#A star has been lost and my spirit dies

[breeyn]

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

[eclec-tech]

Let's get into this "Tech is dead" thing...

Until someone from the show confirms that Tech is dead, I don't believe it. We've seen this before. Echo died in an explosion. Nope. Ahsoka fell when she dueled Vader. That didn't stick. Maul, Palpatine, Leia, Mace Windu...okay, that last one is still in the air. But my point is that we never saw a body. Face it. If they wanted Tech dead, they would have given him a shoulder wound. I lost track of how many times that proved fatal this season.

For starters, it would be a very bad move! Tech was probably the most loved character on the show even before they further developed his character this season. To remove him from the show would deprive a lot of people of someone who gives them a feeling of true representation in Star Wars.

Then there's Phee. That last "conversation" she tried to have with him was awkward and very specific. They animated him in such a way that he was obviously avoiding eye contact. He was uncomfortable. He didn't want to say goodbye. I don't think he knew how. It looked to me like they were setting us up for a reunion scene.

Now let's talk about Hemlock. Him being in possession of Tech's goggles is another reason I think he's alive. When he held out the goggles and said, "I'm afraid this is all I could salvage," it suggested to me that Hemlock has him. It doubly struck me since he had just used the term "fascinating" in the same spirit of scientific curiosity Tech had used earlier in the season with the Zillo Beast. The only way I can see Tech being alive but not captured in this scenario would be if there is a raging river or deep crevasse beneath the train and all they found nearby was the goggles. (Which means that, if he is alive, we will finally get that goggleless Tech we've been wanting to see so badly all this time.)

Let's not forget the most important thing of all. Tech is an incredibly capable soldier. He is resourceful, exceptionally well-trained, and was fully kitted-out when he fell. It's not hard for me to imagine him using a grappling hook and cable or other means to keep from falling to his death. He said it himself. He has the "ability to think clearly in stressful situations". And if Hemlock has him, he's going to need it.

All this gives me great hope for season three. If Hemlock does have Tech, he would have him transferred to Mt. Tantiss on Weyland. Now, Crosshair and Tech are together with other no-longer-Imperial clones. Omega is there with Nala Se, who wants Omega as far from there as possible. Nala Se is no longer in a cell, but working in a lab—under guard, but with access to equipment. Factor in Omega's clone sister and this has all the earmarks of an epic escape episode.

Fingers crossed.

[nelkenbabe]

the conversations between solas and varric drive me to insanity, i think they might be the longest consecutive, interconnected pieces of dialogue between any companions.

there are so many layers and so much back and forth pushing, so much being said without saying it. they explain so much about solas’ current state of mind, but also show the effects of what happened in da2 on varric

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing.

Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn?

Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it.

Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff.

Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't.

Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is.

───────

Solas: Is there at least a movement to reunite Orzammar and Kal-Sharok?

Varric: What is it with you, Chuckles? Why do you care so much about the dwarves?

Solas: Once, in the Fade, I saw the memory of a man who lived alone on an island. Most of his tribe had fallen to beasts or disease. His wife had died in childbirth. He was the only one left. He could have struck out on his own to find a new land, new people. But he stayed. He spent every day catching fish in a little boat, every night drinking fermented fruit juice and watching the stars.

Varric: I can think of worse lives.

Solas: How can you be happy surrendering, knowing it will all end with you?  How can you not fight?

Varric: I suppose it depends on the quality of the fermented fruit juice.

Solas: So it seems.

Solas:: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little.

Varric: And why is that?

Solas:: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream. 

Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way. 

───────

Varric: What's with you and the doom stuff? Are you always this cheery or is the hole in the sky getting to you?

Solas: I've no idea what you mean.

Varric: All the "fallen empire" crap you go on about. What's so great about empires anyway?

Varric: So we lost the Deep Roads, and Orzammar is too proud to ask for help. So what? We're not Orzammar and we're not our empire.

Varric: There are tens of thousands of us living up here in the sunlight now, and it's not that bad.

Varric: Life goes on. It's just different than it used to be.

Solas: And you have no concept of what that difference cost you.

Varric: I know what it didn't cost me. I'm still here, even after all those thaigs fell.

───────

Solas: You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could've been, never fighting back.

Varric: Ha, you've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.

Solas: How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?

Varric: In that story of yours—-the fisherman watching the stars, dying alone. You thought he gave up, right?

Solas: Yes.

Varric: But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone.

Varric: That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes. And it's gone forever.

Varric: The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.

Solas: Well said. Perhaps I was mistaken.

Varric: You know what I like about you, Chuckles? Your boundless optimism.

Solas: It's comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you'll invent for me, Varric.

Varric: No, really. Why else would an elven apostate help crazy Chantry folk close a hole in the sky?

Solas: When you put it like that, I must concede your point.

PLEASE

[she-talks-to-angels-14]

Homecoming Queen: A School Spirits Story.

Wally Clark x Reader

Part 2

A/N:I just finished season one of school spirits and I had this idea I kind of ran with. This is a single part story but I left it open for more parts and i could definitely be persuaded to make more parts.

Split River High Homecoming week 2013

Homecoming had once again rolled around at Split River High and the festivities had just begun. I was sitting in my first period class patiently waiting for the morning announcements. They were supposed to be announcing the homecoming court during announcements this morning. This is supposed to be my year. I had been voted onto the court each year by my classmates but this year was finally the year I could be in the running to be named Homecoming Queen.

“Good morning Bandits!” Assistant Principal Hartman’s voice echoed over the intercom. “Today kickstarts homecoming week and I know we are all looking forward to our court announcement but there are a few things we must announce before then.”

I zoned out while he rambled off the announcements that came prior to the homecoming court announcement. I was lost in thought wondering if they would change things up this year for the 30th anniversary memorial of Wally Clark, our fallen football star who tragically died during this game back in 1983.

The memorial had been the same since I started attending the football games, since 2007, my brother Lincoln’s freshman season the memorial has always been a moment of silence at half time followed by a speech from his parents. It’s sad really reliving the worst moment of your life year after year, replaying that horrible moment every time you step foot in the stadium named after your son. That must be why his dad stopped coming back in 2008.

“Earth to Y/N!” My best friend Bailey snapped her fingers in my ear breaking my train of thought. “You spaced out, he’s announcing homecoming court now!”

“What grade are we on?” I asked my interest suddenly brought back to the announcements

“Sophomores about to be Juniors.”

I listened intently as each Junior Maid was announced patiently waiting for Senior Maids.

“Now for your Senior Maids,” Mr. Hartman said enthusiastically over the intercom. “Haley Johnson, Bailey Lewis, and Y/N YL/N. Let’s give a round of applause for your 2013 homecoming court!”

“We’re both on homecoming court!” I squealed at my best friend and teammate!

“Maybe a basketball girl will finally win Queen!” Bailey smiled back at me.

“Alright girls settle down.” Mr. Anderson called out, “congratulations but we have a lesson to get through.”

We ended our conversation and Mr. Anderson proceeded with his lesson. The rest of the day passed by rather quickly and before I knew it, it was lunch time. Bailey and I were sitting at our normal table with the rest of the team.

“So Y/N do you have a dress picked out for homecoming?” Sarah asked.

“I sure do,” I said showing her my phone with the picture of my dress on it.

“Oh my god you are going to look amazing!” She squealed.

“Thank you, Bailey’s dress is even prettier than mine.” I redirected the conversation.

While the rest of the team chit chatted about homecoming and their plans for the game and dance I was lost in thought about who I would have escort me during presentation at the game Friday night. My dad and mom separated 4 years ago and he moved off to Florida and has since remarried. I could try to have him come in to escort me along with mom but he would likely have an excuse as to why he couldn’t make it. Maybe Lincoln would escort me along with mom. I spent the rest of lunch lost in thought.

The rest of the week went by fairly quickly. It was a blur of dress up days to show our school spirit. Tuesday was decade day, I sported my best 80s get up. Wednesday was twin day, Bailey and I were twins in our basketball jerseys. Thursday was country vs country club and I dressed like a proper country girl. Lastly Friday was spirit day, I went all out to show my school spirit!

———————————————————————

Homecoming game 2013

I stood with my mom and Lincoln on the track as we watched the final seconds of the the second quarter tick by. We were currently winning the game by two touchdowns. At halftime we were lined up waiting to be presented, the presentation was to take place after the memorial. This year Mrs. Clark gave her speech first. The speech however was followed with a slideshow this year, pictures of Wally flashed on the screen below the scoreboard I had never seen pictures of him before, he was a rather attractive young man. The video ended with the stadium name flashing.

“We all knew his story,” Lincoln said to me as we waited for my name to be called. “He was the football teams idol.”

“He was your idol,” I sighed, “but I can’t help but feel sad for him, he had a young life that was cut short by the sport he loved.”

“He was the best player to grace this field Y:N.”

“Yes he was but could you imagine having the future he could have had only to have your life ended by the sport you loved?” I could feel the tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. “Then every year your family has to relive that awful moment over and over?”

Our conversation was cut short by the announcer calling out my name.

“Y/N is escorted tonight by her mother Amber YL/N and her brother former state champion quarterback Lincoln YL/N.” the announcer spoke into the microphone. The crowd erupted into a roar of cheers although I’m not sure if they were for me or for the returning Split River royalty I was related to.

“Give it up one more time for your 2013 Split River Homecoming Court.” The announcer spoke as we all left the field in the choreographed manner we had practiced all week.

We made our way back to the stage set up for the court and we all took our seats.

“Did you hear the way the crowd cheered for you?” Bailey asked, “I’d say based on that you are definitely our Homecoming Queen.”

“You know they weren’t cheering for me,” I sighed. “They were cheering for Lincoln, a part of Split River royalty.”

“You don’t know that!” She scolded

“I do Bailey, he’s a state champion, I’m just his little sister.”

“You are so much more than that.” She said she popped me in the back of the head. “You are literally one of the most popular girls here, you’re friends with everyone and have always gone out of your way to do for anyone who needed a helping hand.”

“You and I both know that that doesn’t hold a candle to being a state champion around here.”

She rolled her eyes at me but let it go. Thankfully the remainder of the game passed faster than expected and I was able to escape the stadium in no time.

———————————————————————

Homecoming Dance 2013

I walked into the gym with my chiffon train flowing behind me. I felt like a million bucks, this was my last homecoming dance and I was determined to have a good time no matter the outcome of the vote. I quickly found Bailey and the rest of our teammates and we proceeded to head to the camera line where we could take one final team homecoming picture together.

Once we finished with the pictures we made our way out on to the dance floor. The DJ had just started playing ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ by One Direction, we all sang in unison at the top of our lungs “baby you light up my world like no body else,” as we danced and jumped around. The song was fading out and the tune to a slow song was fading in when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Turning around I was face to face with Jax Dawson, our quarterback.

“Can I have this dance?” He asked smiling sweetly and sticking his hand out to me.

“Of course,” I said taking his out stretched hand. He put my arms around his neck and placed his hands on my waste very lightly. We swayed in sync to the music and lyrics of ‘I’ll Be’ by Edwin McCain.

“You look gorgeous tonight Y/N.” He whispered in my ear.

“Thank you Jax.” I could feel my cheeks flush. “You look handsome.”

“Handsome enough I could snag a second dance later in the night?” He flirted

“We might can arrange that.” I laughed.

We danced with each other until the song faded out and a shrill screech of the microphone broke us apart.

“Can we please have our Seniors on homecoming court report to the stage?” The Principal Mrs. Sheridan called out.

I made my way to the stage my heart was beating out of my chest I was so nervous. I could literally hear my heart beating each step I took that got me closer to the stage.

Once everyone was situated on stage Mrs. Sheridan only added to everyone’s anxiety by dragging out the crowning. She started by crowning the Homecoming King, who was none other than Jax.

“No time for your 2013 Homecoming Queen,” she called into the microphone. “Drumroll please, this years Homecoming Queen is, Y/N YL/N!”

The crowd erupted in applause and I stepped to Mrs. Sheridan for her to crown me. Once the crown was secured to my head I turned back to find my best friend Bailey, “You did it,” she smiled, “I knew you had this.”

“Thanks B,” I said hugging her, “finally one of the basketball girls won.” We both laughed.

“Please give it up one more time for your king and queen.” Mrs. Sheridan called out followed by applause.

I had to stay on stage with the court and take pictures for a few minutes after the presentation. Once the pictures were done I headed to the steps of the stage so that I could get back to the dance floor. As soon as I stepped off the first step I felt my dress tug on something causing me to miss the second step and fall down the steps hitting the back of my head on the steps as I fell down them. I could faintly hear people calling my name and I could tell my hair was wet with something, I stuck my hand to the back of my head and brought it to my eyes to see my fingers covered in blood before everything went black.

I’m not sure how long I was out for but when I finally came to I had a major headache and was still on the gym floor. My vision was still slightly blurred but I could make out a male figure standing in front of me.

“What happened?” I asked groggily.

“You fell down the steps of the stage.” A sweet unfamiliar voice responded, “you hit your head on the way down.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Well about that.” The voice responded, I could listen to this boy talk all day,

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked as my vision finally began to refocus. I was face to face with a face I had only ever seen once before, on the screen at last nights game. “Yo- you’re wa- wa.”

“Wally Clark,” he finished my sentence for me “Homecoming King of ‘83”

“That’s impossible,” I panicked. “I must be dreaming or in a comma because you’ve been dead for 30 years!”

“It’s not impossible cherry pop.” A girl with dark curly hair stated plainly.

“The only way it’s not impossible is if I’m.” I choked on the last word of my sentence.

“Dead.” Wally stated softly grabbing my hand.

“No I can’t be dead!” I whaled, “I’ve got a concussion or something.”

“Im afraid not,” a shorter boy with glasses said pointing off in the distance to a crowd of people around someone.

I pulled myself together enough to get up off the floor and see what was going on. I could see Bailey, Sarah and Jax clearly in the distance. I made my way to each of them touching their shoulders and telling them I was ok but neither of them even noticed I was there.

“They can’t see or hear you,” the shorter boy said.

“This can’t be real.” I real I sobbed, as I pushed my way through the crowd to see what the commotion was I saw my lifeless body laid out on the gym floor as one of the teachers attempted CPR.

“She’s not breathing.” The teacher shouted, “I’m going to continue with chest compressions until the EMTs get here!”

“Dispatch says they’re two minutes out,” another teacher called.

My friends were all a wreck, the sound of their sobs and cries tore through my heart like a bullet from a gun.

“She can’t be gone!” Bailey cried out. Sarah could barely speak she was crying so hard. Jax had his head in his hands and I could hear soft sobs escaping his lips. My friends were hurting and there was nothing I could do.

Within minutes the EMTs burst through the gym doors with a gurney. They rushed to the group of people surrounding my lifeless body.

“How long have you been doing compressions,” one of them asked the teacher who had been working to keep my heart beating.

“Ten minutes,” he responded.

“She doesn’t have a pulse,” the other EMT called out. “Let’s try to shock her.” They pulled out their defibrillator and proceeded to put the paddles to my chest. Shockwaves ripples through my body and I didn’t even move. They tried a second and third time with not a single movement. I was gone and I wasn’t coming back.

“Let’s call it,” one of the EMTs said. “Time of death?”

“Ten o’clock,” the other responded.

They began getting a body bag ready and I felt a hand lightly touch my shoulder. “You don’t need to see this,” the sweet voice from earlier said. I turned around and instinctively buried my head in the chest of the tall brunette football player. He wrapped his arms tightly around me as I sobbed into his chest.

“Let’s get you out of here while this is cleaned up.” He said as he ran his hand through my hair.

“Where could we even go where I won’t see them drag my body out of the school?” I sobbed

“Let’s go to the auditorium,” he started walking while he still held me into his side. “You won’t be able to see anything in there.

I didn’t say a word I simply let him lead me to the auditorium. I wasn’t ready to die. I still had so much life to live. I was supposed to go to college and play college ball. Meet a wonderful man and get married and have kids and grow old with the love of my life, I wasn’t supposed to die at my senior homecoming dance!

By the time we had made it to the auditorium my sadness had turned to rage. I was enraged by what had been taken from me. Once the auditorium doors shut I let out a blood curdling scream from the rage that was coursing through me.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s ok,” tried to south me. “I know exactly how you feel. I felt the same way after reality finally set in. Mad at the world for what has been taken from you.”

“I’m pissed,” I cried. “ I had so much to look forward to a now it’s gone. No college ball, no love, no wedding, no kids, no growing old with the love of my life.”

“I get it,” he said putting his arm around me and pulling me to him. “I watched all of those same dreams I had die when I died on that damn football field 30 years ago.”

“How do you live with it?” I asked leaning into his embrace. I felt like I was safe sitting here with him as if not matter what he would protect me from whatever harm could come to me now.

“It gets easier,” he smiled, “eventuality the sting isn’t as painful as it used to be, that and with Mr. Martin’s help.

“Who is Mr. Martin?”

“He leads the afterlife support group we are all apart of.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage “what’s it like being a ghost?”

“It’s nothing like the movies make you think.” He giggled, “we can’t walk through walls, touch people, talk to them, or possess them.”

“So we’re really lame immortals basically?”

“Basically,” he sighed, “we still have the same needs and wants as we did when we were alive though.”

“So what we can get sick or something?”

“We’ll charley is allergic to nuts, even in death if he eats them he swells.”

“So can we still fall in love or have sex?”

“Yes and yes,” he laughed, “I just said we still have needs and wants like we did when we were alive.

God that laugh, something about his laugh was contagious. Hearing him laugh just put a smile on my pained face and I couldn’t fight back.

“I know the night didn’t go how you planned,” he said scratching his neck “but you are still homecoming Queen,” he said pulling out my crown, “and the homecoming Queen does get a dance with the homecoming king.”

“The homecoming king is still alive,” I said quizzically.

“This years king is yes but how about a king from 30 years ago?” He asked as he placed my crown back on my head.

“It would be my honor,” I smiled as I stuck my hand out to him.

“You know I never even made it to accept my crown,” he said as he took my hand in is. “I died the night before they crowned me so I never even got my dance.”

“Until now that is.” I smiled up at the handsome jock who had his arms tightly wrapped around my waist. “We don’t have any music.” I said I we swayed together in silence.

Wally began to hum the tune to ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls then began to sing the opening lyrics. “And I’d give up forever touch you, cause I know that you feel me somehow, you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t wanna go home right now.”

I was mesmerized by how good of a singer he was and before I knew it I was lost in the song. My arms around his neck and my head lay perfectly on his chest, this moment eased the pain I felt moments before for just long enough for me to enjoy the dance.

The song had been over for a while but Wally and I still stood in the middle of the auditorium my arms around his neck and his around my waist neither of us wanting to break the comfortable space we were in.

“Wally?” I asked softly “how did you know that song, it came out years after you died?”

“I’ve been to so many of these dances over the years you can’t help but learn the songs.”

“I see well,” I sighed.

“Well what?” He asked concerned.

“You sang my favorite song very well.” I smiled.

“I’m glad I could do your favorite song justice.” He said as he let one arm fall from my waist and moved it to cup my cheek. “Do you feel better?”

“I do thank you,” I smiled as I leaned my cheek into his touch. Being in this moment felt right I didn’t pull my check away from his touch and he didn’t pull his hand away from me either we are just standing there looking into each others eyes. The next thing I know both of us are leaning into each other, within seconds his lips are pressed to mine in softest and sweetest kiss I have ever felt. His lips are soft and they feel like they were meant for mine. Moments later we break the kiss both of us breathless.

“I will never forget this night Y/N,” he smiled as he ran his thumb across my cheek bone.

“Neither will I,” I say as I reach one of my hands up to grasp the hand he has placed on my cheek.

[dark-and-kawaii]

What about Raphael finding out Haarlep has caught feelings for Tav and Raphael forces Haarlep to drain tavs soul. Happy or sad ending up to you. Maybe tav lives maybe tav dies

༺ 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒫𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 ༻

Haarlep

Notes: oooooh more angst, gimmie gimmie!!! Sorry this took a long time to get to!!! This was so hard to write because Haarlep is my baby and I don’t wanna hurt them (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) but at the same time I do!!! Ahhh!!!! Enjoy ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Added Note: I’ll be replying to my ask box tomorrow!! I just wanted to crank out some stories I had written first!!!

Pairings: Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

Angst - Tragic Love - Character Death - Slight NSFW

Your secret rendezvous with Haarlep did not go unnoticed. Raphael's wrath was as chilling as the void between stars. "Haarlep, how disappointing. Didn’t your mother teach you not to put your hands on someone else’s property?" His voice echoed through the dimly lit boudoir, "You forget that I can feel every last thing you do in my form, even when you shift out of it.”

Haarlep's face scrunched, their heart racing as they faced their enraged master, "An incubus has its needs, and you’ve been oh so busy out there collecting souls.” Their facial expression changed into delight, “I thought it wouldn't be too much trouble if I just took a bite out of your lovely new little treasure.”

Raphael's eyes narrowed,”Is that so?”

He watched as his incubus sauntered over to him, their tail curling up as their hips waved side to side, “I figured, you’d love to be able to use Tav when she isn't around. I now possess the body of your little mouse, does that not please you?”

You could only watch as you clung the sheets to your chest…

Before Haarlep could move in for a kiss, Raphael grabs their face, his grip tightening so that his nails digs into their cheek. A grin curling upon his lips. "You are sworn to me and you underestimate the power I hold over you. You are bound to me, body and soul. Your purpose is to seduce and drain the essence of mortals, not to fall in love with them. Especially when they are already mine.” Raphael threw Haarlep’s head to the side, “To make you understand your role once more you will do as I command."

Haarlep knew they had no choice but to obey Raphael's demand, whatever it may be. If they didn’t keep Mephistopheles son in check, rather keep him satisfied, there’d be a far worse punishment awaiting in Cania.

“You will embrace your role as an incubus, Haarlep. Use your seductive powers to ravage my mouse until she is naught but a wisp of her former glory.” A cruel smile traced upon Raphael's lips. "You will obey, Haarlep. I will not tolerate disobedience."

Haarlep needn’t say it, their eyes told you, ‘Forgive me.’

Your reply was a breathy, despairing acknowledgment of your fate, "it’s okay.”… You nod to them.

Reaching up, Haarlep could feel their hands trembling as they traced the contours of your body… Their lips hovering over yours…

With each thrust of their cock, each moment of forced passion, Haarlep could feel your life force diminishing. Your spirit waned, your vibrancy ebbing away with every kiss, your soul slipping away so it could feed them. Despite the rip in their chest, thanks to Haarlep being an incubus the vile demand was a mix of pleasure and torment, desire and despair, as they surrendered to Raphael’s twisted will.

Your moans only fueled the insatiable hunger within Haarlep, it almost left a bitter taste upon their tongue. Lost in the moment, their incubi ways began to take control. Closing their eyes, Haarlep basked in your pleasure.

Raphael watched from side of the bed, “Marvelous- Drink from her pleasure Haarlep, consume every last bit of her until she is nothing more than a doll for our amusement.”

As the dreadful finale arose, Haarlep felt you clench around them, both your final breath and climax approaching, a cruel harvest for their own sustenance. But you, even in the throes of fading, you mustered a weak smile, a gesture of forgiveness.

“Haarlep," you gasped, your voice a mere shadow of itself, "It’s- it’s not your fault." You reached out, touching Haarlep's cheek, a tear slipping down your own. "It’s… okay…" And with those last words, your hand fell, and the light of your soul was extinguished, leaving nothing but the empty shell of what once was a living being.

Raphael's laughter filled the boudoir, a cacophony of cruelty, "How unfortunate, I did quite like this one, but you see Haarlep? This is the consequence of an incubus delving too deeply into the folly of love. You consume every ounce of it, greedily, uncontrollably, until there is nothing left."

Raphael vanished, satisfied with the night's cruel entertainment, as Haarlep lay there, cradling your lifeless form. Left alone with the bitter knowledge that their nature had been both their greatest weapon and their most tragic flaw.

[princessb4mbi]

MESSAGES I CAN’T SEND

꩜ tags black!reader, therapist!eren, college setting, age gap (reader in 20s, eren in 30s), power dynamic, not so protective sex? mentions of death [not proofread]

꩜ synopsis isn’t it obvious to hide your private life better? or was it not obvious when a video of you dry-humping a pillow was sent to your therapist.

@ word count 3.6k

story below the cut !!

ever since you’ve lost your mother to old age, your mental health has spiraled downwards a little bit. you’ve had the privilege of knowing when she WOULD die and at-least died in a proper place rather than somewhere shitty, so that’s cheered your spirits up a little bit. she was your best friend though, and losing your best friend is painful. you went to her whenever you could, talked on the phone for hours, and slept in her bed every night as if you were still five years old. 

you weren’t the only one suffering though, your childhood friend sasha couldn’t stand watching you wither away. even though she did everything she could, she knew she was capable of oh so much. 

you weren’t the only one suffering though, your childhood friend sasha couldn’t stand watching you wither away. even though she did everything she could, she knew she was capable of oh so much. 

“do you want me to hook you up with my therapist? he’ll seriously help you clear all cloudy thoughts away y/n,” sasha says caressing your cheeks

you move your face away from her hand, “they aren’t cloudy thoughts sas, im just grieving my mother..” 

“i know baby, i know.. but i don’t want to grieve YOU if you die of a heartbreak. i want you to get better, physically and mentally.” sasha looks at me emphatically.

she pulls out her phone and scrolls through her contacts until stopping at a card called “dr.jaeger”. “listen, give him a call please. his prices are cheap and his place is nice. it’s not like those dull white offices with an ugly long chair and a monotone person.” 

you sighed, reluctantly agreeing to her copying and pasting the number to your phone. “okey, i gotta go now babe, but PROMISE me you’ll give him a call, he’ll help you, and if he doesn’t i’ll play for any of your bills ok?” sasha says packing up her stuff. she kisses your cheek before leaving the quiet study area, leaving you alone to your own thoughts. 

you stare at the contact card, pulling dr. jaeger’s name up on your laptop and scrolling through his website. sasha was right about one thing, his prices WERE cheap. about $65 an hour and he also had packages where two weeks of therapy would be about $350 in total.   

the prices however, weren’t enough to convince you fully, as your scroll down to see the reviews.  

“dr. jaeger saved me. after the loss of my wife, i never felt like so lonely, but my daughter told me about him and he’s helped me heal properly and not turn to anything crazy. he’s an amazing person with amazing talents as such a young age. 5 stars” 

ok.. that was something. not that you were going to invalidate them, but that seemed just.. fake. you decided to read another one.

“oh my gosh. no one would believe how amazing someone is at listening and understanding a person’s thoughts. dr. jaeger was nothing like those terrible therapists who make you pay $100 for an shitty hour call. oh how i wished i can say more, but the character limit is fu” 

you giggled at that one. maybe i should give him a call. with a deep breath, you called the number. 

“hello? my name is y/n, i’d like to speak to dr. jaeger please.” 

— 

it’s been about a month since you’ve scheduled a session with dr. jaeger, only having to wait that long due to “heavy traffic”. sasha is currently driving you to the building. 

“you know, i’m really proud of you for calling. i was scared you were going to stay depressed forever.” sasha says over her 80s radio playing. 

“let’s not get too happy yet, he could still be shit at his job..” you say cutting down any happy thoughts. 

“you’re STILL doubting him y/n? i get that some people are money hungry, but i promise you he’s not. if he was, do you think ME of all people would be recommending you to him? i mean c’mon, have some faith please.” 

“i’m sorry, i just nervous ok. my stomach is doing backflips at the moment.” 

“hey man, if you feel like farting, ill park somewhere and you can walk the rest of the way.”

you two pull up to the parking lot, fancy with a modern style front. the office itself if very modern and 2 floored. 

“k, i’m gonna drop you off here, call me when you’re done ok?” 

you walk out of sasha’s car, waving her goodbye while she drives away. you walk into the sleek office, with painting from what you the assume were from the last two centuries. 

the receptionist greets you with a nice smile “welcome, how may i help you today?” you give her your name. “ah i see, you right on time then, ill have this guard guide you to dr. jaeger’s office.” just then, a semi tall man with a black uniform from comes in-front of me. “right this way.” 

he leads me into the elevator, where he then leads me into a hallway with lots of rooms. there’s multiple therapists in this building, all with different ways. as i look through the glass windows, i see pet therapy, group therapy and even massage therapy. the guard finally stops at a door, with a name tag having “DR. JAEGER” on it. “here’s your room, have a nice day.” he says as he’s walking away. you give him a quick thank you and knock on the door. 

a deep “come in.” follows shortly after, and you enter the room. first impression of when you enter the room was that sasha was right. the room was anything from boring, and didn’t have white walls but instead had a mix of brown and auburn. there was lots of old-style decor too. a record player, cd’s and even the tv was kinda old. 

however you were greeted with the most shocking thing of all, dr. jaeger himself. he looked away from his papers, to look at you and gave you a warm smile. his visuals was… something you didn’t expect. most therapist are middle-aged men and women, that are sort-of not the most attractive. but that was ok, because they wanted to help you, not seduce you. dr. jaeger on the other hand was extremely beautiful. he has dark brown hair, put up in a semi-messy bun, the most luscious green eyes, and very kissable pink lips. 

i guess you were admiring his facial features for too long to notice dr. jaeger looking at you weirdly. “maybe un-responsive.” he mutters to himself, typing down on his laptop. upon hearing his words, you apologize and scurried to the seat in-front of him. 

“or not. . . my name is dr. jaeger, if you’ve haven’t gotten a chance to see on the door.” 

“i did, sorry for not responding earlier.” 

“it’s ok, its common for most genders to be shocked at how i look.” dr. jaeger said in a non-concerned voice. you were took aback a little by his comment, most genders to be shocked at how he looked? you were wondering if he was just annoyed at the common occurrence or just knew that he was an attractive man. “pushing that aside,” he sighed “sasha has told me a lot about you.” he says looking up at you. 

“she did?” you question.

“mhm, she cares for you ms….” he looks at the paper look for your last name. 

“y/l/n.” 

“ah, thank you. sasha cares for you ms. y/l/n. she talks about your recovery, and wants you to best happy for her.” he says maintaining eye contact. you can’t respond to such kindness. all you can do is nod your head and smile. 

“but as a therapist view-point, the death of a loved one is one of the hardest battle we have to overcome as a human being. no matter how emotionless a person may be, the death of anything else to them will always cause someone to break. that’s just how we are, we humans . . . after all.” he says empathically. 

“my job isn’t to make you forget your mother, or forget the pain you feel about her. you always feel pain lingering about her, and that’s ok. i’m just here to help you reduce that pain.” 

you were shocked. cheap prices, handsome therapist AND a good one at that? maybe it’s good to stay faithful after all. 

— 

it’s been about 3 weeks since you’ve had daily therapy sessions with mr. jaeger and he’s honestly been helping you a lot. you had different kinds of sessions, like walking around and even some pet therapy. today was for a usual one-on-one walk around the building beautiful outside landscape.

as you and dr. jaeger walk around, you wave to the other clients with their own therapists. “see how social you’ve gotten? when we first came here, you were begging to stay back inside due to all the people,” he jokes around. “now, you’re friendly with them. it’s good progress.” he smiles to himself. 

“it was only because of you, dr. jaeger. i don’t think i’d be the way i am without your help.” 

“ah. . . don’t flatter me too much. let’s sit right here yea?” he says pointing towards the swinging wood benches. “it’s beautiful outside, isn’t it ms. y/l/n?” he turns to look at you. 

“yea, it really is.” you turn back to stare at him. god, you can stare into his eyes for hours. it’s something that about that were so addicting, that you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. to break the silence, you decided to follow up with a cheeky comment. “say dr. jaeger, you really know how to keep a client.” he moves his head to the side, confused. “i like to believe that my clients stay with my due to how i help them and not my looks.” ah fuck. it was not received well at all, and you just profusely apologized to him. 

“but, if my looks did make people stay, that wouldn’t be all too bad huh,” he says giving a hearty laugh. “but tell me now, ms y/l/n. does my looks make you stay?” you were at a loss for words. one part of you wanted to say “fuck yes” while another part of you wanted to say “absolutely not”. and you of course went with the latter. 

“whatever your answer is, it doesn’t bother me either way. . . but it looks like our time is up ms. y/l/n.” you look down at your phone for the time. it was up after he exclaimed. the two of you head back to his office to pick you up your stuff. 

that night later, you were chilling in your bed, getting ready to dose off. you however, couldn’t sleep without thinking about a fantasy. it didn’t matter what type, other than it having to be something interesting. you close your eyes, your mind shifting to dr. jaeger, and the moments between you two that drove you insane. like that one time he wore a turtle neck, showing off his clothed six-pack abs. you imagined yourself touching them, feeling the rock-hardness of them. you open your eyes again, looking around the room. to be honest, you haven’t.. you know what, in a while and you thought it might be time to do it again. 

you move your bedsheets closer to the edge to give you more space. and moved all your pillows away except for one. you pulled your phone out and started to record. it might seem weird to other people, but you like to record yourself, in the time that you couldn’t find anything good on twitter or reddit. 

you start to rock your hips back n forth on the pillow, assuming it the body of a male. maybe it was dr. jaeger body you could’ve been assuming it off. either way, it turned you on, seeing how you started to move faster on your pillow. one of your hands grip the pillow, as the other hand massages your boob. you move faster, enjoying the friction your clit is getting between the pillow and your soaked panties. you close your eyes, imagining dr. jaeger guiding your body with his big, veiny hands. as you’re about to climax, you can’t help but subtly whimper his name. 

once you’ve finished, you end the video. while you’re cleaning up, sasha enters the room. “hey girlie, i was thinking of getting some drinks tomorrow night? wanna come?” she says exciting. “i would but i have a session with dr. jaeger tomorrow.” 

“boo, you’re boring.” 

“whatever, i’m going to the shower, so let me know if anything happens ok?” 

“yea yea boring y/n.” 

you go to the bathroom and take off your clothes, hopping inside the shower. you turn on the water, letting the lukewarm water hit your skin. you are alone with your thoughts until sasha comes inside the bathroom. 

“not to be nosey, but dr. jaeger texted you.” she says. 

“mhm really? what did he say?” 

“i didn’t look at it properly, but something about a daily wellness video?” you knew right away. dr. jaeger usual makes his clients make videos of themselves with positive affirmations, then with their consent, he’ll use it on his website for future clientele. 

“ahh ok! just send him the most recent video.” you photo gallery takes forever to update, so there’s a chance it’ll take forever to show the video of your “naughty time”. 

“ok, sending right now… and it’s sent. if he wants a further conversation, i’ll let you know.” 

“thanks sash.” 

as you walk out the steamy bathroom, and get ready for bed, you check your notifications for any new ones. you go into the chat between you and dr. jaeger, seeing if theres anything new. you took a look at the video of your affirmation, seeing the shirt you wore today as the thumbnail. you clicked on it, expecting your face to zoom out, as you were testing the camera quality always. to your shock, you camera didn’t zoom out. but instead was your body moving back and forth on something. your heart dropped. it couldn’t be. you’re praying it wasn’t. you skip some of the video to see if it was truly what you think it was, but the video suddenly changed to a more in-depth shot of you humping the pillow with your panties being in view. 

your heart start to beat faster than usual. you click off the video to delete it right away. dr. jaeger didn’t respond to it, and it said it was ‘delivered.’ you wanted to tell yourself that he hasn’t seen it, and probably watches those videos early in the morning. you weren’t going to stress yourself out though, you were just gonna go to his office per usual, and get counseling per usual.

— 

you take a deep breath and knock at his door, hoping it all ends well. you hear his “come in” but it sounds different from before. his voice went an octave lower. you walk into the room, seeing a more “messy” side of dr. jaeger. at-least he didn’t look at cleaned up as he usually does. his bun was a lot more frizzy from before and he had two buttons undone on his button up shirt. 

maybe he had a rough morning. you think to yourself. “good morning ms. y/l/n. how was your night?” you stopped for a second. such a simple question was something so dangerous to you. “it was fine, dr. jaeger. how about yours?” 

“oh. one of the best i’ve had in a while.” 

“ah. mine was the worst i’ve had in a while.” you mumbled. 

“really? i would’ve assumed you’ve had a very nice night ms. y/l/n.” 

you stare at him confused. what could he mean by that? yea, you fixed your hair a little better than usual, and your eye bags have gone away overtime, but you truly did have a sleepless night yesterday. dr. jaeger gets up from his chair, to lean on his desk, standing in-front of you. he stared down at you with his usually lighter colored eyes now displayed a dark-green. and his pupils were more extended. 

“i don’t know what gives you the impression that i’ve had a nice night dr. jaeger.” 

he bends to to match the height of the chair, and put both of his hands on the rest, restricting me from mounting off of it easily. “let’s cut the crap, y/n. i saw what you sent me.” at this moment, it felt like 100 daggers were suddenly lodged into your chest. 

“i wondered why you asked what you did yesterday. i thought to myself ‘maybe she thought i was attractive’, but i see it was more than that i see,” he says not breaking eye contact. “you see, as a human, we see something we like, and have many kinds of thoughts about it. and i see the thoughts you have towards me are stronger than what i expected.” 

“i’m truly sorry dr. jaeg-“ 

“call me eren, seeing as that is what you called me in the video.” 

“i’m sorry eren, truly. i don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable or hurt this relationship between us.” i say holding back my tears. 

“hurt? uncomfortable? those words are out of the park right now,” he says standing up. “to be honest, tell me why you came today y/n.” 

“to have a therapy session with you.” you meekly say.

“is my looks standing in the way of you healing with the death of your mother?” he says standing behind me. 

“not at all, dr. jae- eren.” 

“so then what provoked you to send me a five minute long video of you fucking yourself to a pillow in the imagination that it’s me?” you were at a loss for words. he was right. your heart sank as his word dug deeper into you. and you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. you started to quietly sob, feeling large hands down your shoulders. you feel a hot breath near your eyes chill down your spine. “don’t cry, not in this manner at least,” he says in your ear. 

“cry because you can’t handle it, y/n.” 

you stopped and turned to look at him. he had a devilish grin on his face. “handle what?” you say, not catching his gist. 

“you’ll find out soon enough.”

eren lifts you up by the arm and spins you around to face him completely. you didn’t know what was going on, but you didn’t want to push away. your faces was a mere 4 inches away from each other. “can i? y/n. . . can i give you what you want?” 

you look at his eyes then his lips then his eyes again. fuck it, you nod your head and eren kisses you passionately. he stops kissing you for a moment to push the chairs aside. you look at his desk to see his usually messy papers cleaned up to the side. he planned this probably . . . eren picks you up and places you on his desk. 

he places a hand on your chin, rubbing it gently. “open it baby,” he says as his kisses you again, but placing his tongue all over the inside of your mouth. his hands tug on the bottom of your shirt, signaling for it to be removed. in between each kiss, you both take off a piece of clothing until you up to your undergarments. eren slips his large hand under your breast, fondling with it while he leaves wet hickeys on your neck. with the other hand he unclasps the bra, throwing it the ground. he kisses you again, muttering “nice tits”.

you pull at the band of his underwear, “want you in me ren’.” you whine. “patience baby.” eren says sliding your panties off to the floor. 

“are you on any pills by any chance?”, he says rubbing ur slick all over your cunt. “m-mhm ren.’”

“good. so i don’t have to hold back.” 

eren slips his underwear off, revealing his long, veiny and girthy dick. you want to guess it’s around 6-7 inches, but it was gonna tear you up regardless. he strokes his dick, ‘lubing’ it up with his pre-cum. he inches closer to you, having his dick and your hole just one insert away from each other. you open your legs wider and lay down on his desk, giving him more access to yourself. “didn’t even have to ask.” eren said.

he teases the tip of his dick on your clit. your whole body tingles in response, arching your back off the cold desk. “please ren’…” you beg, desperately wanting his dick buried into you. “please fuck me eren.” 

“as you wish.” with that, eren aligns himself with your entrance, slowly pushing himself in. the both of you moan simultaneously from the pleasure you both felt. eren starts to push his hips back and forth into you, keeping a firm grip on your waist. eren keeps a nice pace, making sure to satisfy both sides. suddenly, eren lifts your legs, wrapping them around his waist. you jolted from the tingle he gave you. you were trying to conceal your moans, but every time it was getting louder than usual, eren made sure put his hand over your mouth.

eren’s pace starts to unstable, moving fast at times and then slowing down to grind himself on you. you can tell he was close to his climax, seeing how desperate and shaky thrusts were. 

“‘m so close baby. . .” he grunts. 

“‘ren please! mhm.” you whine, begging him to release. 

“at the same time? what a good girl..” he barely breathes out. 

eren picks you up by the waist to pull you closer to him. there wasn’t enough space between you too, but he didn’t care. eren grinds his dick into you, feeling his dick throb in your walls. then, you feel a warm liquid pour inside of you, while at the same time cry out from your orgasm. 

[slavonicrhapsody]

Hello ! I’ve seen a post mentioning the demigods of the Mausoleum as well as the ones killed by Vyke, and while as the person say that this does have potential for oc writers, I can’t help but wonder who they might be related to. (Like seriously I can’t stop wondering the relation between 9 dead demigods and the demigods we know about as well as the Elden Lords and Marika). So I became so desperate that I finally dare to ask other people their thoughts about it (my family doesn’t even know a little bit of Elden Ring Lore or just forget about it).

Hello! OK this topic has actually stumped me for so long, so I finally got around to looking into the wandering mausoleums and wow is it weird and complicated. 

Lets get the basic facts out of the way… Basically, the wandering mausoleums house the bodies of “the soulless demigods:” 

“The mausoleum prowls. Cradling the soulless demigod. O Marika, Queen Eternal. He is your unwanted child.” (Spirit NPC)

“The sun in eclipse is said to be the symbol of the Wandering Mausoleum where the soulless demigods slumber.” (Eclipse Crest Heater Shield)

The mausoleums’ bells are said to ring "in constant mourning for the soulless demigods.” (Mausoleum Surcoat)

The mausoleums (well, most of them... stay tuned) are defended by Mausoleum Knights, undead warriors who “willingly beheaded themselves so that they may serve their masters in death.” (Mausoleum Knight enemy description) The mausoleum knight Lhutel the Headless earned herself the honor of Erdtree burial for this sacrifice. These knights carry shields bearing the symbol of the Eclipse:

“The eclipsed sun, drained of color, is the protective star of soulless demigods. It aids the mausoleum knights by keeping Destined Death at bay.” (Eclipse Crest Greatshield)

We also know that Castle Sol and Miquella are connected to all of this, because the inhabitants of Castle Sol seem to worship the eclipse… there are two spirit NPCs in the area who say these things:

“Ohh, great sun! Frigid sun of Sol! Surrender yourself to the eclipse! Grant life to the soulless bones!”

“Lord Miquella, forgive me. The sun has not been swallowed. Our prayers were lacking. Your comrade remains soulless... I will never set my eyes upon it now... Your divine Haligtree…”

There is some kind of operation to “give life” back to the soulless demigods of the walking mausoleums centered at Castle Sol. 

So who are these dead guys??? It does seem that they were killed on the Night of the Black Knives… Godwyn the Golden’s murder was said to be “the first recorded Death of a demigod in all history” (via Rogier), so we can assume that these guys were also killed by Destined Death, wielded by the Black Knife assassins. I think they are considered “soulless” because, since they were killed by Destined Death, they died in both body and soul… Ranni set up her ritual splitting the cursemark of death so that she would die only in body and keep her soul, and Godwyn would die only in soul and his body stayed alive, to everyone’s horror… so a killing with no special ritual would just kill both aspects of a person, and prevent them from experiencing the “proper” death of returning to the Erdtree: 

“A proper death means returning to the Erdtree. Have patience. Until the time comes...and the roots call to you.” (Spirit NPC)

So I guess the goal of the eclipse ritual is to retrieve these demigods’ lost souls, including Godwyn’s. 

As for the soulless demigods’ identities, a spirit NPC does explicitly state that a demigod within a mausoleum is Marika’s child. There is indeed plenty of room within the Golden Lineage family tree for there to be a bunch of currently unknown family members, because Godrick is said to be the last of the Golden Lineage and a distant relation of Queen Marika… so that’s potentially a ton of previous generations of demigods that are just not named! These demigods could easily have been killed in order to hurt Marika and the Golden Order in Ranni’s dire plot, with Godwyn being the most devastating loss and the target of her specific ritual. 

I should also mention that there are two unique wandering mausoleums in Liurnia, around the Uhl Palace Ruins, that do not have a bell, are not protected by mausoleum knights, and can only duplicate remembrances of NON-shardbearing bosses. @katyahina pointed this out in this fantastic post, and I wouldn’t have even thought about these mausoleums if I hadn’t read it!! I’m currently unsure if these two soulless demigods had unique identities; however, really interestingly, unlike every other demigod corpse, the corpses in these two bell-less mausoleums are charred black:

(Normal mausoleum)

(Bell-less mausoleum)

So I’m inclined to think that something weird happened TO these two demigods that didn’t happen to anyone else that caused them to behave as less powerful versions, rather than them having unique identities from the other demigods to begin with… but that's just my take. What could have happened to them??? And why are they confined to this one “Mausoleum Compound” area, that’s among the Uhl Palace Ruins, where there are also Ancestor followers??? Literally I thought about this so hard I gave myself a headache. Anyway give katyahina's post a read for some fun ideas about their identities. Whoever they are, I think whatever happened to them means that they’re beyond saving; even the eclipse ritual can’t help them.

Also I could not ever begin to guess what’s going on with the demigods supposedly killed by Vyke in order for him to have gotten great runes and it honestly makes absolutely no sense to me. sorry but if I try to think about this anymore I fear my head will explode

[shannendoherty-fans]

Shannen Tribute by friends and co-stars, from "Let's Be Clear"

I complied these from the next-to-last "Let's Be Clear" podcast episode. The podcast launched last year (2023) by Shannen Doherty:

Holly Marie Combs:

I think Shannen would be really pleasantly surprised by the outbaring of love and emotion that has come from so many different people in places, because she really did often feel like the underdog and vilified, and that she had to prove herself in so many different ways. I think she'd be really surprised and shocked by how many people have reached out and said really beautiful things about her. It's just a testament to who she was as a person.

I'm angry and I'm sad she doesn't get to see the places that she wanted to. And I'm angry and sad that once again I've lost, you know, that person that you can call in the middle of the night, to cancer. I've lost another friend to cancer. And it's really hard when you lose someone who should have and really wanted to live along in full life, not just for herself, but for other people in her family. You know, when I went through tough times in my life, some really horrible stuff, and one day I showed up on her door step, and I didn't know how bad I looked physically until I saw it on her face, and I saw her face change, and I knew I must have been pretty beat up. To her credit, she never shied away, she never took a step back, and if something was wrong, she went full end to help me fix it. And I think that's because she had seen so much pain and trauma in her own life that she didn't want to see anybody else go through it. And whether it was me or my kids. She was literally always a phone call away.

It's so unbelievable that, even knowing she was sick, we just thought we had more time. And she definitely did think she had more time. So I guess for me, that's the lesson is that you think you have time, but you don't. And not many people could do what Shannen did in one day. She was just like a tornado of energy. But I think that's the thing to take away from all of this is you think you have time, and so you know, she would give me an awful hard time that I don't say I love you enough. To anyone. It's not on a like you know, personal oasis, but to anyone in general. And so I would say, you know, tell the people you love that you love and live like there is no tomorrow, because that's what she did.

Brian Krause:

When I got on the show Charmed, I was really nervous to show up and perform in front of her. I knew the stakes were raised that you know, I had heard rumors and blah blah blah. And I got on, I knew my lines, I did my thing, and she just looked over me and she kind of gave a little wink in a good job, and you know, to get her approval that I had formed well and done well. It meant everything.

I was told I was going to be a regular on the show [Charmed] , it was actually Shannen who had said to me, because when you had powers on Charmed, you usually were a bad guy and you died. And she took me aside and she said, no, you're a good guy, and you're going to stick around, and you just keep doing what you're doing and you'll be around for a while. And it was her way of saying, you know, good job, keep showing up and keep kicking ass and kind of joining me, opening her wings and allowing me to be a part of her family. And I was so honored by it that Charmed had this "let's kick some ass" and make really good entertainment, and that was all Shannen … setting the standard of what professionalism was. And I'll never forget it.

And I've been so lucky the last few years to have gotten to know her as we've done comic cons and this podcast, and to know Shannen is a human and her enduring spirit of anything is possible. And if I could say anything to "Let's be clear" fans, Shannen really believed anything was possible with hard work, determination and vision, let's go get it. And I don't think I ever should heard her say I don't know how, or oh what if, or it can't. It wasn't a part of her DNA, it was "oh, we've run into a wall. Okay, let's fix this, let's get this done, let's do this. No, let's take action". And I think anything I could pass on that rubbed off on me that meant so much was our work ethic and desire to do what she wanted to do and live fearlessly. And I'm going to take that with me and try and do it every day, every day, every day. I love Shannen so much and I wish I got a chance to tell her that she's an amazing, amazing human being… I just feel really lucky that I was able to be a part of [Charmed] . I'm forever grateful for her friendship.

Drew Fuller:

In honor of her, Let's be very clear: Shannen was a warrior. She faced adversity head on with everything that she got and refused to be a victim. She lived her life with so much passion, with love and a fearlessness that I will strive daily to replicate. She's inspired, hired millions of people, She's inspired me, and I will love her forever, and I hope each and every one of you listening will honor her spirit by living the way she lived.

Dorian Gregory:

I remember her with a smile and the laughter and the joy that we shared together, and that way it will live forever. I was impacted by that. First thing on set. I heard this amazing laughter. I looked around the corner and it was Holly and Shannen sharing a moment having such genuine, real laughter. I walked over first days awkward, she welcomed me warmly, and that was and then a lot.

I come from a house of strong women to turn. Accomplished and sharp as sharks, sharp as sharkingby. That was her. My father passed from cancer, and my mother passed with cancer. So I have a little idea of what happens on the day to day. I say this: because I remember Shannen a year ago and her autographs on me. It's the last time I actually was there physically around her and her wit and her warmth and her energy and her strength just as strong as ever, and her generosity and care for her fans… In every convention I've been with her, every time i've been in her presence. A week ago we did a podcast and Shannen was sharing her years of experience in this distance and the ins and outs, and the ups and downs, and her artistic affectionism, and that was so wonderful to hear.

James Eckhouse:

You were a ferocious spirit. You were ferocious in your work, your talent. You're ferocious in your love. You're ferocious in your courageous battle with cancer. I really loved working with you both as actor and director. Yeah, you always brought all of your heart to every scene. And when I brought my young kids to the set, I'm forever grateful to you for being so welcoming, so kind. They never forgot. We honor you and we treasure you. You will be sorely missed.

Mark Damon Espinoza:

Our storylines [in "Beverly Hills,90210"] were always going in different directions, and I'm really sorry we didn't have more opportunities to actually work together on screen. She was a terrific actress. However, when we did pass on the set at the studio wherever we were, you know, make up, trailer or wardrobe or whatever. She was always really really nice to me. And at the time, it would have been very easy for me to be intimidated. You know, I was working with some of, if not the most famous young people on the planet at that time. They didn't have to be nice. Shannen was, however. And I'll always remember that.

Years after "90210", she was shooting something at the gym where I was working out… and I was a mess. I was just coming from a run and I was sweaty, but she saw me from a good distance away and stopped production, came over to me, gave me this huge hug and wanted to know how I was doing. And she didn't let me go until I told her. I mean, not everyone would hug a sweaty guy at the gym after they've been in hair and makeup and and have a crew waiting. But that that's Shannen, and I'll keep in my heart, you know. That's that's the one I'll remember for the rest of my my own life.

None of us are immortal, and our time is far too short. Hers was far, far too short. But her energy, her her fight, her spirit, that'll live on. That'll live on.

Shenae Grimes:

I owe more to Shannen than I'm sure she ever knew, than most people know. If it weren't for Shannen, I would not be who I am in so many more ways than one. I had the good fortune of being cast on the spin off series of "90210" in 2008, playing the character Annie Wilson, who was part of the brother's sister duo that moved from a small town to Beverly Hills. And the only reason why that happened is because Shannen Doherty created one of the most iconic characters ever to be on television in my opinion, and I think a lot of people would agree with me on that one. Shannen Doherty created the character that we all fell in love with.

I had the incredible fortune of stepping into a tiny version of her shoes and hopefully follow into her footsteps in a way that made Shannen proud. Because Shannen was so warm and so lovely and so fiercely strong and unapologetic, and she is the type of woman that I have always aspired to be. And it was watching her do it despite everything that she was met with and continue to forge ahead, being true to who she was that gave me the confidence to do the same, no matter how much resistance I've been met with throughout my life. Because of that, and there, I've said it before, there's really not been much of a blueprint for how to be a strong, unapologeticly strong woman in a world and society that is so determined to tell you not to. But she did it. She did it, and she, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the very few that is the blueprint. It's women like Shannen Doherty that give the rest of us permission and confidence to demand what we deserve, stand up for ourselves, and not take any shit. And I hope I'm allowed to say that, but I think Shannen would be okay with it. In my short time of getting the job on "90210" and starting to film and being a part of the tabloid fodder and media craze that was at that time, it was only a little why into that process and that experience that I met Shannen and had the privilege to actually work with her portraying the character of Brenda alongside me on "90210". And at that point, already in just a short window of time, I had been so mentally broken down by the experience. You know, I was eighteen when I moved out to La to take on the job. I was by myself, left my family back home, really didn't know anybody other than my cast. And the behind the scenes drama that "Beverly Hills, 90210" was known for definitely was recreated behind the scenes of our spinoff of "90210" as well. And I think Shannen and I am not having ever spoken about it, but I think a lot of our experiences, or the experiences I had, mirrored a lot of the experiences that she had.

Meeting her that day in the trailer, I was so exciting because she was my favorite character from the original show. I had watched it with my mom growing up, so I was a super fan of her already, and I think, you know, brown hair like, she was the gorgeous brunette for the show, so I felt most like tied to her, and I was so nervous meeting her, and she literally just like welcomed me into her trailer with the biggest smile and the warmest hug, and it was like I don't even know if she meant to communicate this with her hug, but it made me feel so seen and like I was not alone in everything that I was experiencing at that time, because it was a lot. It was a lot for an eighteen nineteen year old girl to go through. And getting that hug from her, knowing that she experienced so much at times a million when she was my age, like, was everything to me because all I saw with this was this beautiful, strong woman who was so resilient, who had made it out of that experience still with her chin held high, fire in her belly and being true to who she was, and to me, that was Shannen Doherty. The queen of the Badasses that give us all permission and confidence to be who we are, to demand respect, and to never settle for anything less tan what we deserve.

David Lascher:

I always admired her for being such a strong woman. She knew what exactly what her voice was. She didn't pander to anybody. My scenes [on "Beverly Hills, 90210"] weren't with Shannen, and she was a tough nut to crack, to be honest, she was guarded. But then we became friends. She had this soft side to her that I think a lot of people didn't know, and she was a beautiful soul, and to see such a strong person have to fight the fight that she went through was so heartbreaking and I really thought she was winning. And I'm just so sad and heartbroken, and I love her soul and I hope she's at peace.

Randy Spelling:

Ever since I saw that smile on "Little House on the Prairie" it just lit up the screen. And Shannen lit up the screen, every screen that she was on. She lit up a room, every room that she was in. She just had this energy about her, and she was small and she was slight, but she just had such a big presence and energy that you could feel tough at times, soft and sweet at times.

Shannen, you will be so missed. You will always be my first legitimate crush. And I know you were greeted by so many loved ones. Thank you for being you and for being so committed to that which you believed in and showing that to the world. No matter what it was, you had this incredible commitment and tenacity and drive and passion to go after what it is that you believed in.

Dean Butler:

When we met Shannen for the first time at the beginning of season nine of "Little House on the Prairie", she made a very strong impression. And that impression there were a couple of things. One, she was talented. There was no doubt that Shannen had a gift. And the other thing that you couldn't miss about Shannen is that Shannen was determined to make something of herself in the entertainment industry. She had one of the most powerful motors in that area that I've ever seen in all the years that I've been around our industry. Shannen left us way too soon, but not unlike someone else that she and I both worked with on "Little House", Michael Landon, who died at the age of fifty four from pancreatic cancer. Shannen fit a lot of life into her fifty three years, and she will be remembered for it.

Kevin Smith:

Shannen broke the Internet before the Internet even existed. She's an American icon.

When I went to work on 'Clerks', when we went to Minnesota to shoot the movie, it was almost as if you know the business, Hollywood whatever, you know, I'd arrived with my first movie, but here I was about to take make my second movie, first with the studio, first with a real budget. And the first person from the industry to meet me over this bridge that I crossed thanks to making 'Clerks', the first person in the business of professional who was there to welcome me was Shannen. And I always found that wonderful and bittersweet and ironic that I spent so many nights watching her [on 'Heathers' and 'Beverly Hills, 90210'] on this little television grainy TV, and then I saw her in all her glory in real life, no grain whatsoever. I had a crush on her then I'll always have a crush on her. She was a force of nature.

One month since your departure. Forever missed. Never gone, never forgotten.

[infinitecyanroses]

The Cyan Roses and Their Connection to Bobby

Ever since I first watched the streams from Bobby's death I have been intrigued by the cyan roses that appeared and how the admins used them story wide, hence my username. So today I've decided to gather up all my thoughts about these flowers and explain how they stand out as a unique symbol in the qsmp. First I'll start with a summary of the cyan rose appearances on the day of Bobby's farewell and then I'll go into speculation about what these flowers could mean for the story the admins are telling.

So the day after Bobby lost his last life in the dungeon, both Roier and Jaiden reunited at Roier's house and Bobby's castle where they chatted with Cucurucho since Bobby's fate was still up in the air. After Cucurucho told them both to gather all their friends together, Cucurucho leaves and Roier and Jaiden both notice a single cyan rose right in front of the entrance to Bobby's castle.

Both of them point out that this flower wasn't there before and despite there being no other flowers like it around the house or castle, the flower's color and placement instantly reminds both Roier and Jaiden of Bobby.

Cut forward to when Roier, Jaiden, and everyone else in the server start the journey to make it to where Bobby died, the group notices a trail of cyan roses that seem to point in the direction they're taking.

The path of cyan roses doesn't last too long but Jaiden immediately points out their importance and begins to pick up all of the flowers she can despite it slowing her down (Baghera helps her too).

Then when the group finally made it to the top of the dungeon, they discovered an elevator block that took them to the white QSMP room where other parents had also met with the spirits of their dead eggs, only it was now decorated with grass blocks around the room and some of Bobby's favorite things. Cucurucho then explained that Bobby was actually dead and once Jaiden and Roier agreed to take the 10 minutes with Bobby that Cucurucho offered, Cucurucho started to place cyan roses on the grass blocks around the room until a bunch of cyan roses encircled the room.

After Cucurucho had placed the flowers and everyone else left, the wall opened up so Roier and Jaiden could see Bobby, now sporting a halo. They spent their 10 minutes with Bobby and got even more time with him as everyone else got to come back and wish Bobby farewell.

Since that day, the cyan roses have become important to Roier and Jaiden with Jaiden using the roses she gathered from that day to decorate her sunset watching spot at the new base she made in Bobby's memory. While Roier has not added any new cyan roses around the house and castle, the cyan rose that they first found in front of the castle has remained untouched to this day. Other characters have also picked up on the cyan roses' connection to Bobby. Leonarda hung up a framed cyan rose on the wall of Bobby's tomb while she was building it and Richarlyson and Cellbit used cyan roses to decorate the cafe made in Bobby's honor, Star Bobby.

Speculation Time

At first the cyan roses seem to be just a simple decoration the admins added to add some beauty and symbolism to the day of Bobby's farewell but this still stand out as the first time a unique item has been linked to a character in such a way in the server. While a lot of the eggs have items associated with them, what makes the cyan roses stand out with Bobby is that Bobby had never been associated with cyan roses before. Bobby was associated with flowers since he and Jaiden have given each other flowers before, but Bobby had never interacted with cyan roses before from what I can tell. Yet, these flowers seem to be associated with Bobby's presence.

What recently clued me into the roses being more than just decoration was when Forever recently broke into a Federation base and discovered a cyan rose inside of a password protected chest. Why would the Federation keep a single flower like this protected?

While this could be a red herring, all the other previous clues make me believe that the roses were important for bringing back Bobby. Rubius recently said he came back as the angel for the first egg funeral because the Federation needed his help temporarily bringing the eggs' spirits back. The angel wasn't there for Bobby's death though. What Cucurucho did do before Bobby's spirit was revealed was place the cyan roses around the room, almost like a summoning circle. Perhaps the Federation figured out how to imbue the flowers with parts of Bobby's soul/essence. Going with the qsmp's theme of codes and computer simulations, maybe the flowers are connected to Bobby's code somehow.

Now I do not want to get anyone's hope up about a potential Bobby resurrection. Jaiden has a bunch of these flowers around her house and there's still no sign of Bobby, but I do think these flowers may hint towards the Federation's potential experiments with mortality/immortality. Just keep an eye out for anymore cyan roses popping up in connection to the Federation.

[margindoodles2407]

So.

Was anyone going to tell me before I started reading the William Shakespeare's Star Wars Series by Ian Doescher

That this man rivals Matthew Stover himself in his ability to take Revenge of the Sith from tragic to absolutely SOUL-CRUSHING?

@whyoneartheven GET OVER HERE AND TAKE A LOOK AT THIS. YOU LIKE SHAKESPEARE WE CAN BE NERDS TOGETHER

Highlights from The Tragedy of the Sith's Revenge:

The use of Rumor as a character and a plot device, like in Richard III, because Dramatic Irony

After the whole "Hey the Jedi Council doesn't trust the chancellor, we need you to spy on him" debacle, Obi-Wan gets a monologue about how much he loves Anakin and has been worrying about a growing darkness within him, and swears to do whatever he can to prevent him from Darkness

The Tragedy Of Darth Plagueis The Wise (tm) is a PLAY WITHIN A PLAY THAT PALPATINE ASKS THE ACTORS TO PERFORM, like in Hamlet, CAUSE PALPATINE AND ANAKIN ARE AT AN OPERA OH MY GOSH I LOST MY MIND IT'S SO COOL

Padme keeps having lines about how worried she is for Anakin and how she keeps praying for the preservation of his soul ;_;

After Anakin's fall, he and Palpatine are referred to for the REST OF THE PLAY as Vader and Sidious

TWO UNNAMED JEDI HAVE THEIR OWN SCENE ABOUT HOW WHILST LOOKING THROUGH THE CLONE HANDBOOK (tm) THEY NOTICED THAT A CERTAIN ORDER WAS SKIPPED OVER. THEY THEN LAUGH ABOUT IT AND GO TO WATCH THE YOUNGLINGS DO THEIR LIGHTSABER PRACTICE

Sidious has a soliloquy about his awfulness. ENDING IN: "Die, light, die, any good that ever was,/Die, wisdom; yea, die, virtue, die, respect,/Die, honor, die, nobility, die, right-/These qualities shall perish on this day./For lo, the Sith do ply their merry tricks,/Come, Death: thy name is Order Sixty-Six."

I AM SCREAMING

FREAKING CODY HAS A MONOLOGUE ABOUT HOW HE DOESN'T WANT TO KILL HIS BEST FRIEND OBI-WAN

I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS POSSIBLE TO MAKE ANAKIN KILLING CHILDREN SADDER BUT APPARENTLY IT'S POSSIBLE IF YOU HAVE HIM ASK THEM IF THEY'VE SAID THEIR PRAYERS BECAUSE, AND I QUOTE, "I WOULD NOT KILL YOUR UNPREPARÉD SPIRITS;/NO, HEAV'N FORFEND! I WOULD NOT KILL YOUR SOULS"

When Yoda sends Obi-Wan to fight Anakin on Mustafar, Obi has a monologue about how PERHAPS, ONE DAY IN THE FUTURE, HE MIGHT BE ABLE TO COME TO TERMS WITH THE FACT THAT VADER HAS EFFECTIVELY KILLED ANAKIN "FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW"

The whole "You turned her against me/You have done that yourself/You will not take her from me/Your anger and your lust for power have already done that/et cetera et cetera/I will do what I must/You will try" is done using, of all things, Nautical and Sailorly imagery. High Fantasy Star Wars, Anyone? (this legitimately made me so happy; they also have a similar conversation in The Clone Army Attacketh during the scene where Padme's asleep and they're talking about politicians)

WHEN. WHEN OBI CUTS OFF HIS LEGS AND IS DOING THE WHOLE "YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE" SPEECH. ANAKIN HAS A MONOLOGUE ABOUT HOW HE'D CRY TO OBI-WAN FOR HELP BUT (HE THINKS) OBI-WAN WOULD ABANDON HIM, WHICH ENDS IN "I HATE YOU"

Hey. Hey listen. Obi-Wan, after the battle, SINGS a FUNERAL LAMENT for Anakin

"Although it may be said that I have won,/Herein hath died the heart of Obi-Wan" EXCUSE ME MR DOESCHER WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A CONVERSATION

No no, listen to what Padme says about her children: "He shall be Luke, and walk among the skies./Heart of mine heart, and issue of my love." "'Tis Leia, who, like me, is royalty./Brave spirit, do remember thy sad mother."

(loud ugly sobbing can be heard from Margin)

I AM. NOT OKAY

[xxxregulusblackxxx]

My thoughts on "Memories through the veil" written by searchingstar recommended by @crimsonlovebartylus

I went to go read "Hit me hard and soft" And then saw this... So we're reading a really angsty fic first

"His only reason for ever caring about such things had died long ago. Twenty-six years to be exact. Twenty-six years of loneliness. Of nothing but pain, longing, and grief. He had heard tales of people going mad with grief, during the war it was not uncommon to hear stories of witches and wizards who lost their loved ones and did unspeakable things to avenge their deaths, even going so far as to get themselves killed in the process. Barty was never sure, back then, if he believed that grief could do such things to a human mind. Now, however, he understood. He understood how pain like that of losing the one you love more than anything else in the entire world, could drive you to do things you would’ve never imagined yourself doing. How grief of that intensity made you lose yourself completely because you just didn’t care anymore.

That is what losing his Regulus had done to him. It had driven him mad."

Uhm.. JAIL! You need to go to jail omg this is so sad but so amazingly written, ugh I love this and hate it so, so much.

"His star. His beautiful star that shone so brightly, despite all the bad things that happened around them"

" Loving Regulus had given his life a sense of meaning and hope that he never thought he would get to experience."

My GOD I knew it was going to be sad but this is "Crimson Rivers" and "Art Heist, Baby!" level sad

" It felt like coming home. Because that’s what Regulus had always been to him. Home."

My heart is just in pain, physically.

REGGIE'S POV OMG IT'S SOMEHOW WORSE?!

"The second Regulus watched the Aurors grab Barty, as he watched them drag him away and he saw that look in his eyes, that empty and numb look that had made his body tense up in pure terror, he started screaming"

"Regulus became almost hysterical"

"He’d been forced to watch this once before. That’s what death was to him, not relief or a sense of peace as it had been for so many of the other spirits around him. No, to him, death had been a curse. Cursed to stand here and watch as Barty was dragged to his cell the first time for a crime he didn’t commit. Not able to comfort him as he screamed himself hoarse through the nights inside that same prison. Unable to save him as his father tortured him for years after breaking him out. Death truly was a curse. The cruelest form of torture he had ever experienced."

"He started slamming his fists against the invisible wall that separated him from the world of the living. Slamming so hard that even though he didn’t have a physical body anymore, he felt traces of pain rush through him. And he screamed. He screamed so loudly and so desperately that no soul on his side of the veil would go unbothered. "

Omg that is- He just has to WATCH!

And there taking his soul so he'll never get to see each other again?! That so sad and I know it's what happened in canon but like, this is somehow worse?

Uhm I'm gonna go cry in my bed now but it was so beautifully written. Please go check them out

[sassy-man-apocalypse]

ive looked through the masterpost (and also just scrolled on the wcau tag) and I couldn't find anything mentioning him, so what about Mal ? :o

I wonder if it's a similar situation to Nik/Wishingpond in this au, or maybe he's trapped in the mortal realm like William. MAYBE STARCLAN IS LIKE PUNISHING MAL FOR SOMETHING SO HE WANDERS LIKE A LOST SPIRIT. oughh thinking about this au tickles my brain /vpos

VWRY OSRRY FOR THE LATE REPLY MY FRIEND!! I have been in a stump these past few weeks but I should be BACK fulltime to answer you all now :D

Mallard is called Duckthorn in this AU! He was a warrior from a further away clan that had pretty close ties with the darker, dangerous part of the forest ( of which spiritwhisper comes from ). Duckthorn ended up tying himself with the dark forest, training there a multitude of times, and found himself there once he died.

Since then, he's been trying to get into contact with cats who had specific abilities and strong ties to starclan, though it'd been generally fruitless until Spiritflare ( Clarence ). They actually became sort-of-friends until Spiritflare's untimely travel to the stars.

Havenclan is very aware of him and have warned the other clans about him as well. Most cats aren't really sure of his goals or motivations. Spiritwhisper has been perpetually targeted by him since apprenticeship 🙌

That's basically it for Mal :D do not fear send me more ASKS!!!!!! I love answering them

[you-are-my-neverland]

writeblr introduction

this is my fifth-hundreth time doing this, but i wanted an easy introduction that i could update without many frills, so here goes.

introducing....me!

online, i go by star! (she/her)

college student majoring in foreign langauges, with a chinese (mandarin) concentration and a linguistics minor

i hope to go into literary translation of some sort, but we'll see how it goes

in my free time, i like to watch asian dramas, listen to music, and read; i also dabble in video editing

i talk about the above and more on my main @astarlightmonbebe, which i also follow from

when it comes to writing, i love reading/writing

character driven stories with lots of complicated relationship dynamics (give me more of we-used-to-be-close, estranged or otherwise multilayered found family/sibling relationships, fated to be but hate it, etc)

magical realism, especially coming-of-age

low or middle fantasy

lore/mythology/religion (love folklore, legend, especially ones that change, grow, and are more real than they seem)

what i'm working on (current as of august 2024)

wip: godhood

naying yue’s father has been missing for three years. after stabbing her bff/lover in the eye and getting expelled from college, she decides to celebrate her twenty first bday by killing herself. however, her plans are derailed when she is attacked by monsters, rescued/kidnapped, and told her father abducted her as a young child, and that her real identity is the heiress to a powerful family who is part of the mysterious Outsider World…

new adult low fantasy inspired by/incorporating wuxia elements

drafting book one right now; will likely be at least three books if i get there

comic sans ppt

other ideas bouncing around

a high school sports wip revolving around a sport called cyclone, where biking meets medieval jousting to create a very metal sport. gil reyes, once a cyclone prodigy and now on limited time, finds himself dumped and kicked out of his cyclone crew. a street tournament with a cash prize and a claim to fame leads to him starting his own crew, recruiting the scholarly sprinter, aadya; high school dropout and underground stunt rider/racer, yama; the duo of sprinter winnie and bruiser jade; a rural girl with brute strength and a boxer’s instincts, elle; and a brilliant time trialist who knows nothing about cyclone, pazu.

paper tigers

status: constantly rotating around in my head on a hot plate

when moonlil acang's father, the warlord of the north, dies in a violent explosion of which the only survivor is a mysterious girl he has apparently brought back from the mountains, moonlil is forced into a position he's never wanted. setting inspired by 1920s china/chinese history. featuring: grave robbery, complicated siblings, mythological elements, and a dose of revolutionary, imperial, and military politics.

the phosphene phenomenon

status: sketching out the details, potentially plotting

three years after witnessing a total solar eclipse and falling into a coma, diyu wakes up to find himself with New Eyes and a ghost attached to him. lalita's been dead for years, but she knows nothing but her own name. tasked by death to help other spirits move on before she, too, can find her afterlife, lalita and diyu have no choice but to team up, along with sunny, the one person diyu has never been able to stand. featuring: a super intense rivalry (swear), self discovery journeys, ghosts and mental illness, agents of death, and so on.

previously on here i’ve successfully completed the first drafts of two wips, fairbone and the metamorphosis of the lost (tmotl), which still occasionally pop up.

i’m not always the most active, especially during the school year, where my focus is on trying to write a few words a day if any at all, but i’m always excited to hear and interact with other’s work!

[themirokai]

After all the lead up... it's here! Three years after posting the last story in my Mystrade spy series, His Professional Capacity, I'm back with a new installment.

The Bell Bird - Chapter 1

When a known assassin comes to London, Mycroft brings Greg along for some spying.

Tags: Assassins, Spies, Mycroft's job, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft's work kids, Mycroft is a softie

2,744 words

If you just want to know the basics of the world and the characters before jumping in to this story, I recommend reading Protégé. If you want to get all the references, start with What He Does and read through the series from there. Each post has the next one linked at the bottom, or you can read them all on AO3.

The first chapter contains spoilers for the Count of Monte Cristo. If you haven't read that and plan to, I recommend skipping from where the characters start talking about it to the section break.

This story is completely written and is just being edited at this point. I anticipate posting a new chapter every Sunday, but we'll see.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

“I’ll see you for lunch.” The words were murmured against Greg’s cheek, followed by a soft kiss. Greg woke just enough to grunt an “Uh-huh” in response before sinking back into his pre-dawn sleep. 

“Hey, boss!” Sally called from the other side of the crime scene they were studying. Greg looked up at her, and she jutted her chin towards the street. “That’s for you, innit?” 

Greg followed her gaze to the sleek black sedan waiting by the kerb. He swore. It wasn’t that he had forgotten that he had agreed to meet Mycroft at his office for lunch, he had just lost track of the time. “Sally, is there any way you could—” 

“Yeah, boss.” She grinned. “I’ve got it. Just try not to look too dishevelled when you come back, alright?” 

Greg rolled his eyes. It had been one time in the early days when he and Mycroft could hardly keep their hands off each other, that he had pulled himself out of a black sedan looking slightly worse for wear. They had been through a lot since then: a hostage situation, the following recovery, an assassination attempt—and, of course, they had now lived together for well over a year. But Sally was covering for him, so he took the teasing without protesting that his days of acting like a horny teenager were behind him. 

“Thanks, Sarge!” he called as he stood and dusted a few stray blades of grass off the knees of his trousers, then trotted over to the car. He opened the front passenger door and smiled at the driver. “Hey, Lucy.” 

“Hey yourself,” Lucy replied, unable to suppress her grin even though she was annoyed. “Get in. You’re late. You could have let me know you wouldn’t be at the Met.” 

Lucy Simmons and Mycroft had been junior agents together at the beginning of their careers. But just as Mycroft’s star was starting to rise, there had been an accident. Mycroft hadn’t given Greg details except to say that an innocent person had died as a result of Lucy’s actions. Reading between the lines of what Mycroft had felt he could say, Greg concluded that the incident had broken Lucy’s spirit and she had left the Service.

Later, when Mycroft needed a driver, he had found Lucy and asked her to come work for him. He had told her that he wanted someone who had intelligence experience and the proper security clearance, but didn’t have ambitions within the Service. Greg privately suspected that Mycroft had also wanted to make sure Lucy had a stable job with a good paycheck. 

“Sorry,” Greg winced. “New murder.” He pulled out his mobile to text Mycroft. Running late, in car now. Very distracting murder, sorry. Still good for lunch? 

“No novel?” Greg asked Lucy, looking around for the paperback she kept on hand for the times between driving Mycroft places. Greg liked Lucy a lot, but she was tight-lipped about anything personal, so books always fuelled their conversation when it was just the two of them in the car. 

Lucy sighed and touched the tight bun in her greying hair. “Glove box. Don’t poke fun.” 

Greg’s mobile pinged with Mycroft’s reply. I would still like you to come, but we will be a bit more rushed than I had intended.

Greg sighed as he texted back. Sorry. Love you.

“You reading a bodice-ripper?” Greg put his mobile away and opened the glove box to pull out a thick tome. “Count of Monte Cristo? Again, Lucy? How many times have you read this book?” 

“I said not to poke fun!” 

“I’m not poking fun. I am asking how many times you’ve read it.” He waved the book at her.

“It is the perfect book!” she said defensively. “It has pirates and buried treasure and star-crossed lovers and fighting and poison and wildly complicated revenge plots!”

“And all of the female characters are ridiculous one-dimensional parodies,” Greg said, depositing the book back in the glove box. 

“Ok, Mr. Enlightened Feminist, most of the male characters are that too.”

“And a child gets murdered and the accessory to murder completely gets away with it!”

“Listen, copper, it was a bratty child and an accident, and the accessory felt bad.”

“Yeah, he felt bad as he went off to live his life of luxury with his child bride who literally saw him as a father figure!” 

“There are well over a thousand pages of good stuff before that slightly questionable ending.”

“Uh huh. And how many times have you read those thousand pages of good stuff?”

“A few,” she admitted. “But I average two books a week, the vast majority of which are new to me, so I can have some literary comfort food sometimes.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease. Oh! I started reading this new space opera a few days ago; it’s incredible.”  

Greg exited the lift to Anthea’s slightly disapproving gaze. “They’re waiting for you,” she said by way of greeting. 

“They?” Greg frowned and she waved him into the office. 

“Sir, there’s no reason to do it this way!” The thick Scottish accent met Greg’s ears the moment he opened the sound-proofed door. 

“The reason to do it this way, Mr. Romer, is that I say we are doing it this way, and that is sufficient.” Mycroft’s tone was calm and definitive. 

Greg entered to see Mycroft seated behind his large mahogany desk with Agent Peter Romer pacing in front and Agent Fatima Ahmad lounging in one of the chairs. Romer’s hair was short and blonde, a look Greg hadn’t seen on him before, but it worked, particularly with the slim-fit light grey suit the young agent was sporting.

Greg assumed that Ahmad had clothing other than jeans and a leather jacket, but he had yet to see it. She leaned her head against the back of the chair, letting her long black braid hang down behind, the picture of languid grace. 

They all looked up as Greg stepped into the room. 

“Oh good,” Romer said, smirking. “Silver Fox made it after all.” 

Mycroft’s smile was warm but a little strained. “Gregory. I had hoped we would have time to eat before Romer and Ahmad got here, but—” 

Greg grimaced as he crossed the plush carpet. “Yeah, sorry, love. Got sidetracked by a new murder.” Greg quickly decided that he didn’t mind kissing Mycroft in front of the others. After all, they had both worked Mycroft’s security detail: it was nothing they hadn’t seen before. Still, he settled for a chaste kiss on the cheek before taking the chair beside Ahmad’s. “So, is this a group lunch?”

“No, Gregory,” Mycroft said, “we need to speak with you about a professional matter.”

 “Oh, no,” Greg groaned. “My latest vic was a spy?”

“No, no. Nothing to do with any of your cases. One of Ahmad’s assignments actually.” 

Greg looked at the woman with interest as she pulled herself up in her chair. 

“There is a very skilled assassin whom I have tracked for a number of years called the Bell Bird,” Ahmad said, cracking her knuckles. “She works for hire and is not affiliated with any government or organisation as far as I’ve been able to tell. She’s American, and her cover is that she is an opera singer.”

“It’s not just a cover,” Mycroft interjected. “She’s a virtuosic soprano. A sought-after recitalist who has recorded several albums that have sold very well.”

“Her career as a singer, legitimate though it may be,” Ahmad acknowledged, “has provided cover for her extralegal activities. She has a performance in a city, and while she’s there someone turns up dead. It’s never anyone who has a link to her, but we believe that she sometimes makes contact with her clients at her performances. I’ve been able to link her to ten murders in the five years I’ve been tracking her.” 

Greg’s jaw dropped. “Ten murders? And you haven’t brought her in?” 

“She has never worked in the United Kingdom,” Mycroft said. “And her activities have not… conflicted with our interests to this point.” 

“Yeah, but ten murders is ten murders!” 

“We are not international police, Gregory. I could no more arrest her for a murder that happened in Paris or Singapore than you could.” 

“Then why follow her?” 

“Because we want to know what someone like that is up to,” Romer put in from where he leaned against the desk, hands in the pockets of his trousers. 

“And because by following her, we now know that she is coming to the United Kingdom,” Mycroft said. “To London, in fact.” 

Greg’s eyes widened. “Why now?” 

“We don’t know, but we intend to find out.” Mycroft leaned forward over his desk. 

Greg looked between the three of them. “Are… you planning to have me investigate the murder she does here?” 

Romer snorted. “That’s a more reasonable guess than the actual plan.” 

“We don’t actually know if she’s planning a murder here.” Mycroft’s glare removed the smirk from Romer’s face. “The fact that she’s never worked here, despite being a native speaker of the language – well, the American version of the language – is notable. She does have singing engagements that seem to be unconnected to her murder-for-hire work, and it is entirely possible that she is coming for one of those.” 

The looks on Ahmad’s and Romer’s faces clearly showed what they thought of that possibility. 

“Next week she will be performing at an invite-only fundraiser for the arts education charity I support, and I have received an invitation,” Mycroft continued. “I shall be attending, and I would like you to accompany me, Gregory.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want to go hear a murderer sing? Isn’t that what you have this lot for?” Greg waved a hand at Romer and Ahmad. “And, I don’t know, all of your other field agents?” 

“Romer and Ahmad have both secured places on the catering staff for the event, and Wilkinson and Yang will at least be nearby as well,” Mycroft said, referring to the two agents who were currently on his security detail. “If the prospect alarms you, Gregory, I can attend alone—” 

“I’m not alarmed about me attending, Mycroft, I’m alarmed about you attending!” Greg turned to Romer. “How many people are trying to kill him?”

“More than you have clearance to know about,” the young man replied. 

“And you want to go cosy up to an international assassin?” Greg asked Mycroft.

“Don’t be dramatic, Gregory, there will be no ‘cosying up.’ I want to use an easy opportunity to see what the woman is up to, and who she meets there. By doing so, we may be able to prevent a murder. I was hoping that you would agree to join me to add your considerable observational skill to the operation, as well as to be on hand if something goes awry.” 

Romer jumped in before Greg could reply. “A role that – if you insist on attending – could easily be played by a trained field agent, sir.” 

“Yes, Romer,” Mycroft’s tone contained a hint of irritation, “but as we have discussed, I will be using no more than my standard cover for this event, as the invitation was issued to me. Gregory is my partner and I have no desire to complicate things by bringing another individual to an event we would be expected to attend as a couple.” 

“Sir, you were ‘married’ to Agent Forrester for a year in Bilbao,” Romer protested, doing the air quotes. 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never talked to you about that operation. Are they teaching that in training now?” He sighed at Romer’s nod. “Christ, I feel old.” He shook his head. “Regardless, the fact that a female colleague and I posed as a married couple during an extended overseas operation a number of years ago has no bearing on this situation. Mycroft Holmes of the Department for Transport received an invitation to attend with a guest and I shall be attending. I fail to understand why you are trying to overcomplicate this, Romer.” 

“And I fail to understand why you two,” Greg levelled looks at Ahmad and Romer, “aren’t kicking up more of a fuss about him attending at all.” 

“She doesn’t kill at her performances,” Ahmad said simply. “It would ruin her excellent cover. It’s much more likely that she’s going to make contact with her client there. The odds are quite high that Mr. Holmes will be perfectly safe, and they only improve if you’re aware of the situation and are on your toes and maybe armed. Romer’s just being stroppy because he never got over the situation with the Russians, and Mr. Holmes sending him to the Continent for four months didn’t help like it was intended to.” 

“Oi!” Romer protested.  

Plus,” Ahmad ignored Romer and looked Mycroft right in the eye, “the boss has been behind that desk since Syria, and he gets tetchy when it’s been this long since his last op.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Get out, both of you. Romer, I want the revision of your Oslo report in an hour. Ahmad, I’m sure you have something to do that does not involve insubordination and antagonising your colleagues.” 

Both agents gave a “yes, sir,” before leaving. 

“Syria,” Greg said quietly, once the door had shut behind them. Mycroft’s face became immediately inscrutable. “You’ve never said where…” Greg trailed off, waited for some kind of reaction or response, but Mycroft just watched him in silence. It had been eighteen months since Mycroft had been taken hostage. Eighteen months since he had been beaten, choked, and forced to watch his team be hurt. They only talked about it in the most abstract terms, and usually only after Mycroft woke screaming from nightmares, when Greg would hold him and stroke his hair and his back until the shaking stopped. 

Greg cleared his throat. “Was she not supposed to say that? Is my clearance not high enough to know where you were?” 

It was a strange thing, seeing emotion return to his partner’s face. Fatigue, sadness, a little fear. “It is now,” Mycroft murmured, looking away from him, “since I had it raised last year. I can’t give you details but the location is permitted. I just…” 

Greg stood and rounded the desk, half perching beside Mycroft and cupping his cheek in his hand, turning his face up. “It’s alright, darling. We don’t need to talk about it.” Greg leaned down for a kiss, warm and gentle. 

When they broke apart Mycroft smiled up at him and squeezed his thigh. “Thank you, Gregory,” he whispered. 

Greg kissed his forehead again before sitting back with a slightly mischievous smile. “So you’ve been tetchy with the kids lately?” 

Mycroft snorted in surprised amusement, but then sighed. “I suppose I get a bit… nitpicky. When I haven’t been directly involved in an operation for a while.” He rubbed his forehead. “A slight tendency towards more criticism than is strictly necessary with my subordinates.”

“You? Nitpicky? I can’t even imagine!” Greg grinned. 

Mycroft shot him a slightly sour look. “Be that as it may, while it is certainly possible to do my job in a purely supervisory capacity, and that is how my predecessor did it, I believe a more hands-on approach leads to better results. And it keeps me from going mad.” 

Greg bit his lower lip and chuckled. “Alright, so to maintain your sanity and to keep your agents from finding other employment, we’re going to spy on an international assassin who is singing a charity concert?” 

Mycroft paused to consider for a moment. “That’s about the shape of it, yes.”  

“When’s this happening? Do I get any spy training first?” 

“The concert is next week and no, you don’t need any special training beyond your already considerable detective skills. As Ahmad said, we just want you to be aware of the situation and on your guard. The spying, as it were, is well in hand.” 

“So I’ll get to observe you in the field? One of the best?” 

Mycroft raised one eyebrow. “There is no ‘one of,’ Gregory.”

“Hah!” Greg laughed. “Not bothering with modesty today, darling?” 

Mycroft smirked. “There is little less attractive than false modesty, my love.” 

Greg snorted and shook his head. “Ridiculous how hot I find it when you’re being an arrogant twit.” He leaned in for another kiss, this one neither chaste nor gentle. 

~*~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, I appreciate if you let me know!

Chapter 2 is up now.

[the-lady-writes-what]

A very long time ago, I received a lovely DM from @marziemoo when they asked about what are some recommendations for wlw/sapphic books about or written by authors of color. I apologize that it has taken me so long.

Allow me first to give some caveats:

I am very, very, very white. I am NOT a person of color. Please take my opinion with a grain of salt.

I take FOREVER to read books so, the ones I have read is small list but I have included ones that I researched and ones that have been on my To Read List for a while.

I tend to read mostly fantasy, so this list will comprise mostly of fantasy because that is what I read. I'll try to diversify with other genres. Everything except "The Jasmine Throne" I have not yet read.

Tasha Suri is a South Asian author whose work "The Jasmine Throne" depicts the story of an imprisoned princess and a priestess who hides from her past. It's passionate and powerful.

Warning: this book does depict or implicate harsher subjects and themes such as sexism, human sacrifice, and contains violence.

Kalynn Bayron, a black author. "Cinderella is Dead" tells the story of Sophia, who is forced with other girls to be forced into marriage two hundred years after Cinderella and her tale died. Sophia is joined with Constance, the last descendent of Cinderella and her step-sisters, to bring down the king. I haven't read this one yet, but it sits on my giant pile of To Read stack

This book by Leah Johnson tells the story of Liz Lighty, a midwest black girl. She's hoping to find financial aid so she can attend the college of her dreams. In order to do that, she has to become prom queen. Along comes Mack, the new girl, who is also vying for the prom queen crown. Sounds like rivals-to-lovers to me? I don't really read contemporary fiction, but the story premise is cute.

In Chinelo Okparanta's book, Ijeoma grows up as her nation gains independence and by the time she's 11, civil war breaks out. Ijeoma is sent away to safety where she comes across another displaced child. Friendship blooms and becomes a star-crossed romance. Again, I don't read a lot of contemporary fiction, but I might had this one to my reading list myself.

With the world's survival at stake, two teenagers are selected to journey to the Fairy Queen to fix it. Kaede and Taisin are drawn together during the mission. As members of their party succumb to unearthly attacks and fairy tricks, the two come to rely on each other and even begin to fall in love. This is a prequel to Malinda Lo's series, Ash.

Originally published in 1995, LarissaLai weaves a story in and out of medieval China to contemporary Vancouver. The book follows a thousand year old fox spirit, a 9th century Taoist poet and nun, and a young Asian-American named Artemis.

Makeda Hicks just lost her job and girlfriend in one fell swoop. She doesn't want to hear stories from her grandmother about her whirlwind affairs with royals and agents. So when Beznaria Chetchevaliere crashes into her life, Makeda can't resist. Only one bed and fake marriage hijinks insues!

Lei, in Natasha Ngan's book, Girls of Paper and Fire, lives with her father years after her mother is taken by the royal guards and disappeared. Now, they've come for Lei, whose rumored beauty has intrigued the king. Lei enters the opulent yet oppressive palace to train with eight other young women to please the king. A forbidden romance begins with Lei and she begins to question how far she would go for revenge.

In Tehlor Kay Mejia's premiere novel, 'We Set the Dark on Fire,' writes a compelling story that mirrors real world issues of immigration and equality. Daniela Vargas is the top student at Medio School for Girls. As a top student, upon graduation her paths are limited, run a husband's household or raise his children. Will Daniela chose the life of privilege her parents fought for or will she join the resistance to bring true freedom to Medio, and perhaps forbidden love?

Seventeen year old Lil and her twin sister, Kizzy are captured and taken away from their traveler community. Forced to work in the kitchens, Lil is drawn to another slave, Mira. Lil and the others discover and fight for a fate of their own making. (Through some research, I discovered that the author, Kiran Millwood Hargrave, is of Indian descent through her mother and lives in Oxford.)

Yetu remembers everything. She remembers the people who came before her, the pregnant African women thrown overboard by their enslavers. In order to escape this burden and the memories, Yetu travels to the surface to discover her past and a future for her people.

Manuela Azul lives a confined life in a small Florida apartment hiding from both her father's crime family in Argentina and ICE. On the run, she discovers a world within our own and one which Manuela discovers something about herself that could rock her world.

This Hugo award-winning novel by S.L. Huang, is a retelling of the Western fairy tale classic, Little Red Riding Hood. Only this time, Red Riding Hood is done with wolves and forests. Combing fairy tale nostalgia and Chinese folklore, the main characters, Rosa, Red Riding Hood, and Hou Yi the Archer join forces and set forth on a quest to stop the deadly sunbirds from destroying everything they hold dear.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

By Sharon Brous

Rabbi Brous is the founding and senior rabbi of Ikar, a Jewish community based in Los Angeles, and the author of “The Amen Effect.”

A somewhat obscure text, about 2,000 years old, has been my unlikely teacher and guide for the past many years, and my north star these last several months, as so many of us have felt as if we’ve been drowning in an ocean of sorrow and helplessness.

Buried deep within the Mishnah, a Jewish legal compendium from around the third century, is an ancient practice reflecting a deep understanding of the human psyche and spirit: When your heart is broken, when the specter of death visits your family, when you feel lost and alone and inclined to retreat, you show up. You entrust your pain to the community.

The text, Middot 2:2, describes a pilgrimage ritual from the time of the Second Temple. Several times each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews would ascend to Jerusalem, the center of Jewish religious and political life. They would climb the steps of the Temple Mount and enter its enormous plaza, turning to the right en masse, circling counterclockwise.

Meanwhile, the brokenhearted, the mourners (and here I would also include the lonely and the sick), would make this same ritual walk but they would turn to the left and circle in the opposite direction: every step against the current.

And each person who encountered someone in pain would look into that person’s eyes and inquire: “What happened to you? Why does your heart ache?”

“My father died,” a person might say. “There are so many things I never got to say to him.” Or perhaps: “My partner left. I was completely blindsided.” Or: “My child is sick. We’re awaiting the test results.”

Those who walked from the right would offer a blessing: “May the Holy One comfort you,” they would say. “You are not alone.” And then they would continue to walk until the next person approached.

This timeless wisdom speaks to what it means to be human in a world of pain. This year, you walk the path of the anguished. Perhaps next year, it will be me. I hold your broken heart knowing that one day you will hold mine.

I read in this text many profound lessons, two particularly pertinent in our time, when so many of us feel that we are breaking. First, do not take your broken heart and go home. Don’t isolate. Step toward those whom you know will hold you tenderly.

And on your good days — the days when you can breathe — show up then, too. Because the very fact of seeing those who are walking against the current, people who can barely hold on, and asking, with an open heart, “Tell me about your sorrow,” may be the deepest affirmation of our humanity, even in terribly inhumane times.

It is an expression of both love and sacred responsibility to turn to another person in her moment of deepest anguish and say: “Your sorrow may scare me, it may unsettle me. But I will not abandon you. I will meet your grief with relentless love.”

We cannot magically fix one another’s broken hearts. But we can find each other in our most vulnerable moments and wrap each other up in a circle of care. We can humbly promise each other, “I can’t take your pain away, but I can promise you won’t have to hold it alone.”

Showing up for one another doesn’t require heroic gestures. It means training ourselves to approach, even when our instinct tells us to withdraw. It means picking up the phone and calling our friend or colleague who is suffering. It means going to the funeral and to the house of mourning. It also means going to the wedding and to the birthday dinner. Reach out in your strength, step forward in your vulnerability. Err on the side of presence.

Small, tender gestures remind us that we are not helpless, even in the face of grave human suffering. We maintain the ability, even in the dark of night, to find our way to one another. We need this, especially now.

Here’s the second lesson from that ancient text. Humans naturally incline toward the known. Our tribes can uplift us, order our lives, give them meaning and purpose, direction and pride. But the tribal instinct can also be perilous. The more closely we identify with our tribe, the more likely we are to dismiss or even feel hostility toward those outside it.

One of the great casualties of tribalism is curiosity. And when we are no longer curious, when we don’t try to imagine or understand what another person is thinking or feeling or where her pain comes from, our hearts begin to narrow. We become less compassionate and more entrenched in our own worldviews.

Trauma exacerbates this trend. It reinforces an instinct to turn away from one another, rather than make ourselves even more vulnerable.

There is another important lesson from that ancient text. On pilgrimage, those who enter the sacred circle and turn left when nearly everyone else turns right are grieving or unwell. But the text offers that there is another who turns to the left: the person sentenced to ostracization — in Hebrew, the menudeh.

Ostracization was a punishment used sparingly in ancient times. It only applied to people who were believed to have brought serious harm to the social fabric of the community. The ostracized were essentially temporarily excommunicated. They had to distance themselves from their colleagues and loved ones, they were not counted in a prayer quorum, and they were prohibited from engaging in most social interactions. And incredibly, they, too, entered the sacred space, where they, too, were asked: “Tell me, what happened to you? What’s your story?” And they, too, were blessed.

This is breathtaking. The ancient rabbis ask us to imagine a society in which no person is disposable. Even those who have hurt us, even those with views antithetical to ours must be seen in their humanity and held with curiosity and care.

We desperately need a spiritual rewiring in our time. Imagine a society in which we learn to see one another in our pain, to ask one another, “What happened to you?” Imagine that we hear one another’s stories, say amen to one another’s pain, and even pray for one another’s healing. I call this the amen effect: sincere, tender encounters that help us forge new spiritual and neural pathways by reminding us that our lives and our destinies are entwined. Because, ultimately, it is only by finding our way to one another that we will begin to heal.