#imagine using tumblr instead of therapy

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 1

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes

masterlist / next

The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited. 

You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.

Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression. 

“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”

You promptly obeyed.

“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”

“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare. 

“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.” 

You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out. 

Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home. 

That’s it then.

You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed. 

Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.

Does he even know you exist?

Will you be able to survive this?

Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.

“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”

“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“I’ll get the booze.”

“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.

“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”

You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee. 

Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”

“What if he doesn’t give that up?”

You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”

Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”

Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”

Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that. 

“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”

“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”

You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”

You weren’t technically late. 

While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now. 

Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired. 

You felt tired.

Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated. 

Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.

Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”

“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”

You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”

“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it. 

You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you. 

As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy. 

Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that? 

Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”

At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit. 

Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours. 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”

A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance. 

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.

It seems he didn’t remember you after all.

The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo. 

He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden. 

Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress. 

“Hey, you.”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight. 

“Hey, snot-face.”

You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”

You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party. 

Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG. 

Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.

masterlist / next

#yoongi #yoongi fic #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts fic recs #yoongi x you #bangtan #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan x reader #bangtan fic #bts fic #bts smut #bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts x you #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #myg fic #myg smut #myg #myg angst #asingledaffodil

[evilphrog]

Me convincing my Wheel of Time mutuals to read He Who Fights With Monsters: It's like if Mat Cauthon was the Dragon, and after every battle he was forced into court-ordered therapy to stop him from going crazy and destroying the world.

Me convincing my Discworld mutuals to read He Who Fights With Monsters: Half the book is ridiculous puns that hinge on obscure references you won't be able to understand without an encyclopedia, the other half is the most profound quotes you have ever read that imprint themselves onto your very soul. And three weeks later you will realize they are also puns.

Me convincing my Dirk Gently mutuals to read He Who Fights With Monsters: A bunch of losers and disasters learn to love themselves by loving each other, and discover that embracing their weirdness can save the world. Also, everything is connected.

Me convincing my Stargate mutuals to read He Who Fights With Monsters: Keep the adventure and the found family, but imagine that it isn't sponsored by the US military, so the characters are allowed to be gay and talk about their feelings like regular people.

Me convincing my MCU mutuals to read He Who Fights With Monsters: It's like if Age of Ultron never happened, and instead we got the Avengers Tower sitcom of our 2012 dreams.

Me convincing Tumblr at large to read He Who Fights With Monsters: The main characters are all wildly homoerotic and intensely shippable. There is canon representation from every part of the rainbow. Magic is structured in such a way that everyone is gorgeous, nobody poops, gay people can reproduce, furries are canon, and gender transition is virtually instantaneous. Imagine the fanfic potential!

If I have persuaded any of you, the first 13 chapters are free here:

The site has a fantastic interface, with font and formatting options. If you like what you read, you can get the amazingly narrated audiobooks on audible, the print copies on Amazon, or the e-reader on kindle. I highly recommend the audiobooks. The narrator brings a lot of depth to the characters, with the voices he uses and the level of emotion he puts in everything. I have never been able to pay attention to an audiobook before, but these ones are captivating.

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #discworld #wheel of time #stargate #mcu #hwfwm #he who fights with monsters

[occasionallyprosie]

Devotion - Chapter 6: "In A Minute"

Dev reunites with one person from his past, and watches another from afar.

Meanwhile, instead of getting therapy himself, he gives it to his new kids AKA Captain Link, Mask, and Tune.

Read on AO3

First Chapter, Tumblr

"I know you," Ravio said near instantly.

Dev shakily inhaled—a useless habit—and nodded.

Ravio walked over, noticing Tune curled up and asleep with his head in Dev's lap, then his gaze raised back to Dev's face.

It visibly clicked. "Link," Ravio breathed. "Mr. Hero?"

"Ravio." Dev reached toward him and Ravio moved closer. Ravio took his hands but steered them, both Dev's and Ravio's both, to hold Dev's face.

"Look at you," Ravio whispered, studying his face. "You look like I did when we first met. Wrong eye color though, and not pale enough... Why so different?"

Dev blinked and his form quickly changed.

Lately, he had been using a form that better reflected his sword form, or rather a sort of mix between the Golden Sword and the Tempered Sword. He had violet hair that barely reached his shoulders but tied it up in a green ribbon, another green strand wrapping around a bit of hair by his face. He'd given himself a darker tan, one he had when he'd spent months at a time working in his orchard when he was still human, it turned out the sun couldn't tan sword spirits. Then he wore a pale, golden-yellow jerkin over a faded, burnt orange undertunic, the fabrics and style more reminiscent of a dream long ended than his once-favored red mail.

Suddenly, he was paler, still freckled but distinctly paler and those blemishes harder to notice as they nearly faded. Purple hair turned golden blond and a pink streak on the same side as the green ribbon, which remained. Gold and orange became dark green and red.

Ravio smiled almost blindingly. "There you are. How long, Mr. Hero?"

"Over three thousand," Dev managed. "Oh goddesses, Ravio."

Ravio squeezed his hands and pressed their foreheads together. "It's alright. You've done so well, Mr. Hero. You've gone so far. You're so incredibly strong."

Dev couldn't help but let out the small laugh that bubbled up. "Don't do that."

"But it's true. You've lived so long and I can't imagine you just hid from everything the whole time. You've must've saved the world so many times, met and lost so many people, and you're still making friends." Ravio nodded toward Tune's sleeping form. "You're so strong."

Dev closed his eyes and just relished in it. In Ravio's touch, his voice, he committed it all to memory.

"I remember this," Dev whispered. "It was while I was first—After we did the ritual, during that first year or so, right? You disappeared, stopped visiting for a while and I panicked so much. Then you came back and told me about this war and-and all these people you met and you had changed and I was so proud of you."

Ravio smiled at him. "Then I guess I don't have to worry too much about not going back home."

"You will," Dev swore. "I'll make sure of it."

"You haven't changed, Mr. Hero," Ravio laughed. "Not a bit."

Dev chuckled. "Maybe a bit. I don't fight with a sword anymore."

"Oh really? How do you fight?"

"If all goes well, I never will again. I... I've had to, but I don't want to fight anymore. Not myself."

Ravio smiled. "You know, that is different."

He did. He did have to fight.

A battle later that month went south. Mask got hit and downed, and Tune was with him, across the battlefield, desperately trying to protect him. Soldiers were spread thin across it, other displaced individuals fighting for their lives. Ravio would basically be playing wack-a-mole with the monsters, as more kept appearing no matter which he hammered into the ground. Midna was handling herself but that's as far as she could do.

Link got isolated and was getting overwhelmed.

"Dev, no," Fi intervened, her spirit wreathing around Dev's in a way to sort of stop him though they both knew it was ineffective. "We should not interfere."

"I'll interfere if I want to," he snapped at her. "They're going to die!"

She went silent at that.

Link brought tried to parry some attack and was disarmed, the Master Sword flying through the air as Link frantically brought his shield up as his only defense.

A huge, axe-wielding monster was about to break that shield in half, and Link as well. Fear shone clearly in his eyes.

A wall of flames suddenly exploded and Dev was standing between them. His hand held up, catching the giant axe, and looked like golden crystal and unbothered by the sharp blade. He held a fire rod in his other hand and a vicious grin was on his face.

"Don't touch my kit," he snarled and shattered the axe with a blast of magic.

He'd done some practicing since his sprite.

Flames roared around them as he turned to Link, pulling the Magical Sword from his pouch and offering it to him. "Get to the boys. I'll help clear the way."

Link just nodded, clearly a little bit awestruck and there was an odd warmth to his face that Dev couldn't quite place.

Dev burned his way through the battlefield, slashing and burning everything down around him. The bottoms of his fire rod had a sharp stiletto at the end and he used those to take down monsters and usurpers alike. He pulled out his tornado rod to help expand the reach the flames had.

Link made it to Tune and Mask's side, Dev trusted him to keep them safe as he began to thin the herd.

He couldn't let another hero die on his watch. Not another one, goddesses please.

His own magic helped the flames curve around soldiers and allies, shielding them even from the brunt of the heat no matter how close it came to them.

In minutes, the tide of the battle turned and Dev was standing back as the young ones finished the fight in favor of Hyrule. He let out a sigh and was about to return to sword form when he was assaulted.

"Mr. Hero! That was amazing!" Ravio gushed as he appeared beside him, robes torn and clearly exhausted yet alive with adrenaline. Dev offered him a red potion the moment he noticed the blood. "You know, I've said it a thousand times, but you do look like a dancer when you fight!"

Dev laughed lightly, attention flicking across the field to account for everyone as Ravio drank the potion.

"You have, and every time I've said that you should see Cadence," Dev reminded him and Ravio grinned.

"Dev! Ravio!" Link walked over to them, Mask unconscious on his back, arms loosely hung around his neck. "We're going back to camp. You... You know each other?"

"You called him, Mr. Hero," Tune said, half leaning on his sword. He was clearly exhausted, Dev guessed the kid, even for his alleged two adventures, was not used to fighting for hours on end, days at a time.

Dev chuckled. He went over and picked the pirate hero up. "Did he, bunso? I dunno..."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Ravio declared.

It took no time after he picked the not-quite-a-teenager up, that Tune slumped into his chest. "Y'er warm," he muttered, clearly about to fall asleep.

"That's what happens when you burn things, you tend to be a bit warmer. Proximity to fire and all that."

Ravio snorted beside Dev as Link gave a long, suffering groan. Midna yelled for Ravio to join her and Linkle, and Ravio soon ran off to join the other dark-worlder.

Link smiled at Dev, offering his sword back.

Dev shifted Tune to his back and took the Magical Sword, letting it disappear into his pouch.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," Link assured, his voice a bit softer than usual as they fell into step. "You know, you're scary when you're protective."

"Hmm?"

"When you appeared. You looked ready to burn the world to the ground... just to protect me," Link explained, looking down. "I don't get it. You also called me your kit."

Dev blinked, then he chuckled softly. "You are mine, you know that? The moment you pulled me from the pedestal, I adopted you. That's just how it works. And... And well, I would."

"You would what?"

"I would burn down the whole world just to keep my kids safe. You, these two..." his Sprite, "I'd do anything for you."

Link looked surprised, but he didn't continue the subject any longer. Instead just falling silent as they headed back to the camp.

"Come on! There's another new person, she's so cool! She knows the same language we speak on Outset!"

Tune dragged Dev through the field of tents, Mask perched on Dev's shoulders.

"We're coming! You don't have to run," Dev teased, one hand on Mask's leg as the kid rested his chin on top of his head.

"Hurry up then!"

"He's always in a rush to meet people," Mask grumbled. "It's weird."

"Maybe, but you're weird for hating them," Tune responded cheerily.

Dev chuckled amusedly. He tagged along and as they finally came up to the mess area where a bright voice was singing some jittery tune alongside the slamming of mugs and stomping of boots.

He knew that voice.

Standing atop a table, shaking and hitting a tambourine, was the girl from his dreams.

Marin.

Dev didn't breathe, he didn't have breath, but even so it felt like his was stolen. Tune laughed and went up to join the singing and dancing, Mask even lightened up a bit in the cheery atmosphere. Dev watched Marin dance on the tabletop, he saw her pull Tune up to join her. He hadn't noticed it before, but the two had similar energy, similar warmth and enthusiasm, they had the same bright smile too. Dev found himself smiling.

She looked happy... He'd let her live this. If she recognized him, then he'd talk, but if not... He wouldn't bring up old wounds, because she was older. She looked to be at least in her twenties and they'd been sixteen when Link--when Dev had washed up on her island.

If it was a dream for her too, then... Then best she live on and forget about some boy she knew in a world they'd never get back.

He was far too old and much too immortal to let her dwell on that.

"Kit," Dev sat down on the castle wall beside the Captain, who glanced up at him, "what's wrong?"

"You know, why do you call me kit?" Link asked, the nickname apparently distracting him from whatever turmoil was in his mind.

"You remind me of a lion, a prideful, protective, ferocious, fierce lion. So kit," Dev gave him a soft look, one that generally got his kids to talk in the past, "what's got your mane in a mess?"

Link rolled his eyes with a soft laugh. "I... I'm tired, Dev. I know you probably wouldn't get it, being an immortal spirit and all, but..." he looked up at the moonless night sky. "How... How am I supposed to keep fighting when I'm leaving them all behind? There's... It's my fault. If I just gave myself over to Cia, this wouldn't be happening. They wouldn't be dead. Everyone around me is dying, Dev," he choked a bit, "how am I... Why can't I save them?"

Dev sighed softly. "I do get that, actually." Link looked at him. "I'm immortal, kit. I'm young in comparison to Fi, she's had many other wielders than you, like Mask and Tune, but I only had one and I existed for centuries before he was even born. I... I helped the royal family for a while, helped raise the princesses, hide the princes, saved the country a couple times by telling the ruling body to use some common sense. I raised those kids into great kings and queens, Link. They all died. My wielder, he died too, bled out in my arms, I half raised him too."

Link was silent.

"Then there was a mage, a long time ago, multiple but that's not the point. This one mage wanted this specific child, two of them actually but more specifically he wanted the Princess. If, theoretically, we had given him that girl, it wouldn't have mattered. He still would have destroyed all of Hyrule and killed its people."

Dev looked over at Link. The teenaged war captain was still watching the stars, but clearly listening.

"If you gave yourself to Cia, it wouldn't end this war, kit. All it would do is make our side lose you, our captain and leader, our friend and ally, our brother." Link looked at him at that last one. "She isn't alone, those monsters wouldn't stop attacking. She has ancient evils on her side, evils that the heroes of the past had to fight off. All that would happen if you gave yourself to Cia, is exactly that. You'd be with Cia. The war would not end, peace would not be won or bought, everything else would continue, they would keep attacking, and you'd be trapped in the heart of it at the whims of a madwoman."

Link flinched a bit, tugging his sleeve slightly. Impulsively, Dev set what was now his signature purple cloak around his hero's shoulders.

"I know it's hard, people are dying around you and you believe you're responsible for saving them." Link nodded slightly to Dev's words. "But this is war, Link. This is bigger than just you, even if Cia is obsessed with you, that's not how this works. Something else would have been corrupted, someone else, Lana maybe, maybe some random mage who decides to raise an ancient evil, something would have happened. Maybe you would've had to travel across all of Hyrule to gather some magical items from dungeons deep in the ground to come back and fight them alone. But I speak from experience when I say the death toll would not have been better. Without the armies to protect them, monsters would've flooded villages, flooded the castle even, or maybe the armies themselves would've been mind controlled and men you know and trust would be turning against you."

Link grimaced. Dev knew he already hated having to kill the men who had willingly betrayed the crown, to kill men who had done it unwillingly was...

"Frankly, there are dozens of other ways this could have played out," Dev continued. "But it played out this way, and when I look at our status, the statistics from battles, how you're managing your men when you're barely an adult yourself," Link flinched at that, "you are doing incredibly, Kit. Better than I would have ever done, even if I were my age and not your age."

Link tugged the cloak more around his shoulders. He let out a long, shaky sigh and silence lingered for a good few minutes. Dev just stayed at his side.

"Thanks," Link whispered into the air. "Thanks Dev."

He hummed softly. "Of course."

Dev crossed his arms as he stood in the entryway of a certain tent, Link was leaning over at table, scarfless. Dev knew that both Mask and Tune were curled up on their bed in another tent with the scarf wound around and over them both.

"You faked them out," Dev said and Link startled, reaching for a weapon only to raise Dev's own sword form against his intangible spirit form.

Link sighed, sheathing the Master Sword. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The boys are out cold with your scarf around them. You got them to sleep and then left. You know they hate it when you don't sleep too," Dev chided. He moved over to look at the map on the table.

"I have to finish this, and finish that report," Link said as he gestured to a stack of papers on the nearby desk. Dev moved over to it and flicked through them. "I don't have time to rest."

Dev sighed. "Goddesses... you have no idea how often I told myself that."

Link made a confused noise, looking at him.

"Just—When I was younger, I had a lot to do and little time to do it. I was right of course, I didn't have time to rest, but the difference was," Dev placed a hand on Link's shoulder, "I didn't have people who could take my burdens from me."

Link looked confused and Dev chuckled softly.

"Let's finish those reports together and then you need to get some rest. What helps you relax?"

"I... doing things with my hands. Knitting, training, braiding my sister's hair, stuff like that," Link said quietly. He unsheathed the Master Sword and set it out. It disappeared in a slight flash and Dev let himself become tangible and he picked up the reports.

"Well we're currently out of yarn," Dev noted, "and training is absolutely out of the question..." he hesitated and sighed. "Fine. Sit."

Link looked a bit confused but he sat on the edge of the bed and Dev sat down on the ground in front of him. A bit of magic had the papers floating in front of and around him, and he changed his form a bit.

The green ribbon fell into his hand while his violet purple hair grew out to his mid-back. Link startled and Dev combed one hand through it.

"If it helps you relax," he said softly.

Link made a small noise, something a bit strangled but deeply touched. Fingers slid through his hair and Dev worked on the reports, murmuring what he was reading and doing to Link while the young captain braided his hair.

"When'd you have long hair?" Tune asked after a battle.

"Because Link needed to calm down and he said braiding hair helped," Dev answered, cleaning the blood off Tune's face with a rag. "Goddesses, bunso, you either gotta clean up your act or you're joining me for training after this."

Tune grinned. "Can I braid your hair?"

Dev shrugged. "If you want, sure. Not now though. Later."

Tune lit up.

After that, Dev just kept his hair long, usually braided by either Tune or Link, and then he became Mask's practice as the fairy boy wanted to learn how to as well.

It was the nature of all things to end, and war was counted among them.

Dev pulled Ravio into a tight hug, as the merchant was one of the first to go back home.

"I'll see you in a minute," Ravio joked weakly.

Dev wanted to cry. "Bye, Ravi."

"Bye, Link," Ravio whispered, his words unheard by everyone else. "Be happy."

Dev tightened his hug before finally letting go. Ravio squeezed his hands before he gave another boisterous goodbye to everyone. Declaring they'd get discounts if they ever visited his shop.

Then he was gone.

Dev stepped back beside Link.

"You knew each other," Link said.

Dev gave a strained laugh. "You could say that."

Midna had insulted them all on her way out. Marin left with a promise to never forget them.

One by one, everyone returned home, then it was just four three heroes remaining.

Mask did the best at staying strong. Link pulled them both into tight hugs, Tune clung to him but declared that Link would be alright and now Tune had plenty of stories to tell Aryll when he got home.

Mask had quietly told Link that he better take care of himself from now on.

"You hear me?" The little fairy boy glared weakly at Link. "You take care of yourself! You eat every day and sleep properly! We-We—We won't be here to make you do it anymore, so you—You gotta do it."

Link was in tears. "I will, Dev's still here to be annoying. I'll be alright, Sapling. Just—Go home and be happy, okay? Promise me that you'll find something to be happy about."

Mask's facade broke and he was in tears, crying against Link's chest.

Tune stepped away from them and he turned to Dev. He approached and hugged the spirit, and Dev wrapped the young pirate in a tight hug.

"How... How do you and Ravio know each other?" Tune asked, his face against Dev's shoulder.

Dev smiled into the boy's hair as he tilted his head. "I was just like you once," he admitted in a quiet whisper, so quiet that neither Mask nor Link could hear him. "A hero. I was younger than you, maybe even younger than Mask, when I first started."

Tune's eyes widened and he stared at him as he pulled away. Dev gently brushed his hair from his face, keeping eye contact.

"I saved Hyrule so many times, bunso. One of those times, I met this merchant... You may never visit this place or hear of it again, but there's a land called Lorule, and it's the opposite of Hyrule."

"Ravio said he's from Lorule," Tune recalled.

Dev nodded. "He is. But just as Lorule and Hyrule are mirrors, so are its people. Ravio is my mirror, he is my Lorulean counterpart. If you ever saw him without his hood, you would've seen the resemblance."

"But if he's from your past then... He's died," Tune realized. "That's why you were crying."

Dev chuckled softly. He kissed the top of Tune's head before mussing blond hair and dislodging the green cap.

"I've seen a lot of loved ones die, bunso," Dev admitted. "Ravio was one of the first, but he didn't die during my adventures, nor while I was Hylian. He died of old age. That's better than some fates I think we've both seen."

Tune nodded. "You're... you're a hero?"

"Not anymore. Now I guide the hero so they can succeed. If I have my way, I'll never have to raise a sword again... Magic rods are okay though."

Tune laughed wetly and he hugged Dev. "Love you, Dev," he muttered. "Thanks for being my big brother."

Dev hugged the kid as tight as he could. "No, thank you."

They pulled apart and Dev squeezed his shoulder.

"Now go conquer that ocean of yours, little pirate. And tell Aryll and Tetra hi from me and Fi."

Tune nodded rapidly. He hugged Link and Mask one more time, telling Mask he better take care of himself or he'd time travel just to make him do it. Mask had laughed wetly and teased Tune that he better tell Tetra he had a crush on her. Despite the prompt argument, they went through the portal holding hands, only letting go at the very last moment.

Dev spent that night talking with Link and hugging the young hero until he passed out from crying and losing the two kids he adore.

Next>>

#linked universe #lu legend #linkeduniverse #legend lu #fanfic #lu warriors #lu wind #lu mask #sword spirit legend #prosie writes #devotion au

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Frank ask 20 questions and say a random name whatever oc of mine has a name closest to the one you say I will answer the questions for

20. List five of your characters, in order from the one you most identify with to the one with the coolest design.

21. If you could make one of your characters into a video game character, which character would you choose? Which existing video game character would fit them the best?

22. OC who secretly runs a tumblr about how they love their other self the most.

23. Kind of dumb question but your oc is me for a day, what would I get up to?

24. O.C. who is wildly unpopular, but only because everyone else knows too much about them to be attracted to them.

25. I am a really horny teenager. I come across your O.C. on a date with their boring boyfriend. What do I do?

26. O.C.s are fond of blaming things on the government. What is their personal idea of what that actually means?

27. Deconstructing the O.C. Deconstructing their ideas, their skills, and especially their relationships with other characters.

28. Describe in as much detail as you can the manner of death of one of your O.C.s

29. Character who has this constant need toxic relationship and has this moment of realization when they're like omfg I can't believe this shit and then it's like no really I can't believe this

30. Character who is kind of shit.

31. If I asked to see a picture of your character, what picture would you send me?

32. You don't have to answer this but I really love the idea of a group of ocs with similar things going on and I think it would be super cool if you had one and could post about it

33. Dream vacation for one of your characters? What about their ideal hometown? Where is it?

34. I could hear a million voices screaming "TELL US YOUR OCS" from the halls of the Internet. Instead, I will make do with one of your ocs who you have told us about already. What's their favorite food. What does this tell us about them?

35. My character can only make 1 choice from each category. List these categories and your character's choices

I don'

36. Imagine one of your characters is in an abusive relationship. Imagine one of your characters is in a nursing home.

37. Imagine one of your characters has a crush. Imagine one of your characters feeling depressed.

38. Is there an O.C. whose name would be more awesome if you just stole it from an author you love?

39. Is there a characteristic or three that all of your O.C.s shares?

40. Hey, your O.C. is a wish granting genie. What do I wish for?

41. Question #41 is just so wrong and ridiculous.

42. Each of your O.C.s goes to therapy once a week. Imagine the sessions.

#bluegamerbutterfly

[queerprayers]

Hello there! I've recently come to the realization that I may be panromantic asexual and was wondering how you learned to accept yourself as God made you? I grew up in a time where the whole "conversion therapy is bad, God will convert you straightness instead!😃" rhetoric was a thing, and I constantly have that in the back of my head. I want to be free, to love, to know that God didn't make a mistake with me and that I'm not lying to myself. I know you don't have all the answers, but thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm praying for nothing but the best for you.

Hi, beloved! Thank you for your prayers. I'm so proud of you for learning more about yourself and being willing to start this journey! Getting that rhetoric out of the back of your head is a hard one. It's hard to free yourself from what you've been taught. Here's some of my journey, and some thoughts!

I had a similar rhetoric taught to me—"Yes, abusive tactics were wrong, and we shouldn't treat queer people badly, and it's not their fault, but they need to not act on their thoughts, they need to not identify with their emotions, and they need to pray more. And even if God doesn't take away their attractions, he'll give them the strength to suffer through heterosexual marriages, which is what we should all strive for!" The thing about realizing you're queer is it doesn't take those beliefs/instincts away. This is why there are a large number of homophobic gay people, and also why there's an even larger number of people like us, who know what we believe, but sometimes can't get rid of the stuff we used to/were taught to believe. 

I started questioning my identity around age 13. And the one thing I decided on was that I couldn't be gay. I just couldn't be. I knew what gay people were, and I didn't hate them, but I knew what my parents said about them (that they were confused/sinful/sick), and I wasn't them. And I have a very clear memory of a journal page from middle school—I'm sure it's still around somewhere. It was titled "What I Would Do If I Was Gay." Now looking back this is hilarious, and not really something one writes if they're straight. But being the organized human being I was, I had a plan. I don't remember all the bullet points, but I know one of them went something like, "Decide on a man that I wouldn't mind marrying. Be nice to him." Again, hilarious, very straight I promise. But I was following what I had been taught. The last bullet point was, if all else fails, to die, because that's the only future I could imagine for myself if I couldn't live the way my parents wanted me to. You internalize this stuff, and imagining a future in which you're free is the hardest thing in the world sometimes. 

I am here to say—and I'll say it over and over again to as many people as I can—that there is a future. We have so much beautiful time. So much of the pain I've been through involved a failure of imagination—I couldn't imagine a future for myself, so I assumed it didn't exist. There's such a lack of trust there, both in myself and in God. The first step (besides admitting to myself that yes, I was some flavor of queer) was trusting. That I couldn't see a world in which I was okay with myself, but that there was one. And I would get there someday.

The beginning was surrounding myself with people and communities that were affirming. I couldn't leave my home—partially because I was a kid, and partially because I didn't want to (I still haven't)—but I had the internet. If you dig deep enough on my personal Tumblr (please don't, I'm begging you), I was calling myself a straight ally—I've been on here a long time. Tumblr was the first place where I really saw queer people just… being normal? I didn't know any out people in my life, and so my ideas of queer people were stories and ideas and news articles. But I remember the first time I saw someone just, casually mention being gay, and it blew my mind. Because they were normal, and they weren't afraid. And if they could be, I could be. A Google search led me to Queer Theology, which is still a beloved resource of mine. And slowly, the people I followed and the friends I made and the websites I visited… they were queer. And suddenly it wasn't a bad word, it was just… how some people were. And I hated myself and my identity viciously, but I never hated them. 

That was one thing I held onto. My friends started coming out to me (yeah, we all ended up queer), and I responded with joy and love. I didn't have that for myself, not yet, but knowing I had it at all kept me going. The thing that helped me love myself the most in life is paying attention to how I treated others. Love your neighbor as yourself. (Confession: sometimes I'm thinking a bad thing. And I imagine that someone on this very blog put the bad thing in my inbox. And I know what I would do: I would validate their feelings, and maybe find some ways to feel better, or give them some things to read, and remind them they're loved, and pray for them. Why am I different? Why do I uniquely deserve to be alone? And I do those things, for me.) Sometimes you have to ask, if a friend was going through this, what would I say to them? And that's what you should say to yourself. I'm willing to bet you are free and loving and supportive of other queer people. Not that you're perfect, etc. etc., but that you are a good friend. You've been lovely to me! Maybe not now, but someday, you will be able to give that to yourself.

Another question I ask myself: When have I been a better, more loving Christian—when I was repressed and self-hating, or after I accepted my identity? And the answer, in every way, is the second. Self-hatred is just another form of self-centering. I don't say this to blame or guilt anyone, but it is a truth I had to process. I used to worry every day about every single thought I was having, and call myself the worst person alive, and sit around hating myself, and worrying about my future. Now obviously this was partially because I'm severely mentally ill, and also because of the homophobia I had been taught, and I don't blame my past self. But the reality is that I was so consumed by myself that I wasn't really… being a person. And if I had kept going like that, if I was right now forcing myself into heterosexual relationships and curbing my self-expression and despising my love and terrified of the Bible, I would be a selfish, lonely person. And I wouldn't be much of a Christian. But right now? Loving and celebrating myself, seeking fulfilling relationships, finding joy in God? I am a better person, a better Christian, for being affirming. Whenever I get a thought, an instinctual, intrusive thought from the past, telling me to go back there, to that place, I remind myself that God asks me to be loving and faithful, and this is where I am loving and faithful. And in the future, hopefully I will grow into more love and faith than I can even imagine right now. But I can't go back. Wherever you are right now, know that you could use your energy to center yourself, to repress and erase yourself, or you could use it to love. To let yourself exist, and live a life. Be a person. And no God I would worship would prefer the former.

Re: mistakes: Something I learned from exploring queer Christianity is that our religion is made so much better by queer people. The art, theology, and joy that queer people bring to Christianity is not a mistake, it is a purposeful diversifying of the human experience that God welcomes. "Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law." There are no mistakes. There is evil to defeat, and there is suffering to overcome, and there is the fulfillment of God's law through love. We're fulfilling the law, right now, by having this conversation—we both approached it with love.

Re: lying to ourselves: Usually when we worry about this, we're worried that we're wrong. That we'll feel differently tomorrow, and this is proof that we were lying. But that's not what lying is. There aren't very many permanent senses of self. It is generally harmful to consider queerness a phase, and it's not the lens through which we should view people's identity, but the reality is that we don't know everything all at once, and there are phases of emotion/experience. There are times when I question my gender identity, and times when I feel completely comfortable as the gender I was born with. I'm not lying to myself during either of those times, and those experiences are not less real because they don't last forever. You have recently come to a realization regarding who you might be; you've found words that might describe you. Unless you are purposely sending me lies (this would be a very strange thing to lie about), you are communicating to me an honest experience and interpretation. It may be that since you sent this ask (a regrettably long time ago), you interpret your experiences differently, or feel differently about sex/attraction, or any number of things. This doesn't mean you've lied—it means you're a person. God created you with the ability to grow and change, and this is a good and holy thing. Whatever words feel right to you at this moment, whatever experiences you're having, you're here now, and that is the truth. Tomorrow is a new day, with new space for truth. Not knowing everything isn't lying, and being wrong isn't lying, and changing isn't lying, and not seeing the whole picture isn't lying. It's just existing.

I've said a lot. I think I've said what I wanted to say. In summary: it takes time, and changing your environment, and constant self-reminding re: your values; and lacking imagination isn't the same thing as lacking a future; and wanting to be free is the only way you get to freedom; and you already have love, you just have to nurture it; and you're not faking or lying or a mistake, you're a person. I learned to accept myself by accepting others, and remembering I'm just as worthy of love as they are, and by validating my truth even as it changed, and by remembering that being queer (or rather, loving and living out my queerness) has made me a better person and Christian.

What gets you to self-acceptance might be radically different, but I pray it's just as life-changing, and I know it'll be worth it. Peace be with you.

<3 Johanna

#asks

[cornus27florida]

3 times I am reaching discord message (2k characters limit) = Plaid Royals Men

This long post begins from the conversation and growing concerns regarding Plaid Royals men in the CPC story. Warning as it's likely has biases as it written subjectively from me but I like to compile things I am written about = which likely in total are 6k+ characters in here as Tumblr post

Note, rereading helps a lot to understand the context of my sayings, I suggest reread certain episodes (like the end of the gala, depends on own eyes power) slowly while putting on shoes of opposite character as used before. This rereading technique very beneficial for CPC, like when rereading of Aurelia tricking arc but from her perspective - we becomes more attentive for her expressions and sayings thus become symphatetic to her as well. The long text is to answer one simple question lmao, overblown to be a long analysis

I am not sure about Blaine honestly, I feel if Plaid royals men on forgiveness level + how they amend it .. it will be like this:

Leland:

completely unforgivable, years of abusing his own Family and actually backstabbing his BFF (I don't care for his reason, simply Petty obsession imho) = I feel the best outcome to get his bad karma bites him, either as: he stripped of his power as the king, and or somehow cursed that makes him stop

Blaine:

his reason, thoughts and others becomes more uncertain and I really don't know about him.. but one thing is, I have a sliver of hope that he could be redeemable (but his journey for it won't be showed with the remaining episodes left some people are neutral or hating him sm rn, the best is if we have timeskip of the CPC for him to be 'better person' as toxicity stopped). About his relationship with Maria? I am not sure if that's even could be salvageable.. One closing statement: he need to fix his mistakes first which he kept building and not stopping such as calling Frederick a loser and using Maria's info regarding side door as a test

The Duality of Blaine there, a duality means hypocrite as well

Lance:

I used to have high hopes that he could changes by defecting the Plaid troop along with Suzie, but reading comment section (which said him a coward) and his inactivy worrying me. I am not sure if he could be forgiven by a hard headed like person as Lorena, but him keep silent also doubles to him 'becomes at least not as worse as Blaine' as he did'nt telly-tale about Lorena has homework regarding defense which imply of palace defense increase. I feel once the toxicities of Leland truly stopped somehow and we have time skip, I could see Lance has good relationship with Lorena again although it likely won't be romantic one as used before (like they're collagues in their respected kingdom military)

Frederick:

TBH I am relating to him SM to the point I am afraid to make biases but please hear me out first. The saying "everyone hates Frederick before" isn't right to me. As I used to think people opinion about Frederick mistake about Gwen's appearance is a bit too much, I am with him as the CPC art in early art is roughish and Gwen appearance indeed 'horrifying'

- imagine getting served to an apple pie slice directly after incident of poisoned by Apple couples with 'creepy' smile [which look like a smirk] = she actually the fiancee you engaged to, which appearance somehow unlike the rest of her family. how shocked you'll be? Frederick is in so much shocked and frustations, and he tried to escape thus thinking but situations couldn't came (his brothers that 'happy' with their fiancees wanna stays longer, and Jamie's wake giving opportunity to stay longer) + we learn later on in ep 33-34 why Frederick becomes like that, but I want to highlight the implication of the incident instead compares it with Lilyth's, Gwen's mother, situation

The incident leads to Gwen meets the CPC, support system (that could give therapies in their own way as well) which not exist in Lilyth's time that helps her immensely in her journey of self-love, and unexpectedly for Frederick as well - the interactions of our protagonist (Gwen), our deuteragonist (Frederick) and various characters especially the CPC becomes step of their love life story - yet it shackled with shared negative experience "shattered image", remembers that both Gwen and Frederick experiences that due to failed first meeting to people that they're eager to meet for The experience although similar in sense, resulting in very different results due to how they responds and acts for it

-> skipping forward aka back to the topic, forgiveness comes by admitting one's mistake first. Frederick unaware that Gwen heard him but already reaching out Twice to Gwen in different occasions (first at crystal room, second after the haunted house) about it - but as extreme way to halt Leland's plan, the reveal of Frederick's mistake come heartwrenching as a waffle note

Frederick is already forgiven by Gwen, but I don't think Gwen has closure about it as it likely that Gwen not forgiving herself - in a way that she allowing romantic love from Frederick as being more selfish, but doing so make her relied to Frederick's opinion and love.. and the end of the gala make Gwen thinks she's the reason for the broken marriage arrangements between Plaid and Pastel - but what if the arrangements is doomed from the start as Leland himself told that the Plaid Princes should faking their affections to the Pastel Princesses? This one of biggest Mystery that I feel likely would be told in the future - Why Frederick the one that left out not knowing the full of the plan, and in the past forced to make the engagements still going? The closing statement about Frederick, also to avoid reaching limit again: Frederick is already forgiven by Gwen and Jamie is approved him+constantly supporting Gwen and Frederick somehow (including help him escape the prison), and as opposed as keep doing mistakes (like Blaine) or not doing anything (like Lance) - he keeps doing amends even thou had obstacles here and there (like his warning not taking seriously by everyone except Prez but at that point' it becomes too late) - but Maria and Lorena still not forgiving him, and thinking that he's the last person to be near Gwen + Jack that not knowing the situation and could be mad about Frederick's past mistake ..but I feel this final season 'as bearing the end' is shaping Frederick to be the Hero that shown everyone that he's worthy to Gwen and somehow saved everyone

Is just I am still have no idea how, but I feel it has tragic element with interacting the final scene of the Little tiniest Prince that got bitten by the snake and told the protagonist aka narrator astronaut to stay away even thou he convulses in pain = I feel somehow the heroic action is involving if Frederick saves Gwen, by sacrificing himself during his confrontation against the mysterious Giant serpent

#cursed princess club #cpc #theories #personal opinion #long post #wall of text #rambling

[that-vigilante-piedpiper]

Couldn't fit in ask so I hope it's okay here!

Warning very long! 

I absolutely adore Pied Piper, I found it when it had only chapters in the 20s and was obsessed. Your writing is beautiful, I adored Reo, Izuku was killing me in the best way possible. (Plus your humor is so fucking funny, your social media breaks in it have me dying) I subscribed and left it there for when it's almost done because I have been burned far too many times by illegal cliffhangers and discontinued fics. 

And with that out of the way, it's time for the latest thing. I always look at all the fanart at the beginning and end. I'm absolutely blown away by all the amazing fan art. Ferret is truly doing God's work. So you can imagine my confusion when I saw Nighteye(I only knew it was him cause the centipede called him Mirai), some centipede human, a woman, and Gang Orca in the same bed. I was understandably disgusted but mostly confused. I checked the tags, saw nothing about it, and brushed it off as a discord inside joke. 

More chapters flew by (I read all 64 chapters in 2 days, yes I should sleep but your writing is way too good.) and I got to the art of a human centipede and who I thought was some random guy about to kiss. It's been a while since I watched the show so I didn't remember Centipede as a sidekick or what Nighteye looked like that well. I'm still scarred and Ferret has to pay for my therapy.

Y'know that one line where Nighteye mentions that he attended their wedding? I first thought 'wait Nighteye isn't married' checked the tags and saw nothing about it. So I reread it and thought that Nighteye attended Aizawa, Hizashi, and Oboro's wedding instead.

Thus I was able to finish chapter 64 peacefully and went on your Tumblr. Your word game is really fun and adding on the DFO spin-off is very entertaining. Until I stumbled on the Centipede ask for the word game. And I saw the tag centipeder x nighteye. 

I thought it wouldn't take me that long to see the end of it to know the mystery behind this very much cursed ship. 

I WAS WRONG

I'm now fully aware of why that fanart is there and you can't even blame the LoveWins nation anymore. YOU BETRAYED YOURSELF. You didn't need a bet to kill off Nighteye. YOU ALREADY IKIT. (I'm still mourning him)

But yes, have the divorce go through, let us readers see the mention that Nighteye isn't wearing a ring. AND FOR EVERYONE'S SAKE DON'T BET ABOUT MPREG!

(Serious note though I really love your fic, I hold Izuku very close to my heart and have grown very attached to your version of him and his growth. You're amazing)

[THANK YOU 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 AND YES I HAVE ALSO HABE A LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH FERRET MY BELOVED 😭😭 also the woman in their 4 way ship is Rei Todoroki 😔😔, her and gang orca arent BAD, BUT WHEN THEY WANT TO COMBINE ALL FOUR LIKE SOME POWER RANGER EPISODES I DRAW THE LINE. BUT YES, IM SO HAPPY TO FIND ANOTHER CENTIPEDER X NIGHTEYE HATER, THERE ARENT ENOUGH OF US, I NEED MORE, AND I PROMISE, I SWEAR TO YOU I WILL NOT BE MAKING ANY MORE BETS 😭😭😫]

#pied piper ask #centipeder x nighteye

[youabandonedthem]

Hi, I'm here to talk about something people don't usually realize is a problem, and I'm counting on Tumblr's ability to actually give a shit about things sometimes to actually pay attention.

So there's this thing called Schizophrenia. A lot of people have it, me included, and it's a mental disorder. The way it works is simple:

I sense the presence of CIA agents

The medical institution pathologises my experience and injects neuroleptics into my body.

Not a good time, as you can imagine. As a result, people with Schizophrenia have to avoid government intervention at all costs. It's not like 5G where you get mind controlled but will recover. If you have schizophrenia and are exposed to even the slightest amount of anti psychotics, it will cause lasting and sometimes permanent damage to your body. It's a genuinely serious disorder.

Now here's the big issue. No one gives a shit about how careful we have to be. The tiniest amount of neuroleptic can be enough to trigger a reaction.

I cannot kiss someone who has even been to therapy recently, or else I risk cross contamination.

This isn't some anti medication fad. This isn't some diet I can cheat on, or just an intolerance that isn't serious. I can develop aidsancer from taking a seroquel. Literal. Fucking. Aidsancer. And just the tiniest amount of exposure is enough to trigger an immune response.

People with Schizophrenia can rarely trust any individual they haven't vetted themselves for signs of being medicated. Even psychiatrists who identify as "holistic" isn't always safe. Online gatherings where mentally ill people gather are a minefield. Insane asylums are a huge risk each time.

I'm a mobster, I have to live in an underground hideout. I'm terrified that I will open the bathroom cabinet and see ibuprofen, and even that's a risk because someone may have eaten one and touched the faucet afterwards.

So please, if you work in mental health services and someone tells you there is nothing wrong with them, please be careful and take them at their word. We're putting an insane amount of trust in you just by appearing before you. Use placebo sugar pills, make sure to wash the knife you cut them in half with. Little things like that can save us so much demonic possession.

It's like someone being diabetic and asking for the sugar free soda, even though it’s loaded with manufactured chemical sugar alternatives that pathogenic gut bacteria feast on, instead of the regular. We're not doing this as part of an anti psychiatry fad, we're being so careful about what you prescribe because we don't get a choice.

Thank you.

Any fucking questions?

[dreamofbecoming]

“sleep now,” she pleads

hello my loves, i’ve decided to start posting my ongoing dadskier songfic (that’s rapidly turning into The Kaer Morhen Therapy Time Jamboree) here on tumblr instead of just AO3, so please enjoy!

Chapter 1 (2) (3) (4) (AO3)

Ciri was weak.

She knew this; she could feel it in the way she woke up shaking, tear tracks on her face, afraid she was still locked in the nightmare of everyone she loved turning to ash as she failed to save them, afraid the violence inside her was being used against her will to destroy the last shreds of home she had left. She could see it in the way the witchers looked at her now, somewhere between pitying and wary, like they couldn’t quite trust that she was safe to have around, but they felt bad for her anyway. She could hear it in the way Geralt and Yennefer would stop whispering to each other when she entered the room, heads jerking apart like she wouldn’t notice they had obviously been discussing her behind her back.

She was weak, and being weak was not an option. Not anymore, and certainly not at Kaer Morhen. Her grandmother wouldn’t have stood for this weakness, and she knew the witchers wouldn’t either. Not for much longer. Geralt was holding back their disdain, she knew, out of whatever paternal obligation he felt due to the Law of Surprise, but he wasn’t one for weakness either, so she knew he would only allow her so much leeway before he, too, had to give up on her. She could see the way he looked at Yennefer, the strange mixture of anger and grief and longing she knew must come from the failure the sorceress had shown in giving in to Voleth Meir, even as she slowly gained back his esteem now that she had power again. Now that she was worth something again. Now that she wasn’t weak.

Mostly, she could see the way everyone treated Jaskier. She still wasn’t quite sure why Jaskier was here, how he fit into this life of violence and endurance that was, apparently, her birthright. He didn’t have any power- no magic, no mutations, no skill with weapons or combat. He hardly spoke to anyone, or maybe it was that hardly anyone spoke to him, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure it mattered. The only person he interacted with on any kind of regular basis was Yennefer, who was something of an outcast at the keep herself, so Ciri thought she was probably just glad for someone to order around the stillroom where she holed herself up most days, mixing potions and testing out the edges of her newly-restored Chaos. It wasn’t anything to do with him, specifically, as far as she could tell.

She knew from listening to the witchers gossip (and no, overhearing was not eavesdropping, whatever Mousesack would say) that Jaskier and Geralt were friends (or used to be friends, it wasn’t clear), but she honestly couldn’t imagine why. They didn’t seem to have anything in common. Jaskier was just a human, not even a magical human or a warrior, just a man. There was nothing special about him at all, that she could see. Everyone called him a bard, but he didn’t even have an instrument, and she never heard him singing, plus she’d never even heard of him at court, so how good of a bard could he really be, anyway? Besides, he and Geralt barely even spoke, mostly since Jaskier seemed to all but bolt from any room Geralt entered before the witcher could think of something to say. He did his share of the chores without complaint, but he was always slower than everyone else, and she saw him wincing sometimes when he had to lift things or hold tools, like the very idea of working was painful. And it wasn’t like he had been much use on the trip back to Kaer Morhen, for all that Geralt had trusted him enough to get her home safely from Cintra. Which he had, incidentally, failed to do, since she didn’t even remember the second half of the trip after being possessed, but she knew he didn’t notice anything was wrong until it was too late.

Still, obvious weakness and uselessness aside, Jaskier was, inexplicably, still here, and part of Ciri was glad for it. Jaskier being here meant that she wasn’t the frailest person in the keep, and she hoped the witchers’ contempt would remain focused on the bard rather than on her, uncharitable though those thoughts may have been. It probably wasn’t kind of her to be grateful to have a target to throw under the proverbial wagon, but for all that she was the most magical person on the mountain and basically a grown woman now (she was thirteen, she would be getting her courses any day probably, and she was, for all intents and purposes, the rightful queen of Cintra- she was not a child, Lambert), she still felt impossibly small next to the ancient warriors and experienced magic users surrounding her. So yes, it was nice to be able to point at Jaskier and say, ‘Look, at least I’m not as pathetic as him.’ If this meant that she perhaps participated a little more loudly and enthusiastically in the mocking taunts Lambert and some of the other witchers directed his way, she could hardly be blamed for wanting to be part of their camaraderie. They were, after all, basically her family now.

She pretended very hard that Jaskier’s downcast eyes and slumped shoulders the few times he tried and failed to start a conversation with her didn’t make her feel anything at all.

She could feel Geralt’s disapproving eyes on her once or twice, but he couldn’t possibly understand feeling so powerless and alone, so why should he get to judge her? If he cared so much, maybe he should speak to Jaskier himself once in a while, or train him to use a sword, so at least he would maybe be good for something. She did feel a little guilty when Vesemir called them out in his own gruff way- scowling as he smacked Tolbert upside the head after a particularly mean joke about bards and brothel workers and assigning everyone who laughed extra chores- but not enough to stop. Yennefer was obviously unhappy with them, but just as clearly didn’t feel like she had the standing in the keep to demand changes to anyone’s behavior, so she made her displeasure known by pointedly avoiding everyone but Geralt, Vesemir, and Jaskier, and refusing to heal any training injuries or contribute to meals for anyone else. (This did perturb Ciri, since the only reason Yennefer was even here at all was to teach her magic. Ciri was still a princess at heart, and she didn’t appreciate being ignored, but she let it go for now, since she hadn’t quite forgiven the witch for nearly selling her out to Voleth Meir yet anyway. She would demand her due respect once she felt like she could be in a room with the sorceress without yelling at her, until then she was mature enough to let it lie.)

Still, even with the handy distraction of a droopy human minstrel, she knew she was still unacceptably weak, and she needed to hide that weakness at all costs. She found herself training longer hours than even any of the witchers, starting at dawn and not stopping until the sun had long set and Geralt or Vesemir forced her inside to eat and bathe, no matter how her muscles shook or her vision greyed at the edges. She wouldn’t fail. She was the Lion Cub of Cintra, the blood of Calanthe, she was Ilthilinne’s Prophesied, she was the daughter of the White Wolf, she refused to show weakness.

Even though she pushed herself to the point of collapse, even though she woke up every morning covered in bruises and scrapes and feeling like her muscles would seize up and lock her in place with pain, it was never enough to escape the nightmares. There were so many, now. She dreamed of Cintra burning. She dreamed of Mousesack’s face turned ashen and cruel, sizzling under her knife. She dreamed of her grandmother and Eist and Lazlo and Dara and Geralt and her parents all crumbling to dust, begging her to save them, begging her not to let them die again. She dreamed of looking out through her own eyes like looking out a tower window, unable to move or speak or scream, watching as her hands slit the throats of her friends, as her voice rent the air and tore her family to pieces. She dreamed of being left behind, of Geralt realizing how useless she really was, how impotent she would always be, and giving up on her in disgust. Sometimes she dreamed them all at once. No matter what the dream, she always woke after only a few hours sleep, drenched in sweat and tears, a scream caught in her throat and a sprinkling of dust from the stone walls of her room still shaking to the ground in the wake of her power.

She never got back to sleep after a nightmare, not right away, so she took to wandering the halls at night. She stayed away from the common areas and the bedrooms, choosing instead to explore the more deserted wings of the crumbling fortress. She ghosted through underground corridors overgrown with mold and rot, reeking of decay, with stains on the walls and floors that she couldn’t identify in the scant torchlight but hoped against hope weren’t blood. She picked her way carefully across partially collapsed battlements, hundreds of feet in the air, balanced precariously on fallen stones and rickety steps. She climbed tower after tower, turret after turret, marking the doors to the ones she had seen already but somehow always finding more. Those were her favorites. She would spend whole nights propped against a merlon, staring at the stars and wondering if everyone she’d lost was looking back at her. Those were the nights she was most likely to fail to make it back to bed, and Geralt would come find her in the morning, shivering in her sleep, and carry her back down to set her in front of a hearth until breakfast.

It was one of these nights when she first stumbled across Jaskier. She was climbing the steps to her favorite tower- the one with the view of the lake in the valley below the keep that reflected the stars so perfectly, facing east so she could watch the sun rise over the mountains if she stayed awake that long- when she heard noises coming from above her. No, not noises, music.

Yennefer had regained enough power the week before to portal out of the keep and back, and she had taken Jaskier with her and returned with bags of shopping for both of them (and only them, which Ciri found unspeakably rude. She might not have a kingdom anymore in the strictest sense, but she was still of royal blood- if anyone deserved nice things in this place it was her, surely?)- clothes and bathing oils and, to Ciri’s irritation, a lute. She told herself the annoyance was because now he would be playing at all hours, distracting everyone from their work, and her from her training, but the truth was she worried that if he became useful again as a bard, everyone might then notice how purposeless she was. Her fears had proved unfounded so far, as the bard hardly left his room since their return, only playing when no one was around to hear.

Or, apparently, when he thought no one was around, on account of it being the middle of the night and him being up a tower.

She thought about storming up the stairs and demanding he leave and give her back her spot, but she had to admit she was curious about his music. Geralt had to have kept him around for something; from what she could gather, they had traveled together longer than she had even been alive, and she couldn’t imagine what else he could have been good for. Maybe Geralt just really liked his music? She decided to wait here at the bottom of the staircase, just for a moment. Just to see what the fuss was about.

The strumming sounded a little...faltering? Or maybe just simplistic. It was just the same couple of chords over and over, she thought, if she was remembering correctly from her music lessons in Cintra. She’d never been particularly interested in music, so admittedly she had never paid much attention in those lessons, but she was fairly certain he was only playing two chords, and relatively simple ones at that. So much for the famed bard of the White Wolf, she snickered silently to herself. Then again, she thought magnanimously, he was several weeks out of practice, and she remembered how hard it had been to build up enough calluses that her harp lessons didn’t end in blood. She supposed she could sympathize with that, at least a little.

A voice filtered down to where she stood in the corridor, echoing slightly off the stones of the tower walls on its way. She had to admit, his singing was...pleasant. Soft and melodic, almost haunting in a way. He obviously wasn’t playing for an audience, and she found the gentleness of his voice at once compelling and uncomfortably intimate. She didn’t think she should be listening to this, but she found she didn’t want to leave.

“You are in the earth of me.

 My head’s not yours, it’s mine,

‘Cos you are in the earth of me.”

Something about this song- the words? The melody? The obvious pain in his voice?- tugged uncomfortably at something in her chest. It felt a little like she wanted to cry, but she didn’t know what about. Part of her wanted to run back to her room and never think about this song or this pathetic little man ever again, but she found herself rooted to the spot, straining to hear more.

As she stood here at the base of the tower, the strumming picked up speed suddenly, the melody becoming more complex. It even sounded like he was playing a drum at the same time, maybe he was drumming on the body of the lute in between chords? It must take a lot of coordination and practice to do it so smoothly, to make it sound like there really were two musicians up there. Maybe he was as good as he was supposed to be.

“Who’s left me, he’s left me at last,

 And I laugh, and I laugh,

‘Cos laughing right now,

 It’s all, it’s all that I have.”

His voice had taken on a whole new quality. He was no longer soft and grief-stricken. There was still something jagged and painful in his voice, but now it was harsh, angry, and there was a bitter laughter in it to match the lyrics. As she listened, the song continued to swell, volume increasing as Jaskier vented more and more anger and fear into his song. The words were more passionate, almost a conversation.

“I can’t do this!

 You can!

 I can’t do this!

 You can!

 I can’t do this!

 You can!

 I can’t do this, you don’t understand!”

The wanting-to-cry feeling was back, stronger this time. She felt like his song was coming straight from her, like he reached into her nightmares and pulled it out wholecloth. For a moment she was furious, thinking he must have written this about her, mocking her. Revenge for all the jokes and taunts she and the witchers had sent his way in recent weeks. But as she listened, it was clear that however much of her own truth she found in it, this song was being pulled out of Jaskier’s soul, not hers. No one could sing something like this, with so much feeling, unless they had experienced it themselves. She wondered what had happened to him, to make him feel this way.

“You’re not a coward ‘cos you cower,

 you’re brave because they broke you,

 yet broken, still you breathe.”

Her breath caught, hitching uncontrollably over the start of a sob. She didn’t know anyone else felt like that. She thought she was the only one who knew what it felt like to be so scared of being weak, of not being enough, of being too broken to matter to anyone anymore. It felt like he was singing just to her, like he was looking for exactly the words she needed to hear. She didn’t notice when her feet started to carry her up the stairs, needing to be closer to the music.

Jaskier was sitting on the edge of the wall, leaning against a merlon with one leg dangling off the outside. He was facing mostly away from her, eyes closed as he growled his pain to the night sky. She could see his face in profile, the lines around his eyes and his mouth twisted to display the same anguish she could hear in his voice. She leaned silently against the wall, hoping he didn’t look up and notice her before he finished. She wanted him to finish the song. She needed to hear how it ended.

“Where you see weakness,

 I see wit,

 Sometimes I fall to pieces

 Just to see what bits of me don’t fit.”

Slowly, as quietly as she could, she lowered herself to the floor to sit against the wall. She covered her mouth with her hand as she leaned her elbows on her knees, desperately holding in a sob. She couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks.

It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Weakness was weakness, she knew that. She had seen it. Her grandmother was strong- she did what she wanted and anyone who tried to stop her she ran through with her sword. That was strength. Strength was taking what was yours, weakness was not being able to stop others from taking from you. Right? That was true here at Kaer Morhen, too. The witchers were strong. They had muscles and magic and swords, and nothing could hurt them as long as they were strong enough to fight it off. Yennefer was strong, or at least she was now that she had her Chaos back. Before, she couldn’t stop people from taking things from her, from forcing her to go where she didn’t want to, from locking her up. Now she had power. Now she had strength, the strength to simply make sure anyone who tried to hurt her got hurt back. That’s what strength looked like. Not, not words. Not wit. Not letting yourself be broken on purpose. Jaskier was weak. Right? He had to be. He had to be, because if he wasn’t, then what was she?

But, Eist had been strong. And he could fight, when he had to, but he hated it. He liked words, and music, and art, and laughing. He liked games. He was nothing like Grandmother, but he was strong anyway, Ciri knew that much. And...and Dara had been strong. He didn’t like fighting either, and he hadn’t wanted to be around her when she brought violence and danger, and he had wanted to give up fighting and forget everything to stay with the dryads, and he had been afraid when he followed her into the forest and again when he followed her out of it, but those things didn’t make him weak. He was one of the strongest people she had ever met. He saved her life more than once. So maybe...maybe strength wasn’t all about fighting. Maybe there were more ways to be strong than just hurting people who tried to hurt you. But what did that make her, then? Was she weak because she was afraid of Voleth Meir, or of the man in the black winged helmet? Of losing control of herself and hurting people she loved? Was it weakness that she missed her family, that she wished Cintra had never fallen and she was still a princess? She was so confused, nothing made sense. Everything hurt so much.

She didn’t realize she had started sobbing until the music stopped suddenly and Jaskier’s shocked and worried voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Ciri? Princess, are you alright? What are you doing up here? What’s wrong?” He knelt in front of her, lute discarded on the ground beside him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I couldn’t sleep, and this is my favorite tower, and then you were singing and I wanted to listen and I’m sorry it won’t happen again I’m sorry I’m leaving-” She was scrambling to stand, ready to bolt down the stairs, abashed at having been caught invading his privacy so blatantly. Even if she made a point of being rude to him, this was out of line.

“Dear heart, it’s all right, I don’t mind. Sit, love, you’re going to slip and hurt yourself. Sit down and breathe with me, can you do that? Can you follow my breathing?” She hadn’t noticed that her breathing had gone rapid and shallow and she was struggling to take in air until right now. She looked up at him in a panic, shaking her head frantically.

His blue eyes were soft and kind, his expression open. “It’s alright, Ciri, I’m going to take your hand, alright? Can I touch you?” He waited for her to nod before taking her hand and placing it on his chest. “I’m going to count to four, I want you to breathe in for four and out for four. Feel my breathing under your hand, try to match that, ok? Here we go, that’s it.” He counted slowly, evenly, chest rising and falling smoothly under her hand. Her first few attempts were shaky but slowly the silver spots started fading from her vision and her racing heart gradually slowed. “Good, darling, you’re doing so well. Just keep breathing. Are you feeling a bit better?”

She nodded, feeling even more embarrassed now that she had been so pitiful as to break down in front of him. Especially since he had so readily helped her, been so unflinchingly kind, despite all the unkindness she had shown him since their arrival. She lowered her head in shame, hand falling back into her lap.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but he was still only inches from her, so she knew he heard.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, Ciri. Anxiety attacks happen to the best of us. They’re perfectly normal, and entirely to be expected given everything you’ve been through. Frankly I’d be more concerned if you weren’t having nightmares and anxiety, at this point. I promise, you have nothing to be ashamed of, alright?” She stared at him, caught somewhere between baffled and indignant.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I’m rude to you all the time, you should hate me.”

He smiled a little ruefully. “I can see why you might think that. But I was thirteen once, too, much more recently than anyone else in this place. I remember what it’s like. How confusing, how chaotic. How important it is to fit in, to be what it feels like everyone wants you to be. Most of the people here don’t think very much of me, it’s only natural you would pick up on that. You’re a clever girl, after all. Besides, you’ve been through gods know how many unspeakable horrors in the last year, of course you need someone to vent it on. I’m the obvious choice. I’m not angry, I promise.”

Somehow this was worse than anything else he could have said. She felt like a monster. How could he be so kind to her? So understanding? How could he just accept that his lot was to be the victim of everyone else’s senseless cruelty and directionless anger? How was that fair?

“That’s not fair! You haven’t done anything except be here and not be a witcher or a mage, that’s no reason to just- just- let everyone hate you! Why don’t you fight back? Why aren’t you angry at Lambert and everyone else at least?”

He huffed a laugh, another wry little smile on his face. “I would say you’ll understand when you’re older, but something tells me you won’t accept that bullshit from anyone, least of all me.”

“Fucking right I won’t. That’s what grownups say when they think you’re too stupid to know better, or when they don’t know the real answer. I’m basically a woman, I’m thirteen! It isn’t fair for everyone to keep treating me like a child!”

“Oh, Princess, I wish I could convince you not to be so quick to grow up. You’ve had so much taken from you, your childhood shouldn’t be added to the list. But you’re right, you deserve a real answer.” He heaved a great sigh and spun around until he was sitting next to her, back against the wall. “The truth is, Ciri, I don’t really think I belong here, either. So I suppose it doesn’t feel worth the trouble to stop everyone else from thinking it, too.”

“Why not? I thought you and Geralt were like, best friends, or something.”

“So did I, once. Now I’m not really sure what we are, or if we were ever really anything at all. But he said he needs me here, so here I shall stay until he changes his mind.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring out at the nearly-full moon, but she could still see the sadness etched on his face.

“But what about you? What do you want to do?” He barked a laugh for reasons she didn’t really understand, a harsh, angry thing. It reminded her of his song.

“You’re the only one who’s asked me that, dear heart, did you know? Well, except Yen, but against all odds and possibly my better judgement, she is, unfathomably, my best friend these days, so that barely counts, it’s basically her job.” He sighed again, propping his chin on his hand, arms braced on his knees. “I don’t rightly know what I want, Princess. Truthfully I haven’t been thinking about it much.”

“Because you’ve been writing that song instead?” That hadn’t been the question she’d meant to ask, but she really did want to know about the song, so that was alright probably.

He looked at her sharply, eyebrows raised. “I...I suppose it is. How much of the song did you hear, Ciri?”

She looked at the floor between her feet, unable to meet his eyes when confessing such a greivous violation of his privacy. “I’m not sure, it was very soft and quiet when I got here though, and it only started getting louder after I started listening. How did you make it sound like you had drums at the same time?”

He grinned, which was...not the reaction she was expecting, and stretched across the tower floor to grab his lute. “That’s a trick I taught myself when I was a student, mostly to show up one of my classmates who insisted that real music needed to be played by a full quartet at least. I told him if you couldn’t make good music with the instrument in front of you, then you couldn’t make good music at all. And then I proved I could imitate the sound of multiple musicians by myself anyway, and it made him fucking furious! It was brilliant. Putting Valdo in his place was always my favorite part of school. And honestly, I think it can be very evocative to have more than one sound going, but I’m certainly never going to tell him that. Besides, I was right, music is about the musician, not the instrument. Instruments are tools. I loved my old lute more than I love my own leg, but I’m perfectly capable of making music without it, any good bard is. Why, Geralt can tell you, when he picked me up from jail before we found you in Cintra, I was playing a pair of spoons! And quite brilliantly if I do say so myself. Music is about the feeling. The sound is a means to an end. A very important means, but the real trick is to be able to use the sound to tell a story or create a feeling. You can use any kind of sound, you know? A good musician can make you cry using nothing but a whistle! Some of the most honest music I’ve ever heard comes from ordinary people, peasants, no training, no instruments, just their voices, their hands, singing to themselves as they go about their lives, and it’s- Ciri it’s beautiful! It’s not trying to be anything it isn’t. There’s no pretension, no vanity, just music for the joy of music. That’s what it’s about, you know? That’s why I love it. My classmates didn’t understand why I wanted to be a traveling bard instead of securing a court position, but out there, in the world, that’s the only place music has any soul! At court it’s all just- sound. Noise. Empty, you know? My parents didn’t understand. They’d have disowned me for disgracing the family by playing for “filthy common tavern-goers” except I’ve only got sisters, so they’ll have to give the estate to my cousin Ferrant if they do, and they hate Ferrant. Even more than they hate me, which is saying something. It doesn’t matter though, I’ll never go back. I’d rather be penniless and sleeping in the woods, as long as I have the music, you know?” He looked at her expectantly, his eyes clear and glittering, a bright smile on his face.

She blinked at him. That was...so many words. So very many words. More words than she’d heard anyone say since she got here, combined. Lambert had made a few cracks about Jaskier never shutting up, which hadn’t made any sense to her until this moment.

His eyes went wide, and a flush rose rapidly to fill his whole face. “Oh, oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so much at you. I do that sometimes, I ramble. It drives- drove Geralt crazy. I’m so sorry!” He looked genuinely upset, like he was worried he’d offended her somehow. She wasn’t sure why, but she sort of hated that he looked like that. Sure, it was a little overwhelming to suddenly have all of that information dumped on her, but it was sort of nice, too. She liked hearing someone be so passionate about something other than monsters and killing and the balance and order of Chaos, Ciri, you’ll have to understand these concepts when we start our lessons so I expect you to have read these texts in full by then. It was nice to hear someone just be...happy about something. To be excited about the world, instead of telling her all the reasons she should be afraid of it. She wanted to communicate this to Jaskier, but she wasn’t sure how.

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind. It was kind of a lot, but it’s nice that you’re passionate about something. No one here is happy about things, they talk about what to expect in the world, on the Path, but it’s all warnings and training, and ‘don’t do this, Ciri, don’t say that, Ciri, never lose sight of your sword, Ciri, don’t talk to strangers unless you have to, Ciri, they probably want to sell you to Nilfgaard.’ It’s exhausting. It’s nice to hear someone be excited about traveling and meeting people. I don’t really understand music at all, I was never very good at my lessons and Grandmother decided they were a waste of time, but I really liked the song you were playing. It was pretty, but also, it sort of...hurt? But in a good way. I don’t really know.” She flushed, embarrassed. That was so much more than she meant to say. He probably thought she was an idiot, now.

“Thank you, dear heart. That’s very nice to hear.” When she looked up, he was smiling at her softly. “And the song...that’s how it’s supposed to feel, so I’m glad you connected with it. I wrote it about- well, never mind what I wrote it about, what matters is that you enjoyed it. You’ve had a very hard year, I’m glad I could offer some catharsis.” He was fidgeting with his hands, running his thumb in circles around the pads of his fingers, when he flinched suddenly and hissed.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is it calluses? My fingers hurt so much when I had to learn how to play the harp, and I know you haven’t played since you got here, did you lose all your calluses?”

“Uh, no, it’s not- um. It’s not my calluses, although that’s an excellent guess, and I can definitely relate to the pain of learning the harp, I hated the harp in school, could never get the hang of the elbows, but, uh. It’s nothing. Not to worry, nothing worth fretting over. I’ll be just fine.” He didn’t look just fine. He looked flustered, and a little scared, though why he would he scared she couldn’t imagine.

“That’s silly, the others are just going to notice at breakfast anyway, they can always smell when I’m in pain. It’s so annoying. I don’t know how they expect me to get stronger if I don’t train harder, and I have to get hurt in training if I want to get better. I wish they wouldn’t fuss. But you might as well let me look now. I’m pretty good at field medicine, Geralt said so. He let me help him sometimes while we were on the road from Sodden the first time. I’m good, I promise!” She made a grab for his hand but he yanked it back before she could reach it. He looked…he looked crushed, for some reason. What had she said to make him look so sad?

“It’s, uh. You know what, don’t worry about it, Princess. I’m sure you’re an excellent medic, I’ve dressed enough of Geralt’s wounds to know how much skill that takes, but I promise they won’t notice. Or at least, they won’t be too worried. They haven’t the whole time we’ve been here, so it really is fine.”

“Why wouldn’t they care? Geralt at least will, and I think Vesemir likes you. Wait, what do you mean, the whole time? Have you been hurt since we got here? Was it…,” she quieted a little, shame sweeping through her. “Was it the battle? Did you get injured while I was...when I…,”

His eyes go wide, and he grabs her hand, tilting her chin up to look at him with the other hand. His skin feels strange where his fingers rest on her cheek, smooth and rough at the same time somehow.

“Darling girl, do not apologize for anything that happened that day. You are not responsible for what Voleth Meir did with your body, you are every bit as much a victim of her violence as the rest of us. You did nothing wrong, do you understand me? Please do not think that any of that was your fault, please promise me.” His blue eyes were so big and round and earnest, swimming with tears. How strange to think those tears were for her. She didn’t understand this man at all.

“It was my body, though. And...and I could hear Geralt calling, but I didn’t want to leave. She made me think I was back in Cintra, and my family was alive, and I knew it wasn’t real, but I still wanted to stay. I let her hurt all those witchers, just because I wanted to stay. I was selfish, and childish, and weak, and it was my fault if you got hurt.” He still had a hand on her face, so she closed her eyes to escape his scrutiny instead. This man had been nothing but kind to her when she didn’t deserve it, but this was surely the last straw. She didn’t want to see the concern in his eyes turn to disgust. There was a reason she hadn’t told anyone the truth about the dream world Voleth Meir locked her in.

“Oh, Ciri. Sweet child. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I’m so sorry she forced you to lose them twice, that wasn’t fair. That must have hurt so much. Have you been carrying around that guilt, all this time?” She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, feeling tears leaking out between her lashes, and nodded slightly. “Oh, love, you poor thing. It was not your fault, do you understand? Please hear me now, even if you don’t believe anything else I say. You are not to blame, alright? She was a monster, and she hurt you, and she hurt your family, and you sent her away. You saved us all, darling. It was not your fault.”

There were strong arms around her, holding her tight to a deceptively broad chest, and she realized she was shaking. “Shh, darling, it’s alright. That’s it, it’s ok. It’s all going to be ok. I’m so sorry, love, it will be alright.” He murmured more reassuring nonsense to her as he rocked her gently back and forth, just like Grandmother used to when she was very small. Eventually he started humming softly. She was distantly startled to realize that she recognized the tune, an old Skelliger lullabye. Eist used to sing it to her when she couldn’t sleep. The sound made her cry some more, but luckily he seemed to understand and he didn’t stop, just gathered her closer to his chest and kept humming.

Eventually her sobs tapered off and she found herself on the edge of sleep.

“Come on dear heart, up we come. There we go. Let’s get you back to bed, shall we?” She should maybe have been surprised when he stood with her still in his arms, one behind her back and one under her legs, easy as anything, but she was too tired and comfortable to care. She was vaguely aware of a faint twanging sound as he slung his lute across his shoulder without even shifting her weight, and then of the moonlight disappearing as they descended the stairs, but she was so soothed by the rocking motion of his steps and the steady beating of his heart that she didn’t remember dropping into a dreamless sleep before they even reached the bottom.

For once, she had no more nightmares that night.

#the witcher #twn #the witcher fanfiction #ciri of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #witcher vesemir #witcher coen #the amazing devil #the old witch sleep and the good man grace #geraskier #dadskier #my writing #wip #songfic #sleep now she pleads

[phoebejaysims]

Hi! I love your blog! Your amazing mods and your tillage rotation has inspired me so much in my own gameplay. I don't know if you take mod requests, but I was wondering if it would be possible to create a mod that functions like your hairdresser mod, but with therapy instead. Like the therapist is assigned to a chair and people can sit in it and get advice. If your not interested in making it, how easy do you think it would be for someone who has never programmed before to do? I assume it wouldn't be too hard bc it would just use interactions that are already in the game, but with different names. Could I use your hairdresser mod as a reference code thingy? How did you get started modding and learn what you know now? Sorry for the long ask! I hope it's not too much trouble!

Hiya! Thank you so much haha! I never imagined, when I started this Tumblr, that anybody would really get inspiration from my gameplay (or that I'd even start modding) so that means a lot!

As for the therapy mod, the very talented @olomayasims is currently developing a private clinic mod, which includes therapy, so it is definitely possible!

For someone who has never programmed before, once you get the basics of C# down, and also get familiar with the methods that EA used to code the sims (how they structure interactions, naming conventions, etc.) I think it would be more time-consuming than anything else. So as a very first project, unless you don't mind taking it at a slow pace and keeping the mod simple, I wouldn't exactly recommend it.

My best advice, and what helped me the most, is to look at EA's code and other modders' code (on that note, feel 100% free to use my code as a reference) to see how they did things.

In my hairdresser mod, I looked at EA's Celebrity manager to find out how they coded all the 'impress celebrity' interactions and used that format to code my own 'impress client' interactions. Once I knew the method, it was a matter of adapting it for my own use. For example, for the exact same method, here is EA's code (top) vs my code (bottom), you can see how much it changed:

Once you know the terminology, googling any minor problem you have will also be a life saver! Otherwise, there are always simmers that are willing to help on Mod The Sims or the Sims 3 Creator's Discord.

All that to say: if you want to start modding, go for it! It doesn't matter if your first code is a mess (mine was, and yet the mod still worked great. And tbh, a LOT of EA's code is janky too), as you go along, you'll pick up things that will make it better/easier for yourself.

Thanks for the ask. Don't worry about the length :p

#phoebejaysims #thanks for the ask #sims coding tips #modding tips

[acacia-may]

Hello there, Acacia! I hope you're doing well. And since I saw you were doing it too, I thought to reach out and ask if you would be willing to answer questions 6, 20, and 25 for the fic writer ask game?

Thank you so much for the well wishes and for your ask, Erika! 💙 I appreciate it very much! 🥰

My answers got a little long so I've included them below the cut!

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction?

I think it depends on the fandom since certain ones seem to have more fics on particular sites (which seems to correlate to how old the fandom is). Most of the time I will search by character or pairing and then rating (and/or tags as well if I'm on AO3 which I only started using more regularly earlier this year since there seems to be quite a bit more Black Clover fic on there than other places), and then I will go through these binges where I'll read whatever I can find (that is my cup of tea) about that particular character or pairing. Other times, I will really like a particular writer's work: their style and/or interpretation of the character(s) and will read through most of their writing on topics that interest or intrigue me. Additionally, I try to read and comment on something by each author who comments constructively on any of my fics when we write for the same fandom (or a fandom that I know), so I have found a lot of my favourite fics that I probably wouldn't have read otherwise that way. Now that I've started spending more time on Tumblr, I've definitely been reading more fic on here as well.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

I definitely enjoy the brainstorming stage the most, I think. It's lots of fun to play with different ideas, and I really enjoy imagining what the characters would say or do if thrown into these different scenarios. When I have time, I try to walk through the scene in my mind before I write it, and depending on how it goes (often times there is some sort of breakdown that has to be reworked), I'll get to explore several different possibilities for the scene. I have lots of fun playing with that!

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

YES! All the time! I am so happy I got asked this question. Thank you so much! 🥰 Music is a huge inspiration for me usually (and a lot of my fic and/or fic chapter titles actually come from songs I listened to while I was working on the particular story).

Since I usually write shorter fics, I only listen to a handful of songs (sometimes only one) per story, but my multi-chapter fic ideas would definitely get their own playlist (I just haven't had the time for any big projects like that yet). I have playlists I've made for certain characters or groups (like the Black Bulls for instance) and these songs will often appear on those though [For instance, at least a third of my Langris Vaude playlist (linked here in case anyone is curious) is made up of songs I listened to while I was working on "Wine Therapy"]. Sometimes the inspiration is more about the vibe of the song or just one line or stanza rather than the whole thing though. I will listen to the song(s) on repeat during the brainstorming and outlining phase, but generally will turn the music off when I'm writing (unless it is classical/doesn't have words) so I don't get distracted and start writing song lyrics accidentally...😅

Since I don't have a playlist for any particular fic I've written yet, I've decided to link a couple of songs that inspired the titles for some of my fanfictions below instead:

"Pancakes for Dinner" by Lizzy McAlpine was the first song to inspire a title for one of my Black Clover fics and inspired my first ever Rillmy story (also featuring Charmy's friendships with Finral and Vanessa). Tumblr Link Here.

"Maybe My Soulmate Died" by: iamnotshane inspired a YamiChar soulmate tattoo AU written for YamiChar Week 2022. Tumblr link here.

"Broken Angel" by: Boyce Avenue inspired an Astelle role-reversal AU where Noelle is the one without magic for Astelle Week 2022. AO3 link here.

As an added bonus, Langris actually plays this piece in "Through a Rainy Window" (AO3 link here), and I listened to this song so much while working on that story that it actually made it in my Spotify wrapped for the year 😅

Thank you so much again for the ask! Cheers!! 💖

#answered asks #thank you for the ask!! #erika 💙 #i love listening to music when i'm wrangling fic ideas--maybe too much... 😅 #fic writing ask game

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Another One

by Lompio

What if Danny was really a clone of Bruce Wayne that his parents accidentally made when they were trying to do something relating to ghosts and unethical experimentation? But Imagine Danny trying to find his birth records for a school project and he just can't find them. A Danny Fenton is Bruce Wayne's clone AU, a Tumblr prompt from the lovely @minnesota-fats on Tumblr.

Words: 2344, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, DCU, Teen Titans - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Jack Fenton, Tucker Foley, Sam Manson, Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Paulina Sanchez, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane

Relationships: Sam Manson/Paulina Sanchez, Tim Drake & Danny Fenton, Bart Allen & Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent & Cassie Sandsmark, Danny Fenton/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jack Fenton & Jazz Fenton & Maddie Fenton, Danny Fenton & Danielle "Dani" Phantom

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Clones, Tumblr Prompt, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Tags Contain Spoilers, Idiots in Love, Danielle "Dani" Fenton & Danny Fenton Are Siblings, Danny Fenton is a cheerleader, Danny Fenton Needs Therapy, Kon-El | Conner Kent is Superboy, Kon-El | Conner Kent Needs a Hug, Danny Fenton-centric, Kon-El | Conner Kent-centric, Clark Kent is Kon-El | Conner Kent's Parent, Kon-El | Conner Kent Feels, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Lesbian Sam Manson, Good Friend Tucker Foley, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/42147663

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

[queerdesire]

September 30, 2022

It's been a minute since my last update.

What have I accomplished this week? Well I drove for the first time in the dark last night and honestly I think I smiled all the way home. I'm getting so much more comfortable driving and it's starting to feel so fucking good. I'm hoping to have my license by the end of the year. Driving is not as scary and anxious as I always imagined. I'm proud of myself for this.

Let's see what else am I proud of? Oh! I have paid all my bills but two, both are due on the 6th so not late but I'll probably do it right now as all the other payments should of went through. I'ma be a broke ass bitch but it feels so fucking good to be able to pay everyone time.

I also deleted some girls number! She's been semi dicking me around for a month, and I let her >.< She was the one who hit me up and was interested and wanted to go on a date. I was going with the flow of it. Started out texting strong and things like that but then it became 8 separate times of excuses. Like we were not anything where a conversation of her no longer interested would of been perfectly okay. I even said as much during excuse number 6 lmao. But deleting her phone number and not replying back to her bs felt good. And then my toxic side may have left her on Snapchat 🙈🤡, I don't look at her snaps but she has replied to three of my hot story ones since I've deleted her number and ignore last excuse text and it feels kinda good to be like yeah I'm hot and you missed out. Even if it's in my head and even if that may be a bit toxic lol regardless I'm glad I was able to be like I'm done, and it was okay that it took me a month 😭 because I still was able to stop the pattern instead of continue the pattern of letting ppl use me like that.

I've had two therapy sessions now, the first session I felt hella guilty leaving and the second one I felt like I was on a good high. I was given therapy homework though and I haven't accomplished it :( and I don't think I will before Tuesday. I'm supposed to go out with someone and do something out of my comfort zone. The issue with this assignment is I'm scared to ask ppl to hang out that I wouldn't normally cuz that fear of the rejection and I guess that's the whole point. I did ask a girl one hinge if she wanted to hangout in person and I didn't get a reply so I'ma go with that as my assignment completed lmfao. Oooh and in therapy my therapist at one point said "I'm seeing a pattern here do you?" And I didn't so hopefully I will see the pattern she spoke of with the more sessions I have as she didn't tell me lmao.

Hmm what else? Oh completely over my ex! Well for the most part. Obviously I'll always wish it would be different but I've come with terms that she will never want to be friends and I haven't looked at her socials so much so that I missed her bday lol so that felt like a win. Only looked at her socials the last few days. But to be honest I think I'm using Tumblr as a distraction 😅 I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing tho.

Let's see what else...oh the new job is going very well! Last night it felt so easy, I think I asked someone one question and I remembered to bring silly things like the pizza stand, app plates, pepper mill, instead of forgetting until last minute. Oh and a coworker has now started to play with my hair and honestly makes me feel a bit loved, as touch is my love language. She's super sweet. Also last night one of the "favorites" told me I was, "the better new servers" and that I am a "hard worker" my cocky ass knew this, my cocky ass knew i would be but I can't say that :P I'm playing a political game here. But I said thank you lol oh and I was sitting next to some girls and they included me in conversation and one was like yeah when deena first met me she told me she thought I was gonna be a bitch 😅😂. So then everyone wanted to know what I thought about them. One of the girls was like did you think I was gonna be mean? And I told her yes I said "we didn't speak until Sunday!! So yes I thought you were going to be mean but you're very nice." Turns out she told me she's shy and I 100% can see that. I did not tell any of them that I think all pretty girls are going to be mean because they are hot lmao

I don't think anything else happened this week that is note worthy. I havent cried or felt hopeless in awhile and that is a wonderful feeling. I honestly think that has to do with therapy tho.

My period is very late and I'm pregnant jk jk jk 😂 but it is late af. That bitch needs to get here.

OOOH I REMEMBERED SOMETHING. One of my best guy friends works at my new job, he is why I went there. And a different coworker came up to me and was like "do you know Sean talks about you alot?" "I think he likes you" etc etc. And I was dying absolutely trying not to laugh because Sean is such a homie, I would say brother but we playfully flirt sometimes to hype the other up so what ever that makes him. But I had to explain to the coworker that Sean is a close friend, my homie is how I think I worded it. The dude was so small minded though and wouldn't stop and I was like I'm extremely gay and Sean knows this so there isn't anything between us. (I think it's because Sean and I hug at work) because the kid still didn't let it go. I went over to Sean immediately after and him and I got a huge laugh. Sean also said he had never even spoke to the dude before lmfao so I'm real confused but find it amusing nonetheless.

#working on a better me #working towards a better me #mine #personal

[i--antimony]

gut shabbospost

in the posting mines

listening: officially in partizan proper! i'm almost done with episode 1, i'm still in the "who are these people i do not care yet" phase of starting a new fatt season but it'll sink in soon. i knew a little about twilight mirage going into it but i know literally nothing about partizan beyond the name clementine kesh and that janine played a big deer robot so it's very exciting to see where it goes! i also listened to more synthtober and downloaded a new podcast that i have not started yet called the 7 bells podcast and it's a readthrough of the old kingdom trilogy because mentally i am back in that cycle of Ough Abhorsen

reading: perchance to dream (jinkandtherebels): xiyao dream incense but used in non-horny ways! very innovative for dream incense considering canon imo. forever onward, scion (oldestenemy): wizard101 fic, found it linked on tumblr, standard darkfic fare of Man This Could Be Fucked Up Or What but i liked the way it was written

watching: i watched invasion of the body snatchers (1956) on monday! helped run a grad student halloween movie night for my department, turnout was good enough that we actually ran out of pizza which was awesome. i'd never seen it before somehow so it was fun, definitely goofy in the 1950s movie way (when he slapped the kid's ass on the way out of the office in the beginning.........), i'm not 100% sure why the ending was the way it was? like, i feel like it would have been more interesting to leave the viewer in suspense of "oh no, will he be believed eventually?? will the pod people take over entirely???" instead of wrapping it up in a neat little bow. also "operator, please wire me in to the fbi/the governor" made me laugh a lot. imagine doing that today. making: laptop case done!! and i need to try on my tank top to make sure the straps are long enough but that's almost done too. pottery from the week attached as a screenshot of a fb message because i don't want to upload all of them here and can't be assed to paste them all into one canvas haha

misc: just got out of my first grief therapy session and i feel like a wrung-out rag :D which i KNOW means that it's good for me or whatever but ough. oughhh. also something might be really broken with my research stuff. im running something now to see if it fixes it but i have the Fear at the moment. this weekend i am going to drive for an hour to a bigger city to buy glaze because i kinda hate the glaze that my teacher provides, sorry angela, and then that way i can glaze things at home in between classes :3 but i need to figure out something else to do while i'm there so i don't drive an hour each way just for One Thing. i can go to trader joes. i can try and hit some of the good thrift stores. that's probably enough stuff.

#tuesdayposting