, as his eyes grow even darker and he reins in a snarl as he stalks out.

Nesta loosens a breath as he leaves.

Riling up Nesta like that is never smart, but it's particularly stupid today. Not the least of which being Feyre had specifically ordered him not to.

Cassian tries to force himself to focus on the knives he's throwing, but he's too worked up to even admire the shiny new blades Rhys had purchased especially for this new training center on the top of the House.

"So you have a place to blow off steam," he had explained to him. Away from Feyre, of course, who no longer tolerated any implication that spending time with Nesta could be...difficult.

"It's only a week," he had said. He trains every day, but the refurbished personal arena is unnecessary for that, considering he's supposed to be keeping the House secure for the duration of his stay.

Rhys had only shrugged casually. Cassian knew what he had thought. That it might be more. That he would want to stay...that she would want him to stay.

He catches his and Feyre's snagging glances and innocent suggestions, but he dutifully ignores them each time. Nothing he feels on the subject matters, after all, because Nesta doesn't want anything to do with him.

He knows he shouldn't have approached her. Especially not considering he's supposed to make sure she eats something for dinner and she's not going to want to talk to him twice in a day.

But he just--he can't stay away. Not when she's so close and so...lost. Alone. Sitting in the library, unable to disappear into one of those romances she likes so much--unable to enjoy herself! It's too much to ask of him. To just watch her like that and not say anything. Just go about his day, ignoring the fact that...she needs him.

He does his best to ignore the sneering voice in his mind as the thought crosses his mind. She does need him. Or, rather, she needs someone and he can be that person. He can be exactly what she needs.

If she'd just let him.

And he had intended to be kind and patient. He had started that way, hadn't he? Trying to soothe her obvious fears and insecurities.

She hadn't wanted that. He should have known she didn't want that. Of course it's too much for her, too smothering, so she had shut him out. He knows that. He knows why she does that. But...it still hurt. Every time she rejects him, it hurts.

Not about you, he reminds himself. Feyre hadn't said the words outright, but she had made herself clear. Not that Cassian would ever...he wants the best for her, too. Of course he does. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize her recovery.

Starting right now.

It should be easy, he tells himself. He's gone months without seeing her in the past. Not to mention more than five hundred years before she was born. He can do this. Just...she's in the library and she's safe and she'll eat lunch if she wants to and if not, fine. She doesn't have to. She's been getting so little food these days they don't want to throw her back into it, anyway. Soup at dinner will be enough.

But feeling her presence...knowing she's there, a few storeys below him...in the state she's in, no less....

He manages. What other choice does he have? So he fills his time on the top of the House, doing rounds every so often--not looking in the windows of the House trying to find her--until dinner time, where he paces the dining room like an idiot.

Until she comes in.

She hasn't changed clothes since earlier, and she looks, if possible, worse. Logically he knows that she can't have lost weight since this morning, and the less alcohol in her system must be better, but...her cheeks are definitely hollower. Eyes more sickly. Brilliant, daring, cunning, beautiful gray eyes...lifeless.

Don't screw this up, he tells himself sternly. She needs to eat dinner tonight because she needs to take a tonic along with it. If he upsets her, she won't eat.

But he can't--he can't play this game like she can. Not when she's this far gone. So he says something. Doesn't know what, just knows he has to fill the silence.

"Do you like soup?"

Wonderful. Perhaps the stupidest thing he could ask her.

She ignores him as she sits at the head of the table, making his blood boil. Would she just look at him?

But his anger melts as he watches her gear up to eat. All the strength she has left focused on forcing her arm to extend, her fingers clutching her spoon so tightly her knuckles are a white that scares him. She swallows tightly before she puts the spoon in her mouth, that elegant neck of hers tensing and her delicate, too-protruding collarbone rising with it.

She steels herself one final time as she moves the spoon into her mouth and winces as it goes down.

"Not particularly," she says softly.

It takes him a few moments to realize she's answered him.

He clears his throat. "Well--we could get you something else?" Surely none of the food the House has put out for him will settle right with her, but...toast, maybe? Even if it doesn't have the nutrients she so desperately needs...perhaps she'll take a vegetable spread. Or blended fruit.

"It's no matter."

You matter. The words are right on his tongue, and he has to shove a forkful of steak into his mouth to keep him from letting them out. That might be too much for her. He can't scare her off again.

"Strong flavors...don't sit well with me." She stifles a flinch as she takes another spoonful and downs half a glass of ice water.

That's something, at least. Rehydrating herself properly is important.

"We can dilute it." She'd have to have more of it, of course, but perhaps it'd be worth it.

"It's no matter," she says again.

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, and he's certainly not going to let it continue. But...fine. Let her have this soup tonight. But he'll find something she likes to eat and can stomach soon enough.

They are silent for another few minutes. Cassian pretends not to stare at her and she pretends not to notice. He's well into his second helping before she gets close to finishing her bowl.

"Here," he says, when she only has a few spoonfuls left, and hands her the vial the healer had given him.

"What is this?"

He hesitates. "Mock liquor." To mimic the effects of alcohol without actually putting any in her system. To let her sleep easier.

"Oh. Feyre said. She left some for me next to my bed."

"No, that's an anti-toxin." To push her body in the right direction of purging itself without hurting too much. Lowers the risk of seizing.

"Oh."

He wants to punch himself at the blank look on her face. She has to go through this because they let it get this far. He let it get this far.

But at the very least, she is not going through it alone. Not if it kills him.

Nesta swallows the mock liquor quickly and then finishes off her second glass of water. Picking up her napkin and neatly setting it aside, she rises, and says, "I'm going to bed."

"Good night," he says, though they both know she won't have one and he'll be seeing her in a few hours.

How miserable it is to watch her leave. She's going to have a painful night, and she's probably also scared about Briallyn or the Illyrians attacking her, and she feels alone. He just knows she feels alone.

She's sick and it's his fault. He'd promised her and he'd failed her.

But no more. He's making it up to her. He'll do what he can tonight and this week and for all the rest of it...he's going to keep her safe. Going to weed out every single rebel if he has to go door to door in every camp in Illyria. Nesta has faced her last external battle. He's going to make sure of that.

When she opens the door to her bedroom, there are flames flickering in the fireplace. Flickering, burning...crackling, snapping.

She's not sure how long she stands there at the threshold, before she finds her voice, broken and small, and says, "Could you turn that off, please?"

She doesn't know who she's talking to, how the magic of the House works, but something must be listening, because it dies down. Nesta crosses the room to the windows and cracks one open, enough to stick her head out and breathe in the cold air, ridding the scent of death from her nostrils. She stays there until she's shivering.

"Don't light fires again," she says, voice not as weak as before. "Please," she tacks on.

Nesta's never put so much thought into preparing for bed before, but she knows she has to think about it tonight. The tonics and withdrawal will work hand in hand to make sure she'll wake up ill or seizing or any number of miserable things, and then Cassian will rush in and stay with her until some healer she doesn't know does. She can't decide which is worse.

That's not true. Cassian is worse.

So she picks out a more modest nightgown than she normally would. It's autumn, anyway, and with no extra warmth from a fire, and so high up...not so bad. She might've preferred a pant set, but she's certainly not going to wear those tonight. The shin-length dress and heavy socks will have to do.

Now there is the matter of her hair. Once, she had worn it loose or sometimes braided to sleep, but since Hybern's soldiers had ripped her out of her home by her unbound locks...no. She wears it up.

But they'll know. They'll know she put her hair up to go to bed, and they'll wonder why. And she can't stomach them wondering why.

There's a silk hair tie in the boudoir. Let Cassian think, at least, that there's some vain reason for tying her hair in a bun for bed. Let him not bring it up in mocking, or to her sisters. Let the healer be too professional to say anything.

She hates this. She's already subject to more scrutiny than she'd ever, ever wanted. As Feyre's sister, as a freak of nature. And now it'll be even worse.

What have they told people, she wonders, as she swallows the tonic Feyre's left for her (mostly tasteless, if a bit bitter). That she's been sent to the seaside for her health? That she's doing something for the Night Court in some other land? Or worst of all, the truth?

She wishes, not for the first time, that she could just get a grip on herself. Just get over everything as swiftly as Elain has, or even made her own happiness like Feyre. Goodness knows she was never really going to have it there, below the Wall. She was never made for that. And now she's been Made, and no one knows what for.

The thoughts are too miserable to wallow in for long, and luckily, she doesn't have to. One of the tonics sends her to a deep, claiming sleep, soon after climbing into bed.

Or so she thinks, until a few hours later, when she is up and sweating and gasping and doesn't even make it all the way to the bathroom before collapsing on the floor, and a bucket appears in front of her, and all the soup and tea and water from yesterday is being violently, violently, violently, squeezed out of her. Like it's someone else's doing, like she can't even control her own body.

She doesn't hear Cassian come in, just feels him lift her slightly.

"It's all right," he says, calm. He doesn't whisper, which feels almost obscene in the darkness. "You're all right. The healer's on her way, Nesta."

She doesn't answer. She wants to disappear. He's stroking her back...can he feel how thin she is? Of course he can. But can he feel how weak, how pathetic? She's not stopped shaking. She tries to tense to stop it, can he tell?

But then she throws herself forward as she's sick all over again, and it's not even worth it, she just wants to be left alone to die in peace, nothing is worth this, nothing, nothing, nothing.

"Stay with me," he says, one hand on her waist and another rubbing along the length of her arm. "Here she is, Nesta."

"Good night, Lady Nesta," says a soft, female voice. "My name is Daphne. I'm the healer for all the girls at the library. I'm a priestess, too."

She's one of the girls then, she means. Or she was. What had it been to send her to this place? Had she been a healer before?

But again, Nesta says nothing.

"I'm just going to do some quick checking," Daphne says, in her soft voice. "Just to make sure you're all right." She settles her fingertips on different points on Nesta's body, almost too fast to register with all her shaking. Temples, pulse points, abdomen. "All right," she says. "How do you feel?"

After a few seconds, it becomes clear Nesta has to answer. "Fine," she manages, voice barely a rasp.

"Brave girl," Daphne coos, not unkindly. Nesta wants to die all over again. "Do you feel very cold?"

Nesta thinks for a moment, trying to reach out to her whole body. It's an effort not to curl up into a dark spot in her mind and just let it all happen.

"Not very," she says. A little cool, maybe.

"Do you feel very hot?"

"No."

"Good," she says. "It looks as though you're reacting very well to the tonic. I think the symptoms we're seeing now will be the ones we see over the next few days."

Which is a polite way of saying that Nesta's going to keep vomiting and sweating and shaking, but at least it won't be any worse.

"Drink this. It'll help you settle to sleep again."

"Do you think she'll wake up again?" Cassian asks, his arms still around her.

"No, I think she'll sleep till morning. The tonics are good like that. Help to regulate the system and reactions. Do you need help with anything else, Lady Nesta?"

"I can help her," Cassian says, when it becomes clear she isn't going to reply.

"Just make sure she drinks another glass of water before falling asleep."

"I will. Good night. Thank you."

"Of course, General. Good night."

Cassian sits there, stroking her back, for another few minutes, before she summons the strength to shift slightly out of his hold. He doesn't hesitate, moving seamlessly to help her stand. He walks her to the bathroom so she can wash her mouth.

"You have to drink this," he says, handing her a glass of water.

"I know."

He opens his mouth again, but she cuts him off.

"I don't want to hear it."

She can hear his frown in his voice. "You don't know what I was going to say."

Raising her eyes, she catches his gaze in the mirror. "You want to assure me that I'm not pathetic."

He blinks. "I wasn't going to...do you want me to do that?"

Nesta sets down her toothbrush. "I just said I didn't." She can feel the tonic already starting to work as her head clears. She experimentally eases her weight off the counter. Yes, she can stand on her own now. She takes the glass from him and starts to drink slowly.

"I wasn't aware that I needed to assure you of that. Is...do you think that?"

She only sips her water.

His eyes widen. "Do you think I think that?"

Nesta says to no one, "Could I have more water, please?"

Cassian's eyebrows quirk slightly as he watches the House's magic respond, but then he says, taking her chin, "Nesta. Look at me."

Well, when he's given her no choice.

"I have never in my life thought you were pathetic."

How, she wonders as they stand there like that. How could he possibly be telling the truth? For he is strong and sturdy and commanding and she had to hang onto the bathroom counter for support as she washed the sick out of her mouth after beginning a withdrawal process from alcohol.

And yet, somehow, she knows he isn't lying.

"You can get back to bed yourself, then," he says, dropping his hand. "You know where I am if you need me. Good night."

He doesn't wait for her to reply, just turns and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

His warmth lingers in the room far after he's gone, as does his touch on her face. She loses count of how many times she traces over it before she falls asleep again.

Don't why the fans especially the manga readers are hyping about tooru breaking the curse when she didn't even do shit. she just went on that silly adventure and be an annoying crybaby whenever she learns something new about the curse. it was actually akito who broke the curse so i can't understand what you are all hyping tohru on.

Ah yes, I to remember the days when I’d be deliberately antagonistic just for fun and beat on female characters for showing emotions and caring about people. Or indeed, resent characters for having entirely realistic reactions to the cosmic horror and terror that surrounds them. Then I turned 16 and HER WE ARE ten years later and I get to see it from a whole new perspective! What fun. 

In your misguided attempt to cause drama by shitting on people having a good time by being excited about upcoming character moments, much like Dr Flemming’s unwashed petri dish, you have hit upon something that benefits further discussion and interest. 

That point being, was it TOHRU who broke the curse, or was it Akito? 

The answer, I believe, is both. SPOILERS FOR ANIME ONLIES TONY YOU ARE WARNED DO NOT @ ME AGAIN IF YOU MESS UP. 

When Tohru sets out to break the curse and stop the love of her life from being locked up in a cold dark room for the rest of his existence, she finds out that the curse is firstly, a bond of blood sworn by the spririts of the past and not something that can be physically manifested, and secondly, that the curse has already begun to break RE: Kureno. 

Now, there’s a LOT of theories about why Kureno’s curse broke and if it truly was some random event or if there was a trigger. I think it’s a combination of the two. It’s noted by the maids and by (I think) Shigure that this is the first time in a long time that the entire Juunishi are present. There is also a sizeable age gap betwee Hiro and Kureno, that would about match up between Hiro being an infant when Kureno’s curse broke. Ergo, I propose that his curse broke soon after their first New Year’s together as a complete banquet with no spaces missing. Save that of the cat, of course, but more on him later. 

Kureno is the rooster, and I believe that in legend the Rooster was seen as the closest to God because he could deliver messages between heaven and earth. Therefore it makes sense that the first to leave God alone, is God’s messenger. “We have had our final Banquet, it’s time to end the cycle.” 

Of course Akito/God does not have a positive reaction to this, and the loss of one Juunishi inspires a great sense of loneliness and fear within Akito similar to that which lead to the creation of the bond in the first place. We do not see God being willing to make any attempt to work on achieving the Cat’s wish of finally being able to form friendships beyond the Zodiac and forming bonds with the humans he was so afraid of before. 

And THAT is the crux of the matter. Tohru came into the Sohma’s lives and began to break the curse simply by forming close bonds with them all, and letting them into her life and react to the world around them. Hana and Uo are both friends with Kyo and Yuki, actively choosing to spend time together. We also see that in Kyo attending the same school as Yuki, it opens up that same school to Haru and Momiji where they too can form bonds outside of the Sohma influence. It’s a school THEY chose, not the single sex one Akito picked out. Equally this means we have to give some credit to Yuki for making the brave choice of defying his parents and Akito’s wishes by attending a mixed school, and Shigure (who continues to be the mastermind here) for goading Akito into allowing Kyo to also attend that school and not simply pay off the private school he was MEANT to attend and have them let him back in. 

It’s also no real surprise that the two other Juunishi whose curses break before the final scene are Momiji and Hiro. Hiro is shown to be forming bonds outside of the Zodiac too. Not only has he matured enough that he is able to understand things from Tohru’s perspective now and has a relatively positive relationship with her, he ALSO becomes a Big Brother with a little sister he adores. Again, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that his curse breaks whilst he is in the same room as her. The Sheep has formed a meaningful relationship outside of the Zodaic, so it is time for the Sheep Spirit to return to its original realm. We then have Momiji, who is absolutely desperately in love with Tohru and is also equally desperate to be allowed to have a relationship with his OWN sister. Momiji’s curse breaks only after he has gone through puberty though and reaches adulthood. It’s when he starts to truly understand the path that is laid before him, and where he stands in it. He WANTS a relationship with Tohru, but he can also recognise that she is in love with Kyo and that makes it all the more painful. He knows that as he ages he is only going to be made to feel more distant from his sister, and that hurts too. HOWEVER, Momiji doesn’t ever stop LONGING for meaningful relationships and a world beyond the life of the Zodiac. He recognises that he does not have anything really tying him to the Sohma anymore, and so his curse breaks. The rabbit spirit has no need to be part of the banquet, and so heads home.   

Now, as you can see, whilst Tohru is a key trigger in the breaking of the curse, she’s still not the one to actively do it, right? 

Well, wrong. Sort of. 

Take note that when we’re told the ACTUAL story of the Original Banquet , we find that the Cat was the first friend God ever made, and was also the first to die. It was the death of the cat that triggered God into creating the eternal bond that would always bring them together, and it was the cat’s terror and dismay at being forced into such a bond that caused them to disown him. The cat has, all along, simply wanted God to make friends. The first who had the curse take effect upon them, was the one who rejectd it the most and as such was then shunned forever more. The cat wanted God to make bonds outside of the Zodiac, and in turn the cat was forever banned form making those bonds. Even though we’ve been show the Cat was granted some realtionships in the form of Kazuma’s Grandmother; it is a relationship made out of pitty rather than love and understanding. 

Tohru though? Torhu is the God Damned (excuse the pun) Year of the Cat Fanclub PRESIDENT. Nobody loves and respects the OG Cat Spirit in the way she does. She emphasied with the Cat’s plight in the legend her mother told her, feeling sorry for them being tricked like that and being forced to miss out on being part of the legend. She wanted the cat to join the group! She cradled the cat’s body in much the same way God in his final moments, as instead this time Tohru brings him back into the light and forms a stronger and longer lasting relationship with the cat spirit through love and empathy.

And later on, in that same mountainside, it is TOHRU who is the one who reaches out her hand to god and asks to become friends. It is the act of God forming friends with mortal humans that triggers Akito/God to finally release everyone from their curse. That’s why it happens when it does, when Akito knows that Tohru is safely out of hospital, that she has still welcomed Akito into her life... and that if Akito is going to take those terrifying steps into forming relationships that can end in rejection, she’s going to have to do it on her own two feet. 

THAT is how Tohru breaks the curse. THAT is what is important here and what is so FUCKING HARD ROCK about Tohru Honda. We see her willing to stand up to GOD in order to break the curse, but she stands before God as an EQUAL. Tohru WILL break the curse. She WILL fight for her soulmate. She WILL make you be friends with her and address your deep seated issues of self hate and abandonment (not that she has those issues herself ahahahha no I’m just your average happy go lucky teenager with two dead parents who lives in a tent I’M FINE) 

Of course, it turns out that everything Shigure and Kazuma told her about breaking the curse was true: That she didn’t have to do anything other than to continue to be herself. HOWEVER, in order to BE herself she needed to try and have a “silly adventure” where she tested her metal and learnt to speak up for herself. Why are we excited? Because we’re going to see Tohru finally find the confidence to speak out against others without harm! We see her get into a fight with Rin about it. We see her refusing to back down against Kagura. We see her standing on her own two feet and saying “No. No I don’t want that. I REFUSE to give in and to leave well alone!” 

All before, Tohru has been so scared to speak up for herself because of her debilitating abandonment issues (and please let’s not make fun of people’s mental health issues, okay? I haven’t been having a weekly therapy session for nearly two years now just because for the fun of it) but now she’s got to the point where she feels comfortable and secure enough to show an uglier side to herself that people might reject. She is able to be mean, and shout, and fucking break into someone’s house in order to get what she wants! How can a TRUE fruits basket fan NOT be excitd for that level of character development? 

And to end it, please, for the LOVE OF GOD it is 2020. I am 26 years old. I have been on tumblr since 2011. Do not send me hate about female fictional characters and expect me to roll over. My username is “Mrs Mary Morstan”. Mary. Morstan. The most hated female character in all of BBC Sherlock. Do not even try to fucking test me, you Petri Dish. 

THE SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS MOVIE: AN INVERSION ON “COMING OF AGE” FILMS AND A CRITICISM OF ADULTHOOD

Hi hello hey it’s me Jericho Jay “Japes” Marshall out here with a pretentious love letter to the filmmaking on display in nickelodeons The Spongebob Movie. Yes, I know it’s a kids movie. Yes, I know it’s not that deep. But I’m majoring in english, and deeply depressed, so I need to get this OUT and onto a PAGE.

I have watched this film many times over my lifetime, a few when i was just a kid, then in my early teens, even when i turned eighteen, and now, a month before i turn 20. Every time, I grow a new appreciation for the nuances that this movie brings to the table, and on my most recent watch my own deliverance from childhood makes me relate to the core themes the hardest I ever have. The Spongebob Movie isn’t just a movie about childhood, but a movie about adulthood.

Today, I’m going to make clear exactly how The Spongebob Squarepants Movie criticizes our understanding of adulthood and how society treats the neurodivergent, while effectively turning the “Coming of Age” genre on its head, within its 87 minute runtime.

START: CONSISTENT CHARACTERIZATION

One thing a lot of films (ESPECIALLY kids films) fail to nail is consistently showing aspects of a character throughout the runtime, enough that changes to a character feel impactful and justified instead of rushed and stifled. The best examples of movies that fail to do this are often the marvel movies that people tend to not remember- the first two thor movies, the avengers age of ultron, etc. In these movies, characters certainly have traits, but their personalities and motives can be very weak and make dramatic changes feel A LOT less dramatic. This can be seen in age of ultron, when quicksilver gave his own life to save someone else, which felt like nothing because he wasn't well developed. He wasn't particularly endearing, nor did him sacrificing his life contradict a part of his character. It felt very much like the writers trying to say "Look, this character which was once opposing the avengers, is now dying for one. Please cry." No hate to the writers of Age of Ultron, but it proves itself often to be an unmemorable part of the catalogue.

In the Spongebob Movie, the characterization is ON. POINT. After the introduction, with the pirates rushing in to watch spongebob, we get so much information regarding spongebob as a character.

Pictured: Spongebob holding a piece of cheese like an operator

The first scene of the plot is a dream sequence a large crowded scene at the Krusty Krab, with a customer not receiving cheese on his patty, and it being positioned in the same way as a bomb being located. In the dream, everyone is panicked, and Mr. Krabs is visibly distressed, almost like a damsel. Spongebob comes in, announcing his position as manager, much to the relief of Krabs. He goes in, and puts cheese on the burger (again, very akin to a bomb defusal scene), bringing the perturbed customer out safe and sound. Everyone lifts spongebob up as a hero, which is interrupted by his boat alarm.

This scene is JAM PACKED with stuff that both introduces the character to new watchers and introduces the crux of his arc to everyone else. Spongebob of course is very fond of the Krusty Krab, and wants to be the manager- he wants people to see him as cool, and as a responsible adult. He wants to be the sort of person that can be trusted with big responsibilities. And we also see, most importantly, that he is extremely childish through his faximile of what it meant to be adult. Everything is scaled up; it's a very silly situation, which well suits both the joke and his character as an inexperienced kid. This is one of the most direct ways to convey someone's character, because a dream can be interpreted as a direct port into a character's desires. This being the first introduction to the character in the movie sets the tone for EVERY following situation.

In the next few scenes you see Spongebob's real life, which involves his lengthy morning routine; his life is sort of whimsical, and so too is his routine. He showers by shoving a hose into himself till he bursts with water, he uses toothpaste to clean his eyes but not his teeth, and he puts on pants which he must fold to make. Again, all pretty solid jokes, but also very telling about his outlook. He is funny, weird, and childish, which is juxtaposed by the scene where he's- he's uh- showering with squidward. Squidward is an example of the "adult" that spongebob isn't. This has always been the case, but here his normal routine makes it very clear that other people in this world aren't like spongebob. They shower normally, they brush their teeth, they put their clothes on like normal. Spongebob's world is one of wonder and without responsibility, which makes it questionable as to whether he could handle one.

Pictured: Spongebob's room, adorned with childhood imagery

Pictured: Spongebob celebrating his position as a manager, despite Krabs saying that it was squidward who got it

Even his room in this scene screams "kid". He has toys strewn about, glow in the dark stars, and pictures of superheroes on the wall. He even says "Sorry about this calendar" as he rips a page, personifying inanimate objects as a kid would. The movie is telling you, "THIS CHARACTER IS A KID", but in a way that's masked because it's also just a set up for jokes. It's done so well, in my opinion, that it would go over your head because from your perspective you would be laughing along as spongebob did his wacky antics.

On top of that, his excitement for his assured managerial position at the Krusty Krab 2 continues to be bolstered. He marked it off with a cute drawing on his calendar, for those familiar he changes his normal "I'm ready" chant to "I'm ready- promotion-", and he's even already set up a party to celebrate at his favorite chain, Goofy Goobers, a child's entertainment restaurant similar to chucky cheese, albeit replacing pizza for ice cream. He hasn't just gotten excited, but has this childish anticipation for something which isn't even assured.

Spongebob arrives at the opening of the Krusty Krab 2, where he is so excited he can't contain his glee. He breaks the silence and makes members of the crowd uncomfortable, reinforcing again that spongebob is a standout in a world of adults, and a kid who doesn't understand certain social norms, which society looks down upon. When Krabs reveals that Squidward got the managerial position, Spongebob hyped himself so much that he starts celebrating, not even noticing that he wasn't picked. He gets on stage, and begins to give a speech, to which Krabs interrupts.

The next part I think best illustrates Spongebob's clear ignorance to society: Krabs attempts to subtly tell spongebob that he isn't getting the job, but spongebob repeats everything he says into the microphone. Again, fantastic joke, grade A, but the amount this shows how invested spongebob was. He already saw himself as an adult, someone who everyone would look up to as a manager- he could take the responsibility, and isn't aware of everyone likely cringing in the audience. This is the natural step for him in his mind, especially because of his exemplary work which had been previously celebrated through employee of the month awards. This was not an option for him. There wasn't a world in his mind where he would be outclassed by squidward.

Krabs has to break to him that he lacks responsibility, and that his childishness makes it difficult for Krabs to give him such a job. This might seem harsh, but I think the intro again shows how Spongebob saw the job; he didn't understand what it would be like, fantasizing another level in the menial work structure to be an amazing adventure of a job. People in the crowd reaffirm that in the eyes of society, spongebob is just a kid, a goofball. In my eyes, this is a story not just of childhood, but of neurodivergence. Spongebob isn't normal, and is blocked by society for his ignorance of social norms and sunny disposition. He finds things fun that other people can not, and he places values in completely different things. So he is blocked from the meaningful recognition he desired, despite the obvious evidence of his commitment.

I think this is a mighty interesting dichotomy!!! Simultaneously, spongebob's understanding of the world truly is warped, often resulting in a lack of consideration for others as well as harm for himself when things don't go his way, AND he is a good worker which puts in MANY hours of work without so much of a complaint. This is COMPLEX. You have to ask yourself, as a viewer, "would I give spongebob the job?" The answer can be different and can be REASONED.

And that's JUST spongebob! There are other characters with characterization that mixes into the themes of the movie very well, but I'm going to bring up any related points in future sections.

Okay, Okay. So now you're saying "WOW OKAY GREAT so why does any of this matter?" I'm so glad you asked. VERY glad.

2: THE BREAKING OF A YOUNG MAN'S SPIRIT

THIS is the point of the movie. The obstacle in this movie truly isn't adulthood, but instead self doubt. Spongebob's whole world is turned upside down by Krab's rejection of his basic personality. Spongebob asks himself: is it REALLY okay to be who I am? Am I an adult? Is the world fair? One of the most shocking scenes in the movie is blended so well in tone with the rest that you don't really notice; spongebob eating ice cream to cope with his disappointment, akin to that of adults drinking alcohol, and appearing to be visually "drunk" and washed up. This is BRILLIANT, and a recurring theme, where the true line between adult and childhood becomes blurry and impossible to see. Spongebob, the representation of a kid, gets hungover, spiteful, and angry about the injustice of his situation. This is often how adults act in the fact of adversity, but what's funny is that this too is how a kid would act; getting angry and overindulging, feeling entitled and acting socially immature when he didn't get what he wanted. He walks in to the Krusty Krab literally just to shit talk Krabs. And it doesn't stop there.

Pictured: Plankton finding "Plan Z" and looking at it like a centerfold in a playboy magazine

Almost every character in this movie juxtaposes another, again smearing the line of what it means to be an adult. For example, Spongebob and Plankton are polar opposites; plankton is cold and vengeful, angry at the world around him, and spongebob is a happy person who tends not to take things personally, a friend to all. In planktons first appearances in the movie, he is portrayed with clear adult themes, mocking spongebob, making pinup jokes about plan z, and living in a fairly dark and grey space. But, as the story moves along, we see many similarities; both spongebob and plankton are fairly one track minded, and when spongebob's perception is broken he himself gets a little vengeful. When eugene is put in danger over this, though, we do see that he places the lives of others over his own wants. And, even at the end of the movie, we see their similarities. Plankton reuses the "Sorry Calendar" joke that spongebob used at the start of the movie, drawing another line of what it means to be an adult. Is it childish of plankton to say that? Is the inherent irony he has impactful here? His want for something that isn't his, and his disregard for others in pursuing it feels just like how a younger child may steal the toy of another, without understanding what it means to share.

Pictured: Neptune flipping his shit at his lost crown

Then, there's the character of Neptune. Neptune is a big man baby. He rules the entire land, commands the most respect, and is considered the most powerful person under the sea, and yet, we see that he gets overprotective of his property, prepared to execute anyone who even annoys him. Throughout the film, he's obsessed with chasing an image of youth, as he is bald, and ignores the suffering of the people on bikini bottom to make sure no one sees his bald head. He throws what's equivalent to a tantrum when he finds his crown is missing, and believes a very crude note written by plankton saying that it was eugene who stole it. His character is an "acceptable" child because he's in a position of power, where spongebob is an "unacceptable" child as he is just a working class member of society. And the funniest part is, that he mocks spongebob for wanting to go for the crown, when even he, the strongest person in bikini bottom, refuses to go out of fear.

We see that these "bastions" of adulthood, plankton and neptune, are the ones who are responsible for missteps of society; we're ALL children in the long run, but the strict enforcement of a perceived true adulthood creates a space where they can act immaturely yet those under them/around them cannot. Dennis makes this case even more, as the only thing he does in this movie is hurt others. There's only one thing that seems to truly denote adulthood, and it's cruelty.

Even squidward, the adult that is supposed to be more responsible that spongebob, refuses to go on the quest to retrieve the crown, as he acts mostly in self interest, even later claiming to only care that plankton was stealing the secret formula as it was hurting his own paycheck.

Spongebob is the only one willing to go, willing to defend the man who wronged him, willing to value life over his own interests. He is both child and adult, just as the adults are too children.

As he moves through the plot of this film, he becomes less confident in his disposition, with his naivete causing moments like him and patrick crossing the state line and immediately getting carjacked, or them being put into an uncomfortable situation by all the bubbles they blew when they tried to get their car back. His bright personality is questioned constantly: Only five days to shell city? BY CAR. This is man's country. But weren't we the double bubble blowing babies?

Pictured: Spongebob caught trying to take back the key to the patty wagon when patrick fails to distract everyone

This is made more obvious to him as patrick remains oblivious throughout; patrick is a mirror for him, that acts as a childhood constant, that makes it clearer for him every day the draws of his childishness. There's the moment in the club where patrick's distraction was poorly thought out, and only because he said he wanted to do it adamantly, there's the moment where patrick challenged neptune on how many days they would have to do it, which served no purpose but for his own fun, there's the moment patrick points out the free ice cream trap- he is the unemployed uncritical lens that spongebob is afraid he is.

So everything's fucked, and anyone who is childish is bad i guess!!!

But that isn't so,

3: The illusion of manhood

So we've talked about spongebob's characterization as a naive child, how this is impactful in his transformation into someone who is anxious about that aspect of his personality, and how the society around him is hypocritical in it's own immaturity. But where does this all come together?

Pictured: Planktons dystopian world, which Mindy shows Spongebob and Patrick

It's at spongebob and patricks "conversion to manhood". At his lowest point, spongebob becomes a squidward- he becomes critical of his AND patricks interests, and regards them as childish, deciding that this means that they can't make it to shell city, as it requires them to be adults. When mindy shows them the dire situation back home, she hopes that spongebob's sunny personality and care for others would shine through, but instead he turns to what society has been telling him; it's impossible. He can't do it, he's just a little kid, and there is no point to any of this as he'll fail regardless.

Thinking about it like this, it truly is one of the darkest points in the entire series; spongebob just openly admitted that there was nothing he could do, that all of his friends were goners because he was effectively useless.

Mindy comes up with an idea; she'll trick spongebob and patrick into believing they're men; she convinces them of mermaid magic (their innocence allowing them to believe) and uses kelp to make them think they've matured into adults. Notice that physical modifiers being the only key to this "fake adulthood". With this, they jump off a cliff because they believe that with adulthood, they are invincible.

This is really telling about how the society they're in thinks of being an adult, and relays that to children. There's another level, a distinct separation between spongebob and adulthood, which seemed like the difference between a squire and a knight- being an adult means that you aren't weak anymore (as though he was weak in the first place), and thus you can do things you never thought before. Is it truly healthy that this is how a society tells kids that adulthood is like, for them to enter the world and feel a truly awful financial and literal hellscape waiting for them? uh, you can, you can decide that for yourself i think.

Nonetheless, they survive the fall, and conclude that they really are invincible, able to power through a ravine with their happy go lucky attitude, eventually befriending the monsters which were once trying to kill them. They weren't acting like adults, but the labels themselves made it possible for them to soldier on with the childlike disposition they had. I find that to be powerful. If we were able to be more hopeful as adults, and power through the worst things brightly, could we do great things? Idk but these depression meds sure do taste good nom nom

After crossing the ravine, spongebob and patrick meet dennis, and have their worldview crushed as it's revealed that they are actually still kids. Dennis being the "alpha male" that he is, is characterized by violence and a lack of morality. The pair are saved by a giant boot, which is the first of two humans in this movie. Spongebob and patrick are both taken by the man in the diver suit, as we fade to black, marking the end of their illusion of adulthood.

4: Back from the Edge (of death)

Spongebob and Patrick awaken in an antique shop, realizing that they were surrounded by fish that had been killed specifically for sale as tacky antiques. They are lifted out of their fishbowl, and put under a heatlamp, as their fate is sealed to become a member among those dead fish. In spongebob's final moments, he mourns his inability to be an adult, as well as to reach shell city; but before they both die, patrick points out that they truly did reach shell city, as the crown was within their reach.

This. This is a phenomenal scene. Why? Because of what it means for spongebob's arc.

Pictured: Spongebob and Patrick on their deathbeds, finding happiness

He sees the crown, and realizes that, unequivocally, that even if he didn't bring the crown back, he made it to shell city. Every person he met told him that he couldn't even do that. and he did it. He is a kid, yes, but he's a kid who went where not even NEPTUNE dared go. Everything people said about him, about how him being a kid stopped him from success, was suddenly shattered. He has been asking himself if it's okay that he is a kid, and he saw, unambiguously, that it is. He is allowed to be happy. He can enjoy things that other people don't. He can be naive. He can be himself, no matter what anyone says. And so can you. Great things can be done by people who are "childish", who are "naive", who are kind without expecting a return, all of it. YOU are okay. Your stims are okay, your comfort series are okay, your interest in tropes are okay, YOU'RE OKAY!!!!

with that, spongebob and patrick are dehydrated on the table, and ostensibly die, the kids that they are, shedding one final tear each, forming a heart beneath them.

...

Miraculously, the tear electrocutes that lamp at it's socket, causing smoke to rise and set off the sprinklers, rehydrating the pair, and bringing them back to life. The "Man in the Suit" attempts to capture them, seeing them about to lift Neptune's crown, but the rest of the dehydrated fish come back to life- squirting him with his own glue and beating him to the ground, as spongebob and patrick run out with the crown. David Hasselhoff offers them a ride back to Bikini Bottom, and the pair begin their ride back.

5: The confrontation of Adulthood and Childhood

Pictured: Dennis looking all lame and shit

As spongebob and patrick are being swam back to bikini bottom, the boot under which dennis was crushed rockets to Hasselhoff, spitting him back out to finish the job. The appearance of Dennis, IN MY OPINION, makes him look rather goofy, with his broken glasses making him look more like a office worker than a badass assassin as he attempts to kill spongebob and patrick. Spongebob, in trying to reason with him, is able to ruin his eyes with bubbles, and then survives as dennis gets hit by a raised platform which spongebob and patrick are too low to be hit by.

Having defeated one representation of adulthood, spongebob and patrick are shot down by HasselHoffs MASSIVE MAN TITS with the crown in order to prevent Krab's fate, blocking Neptune's lazer just in time as they crash in.

All seems to be well, but plankton uses one of his mind control helmets (which we'll be getting into later) to enslave even Neptune, putting mindy, spongebob, patrick, and Krabs against the wall.

In another stark moment of characterization, Spongebob tells patrick that "Plankton Cheated", which prompts plankton to tell spongebob that the situation wasn't a kiddy game, and that it was the real world. This sort of distinctions in their ethos tell you how spongebob interacts with justice; he believes in "playing fair", while plankton is bitter and believes in getting what he wants.

Finally, the apex to our plot, is a musical number. Spongebob begins to make a long-winded speech, where he takes ownership of every label he was called as he stood on the stage at the beginning, the similarity between the two events being clear (holding a microphone at an inappropriate time, making a speech as he blocks out input from an adult trying to talk him down). Spongebob then busts out into the film's rendition of Twisted Sister's "I Wanna Rock", "I'm a Goofy Goober". This results in spongebob reversing plankton's whole plot with "the power of rock and roll". Plankton is made powerless, and thrown into a little padded cell.

The final scene in the movie has Mr. Krabs freed from his imprisonment in ice, and spongebob is offered squidwards position as manager of the second Krusty Krab. He seems hesitant, and squidward offers an insightful analysis of what spongebob might be feeling (the typical analysis of a coming of age movie, where the protagonist finds out that what they wanted all along is not what they wanted, but it was what was inside all along). Spongebob refutes that squidwards fly was just down, and GLADLY accepts the job.

AND THAT'S THE MOVIE

6: AN INVERSION ON THE COMING OF AGE GENRE

A coming of age story tends to be one which is focus on the growth of a character from childhood to adulthood, asking questions about what it means to be an adult. A character reaches for their perceived adulthood, and realizes what it means to ACTUALLY be an adult, typically juxtaposing what people think (drugs, parties, sex) versus what the movie postures as the correct adulthood (responsibility). In this, I think that the spongebob movie directly criticizes the position of what "an adult" is, in the sense of how someone acts.

Like we discussed in part 2, every adult character in this movie tends to be very childish in themselves, unable to see through simple ruses, and often very possessive of personal property. I don't think we actually see a child in this movie as a speaker at any point, only really as background characters (in goofy goobers to solidify spongebob as childish, and I believe in the chum bucket as they're lead to an unsafe place by their parents, who are supposed to be responsible). Thus, what is mostly examined is how adulthood and childhood is a very thin line. Squidward, for example, going directly to plankton to accuse him of stealing the formula, instead of taking it to the top immediately, which would have ended this whole thing fairly quickly; that was rather silly, and was the fruit of his need to assert himself as an adult.

Spongebob goes through this movie FIRST not caring much about whether or not he was an adult, and it is only after the social pressure from adults does he start to chase it. He then chases his perceived image of an adult, going on an adventure, and is crushed by the fact that he isn't an adult. Instead of finding what an adult is, he instead becomes comfortable with his existence as a child, finding himself at the end of the movie able to comfortably chase after an ideal again, where in a normal movie he would humbly reject the job he was offered.

This is, truly, what we should all take from this film. Spongebob realizes that people who aren't necessarily socially adjusted or acceptable can do great things, regardless of what the people around them say, especially because the people around them are liable to throw tantrums and be actively harmful to society. He is allowed to find comfort in childish things, and to be naive, because the world needs more people willing to help others. It's a scathing criticism on the imposed adulthood that exists in a lot of coming of age films, which begs us to drop fun in the interest of doing the right thing, as though those two ideas are contradictory.

BONUS: EXTRA STUFF THAT I LIKED

The goofy goober song became really good storytelling, at first marking childishness, then marking a level of discomfort and judgement in the club, then marking spongebob recognizing that his happiness came from what he liked and not some vague idea of adulthood, and finally marking his full acceptance of his childishness, taking the form of rock, the music of rebellion. It's not as subtle as leitmotifs, but it works really well in how the same song can give very different feelings throughout, and inform how we interact with a story.

There are a lot more examples of adults being pressured into childishness, with the connected twins who liked goofy goober at the club, who were beaten senseless for absolutely no reason, which highlights the way that the society hurts people that, by all means, are just as much adults as anyone else. There's of course Plankton's helmets which created a society of people who simply slaved away with nothing to say, taking life as it came and listening to authority.

On top of that, this movie is PRETTY ANTICAPITALIST AND ANTIMONARCHY, despite those things being allowed to continue to exist at the end- monarchy is seen misusing power constantly and often for unfounded reasons, and Spongebob's diligence at work is rejected by a penny pinching Krabs, who cares only about money. Like, THE KRUSTY KRABS ARE RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER? THAT IS SOME MONTY PYTHON ASS SHIT. This year is the first year i laughed at that joke, because it's really some "capitalists are fucking dumb as shit" humor that slipped over my head when i was a kid. The villain literally being defeated by Rock and Roll, which was sung with a message against the oppression of differences in people? Yeah, I think the spongebob movie hated rich mother fuckers.

END: UH YEAH THAT'S WHAT IT IS

So yeah. The movie is good I think. There's a lot more i could go into, but I've been writing this post for hours and at this point i haven't even read it so...

I recommend going back and giving this film a rewatch!!! Pay attention to all the moments where adults act like children/kids act like adults, because it'll make ur brain pop like a zit. Anyways that's me, I'm Jericho Jay "Japes" Marshall, and I HATE facism.