Tumgik
#including but not limited to how difficult it was (and is) to exist as a trans person
jayrockin · 7 days
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With tube plants, I’m really curious if any are edible, and if so what’re they like, and how avian culture sees them. While Taxonomically they’re animals, does avian culture consider them plants? For a random example, let’s say the avians, like us, had a religious period where they can’t eat meat. Would worm plants be considered off limits, or the same as anything else? Not saying that religion or whatever exists, it’s just the first frame of reference I could think of. Another example might be how fungi are considered vegetables, but are an entirely different kingdom.
As for eating, I’m curious if they have a more meat-like texture and taste, or a more plant-like one. I’m assuming the former. If they’re eaten, what are the parts that are eaten and how are they usually prepared? Do the avians have any traditions or culture regarding the tube, like we do with wishbone breaking or bone carving? Is it possible to farm them, and are they?
Avian cultures usually classify plantworms in the same group of food as shellfish, which they resemble the most nutritionally. They are more like a clam than a plant. Many are toxic as a defense against being eaten, but the ones avians can consume are usually cooked whole (in or out of shell) unless a specific body part is unpalatable (usually the gut or frond tentacles). For larger worms, they may be trimmed down to the tastiest part, the retractor muscle. It's very possible to farm them, and many are also cultivated for their beauty as landscaping plants. Their tubes are most commonly used to make plaster for building, or beads.
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Vegetarianism is overall more rare in avian cultures than ours because they have a higher calorie-per-pound requirement than humans and many live on small islands where grain agriculture is more difficult to live off exclusively than fishing. There are several grades of culturally distinct pescetarian diets in modern avian cultures though, some of which view eating large "vertebrates" as unacceptable, land animals as unacceptable, vertebrates in general as unacceptable, only plantworms are acceptable, or hardline only plant matter and eggs (which may or may not include plant worm "leaves and flowers"... which can grow back). Hardline vegetarianism or veganism is more common among flightless avian cultures, who historically have had the most arable land.
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zooone · 7 months
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as above, so below
╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.
one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader
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𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.
all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please <3
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing
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she had a lot of questions about wilbur.
not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"
all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.
to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.
unless he had something to do about it.
-
he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.
"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"
"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.
"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.
her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.
she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.
"why not, wilbur?"
he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.
"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.
he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.
"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"
they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.
he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.
"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.
he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.
but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.
the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.
"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.
"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.
yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.
he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.
he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.
that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.
"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.
"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.
"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.
he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.
"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."
"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."
quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."
wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.
it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.
"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"
he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.
"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.
"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"
"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.
wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.
he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.
he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.
he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.
and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.
the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.
"wilbur!"
and his routine was ruined.
"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"
"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."
wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.
"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.
"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.
and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."
wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.
instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.
"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."
wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."
he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"
wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.
he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".
he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.
he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.
he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.
as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.
from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-
"wilbur! there you are!"
he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"
he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.
"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"
before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.
she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"
"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."
she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."
"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.
she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.
what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.
"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.
she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."
wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.
she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.
"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.
"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."
"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.
he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.
"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"
"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.
"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"
he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."
"right now."
as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.
there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.
"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.
"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."
he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"
she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."
he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.
"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.
she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."
the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."
"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"
"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.
he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.
she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."
"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.
"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"
he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.
"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"
why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.
"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"
he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.
"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"
wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.
"it's.. it's fine."
he definitely blundered.
he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.
she leaned forward. "how is it?"
it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.
"it's.. okay, i guess."
"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"
he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.
"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.
"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."
she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.
there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.
he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.
"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"
at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.
he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.
he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.
he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.
wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.
he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.
he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.
he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.
it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.
he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.
he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.
he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.
wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.
he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.
tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.
"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."
wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.
"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"
wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.
that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.
"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."
"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"
"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.
"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."
wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.
"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."
he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.
wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.
there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.
shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.
"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"
wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.
"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"
he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."
she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?
"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."
wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"
"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"
"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."
he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.
in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.
the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"
"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.
as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.
it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.
that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?
but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.
it was her flower crown and gummy worms.
wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.
he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.
he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.
but, she still cared about him.
wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.
he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.
he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.
he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.
sure enough, it was from her.
"dear wilbur!
hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.
i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.
it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!
ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"
he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.
it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.
as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.
"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."
"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"
oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?
tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"
"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."
"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"
"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.
"do you have a date?"
wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."
"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"
wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"
"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"
wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.
"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."
tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.
"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"
wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.
he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.
wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.
he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.
he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.
he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.
it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.
he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.
still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.
he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.
his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?
although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.
wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.
"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"
tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."
quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”
“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”
they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.
he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.
“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”
tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”
tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.
quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.
“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”
“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”
“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."
"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."
as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.
“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”
wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.
when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”
“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”
“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”
“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”
“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.
“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”
“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”
“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.
“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”
the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.
“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.
“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”
wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.
his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.
uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.
his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-
"do you have a favorite flavor?"
it all snapped away.
"uh- um, well, um-"
how was she able to do that?
"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."
unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."
"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.
shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.
"do.. do i bite-"
"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.
god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.
he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.
and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.
he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."
"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.
as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."
"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."
his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.
it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.
and the worst part? she noticed.
"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.
"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."
she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.
wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.
she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.
in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.
"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.
"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"
"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.
his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”
he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.
she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”
wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.
he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.
he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.
she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”
her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”
“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”
his heart was wrapped in thorns.
it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.
“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”
her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.
“except for you.”
she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.
“me?” he whispered softly.
immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.
“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”
she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.
“it was all i wanted in that moment.”
his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.
“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.
in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-
“but you always hated me.”
she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.
and the worst part; she was unphased.
wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”
“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.
a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”
“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"
what?
"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”
his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.
she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.
“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”
he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.
why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-
oh.
oh.
it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.
the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.
his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.
"hello? wilbur?"
"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.
"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.
"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.
his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.
"wilbur-"
"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"
and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.
his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.
he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.
tommy's keycard.
-
he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.
he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.
he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.
to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.
"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"
"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.
with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"
"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.
she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.
as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.
"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"
his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"
"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."
"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"
she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.
"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"
"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"
at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.
and he almost didn't catch her.
tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.
"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.
"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"
he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.
did he not remember? or did he choose not to?
when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.
"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"
"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"
"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."
"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.
a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.
"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.
and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.
her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.
but what if it really was a trick?
her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.
she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.
she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.
as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.
quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."
his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.
but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.
and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.
-
wilbur's day went on horribly.
he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.
his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.
work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.
he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.
but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.
"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"
was it?
"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"
it couldn't be.
"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"
he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.
he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.
worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.
-
she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.
not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"
and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.
one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.
unless he's got the courage to do something about it.
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11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!
taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin
thank you so much for your read, i appreciate all of the support <33 a part two is indeed coming soon!! stay tuned
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intersexcat-tboy · 1 month
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It's so silly to think that trans men have "an easier time claiming womanhood" when "trans men can't be lesbians" and hostility as a masc in feminine spaces exist (transandrophobia includes the bigotry butches face btw, bigotry isn't limited to a specific identity)
TERFs and GCs claim to include trans men, but it's only the idea. Once they actually meet us and talk directly, they treat us as predators. Once we're there (by choice or force), they ask us to leave (often violently).
They automatically treat gay trans mascs as rapists trying to enforce conversion therapy on cis gay men.
It also ignores race, like how black women already have to fight for their rightful place and are constantly degendered and (perceived as) hypermascualized. (I often hear some black trans men talking about how they aren't women, but they are still Black Women bc Black Woman is its own expierence bc of intersections). How difficult it can be for trans mascs to get gynecologic care, from dealing with insurance to dealing with people.
I see far too many posts talking about how people often stopped talking to them, started being mean, outright losing their entire support system by being kicked out of (or ghosted from) friend + support groups.
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asumofwords · 8 months
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Smoke, Fire and Ash
Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Angst, grief, sorrow, fighting.
This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.
Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)
Masterlist
Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.
Note: Hello angels, here is the next chapter hehe, bit of a sad one but what do we expect from SF&A at this point? Lmaooo. I've almost completely finished writing the whole series, so updates may become more regular as I pump it all out for you. What a journey this has been! Enjoy <3
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Chapter 92: Burn Together
To say that things went back to normal would be a farce.
It was all a farce. 
The fake smiles. The small nods. The words of affirmation and condemnation. The false sense of security and even falser acts of content. It was all wrong. It was all changed. And it was all too much.
You spend much of your days in the Garden, sat where you were usually seated, staring out at the water as you tried to uphold some sense of strength. Tried to show some vision of superiority and that the loss of the child was divine intervention. As though the anger and hurt had gone, as though the sadness and regret had left, because you knew it was for the better, or perhaps the Gods had told you so. 
Words came to you rarely as you began to shrink into yourself again, but with each shrinking moment came the bursting strikes of life. Not happiness or joy, not frustration or longing, pure and uncontested rage.
Rage that it happened.
Rage that he had done nothing.
Rage at your stupidity.
Rage at your desire for more.
Aemond did not try to pry words from you, nor did he even try to touch you. He simply let you exist around him, giving you the space to come to him when needed. Late at night, in the darkness of the chambers you would roll to face him, and the most bitter of sobs would leave your lips. 
At first Aemond had been uncertain, and stayed still amongst the sheets, unsure of whether or not to hold you or offer you support. But when you had rolled and pressed yourself into his side, his arms had curled around you in a way that felt natural, as though your body was made to fit between his in such a way, and let you cry against his chest. 
Your clothes, your maids noticed, had begun to wear large on you, finding that you had no want to eat nor any appetite to do so. Even with the gentle encouragement of them both, you still did not find the heart to do it, looking at the bowl of star fruit in front of you, stomach full of lead. 
But Aemond allowed you to do it. 
He allowed you to grieve, but at some point, everyone has their limit, and it seemed that tonight was the night for his. 
“You need to eat, Y/n. You need move past this grief. Do not let it consume you.” He implored, grasping at your cheeks.
You pulled away from him, looking up at him with a shaky lip, “Nothing you do will ever make this okay! Nothing you say will take away what you have already done, or what you are to do.”
“What are you talking about?” He questioned, deep lines in his brow.
“This! Us!” You broke, “All of it. It seems as though the Gods have destined us with nothing but pain and agony, and how much more must I bear? My heart cannot take it, Aemond.” A tear slid down your cheek, “I am tired, but more than this I am so alone. So very much alone even with you standing in front of me. Even as I can reach out and touch you with mine own hands. Even as you promise me sweet nothings, I know that it will never be enough to satiate the hungers of the punishments I will soon be lashed with.”
Aemond shook his head, stepping forward towards you again, “Do you think I am going to hurt you? I’m not going to punish you for losing the child. It was not your fault.”
A sob fell from your lips, “Then why do I feel one coming? Why do I always feel as though I am one hair away from your cruelty? We take one step forward together and five steps back. I have given you everything, and yet what do you give me? Nothing. You did nothing. You stood there and watched as I was brought before Aegon. What if it had been me? I thought it was going to be me! And you stood there like a craven and just watched.”
His violet eye blinked at you, the sapphire beside it, still.
You sucked in a breath again, “You watched as your precious wife, the mother to your child, was brought to the throne by force. You watched as Aegon threatened to take my tongue. And what did you do, Aem? You stood there and did fucking nothing!” Anger rose within you, bubbling viciously beneath your skin, “You stood there like a craven as your brother accused me of treason! Your wife! Your supposed love! Your one childhood companion who did nothing but defend you, no matter the odds or punishment! It has always been me. I have been the only one to ever love you. The only one to ever care. The only one to ever defend you. How many times did I do that for you? From the training yard, to the dragon pit, to the Sept. And when the time came for you to defend my honour, you were that same, scared little boy who would hide in the tunnels after his brother would tease him.” Heat rose on your cheeks as you looked at your uncle, his face stern and his eye narrowed.
"You expected me to do what?" Aemond snapped, "What did you expect me to do in that moment? I was not even told you were being brought to the chambers. I could not have possibly done anything that would not have made it worse. If Aegon had seen me react, he would have delighted in the sight and been moved to do more."
You scoffed, “I am burdened with being wed to a coward who hides behind the illusion of duty. A man who cannot even stand up to his drunken, pathetic, whoring brother.” You forced out a humourless laugh, watching as Aemond became irritated, “My husband who rides the largest dragon in the world, my husband who is a skilled warrior; sits and waits to be told what to do like a dog. Doing everyone else’s bidding.” You stepped closer to him, eyeing him down, “If I had not seen your cock, I would have suspected you were a eunuch.”
“My duty is to my brother, to my mother. To my blood.” He sneered.
“And what of my blood, Aemond? What of our union? What of the prophesies from the Gods? Did they not command you to act as you watched me be dragged by men into the throne room? That babe may have been the Prince that was Promised, and now it is gone. Because of you.”
Aemond huffed, “I could do naught! He is my brother. He is the King.”
“And I am your wife! And the blood of the dragon between us runs thicker than the water of the womb you have shared. Like a scared little boy. Never have I seen you so pathetic. You left me for dead.”
Aemond scowled, “I would never do that to you.”
“And yet, you did. You left me at the hands of your brother. And you watched. You have only lost one eye, yet you are so blinded by your duty to them. I feel as though I have died already. I died the moment I watched you do nothing, as those men touched me, as the pain creeped into my womb. I died the moment I realised I meant nothing to you, and that you would let my fate fall into Aegon’s hands. Is this a cruel joke from the Stranger? Is my true reality too grievous for my soul to take? Am I destined for all eternity to love a man who does not love me back?”
“I do love you.” Aemond insisted, frustration in his tone.
“Then why do you let them hurt me?!” You cried, “Why do you hurt me? The Gods play tricks on my mind and my body, and punish me for your actions. She was your whore. Your bastard. And yet I was punished for it. Not you. Me.”
“I lost the child too, do you not think that it pains me so?”
“I know it does not! You did not feel it as I felt. You did not feel the life leave my body, or the pain that came after. You did not feel it pass through me.” You sniffed, another tear falling.
Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked down at you, voice dangerously low, “I thought I lost you both.”
“And that is where the sickness and depravity of the Gods come to fruition. It is a never ending cycle of hurt and be hurt. I do not know what they have planned for me, but I fear it, Aemond. I fear the path they have paved for me. That child was from them, I know it. I felt it in my bones. And yet we lost it. Will they punish me now for being so careless? Will they punish us both for not ensuring its birth? I cannot continue to wreak the consequences of the men around me. I will break. I will break like poor Helaena did. But even to that, there is nothing I can do because I fell in love with a man who’s actions wound me most terribly. There is this small, foolish piece of me still holding onto hope that the Aemond I grew up with would still care for me as he did.”
“I do. I love you deeply. I would do anything for you, surely you know this.” Aemond began, stepping forward to hold your face tightly in his large palms, thumbs brushing the tears that fell from your cheeks.
“It is okay,” You heaved a breath, “Please just tell me if it is a farce.” You grabbed his wrists almost desperately, “If you only say it so for the treaty. I will understand, I will even make my peace with it.” You said desperately,  “But please, I cannot survive my heart being torn apart by you any longer. I cannot do it, Aemond. I won’t. I will throw myself from Maegor’s Holdfast, I promise you this. I will set you free from these marriage bonds if you so wish, and my spirit from this earthly plane.”
Aemond stepped towards you, grabbing your shoulder and neck, fingers framing your chin, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you, “Eman va moriot jorrāelatan ao.  Kesan va moriot jorrāelagon ao.  Se qēlossās kostagon ropagon hen se jēdar, se nyke iēdrosa jorrāelagon ao.” I have always loved you. I will always love you. The stars could fall from the sky, and I would still love you.  
Aemond’s eye narrowed as he spoke, brow furrowed in a way that creased the scar at his brow, “Eman jorrāelatan ao pār nyke ēlī ilagontan laesi va ao.  Se kesan jorrāelagon ao ēva ñuha mōrī jelevre.” I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. And I will love you until my last breath.
A loud sob left your lips as your heart clenched in your chest at his words.
"Hen se gūrēñare yard, naejot se havor tistālion, ēza va moriot issare ao.” From the training yard, to the kitchen, it has always been you.
“Aemond.” You hands tightened around his wrists in a way that would have been painful as you clutched him for dear life.
The Prince pulled you forward towards him, clutching you against his chest as he let you cry, wrapping his large arms around you, blanketing you in a feeling of safety that only he could bring to you.
You cried into him, feeling the last of your resolve fall away, and the rawness of your grief exposed to the chambers. He held you to him tightly, afraid to let go, your hands tightly wrapped in the front of his tunic.
When Aemond finally pulled back, he brought his lips to yours. It wasn’t burning with passion or desire, it wasn’t laced with regret and grief, instead, his lips moved against yours like a gentle whisper of assurance, a smaller whisper of truth, and the almost invisible whisper of a promise, all of which was overpowered by one thing, and one thing only.
Love.
Your uncle pulled away, looking down at you with nothing but adoration as he spoke again,“Lanta rōvēgrie zaldrīzes perzyssy, hēnkirī hae mēre. Spool hen kasta, spool hen zōbrie. Iā rōvēgrie ropagon naejot letagon lanta hubon. Vējes naejot zālagon hēnkirī.” 
Two great dragon flames, together as one. Spool of green, spool of black. A great fall to tie two threads. Fated to burn together.  
Tears continued to fall, but not because of grief. Not because of the sorrow that swallowed you into its dark pit, its wispy tendrils pulling you beneath its icy surface. Not because of the regret that you had, or guilt that you felt for the Maester.
You cried because you knew it was the truth. 
You knew it to be.
It had to be. 
All of this could not be for naught.
“Avy jorrāelan.” I love you, He whispered again.
You gave him a sad smile in return, “And I love you, but I don’t think I will survive this.”
“I will not let them hurt you.” 
You looked at Aemond carefully, watching as the words left his mouth, at the way his eye held conviction, at the way his mouth held an almost Godly truth.
The way he said it to be true.
As though speaking would make it so.
“You already have.”
Aemond dipped his head towards you again and kissed you, pulling you against his body once more as you wrapped your arms around him, sighing into the kiss, feeling relief in his touch, safety in his arms, warmth in his reach.
Slowly Aemond moved you backwards towards the bed.
Your heart did not race nor skip, your breath did not hitch, and you went with him willingly, hands reaching the bottom of his tunic to begin unclasping the latches that held it together. 
When the last clasp was undone, your hands skated beneath gently, softly, slowly, and moved up his torso, feeling the hard lines of his body, and the warmth of his skin, and the subtle breaths that he took as you made your way to his shoulders, hands moving beneath to slide it off his his body. It fell to the floor, the next his under tunic, and before long, your hands reached forward to unlace his breeches. 
Aemond spun you softly, pushing your hair away from your neck and forward over your shoulder, kissing the bare skin as he unlaced and the back of your gown, the heavy material sagging on your body until it slid to the floor beneath you. 
Breeches and chemises were lost, boots and stockings tossed, until finally the two of you laid atop the green sheets of your bed, his callused hands skating over your skin in reverence, with undying patience and care. 
First he took you with his mouth, bringing you to your peak with the help of his long fingers, stretching you open for him and whispering words of praise against your slick skin. When you peaked with a cry, he kissed his way up your body, through the valley of your breasts until he hovered above you, seeking permission to move as he lined himself with your core. 
You tilted your head upwards, chasing his lips as he slid inside of you slowly, the both of you moaning into each others mouths. Pleasure coursed through you with every thrust, heat blooming in your core as he made love to you for the first time.
It was not possessive or rough, violent or haste, it was slow, and sensual, hands mapping out bodies, savouring the flickering sparks that spouted beneath your skin. The small sighs that he made, the moans as he dipped his head into your neck.
All of it devastatingly pure.
The tears came without you even noticing them there, Aemond finding them upon your cheeks with a moment of concern. He brushed the tears away from your cheeks as he stilled, the length of him throbbing inside of you, desperate to keep moving. 
“Are you hurt?”
You shook your head vehemently, “I wish we hadn’t wasted so much time apart.” You whispered, hips moving up to meet his, encouraging him to move again, “I wish the war had not happened.” Aemond slid through your folds as you babbled beneath him, “I wish that we had not done the things we had done.” 
Aemond bent his neck to kiss you again, tongue chasing yours before he pulled away, the breath having been stolen from your lungs.
“We cannot go back, we can only move forward.”
You nodded, weakness and sorrow buried down beneath you as you looked at him with determination.
“Burn together.”
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Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3
Tag List:
@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat
Bold is who I cannot tag!
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congratzams · 1 year
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𝖈𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: carlisle, esme, rosalie, emmett, jasper, alice, edward
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: alice predicted your arrival years before you could even imagine yourself entangled to a family of vampires as their mate. this is their reaction when they find out about you.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none, except that bella is not included
𝐀/𝐍: just a little work i have in mind! anyone else gets mad when they leave esme out of the fics?
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Alice has seen the way your hair framed your face, how your lips tilted up when you laughed at the jokes your colleague said — she's seen it all, as if she watched a movie in which the main star was you.
And she enjoyed all of that. In fact, she sought the moment her visions would grasp her away from reality just to see you, normally accompanied by the Cullen family members. She sensed from the beginning the bond shared between you and each one of the family, a tickling awareness that if her heart could still beat it would reverberate in exhilaration.
A familiar glance shot towards Edward, whose abilities granted him the same bliss, causing him to crave for glimpses of his mate, and it soon became the perfect little secret between the siblings.
It was almost impossible for Alice to contain her excitement, Carlisle and Esme were the ones to bring it up during a family moment. The petite vampire was unsure if it was the right time to tell everyone — but who cares, right? They've already lived for a hundred years, time was nothing but an illusion and there was nothing left except for memories from a previous life.
Edward stood beside her as she posed with an ear-to-ear smile. I've seen her. We all have a human mate!
Rosalie spoke up first, a tingle of hurt in her voice. Her? She's… She's our mate? meaning they would be all sharing. The fact you were human took her by surprise. She worried for your safety and she doubted standing with vampires would do any good. She flashed Emmett a weak smile when she felt his heavy but reassuring embrace.
Rosalie wasn't as excited as her partner. Sure, she would come to terms with it, the bond existing between mates making it difficult to stay away from you, but it would take her a while to accept that it was your fate.
As for Emmett, he thought of himself so lucky as if he'd won the lottery. He couldn't wait to finally meet you. Oh, the things he would do. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you, even carrying you across the woods, the idea that you were merely a human (knowingly?) placed in the back of his mind — you absolutely had no idea the limits you'd be crossing with him.
Carlisle spoke up, I've heard stories about coven mates, but I've never imagined it was a real thing. His gaze glinted with small sparkles of hope and yet, he slightly worried about the dynamics of sharing a mate with the entire family, a human one nonetheless, and the implications it would have in their lives.
He was, however, grateful for the good news and the chance to experience such rare event in his life. The smile sent him by Esme served to sooth him into acceptance and his worries were soon forgotten.
Esme knew deep in her heart she would love you, there was absolutely no doubt in that. She was delighted to have a new addition to the family, one that would ignite flames of joy and love in all of them. You would be more than welcome to take your time in adapting into the family as Esme is known as the patient and loving one.
Jasper shared the same excitement Alice had, both partners so tuned to each other's feelings that an addition would shake things for good. He was thrilled to have you as his mate. Just like Emmett, he couldn't wait until the right moment, he had to meet you. But as it was with Alice, he knew he had to be patient.
Finally, Edward, knowing it from the beginning, got used to the idea of sharing a mate. At first, one could say being the private individual he was, the idea of sharing didn't stick well enough with him, but he eventually grew fond of that. He didn't worry nor was so eager as his siblings, he simply accepted the idea as his destiny and hoped to be accepted by you as well.
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atthebell · 3 months
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how to clip (redneck ash atthebell edition aka not the most efficient necessarily)
my best methods for clipping & posting to tumblr
tl;dr use clipr for downloading clips from twitch, other methods vary by mileage
Clip on Twitch & Download using Clipr
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IMO, this is the best method for posting clips. Twitch clips don't always display properly on Firefox, and it also means that if the clip ceases to exist on Twitch for whatever reason, it's still uploaded to Tumblr. You can also guarantee the quality you're downloading in, which is usually 1080p unless the streamer has for some reason lowered their stream quality (happens by accident sometimes).
Downsides: 1) You have to be able to download the clip to your computer, and doesn't work on mobile. Well, it could, but it would be way more difficult and I don't know why you would do that to yourself. 2) If the moment you want to clip is longer than 60 seconds, you have to use another method. Twitch only lets you clip something that long. I bemoan this fact every day.
Screen capture on your computer
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The pros of this method are that you aren't limited to 60 seconds, and if you're trying to clip something from a YouTube video, it's easier than trying to download a YouTube clip (have never been able to successfully do this myself) or downloading the entire video and then editing it down to the moment you want to clip.
The cons are that you have to make sure you're not screen capturing sensitive shit from your own computer, and you have to turn off all other audio and make sure your volume levels & video quality are at appropriate levels (aka don't have your volume super low, don't have the video on 480p if possible). If you're clipping off YouTube, you have to deal with having the channel's watermark in the corner, but otherwise it's great for when you want to just clip something from Twitch but it's longer than 60 seconds.
How to do this (on Windows):
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Remember to put your computer on DND (Discord as well) and put the video on highest quality and decent volume levels. Press Windows key + G (if that's your configuration) and select "Start Recording" on the capture window. Remember to give time for the scrub bar and shit from YouTube or Twitch (or whatever) to go away, so go back a little bit before where you want the clip to start. Record until you've got what you want, then open it in whatever video editing software pleases you. You can find the recording in Captures on your computer (usually in some folder chain in Users) or by just pressing Windows key + G again, it'll let you open the recording in file location. I use Microsoft Clipchamp to edit because Windows Media Player crashes my computer and I'm not going to pay for nice editing software rn. Anyway, edit out the bits with you moving your mouse around and the video player UI and get it to whatever length you like. Save or redownload to your computer, upload to Tumblr.
Downloading off Twitter
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Use twittervideodownloader or twdown. Copy the video address from the video and paste it, then download in whatever quality you'd like. Please attribute said clips, particularly if they went through the trouble of adding subtitles or you're using their translation (or just to let people know where they came from-- i.e. is this from a cc's own IG story, or is it a random fan recording them; the latter means you maybe shouldn't be reposting this video). Translation itself is often a thankless project so it's very appreciated to acknowledge translators. Also if someone else went through the trouble of clipping something, it's just nice to acknowledge them for it. Preferably include a link to the original tweet. This method is best for just needing stuff off Twitter, for IG stories that someone else already screen captured, or if the only clip you can find is on Twitter and the original vod/video is gone for whatever reason.
Extra fun tips:
If you are a frequent clipper, get in the habit of naming your files! If you're keeping them all on your computer, for organization's sake, it will save you SO much time and energy if you just have names on your files. It doesn't have to be anything crazy formal; for example, my format is just "oct 12 cellbit scared by sign tts;" date followed by a very short description.
Similar to the above, it also helps to include some amount of context to clips when you're posting them, particularly if you're not liveblogging. Sometimes people rb clips onto my dash and start freaking out about some kind of lore going on and it's like dude this clip is from two months ago, calm down. Please turn on timestamps also for the love of fuck.
You can download videos straight off Tumblr! If someone else already posted a clip you like and want to have on your computer, you can download it off the dash or off their blog and just have it, no extension or screen capture or website needed. One of the very cool things about this website!
Related, if you really want to find a clip that you know was already posted to Tumblr by someone else, use people's archives. They're also one of the actually functional parts of this website. You can filter by post type, month, and tags, which can usually get you closer to finding what you're looking for than searching will.
RoyalArchivist tends to post and reblog a lot of clips, so they're a good resource alongside myself, pix pixiecaps, and jay cellgatinbo, all of whom clip like maniacs. I also just reblog a lot of things and have a pretty extensive tagging system. RA also has a timestamp archive for QSMP with notes about lore and things-- please check that out if you're interested in helping document events or looking to find a certain moment.
MCYT Archive Project has public vods spreadsheets for QSMP as well as other MCYT projects that are incredibly extensive, so if you're looking for a moment and you remember the date, you should be able to find the vod on the sheet. You can also use the vod archives in junction with wiki articles to figure out exactly or approximately when something happened (the QSMP Miraheze wiki includes citations in their articles, which is a massive help for this kind of thing).
Finally, I am a lunatic who figured this all out through trial and error. There are probably other, somewhat more efficient methods, like I said at the start. If you know of any, please (politely) add onto the post.
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alienssstufff · 8 months
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ANALYSING Q!SLIME'S FINAL BIRTHDAY GIFT [12/08/2023]
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With the addition of the underground railway within the mines of q!Slime's Eggxile base, the choices on the birthday build (from the lead-up, the threshold, to the house itself) adds so much on to q!Slime's character as well as gives hints on the bigger picture of the Federation and the new wave of codes.
Prior to today's Birthday stream, the two significant builds in Eggxile are the Altar to Lil J and the Basement - two builds that represent q!Slime's religious devotion and his familial devotion respectively. I did an analysis comparing the two in another post HERE as a Part 1 - big recommend to read through that one before this one when you can!
This time I'll be going into detail specifically about the underground railway and how it represents q!Slime's 'devotion' to the island itself and the Federation.
long rambling ahead be careful [EXPLANATION UNDERCUT]
PREVIOUS KNOWLEDGE: Quick SparkNotes summary about Slime's way of building:
Slime's builds are simplistic, symmetrical layouts (preferably circular)
Comprised of mostly local, easy to obtain/manufacture materials
A lot of flora interior
NO security, little-to-no input from the Create-mod
These characteristics were derived from the similarities between Slime's existing builds of the Altar and the Basement. The uncanniness of the Birthday Build is that it is an extension NOT built by Slime, but instead is the Federation's attempt to imitate his style and forcibly insert itself into his life.
We can presume that this is the Federation's doing and by extension JuanaFlippa's current identity by the context clues during the scavenger hunt. The main giveaway being the location of the START placed at the QSMP Dinner Hall: the first sightings of the Egg Codes and the location of Gegg's assassination. The detail of the FIRST CLUE as well being Slime's train ticket to the island supports this theory in assumption that it was the Federation that both brought the original 17 residence to the island and is currently withholding the tickets themselves.
The scavenger hunt goes as planned, all in all directing Slime back to his Eggxile base. (Note the poster being placed IN FRONT of the school's only exit)
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THRESHOLD BETWEEN THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT: Not much of Slime's actual base is touched in the scavenger hunt other than the nook in the Basement Slime had originally designed to be JuanaFlippa's area. Here it is decorated with the carpet, two chairs, and two presents. Everything before that (lamps including) was made by Slime.
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After Slime collects what he believes is the last of the presents the lamps in the Basement are progressively removed directing him to the only other light in room being the black wool platform and chest. These lamps were destroyed NOT turned off. The contents of the chest read as follows:
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Hostile architecture is defined as a design strategy to purposefully guide or restrict movement (targeting mostly the homeless. it sucks). And by limiting Slime's vision here is the first of many examples of the Federation restricting Slime's movement as the path progressively becomes more and more forced.
From here to the mine entrance Slime is still given a physical choice whether or not to follow the light. This is the Federation's way in giving Slime the illusion of free choice. 'You chose to follow the light' 'You chose to break that wall in the mines' 'You chose to activate the train carriage'
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The train carriage and its small, difficult to move around, interior being the last direct choice Slime makes. It locks him inside and sends him on a trip that goes no where but down, deeper into the mines.
It's worth noting that originally these mines originally belong to Slime. He made this entrance and he was able to freely explore any part of these caves. What the train carriage does is give Slime a strict path to follow and a very limited window to look through - no straying from the path here. Look only where the Federation tells you to.
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Given the connection between codes and trains, symbolically this can also represent Slime's gradual spiral (the shape of the tracks) into hell - the madness that is the island led on by the Federation.
JUANAFLIPPA'S HOUSE: The road ends at a small house at the very bottom of the lush caves. It's a nice house! Supposedly trying to replicate the arched partition walls in the Basement... But not quite perfectly imitating his style of build. The giveaways being its asymmetry and the choice of materials: a variety of different wood types, most NOT local to Eggxile (also the fake house just looks prettier wwww)
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Here's the two houses for comparison (Slime's house is an 8x8 block square)
Stylistically, the vibe of this house given the location and purpose remind me of that one Cold War bunker in Las Vegas. An underground mansion designed to look like the outside world - a secluded, controlled paradise for a family to live in.
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The confirmation that the underground house being a facade becomes clearer the deeper Slime explores the inside.
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Normal interior. Normal kitchen. Normal table: 4 chairs (like the outside bonfire), 3 mugs (Slime, Mariana, Juanaflippa). Shelves like Slime's old house in Sacapuntas. A passageway in the wall leading to Juanaflippa's room.
All these things portraying the life Slimeriana and Juanaflippa could have lived. A happy family tucked under from all the dangers of the outside, far far away from the world. Until you look deeper into the cracks only to find out it was all fake, there is nothing back there. A mockery in disguise of a gift.
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THE FEDERATION AND SLIME: Prior to the birthday stream with the assassination of Gegg, Slime had initially come to terms that Juanaflippa was well and truly dead and had told ElQuackity (a member of the Federation) that he no longer had any attachments to the island, and because of that would try to be himself. The Federation responded to this twice: the first being ElQuackity offering a position to work with them and ElQuackity win the Elections (this fails as ElQuackity is assassinated by q!BBH); the second being this birthday stream.
So far the Federation has not destroyed anything Slime has built but instead added on top of it. These decisions both give Slime a reason to stay on the island whilst pushing him to do things aligned with the Federation's goals shown by the gifts he gets in the scavenger hunt (Ghillie suit, landmines, grappling hook, dark metal ingots).
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Interestingly the 2nd prize during the scavenger hunt is quite literally called the CHARLIE Flag and is the nautical symbol for YES. While the purpose of this flag is for whatever mission the Federation is about to send Slime on, this is also metaphorical as the only response Slime can give right now is YES.
Additionally the flag metaphor could be applied on the controls at the beginning of the tracks: Red flag both socially and in Nautical terms (BRAVO) meaning danger/carrying dangerous cargo.
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These are literal red flags in the world in the architecture that are warnings to Slime that once he 'agrees' to these terms and conditions, life for him will only get more dangerous with no way in turning back. Deliberate decisions made by the Federation in guise of Slime's actions and the places he's impacted in the world.
In the end, Slime is a product of the early QSMP and how its history shapes a person and is represented physically by the builds he makes. By the interference of the new tech and prettier structures, the Federation overwrites Slime's creations against his will, creating a world unfamiliar to him - blending what is the truth of the past with the new, augmented present. In another context, change like this can be a good thing - but in this circumstance presents itself as an invasive decision into Slime's private life. This is the Federation forcibly applying itself as one of Slime's priorities in sacrifice of rewriting everything Slime has gone through.
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mixelation · 1 month
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on reborn au hiraishin
so i went over this before, but for this AU the hiraishin has two parts:
a personalized seal (which i use interchangeably with "marker" for the hiraishin) which must adhere to a handful of specifications and is specific down to the individual user's chakra (so minato cannot user tobirama's old ones)
the technique itself, which is crazy hard
the seal itself is extremely difficult to design, although theoretically someone else could design it for you. but there are very, very few people who could do this
the technique is also stupid hard, and i decided minato actually uses it in a mildly insane way. basically, when he uses the technique, he has a mental map off all his seals in existence, which include thousands across many countries. he can tell how far away they are from him and from each other, but he gets no other info to know where they are. he's just that good at spatial reasoning and remembering where he's put them. when he uses hiraishin to teleport from his kitchen to his bedroom and back again, he is actually doing something completely insane mental map-wise
when tori uses the technique, she gets easily confused about what marker is where. she gives herself a headache if there's more than, like, six. she is wandering through life like "you think the yellow flash is a monster? you cannot BEGIN to comprehend how much he really is"
minato did NOT struggle with this at any point so he's like: i'm sure you'll...... just get used to it......?
so i wanted to give tori an equally insane solution!!
tori does not find it that difficult to design new markers. she doesn't even see why she should have to be limited to her own chakra. she'll just have a bunch of different ones so she can tell them apart, it's fine. maybe i'll even let her be able to hack into minato's network (although it will make her want to cry blood it is so headache inducing)
the end result is that minato ALSO ends up like "i know you think tori is insane, but you really don't get how bad it is--"
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beanghostprincess · 4 months
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I wanna know who your favorite vinsmoke sibling is so bad actually please tell me 👀✨
My friend and my brother laughed at me when I told them my favorite Vinsmoke is Niji, and I genuinely was embarrassed that day because I didn't really know much about him at the time (I think I had only watched a few eps of WCI) and it's pretty clear in the show that he's, uh, the worst of the Vinsmokes. And by "the worst" I mean: The one who's portrayed as the worst because he's the most active one when it comes to abuse and supremacism within the family line. Unlike Ichiji (who's more serious) and Yonji (who's more playful, somehow) Niji is the one who has to actually fight for a role in his family and that's why I think he's so fucking annoying all the damn time. I hate him. I love him. I want to hug him. But also I wouldn't mind punching him very, very hard. I have mixed feelings, but yeah, Niji is my favorite Vinsmoke. And you haven't asked why, but I feel the need to do some sort of mini argument about this because I am a very resentful person and I want to show my friend and my brother that Niji is actually a very interesting character!! And my fiancé thinks I just like him because he's hot, and she's right but only like a 20%. Maybe 40%.
I will try to put my thoughts into words, but it's pretty difficult because I have a lot of things to say about this blue evil gremlin.
I like Niji the most because I think he is, between the three brothers, the one who shows feelings and ambitions outside their emotionless selves the most. I know they technically are the same, but I don't think so (btw, please assume I'm not including Reiju in this text because she's canonically different from them and I'm just referring to the brothers).
As I mentioned before, I think Niji is the one brother who is the most annoying and evil because he feels the need to stand out. Ichiji is serious, and calculative and has a secure place in the family. He is the number one, even if Reiju is the oldest (I would like to talk more about how Reiju, being a woman, even if she's the oldest, she's the number 0. Because she is the oldest but she's a woman, so she obviously doesn't and would not be able to wear the number 1 like a man would. She is the oldest and yet, she has less significance in the family line than Ichiji. But, yeah, this is something that has nothing to do with Niji, sorry). Ichiji, like all of his siblings, wants recognition from his father, but he doesn't have to try as hard as the others to be impressive because he is, after all, the oldest. The typical "older sibling in an abusive household who has to deal with all the bullshit to protect their siblings"? That's something Reiju took over. That's Reiju's responsibility as the oldest and the woman. Ichiji literally doesn't have to do anything besides leading the team and being the evil, emotionless machine his father created. That does not mean that I don't think he could be able to develop more feelings, because I think he could and I love the concept of him being the first one to protest against Judge's behavior, but you get me. When you're the oldest brother with an even older sister, your responsibilities are pretty limited. So he doesn't have to be anything but there and himself.
Yonji, on the other hand... He is the youngest. Even younger than Sanji. He doesn't have to try, because Niji and Sanji should be the ones to do so. Little siblings are not expected to do much besides existing because irl parents are usually tired of raising children and they end up either getting neglected or seen as decoration. As a little sibling myself I can confirm that these things affect really badly to your brain growing up, but I got a more Sanji treatment so I can't speak for Yonji here. The thing I can say, though, is that in comparison to Niji, Yonji is just there. He's silly and goofy. He's funny. He's dumb. He has the excuse of being the little one to act that way. Getting lost eating or doing whatever. Even the fact that his powers are more physically focused instead of power/intelligence centered shows that he can just punch away his issues. He's the gym bro of the siblings. Don't expect much from him. <- Thing that's often said about little siblings, btw, and affects real fucking badly in early teenage years. The fact that he's portrayed like that is so on point tbh but after all, they don't have high expectations for him, so little to no effort is everything he does.
Then there's Niji, of course. My favorite. Love him. Hate him. Whatever. Niji is the middle child. And God, do I have to say things about middle siblings.
The thing about Niji is that he actually has to try and make a name for himself in the family because otherwise he'll probably get forgotten. I often wonder if he had that fear of becoming the next Sanji once he "died" (he's the only one genuinely asking if Sanji died on them before Yonji and Ichiji say they don't care) because his role is not as noticeable as the others. Reiju is the woman, Ichiji is the successor, Sanji is the weakling getting bullied (being technically one of the little siblings but still being in a limbo of middle/youngest because the little one is Yonji), and Yonji is the little one. Then... What's Niji?
Niji needs Sanji way more than he's willing to admit, and I love that. I absolutely love how he's written because he constantly shows that he needs Sanji, through both words and actions. He needs him because without Sanji's existence -without Niji being his bully- Niji is nothing but number 2. And there's nothing more frustrating than being the number two when it comes to family hierarchy. Not going to mention every little thing he does, but as I said, I love how well-written he is. He's the sibling Oda uses the most to show the abuse Sanji went through, but that's only because Niji is the only one who needs to do that. Niji is the one to talk to Sanji first, all the damn time. He gets angry when Sanji doesn't respond. He gets angry because Sanji can't be bullied anymore. He gets angry out of fear, in my opinion, because if the weakling can't get abused anymore, then he's not worth anything. If Sanji isn't the third, the second one is left alone. 2 can't fight 1 because 1 has the protection of starting the line. And 2 can't fight 4 because there's a missing link that keeps 2 from 4. So Niji is mad at Sanji because Sanji isn't the same weak crybaby he used to be, and he can't use him anymore to be secure and safe.
That's fucking horrifying when it comes to family hierarchy.
I like Niji because, despite being an asshole, he has reasons to be like that. First of all, because his father literally made him this way. But also, the little feelings he has (selfish emotions, yes, evil. But they're feelings, anyway. Urges. He's supposed to be emotionless and yet he knows how Sanji feels enough to use that to his advantage) are used as a way to feel superior and safe because he feels inferior. I think he's the one showing more emotions out of the three, even if those emotions aren't healthy or good and it's just him being angry all the time. That means that if he has urges and needs like that, even if he doesn't fear his own death, he could end up developing more and more empathy. His type of empathy comes from a place of fear. He feels what Sanji feels. And it's not that he doesn't care (I mean, I am aware that he technically doesn't, but let me dream) but it's just convenient for him not to care and keep bullying him to secure his place in the family.
Also pointing out that I like Niji because, being the one who says he hates Sanji the most, he's the one to protect him with his own body when that scene of the siblings helping Sanji escape happens. The others only clear the way, Niji stays with him. There's a really cool post about this on Niji's tag somewhere!!! I personally think he does this because, as that post said: Niji keeps seeing Sanji as weak, instead of believing in him enough to just clear the way. He protects him because he thinks he can't protect himself. Because he's weak.
And yes, it might sound offensive and emotionless and it doesn't make Niji a better person. But it makes him an older brother. Believing in Sanji would be great, but thinking that he's weak and needs protection after years of projecting on him only shows that the weak one is Niji. That he wants and is willing to protect his brother, too. If he didn't care about his well-being he would've just cleared the way for him, not caring about what could've happened to Sanji. But he goes all the way to help him out and protect him longer than the others did. Idk. I find that a very beautiful way of ending their relationship.
All of this being said, I have to be honest with you: When I said I liked Niji for the first time I only did it because people around me kept saying he was the worst one and it bothered me because I found his design pretty fucking cool. And tbh when he started being an actual character? I loved him even more. Because during WCI he's a fucking asshole but the way he acts towards Sanji is wanting to get a response from him, and I just find that so curious and complex... Like, if he just wanted to be evil he'd be more the Doflamingo type. But Niji looks for a response in Sanji's eyes. He wants to feel powerful because he knows he isn't.
And also, well, he's very cute and I like his hair a lot and he makes me furious sometimes which is great because if a character doesn't make you want to punch him at one point, is he really a good character? Look at him! He deserves to get slapped in the face. But also, I would love to kiss him afterward. What's that Olivia Rodrigo lyric? Ah, yes: "I wanna break his heart, then be the one to stitch it up. Wanna kiss his face with an uppercut." That's how I feel about him.
I really hope it's obvious, with all of this, that "Succession" is one of my favorite TV Shows, because I could go on and on and on (and nobody would listen but idc) about how the Vinsmokes are just the Roy family. Both One Piece and Succession deal with family in which hierarchy is crucial in a very specific and accurate way. It makes me sick. I love it.
Anyway, have some pics of my blue idiot:
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I want to hit him in the head with a baseball bat.
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hi!! over the past year or so, i’ve been radicalizing leftwards (does that make sense?), and while i do like to say that i have a pretty good understanding of things like socialism and communism and such, one thing i haven’t really been able to figure out is what anarchism is and how it works. like, i get the basic idea, but what with google being google and most people on breadtube not being anarchist, it’s definitely not as easy to research as socialism.
anyways, tl;dr: what defines anarchism and how does it work?
thanks in advance! have a cookie 🍪
"Anarchism asserts the possibility of an organization without discipline, fear, or punishment, and without the pressure of poverty: a new social organism which will make an end to the terrible struggle for the means of existence,—the savage struggle which undermines the finest qualities in man, and ever widens the social abyss. In short, Anarchism strives towards a social organization which will establish well-being for all."
leftward ho! thanks for writing. these questions are always difficult to answer because i don’t know where you’re coming from on your personal journey. but i’ll try to answer some of the basics and recommend some good resources to start with.
first of all, there are many anarchisms and if you ask three anarchists you’ll get five opinions. but probably the most prevalent form of anarchism is anarcho-communism, so while i’ll try to talk broadly from a general anarchist position, much of it be from an anarchocommunist perspective for simplicity’s sake.
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at it’s most basic, anarchism is an opposition to hierarchy, to one person having control over another. it is a radical commitment to compassion and absolute freedom. like communists, anarchists want a moneyless, stateless, and classless society. unlike leninists, who falsely claim to be communists, we know that there has never been a good state, and never can be. they are by their very nature oppressive, and cannot be used as a means to an end to achieve communism. no group or individual can wield that much power over others and not become corrupted by it. absolute power corrupts absolutely, etc. so while we are committed to the fight against capitalism, we are also committed to the fight against the state. they are intertwined and must be defeated simultaneously. so we believe in the abolition of all government and the organization of society on a voluntary, cooperative basis without recourse to force or compulsion, and the abolition of money and private property, as the best way to ensure the basic and higher needs of everyone are met.
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if you haven’t read it yet, the wikipedia article for anarchism is actually a pretty good place to start:
Anarchism is a political philosophy and movement that is skeptical of all justifications for authority and seeks to abolish the institutions they claim maintain unnecessary coercion and hierarchy, typically including, though not necessarily limited to, the state[1] and capitalism. Anarchism advocates for the replacement of the state with stateless societies or other forms of free associations. As a historically left-wing movement, usually placed on the farthest left of the political spectrum, it is usually described alongside communalism and libertarian Marxism as the libertarian wing (libertarian socialism) of the socialist movement.
Humans lived in societies without formal hierarchies long before the establishment of formal states, realms, or empires. With the rise of organised hierarchical bodies, scepticism toward authority also rose. Although traces of anarchist thought are found throughout history, modern anarchism emerged from the Enlightenment. During the latter half of the 19th and the first decades of the 20th century, the anarchist movement flourished in most parts of the world and had a significant role in workers' struggles for emancipation. Various anarchist schools of thought formed during this period. Anarchists have taken part in several revolutions, most notably in the Paris Commune, the Russian Civil War and the Spanish Civil War, whose end marked the end of the classical era of anarchism. In the last decades of the 20th and into the 21st century, the anarchist movement has been resurgent once more.
Anarchism employs a diversity of tactics in order to meet its ideal ends which can be broadly separated into revolutionary and evolutionary tactics; there is significant overlap between the two, which are merely descriptive. Revolutionary tactics aim to bring down authority and state, having taken a violent turn in the past, while evolutionary tactics aim to prefigure what an anarchist society would be like. Anarchist thought, criticism, and praxis have played a part in diverse areas of human society.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anarchism
i don’t know how much original theory you’ve read before, but i’ll give some reading recs. personally i’m a big fan of peter kropotkin, and found the conquest of bread to be a breath of fresh air after studying marx for years. others have recommended starting with errico malatesta’s anarchy or peter gelderloos’ anarchy works. and zoe baker (anarchopac) is excellent if videos or tweets are more your speed.
https://enoughisenough14.org/2019/06/10/anarchism-a-very-short-introduction-by-colin-ward/
getting involved masterpost
hopefully that’s enough to get you started but please feel free to ask questions, and there are many more knowledgable people here who can help as well.
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gatheringbones · 1 year
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[“To Larraine, putting something on layaway was saving. “I can’t leave money in my bank,” she said. “When you’re on SSI you can only have so much money in the bank, and it’s got to be less than a thousand dollars. Because if it’s more…they cut your payments until that money is spent.”
Larraine was talking about SSI’s “resource limit.” She was allowed to have up to $2,000 in the bank, not $1,000 like she thought, but anything more than that could result in her losing benefits. Larraine saw this rule as a clear disincentive to save. “If I can’t keep my money in the bank, then I might as well buy something worthwhile…because I know once I pay on it, it’s mine, and no one can take it from me, just like my jewelry.” Well, no one except Eagle Moving.
Before her eviction, Beaker had asked Larraine why she didn’t just sell her jewelry and pay Tobin. “Of course I’m not going to do that,” she said. “I worked way too hard for me to sell my jewelry….I’m not going to sell my life savings because I’m homeless or I got evicted.” It wasn’t like she had just stumbled into a pit and would soon climb out. Larraine imagined she would be poor and rent-strapped forever. And if that was to be her lot in life, she might as well have a little jewelry to show for it.
(…) When Larraine spent money or food stamps on nonessentials, it baffled and frustrated people around her, including her niece, Sammy, Susan and Lane’s daughter. “My aunt Larraine is one of those people who will see some two-hundred-dollar beauty cream that removes her wrinkles and will go and buy it instead of paying the rent,” said Sammy, a hairstylist with her own shop in Cudahy. “I don’t know why she just doesn’t stick to a budget.” Pastor Daryl felt the same way, saying that Larraine was careless with her money because she operated under a “poverty mentality.”
To Sammy, Pastor Daryl, and others, Larraine was poor because she threw money away. But the reverse was more true. Larraine threw money away because she was poor.
Before she was evicted, Larraine had $164 left over after paying the rent. She could have put some of that away, shunning cable and Walmart. If Larraine somehow managed to save $50 a month, nearly one-third of her after-rent income, by the end of the year she would have $600 to show for it—enough to cover a single month’s rent. And that would have come at considerable sacrifice, since she would sometimes have had to forgo things like hot water and clothes. Larraine could have at least saved what she spent on cable. But to an older woman who lived in a trailer park isolated from the rest of the city, who had no car, who didn’t know how to use the Internet, who only sometimes had a phone, who no longer worked, and who sometimes was seized with fibromyalgia attacks and cluster migraines—cable was a valued friend.
People like Larraine lived with so many compounded limitations that it was difficult to imagine the amount of good behavior or self-control that would allow them to lift themselves out of poverty. The distance between grinding poverty and even stable poverty could be so vast that those at the bottom had little hope of climbing out even if they pinched every penny. So they chose not to. Instead, they tried to survive in color, to season the suffering with pleasure. They would get a little high or have a drink or do a bit of gambling or acquire a television. They might buy lobster on food stamps. If Larraine spent her money unwisely, it was not because her benefits left her with so much but because they left her with so little. She paid the price for her lobster dinner. She had to eat pantry food the rest of the month. Some days, she simply went hungry. It was worth it. “I’m satisfied with what I had,” she said. “And I’m willing to eat noodles for the rest of the month because of it.”
Larraine learned a long time ago not to apologize for her existence. “People will begrudge you for anything,” she said. She didn’t care that the checkout clerk looked at her funny. She got the same looks when she bought the $14 tart balsamic vinegar or ribs or on-sale steak or chicken. Larraine loved to cook. “I have a right to live, and I have a right to live like I want to live,” she said. “People don’t realize that even poor people get tired of the same old taste. Like, I literally hate hot dogs, but I was brought up on them. So you think, ‘When I get older, I will have steak.’ So now I’m older. And I do.”]
matthew desmond, from evicted: poverty and profit in the american city, 2016
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blakeswritingimagines · 9 months
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Dating Yandere Alicent Hightower would include:
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She loves you in a very co-dependent way and will often try to limit your freedom of choice in an attempt to keep you close. As a romantic partner, She will expect you to have your entire focus on her and no one else. You would essentially become her entire world, and your approval (or disdain) would rule her entire existence.
She doesn't care about anything but you, and would kill for you in a heartbeat. But her love comes with a deep, twisted darkness. She doesn't know how to love and protect someone without making it seem possessive and obsessive. But she can act like there's no one else besides you, and if you ask her for the moon, she's got it. She doesn't know where the boundary is and has no limit. You're all she wants. Everything about you. You're her possession. In return, she wants everything. Everything about you. Your time. Your dreams. Your love. Your hopes. Everything.
She is very possessive and clingy. She requires a lot of attention and needs to know at all times what you are doing. Once she feels she's lost your attention, she becomes very jealous and angry. She will go to extreme lengths in order to maintain control over you and ensure that you are faithful to her. This behavior can become obsessive and may lead her to engage in stalking, harassment, and even violence.
She is a very manipulative person, and she will use various tactics to control you and keep you dependent on her. For example, she may use guilt and shame to make you feel bad for spending time with others, or she may isolate you from your loved ones. She may also resort to physical force, or threaten you with blackmail.
She secretly spies or gets others to spy on you when you aren't right beside her, making sure you do not show any affection to other people. If she finds that you did, she will find that person and dispose of them. To make sure you are constantly with her, she will make sure that she will always be by your side at all times, making excuses to do so. She will always make sure that your attention is on her.
She will take advantage of your vulnerabilities in order to get you under her control. She will use tactics such as gaslighting, manipulation, isolation, and coercion to keep you dependent on her and to ensure that you do not have any other close relationships or support systems. She will also try to make you believe that you cannot be happy or successful without her and that you need her in order to be complete.
Well, she has a tendency to become physically violent when she feels like you are being unfaithful or are ignoring her needs. She may lash out and attack you, or she may destroy the possessions of yours or the person you are being unfaithful with. She has also been known to threaten self-harm if you do not give in to her requests. If you try to leave her, she may become stalker-like and will show up at your home or workplace to threaten or intimidate you. Overall, she is a very intense and passionate person, and she can become obsessive and controlling when it comes to the relationship. Her actions are typically fueled by fear and insecurity, and she has been known to resort to violence and manipulation in order to maintain control over you.
Her children are usually quite confused by their mother's erratic and extreme behavior. They may find it difficult to understand her motivations, and may even find themselves feeling anxious or uncomfortable when she is in one of her obsessive and possessive states. It is not unusual for the children to want to avoid their mother when she is in these moods, as they may fear that they may be the target of her irrational and intense emotions.
Yes, people have tried to say something or attempt to stop her but they are usually unsuccessful at doing so. She is a very determined and unstoppable woman. She will use all of her skills and resources to ensure that you remain with her. Her love for you is so strong that no one can ever come between you both. No matter what it takes, she will do everything in her power to keep you by her side.
If you wanted to leave it depends. If you wanted to go to the shops for something quick or wanted to go out with friends, she would be upset but she would let you go but she would make sure to check on you every 5 seconds while you are out. Now if you wanted to leave as in like break up with her, she would get upset, she would cry, and have a breakdown. She would probably keep acting like it didn't happen over and over again, begging and pleading for you to stay if you really try to insist. She would try and find whatever means necessary to keep you with her.
If it’s just her and you alone together, she would be very loving towards you and be kind and gentle. She will act all sweet and make you feel comfortable as if everything you've gone through was nothing. She might even go to the extent of being loving physically if you are into that. She would always shower you with love and affection so you would always love her too. She would be doing all sorts of things to keep you in love with her only.
She doesn’t really punish you, more like makes you feel guilty and punish yourself. For example, let’s say you want to go somewhere far from her, she would act upset and make you feel bad for wanting to move far away. And when or if you actually do, she would send you “punishing” letters, telling you how much you broke her heart and how horrible you are for leaving her alone. And when or if you would come back, she'd want you to be apologizing to her and give her anything she would ask for to compensate for leaving her. If you ever go out again, she would threaten you if you ever left her again, she would go crazy.
Ser Criston Cole would most likely be her servant for this as well, and do as she says like the good boy he is. He would also join her in her yandere tendencies in making sure no one else gets you. Of course. Ser Cole is always ready to serve the Queen, no matter what comes her way. If Queen Alicent wishes to use Ser Cole to rid of the competition, he’d gladly do it or even stay close to you and spy on you just to report back to her.
She would do anything to make you feel better if you were sick or dealing with serious issues. She would make sure that you got the best care and treatment that you need. She would probably also spend a lot more time with you to make you feel better and help you get through your illness. She would be very supportive and attentive to your needs and try to make you feel as comfortable as possible.
She’d find out your interests and hobbies, and try to do similar things to get your attention. She would try and be as sweet and as charming as she can be to you, to lure you in. She’d do anything to impress you, and if her first plan doesn’t work she’d try another until she succeeds. She would try and be as perfect as she possibly can for you. She’d make you feel special, and like you are the only person in the world that matters to her.
She would send you love letters and gifts. She would also visit you a lot and always try to get closer to you. She would also dress up to get your attention, being extra clingy in public. She would let you know that she is always here for you and that she deeply cares about you. She would lovebomb you too.
If she needed to hide that part of herself, then she can be very deceiving and manipulative, so she is capable of disguising her Yandere-ness around the right people. However, she is not a huge fan of keeping her emotions in for extended periods of time. So there is always a good chance her true Yandere self may shine through if she has to keep it hidden too long. She does try to hide it, but once she gets possessive, it’s really hard to contain herself and all the crazy she would do to keep you to herself
Yes, often. Especially when she sees someone she cares about spend time and show affection with another person. She can get very bitter seeing you interact with someone else and seeing you enjoy spending time with them. She hates to know that someone else is close to you and gets to have that affection from you that she doesn’t get. She hates seeing others get that treatment from you and seeing that person get close to you when she should be the only one who gets that kind of treatment. That would be enough to drive her to insanity.
She loves to spoil you with expensive gifts. She’ll usually buy you whatever you want and give you all her attention. She will get a personal cook for you and a servant to clean just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. She will shower you with love and affection because you deserve that and so much more. She will praise you whenever she can and do anything that makes you happy. She will love you with every ounce out of her because she just loves spoiling you.
She can’t imagine her life without you. You complete her, and without you, she feels lost and doesn’t know what to do. She needs you to make her life better, and she will do anything for you. She wants you to be by her side forever, and she can’t stand it when that won’t be possible. She is extremely protective of her loved ones and would do everything she can for you to be safe and to remain safe. She is incredibly loyal to you, and she can’t imagine her life without you.
She trails soft kisses down your chest and stomach before she gives you head. Speaking of head she’s good at it and loves to do it, sometimes even more than sex itself.
She loves to praise you, telling you how good you’re doing and how beautiful you look. It’s borderline dirty talk to her.
She loves grinding against you while you make out, kissing down your neck and leaving hickeys in her wake. She loves how you shiver when she scrapes her teeth against your skin.
She enjoys burying her face in the crook of your neck, and you can always feel her hot breath on your neck as she pants hot and heavy.
Hair pulling, mainly on you. It’s one of the ways that she likes to get your attention or to just make you listen to her. 
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Hi everyone, I'm the official subtitle editor for 2ndJerma and Jerma Stream Archive. I've been working to make Jerma985's videos more accessible through closed captions and subtitles. Jerma985 videos are subtitled regularly. You can view the definitive playlist of them here:
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Up next, a recap of what happened in March 2023:
I update interested parties each month about what's been added, and I'll start posting them here if there's sufficient interest, plus any additional musings. So here's the recap from March:
The community has provided so many submissions I'm nearly overwhelmed! I have a lot to review. Every caption will be published, it's just a matter of time. Those not present have been added to the queue.
First, overlap from February is SCORN by me, Erasmus Magnus. It highlights an interesting conundrum of subtitling: how to intuitively portray something said for a deaf/HOH audience, in this case a filtered voice. Feedback I received including that of @maplecaster led to the final result, and I think it works tremendously well.
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Next, we have Receding Randy transcribed by @maplecaster. This was some fine stuff. I'm embarrassed how long it took me to sync it, but that's only because I'm something of a perfectionist. I try to limit the time sink, but I want the best for the subtitles, and it only makes sense to polish the time to be as good as the text content.
After that, we have an absolute classic in the form of Grab that Grotto 5—no relation to Grotto Beasts—by @graysaregay. Well done on this. I did some executive editing for some tricky stuff like the text-to-speech voice. I'm really glad this ol' classic nearing a million has captions now.
And finally, italoplumber has provided a German translation of The Max Cow Capacity Compulsion. Never would've guessed he was popular in DACH countries, but I suppose it makes sense. It's in his name. Willkommen in Jermany.
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bemusedlybespectacled · 5 months
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re: Jenkins' tweets about how Buttons is a witch and there's no show without Izzy, IMO there are three possible ways to interpret that:
He's being cryptic because he in fact has no intention of resurrecting Izzy (outside of maybe being a guilt ghost, like Nigel) and is trying to mollify the fans.
He's being cryptic because he wants to keep his options open in the event that he does resurrect Izzy somehow.
He does actually plan to resurrect Izzy, via Buttons' sea witch magic or something similar.
I think it's #1, at best #2, because I think him resurrecting Izzy would cause more narrative problems than it solves.
Longer explanation under the cut:
So, okay, Buttons being kinda magic was hinted at throughout season 1 but, importantly, it was never actually confirmed one way or the other.
The fact that he can identify ships on the horizon as Spanish with his naked eye when Izzy needs a telescope could be proof of sea witch powers, or he could just have good eyesight and/or guessing ability.
His ability to talk to birds could be a legitimate skill, or it could be a figment of his imagination, like ghost!Nigel is for Stede.
The hex he puts on Calico Jack could be real, especially since Calico Jack gets hit by the cannonball after Olivia has her standoff with him... or it's a complete coincidence.
Even in season 2, we never actually see him transform: he walks off into the woods, the bowl falls on the ground, and we hear a seagull, but we don't actually KNOW he's turned into a seagull. There's no Swan Princess-esque transformation scene here.
The same ambiguity is present in the curse episode. It's never confirmed one way or the other whether the curse is real, because that ambiguity is part of the point (i.e. "it doesn't matter how you feel about it, Stede, you need to validate your crew's experiences and not be a selfish ass").
So say Jenkins ends up leaning hard into the magic thing, makes it explicit and unambiguous, and ressurects Izzy. That opens up a whole host of new problems for him, like:
If magic is real, what are the rules? How does it work? What can it do? What are its limits?
Who else in this world knows about it? Obviously Auntie does, but it doesn't seem like Zheng or anyone else does: why?
If it is known by other people, how well known is it? Why do so many people (like Stede and Izzy) not believe in it?
Who else in this world is magic? It can't just be Buttons, since he needed the scroll to turn into a bird and that presumably came from some other magic user.
How much of what we've seen is magic and not plot convenience/rule of funny? Are the Loony Toons physics magic? Is the ship staying afloat despite no one knowing how to sail magic? Is the characters' ability to row anywhere they want, including places they do not know or even have a reason to try to find in the first place, magic?
And, the most important one: if magic exists in this universe, and people know about it and believe in it, and if it's been underpinning the story this entire time, why does Izzy need to be resurrected at all?
I'm not saying these are insurmountable questions Jenkins has no way of answering. But they are questions he would start having to answer, which is not only a lot more work but also very easily verging into the ridiculous if not handled well. It's an incredibly difficult needle to thread. Like, even if he's not slapped with (honestly, valid) accusations of trying to do a do-over because of fan pressure, he's going to be veering off in a direction that is way more difficult to write in a way that feels authentic and satisfying and not forced.
And I currently don't trust him to handle it well! Since we just saw how well he handled killing off a main character and navigating the cast's romantic relationships, which are both way less complex in terms of world-building!
Fanfiction can absolutely handle this. The OFMD fandom has already picked up the magical realism ball and ran with it, which is one of the things I like about the show: a lot of tropes that are often kind of jarring to me in certain fandoms (not just magic in a world with no magic, but certain whump and angst tropes that sometimes feel a little overwrought) aren't jarring here, because there's some basis for it in the canon. Like, the fandom has already written a lot of stuff more complex and better understanding of the universe's rules than the S2 finale (even, dare I say, much of the second season in general).
But Jenkins and the writers team right now? Nah.
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perplexingluciddreams · 11 months
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Using the internet and technology with high needs autism
I have been trying to put this into words for a while, but due to the exact thing I am making the post about, it has been very difficult.
First of all, a short (ish - I am not the best at concise) background of me and technology: Used to play games on dad's phone, and later watch YouTube videos on family tablet (with parent restrictions). However, ability to navigate devices was very limited, and if something went wrong I just panic and give to an adult.
We used computers a bit in school for work and educational games. Every time we went to the "computer area" I would cry because I knew I wouldn't be able to find the webpage on my own, or sign in to something, or type in a word document. At these times in school, usually another pupil would just sigh loudly and then come and do the computer thing for me over my shoulder.
I had an MP3 player that I got for I think my 8 or 9th birthday. The only thing I knew how to do, was play music and google search. But I still didn't really understand what a "link" was, or how to find important information. We were supposed to learn online research skills in school, but nobody ever explained the most simple stuff to me, so I lack the basic knowledge.
I got my first phone at age 10. This was when I also first get Instagram, my first social media (parents set up for me). I was in a group chat for my school year, but the only time I put a message there is when mum asked me to ask a question, about a non-uniform day for example. Nobody interacted with me in there, and apart from the messages I don't know how to navigate the app. I posted a few pictures a few times, but only when someone else recommended, and I didn't interact online.
I have poor language comprehension, slow processing and take longer to learn new skills. My computer skills and especially typing skills are majorly behind my peers. I have slowly learned some skills allowing me to be even on Tumblr in the first place, but I still need a lot of support and it makes me very anxious. Part of my difficultly on social media, is the social interacting part. Mostly due to low interest.
But my biggest challenge is poor comprehension. I get very anxious and upset when I come onto Tumblr and all the posts I try to read don't make sense to me. Especially when the post is about a topic I care about - if I read it and I can't know what people mean, then I will just be very upset for the rest of the day.
Second biggest challenge, not being able to express opinions on important topics. Often, I can't even understand something. Then, I can't form an opinion because it's too complex. Or, I have an opinion, but I don't understand if someone agree or disagree with me from what they write.
I work so hard to gain skills and learn enough to even be here, and then all I can find about people like me is other people arguing about our existence. Want to express my frustration at this. To even write this post I had support from mum, and it takes all my mental energy.
It is true that I have low interest in socialising - direct impact of autism. So social media maybe not best place in the world for me, by default. But I still want to understand and be included. Not be treated like place to just ask "am I counting as high support needs". I don't understand even my own needs enough to answer this for myself - I definitely can't answer for anyone else.
A lot of my challenges, come direct from autism. That's just a fact. Wish it was easier, very often. But also wish it was easier online - I can't be part of outside community, only online.
I post here to express thoughts and feelings, that is also just what this post is doing. I did less big big edit on my words this time, wanted words to be closest to how I think it (don't think in words so not possible to show abstract thoughts direct, but closest to first translation).
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wild-karrde · 18 days
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Guarded - Part 3
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Master List | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
A/N: NEW CHAPTER REWRITE ALERT! This was honestly one of the chapters I was most excited to rewrite, and I hope you all love it as much as I did. As always, thank you to the wonderful @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me!
Chapter Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 4.8k words
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It was late, and as usual, Tech wasn’t sleeping. Hunching over several datapads at the table in the main sitting room of the suite they shared, he rubbed his temples as he pored over the information Captain Typho had provided him. He was certain to pass out when exhaustion overcame him, either in the chair he was sitting in, or perhaps he’d be lucky enough to make it back to the bedroom he was sharing with Echo. He was surprised to hear his brother’s snores already from down the hall. 
He rarely sleeps, so at least there’s that.
Sleep was never something that came easily to Tech either, not with the way his mind constantly turned, poking and prodding at information and cataloging it for later use. It was rather fortuitous that he’d proved capable of functioning on less sleep than most, and he often took advantage of the late hours to spend time alone with his thoughts. 
The others had closed their doors, which had done little to muffle Wrecker’s grunts and louder snores as he tossed and turned. He’d wound up in a room by himself with Tech and Echo sharing and Hunter and Crosshair bunking together in the last remaining room. The tension between the sergeant and the sniper was still thick enough to cut with a vibroblade, but Tech was hopeful that perhaps the forced proximity would help lessen the strain between them. 
Perhaps they’ll even have a fruitful conversation at some point. 
He didn’t always necessarily express himself in the same ways as his brothers, but he knew he really had no right to be critical of anyone’s interactions with Crosshair. After everything that had happened, he could barely look his brother in the eye.
I missed it. I just assumed he was correct when he stated his chip was gone. I should have known. I should have noted the differences in his behavior, the headaches. 
I just missed it.
The guilt wracked him nearly every second he was around Crosshair, and it had made his interactions with him difficult, so he’d limited them. He knew if they were to effectively function as a team again, it was something he would have to overcome. That seemed to be the biggest challenge for him at the moment, but one that could not take priority over the mission they’d been tasked with. 
Tech had been going over the security system for the palace, memorizing protocols and trying to get an idea of where vulnerabilities existed. He still wasn’t sure why they were needed here, but he was determined to do his best to help anyway. The work made him feel useful in a galaxy that had seemingly decided he and his brothers had outlived their utility. He understood the move to decommission the clone army from a practical standpoint, but it didn’t make him less resentful of the treatment of his brothers, both what he had observed with his own eyes and what was still just rumors. He just hid that resentment far better than most, deeming it an unhelpful feeling in the long run when there was so much more to be done, including helping the brothers the Empire had abandoned. And people like Queen Nodala and Captain Typho, whether that help was desired or not.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the indentations on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose left by his goggles as he sighed deeply. 
By all accounts, the system is sound. The only vulnerabilities lie in the human factors. Logs. Timeliness on rotations. And only so much can be done about that. 
A quiet, nearly imperceptible sound in the hallway made Tech turn his head just in time to see a shadow pass under the door. It could have been anyone walking by in the night, but something about how quiet it was, clearly intended to not draw attention, piqued his curiosity. Quickly, he slipped his boots back on and slid his blaster into its holster before quietly opening their door and stepping out into the corridor. 
The only sound was the echoing of his bootheels on the marble flooring as he pursued the shadow as quickly as he could without drawing attention. Stealth had never necessarily been his strongest skill, and he felt especially exposed, striding through the seemingly inescapable moonlight that poured in through the large windows. 
At least Wrecker’s not with me. He is physically incapable of sneaking up on anything.
Suddenly, Tech rounded a corner and was in the open air, a railing stretching out before him that looked out over the private palace gardens. Somewhere, a waterfall gurgled and the leaves of the trees whispered together in the cool night breeze. He shivered slightly before noticing he wasn’t alone. 
A woman leaned against the railing, her long dark hair hanging down her back in waves. She wore an emerald green robe and matching slippers, a cream colored nightgown peeking out from underneath. Her elbows rested on the stone railing, and she had her eyes closed as if savoring the breeze that tugged gently at her hair. 
Tech froze, watching her carefully for a moment before ultimately deciding she wasn’t a threat. Judging by the fact that no one else was around, he knew she was the shadow he’d been chasing, although he couldn’t understand the need for her to be sneaking around. Particularly since she presumably had permission to be anywhere in it at any time. 
Cautiously, he approached. As Tech’s footsteps grew closer, the woman turned to look at him, green irises piercing him in the dark. He’d clearly surprised her, but she recovered quickly, smiling disarmingly. 
“Good evening, Tech.” 
“M’lady.”
Her smile flickered almost imperceptibly. “You don’t have to use formal honorifics for handmaidens.”
Pushing his goggles up, Tech tilted his head to look at her. He wasn’t sure if this was a test or just a ruse, but he decided to place his cards on the table. Honesty had always been his default method of engagement, even sometimes to a fault. 
“Yes, but you’re no handmaiden,” he countered.
Her eyes narrowed and an amused smirk at her lips. “What makes you so sure?”
Tech moved to stand next to her, lowering his voice slightly. “Were all of the queen’s handmaidens present when we were introduced today?”
She thought for a moment, trying to determine where he was going with this. “Yes. We were all there.”
Tech nodded, watching her carefully. 
“Alright. There were six handmaidens in the room. It was hard to see all of their eye colors, but one I did see definitely had brown eyes, very different from the queen’s eyes, which are green like yours. Another had a scar through her eyebrow, nothing terribly obvious, but enough to where she has a gap in the hair that grows there, which you don’t have. The two that were flanking the door we entered from were several centimeters shorter than you, a subtle difference, but one I noted. And of the last two, one had hair of a similar color to yours, but it was straighter, so unless you curl your hair specifically to sleep in, that rules you out, and the other has a widow’s peak, a genetic trait that you do not share.”
Her eyes were wide, but he shook his head. “These are all subtle things that could easily be covered one way or another should they be decoying for you, so I wouldn’t be too concerned. I just notice more things than most people. But yes, by process of elimination, you are Queen Kestia Nodala of Naboo…m’lady.”
She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Very impressive. Although I’m not sure whether to let you talk to my Captain of the Guard or not seeing as he’s already very paranoid about my safety.”
“You are on the bad side of someone willing to send assassins to kill you. I would consider that cause to worry,” he replied.
The queen pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “I apologize for the subterfuge. I’m just not normally recognized outside of my regalia, and most don’t see me like this anyway. It always feels like armor, so to speak. People respect me more, but also, coming upon someone I don’t know well without it on feels…” her voice trailed off. 
“Vulnerable?” he offered. 
She huffed a laugh. “Exactly. It was a reflex of sorts, if I’m honest.”
He nodded. “That is understandable, particularly since we only met this afternoon. But I would argue that you are, in fact, quite vulnerable without a security escort.” 
The queen nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her. “I just needed to get some air. Alone.” 
“I apologize for disturbing you then. Good night, m’lady.” Tech turned on his heel to leave. 
“Wait,” the queen said quietly. 
Tech turned to look at her, and something in his chest fluttered as her eyes met his. He straightened his stance reflexively. It felt as though she was appraising him, weighing something in her mind. Her eyes were kind though, and he felt his face warm under her gaze. She watched him as he stood stiffly for a few more moments, hands clasped behind him. Finally, she seemed to come to some sort of decision. 
“Would you care to walk with me, Tech? I’m having trouble sleeping, and I find the gardens help calm my mind. And,” she said, grinning mischievously. “It would be irresponsible for me to be out here alone at night without some sort of security escort.”
Tech dipped his head. “Certainly, m’lady.”
“So there’d be no reason to tell Captain Typho you found me out here then. Right?”
“I suppose not, m’lady.”
She nodded, striding towards the stairs before pausing, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “Oh, and Tech.”
“Yes?” he asked, pausing.
“We’re going to spend an awful lot of time together for the foreseeable future as you and your squad have been assigned as my personal security. When it’s just the two of us, please call me ‘Kestia’ or ‘Kes’.”
The lack of formality jarred him, but he nodded quietly as he followed her down the walkway to a set of stairs that led into the greenery. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she stepped onto a carved stone path, her robe and nightgown whispering around her ankles while his bootheels clicked against the pavement. They walked quietly for a while, Tech trying to determine the correct distance to follow, and ultimately finding Kestia matching his stride. He wasn’t certain if she was being intentional, but he surrendered after a few experimental pace changes, falling into step next to the queen. 
If Kestia noticed his experimental prodding, she didn’t comment. She strode through the garden, and while she seemed relaxed, Tech could tell her mind was racing as she paused at certain features, breathing in the scent of various flowers or allowing her fingers to trail through leaves on a willow tree that hung over them. He’d experienced plenty of nights like this where his thoughts kept slumber at bay, but while he normally immersed himself in datapads, he could tell this was Kestia’s equivalent, her best way of working through a problem. 
“If I may, what’s keeping you up at this hour, Tech?” the queen asked, finally breaking the silence as they followed the path along the trickling brook that wove throughout the garden.
He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes in the moonlight, glittering at him like precious gems. There was a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her lips, but her interest seemed genuine, not manufactured out of some sense of social propriety. He took a deep breath. 
“Several things actually.”
She nodded. “Well, would you like to talk through them with me?”
He stared at her with a puzzled expression. She shrugged. 
“I find it helps me sometimes.” 
She seated herself on a stone bench as he stood in front of her, eyes trained on him like a pupil awaiting a lecture.
Nodding, Tech pushed his goggles further up his nose, trying to ignore the nagging fear that he’d bore her. 
“I’m trying to determine the best way to increase our fuel efficiency on our gunship. It seems as though we’ve been running hotter than normal, and while I’ve run the usual set of diagnostics, I cannot seem to discover which part is faulty and causing the ship to consume fuel at a faster rate.”
She stared at him intently for a moment. “May I ask a potentially stupid question?”
He smiled slightly. “There are no stupid questions, m’lady. In my experience, those keep you from making stupid mistakes, which are more costly.”
“You’re still calling me ‘m’lady’.”
“A habit I shall endeavor to break. In the meantime, what is your question?”
“You’re operating under the assumption that it’s some part beyond the fuel system that’s misbehaving, causing the fuel pump to provide more fuel than would normally be required, correct?”
“That is the most logical conclusion, yes.”
“Have you considered that perhaps the fuel pump itself is faulty? Maybe there’s nothing driving a higher fuel consumption, but perhaps the pump itself is doling out excess. Or perhaps there’s something in the ship’s programming that’s making the pump think it needs to provide more than what is required.”
Tech’s mind was suddenly so busy, turning over her suggestion, he didn’t notice the queen’s surprised expression as he sat down abruptly next to her, nor her amused smile as his leg began bouncing energetically as he examined the feasibility of her line of thinking.
“That is not a thing I had previously considered,” he conceded, internally chiding himself. “It’s certainly plausible. I’ll have to check.” 
She smiled, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Sometimes I find it’s easy to go down the path that is the most logical solution and get stuck there. Glad I could help. What else is on your mind? Perhaps I can help solve all of your problems.”
Tech nodded, missing the joke completely as he ticked down his list. 
“I’m working on a new design for a cybernetic limb for Echo. He’d like to have the use of a hand while also maintaining his slicing capabilities. I’ve been attempting to come up with a housing that will be able to tap into his neural system the same way his current appendage does while also maintaining his scomp link within the wrist.”
“Ah, I’m afraid I cannot help you there,” Kestia said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. “Cybernetics are well outside of my area of expertise, and judging by Echo’s neural equipment that’s visible on his head, I have to imagine his is quite complex.”
“You would be correct, but I think there’s an elegant solution. I just have to tweak a few elements of the design concept I’m working on to ensure he’s comfortable with it.”
She hummed in reply, but Tech’s brow did not unfurrow. Kestia noticed.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she pressed. 
Tech felt his cheeks warm once more as he swallowed hard. He wasn’t used to having someone read him so easily so quickly, to seemingly understand him. His brothers did of course, but they’d spent the vast majority of their lives training together. Understanding one another without verbal communication was a necessity for effectiveness. And survival. 
She’s a politician. Being able to read a room and those in it makes her successful. Of course she’d be able to notice things such as personal traits. She wouldn’t have been elected queen by such an overwhelming margin if she did not have such a skillset. 
It did little to calm the sudden flutter in his stomach. He stood, taking several paces to put some space between them before turning back to face her, his hand stroking his chin as he thought.
“Yes there is another thing. But I fear it is somewhat forward and perhaps could be construed as rude.”
She tipped her head back and laughed, a reaction far from what Tech had expected. But at this point, he was starting to understand that the queen defied any and all expectations he had previously assumed. 
“Well, it’s about time someone was rude to me,” Kestia joked. “Everyone defers to me constantly, so I welcome your forward thoughts and potential rudeness.”
Her mirth did little to decrease Tech’s discomfort, but her eyes were boring into him where he stood, and after quickly weighing the options, he decided candor would once again be the best approach. He unconsciously started pacing in front of her while she watched from her seat, her hands still clasped in her lap as she leaned forward, seemingly eager to hear Tech’s thoughts.
“Very well,” Tech replied, taking a deep breath. “I…I struggle to understand why we are needed here. You have a quite capable security force from what I’ve seen, so why recruit a secret fugitive clone team that the Empire is very interested in catching? What added value do we bring?”
She smirked, flicking something off of her robe’s fabric. “Honestly, I find your presence here equally troubling, but I was very much overruled by Captain Typho and several of my advisors and confidantes, including a certain senator that I know colluded with Typho to send you here. I would rather have handled this internally and on my own, but even the Naboo guard has limits. I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t exactly have a strong military presence, so it’s not as though I could have some strong show of force to get my enemy to back down.”
Tech nodded. He had researched the planet and its culture and was well aware of Naboo’s hesitancy to militarize, even after the Trade Federation invasion that had occurred during Queen Amidala’s rule. 
“Do you even know who the enemy is?” he asked. 
“I do. But I doubt you’ll believe me.” Her expression was a neutral mask, completely unreadable to him. It frustrated him, especially when combined with her conversational obfuscation.
“I’d be more likely to believe you if you were candid with me about everything, including the reason why your life is in danger,” he retorted, trying to keep his mild annoyance from poking through his facade. 
“Iden told you-“
“Resources. Yes, but you and I both know that a simple mining dispute doesn’t put the life of a planet’s elected monarch at risk.”
She eyed him carefully, clearly considering her options. Tech did his best not to cross his arms, fearing he’d portray hostility and send her retreating into the palace. Finally, she sighed. 
“Will you tell the others?”
Tech nodded. 
“It would be helpful if we understood our current situation better. Vague details make it harder for us to prepare and formulate any contingency plans. I cannot hide information from my brothers that will help keep them safe. And you.”
Something shifted within her as he watched. She looked away, still contemplating, but he could see her jaw set in a hard, determined line. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she dipped her head, appearing to come to a decision.
“Alright, I will trust you with this. My captain was hesitant because he is very fearful for my safety.”
“Understandable considering what happened to the last Naboo leader he was charged with protecting.”
“That wasn’t his fault. He-“
Tech cut her off gently. “I know it wasn’t. I am merely saying I understand his determination to protect you. He obviously cares very deeply for you.”
She smiled a little, her gaze drifting to a slightly more distant point. “Gregar and I were close as children. He’s always been protective, but sometimes I feel that Padmé Amidala’s death has made that part of him even more fearful.”
Tech nodded in understanding. Kestia’s eyes fell to her lap as she nervously picked at her thumbnail.
“A few months ago, I was informed that one of our mining survey droids detected a massive deposit of Bandorium in one of our lakes. The droid had malfunctioned and wasn’t even supposed to be in that area.”
Tech tilted his head. “Bandorium? I thought that metal only existed on Bandomeer.”
“Until this point, it did. Naboo would be the first place that it’s been discovered outside of Bandomeer.”
“Its use in cloaking technology and its rarity makes it incredibly valuable,” Tech recited, recalling one of the many articles he’d read on intergalactic mining during his time as a cadet.
“Indeed, which is why I had the droid’s memory wiped.”
Tech’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m afraid I do not understand.”
She nodded, still picking at her thumb before finally meeting his eyes. 
“That metal is incredibly valuable to the Empire. They’ve pillaged worlds for far less. This deposit was found near Gunga City, the Gungan capital. In order to mine the deposit, the city would have to be destroyed and the population displaced. In addition, there are numerous Gungan holy sites within the vicinity that would almost certainly be destroyed.”
She stood, pacing in the grass as Tech had been a few moments before. Tech watched her quietly. 
“I had the droid’s memory wiped because I did not want the Empire to get word of this discovery,” she continued. “We classified the information and limited any distribution, compartmentalizing where we could, but some of the information still got back to the Empire. Not the location, only I have that information. However, even just the rumored discovery was enough to inspire the Empire to try and coerce me into revealing the location. But I’ve seen how Imperial mining operations plunder worlds. I know that they’d consider the Gungans collateral.” 
She stopped, turning to look at him, her eyes pleading for some sort of tacit approval, validation that she’d done the right thing. It struck him as odd, particularly from someone that seemed as set in her convictions as Kestia did. 
“When I ran for this office and took my oaths, I swore to protect Naboo and its people, all of its people,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “So I cannot allow that to happen.”
Tech nodded, contemplating the information. Kestia resumed her pacing. 
“Unfortunately, I have made my distrust and distaste of the Empire fairly well known. I stand up against them, and they certainly don’t care for it. Moff Panaka has continued to offer his very unwanted advice about how I should disclose the location and allow the Empire to mine what is required, how it will strengthen Naboo and its place in the Empire, as if I would sacrifice my planet and its people to curry favor with those that are only hungry for power and subjugation.”
Her voice was angrier now, and a vein in her temple throbbed as her pace quickened. Tech was taken aback slightly at the aggression and passion coming from the monarch that had been so subdued when they first met. She suddenly seemed to remember herself, pausing her rapid steps to look at him, a flush spreading across her cheeks as she sheepishly tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I apologize.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I am happy to listen if that is what you require.”
Kestia dipped her head gratefully. 
“Anyway, there have been…threats made. Moff Panaka has repeatedly warned me that if I did not comply, there was a chance the Empire would intervene and elect a new monarch that would be more sympathetic to their cause, someone that would allow them to occupy. What they don’t realize is that I’ve destroyed all records of the location. The person that made the report directly to me has since died quite suddenly. I suspect foul play, but seeing as the threats and assassins haven’t stopped coming, I can only assume they didn’t get the information they needed. Information that only exists in my mind.” She paused, looking at him. “And now, yours.”
The revelation was shocking to Tech, and he let out a sharp exhale. He’d never been one to garner or pursue the trust of others, and yet, Kestia had entrusted him with this information after only a few hours. Information that the Empire was apparently willing to kill for. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral. He’d have to examine how he felt about this later. For now, it felt important to keep Kestia talking, to glean as much helpful information as he could front his very sudden and unexpected rapport. 
“You believe the Empire is attempting to have you killed in the hopes that the next monarch will access the information and reveal it.” It was intended to be a question, but it came out as more of an accusatory statement than intended. 
Kes shrank back slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. She did not waver, but he could feel her appraising him again, trying to determine if she had misjudged him, if he would take her seriously. 
“I do,” she said firmly. “They can’t risk an outright invasion and have the Empire’s name attached to my death, at least not yet, so they hire assassins like the one that recently visited my quarters.” The evening was warm, but Tech saw her shudder slightly at the memory. “I do not believe the Empire will risk an all-out war with Naboo yet to subdue me and my people.” She noted the twitch of his lips. “You disagree?”
He sighed. “A while ago, yes, I might have disagreed with you. Now, I’m not certain. The Empire has grown more dangerous as it’s become more powerful. More bold.”
She relaxed slightly, seemingly relieved that he at least didn’t completely discount her theory. 
“Why not just remove you from office?” he asked after a few moments. “That seems the more politically savvy route. Attacking Naboo’s elected leader is a blatant attack on the planet’s sovereignty.”
“They cannot do it without support from our politicians here, and most of them are against occupation as well. I have plenty of support on my planet. The only way for me to be immediately removed would be…well, to kill me.”
Tech nodded. As conspiratorial and far-fetched as it sounded, he couldn’t deny her reasoning as the pieces fell into place in his mind. If the Empire could keep its name from being tangled with the assassin and pin it on some disgruntled political fanatic, then they could easily slip their own pawn into place while simultaneously tying the hands of any objectors. At best, anyone that made accusations would look like raging conspiracy theorists, and their political careers would crumble. At worst, the Empire would claim treason, and they’d never be heard from again. He sighed, scrubbing his fingers under the rims of his goggles again. 
“So, now you know,” Kestia said slowly. “Do you believe me?”
Tech sighed, meeting her eyes. “I believe they will continue to try and remove you, but ultimately, if they do not succeed, I do not doubt they will try to make an example out of you and your people, one way or another.”
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, and she quickly turned her back to him, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared out across the gardens. Tech slowly moved to stand next to her, studying her features as she thought. He was suddenly struck by how terrifyingly beautiful she was, and how much he found her determination admirable, even if he feared it was against insurmountable odds.
“They can try, but I will not yield,” she said quietly.
Tech hesitated before gently placing a hand on her arm. It felt like the correct thing to do, even though the action seemed to surprise them both. But she did not pull away, instead meeting his eyes. 
“And that is why you need us,” he said softly. “To support you in this endeavor should the Empire ramp up its efforts.”
She watched him carefully, and Tech felt his stomach flip slightly under her gaze. She was somehow even more imposing when she was out of her regalia, a normal woman in every aspect of her appearance. And yet, here he was, trying to remain steady as she pinned him down with her emerald irises. After a few moments, she tossed him another grin that almost felt flippant after the conversation they’d had. He suspected it was meant to put him more at ease than anything, and he was once again struck by how naturally she deployed the tools of a politician. It should have unnerved him but it didn’t. At all. 
Another thing to be examined at a different time. 
For now, he felt content to just exist in this moment rather than planning six steps ahead, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. It felt pleasant as he took in the sounds of the garden, the feel of the breeze on his cheeks and in his curls, and the smile on Kestia’s face.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” the queen of Naboo said, a teasing glimmer in her eye. “I would rather you have wasted your time when this is all said and done.”
He gave her arm a slight squeeze, returning her smile. “As do I. Kestia.”
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