#I’m unable to get married (at least at this point in my life) because I’m ace and sex repulsed and thus can’t give proper consent

[theawkwardvirgin]

An interesting Gospel today, on marriage. Now I know most of this Gospel well (“male and female he created them”, “what God has put together man must not separate”) but I hadn’t heard what happens after the teaching on divorce.

Jesus’s disciples respond in a very modern way, which is kind of funny in a depressing way: “If that is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry.”

Yeah, who wants the burden of a covenant with God being actually, you know, binding? Shock and horror!

(Side note, but when Jesus says that Moses allowed divorce because of the hardness of people’s hearts, He’s referring to the fact that men would have their wives killed to get around the “‘til death do us part” thing. Yeah.)

And Jesus looks at them and says this: “Not all can accept this word, but only those to whom that is granted. Some are incapable of marriage because they were born so; some, because they were made so by others; some, because they have renounced marriage for the sake of the Kingdom of heaven. Whoever can accept this ought to accept it.”

This is a fascinating statement, and one I haven’t heard before! Jesus acknowledges that marriage isn’t for everyone, that not everyone is capable of that sort of commitment. But here’s the crucial part: this doesn’t excuse them from the binding nature of marriage. His phrasing makes that clear, from “some are incapable of marriage” to “renounced marriage”.

So what do you do if you’re not cut out for that kind of commitment? Simple really: you don’t get married. People who are incapable of upholding a covenant with God shouldn’t and can’t make such a covenant. Which is obvious when you think about it.

Despite common misconception, the Catholic Church doesn’t just throw young people together and push them to get married for the funzies. Before you get married, you have to pass a class called Pre-Cana (yes, named after the Wedding at Cana), where you and your fiancé go through counseling and training to make sure you understand the commitment you’re making , that you and your fiancé are a good match, and that you’re ready to make that commitment and live together. You’re usually required to be married by your parish priest, who hopefully knows you well, probably did your Pre-Cana, and can be confident in witnessing and presiding over your covenant.

There’s a lot that goes into preparing for marriage in the Catholic Church, and it’s precisely because we understand that a valid marriage is indissoluble. Once you’re validly married, there is nothing anyone on earth can do to change that.

Now, an important note: This does not mean people have to stay in abusive situations, even if their marriage is valid. Separation in the Church is allowed in serious situations like abuse, and in fact you can get legally divorced in that situation, since a piece of paper doesn’t affect your binding covenant in any way. However, in this case, you’re still married to that person and this can’t get remarried. (There are caveats and technicalities that could deem an abusive marriage invalid and thus dissolvable, but this post is too long already. I recommend this website by a canon lawyer for anyone who’s curious about the details and requirements of a valid Catholic marriage.)

#Catholic law on marriage is *incredibly* complex #Precisely because it’s such a big commitment #And a marriage is made valid by the consent of the SPOUSES #who confer the sacrament on each other by their consent #So anything that violates that consent invalidates the marriage #catholicism #catholic #marriage #catholic nerdstuff #theology #I’m unable to get married (at least at this point in my life) because I’m ace and sex repulsed and thus can’t give proper consent #That would fall under the “because they were born so” I imagine #However if my sex repulsion were to go away and I WAS willing to have sex THEN I could get married

[bby-deerling]

what comes after (zoro x fem!reader)

pure fluff! ft. zoro and sanji bickering and general strawhat antics. same reader in mind as my other zoro x reader fics, but they can all be read separately!

Pure bliss enveloped you as you drifted in and out of sleep on Zoro’s chest, afternoon sun dancing across your limbs.  Quiet days sailing like this felt like heaven, with no worries in the world except for whatever antics Luffy would inevitably rope the crew into.  You and Usopp were usually involved with helping Luffy concoct whatever silly game or activity he would impose on everyone else, but today the two of them had secretly decided to initiate a round of your least favorite game: bugging Zoro with questions while you both were trying to nap.  You let out a sigh and try to roll off of Zoro’s chest as Luffy whines in his ear for him to wake up, but the hand he has tangled in your hair keeps you in place.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice raspy and with exhaustion dripping from every word.

Luffy rocks back and forth while sitting on top of a nearby crate, unable to keep still.  “Zoro, what are you gonna do once you’re the World’s Strongest Swordsman?”  You let out another small sigh, slightly irritated that you were both woken up for this, but you never quite had it in you to get mad at Luffy, especially when he had that goofy grin plastered across his face.

“I dunno.  Probably sleep, like I’m trying to do now.” Zoro says with a grimace, shutting his eye and tightening his grip on your waist.

“C’mon, Zoro, there’s gotta be something you want to do!” Usopp protested, not willing to let the issue go so easily.

Zoro groans, and then lets out a huge yawn.  You tilt your chin up to look at him, and catch him deep in thought, making your heart flutter and leaving you slightly spellbound.  More alert than you were before, your stomach began to fill with nervous butterflies.  The two of you had been together for a long time, and there was an understanding between you that you were both in it not just until death did you part, but whatever came after. However, you both took each day as it came, and dwelling on specifics of what your life together would look like once you achieved your dreams wasn’t something the two of you did often, if ever.

“A castle.  I’ll buy a castle.” he finally says, causing Luffy to burst out in laughter, and Usopp to question why he had such a seemingly random desire, especially when he had expressed to the crew how much he hated getting lost in Mihawk’s castle during his two years training on Kuraigana.

“Mihawk has one.” he said matter-of-factly, “If I’m going to be the World’s Strongest Swordsman I probably need one too.”

“Castles are huge!  You’re gonna make her clean all of those rooms?” Usopp asked, pointing at you.  You and Zoro both scrunch your faces, annoyed by the implication.

“Just because she’s going to be my wife doesn’t mean that she’s going to clean my house.  We’ll hire people for that.” Zoro says, eliciting a mixed bag of reactions from the crew ranging from more laughter to shock, to irritation.

“You’re not going to be hiring anyone while the two of you are both knee high in debt higher than your bounties!” Nami snapped, rolling her eyes, mainly directing her annoyance towards Zoro.

Sanji, on the other hand, had nearly dropped the tray of drinks he was carrying onto the deck.  “Since when are you two engaged?” he spit out, nearly choking on the word.

“We’re not engaged yet, blondie—” you assure him with a cheeky smile, before Luffy shouts out another question to Zoro, completely drowning out your request to him for a glass of water.

"When you do get engaged, can we have a big banquet? With tons of meat?" he pleads.

You both nod, and Luffy cries out in happiness. "Why don't you two just get married right now? You love each other don't you? Plus I'm so hungry..."

"Too dangerous right now. We'll do it once you're the Pirate King." Zoro replies, hand around your waist tracing circles into your skin.

"Gives me more time to talk her out of it." Sanji mutters, earning him a glare from Zoro, and an amused smile from you.

“Who’s going to cook in this castle of yours?” Usopp asks, causing Luffy to perk up, his mind never able to leave the topic of food on the backburner for more than a few seconds.

“Him.” Zoro says, pointing at Sanji, a wicked smirk spreading across his face.  “He’s going to be our butler.”

“Me?” the cook asks incredulously.  “And why the hell would I do that for a moron like you?”

“Please, pervert cook, all I have to do is get her to bat her eyelashes at you and you’ll gladly do it for free.” the swordsman snaps back.

“No fair!  Why do you get to take Sanji?  I wanna take him with me!” Luffy whines.  “I can’t cook on my own!”

“Zoro’s not an awful cook, y’know.” you chime in.  “His food was good enough for Mihawk to eat.”

Zoro smiles at your praise, completely forgetting his idea of making curly-brows your personal servant.  “Damn right it was.”  He says, sending another smirk to Sanji.  “Hear that?  My cooking is good enough for the World’s Strongest Swordsman.  What have you done?”

Sanji’s mouth nearly drops to the floor, becoming so heated he nearly catches on fire.  “What have I done?  How about what I do for you every single day, you miserable, ungrateful, moss-headed bastard?”

“What about you?  What does our super painter want to do once she achieves her dream?” Franky asks you with a grin, ignoring Zoro and Sanji’s bickering.

“I’d like to live in a small cottage by the sea,” you say with a smile, “with tons of wildflowers swaying in the breeze on a patch of land big enough to build a studio with lots of natural light and a gym for Zoro to train in.  And when we get restless, we can hop in a boat and drift to whatever island we land on first and drink until there’s no more booze left to sell us.”

Zoro’s fingers rake through your hair, a huge smile plastered on his face.  “Forget the stupid castle.  That’s what we’re doing.”

“How romantic!” Robin muses, giving you a sly smile.

“Until they die of cirrhosis at the age of thirty from heavy drinking.” Usopp says, causing Chopper to wail, and start to plead to Zoro’s deaf ears to stop drinking.  Eventually, the crew ends up going back to their own business, the little reindeer settles into the hammock with you both, and the urge to sleep begins to take over once again.

“You’re too good for him, sunshine.” Sanji whispers in your ear as he returns to the kitchen.

Zoro’s eye cracks open.  “Watch it, shitty cook, being our butler is still on the table.” he warns, snuggling both you and Chopper closer to his chest.

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #more fluff hehe

[bridenore]

HD fic recs : Career - Aurors (part 2)

Here are a few recs where both Harry and Draco are Aurors. This is part two of three and focuses on 20k to 50k words fics. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Agnus Dei by SilentAuror [20k]

Post-Hogwarts. Mystery abounds in the Auror Department, and two of the Aurors find themselves experiencing a friendship more intense than it should be.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 [42k]

Ferveret - n. boiling point After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they’re forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

Draco Malfoy, Bloodsucking Fiend by @kbrick [23k]

There are two things that Draco’s Auror partner, Harry Potter, must never know about him. One is that he’s a vampire. The other is that he’s been completely, pathetically, head-over-heels in love with Harry for years. But when the duo is trapped inside an old shop on Diagon Alley with no means of escape, Draco finds himself fiending for blood and unable to put even a modicum of distance between himself and the man he can’t stop lusting after.

Eye of the Storm by Mx_Maneater [25k]

A storm rages blindly around a cabin with no doors. Without magic, Draco and Harry are trapped inside. 

Nothing But You On My Mind by @moonflower-rose [29k]

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They’ll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case  by oceaxe [24k]

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It’s just professional jealousy that’s making him feel so upset. Obviously. He’s engaged to be married to Astoria, after all. But when he walks in on Nott kissing Harry for ‘practice’ and has a wild magic outbreak, he starts to think that something else might be going on. Is Nott right? Is Draco a homophobe? Or is there… just possibly… another explanation?

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose [12k]

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that. Hoppípolla by @moonflower-rose [20k] Falling in love was as easy as jumping in puddles, and Draco Malfoy was completely drenched.

Potential Gravity by @lol-zeitgeistic [32k]

Draco is not good at Cards Against Humanity, but Harry’s not good at being human, so it all works out. Except for the explosions. And Harry’s inability to live when Draco’s not around.

Resistance by SilentAuror [25k]

Everyone but Harry seems to have forgiven Malfoy his past, and tensions are thick in the Auror Department.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound [44k]

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Take These Lies by white_serpent [34k]

Repeatedly rejected by the Auror training programme, Draco Malfoy attempts an unorthodox method of gaining admission.  

Trust In A Broken Thing by SqueekaCuomo [23k]

If the ring was broken, that could only mean one thing… Harry Potter was dead.

Two Weeks by @shiftylinguini [21k]

If Harry had to guess which out of he or his Auror Partner, and tentative new friend, Draco Malfoy, would turn out to have Veela ancestry, his answer would be: neither, because that is ridiculous. Finding out the answer is actually him, and that his Veela heritage is wreaking havoc on his ability to work, sleep, and above all be in the same room as Malfoy, is a surprise to say the least. But this is fine. Harry’s been through worse, and he can just sit this one out, regardless of how much his body is screaming for the one person he doesn’t want to ask for help. Can’t he?

Waiting For A Song by @korlaena [49k]

After a couple years spent avoiding Draco in the Auror Department, Harry gets assigned to one of Draco’s strange cases. They investigate the mysterious disappearances of a witch and wizard, but in their search for the missing persons they find a lot more than they were looking for.

You Send Me (Honest You Do) by @firethesound [37k]

As far as potion accidents go in general, and deaging incidents go in particular, Draco knew this could have been so much worse. Harry only lost about ten years, and all his memories are still intact. But the sight of him looking as if he’s stepped straight out of Draco’s Hogwarts memories has dredged up a whole mess of complicated feelings Draco thought he’d buried years ago, and Draco really doesn’t know what to do with any of it.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

[matcha-chai-latte]

“The one who wishes to live, and the one who pleads to die” , so beautiful yet so tragic at the same time. I’ve noticed this anti parallel between Soowon and Zeno a long time ago and I’m happy that the author brought it up.

Even though something huge and painful is definitely around the corner, coming in the nearest chapters, I still refuse to give up on hoping for the best. If the story ends tragically, the whole plot journey and Yona’s character will lose their point. From how I see it, the one way to finish this story, is to end the unending circle of suffering: curses, illnesses and deaths, also the gods living among people. This is why the Red Dragon aka Yona was reborn and that is why she receives precautionary visions. Yona herself pondered over the reason Hiryuu was reborn. To change the course of events. To change fate itself.

As much as it hurts, Yona will most likely end up killing Zeno. Be it of her free will or by means of defending Hak. It is so saddening that he never got and probably never will get a chance to live a normal life, but after 2000 years of suffering I doubt he would be able to sincerely enjoy life again. I hope he can at least die in peace.

It could be, that the ending of the eternal life of the Yellow Dragon will also eliminate the dragon powers from earth, which may lift the crimson illness from Hiryuu’s decedents.

At this point I just can’t believe that Soowon will die. As a person he changed and developed SUCH a great deal that killing him off after all that would be an unnecessary dramatic move (inhuman even). Loosing both of his parents, having to suffer a moral dilemma, removing the only two closest people he had left to save the country and avenge his father, suffering the consequences all alone, while knowing that he is bound to die a long, painful death because of the gods he hates and thus being unable to get married and have children. Then after 200 chapters he realized that despite everything he is still a simple human being with personal feelings and desires, that he loves Hak and Yona (which was obvious) and that he wants to live….and then in the end he dies? I can’t take it.

In the time skip in chapter 1 Yona was still referred to as “princess Yona”, so she didn’t become queen like Soowon wanted in the recent chapters, so maybe he really doesn’t die? (hope dies last).

In the worst scenario that can also mean someone usurped the throne (Soowon can still be alive at this point). If it happens, I would bet on Chagol. His death went suspiciously smooth. There is also the symbol of the Fenix that hints he can return from the “dead” (the Fenix Castle and the tattoo on Chagol’s bald head).

Something will definitely happen to Hak, but I don’t believe he will die either. If he dies, I expect him to return from the dead too, since we still know nothing of his origins (maybe he is also a godly creature of some kind)😅.

If our main trio stays alive, together they could gather strength and by working together, fight back and return the castle.

These are just my superficial thoughts, as I said previously things are so complex now that we can’t be sure about anything, we can only guess.

I believe in the author and wish her all the best❤️

#akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #yona #zeno ouryuu #soowon #hak

[kasienda]

Bend the World Around It - Ch 1: Tell Me It Was Real

Written for @marimbles for the Little Bugs' Secret Santa. Inspired by @blur0se's Jubilation post.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Tell Me It Was Real

“Tell me it was real.”

She can’t look at him. She can barely stand the pain in his voice. She definitely can’t face it. 

“It wasn’t.”

He shakes his head, and turns to her - his eyes swirling in their intensity. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Tell me that you were there. We were there together, having the same dream.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to lie to him. She needs to lie to him. 

But she can’t. 

Lying would be like it never happened. But it did happen. And if it’s all they get to have, she wants him to know it. 

“I think we were having the same dream,” she whispers, unable to meet his eyes. 

“We got married? Had four kids?” 

She nods. 

He sucks in a breath. “That means… you want it too.” 

“I…” but she still can’t lie to him. “We can’t,” she says instead. 

“Why not?!” he asks, but his voice cracks. He’s crying. 

She’s crying too.

“Because… because when we did the world ended.”

“What?” 

“When you and I got together, we lost and the world ended.”

… 

No. He can’t – he can’t believe that. 

“How do you know that?” 

“I saw it. Bunnyx pulled me to another time, you knew my name, and the world was… gone, and I had to fix it. You told me our love destroyed the world, and she told me we couldn’t know each other’s identities.” 

He stares at her. “So then, that’s it? We love each other and it doesn’t matter?” 

He doesn’t know why this hurts more than not having his feelings returned. 

“L-Love is a weakness,” she says. She won’t even look at him. 

“Love is a strength,” he bites back.

“Chaton,” she says gently. “You almost cataclysmed a person. A victim .” 

His right hand – his cataclysm hand – tightens into a fist. He knows that, as a hero with the power of destruction, he needs to put everyone else first, and he definitely never wants to hurt anyone. But he’s tired of always having to sacrifice everything he wants. He’s been doing that his whole life.

Except it’s Ladybug who is crying. Not him. Tears silently slip down her cheek, unacknowledged and it kills him. He never wants to make her cry even if his own heart is breaking.

He’s being selfish. She’s hurting too. She has to give up their love, their marriage, their shared life just as much as he does. And on top of that, she has to be the strong one to make sure nothing happens between them now in the real world. 

He slumps down, ashamed. He won’t make her do this alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Honestly? I get it. I wanted to cataclysm him, too.” 

“Or at least the alarm clock,” he says, smiling. 

“Oh my god! I’m gonna hate alarm clocks even more now!” 

He laughs. “Me too, M’lady.” 

Sunday mornings had always been his favorite, where they lingered in bed together for hours.

But those Sundays never happened. 

He needs to get over it. 

“You shouldn’t love me,” he tells her.

She laughs. It’s a watery laugh. “Oh trust me, I have tried not loving you. I’ve tried to give up on love entirely. I’m really bad at it.” 

He slips his hand into hers. She doesn’t pull away. Her fingers curl around his as they have countless times before and as they never have before.

“I love you, too,” he says. 

She squeezes his hand. 

Maybe the dream wasn’t real, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. 

Not for them. 

…

Going back to his room feels like taking a dozen steps backwards. 

He thought he was free of this place, free of schedules and expectations. Free of his father. 

What does it say about his relationship with his father that the man didn’t feature in his dream at any point?

He knows Ladybug introduced him to her parents, though he can’t picture them now. Her parents had come to their wedding, but he hadn’t even wanted to invite his father. 

His room has always felt like a prison, but today, it feels a hundred times more lonely. It’s too quiet, and too big. 

And missing his family. 

His face falls into his hands and he shakes silently. Plagg curls up onto his shoulder and purrs. 

Adrien’s glad he’s there. He doesn’t want to be alone.

But it’s not enough. No where close to enough. 

Adrien cries harder. 

… 

Marinette goes home. It doesn’t feel like home anymore, but she doesn’t know where else to go. She offers her parents a bright smile that fades the instant she turns the corner up the stairs. She can’t tell them what happened. 

She doesn’t call Alya either. Alya would listen, she knows. Alya would cry with her, too. But her dream feels too special to share. At least this soon.

She lays down to sleep, but she can’t get comfortable. The pillow is all wrong and the comforter isn’t warm. She tosses and she turns, until she throws the blankets off in frustration.

She knows what the problem is. It’s that he’s not there. She falls asleep to the sound of his breathing, to the warmth of his body laying beside her now.

Her body has forgotten how to fall asleep without him there.

Which is ridiculous . She slept in this bed yesterday . 

Except yesterday feels like three years ago. 

She lets out a heavy sigh. 

Tikki’s head pops up from her usual place on Marinette’s pillow. 

“Are you okay, Marinette?” 

Marinette shrugs. “Not really, but I don’t understand. It wasn’t real.” 

Tikki shakes her head. “Marinette, Daizzi shows you your true heart’s desire. That’s not something that’s easy to just let go or forget.” 

“I miss him,” she admits, clutching her Chat doll to her chest. 

“Then tell him.” 

She blinks back the burn behind her eyes. “But we can’t!” 

“You can, Marinette. Nothing can stop you from loving each other.” 

“But the whole world ended!” 

“Sounds to me that resulted more from you knowing each other’s names than from loving each other. Chat Noir is right. Love is a strength.” 

“But how can we have a life together if we don’t know each other’s name?!” 

“I don’t know, Marinette. How did you have a life together… for three years, you said?” 

Marinette nods. Three years! They had three years together that no one else could remember. 

“How did you have a life together without knowing each other’s names?” 

“It was a dream, Tikki. The world bent around it.” 

“So bend the world around it.”

…

She thought she could wait until the next day to see him. But she only lasts two hours. She has no idea where he is, how he’s feeling, if he’s okay. She can’t call him either because he’s probably not transformed. How did she ever stand not being able to contact him at any time? She doesn’t remember! 

She transforms and goes for a run. She ends up in their spot, overlooking the entire city. Little blinking lights below fill the horizon as far as she can see. It’s a beautiful sight. She wants to appreciate it, but she doesn’t.

If she didn’t have to protect an entire city, an entire world, would she and Chat Noir be able to be together? 

She’s barely surprised when he lands next to her in a crouch not six minutes later. He takes a seat beside here - he sits so close - far closer than he would have dared only a day before.

She reaches for his hand immediately. Their fingers interlace together easily, naturally. It’s just what they do now. What they did for three years.

“What’s wrong, m’lady?” 

She stares at their interlaced hands.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits. 

“Why?” 

“I’m just… not used to sleeping alone anymore.” 

His fingers tighten around hers.

“I couldn’t stand being back inside my room at all,” he says.

“What are we going to do?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But we’ll figure it out together.” 

…

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladynoir #jubilation #romance #speed write #only write the fun parts #pre reveal #my own content #Bend the World Around It

[dreamwritesimagines]

Enamored Extra Scene - 9

[Set in: Between chapters 27-28]

His father had warned him.

Back at Lavinia’s first wedding, he had looked him dead in the eye as if he couldn’t see just how miserable his only daughter looked at her own wedding, and told him.

“Percival,” he had said. “I sincerely hope that when you get married, your wife only gives you sons. Because let me tell you, you may fight with your sons but daughters? Daughters know exactly where to stab you.”

Granted his father was a prick, but Percival couldn’t help but think he had a point back then. All these numerous arguments with Elias felt like handshakes now.

It was Cassie of course. His one and only love had never feared unleashing hellfire on people who crossed her, and it would’ve been naïve to assume she would raise their daughter to be weaponless in any fight.

And the said daughter had been stealing looks at him for almost an hour now, shifting her weight where she was sitting, as if she couldn’t get comfortable for the whole carriage ride.

Dear God, she looked exactly like Cassie. From the way she would scrunch up her nose to her glare it was all the same, with small differences.

Cassie wasn’t as restless, at least to outside world. She was always energetic with the people she loved and she managed to turn heads whenever she wanted, her laughter often echoing through the hallways but she had always known how to keep it under control when needed, their daughter on the other hand was apparently unable to sit still, she always had to move, so fast and so often that sometimes keeping an eye on her made his head spin.

A part of him wondered where she got that from.

Probably Lavinia.

She took a deep breath as if she wanted to say something, then pursed her lips, making him raise his head.

“You wanted to say something?” he asked and she shifted her weight, biting inside her cheek.

“Um—” she paused. “No.”

“Alright then,” he said, looking out of the small window and she sat up straight.

“Except,” she said. “Except that I…I turned down Monsieur Allard’s proposal, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Percival tried not to smile at the obvious attempt of making conversation without an apology.

“I have.”

She looked at him expectantly, her eyes shining as if she was waiting for a praise for turning him down and Percival felt like someone was squeezing his heart as the nostalgia hit him.

Elias was the same when he was younger. Whenever he would do something good, he would rush to Percival to announce it, just in case he had missed it.

“And Mr. Sinclair’s proposal too,” she added in a haste and Percival raised his brows.

“Wise decisions,” he said, making her beam with a proud smile. “Anyone else had such an audacity to propose to you on your brother’s wedding weekend?”

Her head shot up and she blinked a couple of times as if she was deep in thought, then averted her gaze and shook her head.

“No.”

Ah.

Something had happened there.

Percival hummed as she stole another look at him, then cleared her throat.

“But I’ve realized—well, Elias told me as well, but I also realized that…” she trailed off. “It was wrong to um, to drag my mother into an argument I was having with you.”

A painful smile curled his lips.

“I mean I still know her better,” she added as if she wanted to clear that up. “But I— I wasn’t the only one who lost her even though sometimes it feels like it.”

That bitter taste appeared at the back of his throat, the pain that was supposed to be familiar to him after more than twenty years gripping at his heart again.

“I was not wrong in telling you not to make my decisions for me, and I’m still behind it,” she said in a determined voice. “I will not be asking for approval when it comes to my decisions about my life, but I still shouldn’t have used my mother or Elias in a fit of rage just to hurt you, so I apologize for that.”

That made him pull his brows together, the simple words distracting him from the pain.

This was new.

Cassie would never apologize. Under no circumstances, she would never, ever apologize and neither did he, it was one of the many reasons why their marriage had been so full of up and downs. They were both extremely stubborn and abrasive during and after arguments, and up until this point he was convinced that she had taught their daughter to be the same but—

Apparently not.

He should’ve known though. She did look like her, she did have her similarities to her especially when it came to her temper but somehow, their daughter was much more compassionate than her mother or father for that matter.

Well.

Cassie had said she would make that happen after all, he could remember even now.

The butler had said the duchess was in the backyard to watch the stars, insisting it was too beautiful of a night to stay indoors. Percival heaved a sigh and as soon as he stepped outside, a fond smile curled his lips.

Cassie was sitting on the grass, with a tray of food beside her, keeping her gaze on the night sky that was glimmering with stars. He watched her for a moment, then approached her.

“I’m almost certain pregnant ladies are supposed to rest indoors my love, not outdoors.”

Cassie turned her head.

“Well then it’s beyond me how every pregnant lady doesn’t die of boredom,” she said, scrunching up her nose before stealing a look at him. “And about the argument earlier—”

“Let’s not,” Percival cut her off and pecked her on the lips. “We shouldn’t have been arguing in your condition to start with.”

“Oh I agree, yet you started it,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him before biting down on a smile, and he found himself reflecting it.

“I thought you’d be asleep.”

“I couldn’t,” Cassie pointed at her swollen stomach. “Your child refuses to let me.”

Percival grinned and put his hand over her stomach to feel the baby move, then kissed her stomach as well before the tray caught his attention.

“Are those pickles with a jar of honey?”

“Yes,” Cassie said. “And I’m not sharing.”

“Oh I don’t want to eat that,” he made a face. “I don’t think anyone in the world wants to eat that.”

“Great, more for me,” she stated, making him chuckle. “I got Lav’s letter today. She thinks me craving all these means that the baby is going to be a boy.”

“Does she?”

“Mm hm. She has lots of ideas about the name.”

“Like what?”

“Oh she sent me a list, but I’m leaning towards Elias,” she said and Percival tilted his head.

“Elias,” he repeated. “I like it.”

Cassie hummed before dipping a pickle into honey, then bit into it. “Percy?”

“Hm?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“We won’t be like our parents.”

That made him turn his head. “What?”

She chewed on the pickle, deep in thought before she rolled her eyes and laid on the grass, keeping her eyes on the stars.

“After you stormed off, my mother dropped by for a visit,” she said with a look of distaste. “Unannounced.”

Percival heaved a sigh and laid beside her, and entwined his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry my love,” he said. “Why didn’t you just send her away?”

Cassie shrugged her shoulders.

“What did she say?”

“A bunch of advice I will not be listening to,” she said. “It made me think though.”

“About what?”

“About my childhood, and I don’t want to raise our kids the way she raised me, the way your parents raised you,” she said. “I don’t want our kids to ever…ever go through what we went through. Constantly trying to prove their worth, constantly under a never-ending criticism. They will not be subjected to that torture of striving for their parents’ approval, nor change who they are for it. They will be themselves without anyone sabotaging it, without anyone forcing them to grow an armor just to keep their hearts safe. They will be just…free.”

Percival smiled softly.

“I promise,” he said. “But Cassie, when have you ever strived for approval?”

A shadow crossed her eyes and she scoffed a bitter laugh, then swallowed thickly.

“I used to,” she said. “When I was a child. When I thought it was something I had to earn, when I was naïve enough to think that I ever could,, but that girl is dead now. And I will never make my children go through that, ever.”

“Your Grace?”

He was pulled out of the memory and turned to her, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I appreciate you saying that,” he said, “And I accept your apology.”

She stared at him for a couple of seconds as if she was waiting for him to say more, then tilted her head when he didn’t.

“That easily?”

He let out a chuckle.

“When you have kids of your own, you will understand,” he said. “Holding grudges is not a possibility when it comes to your children. Besides, life is too short. I would rather if we mend the bridges instead of burning new ones.”

She pursed her lips, playing with her necklace that used to belong to her mother the same way Cassie would, and Percival heaved a sigh.

“How badly did you turn Allard down that he left without attending the ball?”

“I didn’t!” she said quickly. “It was his own choice. And I didn’t turn down Mr. Sinclair badly either, though it backfired a little.”

“How so?”

“He will write more poems.”

Percival tried to contain his laughter. “Oh, tragedy.”

“And he asked me in front of people,” she whined. “And now everyone will know when we go back to London because I’m sure Lady Whistledown will hear of it.”

“At least it will only last a week.”

She frowned. “How do you know?”

“When Elias and Cecily come back to London in a week, everyone will be too busy watching and expecting her to make a mistake. It should distract the ton until the next proposal.”

She shook her head. “Next proposal?”

“Well, your other suitors will certainly swarm to the drawing room when we go back.”

She pouted her lips. “I don’t want any,” she grumbled. “I’m putting serious consideration into being a spinster to be honest, since I can’t be a nun.”

“You wanted to be a nun?”

“For a while, but I’m too vain for it I’m afraid.”

Percival tried to stop the laughter climbing up his chest.

“Well, I can forbid your gentlemen callers from entering the house if you want.”

“How?”

“Well, we can just say there must be someone from the family in the drawing room as a chaperone, but I’m too busy, and Elias and Cecily are newlyweds. They have no time to chaperone you.”

“But Aunt Lavinia, Iona and Kenneth are coming with us to London,” she pointed at the carriage behind them with her thumb and Percival ran a hand over his face.

“I almost forgot about that,” he said. “Well they’re going to be busy with exploring London all these years later, and any suitor who wishes to earn your affections can do it in the ballroom. At least that’s what we can use as an excuse.”

“Would that work?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “That is, if you’re absolutely certain you have no suitor in mind.”

She paused for a moment, then shifted her weight and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “No one at all.”

“Not even Lord Bridgerton?”

She pulled back slightly as if she didn’t expect that question and stuck her nose in the air, then shook her head again.

“Especially not Lord Bridgerton.”

Right.

Well.

Contrary to what he had hoped, Elias’s wedding was apparently the beginning of chaos, not the end.

#enamored extra scene

[hayscodings]

everything you have ever said about svetlana never fails to amaze me, i feel like you understand her character better than most. i have to ask, what do you think her life was like pre-3x06? i know we know some things about it, but do you have any headcanons/theories or anything about her? i wrote a fic (and never published it) about her once, but i feel like you have better insight on her character so i’m asking you. what was her life like in russia? what was her father like (awful)? what did she endure to make her the way she is? etc.

Ah, thank you! That’s the ultimate compliment. I rewatched Shameless for a second time recently, and am on my third rewatch now, so I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Svetlana.

We didn’t really get any information about her life on the Southside pre-3x06, but there are a few observations I find helpful when trying to piece together what it must have been like: (1) she seemed genuinely excited to marry Mickey; (2) she wears the same purple dress that we are introduced to her in— and see her at work in— while she’s at home, pregnant, in S4; and (3) the fact that she was married to Yvon at some point means that she can’t have been in the U.S. for very long when we meet her.

With respect to (1), part of her excitement can be chalked up to the fact that getting married meant that she could finally qualify for a green card, but I think it’s more than that. She didn’t look relieved; she looked happy. The way I interpret this is that she considered moving into the Milkovich house a step-up from her current arrangement— which, considering the Everything We Know about the Milkovich home, paints a pretty bleak picture of said arrangement.

My guess is that she was sharing a very small space, perhaps even a single room, with many other working girls, since we know that Sasha was not paying the girls a living wage. It is also likely that the conditions in that place were very poor, as I’m sure whatever slumlord they were renting from was taking full advantage of the fact that they were undocumented. So, not a great situation.

I find (2) particularly interesting because I’m sure it was intentional on the wardrobe department’s part to have Svetlana rewear the same dress multiple times. But what’s really telling is that she doesn’t just wear the dress— a short, fitted, strapless dress— to work at the massage parlor. She wears it when she’s home in S4, too. And this time, not only is she several months pregnant, but it’s also winter.

When she and Mickey go to visit the massage parlor, she’s wearing the same dress with a coat and tights and a thin little scarf even though it looks freezing out. So, not only could she not afford maternity clothes, but she was also unable to dress properly for the weather. All of this to say: it was clearly bad for her financially. And at this point she’s been living in the Milkovich house where she’s presumably better off, so it must have been worse before.

Finally, (3) is a tricky one because I don’t believe for a second that the writers planned to reveal that Svetlana had been married before in Russia when they introduced her character in S3. Initially, I would have assumed that she had been in the states for at least a couple of years by the time that we meet her, but the whole Yvon business really complicates things.

For starters, Svetlana is only 19 when we meet her. This is relevant because marriageable age in Russia in 18. There are exceptions to this, but only under special circumstances, and even then, children cannot get married if they are under 14. In addition to this, Yvon was old enough to pass as Svetlana’s father (There is a 14 year age difference between Pasha and Isidora, but Isidora was playing ~14 younger than her actual age, so that makes the age gap roughly ~28 years). It seems very unlikely, then, that she would’ve been married to him younger than 18. Which puts her in the U.S. for only one year before the events of 3x06. This makes sense for several reasons I won’t get into because it’s not relevant and I’m already rambling too much.

So, in sum, I imagine that Svetlana’s life pre-3x06 was very bleak. Recently immigrated, undocumented, still learning the language, just 19 years old with no family and under the control of her traffickers who severely underpaid her. Probably living in a small room ten other girls in her same position, dealing with violent and or aggressive customers like Terry with no real protection, just trying to survive. I think she was very numb during this period of her life, maybe more so than ever before, and tries not to think about it often. I don’t believe Svetlana could have survived everything that she did without repressing and compartmentalizing a good chunk of it, honestly.

As for her life in Russia, I still need to give it more thought, but it seems like she was very close to her family as she speaks of both her parents favorably and named her son after her father. She also tells V at one point that in Russia “family is family”, and we later see that she is in contact and seems to be on good terms with her aunt. She also mentions using her grandmother’s recipe for borscht in S6.

Apart from this, we can assume that her family was poor given that her father sold her to a pimp for $300 when she was just 10 years old. At one point Svetlana says something about owing him for keeping a roof over her head and food on her plate, so it’s clear they definitely struggled. She also tells Kev and V that she “grew up in his bar”, when they’re under the impression that Yvon is her father.

Now, obviously Yvon ended up being her husband, but she was acting as though he was her father at the time so I think the bar tidbit can be taken as true. V had to learn everything about Svetlana when she married her in order to pass the INS interviews, so Svetlana would have had to use the truth in order to sell the lie.

So, here is this little girl growing up poor in Russia with a family that she is very close to. She’s extremely smart and probably does really well in school and it’s not an easy life but she is still very grateful for it because things can always be worse. She knows this— she’s seen it. And she’s probably been told it by her father many times.

Svetlana loves her father, but he is not a good man. The facts we know about him are these: he raped her as a child, locked her in a closet with a potato sack over her head, and sold her into sexual slavery so that she could work street corners when she was 10 years old. All of these things paint the picture of a violent, abusive man. Still, Svetlana insists that he had good qualities too, and she feels indebted to him for providing her with food and shelter and for paying smugglers to get her into the U.S. She also says that she learned everything she knows from him.

I think Svetlana’s father was the type of abuser to make a buddy out of his victim. He probably convinced himself that he was a good father and that everything he did, he did out of love. Maybe he was an alcoholic, surely he had his own demons— at the end of the day, he probably pointed to these very things to justify/make sense of his behavior.

I can picture a young Svetlana thinking of herself as his protege— always by his side, helping him with the bar, doing anything that she possibly could to be useful and contribute to the family. Listening to his stories, heeding his advice, learning his lessons. And when he hurt her, she probably blamed herself. Or maybe she attributed it to her father’s own trauma— something stronger than him, beyond his control— something that had nothing to do with her. Or so perhaps he said when he apologized. I can see her feeling sorry for him.

I think Svetlana was too young to reconcile the abuse she suffered at his hands with the part of him that seemed to care for her well-being. And I imagine that it is still very confusing for her as an adult, and something that she hasn’t wanted to confront or revisit. Because it’s far too painful, and she’s doing just fine in her opinion.

In sum, Svetlana is a girl who grew up too fast. She’s a girl who never got to be a kid and who wasn’t afforded the protections that she should have been afforded by her guardians. She’s a girl whose formative years were filled with violence, and who continued to know that violence well into young adulthood. She’s a girl who had to make sense of this violence, and be able to live in it day to day. She’s a girl who learned to repress, and to compartmentalize, and downplay, just so she could stay alive. But most importantly, she’s a girl who never let any of this turn her into someone who would repeat the cycle with her own child.

#i apologize for how long this is #there is so much more i could say but i have way too many svetlana thoughts to fit them all in one post #always happy to be given a platform to talk about her though #thanks for sending this! #ask #message #fandom ask #shameless ask #svetlana yevgenivna #m4ndysk4nkovich #aria #tw sa #tw csa

[babeczka415]

Trap of Lies - Chapter 1

I wake up to a pounding headache and a horrible taste in my mouth. My eyes are still closed but as I open them I see I’m not home anymore. I’m laying on a cot and I see a bucket and a wooden chair. I’m so confused on where I am but all I hear is dripping water coming from outside. I remember waiting for him for our anniversary date but then I don’t remember much after that. This pounding headache probably isn’t helping my memory at all either.

You see, I met him two years ago. I was at a flower stand with the man I was supposed to marry, however he was trying to buy my least favorite flowers. I was heading to my favorite when he kept grabbing my hand. I am stubborn which is very unlady like and refused to let him buy the one’s he wanted simply because they were cheaper. However, I noticed this man standing in the shadows of the alleyway. He was keeping himself hidden from the crowd, or so he thought, but I noticed him. Something about him filled me with feelings I sure didn’t have for this other man. In that moment of staring at him the man pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around me.

You see, my family wasn’t doing well with the trade business my father had. This man’s family had made a deal with my father to help keep his business afloat if I married their son. When I met this man I was not a fan of his due to his reputation in this town for treating women like property, to him that is all I was.

As I looked back to the alleyway the man I saw before was gone and I felt my body being pulled in a different direction. I tried to stop him but he refused to listen. All of a sudden I see someone step between us and stop him.

“She wants to go somewhere else. Were you not taught to treat a woman with respect?” this man says. All I see is his back but he’s wearing the same as the man I saw in the alley and my heart I swear stops. 

The memories of those following weeks flood me. He got in touch with my father and helped me in exchange for me not having to marry that man. He never told me about his past or what he did when he wasn’t helping my father with the trade business. However, I knew his name was Jake and he called me MC. He had a huge house in the town which helped my father understand that was able to take care of me if we went that path. It didn’t take long for those feelings from the market to come back, watching him with my father working and coming around as much as he could. He finally asked me to be his and I accepted because for the first time in my life, I wanted it with this man.

Him asking me was a year ago today. He had this plan for today but refused to tell me. I was waiting at my parents house alone for him when someone broke it and took me.

I’m laying on the bed hoping for him to save me soon when I hear someone come and unlock the door. I jump up and this man is standing there with a stew and water for me. He doesn’t say anything at the moment but puts it down on the chair. As he goes to leave someone else comes in.

“Look lady, all you have to do is tell us where that man in your life finds the secrets that he keeps and sells.” this unknown man states.

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” I yell. “He works the trade business is all I know” I start to cry because they must have me confused me with someone else.

I hear the man laugh “oh sweetheart, we know you're lying so this is going to be easier if you just tell us everything” he says as he grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the room. There is no point in fighting this man, I feel too weak already. He pulls me into a room and ties me to a chair. I look around and see different items for torture and I still think they have the wrong person.

The man turns to me and grabs my face, “Look MC, just tell us where Jake gets his secrets and who he sells them too.” My eyes might get wide and scared as I’m unable to say anything as the man knows my name and Jake’s name. “Acting like you don’t know his secrets isn’t going to help you because we will just get you to talk,” the man says, letting go of my face and turning away.

“Sir, I really have no idea what you are talking about. My Jake works the trade business. He doesn't find people’s secrets and sell them,” I cry out.

#duskwood #duskwoodlover #duskwood fanfiction #writing #fanfic #mc x jake #everbyte duskwood #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fandom #jake duskwood #trap of lies

[davnittbraes]

Why I Wrote TWILE

I just want to be clear, I’m not posting this looking for sympathy or criticism or any particular kind of attention. To be honest, I’m posting this because my therapist told me I should try being emotionally vulnerable in a safe space, which like, gross but whatever fine I’ll do it, she’s the expert I guess. 

Fine. I’m also doing this for myself. 

I guess I love self-torture. 

OKAY FINE yes I’m doing this because I want to and I’m serious, no sarcasm or deflecting jokes. 

Just me. Being emotionally vulnerable. 🤮. 

Tagging a few lovely people who have supported me and this story since the beginning or very nearly. I don’t expect you to read this, every word or at all, I just wanted to share this part of myself to better communicate why your support means so much to me, if you choose to read it. ❤️ you all

TW for depression and suicidal thoughts. Sorry 😅

@leithatnight @shirks-all-responsibilities @katareyoudrilling @ah-prick24

And if she ever crosses over to the hellsite from AO3, NumaNerraNerra.

*****

I wrote the first words of what would become The World Is Light, Embodied almost two years ago. 

I remember it very clearly. It’s one of those singular points in your life that stick to the walls of your memory, just as bright and fresh as when it happened, playing on repeat so every time you walk by it’s right there for you to watch. I’ve done that countless times now, wondering over the significance of that moment, trying to figure out why it’s so different from all the other moments of my life, especially all those moments when I wrote other stories. 

What made this one moment, this one story, so special that the memory of starting it stands out? Why does it feel like in that moment there was a shift in my very existence when life started moving in a different direction?

I’ve examined it from every possible angle trying to find the answer. 

It was around 1am. I was laying in bed, unable to sleep as I waited for what I knew would be another trip to the hospital that night. My ex-husband (though at the time we were married) has a heart disease that was slowly killing him, with no cure or treatment in sight, and for most of 2020 and 2021 we were at the hospital at least once a night. 

Well, he was at the hospital. 

It was in the middle of the pandemic, hospitals weren’t allowing any visitors, so the most I could do was drop him off at the ER doors, sit in the parking lot and wait for someone to call me. To tell me either he was all right, or he… wasn’t. If they even happened to get my number in the middle of the chaos.

That particular night, as I lay there listening to my ex grab what few minutes of sleep he could get before his heart woke him up again, I was letting my thoughts drift, picking through whatever floated to the surface of my mind, and for some reason (probably because I’m a giant SW nerd) I started piecing apart the first season of The Mandalorian, contemplating the character of Din Djarin and how beautifully complex and layered he is, how conflicted and tragic, yet despite that, a character who eventually finds some sort of happiness. 

S1 is when Din is shoved into situations where he has no choice but to make decisions. Should he betray the Guild to rescue the child? Should he take the child into his care? Should he seek help from others outside of his covert and trust people who may learn things to use against him? Ultimately, those decisions force him to face his past, present and future, and begin to discover who he truly is. 

I didn’t really see the connection then, but I think I was drawn to him because of that - here was a character who had been through so much, had shut down emotionally and forced the entire galaxy out, focused on his obligations to avoid dealing with his own pain, yet somehow, he found a tiny spark of light in the darkness. He found hope. Because he made choices that led him down a path where he could see that light. 

But the thing that drew me to him the most was the conflict of his obligation to his people - to others - and his need for self-fulfillment. Because they weren’t one and the same. 

He was morally committed to his creed but despite what he thought, it did not truly fulfill him, give him the sense of purpose that he was seeking. This is what resonated the most with me. 

Because as my ex-husband was fighting for his life, as I was sitting in parking lots at all hours of the day waiting for that phone call, as I was working every spare minute at my full-time job to pay the bills but also struggling to keep our owner-operated business from going under, as I was stumbling along the dark path with no hope in sight, I was thinking of divorce. 

And I was so deeply, unshakeably ashamed. 

Things hadn’t been good between us for years. We were never great together, playing off each other’s negative traits until it quickly became toxic, then outright abusive. But we cared about each other, and we were following those steps that we were told we should - find a partner, get married, settle down. So we did the whole song and dance, trying all the tricks to make it work - moved cities several times for a “fresh start,” bought a house, tried and failed to have kids, opened a business to, for me at least, fill that void that children might have, thinking working together to grow a business would make our relationship stronger.

But if the foundation is weak, it doesn’t matter what you build. It will always crumble, given time. 

There was no precise moment when I realized I needed to leave him. It’s like it was bubbling beneath the surface of my awareness for a long time, a familiar background hum, so when it finally came to the forefront there was no epiphany. Just a tired, defeated acknowledgment of that truth. 

I started making plans. Thinking about how I could get out, how I could save up money - all of our banking accounts were shared - and where I could go. I started planning out how I was going to tell him. 

And I began trying to bolster my self-confidence, reassure myself that I could do this, I could get out and I could make a life for myself that didn’t feel so dark and heavy. 

It took several months for me to finally start believing that rhetoric. 

Then I began looking at ads for apartments, subtly weeding through my belongings to get ready to pack, gearing myself up for the moment when I would say those words out loud and finally take the next step in my life. 

Shortly after, he almost died, the first time. 

Everything else was pushed aside as we worked through appointments and tests and procedures. Processed possible diagnoses, the implications of such.

But it was still there, in my mind, that understanding of how unhealthy our relationship really was, how desperately I needed to get out of it, through the months and eventually years of waiting for an official diagnosis.  

And what was I going to do, leave this human being who had been my partner for 10 years at a time when he was facing that deeply intrinsic fear we can all relate to?

An early death. A life incomplete. 

Even though I wanted to leave him, I still cared about him. I loved him, just not in a way that was healthy. 

So we stayed together.

As he struggled with facing his own mortality, I fought with overwhelming shame and anxiety and anger. I was furious with myself for wanting a new life while he was trying to hold onto his. What right did I have to wish for more when he was going through so much, when he needed me most? It was nauseating, every time the thought of leaving him crossed my mind. 

Which it did. Often. 

Because our crumbling foundation was not strong enough to hold up under the strain of such a serious health issue, a business that went under due to so many reasons out of our control, a global pandemic that shoved fear directly into our hearts and minds daily. We were both angry at everything, angry at the life we had thought we wanted giving us so much pain. And we took it out on each other. 

The fighting became almost non-stop, increasingly cruel and emotionally damaging. I fell into a deep depression, started searching for other ways out. Started thinking about how easy suicide would be compared to the pain of my day to day. 

I’d had suicidal thoughts before, throughout my life. And I’ve learned how insidious they are, how they can tempt so enticingly. But I’ve also learned that’s not something I truly want for myself. I rejected them as best I could. 

It wasn’t easy, though. Not when the aspects of my life that had sparked those thoughts into existence were still there. 

It only made me desperate to leave, but I was trapped by my obligation to him, my guilt and shame, and I could do nothing but rage and hate myself for even thinking of leaving him. 

And on that night almost two years ago, when I lay in bed thinking about Din Djarin who carried so much pain, about this character who was trapped in a life he never asked for and chained to vows he didn’t understand the implications of when he spoke them, how he managed to find something that gave him hope, suddenly Tionas came into being. 

This character who, like Din, had suffered and struggled and lost, but somehow found the strength to keep going. Like him, her life was day by day, pulled in different directions but never in the direction they truly needed to achieve happiness. Until they met each other. 

And I started writing. Ducked under the covers to avoid the light of my phone waking up my ex-husband - not only to avoid waking him, but also because I felt the need to hide it from him, this little jewel of hope that I’d found in the depths of my mind. He’d made fun of my love of writing too many times for me to trust him with this, and so it became my secret, a hidden niche in my life I could step in and out of whenever I wanted, take cover from everything around me and lose myself in a world that no one else knew of. 

My ex-husband did go to the hospital again that night, and as I sat in the parking lot, I kept writing. And I wrote every time I was there again. I wrote about Din and Tionas and Grogu finding each other, and finding happiness, purpose, meaning. I wrote to distract myself from waiting for that phone call from the hospital, from thinking about what my next step would be, from sinking into the cycle of self-hate and shame and desperation for freedom. 

Every line of the first draft was an attempt to focus my mind on something other than the fear and helplessness that surrounded me with every step. 

I wrote The World Is Light, Embodied to find some hope in a world that seemed so hopeless.

So when I went to post the last few chapters, I was hit, blindsided, by the realization that my source of distraction from pain, that one thing in my life that had held me up at times when all I wanted to do was fall, was ending. I couldn’t handle it, I retreated into myself after working so hard for so long to push back my shell and let others see me. It brought on more shame, disappointment in myself. 

It took time, but when I did finally work through how I was feeling, I realized… it was okay. It made sense that I felt the way I did about TWILE ending. It had been a significant part of my life for so long, I was afraid of what life would look like after it was done. 

Just like I had been afraid to leave my ex. 

I hadn’t been aware, until that moment, of how much fear I’d held onto. Fear of my ex dying, fear of leaving him and failing to find my own path, fear of giving into those suicidal thoughts. 

TWILE was my safety net, my distraction from all of that fear. Without it, what would I do? Who would I be? How could I keep going?

The answer was simple. I just… would. 

Because it wasn’t a story that kept me alive, that kept me moving forward.

I did.

I found a way to survive, by immersing myself in that imaginary world. I was capable of finding other ways to survive, no matter what I faced. 

And that realization led to another - I had done it, something I had worked toward for most of my life.

I had finished a story.

Put a piece of my soul out there for people to see, something that others had found their own personal meaning in, and I understood myself better for it. 

I had accomplished something I’d always wanted for myself, despite everything. 

Now, I sit here, writing this, alone in my tiny apartment. My ex and I split a few months ago, after several surgeries and a steady run of good health for him. After I finally found the strength to leave and move in the direction I had been looking at from afar for so long. 

So. Here I am, at the beginning of my next step, with the last chapter of TWILE complete and posted, ending the journey of those characters who had been stuck on a path that was too dark to see until they finally found a light to guide their way. 

My own journey, too. 

As I sit here, I think of the people I’ve met through this little Star Wars fanfiction, people I truly consider my friends, who have been there for me when I needed some kind words and encouragement. People that I will continue to cherish and love and grow with. 

I think of all those people who - maybe, hopefully - found some light for themselves in this story. 

And as I write this, I already know - this moment will also cling to my memory, bright and shining and clear. 

This moment is a solemn farewell to my past. Looking back at all the steps I’ve taken, whether it was crawling on my knees or running full tilt or walking steadily head held high. It’s an acknowledgment of what is behind each and every word of this story that was my light in the darkness, my way of working through hopelessness toward hope. 

To where I am today. Looking forward, to the next step. 

Where will that take me?

I don’t know. But I do know that wherever it is, I’m going to survive. And I’m going to live.

Undefeated.

#another davnitt essay no one asked for #look I did my homework as promised #do I get a sticker this week #obvs joking I do not share my Tumblr with my therapist #lol can you imagine #oof #being emotionally vulnerable is haarrdddd #0/10 not a fan #but it’s done #the world is light embodied #TWILE

[kradogsrats]

hi it’s the dolls house anon, my theatre major swag means i spend a lot of time thinking about ibsen and connecting it to my hyperfixations. Anyways i think about Lissa a lot bc i’m a feminist, do you have any headcanons about her and Viren’a earlier relationship/marriage?

oh geez you sure know how to butter me up in a way you will probably regret as I unfurl my extremely long list of Viren/Lissa Things I Have Thought About

They get together fast, though it's initially in a casual way. There's a crazy level of physical and personality chemistry between them immediately, and they're in bed together within like... two weeks, tops. Viren is Lissa's sexy year-abroad fling, basically.

Del Bar is probably the kingdom least favorable to magic, but Lissa has always had a bit of a fascination for the old cautionary tales about wicked mages from the era of the Mage Wars... and the even older, less cautionary ones. She was raised in a fairly cosmopolitan area, but she still has never met a mage before. Yes, she finds it more than a little bit sexy, and yes, Viren absolutely milks that for all it's worth.

They're in their mid-twenties and have both been with people before. Viren's an equal-opportunity bisexual, Lissa has a general (but not exclusive) preference for men. She knows he was with Harrow, specifically, for a long time before they met, but she never questions his faithfulness to her in that regard--by the time they get married, she's familiar enough with Harrow to know he, at least, would be completely unable to hide it.

Marriage comes up in a very "what if you... stayed in Katolis... and we got married... aha, ha just kidding... unless?" kind of way. It's kind of a crisis point for Lissa, because she had kind of taken for granted that her life would play out in a way very centered on her homeland, but she's fallen surprisingly hard for Viren and knows there's not even a shadow of a chance he'll leave Katolis.

She initially really hates living in the castle, though, and probably never fully gets used to it. Del Barian culture places a lot of emphasis on independence, so even though her family was fairly wealthy, she's fully capable of hunting, cleaning, and cooking her own dinner, among other tasks. Having servants for everything is kind of uncomfortable to her and takes a lot of adjustment. She does eventually reach a kind of truce/balance with the various branches of castle staff where they respect her eccentricities when it wouldn't make their jobs harder, and she lets them get on with their work when it would. (Viren, meanwhile, grew up poor and absolutely knows how to cook and clean for himself, but reasons that he also spent ten years doing it for a grown-ass man who simply couldn't be bothered, so taking on extra work purely on principle is not something he's going to be involved in.)

They don't immediately focus on having children, but they do both know for sure they want them, and Lissa happens to get pregnant with Soren fairly quickly. Partway through her pregnancy, Viren has a total breakdown related to his childhood, the way he left home, his mother's death, and other stuff that he'd resolutely shoved down and never spoken to anyone about, all of which has been stirred up by facing having a child of his own. It's a rough time for their relationship, but they get through it.

(Incidentally, Soren then almost dies from whooping cough within his first six months, which is what does the lasting damage to his health... but it doesn't have the same effect on their marriage as his later illness because it's a brief, intense crisis rather than a slow endurance trial of grief.)

Lissa's pregnancy with Claudia is really difficult, and they're told afterwards that she's unlikely to be able to have another child. They both act as if they'd always planned to stop at two, but they probably would have gone for a third, otherwise.

#viren does the miyazaki hair-poof ripple of disgust the first time he enters kpp'ar's house #look i'm sorry the more i think about it the more kpp'ar is functionally just howl but more autistic #headcanons #viren #lissa

[loretranscripts]

Episode 219: Unanswered

January 16th, 2023

Trigger warnings: Murder, child death, xenophobia.

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous editing on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

To step inside them is to enter another world – at least, that was the idea. It’s located underground, beneath a hill in West Wycombe, just outside of London, England, and by it, I mean the caves. You enter them through a rather imposing set of iron gates that are situated beneath the ruins of what looks like an old church. There had always been a natural cave there, but in the 1750s, a local man named Francis paid a bunch of out-of-work farmers to widen and deepen it, using the chalk debris as road material all throughout town. What they created was a system of hand-cut rooms and passageways that looked like something out of a medieval fantasy movie, and each chamber has a name: The Entrance Hall, the Triangle, The Miner’s Cave, the Steward’s Chamber; you get the idea. There’s even one called Franklin’s Cave, but I’ll get to that in a moment. Nearly a quarter of a mile down the path, rumoured to be directly below the church that stands at the top of the hill, is the final destination, a place called the Inner Temple. You can walk right up to that room today, but back in the 1750s, it was actually cut off from the rest of the rooms by an underground river that was named (appropriately, I think) the River Styx. All of this, by the way, was crafted so that Francis had a place to hold meetings of a rather unusual social gathering. His full name was Sir Francis Dashwood, and his social group was known as the “Hellfire Club”, and they gathered for all sorts of rituals and celebrations. Oh, and the Franklin Cave I mentioned a moment ago? It was named after one of the group’s members: Benjamin Franklin. For as long as we’ve had society, there have been groups that seem to exist outside of it. Some have been secret, while others have put themselves on full display, but if the story of one group in particular is true, they should all be treated with caution, because some paths into the occult only lead to destruction. 

I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

His arrival in America was really what started it all. Benjamin had been born a little north of Naples, Italy back in 1886 – the year coca cola was invented – but in 1904, he and his brother, Antonio, packed up and moved to the United States, chasing after the promise of a better life. Benjamin and his brother settled in Philadelphia, taking on tough, labour-intensive jobs, but early on, cracks appeared in their relationship. It’s said that his very devout Catholic brother wasn’t too fond of Benjamin’s interest in the occult. Unable to get along, Benjamin left the city to find work elsewhere. And for a while, that was York, Pennsylvania, and I’ve not seen anyone else notice this before, but I find it more than coincidental that an occult-obsessed man would travel to one of the hotbeds of witchcraft in America at the time. Heck, just a few years later, in 1929, the York witch trials would take place, where the occult murder of a local white magic practitioner named Nelson Rehmeyer would be convicted. In York, folks believed in the supernatural.

After that, he married a fellow Italian immigrant named Santina, and the couple began trying to build a typical American life together, but that was a steep hill to climb in that era. You see, the last couple of decades of the 1800s and the first couple of decades of the 1900s were the years when a massive wave of Italian immigrants came to America. I have Italian ancestors through my maternal grandmother’s side of the family, and they arrived inside that window as well. But America didn’t treat them kindly – they were branded with stereotypes and pushed to the fringes of society, setting most of them on path into deep poverty and inequality, and this was what Benjamin and his wife found themselves facing. Of course, he did everything he could to fit in. He went by “Benny” instead, gave his last name an American makeover and worked hard, but it wouldn’t be until they moved to Detroit, Michigan that things started to improve. Yes, their financial situation got better - Benny invested in real estate, transforming himself from tenant to landlord - but the biggest change he experienced was a new focus, a new goal, and it all started with the dreams.

Remember, Benny had always been interested in the occult: it’s what had led to the falling out between him and his brother Antonio; it had been the foundation of close friendships, like a fellow Italian immigrant and railyard worker, Aurelius Angelino, back in Pennsylvania. If he was awake, he was thinking about the world beyond our own and how he could harness it. Even in his dreams, he was obsessing over it. In the dreams, Benny believed that he was receiving visions from God, visions of a mission that he was meant to embark on, and a very specific calling. Benny, it seems, was supposed to become a healer and a prophet, and it was in Detroit that he finally leaned into those dreams and made them a reality. You see, Benny and his wife still lived within a pretty tight-knit Italian community, and as his work as a healer and prophet began to increase, people around him noticed and paid attention. Over time, those ideas that he had about world history became the subject of book that he wrote, called “The Oldest History of the World: Discovered by Occult Science.” But mostly, he was focused on his sermons, gatherings where he would invite others to come and hear his teachings about the true history of the world, and it’s said that he even hand-crafted an intricate model of the universe, what he called the “Great Celestial Planet Exhibition”; it was made of wire and wood and paper and wax, and he placed it right in the middle of his makeshift altar in his basement. 

But at the core of so many cults is a business model, and for Benny, that was healing. There were hexes and packets of mixed-up herbs that people could buy from him, all promising to aid in the healing of various illnesses. He even offered animal sacrifices for a fee, for those customers who needed something more than a potion, I guess. But healing of this sort was a gamble. Some people purchased his services and found what they were looking for, but many did not, and as the years went on, that sort of business model has a way of creating something new: disgruntled customers. All of it was bound to catch up with Benny; at least, that was the assumption most people would make. The trouble is, Benny wasn’t alone; in fact, American culture at the time was a hotbed of groups just like his, and there’s a lot we can learn from a brief study of a few. Although, truth be told, none of it bodes well for Benny. 

***

The world that Benny Evangelist lived in was filled with others just like him. Actually, they ran the spectrum, from brushing right up against the edge of normal, accepted religion, to far out on the fringes of what was even considered normal. There were people like Billy Sunday, a former professional baseball player, who traded in one touring life for another, travelling the country as a fire-and-brimstone preacher, whose message of temperance is thought to have helped spark prohibition. Or how about the House of David, a commune that was founded in Michigan in 1903. The folks who started it, a couple named Benjamin and Mary Purnell, proved that Benny wasn’t even the only cult leader by that name in Michigan. Their group, though, followed the teachings of a different prophet, Joanna Southcott, although she received her information the same way Benny did: through visions. Then there was Margaret Matilda Wright Brown*, who started having visions of her own in 1916 that focused on a lot of Doomsday stuff. Her teachings quickly grew her community to over a thousand followers but fizzled out years later with flavours of elaborate fraud and attempted murder. Out in Kansas City, there was the Adam God cult, started by James Sharp in 1903, after he witnessed a meteor crash and believed it was the Holy Spirit giving him a mission to preach a special message, which, if you’re paying attention, probably feels a bit familiar, doesn’t it? The Adam God cult drew a ton of followers, and they settled on a farm that was gifted to them by a wealthy member. By 1906, they were carrying guns and starting trouble, and two years later it all ended in a violent shoot-out that took five lives. Founder James Sharp and his wife, of course, survived. And these is just a small sampling of the seemingly countless groups like Benny’s that were out the in the early parts of the twentieth century. Maybe it was the growing class divisions that made it possible, perhaps it was the Great Depression; my guess is that it was a combination of a lot of those things and more. One European newspaper reporter asked the rhetorical question in an article in 1927: “How do Americans and English residents of the Riviera amuse themselves? They join cults.” And, honestly, if you read enough of them, it really does start to feel like it was becoming America’s pastime, which leads us back to Benny Evangelist. He might not have been the only prophet out there in the market, not even the only one in Michigan, for that matter, but he was having success. 

But like I said before, not every customer was walking away happy. Yes, some were, and those people stuck around, even more convinced than ever that Benny’s healing powers had really chased away their medical problems, but there were just as many who felt that he had failed them. It’s easy to feel their frustration – Benny was apparently charging $10 a session, and while that’s probably what a lot of people today spend on coffee and a bagel each morning, it was roughly two day’s pay back then, the equivalent of about $300 now. It was a big sacrifice, and so when it didn’t pay off, people got upset. Making that an even more bitter pill to swallow was Benny’s new big house. He’d come a long way since his arrival in America a few years before, and some of that had to do with his real estate ventures, but what most people saw was a guy who was making a fat profit off of their suffering. 3587 St. Aubin Street was the address. Benny lived there with Santina and their four children, ranging from eighteen months to eight years old. It was a busy house, where family life was mixed with work, in the normal stuff and the occult. Everyone knew where Benny the healer lived, which is why, on the morning of July 3rd of 1829, a man named Vincent Elias showed up and knocked on their door, and what happened as a result would shake the community to its core. 

***

Vincent didn’t kill Benny. I know that’s what you were expecting to hear, so I thought I would get that right out of the way. No, Vincent had paid them a visit because he and Benny were about to wrap up some real estate business; they knew each other well, and were colleagues and friends. What he found when he knocked on the door and let himself in was a scene of absolute horror. No children came running to greet him, so he turned to Benny’s first-floor office and stepped inside. Benny was there, seated at his desk, but he was slumped over in a pool of blood. Oh, and his head? It was on a chair, beside him. Vincent immediately called for the police. It’s said that nearly the entire homicide squad from Detroit rushed to the scene, and when they arrived, they started investigating the rest of the house. Upstairs, the bodies of all four children, as well as Santina, were found brutally murdered. Benny might have been the only one who had been decapitated, but that doesn’t mean the others didn’t die brutal deaths. I’ll just leave it at that. The killer, however, hadn’t been neat and clean. There was no attempt to conceal their movement through the house, with bloody shoeprints marking each of their steps throughout. The police even found a bloody fingerprint. You don’t need to watch a lot of murder mystery shows to know how sloppy that was. Of course, the first assumption was that some disgruntled member of Benny’s cult had shown up in anger and killed the entire family. As we’ve already learned, he was getting rich off of other people’s misfortunes, and that sure doesn’t sound like the sort of life that leads to a happy ending. It didn’t help that there were a lot of occult objects found inside the house, painting a vivid picture for the police about who Benny really was, so it was a safe assumption. But even though they asked the entire neighbourhood and offered a big, $1000 reward, no one had anything useful to offer them. 

They did also toy briefly with another theory, though. A note was found in the house that basically said, “This is your last chance.” Some people felt that it had the trappings of extortion, a common element found in a criminal organisation known as the “Black Hand”, and yes, they had spent years preying upon well-off Italian immigrants, but by 1929, they had faded away thanks to the growth of a new group – the Mafia. To the police, the letter felt like an amateur’s attempt to frighten Benny to hand over money – not the type of person who would kill a family of six in cold blood. The final theory was about a mysterious “demolition crew”, that Benny was buying some reclaimed lumber from. In fact, just the night before, he had called a watchman at a house the demolition crew was taking apart, so he could set up a time the next morning for them to deliver the wood to his house and receive payment. Maybe they showed up the morning of July 3rdand just decided it would be easier to kill everyone and take the cash. I don’t know, that seems weak to me, they were probably much more likely to just haggle the price higher. They had a business to run, after all, and if they killed all of their customers, that business would fall apart.

And that was the result of their investigation – three separate theories, no arrests, and no answer to the question of who truly killed the Evangelist family. The only witness that ever turned up was the family dog, who was found on a porch of a neighbour a few months later. The poor pup’s reputation proceeded it, too, and the woman refused to take it in and adopt it, and obviously the police weren’t able to get any useful information out of it, either. The family’s funeral service was held three days after their bodies were discovered, on July 6th. Over three thousand people attended, although I have to wonder how many people were their because they loved and respected them, and how many showed up to watch their anger and frustration be buried six feet below the grass of the cemetery. And as far as we know, their killer was never brought to justice. 

***

Humans have always been drawn to those who offer answers. Exactly how that desire has played out over the centuries is a varied and flavourful collection of groups that have left their mark on history. From the Hellfire Club’s debaucherous gatherings of society’s elite, to those struggling to make the most of their lives, cults have always been a vendor designed to provide what people are looking for. Most of them, though, leave those questions unanswered, and in the case of Benny Evangelist and his faithful followers, where the goal was physical healing, it ended in something worse: blood. Now, I could tell you that their house on St. Aubin Street was eventually torn down, but you probably know better than to assume that means the story has faded away. Events like that have a way of living on, even when all the people involved no longer are. Legends, whispers, rumours, all of it keeps them alive. But for Benny Evangelist, there’s one more enticing detail that’s kept people coming back, time and time again, to study the mystery. A little while ago, I mentioned that Benny had a friend back in York, Pennsylvania, who worked with him at the railyard there. His name, as I said, was Aurelius Angelino, and not only was he a fellow Italian immigrant, but he actually came from the same hometown back near Naples, and both men were obsessed with the occult. But here’s the thing I didn’t tell you: ten years before the brutal murder of Benny and his entire family, Aurelius Angelino gathered up his twin four-year-old boys and killed them while his wife was making dinner. Similar to Benny’s killer, Angelino used an axe, and similar to Benny’s crime scene, the police found a single bloody fingerprint. Now, Angelino was caught red-handed in the truest sense of the word, and because his behaviour wasn’t viewed as “sane”, he was sent to a psychiatric institution for the criminally insane. And then, four years later, he escaped. And I know what you’re thinking – what if Angelino was angry that Benny left town and made a better life for himself. Perhaps he followed him to Michigan and found his old friend at the centre of an occult gathering, wielding the power of a true prophet, and maybe he was overcome with jealousy, leading him to kill Benny’s entire family, and that could be it. But there’s one detail that’s left investigators and researchers confounded and stumped for decades, because it points to a timeline and chain of events that no one is prepared to unpack, that somehow, and in some way, Angelino didn’t kill his own kids back in 1919, and that Benny’s 1929 murder was an act of revenge and not jealousy. And that detail? The bloody fingerprint found in Angelino’s house back in 1919 was an exact match to someone he knew very well. It was the fingerprint of Benny Evangelist. 

***

Do an internet search for terms like “cult” and “secret society”, and you’re bound to find a whole slew of books and websites that talk about them. One reason is because they have always been popular to discuss, but another would be because they are real things that have historically made a lot of people nervous. To that end, I’ve got one more unrelated tale of unusual groups to share with you, and all you need to do to hear about it is stick around through this brief sponsor break.

[Sponsor Break]

William Morgan was trying to get ahead in life. Born in 1774 in Virginia, he worked as a bricklayer and a stonemason, work that eventually pulled him north to New York. He seemed like the kind of guy who might settle down, he had a wife and two kids, after all, but the only reputation he really had was that of a drunken drifter. He would pursue one business venture, only to fail, pack up his household, and move on to the next, rinse and repeat, and that was his life for a long time. Honestly, reading about his early life makes me feel like one of the very few respectable qualities this man possessed was his determination and confidence. William was sure he could find a way to put himself on the map, to make something of himself, and in a way, he eventually did, just not the way he intended. It happened when William was chatting with a friend of his named David Miller, who ran a struggling newspaper. Now, the two men had a lot in common. Both of them were horrible at running a business, both firmly believed that they were destined for greatness, and both had very few rules about how they were going to achieve it, which, I’m sure you’d agree, is not a healthy combination. William had an idea, though. All around him, he kept hearing about a secret society that seemingly controlled his entire world, they were embedded deep within the government of the newly born United States of America, and they used that power to become the wealthiest folks around. Who was this group? The Freemasons. 

Now, I highly doubt there’s anyone out there who hasn’t at least heard of the Freemasons. A full third of the signers of the Declaration of Independence were members of the Freemasons; so were other significant Americans, both then and now. George Washington, Paul Revere, Mark Twain, and, uh… Shaquille O’Neal. Anyway, William’s new business idea was really simple – he was going to infiltrate the ranks of the Freemasons, learn all of their incriminating secrets, and then write it up as a book, which David Miller would print and sell. It smelled like easy money to these men, so they got right to work. William did indeed sneak in, pretend to be a member and gain access to all sorts of juicy secrets, and he did in fact write it all up for publication. But he and David were so proud of the progress they were making that they bragged about it all over town, and soon enough, the Freemasons found out about it and set out to stop them. At first, it was just harassment from the masons in their community, angry words, threats of violence, that sort of thing. It was posturing, nothing more, except that posturing escalated quickly. On September 8th of 1826, a group of masons tried to destroy David’s print shop. Two days later, the masons set fire to the homes of both men, and then the following day, William Morgan was arrested on false charges. Basically, a local tavern owner, possibly a mason himself, claimed that William had borrowed a shirt and never brought it back. Once that charge was dropped, William was arrested again, this time for failing to pay a tab in the same tavern. The tab, by the way, was just $2. Yeah, the masons were angry, and they were pulling all the strings they could to unravel William and David’s business plan. 

On the night of September 12th, a huge crowd of masons showed up at the jail where William was being kept and demanded to pay his bail and take him into their own custody. The jailor’s wife was on duty at the time, and she really did try to brush them away, but things got pretty heated and she gave in to save her own skin, and honestly I don’t blame her one bit. Those masons dragged William out into the night while another group visited his wife. They told her that they would let her see her husband, but only if she handed over the unpublished manuscript. Afraid for his life and her own, she did what they asked, and then they took it and sent her away. Her husband William was never seen again. That same night, another group of about fifty masons kidnapped David Miller and locked him up in an undisclosed location. Even still, a bunch of his friends managed to track him down and break him out, and with that, a very wild night came to an end. Now, from one point of view, the masons got what they wanted – they put an end to a critic who had threatened to expose their secrets. In fact, they made him disappear completely, but from another perspective, they really made a mess of things. Why? Because a secret society doing criminal stuff to stay secret didn’t exactly endear itself to the general public. Soon enough, news spread, and as a result, an anti-mason movement sprung up. Not locally, either – nationally. How massive was this movement? Well, a new, short-lived political party popped up, called the “Anti-Masonic Party”. Sitting president, John Quincy Adams, even felt that it was necessary to announce that he had never been, nor ever would be, a mason. Their recruitment numbers dwindled, and within a few years, the organisation was reduced to a shadow of its former self, and in the middle of that storm of bad PR, David Miller saw his next best opportunity. He rewrote the book from notes and memory and published it anyway, which, considering the harassment he had already suffered, was pretty brave of him. And the response from the masons? Not a single thing. David Miller’s tell-all exposé went completely unanswered. 

[Outro]

*The correct name seems to be Margaret Matilda (Wright) Rowen. 

#lore podcast #aaron mahnke

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi. It’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. First, EMT, I’m so glad you liked the last piece and that you got what I was referencing! I definitely had that photo in mind when I wrote it. 😊 It’s the least I can do as a thank you to you for all that you do for all of us.

Second, as always, I hope all you lovely people like this one. This is based on a quote I read once that said while he’s not jealous per se, he does pay careful attention who pays attention to her because he finds her so extraordinary he is afraid someone is going to steal her. I’m not sure how true that really is, but I thought it’d be a fun thing to explore a little nonetheless. Also, I’m leaving the timeline on this purposefully vague, so pick any point you like in the timeline after their wedding.

Finally, if there’s anything else you all would like to see, I am open to suggestions. I’m starting to run low on ideas, so I’m very open to anything.

He prides himself on the fact he’s not a jealous man by nature. While proud of his masculinity, he’s not toxic, not one of those chauvinists who think that their wives are their property or the like. He fell in love with his wife’s independence, her intelligence, her determination and drive, her occasionally rebellious spirit (“he married a rebel,” she likes to joke, “knowingly.”). He’d be a fool to try and contain her, contain that. In fact he often feels like a moth to her flame, endlessly drawn into her shine.

But, at the same time, he knows how special she is, knows how lucky any man would be to have her by their side. So he pays attention to who is around her - not because he’s jealous, but because even though she’s told him a million times there will never be anyone else for her, he’s still a little afraid that the right guy, could snap her up from under him. (“Emmanuel, you are my soulmate, you are my perfect match, you are the man I have given up everything for, you are the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with. It is you. Only you. Always you.”)

So, he’s kept his eyes on her all night, standing there, radient in her little black dress, the sparkle of her eyes only matched by the way her light catches on her glittering rings (his many treasured gifts to her that she wears just as happily, if not as frequently, as he wears her rings on him). And the way this one man is looking at her tonight, like he wants to devour her, is really starting to get to him (‘because that’s my job, damnit!,’ he thinks to himself).

He politely excuses himself from the guests he has been entertaining for the last few minutes as quickly as he can and waltzes right up to them, sliding his hand (possessively, he will admit) around her waist as he reaches them.

He feels like an idiot, a slightly guilty idiot, when he sees her look back and up at him, smiling at him as if he was the only man in the world. "Hi, chéri," she greets him, leaning back to press into him a little, using the opportunity to get closer.

"Hi," he replies before, unable to help himself he sneaks a brief, chaste kiss. He smirks as he pulls back and listens to the offending man mutter his embarrassed excuses and shuffle away.

When the man is gone and they are in their own little bubble, despite the many guests surrounding them at the party, she arches her eyebrow at him and asks, "how many times do I need to tell you not to be jealous, huh?"

"I know," he sighs. "It’s not that I don’t trust you, or anything -"

"I know. I have my own insecurities too. I mean, just look at you. Sometimes I think in another life you could have been a model."

"Ha ha."

"No, I’m serious! I know how unbelievably lucky I am to have you, I know none of this is a given, and I know that everyone woman in this room tonight would give her right arm to have you."

"And you know there isn’t anyone else for me. Ever."

"Just as you should know by now that there’s never going to be any other man, mon cœur."

"I’m sorry for getting carried away."

"It’s okay. You know what I always say, it’s better for us to talk about these things than to let them fester and blow up. Besides," she started before she trailed off, starting to blush furiously.

"Besides what?"

"Besides, it’s hot when you get jealous."

"Yeah?"

"Very."

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his voice dripping with promise for the night to come, "I know this is our party, but what do you say to sneaking off for the next 10 minutes?"

"I think you’ll need to make it more than 10 with what I want to do with you,” she replied, her eyes darkening in desire. "Meet me in the room next door in five minutes," she told him, slipping away as he tried to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Helloooo, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

Brigitte is right... it’s hot when Emmanuel gets jealous. I swear, the all scene looked/sounded very hot in my head too 😏

Really liked the way you portrayed his jealousy. It wasn’t completely blind and obsessive because he still felt like an idiot for doing it but still, he couldn’t stop himself from making a statement to the guy.

I wonder if something similar already happened in real life hahaha 🤭

Also, nice touch there with the gifts 😋 hahaha

Thank you so much! And already waiting to see what you will bring us next! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #fanfic anon 2

[juulz]

Here's another thing that lives in my head rent free: who the fuck was Misfit! Silver's ex? The one mentioned in the Nothing comics, who overdosed on accident? I understand if it's something you won't answer because it's going to be relevant later, or on the flipside, a trival thing you didn't expect someone to go buck wild over. I just need to talk about it and you've humored my crazy thus far.

I reread the Nothing comics before posting this so I was sure I remembered every detail. Dating and never breaking up. Making it very clear he just has sex with Gold for kicks and casually has sex with others too. The way the Silver we see in the present viciously rejects love and tries to not even care because he never wants to feel that loss again. He loved them, maybe even to the moon and back, didn't he? The way Silver reminds Gold that their deal was "no dating, no commitment" makes me confident that it was at least a mostly exclusive (possibly barring threesomes/orgies because bitches be kinky) relationship. Part of me wonders if they had a deeper commitment, i.e. engagement, that Silver just glossed over.

Who were they? Were they another defector from decadence, a normal person who got mixed up in some shit, or born and raised in poverty with or without a loving family? How did they meet? How long were they together? Did they have plans to get engaged if they weren't, or to marry/elope? Were they somewhat like Gold or were they like Silver? Neither? Why did Silver fall in love with them? Were they skilled, strong, clever or witty? Did he feel like they were similar enough to him to understand him? Or were they different from him enough to make up for what he lacks? Did Silver ever write songs about them before and/or after their death, regardless of whether or not those songs were ever shared with anyone?

Clearly Silver would have treated them differently, but what was he like with them? Were they all rough fucking and partying, or was he gentler with them, even if on occassion? Was he jealous and possessive, or was he lax about them receiving attention from others? Did he introduce them to big sis Blue? Or did they know Blue already? Could they have been a band mate or groupie? How did Silver feel about them? Did he get his die fighting mindset from them?

Who were they???

ALRIGHTY I’m back and ready to rumblereply. I know it took this long, but it's gonna be underwhelmingly plain.

Misfits!Silver has never fallen in love. 

Infatuation, flirting, flings, any and all monogamous and poly affairs - you name it (fuck buddies let’s be honest here), but he has never really truly been in love. He’s not in love with Gold (not at this point for sure. later? who knows) and he hadn’t been with the last person he’d dated. 

The focus is a lot less around romance, but about loss, this you’re spot on. Even with no romantic feelings involved, it’s not to say he doesn’t care to some extent and certainly neither does/did he wishes/wished them death. There’s been a number of losses in Silver’s life, voluntary and involuntary, and the circumstances under which they occurred shaped his view on the matter. Vague, but this one I’m not gonna elaborate on. Guess I’m due for another flashback.

But if there wasn’t love, it doesn’t mean there isn’t guilt. For each one he internalizes, dwells on it, broods if something, anything that he might’ve done for the outcome to be different. Even for ones he couldn’t possibly have had a say in. In a sense, the self-destruction is about taking control back.

Of course, at the end of the day, the interpretation is up to the viewer. Did he love them, yet was unable to acknowledge it? Maybe. Were they similar in character? Perhaps. Were they polar opposites? Could be. Rough sex or sensual lovemaking, jealous or relaxed--

In my head it does not matter who they were as don’t the ones before them. What matters is that the relationship ended. Sure, this time for a reason other than personal differences/infidelity/conflict/etc, but just another token into the scale against commitment. On top of pre-existing trust issues, hints at prior indoctrination and even possible denial of the very concept of love, well… Gold, you’re in for a tough one. Good luck.

Once more, thank you for such an in-depth take on the implications. I’ll admit that it’s one of those that I didn’t think about too much while writing the comic, so reading your impressions helped to expand upon and put my own thoughts in order. 

All the above definitely has had an influence on Silver’s music. And yeah, sorry not sorry to disappoint, no marriage was ever in the picture.

#oof tis a good one #been thinking about it for days #travel is fun jetlag is a myth #only sets in on the third day #before then time and space are relative #k i'll stop rambling #again thanks for the ask! #misfits au ask

[attonitos-gloria]

What asoiaf/got ships/dynamics that aren't from the dance of dragons era do you like?

ANON, thank you for this question, i could spend hours here talking about that actually, and i apologize in advance for the longest answer to an ask ever seen in this blog <3

so, i think the main answer to that is: i love all the dynamics of house lannister, from AGoT onwards. (i like problematic, abusive families???) jaime and cersei reflecting each other's perfection in a sea of shared grief until jaime loses his hand and the mirror shatters; tyrion's devotion to jaime, the way they are tied together through a lie until the moment jaime cuts the thread off. the friendship between tyrion and penny is so so so important to me, too. 

i love, love, love, the ghost of joanna, the what-if that haunts everything, and how it impacts tyrion's life, how he's been forced to carry this blame and associate this blame to his disability... the everlasting impact tywin imprinted in each one of them through consistent abuse that they repeat and pass onto other people, and how they have to literally dissociate to handle the trauma. i i love the weight of the valonqar prophecy. how cersei is delusional and paranoid thinking it's about tyrion because she is too blind to realize that her downfall is right in the mirror, right there in the face of her twin - that is, her own face.

i love how the prophecy creates this rift between cersei and tyrion, because cersei is the only person who could make tyrion feel truly loved, if she could just let go of tywin's ways. where cersei goes, jaime follows; together, the three of them could have a chance to protect each other. but they don't protect each other! they harm each other in horrible ways! how could cersei escape her father? this god-like figure, larger than life? and so she hates tyrion. she shapes her heart after tywin's; she doesn't know any other way. jaime tries to control the damage, but he can't escape tywin either, no one can, so he inflicts more damage on tyrion in tywin's name by lying about tysha. he makes his little brother believe he will never be loved and, by doing that, through terror and shame and guilt, he cages tyrion in the confines of house lannister, too. 

jaime tries to run, then, by joining the kingsguard: he doesn't want to be tywin's golden heir. but then, he is stuck in a court where the king rapes his wife and wants to set the world on fire. he is seventeen, the king is mad, his father is at the gates: jaime can't escape tywin - or rather, he can’t escape his own heart, shaped after tywin, and what he decides to do then haunts him for the rest of his life. (i'm not saying it wasn't heroic of him to save the city; but the timing was just too convenient for house lannister. as were the methods. as were the people he chose to save, and the people he chose not to.) and the war is over, at last. cersei is going to be queen! all she ever wanted! but the new king is not the prince she dreamed of. to ensure house lannister's power, her father marries her off to another man, a man who abuses her over and over. all jaime wanted was to stay in court with his sister. now they are finally there together, but jaime is watching his twin, his queen: married with a violent king and unable to do anything to protect her. a joke of a knight. none of them can escape house lannister's grasp, until tyrion finally breaks free, in the most chaotic way possible. when tyrion kills tywin, he kills the only god he and his siblings ever knew. this quote lives in my head rent-free: 

Snatch scratched at his stubble with the point of his hook. "Nasty thing, a crossbow. How many men you kill with that?"

"Nine." His father counted for at least that many, surely. Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, Hand of the King, husband, brother, father, father, father.

sorry, i’m never getting over this; tywin is their whole world???? he is a multitude of men? tyrion repeats father three times, one for cersei, one for jaime, one for himself, he thinks there’s no space tywin doesn’t fill and now that tywin is dead the world is kind of void, empty. that’s religious! he is speaking as someone who abandoned his faith, who apostatized!!! (my friend @thistle-and-thorn​ has a theory that tyrion’s arc in ADWD is just grrm processing the lost of his catholic faith and his journey toward atheism. she can explain it better, but i think there’s good arguments for that.) WHY WOULD GEORGE DO THAT TO ME???? 

anyway, tyrion leaves house lannister, but house lannister doesn’t leave him, as it often happens when you abandon your faith: there’s something that lingers. tyrion acts as a monster: he acts like tywin made him. he is not a well-behaved victim. he doesn't mourn and suffer prettily. how could he? after a lifetime of being lied to, of being told he is unlovable, and finding out he wasted the only true love he ever had? no, tyrion is not going to be merciful; he is paying back in the only currency house lannister knows and the only language they understand. lannisters only speak in debts. he is going to be the one to destroy house lannister after all; he's already begun..... and each one of them are really just reaping what tywin sowed.

just... house lannister, man.

i think the future of the lannisters is being utterly destroyed and i want to watch my favorite dysfunctional family burning in despair in the aftermath of their own decisions so badly. like, i just want to see tywin's legacy destroyed, ashes on the ground. i am going to DANCE on tywin's grave when it happens. and if tyrion can’t let go of the tywin that lingers in his heart, he will go down with it? that remains to be seen, though, and i hope meeting Dany will start the process of his healing.

ok. i am VERY sorry about this crazy lannister moment. let's move on.

i love the relationship between tyrion and sansa. i'm completely obsessed with this doomed, horrible marriage. not that i think anything should or could have happened when sansa was a child-hostage in king's landing!! but i like the story being told through them: how tyrion embodies, at once, the knighthood that sansa dreams of (by trying to protect her from joffrey's abuse, by not raping her. 'i am only a little lion, and i vow: i shall not savage you' was literally one of the first thing he's ever said to her!!) and the abuse she suffers on virtue of being a maid (by being forced to marry him, and her overall situation as a hostage of his family); how sansa is a sort of projection of tysha (i've angrily ranted about it here) at the same time he is painfully aware that sansa represents a life he will never have (a family that loves him, a wife that wants him). how sansa wants to be loved but thinks no one will ever marry her for love, only for her claim, at the same time tyrion is thinking he doesn't want winterfell only, he wants her, he wanted a chance of a true marriage with her. and yet, they CAN'T communicate. they can't, it's impossible, like that pathetic scene of overcooked peased and mutton: sansa is too afraid, tyrion is too aware of her disgust for him, there's a fracture between them that cannot be healed or crossed. but they are together in this in a weird way; they are alone together. i think this was one of the few things i liked about the show - i didn't like tyrion's overall whitewashing, but that particular adaptation was made with george's approval and it makes sense in the light of the books. they depicted sansa and tyrion as some sort of tragic team-up in king's landing, as each other's allies in the saddest way possible - because it is a fruitless alliance. it leads nowhere: tyrion is not going to rape her, so their marriage won't give him lannister children; he is protecting her but effectively keeping her in the lannister household so he is not... really, actually saving her (no one escapes tywin, etc). without children, neither of them are going to be given winterfell. it is a barren marriage, a pointless island of safety, but it's what they could do with what they had in hand, that is, each other. and something about this is deeply moving to me? i think there's a lot of hidden kindness in this ship. they break my heart. in every universe, they do, and i have tried not to ship them! but i can't!! they are very compelling from a narrative point of view. that being said, i don't think they will ever be happy together, and that's kind of the reason why i ship them in the first place. i look forward to them meeting again in the books, though. they are my ultimate one true pairing, unfortunately. we don't get to choose who we ship.

i love jaime and brienne. i love how brienne forces jaime to confront his failures and his flaws. i love how she is, in all ways that matter, the anti-cersei: she is not there to reflect his own image back to him; she is everything he wishes he could be one day. she exposes him, she touches his deepest wounds, by simply existing and doing her thing. i think it's supposed to have romantic undertones and i ship them that way, but even without the romance, i still think it's one of the most important relationships of the series. (also love podrick, their adopted son, with uncle tyrion in the family??? like? oh my God: i think tyrion should be everyone's uncle.)

they never met in the books, but after so many intentional narrative parallels i am convinced george wants me to get deeply invested in jon/dany/tyrion. he demanded that of me, personally, he came into my house. these three are going to save the world and rule together. or they will all die in the war or kill themselves in the process; i don't know anymore. all i know is that they'll meet and it will be THE event of the asoiaf series. i particularly have a very soft spot for tyrion/jon? their interactions in AGoT warm me on cold nights; jon's young curiosity about tyrion, tyrion's harsh kindness...

and, because i am crazy about the lannisters: i’m sorry, but given the intentional parallels that grrm created between dany & cersei (different approach to women in power and how to handle your fire weapons no, i don’t think dany is the mad queen of the series) and the obvious similarities between jon & jaime (different approaches to what it means to keep your oaths and break them and being honorable), YOU UNDERSTAND HOW JON/DANY/TYRION IS THE FOUND FAMILY THAT JAIME/CERSEI/TYRION COULD NEVER BE???? *going crazy again and running in circles*

i do believe everything is about house lannister, yes. when i said we were moving on from them, i LIED, i was lying.

let’s try again. moving on!!

sansa is the character i relate to the most: the way she sees the world as a story, a tale, and people as characters in it, with these predetermined roles? and the shattering of this worldview as she finds out that people don't play their part? so with that in mind: the parallels between sansa/ned and sansa/littlefinger is something that i often think about. in the end of the books i believe it will be clear that sansa is, and has always been, ned's daughter, and not petyr's. the parallels and similarities between ned and sansa overwhelm me (this idealism is present in ned's chapters, too, a lot). i think the way grrm inserted petyr there to expose this rift in sansa's character was brilliant: is she going to be ned's daughter and hold on to honor, to kindness, to love through loyalty, to the hidden truth in every ideal she's learned even though the world is not ideal (all the songs can't be lies)? is she going to be petyr's daughter and live in a liquid world based on lies, on cynicism, assuming the worst of everyone and using everyone as pieces on a board? it's where she is now, as alayne. but it's not how she's going to end, i hope? (don't get me wrong; i love petyr/sansa, it's a ship i relate to a lot, unfortunately. and it's so wonderfully written! but i very much want sansa to kill petyr one day. i want all my faves killing their abusive fathers!! hello alicent?!? get it over with girl)

they haven't met yet in the books, but when sansa and brienne meet, i think i will legitimately cry. (something something the lady and her knight)

bran is my second favorite character, and the friendship between him, meera and jojen is the most precious thing to be defended and protected at all costs. it's just too pure. like, the only not-problematic dynamic of this list, full of incest, underage pairings, daddy issues and abusive relationships. bran, jojen and meera are rays of sunshine.

and it's weird, but i have very specific headcanons about lyanna and benjen being the closest among their siblings - everyone talks about lyanna and ned, because he went to war for her and adopted her son, but benjen literally grew up with her when ned and brandon left to be fostered in the Vale? he mourned her loss so much that he took the black when she died? 🥺 everyone out there competing for lyanna's attention, going to war and trying to prove they loved her more than ALL THE OTHERS, and benjen just. couldn't live in winterfell without her. he just quietly went away and no one knows why? i think about that, sometimes.

ok, there's more. this list keeps growing, but these are the faves that consume my time and energy. THANK YOU FOR ASKING. i am SO SORRY about the length of this, it’s just..... i love talking about the blorbos!!! i'd love to know yours, please tell me about them.

#ask me stuff #i'm sorry this is so long? #everything you touch turns to gold #not me being normal about the lannisters?! again.

[undercat-overdog]

So that conversation between Gandalf and Celebrimbor in ‘Bones’ is one of my favorite scenes in the story - I remember being amused at Gandalf’s clear surprise that Sauron had asked Celebrimbor to marry him. Did Gandalf believe up to that point that there was no way that S’s feelings for C had been real and that it had just been a deception? And I think you said that G was something of a romantic (maybe in a previous ask?) What does he think of S having had genuine feelings for C?

Thank you very much!

Yeah, Gandalf thought that Sauron - the Deceiver - was faking it, or at least not approaching Celebrimbor's level of attachment and feeling. But marriage (and the consequent soulbond) is very extreme for one of the Ainur; it’s similar to the initial choice to enter Arda, and just as the Ainur took on a certain level of incarnateness in doing that, marrying a creature of Arda brings an additional level of incarnateness. In my mind the only previous Maia/Incarnate romantic relationship was Melian/Thingol. And that marriage did come at great cost for Melian: bound to her body (though that was probably from conceiving Luthien, it may have been from the marriage itself) and then unable to continue her life as it was after Thingol died: she herself dies to the world? Sauron knows all that and, being Sauron, considers the latter in particular a great weakness. And for him to be willing to risk being bound to a form and unable to shapeshift (which S both has a talent for and uses for his plans) as well as, idk, give his enemies a kill-button (killing Celebrimbor would defeat Sauron, more or less. Though Sauron’s reaction to that would be different to Melian’s!)

So in proposing, Sauron is showing that he’s willing to become closer to being incarnate and take on the weaknesses of that: he’s not gaining anything in that - except the actual marriage part; why would he thus propose for any other reason than that he actually loves Celebrimbor and wants to be with him forever? Gandalf, who understands Sauron quite well, knows that and thus realizes that Sauron was entirely sincere. (Incidentally, Sauron in the present timeline is also very struck by his past self’s desire for the same reason.) Plus Gandalf understands the significance on an Ainu level, being the same species as Sauron. So Gandalf goes pretty instantly from “Celebrimbor’s feelings are real but Sauron was faking it” to “oh shit, Sauron was in love too.” Which then caused his tentative plans for how he would meddle to shift.

(He was always going to meddle of course lol. Possibly he was originally planning to go to Avathar himself if he confirmed that Sauron was actually back. Which wouldn’t have gone well, not least because S and C would mostly ignore him in favor of fight-flirting with each other and he would get miffed.)

I totally think Gandalf is totally a closet romantic! He seems the type to me. Some of his interior is a bit gooey and he's very much the meddler, so I could absolutely see him doing a bit of matchmaking in his travels. He's probably officiated a number of weddings (Belladonna and Bungo’s maybe?)

For him and silvergifting... so it’s not like anyone but Sauron and Celebrimbor are in favor of it. And there’s a number of reasons why Gandalf tacitly blesses Celebrimbor’s choice to find Sauron, many of which they explicitly talk about (and which I’ve talked about before), and most of them are not because Gandalf engages in some reluctant shipping (most of them are because Gandalf is the anti-Mandos). (Note that up until about chapter 6, Bones could easily have had a non-romantic ending in which Celebrimbor makes peace with what happened, genuinely puts it behind him, and gone on to live a Sauron-free (if slightly less happy) life.)

But yeah, a little love conquers all? Gandalf might have a bit of a weakness for that.

(That said, will love conquer all? I give away part of the ending in A Long-Expected Climax (very E-rated! and also I’m very proud of the fic lol), but despite the happiness there, there will be consequences and they won’t spend forever doing fun experiments and having excellent sex. I didn’t realize it when I was writing the dialogue between Celebrían and Celebrimbor in the first chapter, but let’s just say that Celebrían’s mention of Arwen might be applicable and that Celebrimbor will come to understand her Choice far better than he does now.)

#ask #anonymous #shall these bones live #(you have no idea how much i appreciate these asks - *thank you*) #(both for the engagement and being invited to ramble about something i've put a lot of heart into) #meta #gandalf

[mrgrimmer]

hmm, thinking about mine and wolfgang’s “relationship”… putting it under the cut because it’s long but also i don’t want to upset anyone or cause them to doubt their personal view of him :). not that it would happen, just putting that out there. fandoms have scarred me in the past…

anyway:

i realize he ain’t real to most people, but to me he’s very real. yes, i know he’s fictional but i still believe you can have an unbreakable bond with someone even if they are. i’ve always been of the opinion that everyone enters into your life for a reason. him being fabricated by someone else doesn’t change that.

i have been really struggling lately; not necessarily from depression, more from being overwhelmed from stuff going on irl (i’m getting married, my fiancé and i went through a huge move, etc) and to be honest, my entire life i’ve felt that i don’t respond to things as i should. i do lack empathy, or at least a lot of it, due to my autism and the fact i’m a sociopath. i don’t like being around people, it’s hard for me to feel close to anyone. i don’t even feel as close to my fiancé as i feel i am supposed to, and it’s nothing against him because he is a wonderful man. i have a hard time feeling bonds with anyone, really. i love people from the depth of my soul, but i just don’t feel that intimacy that should be there…

i usually have coped with fictional characters, but even then i’ve lost my drive recently due to all the changes i mentioned. i had a popular account everywhere based on one character in particular, who i still love, but that’s besides the point.

wolfgang grimmer ended up being put into my life at the perfect time. almost a little too perfect. i saw his face in a meme about my favourite musician, atticus ross, and i had to google him to see who he was, and what he was from. a few weeks later, i’ve seen the entirety of monster, and grimmer has touched my soul in ways i can’t even begin to describe how much i appreciate.

i resonate with the fact that he is extremely, very much a kindred spirit to me. knowing he lacks the empathy i do, lacks the emotional responses he feels he should be having, doesn’t love through word and rather through actions and hardly forms bonds with others beyond a superficial level…it resonated with me.

obviously we have different backgrounds, and he comes from a place of trauma (which, i do as well, but it’s not the same wavelength by a long shot) that i will never experience. but our core i feel is very, very similar. for the first time in my life i’m comfortable with sharing that i have been diagnosed as someone who doesn’t feel empathy, aka a sociopath, because the stigma behind that is extremely worrisome and like grimmer, i feel i am a good person who doesn’t try to hurt anyone and who doesn’t want ANYONE to feel the pain i’ve felt in my lifetime.

i’m completely in love with him, in a way that transcends romance and such. like i know that sounds really stupid, he’s fictional, but the soulmate aspect is undeniable. again, i believe you can have a soulmate and it doesn’t have to be head over heels in love with another real, tangible person.

he’s a wonderful, good man in a world full of bad actors. he does the good deeds he does out of kindness and not because society makes him think he has to, that the only way to be a good person is by pretending to be one. he genuinely is a good person, even if he has to pretend to be happy.

idk…i feel like i pretend to be happy a lot. or at least mask to where i don’t upset anyone. i’m not a happy person at my core, just like grimmer isn’t either. i bond with him in that way too. i get it. but i have little glimmers (heh) where i can feel sometimes, and it’s priceless.

i’m pretty sure it’s canon, but my personal view of grimmer is that he’s aromantic and possibly asexual (he’s obviously slept with at least one person, and had a son with her) but he’s unable to form connections, just like i am. and in a way, that is our connection. like i just appreciate him so much. i feel seen. i have before with other characters, but never like this.

again, i just really feel he was put into my life lately for a reason. it went from “haha he’s cute!” to “wow, he is just like me”. i love him cosmically not not really superficially or anything (though there is NOTHING wrong with that). as if he’s part of my soul too. i can’t believe i’ve encountered a character who shares so many of my traits, and irl i don’t feel as damaged or as flawed and i know i am a good person now…

sorry this is so long, and i doubt anyone would ever read it. i don’t blame you. i just had to put these thoughts out there since i’ve found other wolfgang appreciators here. we’re all so valid for loving this man in our own ways; regardless of the fact he’s a character. i just wanted to share my thoughts on him, i love him so much in the most organic way. i’m crying writing this lmfao i feel closer to him than real people.