#have i made a post about this already?? possibly

[cutielando]

we can’t be friends, part 2

a/n: the highly requested part 2 of we can’t be friends is finally here!!! again, this is super rushed because i wanted to post it as soon as possible for you guys, so forgive me 🥲

also, part 3? 👀

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Lando had never before considered himself a “lucky” man. He was always of the belief that things just kind of…happened.

But when he saw you in the paddock on that one particular day, after months of being away from you and only watching you from afar, he thanked his lucky stars.

That was part of the reason why he couldn’t resist coming up to you, introducing himself with only one thought in mind: I need to get her back.

You hadn’t known why the feeling of his hand in yours felt familiar when you shook his hand, why the tone of his voice made tingles arise on your delicate skin, or why his smile and dimple seemed like something you had seen before, seemingly in another life.

Something in your gut was telling you that you had met him sometime before, but you just couldn’t figure out where you knew him from.

Which Lando was grateful for.

He had realized he hadn’t been a good boyfriend to you before, he could see his mistakes and what he should improve now. He knew what he had to do.

After the fateful meeting in the paddock, you started bumping into him more and more. 

At the grocery store in Monaco, at the museum where you were strolling with your sister, at the hair salon, at the nail salon, he seemed to be everywhere.

You didn’t think anything about it at first, telling yourself that Monaco was a very small place and coincidences were bound to happen.

But you gradually began to feel like it was not the case, and you settled for confronting him to get to the bottom of the problem.

“You’re following me” you had caught him yet again, seemingly trailing around the flower shop where you usually spend your mornings.

Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing before he settled for shaking his head.

“Bumping into me once or twice is a normal coincidence, but you’re everywhere I go. I turn around and you’re there, like a ghost. Can you please tell me what’s going on? You’re starting to creep me out” you said, making sure to keep your distance from him.

Lando’s heart began hammering in his chest, panic quickly settling in his body.

This was not how it was supposed to go down. You were meant to find it cute, endearing even, but he couldn’t have you thinking that he was a weirdo, not when he was desperately trying to make you fall in love with him once again.

How was he supposed to win you back if you thought he was a total creep?

“I’m not trying to be creepy, I promise. I just didn’t know how to approach you without being awkward” he tried to explain, realizing he sounded even more like a creep.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And you figured following me around was the solution?” you had to admit that seeing him flustered and trying to explain himself was becoming funny to you, any trace of annoyance long gone.

You couldn’t describe the feelings you had whenever you were around Lando. There was a foreign sense of familiarity every time you would talk to him and whenever you would be near him. Like your body was already used to being around him.

“No, no. God, this is so not how I wanted this to go down” he murmured the last part to himself, but you heard him nonetheless.

“Look, as much as I might find this stalking of yours kinda cute in some twisted way, what’s really going on here?” you asked, crossing your arms one on top of the other.

He sighed, hanging his head low. Should he just be honest about why he was following you? Tell you about everything you had done so much just to forget? Should he just lie and truly start from scratch? 

There were so many questions clouding his judgment, dozens of ideas and excuses floating around in his brain.

But in the end, he decided that wiping the slate clean was his best bet. You would never agree to go out with him if he even mentioned how your previous relationship had ended, that he had hurt you so much that you chose to completely forget everything about him and your relationship.

He didn’t want to risk a new beginning by plaguing it with events from the past.

“Okay. Truth is, I really like you, and I wanted to ask you out but couldn’t seem to find the words to do it. You’re gorgeous and kind and nice and I didn’t think you would want to go out with me, given what the internet has been saying about me” he confessed, scratching the back of his head in fear of what your reaction would be.

Once upon a time, he could read you like the back of his hand, knowing your every little tic and every tell. He knew every single thing there was to know about you, but as you stood there in front of him, he felt like he didn’t know you.

Even while you smiled at him with that same smile he had come to love over time, you were not the person he had left behind. You were someone else entirely, only the memory of you hiding behind your eyes. But was it wrong that it intrigued him? That it made him want to get to know you again so badly?

Maybe. But he didn’t want to resist it any longer.

Finally looking up at your eyes, his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the smile he loved vibrantly shining on your face, a sense of familiarity filling his chest.

“I don’t care what the internet says about you, I want to get to know the real you. People can have their opinions of you, I want to have my own” you said, stepping closer to him.

Lando felt like he couldn’t breathe. Having you so close to him after so much time apart made him want to lose his composure and just kiss the life out of you, but he couldn’t.

No, he wanted to do it right. He couldn’t afford to mess it up again. 

“What are you saying?” he asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t misinterpret anything.

“I’m saying that you should give me your number” you said, trying to suppress the smile that was inching towards your lips.

You didn’t know why you were acting like this. Accepting to go on a date with a guy that basically followed you around, asking him for his number? You were never that irresponsible when it came to dating, so why was he so different right now?

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something deep within you which was screaming at you to trust him. There was that sense of comfort that you felt whenever you were around him ever since the two of you bumped into each other, but you didn’t know where it was coming from. How could you feel so at ease with someone you had just met?

It was weird, definitely worrisome if you were being truthful with yourself. But then again, what harm could it do?

Lando had never taken out his phone as fast as he did in that moment, almost dropping it in the process, which made you laugh a little.

Seeing him so flustered made him blush, almost embarrassed that he couldn’t keep his act together. 

He gave you the phone in the end, and you put in your number and the name y/n💕, giving him the phone back and leaving, kissing his cheek as you passed by him.

Lando felt like he was dreaming as he felt your lips touch his skin, however briefly the contact had been. And unbeknownst to you, you were biting your lip and blushing as you walked away from him, eagerly waiting to get a text from him. 

And thankfully, it was merely an hour later when your phone dinged, and the butterflies started acting up once again.

♡♡♡♡♡

The moment of your first date with Lando had arrived after texting back and forth for a couple of days, and it was safe to say that the both of you were freaking out. 

You, on one hand, were freaking out because it felt like you hadn’t been this excited about going on a date in forever. Lando, on the other hand, was freaking out over wanting to make sure he didn’t screw things up the second time around. 

The nerves that he felt as he waited in front of your apartment building were nothing like he ever felt before. He hadn’t even been this nervous when you two went out the first time all those years back. But as he stood there, flowers in hand and yet another gift in his pocket, he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

That was until you finally appeared, dressed in his favorite dress of yours, sandals and curly hair, smiling from ear to ear when you saw him waiting for you.

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t decide what to wear. Have you been waiting long?

Lando’s brain froze for a split second. Had he been waiting there so long that he didn’t even notice you had been late? Taking a quick peek at the watch resting on his left wrist, he realized he had been standing in front of your building for more than 20 minutes.

“Um, no. Just got here like 5 minutes ago” he lied, content when he saw the relieved smile you gave him. “These are for you” he said, holding out the flowers towards you. 

You took the bouquet from him, blushing once you noticed that he had bought you your favorite flowers.

“How did you know these are my favorites?” you asked, bringing the flowers up to your nose and inhaling the sweet aroma.

He shrugged, and left it at that. He couldn’t really tell you how he knew they were your favorite, so he figured he shouldn’t say anything else.

The night went by beautifully, the conversation flowing as if you had known each other your whole lives. The laughter you shared was natural, you felt so at ease while talking to him.

As the end of the night grew closer, you were walking hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Monaco, a comfortable silence between the two of you. You had never felt at ease with anyone else in your entire life, yet here you were, feeling more at home with Lando than any other person in your life besides your family.

“Thank you for tonight” you said, smiling sadly once you arrived in front of your building. 

Lando smiled, stepping closer to you.

“It was my pleasure” he whispered, the distance between the two of you almost non-existent.

He looked you in the eyes as if he was asking for permission, and the second you nodded he leaned in and kissed you with everything that he had, making your knees go weak and almost buckle.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and started playing with the hair at the back of his head, almost accidentally letting out a moan at how good his lips felt on yours. Every inch of your body was on fire, your senses tingling as you got lost in the feeling of Lando.

Lando, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions. Even though he had been waiting for this moment for so many months, he felt guilty. There he was, using the fact that you had no memory of your past relationship to win you back. Was he being selfish?

Should he tell you the truth about the past?

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[clairedaring]

random msi ep 7 thoughts - joe's guilt and obligations to the old owner of his new body/life

so i did my reread of the chapters last weekend in preparation for this week's episode and one part stood out to me that i missed in last few rereads was this precious bit where joe expresses his guilt about about using his new body for sex

“Mom, it’s true. I also think that I came across such a good thing. He said that I can repay him slowly, but he’ll lend me the money first for our pressing needs. This money is really nothing to him. The money we owed, we can repay a part of it first. I’ll work hard. It’ll definitely get better in the future. So Mom, you must not have any burden. You must comply with the treatments. It’s only if you live that we can have hope, okay?” [Ing]’s voice trembled, “There is really such good people? How can there be such good people?” [Joe] smiled and confirmed the matter over and over again; only for [Ing] to feel as ease. If she knew that he agreed to such a deal… he wouldn’t dare to think about the consequences. If it was his former body, he may not feel as terrible. He is not a woman, not to mention that he had slept with [Ming] before. However, this body was not his. Although they have converged for so long, [Joe] still could not fully accept this body. Using [Ing]’s son’s body to do this made his heart filled with a sense of guilt. Moreover, when he thought of [Ming] using this body as a (substitute)……he could not describe his feelings. Embarrassed, awkward, and resentful. [Joe]’s heart is full of negative emotions. - Chapter 60, Professional Body Double by Shui Qian Cheng

And obviously since these are more of Joe's inner thoughts, I thought we weren't gonna get them. But then MSI team really took me by surprise by incorporating that bit seamlessly into this scene.

gif courtesy of @pharawee

it's a tiny detail. but one i appreciate very much to the team for having joe (the soul) remains considerate to the old owner of his body, someone he owes his new life to.

and it's actually not the only bit in the novel where he is constantly reminded by the old owner of his new body. like for example, when he first learned of ing's illness, he also considered donating one of his kidneys.

[Joe] made an arrangement with the doctor to have his kidney tested for compatibility the next time he come. This he did secretly behind [Ing]’s back. Even if his kidney is a match, the first issue is that he has no money for the surgery and second is that he’s afraid [Ing] would rather die than to agree to accept his kidney. But no matter what, he has to give it a try. At least there’s more hope to save her. Although [Joe] felt a little fearful on the possibility of having a kidney removed, he had no reason to back down. This body was not his to start with, but belonged to this youngster named [Joe]. He was just a dying person fortunate enough to have his soul hosted in this body to continue on living his life. This youngster is [Ing]’s son. On this body that hosted his soul, every strand of hair, skin and even this life came from [Ing]. He is the closest relative to [Ing]. He cannot evade nor can he be selfish. - Chapter 57, Professional Body Double by Shui Qian Cheng

and i also really like that even in as early as the beginning of the novel, since joe's woken up from his coma he's already committed to being ing's son because he's indebted to the old owner of his new body for giving him a 'renewed treasured life'.

[Joe] glanced at her. Although this woman is not his mother, he thinks that he has the responsibility to take care of her for the rest of her life because he took over her son’s body, making her lose her son forever. He, on the other hand, got a renewed treasured life. He can’t just accept that. He should also take up the responsibility that this life should have taken and complete his obligations. - Chapter 3, Professional Body Double by Shui Qian Cheng

anyhow this was not really a thoughts post, more like an excuse to gush about how much i love this novel and how well the series has been able to capture nuances that i thought would be left out due to tv constraints.

#my stand in #msi thoughts #claire opens up her goddamn mouth #my stand in the series #professional body double #usersasa #userrlana

[je-suis-applebread]

Wait do the beasts still want their souljams back? Since I see that PV and White Lily are in the au-

I was just wondering if the beasts have tension between the ancients but this also brings up the question of if the other ancients visit as well

mostly text post (that took quite some time)

so, where do i start... beasts-ancients relationships under the cut (there's a lot)

Beasts don't try to get soul jams anymore. They know, that once they get their hands on at least one, they would get grounded once again faster than they can say "world domination" - even though they don't know if Witches are the same they used to be or not, they know cookies would still be able to bury them alive at that tree, so isn't worth it.

But not that they even want to try that again. They've already lost once, what is there to repeat? They are kinda content with what they have now. And I find two of them a special case, actually.

Eternal Sugar and Silent Salt. After everything I came up with, I've found something special about them, something that especially noticeable in "what if eldad faerie died" reactions - Eternal Sugar wants them to be happy, Silent Salt tries to be there for them. They get closer to what their ideals were once. Maybe they're not Happiness and Solidarity per se, but sometimes they just feel like that. Of course, they're not gonna take respective soul jams to become whole again, neither do they have some special synergies with their Ancients, it's just a detail I really like.

Anyway, to relationships we go.

Mystic Flour:

- Dark Cacao: Dark Cacao HATES her for what had transpired during her chapter and - hey, can you really blame him for his feelings?? He just never wants to see her ever again (he'll have to on purelily's wedding, poor soul), he does not know what he will do if he sees her for too long. — She doesn't give a fuck about it or him.

- Pure Vanilla: she doesn't interact with him all too much, however he is terrified by what he heard from Dark Cacao. So he maybe wishes he won't stumble upon her. — She, once again, doesn't give a fuck.

- Hollyberry: she would like to call Mystic Flour out on feeling something because no way she believes Mystic Flour really apathethic to everything. — That's annoying to Mystic Flour, otherwise she also doesn't give a fuck

- Golden Cheese: they forbid her from starting fights because the first thing she did when found out about her doings from Dark Cacao, she started looking for her to at least punch her. She was held back physically, which did not stop her from shouting insults. — Mystic Flour was watching it with her annoyed face, mostly irritated by noise also not fully understanding why Golden Cheese reacts almost harsher than Dark Cacao when it wasn't even her kingdom, why would she feel something that strong when it didn't include her. If Golden Cheese is surprisingly in Faerie Kingdom, she locks herself up so she would not have to listen to her screams for another half an hour.

- White Lily: she really doesn't believe Mystic Flour is okay in any way though. Of course every Beast has their "oof lmao", but everyone is maybe slowly but surely come to senses and Mystic Flour... White Lily knows she must give a fuck about at least something, even if she is "Apathy". So she is mostly worried about her and her attitude. Also hearing about her deeds made White Lily once again think of her doings as Dark Enchantress, so she became quite quiet for a while (and Silent Salt was another quiet one, but tried to be a comforting presence). — Mystic Flour... She doesn't give a fuck to even try to not to give a fuck. Like, with others is mostly "ignore them", but with Lily she doesn't even acknowledge ignoring her

Shadow Milk:

- Pure Vanilla: after all the troubles, he really didn't want to believe a word of his and maybe possibly evade him. But being there with White Lily, he kinda got to know new Shadow Milk - mischievous and still very emotional, but otherwise mostly harmless. Sometimes he wonders if this is some grand deceit of his but then this silly boy hides behind him because he just annoyed Mystic Flour to point of giving a fuck and, well, it doesn't seem that likely. He is not fully comfortable with being around him - at first he wasn't comfortable with Shadow Milk at general, but after he got used to him it was because he didn't really want to be his hiding wall or involuntary coparticipant of his jokes and stuff. — And we all know what Shadow Milk feels about him. For him, Pure Vanilla is absolute bestie, he never let's this poor innocent guy go, for him he's that rat/mouse he picked up and said "youre my bestie now"

- Hollyberry: she kinda likes his energetic and funloving attitude. She gets that he shouldn't be trusted, but hanging around him is never boring for her. She trusts her friends that if Shadow Milk would start deceiving her, they would notice and get her back, so she's kinda chill about him. — He also finds her quite interesting, especially her stories. Especially dragon ones. And maybe she kinda internally compares him and Pitaya because under overall opinions, they're good companions.

- Dark Cacao: he can tolerate him, which already is times better than with Mystic Flour. Not very much aside from this though - Shadow Milk being cookie of Deceit is already a massive con for him, and his personality overall is kinda annoying for Dark Cacao. He can stay in the same room as him, but he's gonna grumble or leave it if Shadow Milk tries to communicate with him with no actual reason or pull some shenanigans of his. — As for Shadow Milk, Dark Cacao kinda reminds him of Silent Salt and a little of Mystic Flour, so bro can't stop himself from annoying this guy. Overall he's fine, but nothing really special standing out.

- Golden Cheese: she's wary of him, she's all like "I'm not letting you mess with my head". She's all ready for hitting him should the need come. Shadow Milk actually finds kinda amusing the fact that she was deceiving herself about her kingdom's fate. — He would like to mess with her about it or at least stir some talk that way but she never lets him.

- White Lily: she was a bit tense about him in the beginning, but slowly started to find his personality kinda amusing. His shenanigans were making her smile when she was sure of nothing, when her thoughts were trying to get her. She could see his obvious attachment to Elder Faerie what raised her trust towards him even more. — Shadow Milk, considering her closeness to Elder Faerie, kinda treats her like some kind of sister. Out of the Beasts, he knows how haunted she is by her past the most. If he was to cheer her up, she would think of it as a lie, so he mostly distracts her from thinking or gets Pure Vanilla's attention to her

Eternal Sugar:

- Hollyberry: drinking buddies. Okay, let's elaborate, she wasn't really trusting her at the beginning, but Eternal Sugar let her understand, that she has no harm in mind as of now. One time White Lily mentioned that Eternal Sugar makes really good wine and then Hollyberry accepted next drinking together suggestion. She slowly started warming up to her and really enjoys their drinking sessions. — Eternal Sugar actually first suggested drinking together right after her defeat. She basically said like, hey would you like to drink with me? i want to cheer over your victory. And of course Hollyberry was surprised aaand of course she was suspicious. But Eternal Sugar didn't stop after that rejection – after all, she knows that Hollyberry likes drinking, so that means they both like drinking the most out there so why not take her in drinking buddies and possibly just buddies down the line, with the way they giggle after first half of drinking session.

- Pure Vanilla: he likes to see how happy White Lily is to chat with her. He gets that Eternal Sugar is, like, mostly harmless when she has no motivation to commit atrocities, so he's actually very fine with interacting with her. He finds it pleasant to talk with her when they're together. — Eternal Sugar finds him cute in terms of personality. Also sis is main purelily supporter in this household, she finds him very good for White Lily.

- Dark Cacao: she doesn't really worry him. He isn't enthusiastic to communicate with her but if she tries to sometimes he entertains it. She's the most chill out of them and Dark Cacao gets it – like, he's not gonna trust Beasts, at least anytime soon, but he's kinda okay with her. — Eternal Sugar can't help herself but think of Silent Salt whenever she sees Dark Cacao, she actually suspects that just like Silent Salt, Dark Cacao also is a "softie"© inside, that's her main theory.

- Golden Cheese: the only Beast she is okay with. Golden Cheese actually finds her wings kinda cool, and maybe she sometimes pouts because Eternal Sugar doesn't agree to flying race. — Eternal Sugar is not a fan of races or such but she totally can't drop the topic of wing care. She had been asking Golden Cheese if she was doing anything with her wings and gave some of her wing care tips in return (and Golden Cheese had actually tried out a few)

- White Lily: she was invited on girls night by Eternal Sugar after a few visits to Beast-Yeast. She didn't really know what to expect, but it turned out just a girls night with her, Eternal Sugar and Mystic Flour. Like, of course, Mystic Flour was in her "i don't give a fuck", but White Lily and Eternal Sugar actually had quite some fun, spending the night by meaningless gossips and different hairstyles (they even made one for Mystic Flour). — Eternal Sugar just adores White Lily. Like, she was kinda intrigued when she met her for the first time, but the she started gradually realising that she wants to befriend her and so she did. Her bestie is Burning Spice, but White Lily is very close second, she's not even second, she's first and a half.

Burning Spice:

- Golden Cheese: Golden Cheese is tense and kinda down around him. Tense because of what he had been doing about soul jam stuff and down because he embodies destruction, he reminds her of her loss just by being there. She kinda tries to play neutrality or still being irritated about soil jam stiff around him, she mostly tries o leave whenever they're in the same place. — Burning Spice actually feels kinda bad because he had distressed an already traumatized person even more. He would like to somehow make up for that, but he can't really get a chance to do so.

- Pure Vanilla: he finds Burning Spice quite sincere person. Like, of course Burning Spice still gets into troubles and creates destruction, but most of the time it happens out of accidents, which makes Pure Vanilla calm about him. He's not malicious since the end of all the soul jam mess, and he finds him a fun person. Way too active to tag along, but fine to have an occasional chat with. — Burning Spice thinks he's a bit frail actually, not in the bad way. Like, if Pure Vanilla would get exhausted around him he would totally carry him (not that he wouldn't for others, but it's even more for Pure Vanilla). He kinda likes to ask him about Crispia, how the world is there.

- Hollyberry: she kinda finds their personalities a bit matching. Like, she had found him quite fine all the way almost in beginning when he crashed in something and was very embarrassed about destruction he caused. She suggested having a spar the very next time they saw each other (of course under supervision but he didn't mind), so she really likes running around with him when she visits. — Burning Spice also likes spending time with her. He actually was surprised to see so much power in such a cookie but oh he's all in for it. Especially after stories about dragons (which may have made him being happy as a little kid whenever he wins a long spar/forest race or something else against her)

- Dark Cacao: he actually gets skeptical half the times Burning Spice gets into another destructive accident but doesn't push on it looking at his friends. He is kinda tense about him, but actually his active yet sincere personality sometimes reminds him of Crunchy Chip and so sometimes he gets lost in fond thoughts around him. — Burning Spice finds him kinda grumpy but also thinks he has his reasons to be that way. He doesn't really try to communicate with Dark Cacao most of the time, knowing he would most likely be turned down or ignored, judging by his personality.

- White Lily: she gets worried about Burning Spice each time he crashes into something or something like that happens again. Burning Spice spends quite some time with Eternal Sugar, so she finds him being her good friend just like Eternal Sugar. — Burning Spice can't think of her any way except as a friend or kinda sister, but mostly friend. He likes chatting with her and Eternal Sugar, sometimes he even participates in their girl nights (and those nights they totally paint their nails(do cookies have those though...? ...does it matter though??)).

Silent Salt:

- White Lily: she was kinda tense and a bit afraid of him in the beginning but slowly she was finding him more and more reliable and just kinda misunderstood. So she stopped worrying about him looking all intimidating and tried to know him closer. She realised he is actually very reliable and the most responsible out of Beasts, so she actually started sticking around him sometimes. — He knows she wanted best and then it turned out into disaster, so she totally wants to comfort her (and possibly relates). He sometimes gets quite worried thinking of what would somebody who don't know her think of her knowing truth about Dark Enchantress(especially worried when he sees the way Golden Cheese still can't get okay with it), also he really wants her to kinda separate Dark Enchantress and herself in her head. She's here and that person is out there.

- Pure Vanilla: at first he was tense as well, but then noticed that Silent Salt does something questionable only when something happens that really clashes with his morals. After he got to know him a bit closer, he started to understand his company. Not really enjoy it, it's kinda uncomfortable for him, but he understood while others were finding it comforting. — Silent Salt is positively surprised that such an actually pure cookie exists in such a world. He respects Pure Vanilla for his personality and morals, for the way he does not waver in his ways and wishes he would stay this way as long as this world would allow him to.

- Hollyberry: she finds his presence kinda unnerving especially with him being that silent so she tries to not interact more than needed. — Silent Salt just thinks their personalities are way too different, no way to actually connect with her. She does not try to do so and so he follows this tactic.

- Dark Cacao: he finds their similarities being kinda unnerving. Since Silent Salt is, well, silent, he had been thinking they would not really communicate, but they kinda got some non-verbal communication in actions, body language and in case of Dark Cacao, eyes. So he got that they both are just worried about ones they care for and can go for great lengths to protect what they have. But otherwise he really doesn't initiate any other contact. — Silent Salt kinda sees through him because of their similarities and he thinks Dark Cacao should get better before it gets worse for everyone. If anything serious would ever happen, he is sure they would both jump to action the very same moment and possibly cooperate way too well.

- Golden Cheese: she's not gonna become unnerved because of him, but she really has no reason to stay around him with him never talking, so if she has nothing to do she mostly leaves if they happen to be in the same room. — Silent Salt, once again, finds it worrying, how she reacts to White Lily. He finds himself wanting to get them through it but he knows he can't make Golden Cheese just change her mind. Otherwise, he doesn't really has a special opinion on her since they communicate as much as him and Hollyberry – that is, they almost do not.

Phew, I think got everything. That took quite some time but I got through it yaay

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #shadow milk cookie #mystic flour cookie #eternal sugar cookie #burning spice cookie #silent salt cookie #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #eldad faerie au #crk au #dark cacao cookie #hollyberry cookie #golden cheese cookie

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Bring the Storm

M! Djinn (specifically a Jann)/ F! Reader

(Originally posted on A03)

Djinn are known as genies here in the west. A jann was a specific kind of djinn who took on the form of a storm and, strangely enough, a white camel. They were one of the few who weren't actively malicious to humans. In fact, they gave them knowledge.

I didn't seen a lot of rep and thought I'd try it out.

(From the Monster's POV)

Old torches that had rotted long ago sputtered to life, illuminating your path as you entered the cave’s mouth. 

You took one and used it to light the way. Hands ran over worn-away walls, eyes flicking across ancient pictures and carvings. A tattered map was your only guide as you attempted to navigate the tunnels. 

I figured you would try to enter the treasure room, but instead, you moved toward the library. 

An ancient door creaked open with the softest touch. You found a place for your torch and began to look through the shelves. Feverish fingers pushed between books, your breathing labored as you tried to find the right ones. 

As I crept closer, I could catch the scent of you. The way your hand rested at the curve of your neck, your eyes crinkling as you tried to read the spines of tomes long forgotten. Hear the sound of them being moved from the shelves and to a table. I flitted just out of sight, stirring the pages and papers. 

You were so entranced by the collection, I don’t think you would have noticed anything short of them bursting into flames. 

Once you’d gathered enough, I dared venture closer. I thought your attention would be elsewhere. 

Instead, you whirled around to face me. 

The grin across your face would have lit up even the darkest of rooms. So genuine… So… Overjoyed. 

We stared at one another, studying the other’s form. Slowly, you reached up to touch me. When your fingers brushed against my chest, I was a puff of smoke, my form apparating to a darker part of the library. 

Your eyes lit up, and you then began to follow me, questions running from your mouth like a broken dam. No fear. Only curiosity.  

Not about what I was, that you seemed to have already figured out. A Djinn was a rare sight. Jann even more so. I expected, fear, revulsion, begging me not to end your life. 

Instead, you asked my name. 

I told you it, reluctantly. You repeated it and smiled. 

Then, came the inquiries about the library. What ancient knowledge lined the shelves? Could I translate things written in forgotten languages? Was I present for certain events? Did I know famous figures in your history? 

You counted off on your fingers, comparing conflicting reports, and which side you found had more merit. The questions soon started again. 

They came too fast for me to properly answer, so I put a small cloud to your lips. 

Your eyes still glowed, not wanting to waste the opportunity. Lips moved against me, letting warm breath roll over my twisting form. But you remained silent if eager. My eyes drifted to the contact, and I slowly retracted. 

I informed you that I would answer three questions, in exchange for something of equal value. 

That gave you pause. 

What could a creature like me, entombed with treasures and tomes that no human could use in their entire lifetime, possibly consider a fair price to pay? You looked ready to give up your very soul for a chance to peruse the shelves. 

You nodded, now much more cautious with your curiosity. You retreated back to the books, determined to find what you could on your own. A breeze rolled over your shoulder as I, too, read along. 

If you noticed, you were too polite to say. Although you did shift so the tome could be seen from behind. 

Hours passed, pen scratching over the paper as you translated ancient words. You called for me. I never left your side, but still made a show of appearing at it. 

You told of a beast that terrorized your village, and that there seemed to be no way to defeat it. It had dried your wells and withered your crops, leaving everyone at its mercy. 

It would hold off its attacks and replenish the resources with the sacrifice of one unmarried woman a month. There was no doubt they were being sent to their death… Or worse. 

But it was better to knowingly sacrifice one than risk the entire village, the elders had rationalized. 

The ancient texts showed nothing and I could tell your task was urgent. 

Preparing, you pulled out a journal, pen hovering over the paper. The tip of your tongue pressed down in sync with the pen, the blot of ink starting to bleed. 

I reminded you of the price. Nothing in life ever came free, after all. 

The fire in your eyes remained, and I was sure even the worst storm couldn’t extinguish it. 

So, I took the pen and papers from you and set them down on the table. 

You seemed concerned, almost frightened, but you had a resolve. The line between bravery and stupidity grew thinner as I circled around you. Books flew off shelves, pages flipping to show ancient beasts. Scrolls unrolled and encircled you. Powerful winds threw your body around, threatening to slam you into the shelves.

Fists balled, you shouted at the growing storm to name its price. 

The dark clouds forming began to show images. 

The water returned after a stone was removed from each pathway, a task that could easily take twelve people. 

The crops flourished when a minion of the beast was killed, while it was small, it proved to be fast and nimble, scampering out of sight. 

And finally, the fall of the creature at the hands of a much larger shadow. In its place, a new being stood over the village as a protector. 

Three questions. Three answers. One price. 

“There are people to move the rocks blocking the water. People to kill the creature in the fields. But who will bind the new protector of the village?” 

The storm cleared, and I appeared in front of you. My touch was a light breeze as I cupped your face, brushing over your lip. You took me into your mouth, the tip of that tantalizing tongue tracing, sending a chill through my form. 

Who would have thought such a tongue would have more than a talent for words? 

Your eyes shimmered with the one thing you desired more than knowledge. Power? Or something more… Primal? But you had found your answers, and you were willing to pay the price. 

Clothes and inhibitions slipped away, and you stood before me, naked as the day you were born. Years of living in the desert had never left me feeling so heated.  

I could feel myself forming, tailoring myself to your every desire. Down to the last eyelash. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. Nothing ever is. I was still mostly fog, but enough to get the job done. The small taste we’d shared was only the beginning. 

Papers flew in the air as we slammed into the nearest bookshelf, our lips meeting. Your very breath became my own. Legs wrapped around my waist, hands tangling in smoke that became solid at your touch. 

Your thighs and calves slipped down me, before I wrapped my newly formed hands around them and I ground my hips. A moan passed your lips, the sound vibrating through me. In it, I could see a brief flash into your mind, the carnal need that you had long suppressed.

Then, I ran my hands up your body, following every slight curve and angle, before seizing your wrists and holding them above your head. They lifted you up the shelf, becoming manacles and leaving your legs dangling. I wrapped them around my shoulders. 

My newly formed mouth mingled with your lower lips. The conversation between us was rather one-sided, but I don’t think you minded listening to what I had to say. 

My tongue plunged in, drawing a sigh or moan out of you with each lick. Despite how quiet you attempted to be, each noise was an explosion in my ears. It showed me a flash of memory, a piece of your being. So much to learn... 

Fingers formed and became more refined as they continued to explore, going deeper than my tongue ever could. And what wonderful sounds they drew from you. 

What great scholar doesn’t make sure that his findings are thorough and sound? Checks all his sources, and makes sure to cite them. My hands and mouth hungrily researched, making sure to take note of every sigh and whimper that they drew from you. 

You shook, breath hitched, sweat glistening on your skin in the torchlight. Like a sacrifice to be made, but to a different beast than expected. Fog caressed your flesh and you cried out, calling my name, citing the source of your pleasure over and over again. 

What a good little student. 

When I felt that my mouth and fingers had done enough work, I slowly released you.  Sliding down safely into my arms, your legs wrapped around my waist. Far more securely this time. 

I held you close, fingers tangling in your hair. Burying my still-forming face into your neck, I inhaled your scent. Warmth mingled, the thundering of your heart signaling your own storm building.  

And I wanted to be caught up in it. 

Our lips crashed together again, your nails raking down my back. When we parted, your teeth clamped down on my neck and shoulder. You refused to let up as if you were afraid I would cease to be solid if you allowed me a moment’s respite. 

What a wonderful sensation it was. Feeling the heat of your breath, the rumbling in your throat as the primal side of you teased, seeing the hunter’s glint in your eyes. 

Hips ground into mine, a new bit of research needing to be done. 

Your back pressed to the shelf, arms and legs entangled around me. It was a sight that I wouldn’t forget. I leaned in, covering your mouth with mine. You eagerly plunged your tongue in, exploring just as I had. 

My hips rolled, and I could feel you tighten around me. A perfectly formed addition, sliding so easily inside you. Not one to rush into things, I teased. Sliding in just enough to make you writhe, trying to slide down onto me, before pulling back again. You clutched me even tighter, eyes clouding over with ecstasy. The impatience was returning, but you wanted it to last. 

I gradually let more go in, and you rewarded me with moans and sighs. Each sound stoked something inside me, and I could feel myself start to give in. 

My tongue probed as I thrust, allowing myself to finally drown in the sensation of you. 

You took me all the way inside, a catching breath coming to your lips. The new sound drew my attention, for I feared that I had harmed you. Instead, your fingers laced at the nape of my neck. You had come this far, and you were prepared to ride out the storm. 

 With that, our forms became one, fog and skin twisting and entangling with one another. The sweat and condensation covered both of us, making us slick, forcing one to cling tighter to the other. 

As I continued to thrust, your moans turned to screams of pleasure. You held onto me so tight that I feared I wouldn’t be able to move. But I pressed you firmly against the shelf, determined.  

Each time you took me in, I could feel the bond growing, tying us closer and closer together. Until it felt like a millstone around my neck. The tantalizing answers to questions unasked, just out of my reach. 

You had turned the tables on me. But rather than demanding a price, you held the answers just out of reach. 

We slipped from the shelf. I caught us, your body levitating inches from the ground. I began to thrust in earnest, bringing you into the air, forcing you to cling even tighter to me. Once more, you brought me to the brink, tantalizing me with the answers. 

I felt it slip by, fingers brushing before it was yanked away. I unraveled, spilling all I had inside you. I don’t know how much of it you were able to take or comprehend, but I could feel the change start within you. So much power and knowledge dumped inside a mortal, it was a miracle you survived. 

Thankfully, I was able to stay solid enough to guide you to the floor rather than drop you. 

As you laid on the ground, I formed a protective cloud around you. Unneeded, probably, but to let you know I was there. Your labored breathing filled my ears, and I craved the physical form again. An amorphous hand grabbed yours. And as you slipped into slumber, you clutched it tight. 

The next morning, once you’d dressed, we exited the mouth of the cave. 

The fire in our eyes was back, this time making your eyes glow in the darkness of the night. More determined than ever to bring the storm back to the village. 

#monster lover #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #monster x reader #djinn #genie #djinn x reader #writeblr #monster smut #genie x reader

[misty--nights]

So I'm watching the show yet again (usually I struggle watching shows, I don't know how I've managed to watch it twice already and still want to watch it a third time), and here are some things that I've noticed in episode 1, after the read more because it got longer than expected.

Charles calls himself the brawn and the protector of the two, but it's Edwin who goes all serious and says "I would not let that happen" when Charles asks what they'd do if Death came for them. I'm sure/concerned that he'd try to fight her if she ever came to take them...

Edwin knits!! When they are wearing their disgusses to get the demon out of Crystal he knitts while Charles reads the newspaper. Granted, you can only see him doing for a short moment, so I don't know if he's doing it properly, but I like to think he is. I have many thoughts about this, but it would take over the whole post. I'm still willing to make a whole post for it if anyone is interested but yeah. Bottom line is, Edwin can knitt!

The tone of voice that Crystal uses when she first wakes up in the Agency and in her walk with Charles is really different to the tone she uses the rest of the season. In hindsight, it's pretty obvious that is her mean girl tone, but still, I just think it's a nice detail.

Edwin takes Crystal's coffee cup when she takes the mail? We've just stablished he's not going to drink it, so is he just being petty? Is he going to throw it away or hide it just to be a nuisance? Is he investigating what she got? This boy, I swear...

I know people have pointed out all the Clue boards in the closet, but there's also a ouija board there? Hilarious. Maybe some ghosts prefer communicating with that instead of speaking? Or Charles got it because he thought it was funny and then never got rid of it?

I like that the thing that convinces Edwin to take the Becky Aspen case is Charles asking if he's going to let a little girl die. But more importantly, the title card right after that says "three flights". I've had this question for a bit, but what do they do during those flights? Do the boys spend those just standing in the hallway next to Crystal's seat? Do they sit in the cockpit? Do they hide in the bathroom until someone comes to use it? Do they hope for empty seats they can use? I don't know, every possible version of their trip is so funny to me. I know ghosts don't get tired like alive people, but the idea of them just standing awkwardly off to the side for more than 10 hours is hilarious.

No big detail here, I just love Crystal's purple coat thing she wears in this episode. Never really noticed that it has like flowers embroidered at the bottom, and the color of the whole thing is so nice.

"Maybe he's our fucking demon now." Crystal I love you, that is one of the funniest lines in the episode. I also really like that she gets to be angry and scared. Even if later Jenny talks her down from the worst it, it's not her anger that she points out, it's the fact that people are just like that and how the boys act is nothing personal. Her anger is not directly attacked (except by Edwin, but that's just him being petty), because she gets to be angry about all that's happening to her.

The flashback to Edwin's life at St. Hilarion's changes the video aspect (is that the proper term for that? It makes the screen square like in older films is what I mean.) Also he card for that flasback specifies "Edwardian England" even while having the date at the bottom. I don't know, it made me chuckle that they felt the need to clarify the era even while having the date there. They don't put "modern day England" for Crystal's flashback.

With the way the cat reacted to the sardine, I'm willing to bet he would have told Edwin everything without the binding spell if Edwin had a few more fish for him.

When they're talking behind the shop and Crystal says she gets angry, Charles looks down and takes a bit to respond. I think this is the first time he relates to her. The first time he can call that pull twards her something more than mere attraction. He has this very vulnerable look when she says it and then immediately shows her his parents and tells her something he's never told anyone before? This boy saw his anger in someone else and thought maybe it's fine for him to be angry too.

Is it a trick of the light in the scene where she meets Niko, or does Crystal have a septum piercing?

"If you're sticking around, you gotta let us in." Charles, I love you, but you are the last person who should be saying this. Specially after that sad look he gets when Crystal says it must be hard not being able to talk or hug his parents. You just agreed to what she said, as if that were the truth of why you check on them, what do you mean "you gotta let us in"? (I do get that they haven't known each other for long so he's not going to open up about all his trauma, but precisely because of that, it's wild for him to expect her to do it.)

I never noticed Charles quickly returning the mirror to normal when Edwin comes. I'd noticed the audio cue for the mirror changing back, but I never noticed Charles moving to do it and he looks so panicked about it.

Considering how Edwin is about touch, the fact that he lets Crystal take his hand when she tells the that the case matters is huge.

Why are they planning down at the shop when they have Crystal's room all to themselves? Besides the ambiance, of course. I think Jenny's reaction is completely justified.

Esther leaves her turntable on when she goes to the post office. Is it for Monty? The atmosphere? Did she just forget?

Not a new discovery, just a reminder of something I really like. There's this very specific editing thing (like the quick cuts between the instruments and then the opened lock, I don't know what to call it) that they do pretty much every time Charles picks a lock / opens a door, and it makes me very happy each time. The sound they use for it is perfection.

Edwin's attention to detail is insane. The fact that he can recall one cupboard is further forward than it was in the plans is really impressive.

Charles sounds so done when he throws the magic backpack. "Put her in the bag-of-tricks backpack." Man, I can hear the eye roll in that sentence. Good to know Edwin isn't the only bitchy one in this relationship.

And that's it for episode 1. I think I might do this for the others as well as I watch them. It was really fun to do, and it forces me to pay attention to the details, so I think it's worthwhile.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #jenny green #esther finch #niko sasaki #my writing

[not-freyja]

LU Write-A-Thon

This our second monthly LU Write-A-Thon, spearheaded by @hotcheetohatredwastaken and myself, will run on July 1, 2024 from 12 am to 12 am GMT (7pm to 7pm EST starting June 30). There is one goal in mind with this event---write as many productive words within that day as humanly possible.

Originally a fun game amongst friends, we are now opening this up to the general fandom-body-public (and happily so) by popular demand!

The event will be hosted on discord, and the link will go out via a reblog/reply/edit combo on this post a few hours before the event starts.

We're so excited to have all of you come and write with us, and the event rules are right here blow the cut:

What counts as writing?

Writing fanfiction or original fiction, leaving or answering comments, outlining, drafting, storyboarding, personal journaling, and (writing) homework---basically, anything that furthered yourself, the LU writing community at large, or your stories with a positive word count, can be included in your final word count.

(Editing previously-written works can also be included, but only if it produces a positive word count, and only those new words may be counted. The goal is to get new words on the page).

What CANNOT be counted as writing?

General chatting, talking about already written works, etc, will not count towards your final word count. Words counted must, as previously stated, further yourself, the writing community, or your stories. This does not mean that you can't chat with your fellow writers---the ⁠⁠chaos-chat thread was created for such a purpose!---but the main goal of this event is to produce and engage in writing in one form or another.

What is a sprint, and what is the schedule for the sprints?

Sprints are (voluntary) periods of concentration in which writers will write as much as they can within a time limit, with some friendly competition to be the one with the most words by the end of the sprint. These will be hosted in the ⁠⁠sprint-bot thread. Every hour, the times :00 to :15 will be dedicated to a 15 minute rest, and then a 45 minute sprint will run from :15 to :59. Moderators will start the sprints periodically---writers can jump in as desired.

Do you have to participate in the sprints?

No. You can write on your own if you wish, just make sure to keep track of your total and only count what is written in the window of 12am to 12am GMT (7pm to 7pm EST) on July 1. Additionally, you can write in the suggested breaks between sprints, but again, make sure to keep track of your word count on your own then.

How should I count my words?

There are two main ways that you can count your words---using the Sprinto Bot in the ⁠⁠sprint-bot channel, or keeping track of them yourself. If you are keeping track of them yourself, especially if you're counting words other than fiction writing where your word count is easy to find, please take care to be as accurate as possible---you can use an application like Google Docs or Word to give you your exact word count, even if you have to copy and paste your ao3 comments into them to get it.

If you're handwriting, this gets a little bit rougher to calculate, but we'll encourage you to give it your best estimate.

We'll be on the honor system here: play fair, and report as accurately as possible.

Where/When should I report my words?

Final word counts will be reported in the ⁠⁠word-count-total channel. We encourage you to make ONE post at the beginning of the marathon with your word count; then, as the event continues, you can edit your post and update your word count there.

You can update your word count at any point during the marathon in the channel mentioned above---in fact, the breaks between sprints would be a great time. And once the event is over, there's a period of grace of up to 6 hours for everyone to get their word counts in, but no more writing is allowed during this time. After 6 hours (6 am GMT; 11pm EST), the thread will be locked, and no more additions will be made. So be sure to get your final count in as soon as possible, once the event is over (or even before, if you must dip early).

What if I can only write a little?

That is fine. We are going to be playfully competitive, but it is not a contest---it is a group project. We are using teamwork to make the line go up. Every word counts, and any amount of writing is a fantastic amount of writing. The goal is to do better than last time AS A GROUP, not individually. So do what you can, and be sure to have fun with the rest of us!

WORD COUNT TO BEAT: 88,978

#lu fic #lu fanfiction #linked universe fanfic #fandom events #writing event #spread the word we are gonna get some words written #lu write a thon

[mumms-the-word]

in honor of that one post I can’t find for the life of me that’s like “not Gale with Tav but Gale with the Blackstaff librarian” please have this snippet of a thing I will never finish you’re welcome

Gale x fem!OC, no tags, just two academics being snarky with each other

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When Gale approached the library, he found his way blocked by several—no, many whispering students and annoyed-looking professors all blocking the way. They were pressed as far as possible in tight packs around an open doorway, the library visible beyond, but not a single one would go inside.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, looking at one of the students he recognized.

“Oh! Professor Dekarios, it’s the new librarian. She just arrived today and she’s not letting anyone into the library.”

“No one? That seems a bit antithetical to the point of a library, don’t you think?”

“She says she’s reorganizing,” another student broke in, looking delighted by the chaos. “She’s already thrown out anyone who crosses the threshold and is threatening to seal the doors if anyone else enters to disturb her.”

“Is that so,” Gale said, raising his eyebrows. She sounded horrible. He couldn’t help but picture a matronly old woman, set in her ways, her hair in a strict and severe bun of gunmetal gray, jowls nearly to her shoulders. “Well, allow me to have a word with her.”

His announcement, though spoken at regular volume, sent a wave of tittering and excited whispers over his students. He ignored them as he waded between them to get nearer the door. One of the other professors saw him coming and quickly arranged the students around the door to get out of his way.

“You’ll not get through to her, you know,” his colleague warned. “She’s on a rampage in there and she seems to have focused all her magical study to the art of marching people directly out of her space.”

“Then I’ll try to be diplomatic and charming,” Gale said, a spark of his old hubris coloring his smile. He stepped over the threshold and into the library.

It was utter chaos, for lack of a better word. Nearly every shelf was empty of books, completely bare, while mage hands with dusters and cloths were busy dusting and cleaning the centuries-old wood. The books themselves were arranged in stacks of no real order or sense, some just three books high but many others towering as nearly as high as the first landing of the four-story room. Solitary books flew through the air at random intervals, coming to rest on top of one stack or another. The towering busts and statues of previous Blackstaffs and other wizards of note were also being thoroughly cleaned, though their bases also served to collect all the furniture in the room, apparently, save for the tables that were all but groaning under the weight of stacks of tomes. Gale had never seen the library in such a state of disarray.

No sign of the enigmatic librarian, though. He ventured further inside, glancing here and there to try and find her, again picturing the strict, no-nonsense older woman with a face like thunder.

At last he found a younger woman floating midway up a three-story set of shelves, her open robes billowing gently as her flying spell kept her aloft, her trousers tucked into her knee-length boots. She pulled a book from the shelf and turned it to examine the title on the spine, and then opened it to the first several pages.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I’m looking for the new librarian?”

She sighed and snapped the book shut with one hand, turning to peer down at him with a frown. “Yes?”

“The new librarian. Is she about?”

She looked at him as though he were being willfully deaf. “She’s floating approximately three feet and seven inches above your head, saer. Can I help you or are you simply here to complain about my methods like everyone else that has made it past those doors today?”

Gale blinked. “You? But I thought—”

“Did you need something, Professor?” she asked, cutting him off. “I’m assuming you’re a professor and not a student, since you’re wearing the academic stole and all that. Is there a book you require?”

A quick flash of irritation passed through him at being interrupted, but he quelled it. He’d traveled with more abrasive people in the past, he reminded himself, who were also prone to interrupt.

“Not one in particular,” he said. “I’m here to discover…well whatever it is you’re doing in here.”

“Whatever it is I’m—Oghma guide me,” she muttered. She sent the book floating away with a flick of her wrist and lowered herself to stand in front of him. “I am cataloguing. What does it look like?”

Gale paused. Now that she was properly before him, he couldn’t help but notice that she was rather lovely. And young, for someone put in charge of the entire library of Blackstaff Academy. She was several inches shorter than him, but that didn’t stop her from frowning up at him behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, her dark hair swept up into a mass of tight curls at the back of her head. Little curls were escaping here and there to frame her face or trail down her neck, but she didn’t seem to notice. Behind her glasses, her eyes were a curious shade of green and gold, the color changing slightly as she shifted her weight and a soft shadow from one of the shelves fell over her. The rest of her was still bathed in the warm light of early afternoon, a shade that complimented her dark olive skin.

She looked particularly irritated now and Gale realized he had been staring, rather than answering her question.

“I, um…” He quickly tried to recall her answer, and as he did, it struck him how ludicrous it was. “Sorry. Cataloguing?”

“Yes.”

“This library was already catalogued. Thoroughly.”

“Correction,” she said, turning to pick up two books from a stack and glance at their titles. She sent them floating away in different directions. “This library was already poorly catalogued. I’m cataloguing it properly.”

She walked away, moving to another set of shelves that she hadn’t yet touched. Gale followed after her, speaking as he went.

“With all due respect, it looks as though you’re doing a great deal of unnecessary shifting around. The current system has served us well enough these past, oh I don’t know, three or four hundred years or more. There’s no reason to change a system that works.”

“So I’m to believe we should just let old systems lie rather than improve them with new ones?” she asked, tucking a few books into her arms. “Come now, saer, that goes against the very spirit of academic and magical progress. And you call yourself a professor?”

“I am a professor,” he said, irritable. “Professor Dekarios. And I have enough sense to know that Mordenkainen’s Magical Theory Across the Twin Worlds goes in the M section.” Here he grabbed a book from the shelf right before she could collect it, holding it up as if it were proof.

“In the old system, perhaps,” she said, snatching it from his hands. “But in this new system it will go under section 300, subsection 20, sub-subsection 4 point 17 for non-practical magical theory from authors located outside the realm of Toril—”

Gale’s jaw dropped. “Non-practical? How—”

“—and I’ll thank you to cease disturbing me so I can put it in its proper place,” she finished with a huff, blowing some of her curls from her forehead. She sent the book away, arcing it high over his head so he couldn’t make another grab at it.

“Now see here,” he said, struggling to remain diplomatic.

“No, Professor Dekarios, you see here,” she said, bowing up and shifting her books to one arm to poke a finger in his chest. “Blackstaff Varja has tasked me with the revitalization and re-categorization of this library, a job I take very seriously, and I won’t have pompous, big-headed wizards swanning about telling me how to do my job!”

Gale could barely get the words out. “Pompous? Big-headed? Madam, you—”

“If you require a specific tome to study, by all means, let me know so that I can locate it for you, but if your business is simply to bother and berate me then I’ll be forced to eject you from the premises.”

“Eject me? You wouldn’t dare.”

“You wouldn’t be the first, I assure you,” she said, her eyes flashing.

He shook his head, irritation warring with something like awe in the face of her ability to be unrelentingly annoying. “You are—infuriating. How will the students and faculty here get any study done if all the books—” he pulled another one from the shelf, using it to gesture, “—are in the wrong places?”

“They will learn,” she snapped, reaching for the book, but he held it high overhead, just out of her reach. She nearly crashed into him, nose-to-chest, reaching for it. She quickly stepped back with another huff. “Return The Many Multiple Uses of Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion to me at once.”

“Only if you put it back in the M section,” he said, keeping it aloft. “Where it belongs with the other Mordenkainen works.”

“But Mordenkainen didn’t write—oh for Oghma’s sake.” She slammed her armful of books down on a new stack and snapped her fingers, whispering a spell he didn’t catch. The book tugged away from his hand. Surprised, he let it go, and it flew directly into her waiting arms.

“I think that’s quite enough library time for you, Professor Dekarios,” she said sharply, hugging the book to her chest. “You are to be banned from this library for the remainder of the evening. Good day, saer.”

“You can’t—”

But apparently she could. All of a sudden he felt the back of his robes pull taught, as if an unseen hand were grabbing his robes like a tressym might grab the scruff of their kitten’s neck. The force pulled upward, nearly lifting him off his feet, and he was forced to take several awkward steps away, back toward the entrance of the library.

“I—you—unhand me!” He struggled against the hold as was about to cast something to dispel the magic when he felt something suspiciously like an invisible boot give him a kick on the arse. “Hey!”

“Good day, Professor Dekarios,” he heard her say behind him.

He was forcibly pushed out through the open doorway, nearly falling over into the waiting crowd of wide-eyed students. He adjusted his robes in a hurry, ready to march back in there and try again, but the library doors shut with a loud bang and soon the magical sigils to an arcane lock illuminated the surface.

No one would be getting inside now.

There was a hush behind him as he stared at the library doors, hot embarrassment turning his ears pink while his pride, unable to suffer total defeat, looked for ways to make light of the situation or diffuse it. After a moment, someone started to snicker and it caused the entire waiting audience to struggle to hold in their delighted snickers and giggles.

“Well,” one of his colleagues said, folding their arms, but Gale held up a hand with a sigh.

“Don’t,” he said. “The mortification speaks for itself.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re the sixth faculty member she’s done that to today,” they said, unable to withhold a chuckle. “Though out of all of them, you’ve lasted the longest.”

“And we’re to endure her being our new librarian?” Gale asked, as other professors began to shepherd away the students, reminding them of their homework and studies. “Is it too early to consider a new teaching placement?”

His colleague just laughed and walked away. Gale was left standing in the hallway, watching the arcane lock sigils glow and glimmer against the wood of the door.

He wanted to be angry, even offended. The entire re-categorization of a library as old and complex as Blackstaff Academy’s would spell chaos and slow down every pursuit of study for months. But as he watched the sigils, as his minds eye placed him back among the stacks of books and empty shelves, his memory lingering on one dark curl resting against the curve of the librarian’s olive-toned neck, another bouncing at her temple, he realized he wasn’t exactly angry or offended.

He was intrigued.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale #my fic #bg3 fic #sassy librarian is sassy #anyways this was fun and random please enjoy #no edits we die like men #I wrote this in an hour and a half can you tell

[nenilein]

Remember when I did the survey about making keychains?

Well, it is time!

I am using Etsy right now, but there were already some issues, and if there are anymore I miiight switch to Shopify... We'll see. For now, please purchase under this link!

Q&A:

"Did you design these?"

Yep! Every single keychain was designed and drawn by me. Manufacturing was done by Vograce, a reputable company that works with Artist Alley artists.

"Why is shipping so much?"

Sadly, I can't do much about that. I ship from Austria, and tried my best to keep international shipping as low as possible while still using bubble wrap etc., but this was my limit. If I find a better way to ship than Austrian Post that might change.

"The bundles on offer are weird..."

They're like this due to the limited stock I have for this run. Sig was disproportionately popular in the survey I took, so I expect he'll sell out before the A-girls. Hence why he's only in the full set bundle or as a solo.

"Are there only these 4 designs?"

For now, yes. This is a bit of a test run, so I only made the four most requested designs and only manufactured 15 of each. Depending on how quickly this run sells out, I may make more and do more designs. It's all up to how this run goes!

"I want X character!"

Which new characters I make will depend on the survey I took waaay back when I first announced these plans. If there is demand, I might retake the survey. Currently, it looks like the next characters in line would be Schezo, Lemres, Draco and Ecolo.

"How big are they?"

63.5 millimeters long and 5 millimeters thick. One side is epoxy, which makes it more resistant to scratches, and thus perfect for everyday keychain use, and not just as a display item!

"What does the backside look like?"

Same as the front side, but mirrored. Though, for Ringo and Sig I also made sure that their asymmetrical features are on the right side on both sides. :-)

"Do you do art commissions?"

Currently only on case by case basis. You can always try and send me an ask, just to be sure.

#neni arts #puyo puyo #puyo #puyo pop #puyopuyo #madou monogatari

[steviewashere]

Hello, since you're taking prompts, I'm here humbly requesting anything with autistic Steve because I adore him and he's relatable af. Steddie, heavy on the comfort? Other than that, whatever you like, I'll love it :)

Wooo!! I wrote this in like three hours because I was on a roll, so I'm excited to share this!

Rating: Teen and UpCW: Meltdown, Overstimulation (Not That Kind), Some Negative Stimming, Mild Internalized AbleismTags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson

Also on AO3

💕—————💕 His t-shirt was too tight. Had it shrunk in the wash, he initially asked himself. Is this not even mine? But when he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, reflected back at him was the same burgundy colored t-shirt, softly worn and sweat stained, a big graphic stretched across the chest that read: ‘Go Bulls, Go!’. Where this thing came from, he doesn’t remember, but it’s kept him comforted and grounded throughout the years.

Steve had a particular wardrobe. Maybe a bit peculiar to the normal, wandering eye. But to him, his clothes made perfect sense. Every pair of jeans was just a size bigger than he needed them, to give him the extra give. All of his white boxer briefs were made of cotton, because the silky type were always too constricting. His socks had holes and patches on them—worn over and over and over again, folded inside out so that the seams didn’t catch under his toes, but they were the perfect level of softness that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Polos made of cotton. Henleys the same. And his t-shirts, well they were soft, too.

In fact, Steve loves soft things. Loves loose things. Loves expected things.

But now his t-shirt is too tight. The t-shirt he thought of all of the last three days. A t-shirt he thought would look good with his light washed Levi’s—always worn on Thursdays for his day of errands. And looking at the little desktop calendar in his room, it is indeed Thursday. He planned this, but he neither planned nor considered the possibility of a clothing malfunction. His hands go to stretch the hem of the shirt, pluck it away from his body and make the fabric accommodate him. However, at the first tug, the loosely bound hem gives an unmistakable Riiiippp sound.

And…

Great, he thinks, I’ve just ruined one of my favorite shirts.

The t-shirt’s too tight, now ripped, and about to be retired. If only he could find something that works the exact same. Every t-shirt he tries on has some sort of error: too big, too ugly, clashing colors, won’t match the Adidas he picked out last night, stretched on the collar, so on and so forth. It’s Thursday, he thinks, it’s a busy day. Errand day. And now I have nothing to wear. Well, he has something. Not exactly what he planned. But if he doesn’t just put on a damn shirt, he’ll never get through his day, and if he misses out on the free time to take charge of the few errant errands—Steve’ll never get them done or he’ll get them done on a different day, a day where it’s noticeably not Thursday.

He snatches a yellow polo from the back of his closet. Dijon mustard colored. Too scratchy over the downy hairs on his belly. But he doesn’t have the time. Doesn’t have the time to redo his hair—three puffs of hairspray and he’d have to do a fourth, but four doesn’t fit, it’s not right, it’s too different. So he just settles. He’s got a schedule today, and damn the world for already trying to stop him.

Next on his agenda is breakfast.

Which, now that his head is shoved dutifully in the fridge and he’s rummaging around like a dumpster diving raccoon, he remembers that he has to go grocery shopping. Down to three large eggs, a couple bacon strips that didn’t crunch right the last time he ate them, and some cream cheese for bagels he can’t reason eating anymore. But he makes do. Again, settling—always settling, it seems. Because today just can’t go right.

Half-way through the eggs, his brain reminds him that he’s eating eggs. The texture going from wonderfully scrambled, not too soft and not too dry—to awfully rubbery and terribly bland and disgustingly charred. His bacon didn’t crisp right, so he won’t even attempt the few nibbles that lay out on his plate. And the bagel is just…staring up at him like the thousand eyes on every spider of his nightmares. Just the mere thought of cream cheese on his tongue has him wanting to hurl. So he tosses the rest, sets his plate in the sink, and wonders if he’ll even have the time to do the dishes—they aren’t piling by any means, but he didn’t plan this. He wanted cereal this morning. Had thought about the near glass like shards of Cap’n Crunch against the roof of his mouth, drenched in whole fat milk. But, again—You’re an idiot, he’s starting to chastise—he forgot that he needed to do a grocery run today.

Now that his stomach isn’t full and is left completely unsettled. Now that his shirt is scratching him and rough in all the wrong places. Now that more wrongs have been done to him than rights, he can woefully cart himself to the supermarket.

Only to get there and not find a spot. Well, one in the back of the parking lot is barely a spot. The one he hates parking in because he always has to walk two minutes longer than he needs to and sometimes the gravel from the nearby bushes is kicked up and then he steps on it and there’ll be a rock in the sole of his shoe. Like there is today because of course, of all days, there are little jagged gravel rocks for him to step on and feel through the soft, giving out soles of his sneakers. Of course, he thinks—riding over mildly irritated to extremely annoyed within seconds.

The grocery store is hell on earth, if it exists. Lights fluorescent and produce aisle sprinklers going haywire and the coffee grounds too fresh and the chatter of people incessant. Annoying.

He brought a paper slip with him. His chicken scratch identifiable to him. Reading:

Grocery List

Milk White Bread (Wonder, not Kroger) Peanut Butter (Jiff, not Skippy) Laundry Detergent - unscented Cat food (salmon this time, maybe that’ll lure in that stray?) Pasta (Thin spaghetti, penne, and farfalle) Parmesan (Preferably not in the jar, but whatever is cheapest) Potatoes Pop-Tarts? (Eddie’s favorite is brown sugar) Chicken Chicken nuggets

The cart he grabs has a wheel that squeaks the entire time he pushes it. Wonder bread is sold out by the time he gets to the right aisle. They really should say something when they change the layout of the store, he notes bitterly, stuffing a couple loafs of Kroger white bread into his cart. Skippy was the chosen option of the creamy peanut butters, simply because the Jiff wasn’t on sale anymore. On the bright side, salmon wet cat food wasn’t too expensive, even if he could only grab three cans. The Pop-Tarts are forgotten by the time he makes it back to his car. And the first paper bag has a handle that rips off almost immediately. And he forgot to unload the quite substantial amount of baseball supplies he brought to the park the other day—which means the bags are loaded into the backseat and he can only hope and pray that the milk doesn’t topple over and squish the bread or god forbid the laundry detergent somehow gets jostled the wrong way and spills all over his car.

He should’ve made another list of things he needs to remember he’d done. Would’ve been nice, he supposes, if he told his future self that the baseball equipment is still in his trunk. But, alas, here he is playing the same Tears for Fears tape again, listening to the baseballs clink off of each other. Thank god for the Tears for Fears tape, though—it’s the same one he’s listened to nearly every day since he bought it in 1983. At least that’s something to expect. At least it’s something he can rely on after the absolute shitshow he’s had today.

Though, maybe he should’ve expected having to pull over to the shoulder. In a car that chokes and gives up when he’s two-thirds back, half-way through his errands list, and completely done with everything. His hands are tight on the steering wheel. And there’s nothing but silence flowing around him. It’s like drowning, sitting here like this. For once, after everything he’s ever experienced and having so many bad days like this, he doesn’t know what to do.

A part of him, the overwhelmingly obvious part, wants to scream and cry and kick his legs out in front of him. Wants to dig the heels of his feet into the pure asphalt underneath the rubber tires of his stupid, unreliable car. Maybe tear the shirt right off his body and squish himself back to normal. But in the open, bright pool of sunlight, he can do nothing but just sit there. Head against the steering wheel, wet breaths through his nose, and a tightness in his throat that won’t rid even after his fifth swallow. Part of him wants to cry and cry and cry and never stop crying. And it sounds good. Not here, though. Not yet.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there before something knocks on his window. So, he rolls his head over to peer—not at all that gently, with enough force to drive a hard line into his skin. But when he catches sight of the person watching him nearly fall apart, he wants to cry impossibly more.

It’s Eddie. With his big, soft, concerned eyes. Hair tied up into a bun. Coveralls over his body, splattered with oil and other unidentifiable muck. Probably coming back from an early morning shift at the auto shop in town. He can help, maybe. So, Steve cranks down his window. Enough that Eddie can dangle his arms inside and crouch down to get a better looks.

“Stevie,” he softly greets. “You doin’ okay?”

Steve just shrugs. Makes some sort of noncommittal grunt. He works his jaw tight and tense. Mumbles, “Car broke down.”

Eddie hums, acknowledging. He looks over his shoulder briefly, leans to peer into the backseat, and then looks onto Steve again. “I can take a look, if you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t have enough money to get it fixed right now.”

“Baby,” Eddie sighs. His eyes go half-lidded with aching. He reaches out a tentative hand and gently traces his fingers over Steve’s left shoulder. Inching his way to his neck, where knots are surely forming. “It’s free of charge for you, you know that.”

“I just don’t care about it right now,” Steve lies. He cares a great deal. Cares that this has ruined his day. Has ruined the rest of his plans, but if he admits that, he’s sure he’ll cry. He’s not sure why that’s his first reaction: to cry and break things and flap his hands as if ridding the energy. Not sure why it hurts to look Eddie in the eyes right now. Why everything that’s happened has affected him so negatively. Why he’s so particular about his things to do and how he dresses and what he eats. But he knows he’ll cry if he explains.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters. His fingers are soothing over Steve’s shoulder. Light and airy and so soft, it makes Steve want to melt. “How about I drive you back? Help you unpack your groceries? We can leave this baby right here for now and figure out how to get it back to you later, alright?”

Wordlessly, Steve nods, hauls himself out of the driver’s seat, and helps Eddie unpack the bags into the back of his van. That part of him that wants to destroy flares alive inside of him. And he has to restrain himself from chucking the milk carton against the side of the van. But he gets into the passenger seat, silent and seething and mildly overwhelmed.

He gets angrier, though, as soon as Eddie’s radio blares to life. Heavy, obnoxiously loud drums and guitars and vocals fill the space. Instinctively, Steve’s hands shoot to his ears, covering them completely with his palms, digging his fingernails into the skin around them. Garbled, he makes a noise of great discomfort. Grits his teeth together. Squeezes his eyes shut until little speckles of black float in the corners. And hunches into himself, compact and an easy trick to consolidate himself. It doesn’t work, though. Nothing is working in his favor.

“Turn it off, Eddie,” he distantly hears himself snap, “turn it off!”

All at once, the music stops.

Steve sighs, not quite relieved, but easier. It’s still bright. And Eddie’s van smells a little bit like marijuana. And maybe Steve hasn’t smoked that in a little while because the scent is too intense and he never knows how to explain why the smell alone makes him want to scream, but it does and he knows part of that isn’t normal but he doesn’t know how to be normal and now he’s blown his cover all because of something petulant like music being too loud and now Eddie won’t want to date him because he’s being irritable and annoying and—

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s distant, raspy, soft voice calls. “Is it a migraine? Do you need some water?”

“No,” Steve answers tersely. “Just take me home, Eddie.” He can’t loosen himself from the tight hold, from the squeeze of his eyelids, from the tension in his fingers. But he’s probably making an ass of himself. Probably pissing Eddie off. “Please,” he tacks on, “please take me home, Eddie.”

Nothing else is said as the van rattles and grumbles, pulling away from where Eddie had been parked. There’s no words. No music. Eddie doesn’t fidget. Steve doesn’t think either of them breathe, really. And not only has he pissed Eddie off, but he’s starting to make himself angry. Why couldn’t I just be normal, Steve internally bemoans. I’m being annoying. And he shouldn’t be helping me. And I should’ve just called a tow truck. And I’m making a big deal out of nothing, just like Mom and Dad used to say.

And if he were in a different mindset, he could probably think about why that statement used to feel so miserable. When his parents would dismiss him. Send him to his room. Where he’d sob into his pillows and toss his books across the room and hide inside his closet because it’s the only place that truly felt safe. The closet, where the world couldn’t reach him, and the lights were all dark and he could hum as much as he wanted. Because nobody could find him. And nobody cared. And then he was warm, safe, the version of himself he felt he needed to be.

Eddie parks gently. He helps bring the groceries inside. And then he just stays. As if Steve didn’t just ruin everything. But he looks at him with those concerned eyes again, fidgeting with his fingers because he wants to reach out, about two seconds away from crawling out of his skin. Meanwhile, Steve’s pacing back and forth, squeezing his hands shut, eyes closed, breathing heavy through his nose.

“Is something wrong, Steve?” Eddie finally breaks.

Steve shakes his head quickly. “Long day,” he gets out.

Humming, Eddie takes a step forward. He tilts his head and attempts to make eye contact, but Steve averts his gaze. “Why don’t we sit down for a bit and take a little breather?”

“This is the wrong shirt,” Steve blurts, scratching at his stomach again. The shirt keeps rubbing up and down whenever he bends, whenever he moves for that matter. It’s starchy and too new. Too much, not enough. “And my hair is a mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” Eddie murmurs, “looks fine to me.”

“No. I messed it up this morning. Because I tried on all my shirts.”

“All of them?”

Steve nods hastily. “None of them were right. And that doesn’t make sense, I know, but it’s true. And I put three puffs of hairspray in, needed a fourth, but that’s not right either.” He angles his head up at the ceiling, furls and unfurls his hands a few more times before placing them palm down and flat against his chest. Wants to press down. Hard enough to remember, but not enough to bruise. So he does. Gives in. Allows himself this one good thing, the pressure, the hurt, the sizzling ache. “My breakfast was gross.”

“Yeah? What’d you have, baby?” Eddie gently asks.

“Why—“ Steve gasps, struggling. “Why are you fine with this?”

Taken aback, Eddie makes a soft noise. His eyes widen and he furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m being weird. I—You saw me! I was having like a little mini freakout in my car and then I got all mad at you and I was covering my ears and keeping myself tight and now I’m—Fuck, I’m going insane.

“Everything’s wrong. Everything is so wrong. My whole day is fucking wrong. Schedule got ruined. The clothes I planned out days ago didn’t work. My breakfast was bullshit and the grocery store didn’t have the right bread and Skippy is my least favorite peanut butter, but I had to get it because it was on sale and I forgot to get those Pop-Tarts you like even though I wrote them down on my stupid list but I don’t make enough lists because I forgot about the baseball stuff in my car and it shouldn’t have been there and that’s why I had to put the groceries in the backseat and the only good thing was my Tears for Fears album was still in the radio—And…Fuck.” Steve takes a haltingly loud gasping breath. He slams his hands over his chest, finally giving in to that innate urge he’s carried since he was a kid. Squeezes his eyes shut again, not wanting to see whatever hurt or disappointment or realization washes over Eddie’s face.

He continues, “I left the album in my car. The light’s too bright. I can…I can like hear the wiring in the fixtures. Everything. I’m feeling…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Steve babbles. His hands flex into his shirt, the fabric wrong on his skin. Fingernails scratching at it, trying to tear it off. Wants to crouch down onto his knees and hide between the corner cabinets, nestle himself in a dark place, cry until there’s nothing left to give.

The realization hits him all at once, he needs to get away. To the safe space he created. So he forces himself around Eddie, up the stairs, behind his slammed bedroom door. And he crawls the rest of the way into the deep, far side of his closet. On top of old blankets, underneath too small clothes. Rests his head against the wall. And just…sobs. 

His elbows rest upon his knees as he shields his face with his forearms. The sounds of his cries muffled by his own skin. He kicks off his sneakers and digs his feet into the pile of blankets underneath him. Trying to get rid of the itchy, swooping, nauseous ache from inside him. He doesn’t like this part of his bad days. Doesn’t like being alone. To be left with his own mess. But he’s not sure how Eddie will respond, so he figures this is better.

Though, that’s quickly proven wrong when Eddie carefully comes in, announcing himself as the door opens. He stops in front of the closet and crouches down. “Hey, Stevie? Is it alright if I’m in here, baby?”

Steve sniffles. “I…You’re not going to be mean, are you?”

“No, Steve. I promise I’ll be nice. I just…You seem really overwhelmed and I thought maybe I could help you a little bit.” He shuffles forward slightly, opening the closet door from inside. Peeks through the gap. Asks, “How?”

“Could give you a hug? But…I was thinking we could trade shirts first? Mine is pretty soft, kind of loose. I know that’s how you like your t-shirts, baby.” For good measure, he plucks his t-shirt and gestures for Steve’s.

“You’ll look like a dork.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be comfortable. So hand me your shirt and I’ll give you mine.”

Once they’ve exchanged shirts, Steve leaves the closet and sits with Eddie against the side of his bed. Sure, the mattress may be soft and feel nice, but the firm ground under him keeps him anchored. He leans into Eddie’s side, lets him drape an arm over his shoulders, and sighs into the hold. Eddie’s other hand comes up and he traces fingers over Steve’s hairline, featherlight but caring all the same.

“Does this help?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Sorry about…Well, being weird and getting all intense earlier.”

Eddie shrugs. “It wasn’t like that at all, baby. You had a bad day, nothing worked in your favor. I’m not going to fault you for reacting.”

“I was crying in my closet, Eds. That’s hardly normal.”

“I’d cry, too if I had the day you experienced.” He runs his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly over the tense knots that formed. “Is there anything I can do? Anything on your list that you need help with?”

Steve nuzzles his face into Eddie’s shoulder, cheek squished against the joint. Muffled, he says, “For now, can you just hold me for a while? Nobody’s ever comforted me like this after…Well, you saw what happened. But later, can you help me vacuum and mop?”

“I’ll hold you forever,” Eddie promises. “And I’ll exterminate all the dust bunnies you could ever think to encounter, nothing could make me happier.”

Something in him finally chips away. He’s not quite loose, yet. Not ready to release all the pent up negative energy he’s seemed to catch throughout his day. But he can believe Eddie, for the moment. He rests his head deeper into Eddie’s shoulder, lets himself fall into whatever song Eddie is humming, reaches out and grips firmly to one of Eddie’s hands. Plays with his rings, the smooth metal like a balm on the fatty part of his thumb. He relishes in how Eddie just lets him. Lets him, despite everything.

He can’t quite look Eddie in the eyes, not yet. Can’t force himself off the ground. Can’t quite get rid of that intense, drowning sensation that burbles in his chest—makes him want to cry and breakdown even further. And maybe he can, realistically. But later, he surmises, later he’ll do that, so long as Eddie continues to not mind.

The warmth of their shared bodies is nice. The softness of Eddie’s t-shirt against his skin. The gentle musk left on the collar from whatever cologne Eddie uses. Something with bergamot, a little bit of citrus, something like bourbon. He closes his eyes softly. There’s not much light flooding into his bedroom, just a stripe of golden sunlight from between his curtains, but that’s fine.

For the first time today, something is fine.

“I like this,” Steve quietly admits. “You being here with me through this, I mean.”

Eddie makes an acknowledging hum. “Whenever you need me, I’m a phone call away, sweetheart. I’ll come dashing over, your knight in shining armor, armed with the softest of t-shirts and the most delicious of snacks just for you, baby.”

Steve chuckles. A sound he thought wouldn’t be possible on a day like this. Despite everything, he smiles softly. “I’d love that,” he whispers, “I love you, Eds. Thank you for making me feel a little bit normal.”

“I love you, too, Stevie,” he responds, easy as that. “And I mean it, baby. I love you, I want to hold you and cherish you. You need anything, any time of day, you call me. Bad days are no joke.”

“Mmm,” Steve gently hums. “Maybe I should add cuddle time to my daily routine?”

“Maybe you should,” Eddie agrees. “I think that would be excellent for both of us.”

“Good,” Steve states quietly. He wraps his own arm around Eddie’s waist, pulls him in tighter, and tucks in close. “This feels right.”

💕——–——💕 Taglist: @hotluncheddie

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #autistic steve harrinton #angst and hurt/comfort

[mrs-gauche]

Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something… bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol” but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

#tinfoil time #da4 #red lyrium idol #solas #dragon age 4 #mythal #good god that got long 💀💀💀💀

[thesparkling-diamond27]

The Second Bridgerton And I: Part 4

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Y/n Clearwater becomes named the “Sparkling Diamond” by Queen Charlotte herself, but she doesn’t know what to do with all this attention. Of course she has her family, but sometimes that doesn’t seem enough. But what happens when she encounters a specific Bridgerton, which changes the course of her season.

Author’s Note: I am sorry for not updating sooner. When I posted chapter 3 I already had half of this chapter written, but I stated working recently and I have been reading the Bridgerton prequels (which are amazing by the way I highly recommend), so I have been a little busy. I am here now and I already have most of the next chapter written, so there should be another update really shortly. This story is also going to be a lot longer than I originally thought wave I planned to do about one chapter per episode and that plan is out the window. Especially since am adding scenes that are not from the show.

Author’s Note: This chapter includes scenes from season 3 episode 3 of Bridgerton. Down below is the link to the part 3. I hope you enjoy! Y/nn= reader’s nick name.

My family and I entered Lord Tremble’s house and it was quite different from other social events. This event was nothing like a ball and was more like an event to socialize and mingle with one another. I would definitely be glued to my families side tonight because I knew many people would approach me. Last ball I was able to completely occupy myself with Maxwell, but here it won’t be the case.

I wonder if Benedict and his family were here yet. He did say he was coming and all week I have been looking forward to spending more time with him.

My siblings and I were rather hungry and we made our way to the food table. As I picked my desired foods I couldn’t help but notice the deer heads that were hanging from the wall.

“Is it just me or are those deer heads watching us?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Adeline said, “but it sure seems like it. They are creepy. Let us hurry so we can leave them.”

Adeline and I hurried with our food selection and forced our brothers to do the same. The four of us then made our way across the room. It has been a while since the four of us passed the time with another and it brought back memories from our childhood.

“What are you thinking about Carina?”

Noah asked.

“Nothing.” I said. “I just missed this. The four of us all together.”

Alex put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Well we are not going anywhere little sister. Even when you want nothing to do with us we will still be here annoying you. And you will still be here annoying us when we want nothing to do with you.”

He said that in the most brotherly way possible and it warmed my heart. Adeline and Noah both gave smiles filled with the same message and meaning as Alex.

“So.” Adeline started, “How are things with you and Lord Tewkesberry? I’m assuming things are going well.”

“And here is where we take our leave.”

Alex said.

“Why?” I asked.

“We do not need to hear the two of you discussing men. We hear enough of that at home.” Noah said. “We will be over there in the corner in case you need us.”

Adeline and I both nodded in understanding and the both of them walked away.

“So. Lord Tewkesberry. How are things?” Adeline asked.

“Things are going well between us. The way things are going I am expecting him to ask to court me soon.”

“That is good.”

“How are things going with you and Lord Harvey?”

“Very well! I think he might propose before the end of the season!”

Lord Harvey asked Adeline to court her the day after the ball last week. They have been courting ever since and Adeline seemed content.

“Are you happy Adeline?”

“I am.” She said with a smile.

I smiled in return. We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Speak of the devil.

“Miss Clearwater. Miss Clearwater.” Lord Harvey said.

Adeline and I slightly curtsied while he bowed in return.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” He said towards Adeline.

“Of course!” She said excitedly. “Are you going to be okay all by yourself?” She asked me.

I wanted to say no. I did not want suitors to approach me and I would feel uncomfortable being all alone. I have also been on edge all day, and being left alone can possibly trigger me, but I did not want to hold Adeline back with Lord Harvey.

“Do not worry about me. You go on ahead.”

Adeline nodded and she placed her hand into Lord Harvey’s and they went to have more privacy. I found myself quite parched and decided to find a lemonade table.

The lemonade table was in a separate room tucked in the corner. It was the perfect place to hide away. I took a sip of the pale yellow liquid and it was refreshing.

“Miss Clearwater.”

I turned around and was startled when I saw three men standing in front of me. When did they get here?

“We’re sorry for frightening you Miss Clearwater. We simply wanted to talk with you.” Said Lord Clayton I believe.

“That is alright. I thought I was alone.”

I said.

“Well now that we have your attention, we are quite curious about you.” The second man said.

“Curious about what exactly?”

“About you.” The third man said. “What are your hobbies? What makes you tick?”

“Are you a morning person or night person? What makes you you?” The second man asked.

Lord Clayton started asking me a series of more questions, but I could not hear him. His words were blurred as if we were underwater. The questions from the three of them were all too much at once. I felt the oxygen slowly leave my lungs and I could not breathe. Tears started to fill my eyes. I had to get out of here.

I walked past the three men and tried to find a quiet private place to breathe. Several suitors tried to stop me, but I kept on walking. I even bumped into one of them, but I did not pay them any mind. I just needed to get out of here. I walked down the hall and opened the nearest door. It was empty, so I quickly shut the door and slid down to the floor. My tears continued to flow as I tried to control my breathing. This was not the first time I have had a panic attack, but it was the first time in a while. The solution for me to become well again is for me to be secluded until I felt like I was better.

After a while my breath evened and I could finally see clearly. I took a moment to look around the room.

To my right was a marble fireplace with the fire running and a portrait of Lord Tremble, I’m assuming, above. Towards the center of the room was a sofa and two chairs across which a coffee table in between. Behind the lounge area, facing me, were windows that were ceiling high. It had a windowsill to gaze at the view. The room was cozy.

I wiped my tears from my face when I was pushed forward by a force. I turned around and noticed someone opened the door.

“I’m sorry I hit you! I did not realize you were on the floor.”

It was a man’s voice, but it did not belong to my father or brothers. The door opened fully and Benedict stepped into the room

—————————

Benedict

I entered a room, with Eloise and Colin, and I saw Ms. Stowell and her mama noticing my presence.

Great! Just the two people I needed to see.

I turned to Eloise.

“If anyone asks for me, I am not here.”

I did not wait for her response and escaped. I wonder if Y/n is here, because she did say that she will be here. I started reading the book she recommended me and it was very interesting. Maybe we can talk about it. I definitely had some thoughts to share.

I walked into three entirely different rooms with no sight of Y/n. Maybe she has not arrived or I missed her. I noticed the table with alcohol and decided that that was the way to go for tonight. If anything was going to save me from the relentless mamas it would be this, but not too much that my mind will be too affected to function.

I took a sip of the amber liquid and it burned as it went down my throat. However it kept me in check and awakened my senses.

Suddenly someone bumped into me and I looked to see that it was Y/n. But something was wrong and she did not look well. I placed my cup on the table and went after her. She was walking fast past people, so it was difficult to keep up, and she made a left. I heard a door slam coming from an empty hallway. She was in one of these rooms.

I opened the first two doors and was left with empty rooms. I approached the third door and I heard sniffle coming from the other side.

She was crying and my heart clenched at the sound. Y/n deserved nothing, but good things. I could not bear to hear her cry and I knew I would not like seeing her cry if I was in the room with her.

I waited until her crying to die down before I opened the door, however I did not realize she was sitting on the ground and I accidentally hit her.

“I’m sorry I hit you! I did not realize you were on the floor.” I said.

Y/n looked at me from the ground and her cheeks were stained with dry tears. I quickly crouched down to meet her on the floor and pulled out a handkerchief from my coat pocket.

“Here.” I said softly.

Cautiously I dabbed under her cheeks and around her eyes. I caressed the side of her face with handkerchief and started into her eyes. They were the most mesmerizing e/c eyes I have ever seen, and I somehow saw my future when I looked into them. It was crazy to think of such things, but when her irises met my own I felt a sense of warmth and home.

I snapped out of my daze and handed her the handkerchief. She blew her nose and we fell into a comfortable silence.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I asked.

Y/n said nothing, but she stood up and walked over to sit on the windowsill. Her gaze upon the view below. I slowly raised to stand up and followed her to where she sat.

“The windowsill has always been a source of comfort for me. Whenever I am having a hard time, here I can find peace.” She said.

I nodded in response, but she did not look up at me,so I do not think she noticed.

“I had a panic attack. It has been a while since I had one that I forgot how exhausting it can be. The questions Lord Clayton ,and a few others, were bombarding me with and the immense pressure was all too much at once. I had to get away.”

“Do you feel better now?” I asked.

“I do not know.”

“What immense pressure do you struggle with Y/n?”

“Pressure from being the diamond. My family. Society. Especially society.”

“Why mainly society?”

Y/n stayed silent and I thought she would remain that way. Then she looked at me for the first time, during this conversation, and I saw frustration in her eyes.

“People in society want everyone to remain in a neat little tiny box. To fit in. But would if I do not want to remain in the neat little tiny box. Would if I want to explore outside the box. See what more life has to offer. Would if I want to break free from the restraints that society has put on me because I am a woman.” She said

I did not know what to say after that statement. As a man I knew that we were “more free” compared to women. Especially involving marriage. We had the choice to be unwed, while unmarried women are considered spinsters. I guess I never really thought of ideals of this nature because I am a man and those rules do not apply to me. I could never know what a woman goes through, but I wanted to understand for Y/n.

Y/n stood from the windowsill, walked towards the fireplace and continued.

“I cannot do that though, because as soon as I step out of that box everyone will cast me aside. They expect more from me because I am the diamond. I have to be perfect. I have to be the perfect mold of society. And it kills me every time I play the game. There are so many rules! You can dance with who you like, but it is rude to deny a dance if you have not already reserved one with another man. You cannot ask to court a man because you must wait for them to do so. You cannot dance with one partner too many times. If you are caught in a scandal the whole ton judges you.And so much more. When does it end Benedict? When?”

Y/n’s voice cracked at the end and I noticed she began to cry. I quickly rushed over to her from where I sat. I stood in front of her and she looked up at me. Her eyes glistening with tears. I slowly wrapped my arms around her and laid my head on top of hers. I slowly began to caress her back. It was only thing I thought to do without making her more upset.

“I know I cannot make things better, I said, “but I will do everything in my power to make you happy. As your friend.”

—————————

I pulled away from Benedict and thanked him. He nodded, but I can still see concern in his eyes. I freed my self from his embrace and cleared my throat.

“We should both leave this room before someone notices that both of us are gone and catches us here. I would not want anyone to get the wrong idea.” I said.

“That works with me.”

I noticed I was still holding his handkerchief and motioned for him to take it back.

“Keep it. It is yours.” Benedict said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I looked down at the white handkerchief and noticed that Benedict’s initials were beautifully sewn into it with blue stitching.

B.B.

“Thank you.” I said.

I looked up at Benedict and we both shared a mutual understanding. We will discuss this later. I folded his handkerchief and stuffed it into the top of my dress. I then made my way to the door, twisted the door knob and left the room.

I began to search for my family. This incident happened because I strayed from my family in the first place. I hope I look presentable because I did not want my family asking questions about what happened. Not when feelings from the situation was still fresh. I did not even ask Benedict if I looked decent. I regret not asking.

I entered the room with the deer heads and I saw my brothers in the corner. As I approached them they must have noticed my affected mood and appearance because they looked at me with concerned expressions.

“Are you okay Y/n?” Noah asked.

“Can…can I stay with you two for the rest of the night?”

“Of course.” Alex said.

They did not say anything, but I can tell by the looks on their faces that they would want to talk later on like Benedict.

—————————

The balloon was quite disappointing. For the past week, all throughout the ton, people have been talking about the giant ballon. That it was grand and majestic and could transport several people to other areas.

The balloon part was beautiful. I can tell that a lot of detail and time went into the design. The basket part on the other hand , was small and strong looking, but not grand and majestic. It could fit about two people if you want enough space to maneuver around and three people tops if you are content with little wiggle room. I would definitely not ride the balloon if I was in need to travel a long distance. I assumed it would be bigger.

“Come one! Come all! Watch man attempt to take flight! Soaring to nights never before seen!”

A man with a megaphone was shouting

these words as my family and I entered the area. I was wearing a light blue day dress with a pink sheer scarf wrapped around my shoulders. Blue was uncommon in my everyday wardrobe, so I was excited to wear such a dress. The fabric was light and breathable, which was perfect for the hot weather.

“Let us all address the queen.” My mama said.

I linked my arm with Alex and we carried on to Queen Charlotte.

“I thought the balloon would be bigger. At least able to fit more than three people.” I said.

“People always tend to use hyperboles with such things like the balloon.” Alex said.

“What kind of sweets do you think they would have?”

I motioned to the pink tent with a pink sign that said “Ms. Plaskitt’s Sweet Treats”.

“You always have room for sweets Carina.”

“There is always room for sweets Felis.”

“Hoping for macarons?”

“Of course!”

We both laughed in unison. Our walk came to a halt when we became within talking distance of the queen. She looked beautiful with her turquoise colored dress and her unique wig. Her wig was extremely unbalanced, but that didn’t seem to deteriorate her poise and elegance. Queen charlotte is always so calm and collected and manages to always keep people on their toes. I wonder if I can become a lady like her one day in the future.

I approached the queen with my sister and mama. My brothers and father close behind. I curtsied with as much grace as I had.

“Flawless my dear. As I expected.” Queen Charlotte said. “Have you been enjoying your season so far.”

“I have your grace.”

“Any updates on Lord Tewksbury?”

Queen Charlotte was asking if Lord Tewkesberry courted or not. My family and his family were the only few people who know about the news and I intend to keep it that way.

“No. I am afraid not.” I said.

“Pity. Hopefully he courts you soon. I do not want my efforts to be in vain.”

“What do you mean your efforts being in vain?”

“I was the one who insisted to your parents for you to pursue Mr. Tewkesberry.”

This was the first time I was hearing this news and it made me feel unsettled. I thought I had made a bond with Maxwell and it was I who decided that he was a man I would like to persue, but all this time that was not true. It made me feel like my parents did not trust me with making my own choices.

“I hope your generous efforts result with a beautiful match.” I said.

“As do I. Now enjoy the day my diamond. I do not want to hold you forever.”

I gave the queen a grateful smile and curtsied before leaving. I noticed my mama looking at me with a defeated look. Hoping I would look at her, so I can speak with her, but I was not in the mood at the moment. This shall be a talk for later.

I went on a search for Pen or Benedict. I knew both of them were on their way if they were not already here. Whichever one I see first shall keep me company. As I was walking, I came across the sweets tent again. Maybe they have lemon cakes or possibly macarons I thought.

I entered the tent and notice Pen with Colin. I was surprised to see them with one another after everything that has happened, but they are friends after all. Pen was the one to notice me first when she turned from Colin.

“Y/nn! How lovely it is to see you. Care to join me?”

She did not give me a time to respond and grabbed my arm to follow her.

“My goodness. Eager are we?” I said.

Penelope realized that she was pulling my arm and set me free.

“I’m so sorry Y/nn.” Penelope said, “I’m in an excited state. I am trying to locate Lord Debling.”

Penelope and Lord Debling hit it off the other night at Lord Tremble’s gathering. I was happy for Pen. I knew she was wrong with her headspace on marriage and I was glad I was able to prove her wrong.

“Let us find him then.” I said with a smile. Penelope smiled back and we began our search for Lord Debling. We made a roundabout around the balloon when I noticed Lord Debling conversing with Eloise and Cressida Cowper.

“Pen he is over there past the hill, but are you sure you wish to talk to him considering who he is with at the moment.”

“I cannot let people stop me from doing what I would like to do. If that is how people lived nothing would get done.”

Penelope began to walk towards Lord Debling and I admired her determination, because if I were in her shoes, I would be walking the opposite way. I quickly caught up with Penelope and we continued our way. When we were three yards away from them Penelope hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Maybe you were right. This is a mistake. We should head somewhere else.”

“No Pen! Let us—“

“Ah Miss Featherington. Miss Clearwater.”

We both turned to see the owner of the voice to be Lord Debling. Penelope seems stuck not knowing what to do, so I nudged her along to continue walking. As we walked towards them I noticed Eloise and Cressida looking not pleased with us joining them. There is free rein around the park, so both of them have to deal with it I thought.

“My Lord. We do not wish to intrude.” Penelope said.

“Nonsense.” Lord Debling said, “I am about to embark on another trip with no one, but my crew. Surely you two will not deny me the company while I have the pleasure of it.

“Of course not.” I said.

The conversation became extremely uninteresting. I believe Cressida mentioned the bird the great auk,but I cannot say for certain. I tuned out most of the conversation. The wind was blowing more strongly than before and it felt nice against the humid air. I was mentally counting how much money I have to purchase sweet treats when I heard Penelope say,

“I must prefer the natural world to the..unatural one. There is nothing I love more than…grass.”

I mentally face palmed at the mention of grass. This conversation was not going great for Pen. I was about to intervene and help, but Lord Debling stated.

“What about grass do you so love Miss Featherington.”

“Uh…how it is so…green.”

“It is quite green.”

Cressida was trying to hide her laughter while Eloise seemed sorry for Penelope. I could not tell how Lord Debling was feeling, but he did not seem to find Penelope’s comment about grass odd. Maybe it is due to him being odd himself, but I would never say this out loud.

As the conversation progressed the wind grew stronger and it caused my scarf to blow throughout the wind. I chased after it, but the wind blew it even further. I ran after it, but the basket of the balloon was coming towards me. I could either run towards the basket to retrieve my scarf or run the other way empty handed. The latter was more safe, but that was my favorite scarf . Who knows what can happen to it.

I heard Penelope shouting my name, but I ignored them. My mission was to retrieve my scarf.

From the other side of the ballon I heard men trying to pull the balloon the other way. Hopefully this can give me the leverage I need to reach my scarf. The ballon moved from the bottom of the steps up to the middle of the wooden platform and it gave me enough room to run as fast as I could to my scarf.

My hand wrapped around the silk fabric and as I stood I noticed the basket of the balloon coming straight towards me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

That is all I could think about as the balloon came closer. I heard Penelope shouting for me to move, as I shuffled backwards. I tripped over my feet and fell on the ground. I closed my eyes in fear as I waited for the balloon to hit me.

Suddenly I felt someone from behind wrap their arm around my waist to shield me from the upcoming balloon.

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #benedict x reader #eloise bridgerton #friends to lovers #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #cressida cowper #lord debling

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

How many relationships did Robespierre have and who were they? if you can tell a little about it

I’m currently working on compiling as much information as possible about Robespierre’s different relationships. Those I’ve done so far are:

The relationship between Robespierre and Saint-Just

The relationship between Robespierre and Desmoulins (btw, comparing the notes on this post and the SJ one, I think it’s pretty clear who has already won the shipping contest currently on…)

The relationship between Robespierre and Brissot

The relationship between Robespierre and Marat

The relationship between Robespierre (and his siblings) and the Duplay family

The relationship between Robespierre (and his sister) and Fouché

The relationship between Robespierre and Pétion (planning to remake this one)

I’m not an expert on any relationship beyond these yet, but when it comes to people of which it is established Robespierre was the personal friend (bc were we to talk about people he is confirmed to have had any form of contact/relationship at all with we would of course be here all night) this is basically what I’ve got so far (feel free to send an individual ask about those you consider more interesting, then it will be easier to give a more satisfying answer):

Pre-revolution

Robespierre and his five years younger brother Augustin grew up together at their grandparents’ house, but from 1769-1781 and 1781-1787 respectively the two spent the majority of the year studying in Paris and consequently saw very little of one another. Once the revolution rolled around Augustin came to visit his brother two times before being elected a deputy and permanently moving to Paris in 1792. We have several letters from Augustin in Arras to Maximilien in Versailles/Paris (but none the other way around). The two were evidently close, and when Maximilien was ordered arrested on July 27 1794, Augustin asked to share his fate.

After the death of their mother and disappearance of their father in 1764, Robespierre and his two years younger sister Charlotte grew up seeing each other only once a week until the former headed to Paris in 1769. After he graduated in 1781, he and Charlotte lived with each other up until the opening of the Estates General, after which Charlotte didn’t see him again for three years (save a short trip he made to Arras in 1791). According to Paul Villiers, who served as Maximilien’s secretary for a time, he sent a quarter of his fees to ”a sister in Arras whom he held a lot of affection for” during this period. In 1792 Charlotte moved to Paris with her younger brother where the two moved in with Maximilien’s host family. The three siblings got into a conflict and were seperated as enemies, different sources giving us different answers regarding exactly what for.

During his time as a lawyer in Arras, Robespierre and his siblings were close to his fellow lawyer Antoine Buissart and his family. They kept this contact up during the revolution, and we have several letters exchanged between Maximilien, Augustin and Antoine conserved. They did however eventually fall out with one another due to ”the terror” carried out in Arras in the spring of 1794, and after Robespierre’s execution Buissart was quick to abandon and denounce him. 

During his time as a student at the college of Louis-le-Grand it would appear Robespierre gained a friend/school rival in the future dramatist and man of letters Beffroy de Reigny. In 1786 Robespierre sent him two of his most recent works to insert in his journal, Beffroy responding by celebrating his success and saying he ”perfectly remembers the role played at the College by his amiable study companion; a talent like his is not meant to be forgotten.” He did however quickly grow to dislike the revolution, and in works written in the years following Robespierre’s death he claimed to have never been his friend.

The Revolution

Robespierre and Danton were good friends, or at least good brothers in arms. In 1792 Danton offered his ”dear friend” a job at the Revolutionary Tribunal, and the next year Robespierre adressed what is probably the most sentimental of his conserved letters to Danton, consoling him over the loss of his wife and telling him ”I love you (tu) more than ever, until death.”

Robespierre had a good relation with the Roland couple, Mme Roland writing in her memoirs that she thought him ”an honest man” and that they sometimes dined together. They eventually fell out with each other over the war question, but not before Manon had written Robespierre a letter asking for a meeting so that they could sort out their differences.

Robespierre was also at first good friends with the ”girondin” and fellow National Assembly member François Buzot, who in his memoirs wrote that Robespierre had told him ”I esteem you, because I know you well” even in 1793. In his defense (1793), the girondin Gensonné wrote that ”In 1791 and 1792, Robespierre had the most intimate liasons with Pétion, Buzot and Roland, how can he accuse them today without accusing himself?”

Robespierre and Georges Couthon quickly got to know each other after the latter’s arrival in Paris in September 1791, although it’s possible they started out on less than friendly terms. We have a letter from Robespierre to Couthon dated August 9 1792 where he tells him he ”anxiously await news of your (votre) health.[…] May you soon return to your homeland and we await with equal impatience your return and your recovery.”

Robespierre was also good friends with Philippe Le Bas. The best source for their relationship is the memoirs of the latter’s wife Élisabeth, where she numerous times has the two say flattering things about one another. On 9 thermidor, Le Bas, like Augustin, volonteered to share Robespierre’s fate.

Robespierre was good friends with Collot d’Herbois, who also knew his host family (this can be observed via letters from Collot to Robespierre dated November 23 and December 1, and a letter from him to Maurice Duplay dated December 5). They eventually fell out with each other in 1794, but it’s unclear exactly when and why. 

Robespierre had a friend in his doctor Joseph Souberbielle. In his Histoire de la Révolution française (1869) the historian Louis Blanc reported Souberbielle to have spoken warmly about him even decades after his death.

During his time on the Committee of Public Safety, Robespierre wrote a list containing the names of around 115 men he described as ”patriots with more or less talent,” many of which held (thanks to his list?) important functions. On first place on the list we find Martial Hermann, president of the revolutionary tribunal and later chairholder of the Commission of Civil Administration, Tribunals and Claude-François Payan, head of the Paris commune, who are both proven to sometimes have turned directly to Robespierre regarding things that concerned the entire Committee of Public Safety (1, 2, 3, 4), as well as François Dumas, president of the Revolutionary Tribunal April-July 1794 and Jean-Baptiste Coffinhall, judge at said tribunal, who both public procecutor Fouquier-Tinville and Barère, Billaud-Varennes and Collot-d’Herbois after thermidor would claim to everyday have gone home to Robespierre to discuss the tribunal’s upcoming affairs. If Robespierre was the personal friend of the four is harder to say, but all of them would nevertheless be executed as his ”accomplices.”

Another person on the list is the young Marc-Antoine Jullien who served as representative on mission 1793-1794 and often turned to Robespierre directly when reporting about things going on (according to From Jacobin to Liberal: Marc Antoine Jullien 1775-1848 (1993) by R.R Palmer: ”of Jullien’s known letters written during this period twenty-one were addressed to Robespierre, but eighteen were addressed to the CPS as a whole, and twenty-nine to four other members of the Committee.”) He was arrested right after thermidor and would deny having had any association with Robespierre, but it would still be more than a year before he was released. His mother Rosalie Jullien was her too a big admirer of Robespierre and dined with him a couple of times.

Another one of the people on the list is Jean Charles Guislain Mathon, an arragois childhood friend of Robespierre who, after the siblings fell out with each other, offered Charlotte asylum at his house ”in spite of [the brothers’] protests.” She moved in with him after their execution and stayed there for the rest of her life.

#robespierre #maximilien robespierre #ask #frev #being Robespierre’s friend basically means you can either choose between: #dying for him #dying with him #dying because of him #denounce him and pretend you never knew him so you can save yourself from dying

[horatiocomehome]

Hi I was having Thoughts about my HC that Sif has heart problems, and how it’s unclear if Loop is actually like. human anymore.

So! have some post canon sif and loop conversation!

~~~

> Hey, Loop.

"Yeah, Stardust?"

(You feel their voice in your cheek where it rests on their chest, as the two of you lie in the shade.)

(You can hear them breathing, too.)

(But... you can't hear a heartbeat.)

> What even are you?

“...”

"OMG Stardust you can't just ask someone that!" Loop giggles.

> Sooo, you don't know.

"What you see is what you get! Your guess is as good as mine."

> I would've thought you would have some idea..."

"..."

(You grin.)

> After all, you look pretty bright!

"HA!"

“...But really, I don't know much. I just made my wish, and a star fell down to me. I felt like, for it to work, I had to eat it. So I did. When I woke up... I was the lovely Loop you see now!"

(Ate a star!)

(That doesn't tell you much, but you feel your heart beating faster. Their chest is still quiet.)

(Like so many times recently, memories seize you.)

(Memories of your heart going too fast and tripping over itself.)

(Memories of dying.)

"Stardust?"

(You breathe in, and out.)

(You brush your hand over the star on Loop's chest. It feels like when your hand falls asleep. It's warm.)

> Do you think you have a heart?

> Woah, I thought we were going steady! Why am I heartless all of a sudden?'" Loop jokes.

(You smile, a little.)

> You know what I mean.

"Well… I don't have any reason to think I don’t have one."

> You don't have a heartbeat though?

"...Oh!”

(Loop is quiet for a little. They're looking off into the distance.)

"Actually," they start, "I haven't really noticed my heart at all, since the loops."

(!)

"Just like you, it did me in a couple times back then!" Loop continues, a little too brightly. "I got used to paying attention to it, but I haven't had to, since!”

"...Guess it's a benefit of the job."

(So they really don't have a heart.)

(You roll over and bury your face in their chest.)

> Well then, I don't have to worry about you dying before me!

(You try to say it like a good thing, but you aren't fooling anyone.)

(You want to spend as much time as possible with them. With all of your family.)

"Stardust… you don't have to worry so much, you know. We’re safe now!"

> But what about MY heart?

> What about the times it killed me??

> What if that happens again?!

> I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!

(Loop wraps their arms around you. You silently hug them back.)

"You know, even stars burn out eventually."

(As soon as they say it, you know it's true. Even though, if you'd tried to dredge that up earlier, you wouldn't have found anything.)

"And I'm a very small star! So let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay? I might beat you to it after all!"

> You say that like it'll make me feel better.

(Loop flicks the top of your head.)

"Listen, Stardust. Our heart gave out because we were putting so much stress on it. But we're not doing that anymore, right?"

> ...Right.

"So you should have lots more time to spend with all of us!"

"Besides," their voice is light again, "you shouldn't be thinking about death so much anyways! we've spent more than enough time dying already."

› But...

"Just live, Stardust. Stop worrying and live.”

#teehee #it’s been a WHILE since i’ve written this was a nice thing to break back into it #I was going to write something for an AU I have but then this popped out! like alright then! #isat #sifloop #siffrin isat #loop isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #my writing #starry time

[sminiac]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡— So Yours !

⋆ H. Shota + Reader

Ex — Incredibly emotionally charged, like— me venting in way because how does one ever cope with the fact that the very thing you seek to hold for eternity is actively slipping through your fingers at such a devastating and unforgiving pace, lol ???? In other words, a lot of nonsense, I just wanted to write hehe

Puppy love was born from the inability to comprehend love to a bone withering extent, one that couldn’t convince you to stay and endure the scary feeling of encountering the unknown, but what you’d come to find even if not in the same circumstances is that Shota’s worthy of the hurt and the suffering, at least, you know that much.

He always made it all worth it, every bite of your tongue and the push of sucking things up and soldiering on- especially with how he is now, bathing in the bright sun like it exists only for the use of spotlight on his existence. He doesn’t hiss from the sting in his eyes or the insufferable warmth it wraps him in, he just takes it all in, what you don’t know is that it’s more so for the sake of keeping you in the shade you’ve claimed under the large tree that rustles and shakes in the soft brushing of a warm breeze.

“Okay, now you go.” He urges with a boyish grin, one that reminds you of midnight cicadas and warm evenings, he’s beautiful all the same, a mix of youth and the growing tinge of maturity sculpting out his face right in front of you.

Even if his very presence tended to make all things more bearable, you groan, already defeated. “This is stupid,” you announce, swift in your annoyance and your fingers haven’t even curled into your palm yet— much less even made a guess of what Shota could possibly pull on you this time. “I’m losing either way.” You admit humorously, a pitiful expression on your face that makes his heart stir out of place. It’s a shame, really. You got all pretty just for him and the hot day you’d endure together, but soon it would be ruined by the steady rush of water that’s been your saving grace for the past few days, if it wasn’t there surely Shota would have noticed your unusual and insistent curiosity of how many more parts of him are just as well built as his arms.

His hands remain still in front of his chest, a slight unsure slip to his smile as he thinks over the possibility of you losing, how you’d dwell in your silent grudge all the way back to town with soggy clothes and hot feet. He wishes that prior to taking a seat with you in the lush grass that you’d both agreed to 1/1, that way the process wouldn’t be so long and torturous for you.

It could’ve been over and done with, but here he is, on the cusp of taking for the win.

His arms hesitantly lower, all of his concerns and pointed guesses of you post river piecing together right before his eyes, the unpleasantness of knowing you’d be upset and that he could’ve very well prevented it striking him anxious.

Before you have the chance to question the lack of movement his hands zip back up to place in front of yours, there’s not a shift in his outward appearance that tells you what he’s thinking about, but then again, it is always hard to tell.

“You lose I jump, okay?” He says.

“That doesn’t make sense, what happens if you lose?” You question, more aloud than directly to him, your mouth running and the pool in your mind of retained thoughts is shallow.

The likelihood of you winning is slim to nothing, but he doesn’t put that out for the universes hands to grab at. “I jump anyways.” He answers blandly, as if it were the first solution that should’ve came to your mind and nothing but. Just like him though, you didn’t want that possibility falling from your grasp.

“Then the entire game would be in my favour, and that’s no fun—”

“And,” he adds abruptly, boldened and louder than his previous words. “you give me a kiss. Up here.” His index finger pokes out and taps twice at the centre of his forehead before returning to his position.

Your silence makes him a little uneasy, but was there really any need for him to be stressed over such a simple matter? He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with his request. You’ve kissed him before, and exactly where he wants it to happen again, what could be so different about this one?

Awkwardly, he clears his throat. “Are we going to shoot? The sun is making me warm.”

Your eyes slightly widen before you’re apologizing, scatterbrained and nervous as you’re adjusting yourself, knees bumping and faces equally as hot as the other’s. If the water beside you wasn’t so loud he’d surely hear the aggressive thumping of your heart.

The both of your fists are hitting against the surface of your open palms, softly announcing “Rock, paper, scissors.” together.

You don’t even have the ability to decide on how your fingers will position themselves before mindlessly they splay flat over your palm, simultaneously Shota’s fist stays balled as it lands against his skin on 3.

His lips part as he looks up, watching the way you hesitantly shift to your haunches.

The motion of your hand is slow as it hovers over his before it comes down to cup over his fist. “I win.” You announce, equally as amazed by your inexplicable luck.

You really don’t know what to expect, when he’d want his kiss, if he was being serious or just trying to get a good laugh out of it, but it startles you when he raises to his feet, grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt and clumsily wrestling it off before his hands are at his belt. You swelter under the bright glint of the metal, how his slender fingers pry it loose until his jeans are kicked off and now you struggle with keeping a healthy balance between looking at him chest and up, and whatever lays behind him in the distance.

The inkling you had about the rest of him. You were right, he does have a nice body, that’s more than just the defined clumps of muscle along his limbs. The entirety of him is nice, so unbelievably, achingly nice.

“Can I.. have it before I jump?” He asks, a small smile on his face that reveals his teeth as he talks.

You nod, asking “You scared?” as you join his side.

The two of you loom over the water for a second, the current isn’t whipping or dangerous any, but the pool of it certainly had some depth. “No. It looks inviting, I’ll be fine.” His fingers twitch being so close to yours when standing beside you, they always do, like it’s a gravitational pull that taunts him every single time, he doesn’t need to look to know the lack of distance there is between you and him, he’s never needed to.

“Are you scared?”

Your lips purse, eyes avoiding his as your fingers poke at his arm, just under his elbow is where they press firmly against him, “Not at all, but I think I am a little jealous.” Your feet shift until you’re both facing each other again, an even smaller amount of distance between you now, your hand wrapped gently around as much of him as you can fit. “You hate swimming like this, I know you do. You don’t even have all of your stuff.” He reasons, unable to say a thing about your other hand moving to cradle the side of his face —he only guides himself into you— or how your eyes focus on the movement of his lips, but he does fully acknowledge that the only thing that’s possibly capable of cooling him off now is if he jumps.

“Y/n?” He asks so softly his voice almost cracks, a little confused, and nervous, and completely unsure of your intentions but he’s confident that he doesn’t want to pull away just yet.

Quickly you press out your words before any hinderance is allowed to occur, “Sho’ if I wanted to kiss your lips instead would you let me?” You ask. Shota struggles with understanding for a minute so he stares blankly at you for quite some time, big pretty round eyes that don’t look so dark in the sun just barely moving as he looks at you, deconstructing your sentence before he’s decidedly nodding his head, at first it’s slow, because it’s you and yes whatever you want he’ll do, but then it really hits him, and now he’s nodding profusely and comically fast, “Mhm, ye-yeah, yeah. Yes. Please. Y/n, please.” His voice ripples out into tenderly familiar laughter, one that sounds warm and inviting, one that’s him, that makes you realize even if this kiss is to be different, and has the ability to dictate the direction of your friendship, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to go out with a bang.

Your weight rocks into the tips of your toes, keeps you steady as you bring yourself closer into his bare chest. Shota’s the one who steps further into you when he notices that you aren’t close enough, he doesn’t want you tripping over yourself, so he makes the barely noticeable adjustment for you.

“Know I should be nervous, but you’re so mine it doesn’t scare me.” You whisper, the breeze carrying your voice like it’s always been apart of you, you’re one with the chirping birds, the life of water, and the green grass that tickles your skin Shota’s always thought. You smell like summer and you look like it too. He’d want nothing more than to last in your eternal beauty.

His lips bump against yours as he talks, folding you into his embrace in such an intimate manner, noses bumping and hair mixing into each other’s.

“Why would you be nervous? I’ve always been so yours.”

#haku shota x reader #soul x reader #p1h soul x reader #p1harmony soul x reader #p1h soul imagines #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony imagines

[sophieinwonderland]

A More Comprehensive Look At Proxy Bypassing...

One of my posts recently talked about Proxying and Proxy Bypassing. This seems to have created some confusion about how Proxying and Proxy Bypassing actually work. And I'll confess, I'm not always the best at explaining things.

So before going on, I want to establish what these terms actually mean.

Proxying: This is the act of typing or writing for another headmate who isn't fronting.

Proxy Bypassing: Bypassing occurs when, while proxying, the nonfronter's words start flowing directly into the fingers faster than the fronter can process them.

To eliminate some of the confusion, I edited the title of the diagram from before to make it clear that this is mostly about the bypassing itself, not just proxying in general.

It is possible for systems to proxy without bypassing happening, which I don't think I was clear enough on when I made the diagram.

But it does USUALLY happen. Especially when writing long paragraphs.

Some have also asked how this is different from possession. And the difference, to me, lies in the fact that possession is more voluntary movement whereas proxy bypassing is largely involuntary and happens unconsciously. People don't choose to Bypass and often may not even realize it happened until after the fact.

So... what's actually going on here?

Because the above is an explanation for what it is, but not actually why it happens.

Well for that, we need to talk about some basic psychology and neurology.

The Cerebrum and Cerebellum

To start, let's take this very basic diagram of the brain from the Cleveland Clinic. Later, we're going to draw all over it in a way definitely not approved by the Cleveland Clinic.

The Cerebrum is the biggest part of your brain. This is the part of your brain that deals with higher thinking, consciousness, emotions, autobiographical memories, etc. There is a lot going on here. But as plurals, just know that if your headmates are anywhere in the brain, it's going to be in the Cerebrum.

Meanwhile the Cerebellum is more for carrying out more automatic processes, balance, motor control etc.

Do you ever notice how when you walk, you aren't consciously thinking about putting one foot in front of the other? How you aren't consciously thinking about how to maintain balance and not fall over? You just sort of point the body in the direction you want it to go, decide the speed you want to walk, and then it kind of just handles all those other details on its own without you having to think about it.

One way to imagine this might be that the Cerebrum contains more conscious programs like headmates... while the Cerebellum contains nonconscious ones. Commands of where to walk and how fast are sent from headmates in the Cerebrum to the Cerebellum which then actually dictates the movement.

(Note: This is a huge, HUGE oversimplification about these brain structures. But it's a necessary one for what I'm trying to explain here.)

We might conceptualize this relationship like this:

Headmate 1 sends what they want to happen to the Walking Program which then sends it to the through your nerves to have the actions carried out.

As you might guess, typing similarly is ran by processes in the Cerebellum, as are basically all motor skills. That's why it often feels a little automatic when you're typing, and why you don't need to think of where every individual letter is on the keyboard as you type.

So just as there's a walking program, there's also a typing program.

Now, when Proxying without Bypassing, Headmate 2 sends information to Headmate 1 who sends it to the Typing Program in the Cerebellum.

But as you can see, this is inefficient. It's an incredibly inefficient way for the brain to work.

So what does it do instead?

Well, my theory is that the Typing program essentially starts listening to Headmate 2 directly, if it already knows that it's going to be typing what Headmate 2 is saying. There's no logical reason to keep Headmate 1 involved in the process with Headmate 1 just acting as a middleman.

Hence, the signal bypasses the fronter and goes straight into the typing program.

Headmate 1 has not actually left front even if they may be a bit dissociated. But this automatic program is now taking instructions from a different headmate.

And unless Headmate 2 can already possess limbs, they may still not be able to do anything else with the hands except type. Because they're still not actually possessing. They're just sending information to the typing program which is what's actually sending it to the fingers.

Conclusion

I hope this explains a bit better how proxying and proxy bypassing work.

Thanks everyone who asked about proxying and proxy bypassing, because I tend to forget that just because something is making sense in my head, it won't to everyone else's and I need to get better at explaining these concepts in ways people can understand. Hopefully this was a bit more successful.

And thanks to the Cleveland Clinic for giving me such a nice brain to draw all over! 😜

#pluralgang #psychology #psychiatry #neurology #plurality #plural system #multiplicity #endogenic #systems #pro endo #dissociative identity disorder #did #did osdd #pro endogenic #science #plural #actually plural #actually a system #system stuff #sysblr

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball AF Lore

Last night I reblogged a thing about Xicor, the imaginary villain of Dragon Ball AF, the imaginary sequel to Dragon Ball GT. There were some cool responses to this, but I didn't want to reblog the entire post all over again, so I thought I'd carry the discussion over here.

@brotoman-exe : #so do they ever explain why Goku cheats on his wife in this set up?#(to be clear Im guessing it was likely a stolen dna Superman 4 thing just having fun)

My understanding was that the West Supreme Kai faked her death and then came back as a bad guy. She somehow obtained a DNA sample from Goku and used it to impregnate herself? The end result being that Xicor is the biological son of Goku and the West Supreme Kai, even though Goku himself had no idea of any of this.

Of course, it's impossible to cite sources on any of this, since I'm talking about made-up details from a made-up show. It's entirely possible that there are other versions of the AF legend where Goku cheated on his wife like a jerk.

What I always wanted to know was how the West Supreme Kai survived the fight with Kid Buu five million years ago, and why she laid low for so long.

But now that you've brought up Superman IV, I can't stop thinking about the raw chicken thigh Lex stuffed in that little lockbox. This is my new DBAF personal canon.

@scarabats123: #As someone who wasn't alive in 1994#let me tell you Xicor and AF was THRIVING in the 2000s up into the early 2010s#hell even now some people make nostalgic fanart of it#Everyone knew about Xicor and Evil Goku and that blue bald dude

It really is bizarre how long the AF mythos has persisted. I think Dragon Ball Super was the final nail in the coffin for any true believers that were still left, but by the time DBS came out AF had already established itself as this weird little thing in its own right. It's like Bigfoot. I think everyone knows it's not real and doesn't make a lot of sense, but the idea is too much fun to discard completely.

@mozillavulpix: definitely think there's a lot of information here that's wrong, but I wasn't in the fandom in the 1990s to confirm any of it But the one big thing is...I'm pretty sure 'Dragon Ball AF' was originally supposed to stand for 'April Fools'. Like at one point someone somewhere started the name just because it'd be hilarious to trick people into believing something with a name so obviously-fake if you were paying attention. But when people started believing it they came up with their own theories on what it meant. kanzenshuu also says the rumours probably only started around 2002-2003 https://www.kanzenshuu.com/rumor/dragon-ball-af/

There were some factual errors, but the one that stood out to me was the notion of Toyotaro creating Towa and Mira, since I'd always heard Toriyama created her for Dragon Ball Online. And I've heard of the Goku Black/Xicor parallels before, but I'm pretty sure that's more of a coincidence than anything else.

I also found the 1990s to be a little too early for AF rumors to really get started, so I went back to that Kanzenshuu article you linked to and read it again just to check. This time, I ran across the link to the message board discussion about the "SSJ5 Goku" image that seems to have started it all.

Apparently, this was all discovered back in 2012, but I don't think I ever heard about this until now. Someone found the "AF Goku" image in an issue of the magazine Hobby Consolas, cover dated May 1999.

It looks like the magazine just published reader-submitted fan art, and this particular one was credited to David Montiel Franco of Alicante, Spain. Forums member Raykugan published this information in February 2012, and then Derek Padula contacted the artist and published his findings on his blog "Dao of Dragon Ball".

David Montiel Franco, as it turns out, has his own blog, af-dragonball.blogspot.com, where he appears to be promoting his Dragon Ball AF fancomics. And apparently, the guy in the image is not Super Saiyan 5 Goku at all, but an OC named Tablos.

So it appears that the true original DBAF was a fanwork created by Franco prior to May 1999. Everyone else was building onto his creation whether they knew it or not. The alternative is that Franco is stealing the credit from the true artist, but that seems like a weird thing to still be holding onto after all these years. I mean, if he wanted clout, you'd think he'd do more self-promotion than this. By now, everyone would have heard of his claims to be the creator of AF. So I think he might be the real deal.

Anyway, it definitely ties DBAF to the year 1999, although I have a feeling the rumors didn't really pick up steam until 2002 or so, as U.S. fans became aware of a sequel series to Z and wondered what might follow after that. There may have been rumors in other countries that got earlier access to GT, and there were surely American fans in the 90's who knew more about GT before it was localized. But at least the concept of AF was around in the 90's, even if it was the tail end of the 90's, and even if it was very obscure.

But that's AF in general, not Xicor. I get the sense that Vintagegeekculture seemed to conflate Tablos with Xicor, and that's probably an understandable mistake to make, since Xicor was probably invented as a response to what was thought to be SSJ5 Goku. So Xicor must have come later, but how much later?

I guess what bugs me is that there ought to be someone who would claim credit for the character, the way Franco claimed to be the artist of the DBAF image. It's kind of fascinating how Xicor is out there and no one's trying to act like it was their idea.

#dragon ball #dragon ball af #xicor #tablos #west supreme kai