#tw; long post
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( @aquaticsoul ) ->
🛠️ +
"Pikkuveli?"
"I know. They'll go to him if anything happens. I promise."
He remembers the conversation more often than he'd like to. He remembers her far clearer than he thinks he probably should given how much time has passed, but he also supposes it would be impossible to forget the other half of himself.
He still finds himself wishing that comfortable presence would settle at his right side again. He still finds himself distant, longingly looking for her missing half that had by chance and miracle formed distinctly next to his.
The last pieces of her take the shape of an earring and a necklace. And he knows what he needs to do with that earring, that bind, yet he hesitates to even disclose that he has it in his possession.
The right thing to do is the hard thing. The right thing to do is to give it to Pilvi, but the fact that it's one of two pieces left of her Mist makes it exceedingly difficult to part ways with.
Would she deliberate like this if it were him instead?
He ponders it as he finally puts the gem of blue and white back into its place on his ear. His eyes fall back to the necklace that he'd made for her, brilliant aqua hanging from a dark cord.
They did everything together for the longest time. They should both go to Pilvi together and surely that will make this process a bit easier. He tucks the necklace of aqua into the box where the earring of violet rests.
That looks much better.
The box snaps closed and slides back under his pillow. Cid enters before anyone else, likely to check on him for the thousandth time and ask once again if there's anything he can do.
Usually, Sielu always answers by shaking his head.
Not this time. He cuts straight to his point before the blond has time to even ask.
He'd been prepared for this possibility. He extends the paper he'd written on in the best Wonderlandian he could manage.
[ I am fine. Thank you. Could you get Kumo for me? Tell him it is important, before I make a coward of myself? ]
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ He had been on his way to check on his patient when he was met with straight answers. A note handed to him in messy handwriting and a request. A request for Kumo and he's sure somehow that it must be strange for them to call him as such, when he is coming to find quickly Kumo is not his name.
He was right this whole time when he heard Kaze call him Pilvi damn near a year ago. He was right this whole time but he didn't dare call him such a thing when Kumo hasn't given him permission to do so. He just needs to figure out when he's going to approach the subject.
There's a smile and a nod as indigo lifts to look at the Misterican of blue before him. He's finally working with him and he's finally speaking for himself - even if he still doesn't have the voice to do so.
"Oh, I don't know where he is exactly at the moment. Last I knew he was taking a bath, but I'll check to see if he's done for you."
The blond gives the - if this man was one of Kumo's teachers then he has to be older than him by quite a bit but he certainly doesn't look like he is - then again Kumo doesn't look very old either.... still he gives the older man a smile.
"I'll be back in a minute."
The engineer leaves to make his way towards the room that the swordsman has come to call his own and there a knock at the door before he cracks it open to see if he's sleeping perhaps. He seems to sleep so much nowadays and he still hasn't quite figured out why yet -
But he doesn't seem to be here? Perhaps he's still in the bath? He can always knock and just tell him to come when he's done. Sielu said it was important after all and he's not the one who needs to judge what a Misterican decides is important to another. So steps carry him down the halls but for some reason his stomach twists the further he goes.
Something suddenly just has his whole body feeling off and something in the air is tense and is that crying? The closer he gets the louder the sound becomes until he realizes it isn't crying it's Kumo crying. It has him taking off into a dead run until he finds himself in front of the door he was headed to anyway and he pushed the door open without invitation.
"Kumo I'm sorry to barge in you but are you o - "
Indigo fills with the sight of the half dressed man weeping into the arms of the smallest of the Amestrians but Kumo's back - Kumo's back was - what was all over Kumo's back? It looked like the scar -
"K- Kumo your back- What is - "
He can only stare in horror as his friend releases his hold on his other friend to push away from him and now he can see Kumo's chest as he comes to face him and it's ... the scars have spread out. His skin looks like ... like glass. Like he's shattering.
That's not possible.
People don't shatter.
Why does Kumo's skin look like glass? What is -
The shame that is plastered across the Misterican's face is hard to miss and it shatters his own heart upon seeing jade eyes look at him while filled with both so much shame and so much fear. Kumo looks terrified and suddenly the technician has forgotten all about the reason he came to get him in the first place.
"I'm sorry." The word sobs out as the swordsman just lets himself sink to set on the floor fully. "I'm sorry Cid. I was scared. I'll tell you everything. I love you. " He pauses to pull a breath between hurried words. "I love you. Please don't be mad. I love you so much. Please don't get mad at me. I was scared. I didn't want - to upset you but now I'm going to anyway. I'm sorry Cid. I swear I didn't mean any harm. I - "
"Kumo stop." The blond starts up again as he crosses the space between himself and his friend only to slowly come down to the floor and set in front of him. Gently does he take trembling hands into his own.
"I don't know what is going on, but we're going to get through this. We'll figure it out. You're not alone in this and I'm going to help you however I can, okay? But I need you to put your shirt on. Sielu is calling for you. He said it was important. We can talk later, alright? Will you come with me for him?"
There is a long intake of breath pulled up through a sniffling nose as a head of white nods. Bare hands wipe against his eyes in an attempt to clean himself up.
"Joo." He starts. "You can go and I'll be there in a minute. Just let me get dressed."
A soft smile first and the engineer moves to reach his arms forward for the first time in some time to wrap them around the weeping man in order to give him a quick embrace.
"I'll tell him you're on your way then."
And it doesn't take long to get back to the medical wing so that he can poke his head into the room where his patient waits. The blond is taking a seat for the moment giving him a smile.
"He was just getting out of the bath." He explains. "He said he'll be here once he's done getting dressed."
Reassurance and confirmation that he did the requested task and he wasn't just bullshitting the man but it makes him wonder how they will react to Kumo's back and chest. Do they know? Did he tell them? Knowing Kumo - probably not. He probably only told Kain.
There are footsteps a moment later as a body of white swings around the corner met with jade eyes still slightly pink from crying as pale lips stretch out into a false smile.
"You were calling for me, Opettaja?"
#ask || inquires of the technician#guest muse: cid#aquaticsoul#the conductor of my symphony || aquaticsoul#tw; death#tw; grieving#tw; injury#tw; illness#tw; depression#tw; panic#tw; long post
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Oh No, he's hot.
Fanfiction time with Soap! Yay! I'm writing SoRiku again! @bloodbondcd - not exactly a starter, it can be if you want! I just mainly wanted to post this cause I thought it was cute! Haha! <3
~ Sora~
What a weird thought.
Sora blinked at the words on the pages of the book. Seeing them, but not reading them. He was sitting in one of the tower common rooms, elbow on the arm of the couch, propping his head up, legs crossed, book held in his other hand. He'd been reading it, because it had seemed interesting; some theory about some ancient dark creatures that were rumoured to have at one point, plagued the worlds; The Faceless.
Then a thought slipped in between the words on the page, that had given the Keyblade Master pause. Giving his head a small shake, licking his lips and snuggling back further into the couch, Sora continued reading. Or, he tried to anyway, but the thought kept coming back.
Riku's hot.
Grimacing, Sora narrowed his eyes and stared at the book, determined to get through the damn sentence.
Like, actually though. Not like he's wearing too many clothes, but like hot, hot.
Eye twitching, he shifted on the couch, leaned forward and gripped the book with both hands, bringing it closer to his face, his eyes burning through the book.
Actually, he does wear too many clothes.
“Augh!” Making a sound of frustration, Sora threw himself back against the couch and slouching, pressed the book to his burning face as his mind supplied him with images of Riku naked. Which surprisingly, wasn't hard to do. He'd seen the man naked before. They'd been friends and comrades in arms long enough for that to have happened more than once.
So why did he look so damn attractive in his head!? He was his best friend for gods sake!
Not just in my head.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Sora grit his teeth and tried to think of anything else, but his brain just wouldn't drop the image of Riku, with his rippling muscles, toned legs, big arms and buff chest coming closer to him and---
Whoa!
Face burning, Sora pressed the book harder against his face and slunk down further on the couch. Biting his lip, he gave up all pretense of trying to read the book and let his brain look at that image again. The scene that was starting to play out in his mind.
Maybe Riku was hot.
Oh man, he totally is.
Sora sunk down a little further, hands tightly gripping the edges of the book. Riku coming closer. Riku taking him into his arms. Riku leaning down and lifting his chin...
Wow.
Wow was right.
Nothing like the realization you're attracted to your best friend while reading a book about blood thirsty cryptids.
Sora rolled his eyes.
It wasn't a realization. It was hardly the first time he'd had these thoughts about Riku. He'd been having them for a long time. He couldn't say for sure when they started. When they were kids? When they were figuring out how to save the Worlds instead of worrying about homework? Honestly, there'd just never been any time to really sit down and think about it.
Maybe it was when Riku became his Dream Eater that he started thinking about him that way.
The door opened suddenly and Sora shot straight up, face blazing and fumbling the book.
“I'm not thinking about, Riku!” He shouted, just to make sure the Broom knew he was actually thinking lewd thoughts about the man. He stared at the Broom and oddly enough, the Broom, unmoving, seemed to stare back. The silence stretched on for seconds, turning into minutes and then the Broom went about its cleaning and Sora huffed out a sigh of relief. Dropping his head to his chest and letting his hands (and the book) rest in his lap.
He was going crazy.
These thoughts kept cropping up lately. He always tried to shrug them off, or distract himself with something else, because who the hell thought about their best friend in that way? There was some cardinal rule against dating your number one, wasn't there?
Aqua and Terra are a thing.
Okay but, that was different.
Is it though?
They had history.
So, what do Riku and I have? Water under the bridge? A bag full of gummies, but no blueprints?
Sighing again, Sora looked up, one hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. He'd been having these thoughts for years. Even when they were on the island as kids. Riku was always good looking and powerful and back then, he'd just decided it was envy.
Then, when Riku went missing with King Mickey, he'd put everything he had into finding him, because he was his best friend, right? Then there was Kairi.
It hadn't worked out.
He'd broken her heart.
He just didn't feel about her, the way she wanted him to feel.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Sora looked towards the bookshelf, wondering if there was something on it that would explain what was happening to him right now. He knew there wasn't. The very idea that Master Yensid would have books on sexual attractions was laughable.
Maybe Romantic attractions too? No, not unpacking that one yet.
Standing up from the couch, Sora stepped over to the bookshelf and absently slid the book back into place, his eyes unfocused and looking at something beyond the room.
Riku was hot.
Sora did want him to hold him in his arms and touch him and... And kiss him.
And as his brain supplied images of what all could happen, he put his newly blushing face into his hand, eyes closed, his other hand dropping away from the book. Despite his embarrassment, he didn't try to banish the thought this time, instead letting it play out in his mind until it became too raunchy and he looked up with a sharp breath, hands twitching before him as he wondered what he was supposed to do with them.
“Oh man...”
Where even was Riku?
Unbidden, Sora moved away from the bookshelf, his mind stuck on that thought. Where was the man in question? The current object of his desires? Leaving the common room, he looked both ways down the hall and then headed for the stairs.
First, his feet took him to the kitchen, then the big dining hall, then Master Yensid's study - “Sorry sir! No, I don't need anything!”
But he did. He needed Riku's hands on him.
He quickly shut the door of the study, took a few breaths and then opened it back up.
“Um, have you seen, Riku?”
How many times, over his life had he asked that? How many times had he been chasing after him?
“Yes, he was just here. I believe he went to his room.”
“His room? Okay! Thanks!”
Bidding Master Yensid goodbye, Sora pulled the door gently shut and then made his way through the tower to the dormitory wing.
He remembered how much of a headache this place had first given him when he was trying to figure out how it worked. Now, he just knew where to go like it was second nature.
Reaching Riku's room, Sora stood in front of his door.
What am I doing?
He raised his hand to knock.
What do I want to happen here?
He let his hand drop and stared at the door, giving a soft sigh.
I want him to want me.
“Yeah right...” Sora muttered quietly and shifted to the side ready to leave when a noise sounded behind him. “I want Riku!” He announced loudly, which was totally not what he wanted to say. Spinning around, he stared at the Boom carrying buckets of water, hands clapped over his mouth.
The Broom, stared back and Sora wonder if it could douse him with one of the buckets while he drowned himself in the other.
Then Riku's door opened and Sora whipped around with a surprised look on his face.
#bloodbondcd#Riku || Sora#SoRiku#Muse: Sora#Sora: Master Verse#Sora is 18 in this verse#I just wanted to share because I giggled while writing it#haha#tw; long post#long post#fanfiction
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( @aquaticsoul ) ->
He feels awful for the jealousy that slowly seems to burn away at him from the inside. Some days are harder than others.
Some days it feels like it's searing him, impossible to ignore and not being something he can distract himself from.
Yet it's a selfish emotion. It's a bad thing to feel like he's being clawed into when he watches Cid and Kain talk to each other and turns around to find Aamun and Valo preoccupied with cuddling in a nest that has nothing to do with him.
It's not that he wants to be the only one someone ever focuses on. It's not even that he's jealous of attention specifically.
It's just that he wants to be like them. He wants to be normal. He wants to be a person, just like they are, but he can't seem to get it quite right.
With the threat of total abandonment mostly gone, his new fear is that they don't stay for the right reasons.
His new fear is that they look at him as if he's a freak or a burden or a chore.
He doesn't understand them anymore. He doesn't remember how to interact or make choices or be charismatic or even fly straight.
All of those take effort now. They take so much energy and it feels almost constantly as if no one will ever see that. He keeps his nightmares all to himself, he tries not to speak on his feelings, he tries to go to them every once in a while, and yet he still feels so vastly different than they are. He's still hurting - sometimes much worse than others - and he can't even really figure out how to talk about it.
He curls up around his dragon, hugging it close to hide his face in it so at least his crying will be quiet. They don't want to hear it. They don't want him when he's afraid. They don't want him when he feels like he's worthless and stupid and lost. They don't want him at all according to the things he keeps hearing from within the walls.
They want what he used to be like. He tries to give it to them. He does. He tries to do everything that the voices in the walls say about shutting up and getting rid of his feelings.
But sometimes, it's too hard. Sometimes, like now, he's wedged himself into a corner in the farthest, darkest room he could find with a blanket over him and the dragon in his arms because he can't keep it back anymore. He doesn't want them to find him.
He doesn't even know who they are. He just knows that they are cruel and that they terrify him. He doesn't want them to find him, and maybe in here they won't. Maybe in here, he can just fall apart and apologize later if the occupant comes back.
If only his sister were here.
⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ Somehow he's managed to get White Cloud alone so they can have a discussion in proper. He's pleased with this outcome, what he's not pleased about is the way the Cloud is looking down on him from his perch above his head. Did they really need to raise his bed this high off the ground? Is that uncomfortable?
Apparently finding the Cloud in his quarters was the only way they could talk in proper and they needed to talk... About a lot of things. So blue eyes continue to look up for once at light jade that is peering just over the railing of his bed with pale hands setting to each side of his head as he looks down at the burning sun that is growing more annoyed by the second.
"Come down here so we can talk."
"No." It's a swift response and the Cloud fails to move. "This is fine. Say whatever you need to say, I'm listening."
"I need to know what Tiamat's told you as of recent ... Or really at all."
"Lady Tiamat? What about her? She's been pretty quiet for the most part."
"She hasn't said anything since the other Misteric- "
"My Family."
"Since your family showed up?"
"Not that I'm aware of, why?"
"Because Bahamut has - "
"- has what?"
"- made comments about the blue bre- "
"Sielu. His name is Sielu."
"- about the Blue Brea-"
"- Sielu. Say it Black Wind. Use his name or the conversation is over."
"- about Sielu."
"Kiitos."
There's an exasperated groan as the elder shifts his weight from one side to the other as blue eyes only narrow further to glare.
"What has he said?" The Cloud comes to chime in again while he drags himself up a little further over the edge of the railing of his perch.
"Something about the Seven, and he said it about the green - the knight too."
"Revon. His name is Revon." But there is a pause as the younger sets up to place his hand on his chin as he thinks.
"Do you know anything about it? He wouldn't explain further than that. Has Tiamat said anything?"
The swordman is shaking his head as if to signal a no , holding his hands up in a shrug.
"Not a word. She's been .... busy. We had lower Gods in our religion though. Mist Dragons what were the children of Lady Tiamat. There were seven of them."
"I see."
There's a gruff huff of air released with the elder only shrugs for the moment before he turns on his heel to leave. Seven Misterican Gods - Eight in total and now there were ... five Mistericans here and the newcomers all were White Cloud's family.
His Vassals.
How many vassals did he have?
The Wind is returning to his own quarters, a room filled with the bare necessities compared to all of White Cloud's clutter. He didn't need trinkets to survive but he wasn't about to get in the prince's face about it when he knows what happens when the swordman's mood sours.
A gloved hand reaching to flick on the light only to see a pile of blankets curled in the corner filled with green horns, a plush dragon and blue hair. The kék lehelet. He can only stare at him for a long silent moment before he hears Bahamut stirring in the back of his mind to let out a low grumbled chuckle at his own expense. Blue eyes narrow on blue. Why choose this room of all rooms in this compound to take up refuge?
It doesn't make sense.
"What are you doing blue br - Sielu?"
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friendship vocabulary for aromantic spectrum awareness week in our traditional languages + ojibwe!
ft. Mi'kmawi'simk, Wolastoq, Michif, Abenaki, Wendat & Anishinaabemowin !!
nitap - my friend - mi'kmawi'simk
oqoti - friend, dear, an affectionate term between spouses - mi'kmawi'simk
witapal - friend, buddy, his/her male friend - mi'kmawi'simk
witape'skwal - his/her female friend - mi'kmawi'simk
witapji'jl - his/her little friend - mi'kmawi'simk
witapiyil - friend - wolastoq
widobai - friend, born a friend, eternal friend, true friend - abenaki
aen naamii / naasaasyii - friend, friend or partner - michif
-atenro', "onywatenro'" - to be friends, "we are all friends" - wendat
niijii(kiwenh) / ᓃᒌ(ᑭᐌᓐᐦ) - my male friend (spoken by a man) - anishinaabemowin
niijiikwe / ᓃᒌᑴ - my female friend (spoken by a woman) - anishinaabemowin
ninjiwaam / ᓂᓐᒋᐙᒻ - my friend (gender neutral) - anishinaabemowin
#arcana.txt#native.txt#anishinaabemowin.txt#mi'kmawi'simk.txt#abenaki.txt#michif.txt#wendat.txt#tw; long post#** rpc; resources.#AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY#bnistudies#asaw#asaw 2024#aromantic spectrum awareness week#aromantic awareness week#aromantic#aro#studyblr#native academia#also neechie means friend !! its native slang but it comes from the cree word nicimos !!
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You and Your friends aren’t Academic Sources.
If any aspect of your information on RAMCOA comes from first person experiences, You Have to Openly State That Specifically.
Your experience and story is appreciated when it is ASKED FOR. Inherently you & your trauma are accepted and are welcomed for the truth that it is.
However, your Truth is Not Helpful when its falsely labeled as “Academics report–” when it should be “Ive experienced–”.
Survivors Need & Want RELIABLE information to read with THEIR EYES before anything else. We want Professionals who will disclose their methods, funding and research. We need Names & Faces to hold accountable both professionally and legally; so information is sourced safely AND without bias- because of the extreme lengths many abusers will use to hide their crimes.
People WILL Fact Check your information, and realize you labelled your info FALSELY as an Academic Resource- and ultimately you WILL BE demanded to explain how you failed to use critical thinking & you WILL BE held accountable for the consequences.
You are responsible for disclosing your sources when you are sharing MEDICAL ADVICE.
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{ I noticed that lots of people tend to forget that Dickson is a mentally unstable individual who will do anything that he deems necessary to get what he wants all because he speaks to their muses and such with nothing but smiles and compliments.
Dickson is NOT a kind or compassionate person, nor does he care about those that he isn't actively pursuing for the sake of genuine friendship or genuine obsession (love in his eyes). Being kind and compassionate is nothing but another mask that he wears from his various collection when he deems it necessary. As an experiment, along with his condition that makes him unable to properly form and convey emotions (which was only worsened by the experimentation he underwent), Dickson is almost 100% incapable of feeling genuine emotions that belong to him and him alone. He has a habit of using the things he's learned from others by watching them when he's trying to portray his own "feelings" towards others and that's the main issue. Those feelings aren't his ACTUAL feelings, they're someone else's, how someone else he observed for years would react.
If someone were to somehow have the ability to strip him of his masks (his "emotions" and "feelings" if you would call them that), they would find nothing but an empty and broken shell of a person who doesn't know how to do anything but obey someone's orders or someone who completely disregards himself (as in his own well-being) when it comes to endlessly toiling away at his own experiments — and despite his experiments revolving around people who have been fucked over by life, making his own attempts to somehow benefit them — his motivation for said deed was not 100% done out of his own desire to do so, but done because (once he was finally able to recall more about his parents from his childhood) he remembered how the both of them desired to use their skills for good and to help those who cannot help themselves. Thus he applied his parents' feelings to himself and uses that core fundamental as the basis of his entire existence (after his grandfather is finally dead and he doesn't have an actual purpose anymore).
Another reason why Dickson shouldn't be underestimated (and simply chalked up to be the sweet, handsome gentleman) is because of the fact he isn't afraid to use and abuse people for his own gain. He will hurt people. He will manipulate people. He will blackmail them and torture them just like he was. And above all else, he WILL kill people. Dickson is not afraid of getting his hands dirty nor is he afraid to take people hostage and brainwash them to do his bidding if he finds it too much of a hassle for himself (or simply because he won't get caught this way if others are watching him). Before Dickson was able to take care of himself and do things for himself, his grandfather had him work as an assassin of sorts (or rather a mercenary if that's what you prefer to call it), granted he wasn't great at it in the beginning because he was very clumsy and wasn't quite sure of what he was doing, but in the end, he still killed people and usually in various creative and cruel ways too if the opportunity to do so provided itself. Additionally, Dickson will also go to any lengths he deems necessary to make sure his target doesn't come out alive, such as the time he chopped off his own hand in order to free himself so he could proceed to kill his client's target.
Sure Dickson may have been more hesitant to do terrible things when he was younger, like when his late fiancée, Janus, wanted him to help her murder various people simply because she felt like it and he didn't want to participate, but that's Dickson was a lot more weak-willed and timid during his childhood. Back then, he didn't have almost any drive to do anything because he wasn't conditioned to be subservient yet. Granted he still would listen to his grandfather's orders without question, but Janus hadn't fully established that kind of FULL control over him since he'd only known her for a few years, thus that lack of control over him is what ended up leading him to kill Janus when she finally got fed up with him enough to begin beating him (that day anyway, considering she was always abusive towards him). That fear he possessed from his childhood years (something I've already established in posts before) had changed into anger (another thing I've already established in past posts) before he finally ended up snapping all together and stabbing Janus to death, regretting what he had done for only a few moments until that dissipated as well because he simply couldn't bring himself to care. The fact that he stored her body in a freezer within the basement of the Simmons Estate only serves as a reminder of how he started in his mind.
One of the biggest reasons why people should remember that Dickson isn't just a pretty face is the HUGE fact that he basically has his own servant (more like mind slave) that both he and Janus shared together when she was still alive, that he ACTIVELY participated in breaking on the days he had suffered himself (granted he was made to believe it was alright by Janus, but that's besides the point). This point here is a perfect way to represent just how broken and unstable Dickson is as well because normally Dickson was the one who tried to keep Janus from tormenting Belphegor (the name Janus decided to give the boy despite him already having a name) and was often the one trying to tend to whatever wounds Janus had created, be them physical or mental ones (though Dickson was only good at mending physical wounds). In Belphegor's mind, Dickson was going to become his savior at some point due to the fact he showed more compassion towards him than Janus did, but this sentiment ended up proving false the day Dickson murdered Janus. Dickson's once gentle and caring demeanor towards Belphegor ended up changing into something more deranged and it only proceeded to get worse once Carla died as well — gentle gestures of affection soon became more aggressive and agitated, once soothing and comforting words became accusatory and possessive, promises of better treatment and freedom became guilt-tripping and manipulation — eventually leading for Belphegor's mental state to be completely broken down to the point he became a puppet for whatever Dickson desired.
Now, you're probably thinking "but hey, doesn't this contradict everything you've posted about Dickson before? You know, the stuff about him not wanting to be like his grandfather and such?" And in a sense, yes, I did contradict myself, but at the same time... I didn't. Why? Because Dickson didn't want to become like his grandfather or Janus or any of the people who tormented him for the entirety of his life, but when you are basically a prisoner within your own home and are subjected to abuse for so long, you generally end up developing Stockholm Syndrome and that's basically what happened to Dickson. The abuse and torment are what lead up to Dickson basically becoming his grandfather and Janus, but he only realizes this once he joins the BSAA and meets Chris and his team. Why does he realize this? Well, that's because of the simple fact that they all treat him like an ally and not a tool. They slowly begin to make him realize that he isn't just an object for someone's desires nor is he just a toy that will be endlessly used until it's broken and tossed away. They made him feel something that he's never felt before: human. They made him feel like he was an ACTUAL human being and not a monster, that he wasn't some kind of murderous and heartless creature, but instead was their close friend and even a part of their little family, which is something that Dickson has always wanted so desperately deep down inside of his very being. Not his grandfather. Not Janus. Not his mother or father. Not Carla. Dickson. Something that HE wanted. One of the very first and only things he's ever wanted in his life. Granted he still wears his various masks around them, but that's because he doesn't know how to stop nor does he want them to know just how inhuman he really is.
^^^ And this whole above paragraph really does help to show just how broken Dickson is and how even just a little bit of love and care towards him can make him into a completely different person, especially if we jump back to this line here in the first paragraph: "Dickson is NOT a kind or compassionate person, nor does he care about those that he isn't actively pursuing for the sake of genuine friendship or genuine obsession (love in his eyes)." The only reason he cares so much about Chris and his team is because of the simple fact they tried to develop genuine friendships with him to the point he had become obsessively in love with each and every one of them (some in platonic ways: Chris, Philis, Finn, Jill, Steve, and some in romantic ways: Victoria and Piers).
But back to the topic of the mind slave, due to the fact that Dickson had finally come into contact with people who... understood him in a sense for lack of a better word... he began to think that he could actually be something other than a tool and because of that, he also believed that maybe Belphegor could be more than a tool as well. Of course, due to being completely broken by Dickson, there wasn't much that could be done for him in the ways of... fixing him so in the end, Dickson simply continues to use Belphegor for whatever he deems necessary but instead of treating him as badly as he had before, he now somewhat treats him as he used to (though he can still be rather harsh when he isn't in the greatest of moods).
So with all that being said, I advise you all (especially those of you with muses that are seeking out romantic affairs with Dickson) to proceed with the utmost caution when doing so because there may come a point where Dickson doesn't care about your muse anymore and simply chooses to discard them (minus Crystal of course because that's his wifey). }
#☣ [ ' Eʋҽɾყσɳҽ Lσʋҽʂ A Vιʅʅαιɳ. ' ] - ✡ Dιƈƙʂσɳ Gҽɾαʅԃ Rҽɠιɳαʅԃ Sιɱɱσɳʂ ✡#☣ [ ' Hαυɳƚҽԃ Ⴆყ ƚԋҽ ɯσɾԃʂ ყσυ ʅҽϝƚ υɳʂαιԃ. ' ] - ✡ Hҽαԃƈαɳσɳʂ ✡#tw; long post#tw; murder mentions#tw; abuse mentions#tw; obsession mentions#tw; experimentation mentions#tw; mental illness mentions#{ Jesus christ this got long as all hell. }#{ I only meant to write a few small paragraphs not a whole damn essay. }#{ But I had to go into detail about this issue because I've been getting a lot more people trying to woo Dickson. }#{ But none of them fully know or understand how dangerous his character actually is. }#{ This is also a nice post to have to remind people that do ship with him too though so huzzah! }#{ Feel free to read through this if you'd like. }#{ I'm dipping out for now. }
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Xiao and his Siblings
Not all the times he had with his siblings were spent fighting. There were times they just were themselves and hung out around the various spots of Liyue together. Enjoying each other’s company and being able to relax. It was during these times that Xiao smiled and laughed the most because he had others like himself surrounding him. He adored these times and always was seen with one of his older yaksha siblings. Never being out of one of their presences.
During such times the five would often venture together as a group to other nations to visit the lands where their elemental resonation was strongest. It was during this time Xiao's older brother Menogias would observe the surrounding areas as well as colors. It was these outings that each of the yaksha's outfits were created for each and every one of them by his hands.
When the older four passed Xiao was devastated to lose the family, he had been a part of. Opting to take a piece of each other’s weapons and having it remade into a bead that now sits on his Yingluo (necklace). He never forgets their birthdays. Always paying his respects to them with a flower that represented each of them and sitting a while remembering them.
The flowers are as followed:
Bosacius : Naku Weed from Inazuma.
Indarias: Flaming Flower (once he dumps water on it to pick it)
Bonanus: Lakelight Lily from Fontaine
Menogias: Silk Flower
Xiao will travel to the other two nations of Fontaine and Inazuma to bring these flowers personally to each of those spots. Picking each of the flowers brings back a memory of each of his older siblings.
Picking Silk Flowers personally with Menogias and listened to his long tangents on how they needed to be processed correctly to make the finest silks. Which were woven and made into his clothing he still wears to this day. He taught him how to sew so he could repair his clothes should they ever be damaged.
The Flame Flowers are found all over Teyvat but they help Xiao remember his sister Indarias and her love for anything spicy. While he was not used to eating food, he would sample hers when she found the need to experiment with new ingredients. It does not mean all her new attempts were successful. It is because of her he knows how to cook his own meals.
The Naku Weed, which only grows in the strangest of conditions, always reminded him of his eldest brother Bosacius. No matter whatever happened the leader of their group was always able to buckle down and fight. He wasn't afraid. During downtimes he would spar with Xiao. His great strength and power were always something he could never overcome but it pushed Xiao to want to be stronger each time he failed. Always taking in stride and perking up when he was praised for his forms that the youngest of the adeptus would come up with to try and trounce him in battle. It is because of this Xiao never misses a day of training. To become stronger and a better protector of the modern day Liyue.
The Lakelight Lily always brings the fondest of memories of the water. Bonanus was always the most elegant in the water. With her ability to manipulate the hydro element and being a graceful swimmer. She taught Xiao how to swim and also all about the ecosystems of the waters. Teaching him from sea life to plants and minerals often found in the waters. It was with her he first saw a Leisurely Otter in the water depths and became completely enamored with them. His first time in the waters of Fontaine he still owns the shell he was given from one of these otters. Each time he goes back he has seen the development of the nation. Taking notes on how to go around the populate areas of Fontaine to reach the lake in which the lily's grow. He often finds himself returning to the waters to see the otters when he is there before departing and returning to Liyue.
Xiao never forgets his siblings. The days of laughter and smiling are much over for him. Choosing to remain by himself so he does not only harm people from the effects of his karmic debt but also so he does not grow close to another again. He does not wish to have the same broken heart he has to carry from the great loss his siblings left behind. He loved them very dearly and chooses in his own way how to remember them.
#kcrmicdebt#✧˖°. ◤THIS IS MY BURDEN TO CARRY: Musing◥#✧˖°. ◤IT WILL BE UP TO ME: Headcanon◥#tw; long post#hoyo refused to give us what the siblings were like#so i did the work myself#i placed it under a read more seeing it got a little lengthy but please enjoy :)
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RAPHAEL, BIPOLAR, & AUTISM // @thishouseofhope
Alright, so I have already touched on the matter of Raphael and bipolar here, here, here, and here .
But, basically, he is very all or nothing, Extreme High or Extreme Low, very functional or completely despondent. He'll either almost never sleep or not want to get up out of bed.
His highs can be almost euphoric and his lows are usually catastrophic. Granted, he doesn't hit the lows quite as often as riding the high, but when it does happen OOF.
WITH MANIC UPSWINGS, HE HAS TWO MODES
Mode One of Manic: This is his standard mode, honestly. This is where he lives and usually thrives. He is highly productive and highly functional. He sleeps very little. He is kept running by manic energy, wine, drama, and deal-making. His schedule will be packed full. His entire focus will be upon whatever the current facet of his overarching plan is.
Mode Two of Manic: This one is usually kicked off by something that upset him or derailed his plans. He is erratic, moody, unstable, quick to anger, sometimes impulsive, occasionally self-destructive and destructive of things like rooms in the House.
He is not easily soothed when in this state..
Everything is wrong wrong wrong and it will never be right and he'll never be good enough and there's nothing he can do to fix this— which will be expressed, when manic, in the form of rage fits. He does not often throw prolonged tantrums—the ten year one with Mephistopheles was rare—but sometimes he simply loses his carefully-crafted performances and his very intentionally maintained control.
Usually what will help—at least when he's in meltdown [ and the these do tend to at least kick off at night or the early hours of the morning, if it wasn't something immediate that set it off ]—is just being the voice to combat all the negative thinking while he can't.
This is also when you will catch him loudly playing the pipe organ at all ours with absolutely zero regard for anyone else trying to sleep.
Into a bit of NSFW headcanons here but:
It's also in the self-destructive state that he sometimes actively seeks sex, also one of the few times he doms. Honestly, probably also tells Haarlep to change into literally anything besides him. He doesn't want to see himself.
[ As another aside, Haarlep might not even think anything of it honestly, because, well, there's a difference between when Raphael is fine and when he isn't, and that's enough to explain the usual lack of participation versus these times, if he doesn't puzzle over it more deeply and notice the pattern that Raphael is usually more engaged when Haarlep is in any other form. ]
Being dominant during these times then is usually about regaining a sense of control, usually more than a bit frantic, almost feverish. But it's also one of the easiest/best times to actually calm him--unfortunate for most that this is only useful to Haarlep. Just say sweet nothings and praises. Remind him that he's not a failure, that he's not lesser. Again just combat all the negative voices that are whirling around in his head like a hurricane. Remind him of what he's accomplished so far; what he'll accomplish still.
Back to the main point, however.
When he is on a low, it is, equally catastrophic, though it is, as mentioned at the start, exceedingly more rare and usually has to be kicked off by something, much like Mode Two of Manic.
He struggles to get out of bed, preferring to sleep or to simply lie in bed, listless and despondent. Again, everything is wrong wrong wrong and it will never be right and he'll never be good enough and there's nothing he can do to fix this---so why should he even bother? He will eat very little. Speak even less. Appointments are postponed.
The Lows take a great deal of care--almost always from Haarlep--to get him moving and functional again. Sometimes it's a bit of coaxing. Sometimes it's, again, encouragement. Sometimes it's just showing him love and support when he hates pretty much everything about himself and his situation. [ Do not even ask me how messed up over I got over this post about the earth and the moon because it made me think of these two. ]
It is not a good time for anyone and Raphael is never doing well when it happens.
NOW, ONTO THE MATTER OF AUTISM:
While Raphael has a brilliant understanding of what makes people tick, what they want, how to get what he wants... I suspect this is not due to any ability of his to read such things, but rather more an ability to peer into minds, which I believe is mentioned or at least hinted at during time at the House in the game [ I have not done it yet, but I think I remember seeing a video or a post ].
He also has a brilliant persona that he puts on that makes a great show of being a people person, but he does often misread body language and social cues.
He has, however, made it so that all of his own body language and facial expressions are very over the top and easily read for what they are--which is partially what he taught himself at the same time he was trying to learn the above.
His ideas of humor are usually very high brow or very specific to himself, and often misses or remains unamused by other people's attempts at humor. He entirely misses most attempts at sarcasm.
"How long were you practicing that one?" [ sarcastic ]
"Until it was perfect." [ sincere ]
Raphael is absolutely obsessive about his interests, namely: gaining the Crown, destroying his father, and ruling the Nine. [ Also about poetry and the arts, but he tries to play it off as more of a side hobby after he learned from years of torment and belittling that it was Unacceptable. Those were just the rules. ]
His conversations often revolve around himself, his interests, his goals, whatever he's gotten caught up in at the time. On this topic, he memorizes information of interest--up to and including entire tomes of poetry and entire symphonies of music.
Also within this same vein, as I have mentioned in other posts, Raphael has a hard time connecting with others. He usually either has to have a point of common interest or must be able to see something of himself in the other person.
In regards to some of the most important people in his life: with his First Love, there was a common interest in the Arts as well as a certain similarity in both of them being very trapped within their respective roles/expectations by other people but wanting desperately to leave those things behind for something else, for what was truer to themselves.
Where Enver is concerned [ and in this case, I will speak specifically to the verse I have with @banefulbenevolence where Enver actually sticks around until his teenage rebellion years, there was also a similarity of situation. A boy too bright for his own good. Parents who were disparaging to perhaps abusive, depending on writer viewpoints. As well as--at least in the case of the people I've seen thus far--Enver also being quite likely autistic.
[ There are quite a few other similarities that, at least with Bro's Enver, tend to play out quite amusingly, but those are just to name a few. I also still have to complete that post soon, about the parallels more specifically. There is a reason I have their tag as ' #|| LIKE FATHER ; LIKE SON || { BANEFULBENEVOLENCE // ENVER } ' ]
He has a very particular way of speaking. While it is quite melodic and even hypnotizing, it is certainly not the standard way that someone would speak--largely because he very much picked it up his manner of speech due to his love of poetry. He basically became a personification of poetry.
He is--even in his manic and depressed states--a creature of habit and order. What's more, he has a tendency to form plans--sometimes highly intricate ones as per the whole Sharran and mason situation--and stick to them quite closely.
When his routines or his plans/expectations are disrupted it upsets him beyond measure, beyond explanation. This is specifically pointed out in the House of Hope, when he specifically states that the player has brought CHAOS into his home and he will not abide it. [ He is SEETHING. You entered into his home without invitation. You have slept with his partner. Stolen from him. And then, some player characters have the nerve to taunt him. ]
During this moment--and the one if you refused his deal and then set yourself up for failure when he confronts you and demands you sign a contract to get this help--are some of the only times that you see him truly angry.
[ Though, you an also see him get agitated if you keep pressing him for answers at the Mausoleum and succeeding on your checks. ]
This is, of course, not a fully detailed breakdown of either facet of who he is, but more of an overview summary. I might make more detailed posts at some point, but here is a starting point.
#|| a little outside perspective || { headcanons // thoughts // thesis papers }#|| ' what's better than a devil you don't know ? a devil you do . ' || { about // raphael }#|| ' this is very naughty ! what ever are we to do ! ' || { about // haarlep }#|| ' raphael loves only himself . ' || { raphael & haarlep }#|| two halves of heart and soul || { raphael & ███ }#|| like father ; like son || { banefulbenevolence // enver }#|| out of charm || { ooc }#tw; long post
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Hello world! I've been in a huge adventure, a lot of things had happened, I got a job related to my literature degree and I've been also giving some interviews. I can say I'm a happier person now. thehe!
I finally can save money for my teeth and attend my teeth aches and so on. Working from 7:30am to 6:30 pm wasn't in my plans but, I'm glad I'm being paid for the job I do instead just giving my job for free.
I'll try to go back to RP because I feel so inspired:
The X-men animation has returned and I feel so glad that one of my inspirations for my Swain is being animated. The redemption of a strong character like Magneto. I've seen a lot of parallelisms between my Swain and Magneto and omg I'm so happy!
Yup, im watching every chapter and alksdjfls well I don't want to talk about sad things hahaha
#out of character#tw; long post#I can't believe I have now 340 students#I'm so tired but I feel so happy
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friendly reminder that tumblr savior and other blacklisting extensions exist. also the block button exists. its a shame that the dashboard is in an upstart tonight over something really stupid.
You know what it boils down to? CONSENT.
Here’s the thing my guys-- YOU DO NOT HAVE TO MAKE AN EXCUSE FOR A SINGLE THING YOU WRITE. JUST TAG YOUR SHIT ACCORDINGLY.
This gives everyone else the chance to give informed consent as to whether or not they want to read the shit you write. Because again that’s what all this drama boils down to: CONSENT.
And here’s the thing about fictional characters my loves. THEY CANNOT GIVE CONSENT BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT REAL.
YOU THE READER ARE REAL. YOU HOLD ALL THE CONSENT TO READ OR NOT TO READ. IF YOU DO NOT CONSENT THEN DON’T READ IT AND MOVE THE FUCK ON. the block button is there for a reason. Blacklisting tools to block those tags exist for a reason.
the whole purity thing and policing what people should and should not write is pretty 2008 and no one likes a pearl clutcher. This pearl clutching and purity policing really comes down to readers denying or disguising (and sometimes even both) their own agency and consent to promote their own agenda.
“writing smut or sex with underage characters and aging them up is wrong because they can’t give consent” THEY CAN’T GIVE CONSENT BECAUSE THEY AREN’T REAL. THEY ARE FICTIONAL. Even if they are 18+ ( a consenting adult across the US federal law) THEY CANNOT CONSENT BECAUSE THEY ARE FICTIONAL. they do not exist. They are not real.
an ant’s left butt cheek can give more consent than a fictional character because IT EXISTS.
the ongoing argument that stemmed tonight’s drama isn’t about defending the rights and consent of the fictional characters mentioned, its about “ this sort of writing shouldn’t be allowed”.
And this argument is shit. Take away the camouflage and the coverup and the victim blaming and what you really have is a real living person behind a computer screen saying “ I do not consent to this and i am not comfortable with my own personal agency”.
a person who has the critical and comprehensive thinking skills can look at writing or an rp blog and say “ huh, this is something that i do not consent to. This makes me uncomfortable. this doesn’t seem like my kind of thing” and can just keep on scrolling.
A person who is not comfortable or confident with their own personal agency goes through this in-depth thought process in response to what they have read:
-I do not consent to read this.
- I do not feel that I am in a safe enough space to withhold my consent.
- i feel unsafe.
- i need to be protected.
- i can’t make it about my feelings, because i am not allowed to.
- a sense of displacement takes place --> Others need to be protected.
--This should not be allowed.
Take for example, someone walking into a movie theater and saying “ i don’t like horror movies.” and walks into a showing of a horror movie and says “ This is so harmful to viewers why are they showing this!”
There’s a rating system for a reason. You don’t have to go into that movie. Just keep walking.
Lastly my guys... PEOPLE ARE INTO WEIRD SHIT. In real life, with real people, consent is a super huge deal. and guess what, that’s why people have active and open conversations about consent, boundaries, empathy, and an understanding towards power differentials. Its in the news. its in school. We are in an era where these kinds of conversations are socially expectable. Pearl clutching recedes this.
In fiction you can do whatever the hell you want. Some people actually like how it makes them feel because it is not real. it can be experienced within the safety of fiction.
going back to the horror movie analogy who am i to tell Stephen King to not write horror because it could make me uncomfortable? Lots of people like it. He’s won awards for is writing.
and people still pearl clutch saying things about weird fiction in general like “ but it will normalize rape and pedophilia!! people will think its okay!”
do you think seeing a sewer clown murdering children is going to make a fan go out and do that? unless there’s some severe mental health issue, i think not.
Now for the pearl clutcher who decided to start all this shit...
YOU’RE CONSENT DOES MATTER. YOU ARE ALLOW TO NOT LIKE WHAT PEOPLE WRITE. JUST DON’T MAKE IT ABOUT SOME GRAND MORAL JUSTICE OF THE UNIVERSE. YOU CAN SAY “ UM YEAH NO THANKS NOT FOR ME” AND KEEP ON SCROLLING. Worry about your own shit my guy.
That’s why Rpers stress to tag their shit. and I can say hands down that the things you clutch your pearls about were 100% tagged. just keep moving. use tumblr savior. use that block button.
but don’t start shit. it ain’t fun. it ain’t nice. There’s that one quote by oscar wilde “ give a man a mask and he’ll show you his true self.” the internet is one hell of a mask and you are exposing yourself.
and I’m gonna scroll on by. i do not consent to participating any further in your mess. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.
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@drinkitfrommymouthsuou || [ X ]
⋆˚☽𖤓｡⋆ His Brother had practically begged him to stay in bed today but that bastard Mustang called him anyway and he hadn't thrown up yet so off he went to Central Command to get his ears screamed off for God knew what. Yanno what, no - for Fuck knows what. Fuck that prick and fuck this weather.
The rain is pouring down in torrents and there is little that either Elric can do to avoid it. Red fabric is well since soaked through, right along with long blond strands sticking to a pale face as the pair of them make their way through Central's streets so they can find some kind of sanctuary from this fucking storm. His head is spinning and his stomach feels like it's in ocean waves - not that he's ever seen the ocean being in this piece-a-shit land locked country.
Fuck he'd be lucky if he saw a lake larger than the one that kept Yock Island at its center.
His head is jerking to the side however at the sound of hurried footsteps and yelling. The sound of puddles splashing as shoes strike against the ground with urgency and the pair of teenagers can only watch for a moment as the scene unfurls before them.
"Brother - " Come a metallic echo as if to bring the elder's attention the scene with a drawn out voice but the smaller of the pair is already running.
They wouldn't get away. He didn't know what was going on but that poor shmuck looked like he was already in the water over his head and what kind of man would he be if Amestris' very own Hero of the People just stood by and watched?
'sides Mustang pissed him off and if these idiots took a few bruises so he could relieve this bad mood then so be it. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes and these clowns looked like they were about to graduate from Central Dunce Academy.
The sound of clanking armor soon follows after the blond as the pair of the them race through the streets until they find themselves at the end of a back alley and there is a kid on the ground.
Dumb fucker obviously didn't know where he was running if he lead them right to a dead end. Gold eyes take a moment to scan over the scene before he sounds.
"Oi, dipshit! Pickin' kids half yer fuckin' age ain't a good look, jackass!"
The words fall out of him like venom as his gaze narrows down to become that of molten gold. He's burning red hot as his stance firms while the men in question turn to face him.
There is a smirk on one face and then another as they look him over. A teenager and a suit of armor standing behind him - the boy no taller than five foot two with arms at his sides and shoulders that hardly look like he's ready for a fight.
"Get outta 'ere squirt." The first man sounds, only earning a low growl in return from the boy in red. "You ain't got no fuckin' business here. So why don'tcha just scram before ya end up like pretty boy here."
Oh that's just wonderful. Ha ha as if he hasn't heard that before and while he might be inclined to hold his anger a bit better on most days - today was not that day. No today he was anger. Today he was in pain. Today his head was screaming and the ports on his body felt like they were on fire. No, today Mustang crossed a fuckin' line and he was furious at that prick for being forced to set through an hour long meeting that felt like precious time wasted from his life he'll never get back.
No, today he was pissed.
And now this piece'a'shit jackass has just become the next target on Edward Elric's anger management course.
Hands come together without warning as blue lights spark and fly through the air; the teen's right hand placed against the alleyway wall to summon forth a giant fist born of the bricks of the building next to the other teen's assailants sending two of them crashing into the opposite wall and tumbling to the ground.
"Fuck!" One of the remaining men hisses. "Little Fucker's an alchemist. Oh so you think you're tough shit then, huh?"
The beaten teen is dropped to the ground as the man with the knife charges only to for the smaller boy to smoothly dodge out of the way and drill his right fist directly into his attacker's jaw sending both teeth and blood scattering to the ground. The man can only scream in pain as he drops, hand coming up to cover his bleeding mouth as he struggles to stand and make a hurried exit from the scene. Two men down, the others have fled - finally the pair of brothers could make their way to the blond laying on the ground.
"It looks like he passed out, Ed." The younger of the pair comments with a metallic twag echoing in an almost hollow sounding voice.
Golden eyes, still narrowed, are looking down at the body on the ground with a deep frown stitched into his brows.
"No shit, Al. What gave ya yer first fuckin' clue? Fuck. We c'n't jus' leav'im 'ere though. Who knows how long this stupid sonnavabitch is gunna b' out fer? We probably should git'im outta the rain."
"So you wanna take him with us?"
"What fuckin' choice do we have? That 'er leave'im 'ere ta rot. Oh yeah 'coz the M.P.s 're gunna do their fuckin' jobs first once. They'd probably arrest the poor fucker fer layin' in the damn street."
"So I take it you wanna go back to the hotel."
"Ah yes 'coz we have somewhere else ta fuckin' go. A'course I do steel fer brains, use yer damn head." The blond snarls sarcastically as he rolls his eyes hard as if to emphasize his point.
"You don't gotta be such a jerk, Ed. I know the storm is kickin' your ass but don't take it out on me." The armored comments with a half snap while he works to gather the collapsed teenager from the street.
There is a groan in reply and a sorry but the rest of the walk back to the hotel is largely quiet. Small hands working to get the three of them inside so Alphonse can lay the sleeping body in his arms down on the couch in the main room of the suite they're occupying.
Gold eyes are on him again.
"So now what?" Comes the echoing twang of the younger once more.
"I don't fuckin' know." The elder replies with arms crossed uneasily over his chest. "I feel like shit Al. You know I hate storms. I guess we jus' wait fer the poor fucker ta wake up."
#drinkitfrommymouthsuou#v; meeting in the rain#guest muse: alphonse#tw; long post#tw; excessive swearing#tw; fighting#tw; violence
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⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ There had been screaming in the hall only a few hours ago, one prince leaving the scene flustered while the other left with a bloody nose. It had taken multiple binds on both sides of the equation to separate them and he didn't understand why the minute red started to pour from a pale nose, that his Liege seemed to be like a Windarian dog locked in for the kill.
Even Safiirin struggled to get the boy to cease. He hadn't heard the conversation that started the fight but he had heard his Liege scream after the younger had shouted at him "Usva, just leave me alone!"
By the time he got there, they had already come to blows and he barely had enough time to process and barely enough strength to help Safiirin hold him back. It took everything to get him off of his brother and after much fussing and a large amount of blue mist, the boy finally slowed enough for his binds to rip him away from his intended target. Away from his brother.
He watched as Pilvi was whisked away by Kukka and Sydän with Sielu following close behind and the only thing he could do was talk to his own liege to find out just what happened to cause him to attack his brother like he did. They'd always fought. The boys have always fought for as long as he's known them and that's their entire lives.
Benefits of growing up in the palace he assumes but he almost doesn't know if it was a benefit at this point to be so close to the situation. Usva had been relentless today and there is a small voice in the back of his head that wonders if no one had been there if he would have killed his brother in the process and that same small voice wonders if he would have felt anything for it when he did.
Pilvi too, was different today. Instead of backing down and doing whatever it took to simply defend himself and get away from his brother - he watched the white prince fight. Even as his hair was pulled and he look a fist to the face. He watched as teeth grit and white mist seeped out in warning. He watched as the younger prince for the first time in many years fought back and he watched as even through the tears running down his face - jade eyes turned pure white.
Revon had forced his body between the two them at that point and he heard the boy wordlessly screaming as he was carried down the hall. He heard the screaming corroding into sobs and declarations of "It hurts!" to his own binds as he was surely taken to Palo's office. They would tend to the younger. He was not his Liege, - instead he would tend to his own and Usva wasn't giving him a word.
Nothing more than "He deserved it" and "Pilvi had it coming." There was no remorse where they should have been. Where in previous years there would have been. Safiirin and Syksy took him to explain it all to his father instead and hopefully Aurinko would be able to get more out of the elder Eclispe prince than they could.
So now the symphony is slipping through the halls with his hair still a bit askew and some small bruises blossoming on his lower jaw. There is a fright existing in deep orange that usually isn't present as he knocks once, then twice and then a third time in a rhythm only he had before he turned the knob to let himself slip inside the other musician's room.
Sielu is perched at his desk with an angry look on his face and even angrier scratching filling out paper work. Grading papers if he had to take a guess.
"Sorry to intrude." He begins. "I just wanted to check in and ask - is Pilvi okay?"
#v; the child of white || before the fall#v; citrine and aqua#guest muse: opettaja sinfonia#aquaticsoul#tw; blood#tw; fighting#tw; injury#tw; death#tw; long post
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@timewept sent:❝ i was lost without you. i was lonely. ❞ (douxie)
[❇]—;
It was never his intention to hurt them. Not ever. But here he was before them once again and all he could feel was what he had before all of this happened. Seeing them again. He couldn't help but reach out and hold them. Cradle them as he had once before all those years ago. Douxie had cried in his arms for hours. He too had shed more tears than he had known for a while. Things were so different from back then. They were different. But in a good way.
But himself? Untouched, unchanged by time itself.
He couldn't begin to fathom the countless years Douxie had been on their own. What they had gone through without him. He had promised to always be there and he broke that promise to them. And it stung him worse than a sword driven into his chest. "Hisirdoux..." His voice was so low he could hardly believe that it was his voice that had come from him. He had no words really to help comfort them. He didn't even know what had happened. He just remembered falling asleep and then suddenly there were strange buildings and unfamiliar faces besides that of Vendel. Who had gotten so old since the last he saw him. Outside of him, Toothless was the only thing he knew. The language of the three who freed him from the spell to begin with were strange. Unfamiliar to even he.
"I...I-I...'m so sorry..." He begins but feels a finger press against his lips. Looking down to the other curiously as he feels their weight shift. Allowing him to see eye to eye with them. Oh gods there wasn't a day he couldn't get lost in those gorgeous golden eyes of theirs. He couldn't help but stare unabashedly into theirs. He still was cast under that spell of mapping out every detail of those eyes of theirs. The outer ring of their eyes such a beautiful gold as they were speckled with blues, greens and browns towards their pupil. Those very eyes he always caught watching him while he had worked. The last things he saw when he went to sleep every night with them curled up in his arms.
How they made his heart flutter....
He had hardly noticed them fully sitting in his lap. Forehead pressed to his as he could smell the sweet scent of cologne that stuck to their skin. He smelled like their shared home. How he missed that smell already. His eyes closing to take it in. His arms adjusting to wrap fully around them as he held the other. He truly missed him so. They sat that way for what seemed like an eternity before he heard them speak again. Their voice just as low as his own as he opened his eyes to look at them again.
❝ i never forgot you. not for one moment. ❞
Just hearing those words he felt a weight on his chest lift. Tears welled once again in his eyes as they flowed freely again. He didn't think he could have shed so much as he had in the past hour or so they had been reunited. "Mitt hjerte, tilgi meg..... vennligst tilgi meg..." The viking sobbed as the arms around the other tightened.
He hurt them more than he could have imagined. The one person he vowed to always love and cherish in this entire world. There was no coming back from that. Even as unintentional as it was the fact remained he had broken Douxie's heart. In a way he should never had.
He left them alone.
Slowly his face disappeared into their shoulder as he felt his sobs bubble over. His form wrecked with them as he pleaded 'tili meg' over and over again. His voice disappearing into their shoulder as he tightened his hold on the other. Terrified if he loosened his grip they'd disappear forever on him.
How many tears had they shed because of him? How many days did they isolate themselves from others because they had thought of him? How was he going to fix all of this? How could he ever amount to being better if he had done so much damage already? All these questions were now circling around inside of his mind.
He let those sobs come so freely. Hearing them echoed by the other as they clung to each other for dear life.
Hiccup was going to make up for all of this. No matter what happened he was going to make it all up. He had to. His heart was still too full of love for the other. The thought of being without them again pained him too much to think about. But he had them again in his arms again. And he wasn't going to let them go so willingly.
Not ever again.
#dragetunge#timewept#ic#ch; douxie#v; for the dancing and the dreaming#🔥▓◤AH YES. JUST ANOTHER DAY ON BERK: Interactions◥#🔥▓◤PEACE HAS BEEN MAINTAINED: Answered◥#🔥▓◤I CLOSED MY EYES I TOOK A DRINK: timewept/Hisirdoux◥#hisiccup#//well you asked for angst you received it#tw; long post
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( @frequencypawn )
Grey eyes usually filled with light and warmth focus coldly on the targets downrange. Well-trained hands hold a rifle steady, honed in without the scope in use.
It's been too long since he's practiced without it. He can't let himself get too unseasoned, hence the use of iron sights.
They're harder to use accurately at a distance like this. The scope lays off on its own next to his bag on the table behind him, mostly abandoned just like his prior occupation.
Still, Wonderland is not without its dangers. He's not naïve enough to assume that the Comodeen is invincible regardless of how well-built or well-hidden the compound is.
If the time comes, blowdarts aren't going to be saving them like a firearm will. If the time comes, Kain will defend this place with ferocity only Miles has seen a glimpse of.
The once-soldier takes in a controlled breath, moves his index finger to the trigger, exhales, and fires.
Off the bullet goes. The butt of the rifle presses into his shoulder in a way he can't say he misses feeling often.
His hand moves back to the bolt to ready another shot.
Inhale. Trigger. Exhale. Fire. Eject. Ready. Repeat ad nauseam.
It's as easy to him as blinking is, even as much as he hates for that to be true. And while he's certainly no Hawkeye, examining each target once he's fired off all his rounds shows that he's still a deadly threat and a force not to be reckoned with.
Every shot was at least center mass, if not a bullseye outright. He's almost glad that Pilvi isn't in this part of the compound to see him. This isn't the name he's made for himself here.
This isn't who he wants to be, but he knows he cannot let himself be rendered defenseless, either.
As he turns to retrieve his handgun for the second phase of his target practice, he's faced with a looming presence that he somehow missed entering.
"... Hi, Black Wind," he greets. "When'd you get here?"
⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ This is not a display he was expecting from the Amestrian. This one seemed to spend more time injured than anything else. From the moment White Cloud brought him back and beyond, he's been... injured; and if he wasn't - he was practically glued to the Cloud's side.
This man is the reason that White Cloud has been so distracted. He's seen the way jade eyes look at him. He knows what's going on in that head of his. He can see how high the Cloud has ascended without ever so much as leaving the ground. He knows what's happening.
He won't say he cares for it but at the same time it's not his business to care.
Still trained eyes watch as each shot is fired and it's an entire ocean to take up where their final location strikes. At the very least he can say the Amestrian has good aim. At the very least he can say if push comes to shove the Amestrian can defend himself. He does not want to see what happens to his counterpart when this man dies.
Or goes home for that matter.
If he ever goes home.
The ever optimistic look that exists in White Cloud's eyes when he explains to these people that he can find the Pillar that connects to their world so he can send them home - it's as painful to watch as it is deceitful because they both know he's promising the impossible.
They both know that he's been lying to these people the entire time out of some twisted form of care because he knows full well that the Cloud is too damn scared to just tell them the truth.
Which one of them is the wicked one now?
There was mercy and there foolishness what the Cloud was doing was foolishness. What the Cloud was doing was cruel. He couldn't promise these people the impossible just to try to spare them from the pain of the inevitable. The same as this man. He too would feel the pain of the end of his world, just as they all would.
And if White Cloud ever did find the Pillar that connects their Amestris to Wonderland then he would see to it that ever last one of them were returned to their homes himself, if only to make his Other's mind a bit more clear. His head was... filled with frivolities as of late.
There were already enough problems with the other Mistericans, but he couldn't do anything about that and if he dared he's sure that the Lamb would become a Lion at a moment's notice.
So he stands, silently as he watches the Amestrian unload the clip in his weapon as if he's done this thousand times and it's enough to know that the unassuming man before him has seen battle, war at that. It's at least a small comfort. It's a small comfort that should the worse happen, then maybe he would be a hinderance on the battlefield.
That's the last thing they need. Even if he doesn't want any of these people near Chaos in the first place - if only to avoid - a repeat of last time.
The man turns, finally noticing him and he is greeted in a casual sort of way that brings his lips to drag down into a deep frown. He wants to know when he got here which means he had been so absorbed in his task that he hadn't noticed the Windarian's entry. Foolish. That's dangerous to not be completely aware of one's surroundings at all times when handling a firearm.
He has more important questions for this one than the state of his ability to access a battlefield. Blue eyes focus in on grey coldly as his voice leaves him in a deep rumble.
"....tell me something. Is he in your eyes?"
#ask || inquires of the wind#frequencypawn#tw; long post#tw; guns#tw; war#tw; abuse#tw; lying#tw; manipulation#v; in your eyes#arc: amestris no more
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𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠
𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Use your intuition & scroll to the bottom to receive your message based on this lovely spread by Labyrinthos using Death to focus my& thoughts for the collective for the Full Moon in Scorpio as a correspondence!
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: take what resonates, leave the rest of what doesn't & don't force anything if it doesn't fit your situation, keep in mind that energy and outcomes can always change & nothing is forever set in stone, you have free will in every choice you make !! keep in mind that this is a general collective reading so the messages here may not apply to everyone. as a general message: my readings are for entertainment purposes only and don't replace professional medical/legal/business help. feedback and a review after a reading is given, whether public or private, is obligatory. you can do that by reblogging, dming or emailing us privately on the matter. if you do not provide this, you will be added to my greylist and won't be given anymore readings, free or paid, until you give feedback which you can fill out in the form listed down below. don't just leave this in the likes, reblog and support your tarot readers, my time and labour aren't for free. while it isn't necessary, if you'd like to tip, my paypal's below. I have personal paid readings available which you can fill out the form below so tips, bookings & feedback are highly appreciated considering i plan to do this for a living! Happy Lesbian Visibility Week, Autism Awareness & Acceptance Month and Chag Sameach / Happy Passover to all my fellow Jews who celebrate !!
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𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝: Killstar ( Memento Mori ) Tarot.
Death: This represents the Full Moon energy. I feel like a lot of y'all are willing to put in the work for something or someone, because Scorpio is intense. Y'all could be witches, have one or more of the psionic clair senses or at the very least intrigued in the morbid, grotesque and occult. The number 13 could be significant. You yourself could have Scorpio in your chart. Maybe you watch horror movies. I feel like you'll be evolving and dying a metaphorical death and morphing into something better.
Judgement: I& feel like this card is very literal and I'm& not playin' w/ y'all when I& say this. Y'all really gotta stop judging yourselves & if this applies, judging other people. I& might be calling you out here bluntly here but I'm& giving you the truth. I'm& not even joking when I& say this but for at least some of y'all you could be the type of person to feel bad or insecure about yourself then lash out at people who're literally just trying their best with the knowledge they have and quite frankly that's not cool, y'all. It's okay to have insecurities about yourself but you don't get to turn around and make that other people's problem for your own shit. I& know that applies to at least some people so that's why I& felt called to say it, it won't apply to everyone. If it doesn't apply, let it fly like I& always say. Whether you're judging yourself and/or other people, you've gotta let that go in order to grow. Now, I'm& not saying this is gonna happen overnight or that you have to get rid of a trait completely, and I& technically can't tell you what to do, I'm& on the other side of your screen, but I& implore you to look at other people and ask yourself if you do the exact same thing they say and/or do, there's nothing wrong with reflecting on and evaluating yourself. For the people who're too hard on themselves, Judgement can represent self reflection and I& feel like for a lot of you, y'all gotta get outside your heads and find some way to ground yourself and change something in your environment, whether small or big. You could have a spirit guide or a deity or maybe even an ancestor who's willing to help you and I& get that vibe from the skeleton on the ground looking to the clouds to see two skeletons watching over the one on the ground, one with a horn blowing and the other watching with wings. Maybe this is more than one deity, spirit guide or ancestor. The number 20 could be significant, and Judgment represents the Fire element so Aries, Leo & Sagittarius could be significant. Straight to the point.
Temperance: Just like the last card, I& feel like you've been putting way too much pressure on yourself and/or other people and I'm& taking this card very literally. I& feel like you're going to start being patient with yourself and understand that not everything is gonna happen overnight and you can't expect yourself to, either. I& feel like this is coming from some kind of breaking point that's either happened or is about to happen. I& just ask that you be kind to yourself and to other people if that applies. Maybe you have an ancestor, a spirit guide or a deity who may want to help you, especially when you notice this figure in the sky with wings above the mountains and above the sky. The number 14 could be significant, Temperance is ruled by Sagittarius so that may be significant, either you yourself could have those placements or someone you know may have those placements. This is pretty relatively straightforward.
The Tower: Oh y'all... The Tower represents a massive change, an upheaval, a catastrophe, a revelation or sometimes even trauma. The question at hand was, what must be crossed in order for this rebirth to happen. Some shit is about to go down. I& genuinely don't know what this is, this could be different for all of you. Maybe this has already happened to you or you feel like it's about to. With the eye and the crown above it, I& feel as if this is fated to happen in your life, whatever this is. Just understand that The Tower is always built on an unsteady foundation and The Tower wouldn't come out unless if your situation or whatever this is for you was build on a steady foundation. It's okay to let a perceived notion that no longer serves you behind. It's okay to let go of a mindset or beliefs or people that don't serve you or your highest good. I& need y'all to know that there's always another better Tower built after. The number 16 could be significant, the Tower is ruled by Aries so that could be significant, whether you have those placements or someone you know does. This reading is all very straightforward and blunt like Scorpio can oftentimes be. Whether you accept the advice or not if it resonates is entirely up to you. This reading isn't light compared to previous readings but I'm& a tarot reader that gives you what you Need to hear, not what you Want to hear, those are two very different things and quite frankly I'm& not the type of person to condone someone's bullshit if it applies. With that said, thank you for being here & for existing, and see ya in the next reading!
#arcana.tarot#full moon#full moon in scorpio#tarotblr#tarot reader#tarot community#tarot reading#free tarot#free tarot reading#witch of color#tarot#witchblr#tarotcommunity#tarotcreator#tarotonline#divination#channeled message#channeled reading#indigenous witch#free readings#free tarot readings#tarot cards#tarot related#collective reading#witches of color#witches of tumblr#native witch#tw; long post
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I will always dislike how OSDDID support forum/groups treat new individuals questioning PTSD & OSDDID as “Reaffirm + Confirm they are a Victim with a life long trauma disorder, with noticeable PTSD/trigger states.” Especially when it’s not what that person is asking for.
It isn’t hard to reassure people their pain & abuse is their honest truth; but giving YOUR judgment in THEIR evaluation of their struggles is NOT right.
“Having OSDDID = Your abuse did happen/was bad for you”; is a shit mentality to promote and excuse.
Anyone questioning if they have experienced enough pain to be recognized as noticeably disabled/disordered needs to be reassured that only they OR a trusted doctor can help decide that- bc both these individuals have a MUCH better insight on THEIR situation than any support group/forum.
It’s a really shitty thing to decide for another person that their trauma/abuse is real enough to be “significant for a disorder” instead of giving them the tools and reassurance that whatever they have- it will never reflect the depth of their pain because you Can Not Logically measure a persons experience through the way they suffer.
Your experience and abuse happened even if your pain was/wasn’t noticeable to others. YOUR pain was the worst for YOU. No matter what anyone says.
Having people agree you are “DID/OSDD/PTSD Enough” is frankly extremely unhelpful when you are looking for reassurance that your abuse & pain is “enough” that you can seek help and empathy from Professionals or Family.
Don’t trust strangers who say your suffering & symptoms isn’t measurable or complex enough for Your Loved Ones/Your Medical Team to care about helping you. ANYONE looking for guidance on their pain/mental state, 100% inherently deserves to be supported in their struggles.
Using Diagnostic Labels as a Measurement for how much Society should care about the Individual Victim; is Not Acceptable and its Not Right.
#tw; long post#trauma recovery#osddid#actually mentally ill#actually cptsd#actually ptsd#mental health
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