#ABOUT UNFAIR EMPIRES.

[demonstars]

and I specifically feel very deeply evil about inca civilization because if white men get to talk about the literal roman empire as if it was wonderful and amazing I should get to talk about the inca empire without being told They enslaved their neighbors they were Evil

[etoilesombre]

mmmm… way too many people in that poll thinking that if flint is alive then it's a happy ending 💀

There are no possible happy endings, they are precluded by history. It's bigger than them. People apparently don't like tragedy though.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

Ok but what if another turning point for the world power dynamic was the Suez Crisis of 1956. France and England were adamant that they control the canal while the US and USSR were (surprisingly) collaborative in their demand for a cease-fire in the region. I can just imagine Alfred storming into a meeting room with a storm in his eyes yelling at these two raggedy fucks to quit their dumb-ass behaviour. Giving them an eloquent lecture in front of the world. The room full of nations, still recovering from all the events of recent years, going quiet while both Arthur and Francois (for probably not the first time) start reevaluating their roles in the evolving global landscape.

Arthur would likely have felt a mix of anger, embarrassment, and surprise. He had grown accustomed to being an influential world power, and being confronted so forcefully by Alfred, especially as his son, would have challenged his sense of authority and superiority. Despite his pride, Arthur would also have acknowledged a sense of resignation, knowing deep down that the world was changing and that his empire's dominance was waning.

Arthur has a complex relationship with his children, and Alfred holds a special place in his heart as his favorite child (I'm sorry but it's true). He might recognize Alfred's achievements as a reflection of his own influence and guidance, feeling a slight mixture of satisfaction and pride in seeing his protege step into a position of power. Seeing the United States, a former colony, rise to prominence and challenge the established powers could evoke a sense of pride in Arthur as he recognizes the legacy of British influence and ideals that have shaped the nation.

Arthur does recognize the accomplishments of his "wayward son" to a degree. (what a loser)

Francois would definitely feel anger. Even stronger than Arthur, I think. The failure and backlash of the crisis would have strongly wounded his pride. He would display a certain stubbornness and reluctance to accept the changing dynamics of power, more so than Arthur. His pride and desire to assert France's influence might have led him to defend his nation's actions during the Suez Crisis, even in the face of mounting criticism and geopolitical realities. (huge loser)

The Suez Crisis, a focal point of tension, becoming a catalyst for transformation, shaping the dynamics of power and diplomacy for generations to come. In that meeting room, the world witnessed the birth of a new era, where old empires bowed to the demands of a changing world.

[lesbianpegbar]

kinda crazy that right as the us military talk on here blew up my friends brought it up and told me it was unfair of me to generalize and say that all soldiers and veterans are bad and that there’s so much tragedy to veterans. i could tell they were just getting pissed at me for pushing back like bro idk how to tell you i don’t care how bad their life is or how much propaganda was pumped into their brain you’re literally maintaining the us empire and killing black and brown people i don’t think this is “just the government.” fuck off with the sympathy for colonizers

[ravencromwell]

I feel like this Chris Hayes primer on one Itamar Ben-Gvir is a necessary coda to this article's larger point about just what sorts of vile fringe Netanyahu either agrees with, or is willing to climb in metaphorical bed with anyway.

“But this isn’t just about people’s views on Israel. It’s about their views of Biden. He risks being seen here as not his own man. An old Bill Clinton quote has been kicking around in the media in recent weeks: After his first meeting in 1996 with an arrogant Netanyahu, Clinton asked his aides, “Who’s the fucking superpower here?” Netanyahu has only grown more arrogant over the years, which is astonishing. Consider: He’s extremely unpopular in Israel. He’s running a hard-right government that was the target of massive demonstrations since the time it was formed. He’s holding onto his office—and thus prolonging the war—to stay out of jail. His government and military let October 7 unfold for hours with no response. Beyond that, he’s been fine with Hamas running Gaza and letting Qatar finance that for years. And on top of all that, between now and November, he’s going to be playing a game of chicken with Biden. Cut me off, he’ll taunt, and I’ll be more open about my presidential preference (which, obviously, is Donald Trump).”

— Is Biden Really Going to Let Netanyahu Lose Him the Election?

[vaultsixtynine]

zari finding out about slavery for the first time was like. cognitive dissonance x10000000000

[emrystheedgedancer]

I’ve never quite understood the criticism for Mistborn that Vin is a “not like other girls” girl.

When literally her entire character arc is that she eventually learns that she can embrace her femininity in her own way and that it’s okay to be “like other girls” when she wants to be.

Even if she starts out a “not like other girls” girl (which I don’t really think she qualifies as in the first place), that’s the whole point.

I think Brandon Sanderson did an excellent job of dealing with the struggle that a lot of women face. Do I take on “masculine” traits because that is what gets me the outcome I desire? Do I embrace my femininity even if it earns me the scorn of my peers? Can I do both? Can I be a feminine woman who also is a leader?

Vin grapples with these questions through the whole series. That final ball scene in Hero of Ages was her really understanding that she is perfectly okay with being the warrior who also likes balls and dresses and that she doesn’t need to be one or the other to be herself.

Idk about the rest of you but I think that is a MASSIVELY important message for women to read.

So whenever I run across a BookTok girl talking about how they only read Mistborn and didn’t like how Vin was written I can’t help but think that by not finishing the series you didn’t understand that that was the whole point. It is unfair to judge how Vin fits into a feminist lens if you only read The Final Empire.

Her arc across the three books is SO important to me and it just doesn’t at all fit the typical “not like other girls” character.

[scribblestatic]

So, like, if you've read SVSSS far enough, you know about the Bingmei vs Bingge part. And there's all sorts of stories with Bingge (basically a PIDW Binghe, not SVSSS Binghe) finding his own shizun in various ways.

Well, what about if he manages to summon a Shen Yuan, but his soul is in Shen Jiu's body? Which, like, wouldn't really be a problem, except he's already been torturing Shen Jiu for a good while now and he's down an eye and all of his limbs are mostly stubs at this point. Thankfully he still has his tongue and penis, which, after so often demanding Shen Jiu be castrated, he's pretty jazzed that didn't happen.

Shen Yuan, being the absolute freak he is, probably wouldn't mind too much. After all, he'd read this part of the story and cheered it on. Just cause he's now experiencing it himself, doesn't mean the revenge was any less cathartic.

Though, well, the dreams he has about what Shen Jiu went through does dampen his enjoyment of his suffering (so many lives lost that he can do nothing about, so much torment that just cycled on because no one thought to seek help, because the world was built so firmly on cruelty)...

And perhaps he'd woken up sobbing at times, crying his apologies to Binghe as though he was the one who had done all those terrible things to him, but he didn't, but those dreams were so vivid and felt so real

The girls at the Warm Red Pavilion, were they okay? Shen Jiu never had sex with them, only kept company to avoid the boys when he couldn't sleep and trained them in the four arts and gathered information from them, gods, he'd misunderstood Shen Jiu and thought him a remorseless villain and enemy to women

Liu Qingge, fuck--

At least now he can help Binghe actually enjoy his life and perhaps stop the cycle of abuse from continuing. Besides, cool motive, Shen Jiu, still child torment. And though the results were quite drastic, it was the dog-eat-dog world of xianxia China, and life was generally unfair. No reason to make Binghe's life needlessly unfair on top of everything.

But yeah! Now that he's in Shen Jiu's body, he and Luo Binghe get to talk, and Binghe, for the first time in his life, experiences regret for his actions, because now his lovely new kind shizun can't card his fingers through his hair or twist little braids into it. Moreover, Shen Yuan somewhat mourns over the fact Binghe's hair is straightened--he loved reading about his bouncy curls.

So now, imagining that, after time, Shen Yuan becomes a more prominent figure in the empire, especially post-marriage. He has a lovely eyepatch and wears soft red, black, and gold clothes, heavy on the red and gold. This nearly limbless man helps Luo Binghe do his taxes and works out various tips on using beasts to the benefit of the empire and remembering small notes about other races that allows the Demon Emperor to be both magnanimous and fierce in whomever's eyes he meets.

Others can't decide if Shen Qingqiu's mind was utterly broken, if he was cursed to act against his own will, or if he was possessed by some strange spirit. Regardless, the realms have never been in such peace before now.

Moreover, Luo Binghe has started changing.

While he can never regain the height lost to a childhood full of suffering and a lack of nutrients, he can change in other ways. He actually eats healthier because Shen Yuan insists on having him eat as well. He steadily stops straightening his hair, letting his curls return until they're like clouds. His muscles grow in firmer and his chest broadens.

Also, as he and his kind shizun speak further, even though he explores the worst parts of himself and uncovers those dirty, evil deeds and the ways they truly hurt him, Xin Mo doesn't get the chance to latch onto them anymore. As painful as discussing those things are...releasing them is exceptionally freeing. So, a sense of inner strength and ease he never had before starts to settle in his body, and his qi, usually constantly battling, stabilizes more than before, his heart demons no longer so adamant or strong.

As a side-effect of both parts, he was already handsome, but now, he's even more so. A wise, secure man no longer so strongly gripped by hatred, lust, or greed. Someone unforgivable to many, but becoming okay with forgiving himself.

Indeed, what a man!

Which is kinda a shame for Luo Binghe's many wives, because he's been heavily trimming down on his harem. Political marriages are substituted for other exchanges, fervent troublemakers are sent back to their homes (the ones who dared to attack his A'Yuan are never heard from again, strangely), and wives who simply ask for divorce are granted them, receiving a hefty gift for at least being loyal whilst married.

So, previously, a harem once numbering into the hundreds falls to the tens, and the remaining ones are either ambivalent or antsy.

Then, as though to answer everyone's burgeoning questions, he names Shen Yuan his empress during a meeting and proclaims that they will make preparations for his crowning ceremony.

I feel like that'd really set off what remained of Cian Qiong Mountain Sect.

Hmm... I think I'll talk more about this later.

---

Part 1: here Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[codenamesazanka]

the thing is. Shigaraki dies with literally like three people left in the world to mourn him. Shigaraki dies without a body and a proper funeral or burial. Shigaraki dies leaving nothing - no possessions, no photographs, nothing but last words to his friend that must be given by his killer.

Yeah, Shigaraki killed people, but I just feel like. Those people still have a number of family and friends to mourn them. Those people likely left behind something to remember them by. Shigaraki has barely anything like that, largely because a villain (that no Hero saved him from) made sure of that, and the sheer unfairness of that hurts.

Shigaraki dies because the guy who said he wanted to save him (his inner child) directly contributes to his death - his supposed savior is also his killer. Because in a hero-saturated society, no one noticed a missing Shimura Tenko for 15 fucking years. All Might takes down organized crime and AFO's empire and never knew AFO's cultivated children existed.

Shigaraki dies because Deku, the Hero who says he wants to try "saving" Shigaraki/The Crying Child, tells at most 3 living people (Uraraka - "I can't ignore what I saw"; implied to have told Gran Torino his plan, to which Gran says 'killing is salvation'; maybe All Might, but we never see even a hint of this), and no one else. Plans with no one else. Stays silent when Gran advises him to kill Shigaraki, when Heroes draw up plans for a SKY COFFIN DEATH ARENA, when Heroes strategize about how AFO is a better opponent to face, implying the possession victim should stay possessed.

Deku talks about not ignoring the Crying Child inside of Shigaraki, wanting to save that Crying Little Boy, but then you realize he never even approaches the idea of saving Shigaraki from AFO's fucking possession. Never tries to save Shigaraki from AFO, the immediate priority - only saving Shigaraki from his own self-loathing, essentially putting the blame on Shigaraki himself. At best maybe saving the Crying Child has the vague, inherent idea of freeing Shigaraki from the possession, but in the end, it's really Shigaraki who breaks free of it on his own, with help from his League.

Shigaraki dies, and Deku now gets sympathy for feeling guilt about killing him, because isn't that so gracious of him? For thinking about his dangerous, deranged enemy? For promising not to forget the guy he half-heartedly claimed to want to save, and then only half-succeeded? For acknowledging his own failure? The greatest Hero.

Shigaraki dies in such an unjust way. But we're supposed to applaud Deku for his efforts in contributing to this death.

*as always, substitute how much blame you want to give Horikoshi for writing Deku so badly in Act 3, though imo Deku's been a shithead since Chapter 1

[whereserpentswalk]

Fae do not have a concept of good and evil. But they do have a concept of fair and unfair. They are creatures of politeness and impolitness. Even when they're doing things that would be horrifying to humans, they do these things with a specific set of rules around them.

Most of their weaknesses are only weaknesses because they see them as making things fair. Fae are physically capable of lying, but they consider it cheating to lie to someone who isn't familiar with the fae. Likewise, fae can create unbreakable curses or unsolvable puzzles, but it's considered improper to do so. Even their material weakness works this way, if a fae is cut by an iron sword they'll but hurt by it because it was the polite thing to do.

They'll also always match the power level of any human who wanders into the fae realms, so the human in question never meets a challenge they can't overcome. When a knight of the Holy Roman Empire and his men tried to conquer part of the fae realms in 1126 the fae fought like medieval soldiers, using tactics and strategies that would be clever and strange but understandable to him and his men, the numbers of warriors never being too much for him to defeat, even when he could. And when the D.T.L paranormal containment organization sent in modern soldiers with firearms and gas masks to assassinate the fae Queen of Winter Dawn in 2004, the fae responded accordingly, with ranged weapons, and hit and run tactics, that a modern commander could play off of. And, in 1873, when three children got lost in the fae realms, deeper then any human who had been lost there before or after, the fae filled their path of peril with puzzles and traps that the children could solve. One of the children ended up having her eyes turned into spiders, and all of them were traumatized, but it's the fairness the counts to the fae. When you're billions of years old you just care about different things.

And of course. There are some fae that break the rules, fae who will truly do everything in their power to affect the world. These fae are useally exiled from the fae realms, to far off and desolate planes, where they wander and seek power. They are truly terrifying creatures, though in the places they are sent they can rarely use their power. Few who encounter them who aren't their loyal servents escape with both their lives and their humanity.

And of course, fae politeness isn't universal. It applies to humans, and to other fae, and to some other entities. But when there's a true threat to the existence of the fae they will use everything in their power to stop it, polite or impolite. When the star spawn and the great old ones attempted their invasion of the fae in 700MYA they were very promptly destroyed, and pushed back using horrors humanity can't comprehend, horrors the star spawn could barely comprehend. And when the demons on the 8th abyss attempted their invasion in 10MYA they were given almost an equal horror, spared only from pure destruction because they fae found such creatures to be useful.

[generalsdiary]

my roman empire is us (the trailblazer) meeting ratio and him greeting us with "oh it's you, I remember you", and the realization hitting we have not seen him, as the mc, since the bug and cat cakes event. and to him we are just that. my mind went immediately to;

"you were a wonderful experience"

"you were everything"

because we ratio defenders, analysis writers, we explain him, defend him, research him, love him, we go ON AND ON about him and, I was so excited when I saw him standing in penacony near the current divergent universe, and to be met with such a reality check truly broke my heart. veritas ratio you are everything, even when we are, in game and out of the game, just perceived as a mere fan, enthusiast. but I would mention, that it is refreshing to be perceived and talked to like a normal person from a scientist and a genius when EVERY genius so far has treated us like an experiment, and a need to explore our bodies and use us- to the point of poisoning us. it is so in his character at the end of the day, to do, the bare fucking minimum btw, and treat us as a human being. hopefully, we get more of him, a companionship mission or something, because it is unfair that a character as great as him is kept away from us, we are left to live on crumbs, moreover left to live on dust when it comes to our canonical interactions in game.

they could never make me hate you, Veritas.

[wlntrsldler]

blurb based on this post.

pre-claiming, pre-betrayal, luke castellan x poseidon!reader, fluff.

while i bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief.

“rumor has it, capture the flag is coming up,” luke said. he was ripping blades of grass from beside him as his head laid on your stomach. he was facing the blue sky, letting the droplets of water roll off his bare skin.

you’d just emerged from your impromptu dip in the lake to escape the growing heat of summer. you had his camp shirt on top of your body, finding the faint scent of his cologne on the neckline of the shirt comforting. “already? they’re really trying to get us at each other’s throats as soon as possible.”

“yeah,” he scoffed. he rolled his head to face you. “it’s beth’s turn to come up with a strategy.”

there was pride in his eyes, like there always was when he talked about annabeth. you wondered if you had the same sparkle when you talked about her too. it was hard not to be proud of annabeth. after all, you’d known her since she was seven, when you, luke, and thalia found her wandering alone.

you tried not to think of those days too much. those days were painful and lonely; unfair that children were left to fend for themselves. even though you and luke were the oldest of the bunch, you were still just fourteen. at fourteen, you should’ve been dreading the perils of freshman year of high school, not wondering if you’d be fortunate enough to reach sixteen.

“how’s percy holding up?” you asked. your fingers tugged on a strand of hair that was bouncing back into his usual curls. you felt luke soften at your touch.

“he’s doing okay,” luke answered after a beat. “as well as anyone would be after finding out.”

“he’s a tough one, i can tell,” you replied. you attempted to move your hand from luke’s hair, but he held it in place. you complied, starting to rub his scalp. “has he been claimed yet?”

“no, he hasn’t.”

the topic of being claimed was a touchy subject for you as an unclaimed child. the first few months at camp, you had your hopes that your time was coming soon. your godly parent had to claim you eventually, right? but as the months turned into a year and a year turned into five, you lost all hope. somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you made peace with it.

luke, on the other hand, never did. there were many things he hated about the gods. most of it were general things that made sense; neglecting their children, having them do their dirty work, making them go on dangerous quests where they’re likely to get killed; but the thing that he hated them for the most was that they made you feel unworthy of being acknowledged.

to everyone else at camp, they saw you as someone who beat the odds despite not knowing who your godly parent was. you became a skilled swordsman, coming second only to luke, skilled at archery, and such an incredible leader, but luke didn’t attribute that to your godly parent. he attributed that to your character. your greatness had nothing to do with the gods.

but luke also knew you better than anyone else. he knew that even though you acted like you didn’t care about being claimed, there was still a part of you that stayed fourteen, that stayed hopeful, that one day your parent would claim you.

luke let his lips linger on your hipbone, a reminder that he was still there, as if trying to convince you that while your parent didn’t care enough to claim you, he did. he would shout it from every rooftop, if he could. in fact, on the trip to olympus, he stood at the top of the empire state building and declared his love for you.

chiron, who was forced to discipline him for his antics, banned him for getting dessert for two weeks, but sent you a sly wink as he was telling luke his punishment. you didn’t comment about how you managed to be given two desserts ‘accidentally’ everyday during luke’s punishment.

“we should probably head back soon,” you mumbled, though you made no effort to get up. luke snuggled deeper into you from where he laid. “it’s almost dinner.”

“yeah,” luke sighed. “you’re probably right.”

neither of you made it to dinner, but grover managed to sneak the both of you a handful of strawberries to eat.

[felis-rach]

This world needs more bowsareach! So here's a little something I wrote for them! (It was part of a bigger fic I didn't finish, but it doesn't need context)

Mario was starting to think that all the “hero” thing made him forgot how to deal with mundane challenges.

He realized that when he saw himself using the cat-bell to climb up the wall and get a book from the top of the shelf. And when he tried to explain the claw marks to Peach, saying, “but what ELSE could I have done?” Her answer was silently pointing to a chair.

Bowser thought this was all hilarious, of course. And Mario had to remind him of who breathed fire into the oven when it wouldn’t turn on. And the reason they had to eat microwaved food for a week.

It was just a simple memory of some random day, but it made Mario feel so nostalgic. Their little home, hidden in a hill on the edge of the kingdom and accessible through a warp pipe they built, was no less than a dream come true.

After all, dating two monarchs meant that the three of them couldn’t simply rent an apartment together. Peach had to stay at her castle, and Bowser, at his, and when they eventually arranged the marriage that would unite the two kingdoms, it would be time to live together and Mario would come along.

But for now, the three of them settled in getting a little house to be the place they could run away to when Peach and Bowser got a moment of peace. It was great, especially when they managed to spend a whole weekend there.

Mario had the time of his life watching The Royals get used to the cottage. Peach, as a regent who always placed herself at the same level of her people and hated to be perceived as superior, gave her best to act naturally, so Mario tried to hide his laughter when they sat down to eat and her face just read “Oh, indeed, this table has but four chairs and doesn’t occupy the whole room.” He could see her dying inside a bit when all the plates and cups got too cramped up.

Bowser, on the other hand, being made of ego as he was, absolutely made sure he was seen as superior by his subjects (which never prevented him from being a caring ruler, going personally to a civilian’s house if they had any trouble, and screw his schedule). So he didn’t even pretend to be comfortable there. It was such an ordeal to prevent him from turning the house into a second palace. The most that Mario and Peach gave in was to make a living room big enough to fit a grand piano. Even so, he complained at every possible time about the house’s size.

“Pff. The fifty-second heir to the mighty koopa empire, living on an ant’s house like this… Of course, we left it to Mario to lead the project. He measured the house based on his own size.”

And Mario simply answered by sitting on the table in front of him. “Truly, I am so very small.” He placed Bowser’s hand on his back. “Look, I even fit on this huge and scary koopa’s hand. Oh, my stars! I sure do hope he doesn’t take advantage of all this size to grab me and kidnap me to some dark castle. Poor me!”

His voice was casually innocent, and Bowser’s face was on fire since he was still a mess whenever Mario and Peach gave him attention like that (and the two of them abused the heck out of it).

“Don’t you tempt me, plumber.” Bowser warned, holding his breath.

“Your hand is still around me.”

“…”

“Oh, no! That terrible monster is kidnapping my Mario!” Peach entered the room, and Mario fondly smiled with the “my”, dumb as their playing was. “Will I have to rescue him? But what if he kidnaps me, too?” She threw herself at Bowser with a hand dramatically at her forehead.

“STOP THAT!” Bowser jumped out of the chair, like Mario and Peach were contagious. “You two, you’re… you’re unfair, that’s what you are!”

“Weeeeeee?” They got closer, blinking innocently at the koopa, who got all the more red.

“…Dddddon’t you blame me when I actually kidnap you.” He turned to leave, visibly wanting to die in some corner and regain his dignity before he could even think about flirting back. And hit the doorframe with his shoulder. “STUPID small house! That’s YOUR fault, Mario!” They heard, as he ran to the room. And just laughed together.

“I definitely won’t mind if he goes through with this threat.” Mario smirked. “What about you, Peaches?”

“Not at all.” She agreed, before placing herself in front of her boyfriend, pinning him to the table with both arms. “Just beware, or I might take you first, sweetie.”

And she kissed his nose. Yeah, he’d definitely not mind that too.

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆RETRIBUTION CH: 5

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Gore, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au. Pseudo Incest on Choso’s Case. Confusing Bullshit. Sexual themes, Biological Incest. Unedited.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Jjk x Isekai’d! Goddess! Reader

⋆♱⋆LOVE INTERESTS Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen

⋆♱⋆NOTE Also posted in wattpad & quotev. Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆PREVIOUS CHAPTER

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

A GUST OF WIND whispered past you, its delicate fingers tracing a chill across your [S/c] skin, and a sigh escapes your lips, dark lashes fluttering shut.

You clutched at the shredded fabric of your gown, the pads of your fingers tracing the crushed remnants of the necklace nestled in your décolletage.

Though the chains had withstood the violence that had befallen on you, the jewel at its center now lay in glittering shards pressed against your heaving bosom.

How it was still intact after you almost drowned remained a mystery, however.

The shrill serenade of crickets hidden amongst the swaying grass reverberated on your ears, along with the soft yet loud pulsing within your chest and your ragged breaths clawing their way past your lips.

You opened your eyes and you peered into the inky shadows cloaking the forest, watching as the undulating branches danced and writhed in the pale moonlight.

The moon shone like polished pewter hanging heavy in the night sky, its pale glow casting the place in shades of silver. You sat on top of a rock with your elbows placed on your bent thighs, cupping your chin in weary palms as you gazed upward, drinking in the silvery glow of the moon that spilled across the darkened earth.

Moments like this brought bittersweet memories flooding back.

You recalled stolen nights with Ataraxia—Sneaking away from the empire and going down to Shaxilu to stargaze.

You missed how her silken hair would flow over your skin as you cradled each other, chatting and chuckling while naming constellations with breathy whispers

In those past evenings, Ataraxia would lay her head in your lap, finger-painting stories in the glittering sky as you watched, transfixed not by the heavenly wonders but the terrestrial beauty that you would always see in her eyes.

She was lost staring at the stars above...while You’re lost staring at the stars that you would see in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged your fingers through your hair, just wanting to go back to her, just wanting to feel her lips on yours, feel her touch.

But then, how could you return there, when you’re stuck here on earth?

You find yourself trapped in a realm of ambiguity.

How are you supposed to go back to nebula?

It dawns on you that you are forbidden from returning to the celestial sanctuary of the nebula, after all.

You were Exiled.

A surge of frustration erupts within you, and a groan bubbles up your throat.

Why the fuck did you have to get such a cruel father? It was so unfair, so, so, so unfair.

While others may envy your lineage—for having the creator of the universe as your father, for you, it is a harrowing nightmare from which you cannot awaken.

To them, aionarch may be a deity to worship, a deity to fear and respect, but to you, he is a tyrant to despise.

The loathing you nurture towards aionarch simmers within you.

The bitterness rages within you as you recall the pain he inflicted upon not only you but also your mother—the way he hurts her, the way he hurts you , as if you weren’t his child, as if xeranthi wasn’t his wife. 

A of hatred burns hot within your chest.

Why must your paternal lineage be marred by such malevolence? Why must your father be so callous, so devoid of compassion?

Surely, a father’s love should be a beacon of compassion and guidance, not a shroud of cruelty and desolation, right?

The notion that paternal love should be unconditional feels like a distant myth, a fantasy beyond your grasp. 

These thoughts churn within you, and you felt getting more, and more agitated as time passes by.

You rubbed your throbbing temples, just wanting the incessant ache to subside as you forced your mind to go back to the present dilemma—and not focus on aionarch’s bullshit.

Loathing aionarch would avail you nothing after all, and focus was imperative—as you needed to make a plan, a plan to go back to nebula and find ataraxia.

You were sure that if you even managed to go back to Nebula, Aionarch would kill you, yet, you didn’t care. Ataraxia was more important.

 Focus was key—you needed to devise a plan to return to nebula, to find your beloved Ataraxia.

Ataraxia is in danger, or maybe even dead...

The thought sent a twisting ache through your guts, knotting your insides as your throat constricted painfully. Images of her harmed or worse flooded your mind unbidden, each more gruesome than the last. You cursed your own vulnerability, your lack of power in this scenario. All you could do was hope, hope with every fiber of your being, that Fate had seen fit to spare her.

Have trust in her, she’s strong and intelligent. you told yourself again.

You raked  your trembling fingers through your hair as you sighed deeply, mouth twitching down into a frown as your fingers curled slightly as you suddenly remembered another obligation that was suddenly smashed down on you.

You’re a single mother now.

How the hell could you face Ataraxia? How are you supposed to tell her that you’re now a single mother and you have no explanation to offer? Doubtless, ataraxia would assume the worst—that in a moment of weakness or worse yet deceit, you had laid with another.

You didn’t want that, because infidelity isn’t your forte. 

It sucks, really, because you don’t even know the father of your self proclaimed son.

A shaking hand rose unsteadily to the nape of your neck, kneading the taut muscles that was locked, yet it provided no respite from the conflicted feelings that was raging within you.

You were so lost in your thoughts, and time itself ceased to have meaning. How long you’d lingered on the frigid ground again?

You just sat there, staring at the moon.

How had it come to this, you wondered. Why were you suddenly tasked with motherhood against your consent? Choso seemed resolute in claiming your connection, in claiming that he was your son.

And somehow, you believed it. Because his nature remained unclear, he wasn’t a human, and neither were you—so there’s a possibility that he was indeed your son.

Meanwhile, Your self-proclaimed son—Choso was beside you as you contemplated on your life choices.

Choso sat silently, idly dragging a stray twig through the sandy earth. His boredom was palpable, though his gaze occasionally flickered in your direction, scrutinizing for any sign of you retaliating or running away—After all, he can’t have you running from your obligation as his mother now, can you?

There was a palpable tension in the air as the two of you perched upon the rugged rock.

The silence was suffocatingly deafening—for it wasn’t the serene quietude, but rather an uneasy stillness that seemed to seep into the very crevices of the place.

Choso’s gaze was fixed on the earth beneath him, the tip of a stick tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, etching out random letters that held no meaning. 

Choso couldn’t fathom why you appeared so distraught—Why you looked so upset and agitated and a pang of guilt tugged at his heartstrings. Was it his presence that caused your distraught, leading you to sulk?

A fleeting frown crossed Choso’s lips. Is it because of him that you’re upset or something? He just wants you to let you know that you have a son, and not have you getting all depressed right here and then.

What had transpired to render you so distant, as though he were a stranger? Why do you gaze at him with a disorientated gaze—as though you don’t know him?

“Hey...” Your muted voice floated on the breeze, taking Choso’s attention as his ebony tresses swayed in the wind. Turning his head in uour direction,  his gaze fell upon your crestfallen mien—your eyes downcast and avoiding his probing stare

“Yes?” he asked, watching as you finally looked at him, noting the pensive furrow of your brow and the piercing gaze that you were giving him.

 “...you said that you’re my child, right?” Doubt laced your query as a thought took root—if it was true—that he was your son, then why did he stand before you fully grown? You were untouched, a maiden still, and your reason rebelled against what your eyes insisted was fact.

Maybe ataraxia got you pregnant unintentionally? No, no, that’s not possible, two women could not create new life no matter how fervent the affection is, and you haven’t done the deed yet.

Such things were fanciful impossibilities. 

“Yes,”  Choso said simply, though his reply did little to allay your turmoil—It was vague after all.

You frowned pensively as you took in Choso’s visage. Lines of strain etched themselves across his brow; a tightness pulled at the corners of his mouth. Shadows dusked beneath his downcast eyes. Had your words carried too much censure? 

Is it your fault? Were you so harsh? Is it because that you didn’t accept him as your son? Is it because you just won’t drop the subject?

Did he felt neglected by his mother or something?

You knew not how to be a mother, so how are you supposed to fulfill that role and not make him feel neglected? You were stressed too... Because if he really is your son, then why wasn’t he a baby at all, why is he a grown ass man?

The position strained you both, truly. Your chest constricted at the sight of choso’s solemn expression. Softly, you massaged your aching temples. Through dark lashes, you peered at Choso, taking in the stiff set of broad shoulders, fingers clenched white-knuckled in his lap. 

While you watched him with a pitiful gaze, Choso’s gaze remained downcast, tracing the purposeful march of dark ants amidst the dirt.

Choso was just wondering what would happen if he was born as an ant while you were busy there in your internal turmoil.

“Hey...”

A tentative breath escaped your lips as you mustered the courage to speak once more, the words delicately balanced on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sorry,”

you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you averted your gaze, your hand trembling slightly as it came to rest upon your lap. 

“I was just... overwhelmed by everything that’s happened,” you confessed, your fingers twisting anxiously in your lap.

“That’s why I’ve been so... agitated.. there’s just so many things that happened to me.. and I guess.. i kinda let my anger out on you...” 

The memory of Toji’s pungent aroma suddenly assaulted your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in a grimace as you fought to push the unpleasant recollection aside. 

Out of anything, why did you have to remember that little shit?

You sighed.

“I’m so sorry for being so harsh..”

You paused, your gaze searching his face, hoping to gauge his reaction, to discern whether your apology had been accepted or if the rift between your non-existent bond remained unhealed.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, the words laced with a heavy sigh as your fingers curled into your palms, the knuckles turning white with the tension. Choso arched a single,  eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with puzzlement. Were you feeling remorseful for some reason he couldn’t discern?

You bit your lower lip, the soft flesh catching between your teeth as you contemplated your response.

“Because of my harshness,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to the floor.

“I may have... unintentionally, of course... offended you.”

The words felt thick and heavy on your tongue, as if your very breath struggled to form them. Choso hummed, a low, contemplative sound that reverberated in his chest.

He couldn’t help but note the shift in your demeanor, the way your once-brash and snappish attitude had given way to a more gentle, solemn air. Had you finally come to terms with the fact that he had bested you in your previous arguments? Even better, did you finally accepted that he was your son? Fantastic, indeed.

Scooting closer to you, Choso reached out, his long fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand.

“You didn’t offend me,” he assured, his voice soft and soothing.

“There’s no need to apologize.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting his.

“I... I suppose that it’s okay then... But still, i’m sorry...” you said, your words hesitant and uncertain.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of peace had come, it was gone, and you were back to your old self, your brow furrowing as you fixed Choso with a pointed stare.

“But you do realize that you can’t be my son, don't you?” you asked.

Choso’s eye twitched, and he resisted the urge to let out a frustrated sigh. There you go again, trying to stir up another argument. It seemed that this was a topic you two would never see eye to eye on.

Your fingers gently intertwined with his calloused hand, and you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in texture, not only that.. his hands seemed to have the same size of yours, yet it still fit snugly.

An involuntary frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you contemplated whether your stature had somehow diminished, for you were certain your palm would have dwarfed his own. After all, you were taller than him and his head were barely reaching your shoulder.

“I know I’ve already told you this countless times before, but...” You paused, your voice soft and measured as you prepared to broach the sensitive topic once more.

“My lover is a woman.” You paused, studying his features for any flicker of understanding

Pressing your lips into a tight, resolute line, you continued,

“And two women, as you’re aware, cannot conceive a child together.”Your gaze drifted downward, fingers tracing the weathered contours of his palm in a delicate, almost reverent caress.

“And... Ugh, how many times do i have to say this...? This is embarrassing...” you grumbled.

“I’m the embodiment of chastity.”

You mumbled, lifting your eyes to meet his, a silent plea resonated within your gaze.

“And besides, we should simply just drop this and accept the fact that you’re not my son. Ataraxia might grow upset and assume I’ve been unfaithful and that i’m cheating on her.” Your words were laced with a soft desperation.

“And i don’t want that...”

“Please?” 

Choso scoffed, his brow furrowing as he pressed his palm against his temple, the other hand still enveloped in your grasp.

”Just... accept it,” he murmured, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“You still have my brother nestled within your womb.”

The very mention of that fact caused a knot of dread to coil in the pit of your stomach, His brother remained nestled safely within your womb. How could you forget the life growing within? How could you have forgotten, even for a moment, the life that now thrummed within you—the life that had been so unexpectedly, inexplicably conceived?

...

Now ataraxia had more reason to believe that you cheated because you were technically pregnant!

You released your hold on his hand, fingers trembling slightly as you raked them through your hair, the strands catching and snagging against your skin, and nails scraping across your scalp in agitation. 

“How did this even happen?” you breathed, the words barely audible as you watched Choso press his palm reverently against your tummy, fingers splayed as if listening.

“Can you not hear it?” he murmured, his expression calm and collectedness.

“Hear what?”

“The heartbeat of Noranso.” You felt your eyes widen in shock, jaw dropping open as you stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Flummoxed, you gaped at him as you spoke.

“Tangina Choso... Don’t tell me that..” The words tumbled from your lips, colored with disbelief.

You felt a bubbling surge of annoyance boil within your core, because if you were to give birth to that random child that randomly popped in your tummy then you would’ve named it ‘destroyer of the land and mountains’

You grimaced, founding the name that choso had given his brother kinda weird, and you were acting as if the name that you would give it wasn’t any weirder.

But To be honest? if choso didn’t have a name, then you would’ve had named him “armpit munchies” or “squishy toe nails.”

“... you named it?”

Choso merely shrugged, stepping back from you with a nonchalant air.

“No, that’s his name,” he replied vaguely, leaving you to gape at his retreating form, a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

His explanation provided little clarity to your muddled psyche. Brow furrowed, glancing between him and your stomach curiously. Finally, words tumbled forth quietly

“It has a name.” You repeated, baffled.

“I.. i see..”

“Do you all have your names chosen even before the...” you paused, brow furrowing as you struggled to find the right words,

“the sperm race?”

Choso merely shook his head, seeming equally perplexed.

“I don’t recall joining a race.” choso murmured.

“What’s a sperm?”

Waves of discomfort washed over you as you stared at Choso with a perplexed gaze, your fingers instinctively massaging the tense muscles at the base of your neck. How could this man before you, with all the trappings of adulthood, be utterly ignorant of the most fundamental aspects of human biology? You found yourself bewildered, your brow furrowing as you struggled to comprehend the sheer depth of his naivety. 

“You don’t know what a sperm is?” The words tumbled from your lips, laced with a mixture of incredulity and pity. Your eyes searched Choso's face, wondering if perhaps he was some sort of savant, what if he’s actually a baby trapped in a man’s body? 

“Er, well... it’s a small creature,” you began, the words catching in your throat as you grappled with the awkwardness of the situation.

“And, you know, it’s what men... release... on the female. And then, it leads to a baby or something.” You trailed off.

“Like during reproduction,” You added.

“You have those too” The words tumbled forth, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm of understanding that separated you. Choso’s expression remained flat.

“What do you mean?” His voice, devoid of any hint of emotion, only served to heighten your sense of unease.

“You have those too. Sperm. You have those.” You shook your head, the words tinged with a resigned exasperation.

“I don’t.” Choso asserted, shaking his head in a way that made your eye twitch involuntarily.

“But you do,” you replied, unable to contain your exasperation as you facepalmed.

“Beneath those clothes, you have a dick. It’s the thing between your legs, the flesh thing. And then you have balls, they’re connected to the dick and your sperm is inside of your balls.”

Your brusque, vulgar manner of explaining the process confused choso, you cringed internally as you realized how embarrassing and blunt your words is. Leaning forward, you extended a lone digit, pressing the tip firmly against the juncture of his thighs.

“Here.” you said.

Choso’s brow arched in bewilderment, his calloused palm slowly trailing downward to tentatively graze the area you had indicated.

“Here?” he questioned, his tone laced with uncertainty.

You offered a curt nod of affirmation.

“Yes, precisely there.” A long-suffering sigh escaped your lips as you watched his exploration.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Punyeta, choso, Anong kabobohan to?”

you lamented, the palm of your hand connecting sharply with your forehead in a gesture of pure exasperation.

Did this mirror the frustration Aionarch experienced while explaining the details of reproduction and the importance of restraint to your dumb ass? Was this the same impatience he felt when you struggled to grasp basic concepts?  Is this how he felt when he was teaching you what sex is and you can’t understand anything?

“I don’t know. But i don’t really know what you’re talking about.” Choso’s brow creased slightly as he tried to decipher your cryptic remarks.

“Are you truly aware that offspring gestate within the female womb, yet remain ignorant of the nature of the seed that initiates such creation?” you inquired with a hint of disbelief.

Choso emitted a dismissive snort. “Tsk.”

“Do i look like i care about that reproductive thing that you’re talking about?” Choso inquired, arching a sculpted brow with dubious sincerity. 

“Your words are too flowery ma, i can’t understand it.”

Choso responded, the honorific “ma” slipping unbidden from his tongue unconsciously. In all honesty, he could not muster the slightest interest in your diatribe and the meanings therein—Your speech simply dwarfed his capacity for comprehension.

“M-ma?” You sputtered in disbelief, your viscera twisted within your torso’s confines. Why the hell does he keep perceiving you as the mother who birthed him? You had already told him so many times before, Had his cognizance reshaped itself to see you thus? Jaw clenched taut, gut wrenched with turmoil, you met his steady gaze.

“What?” he asked, purple eyes narrowed to slits as irritation claimed dominion of mien and manner.

“Are you still insisting that i have that “dick” you were talking of?”

“i don’t have those.” he reiterated adamantly.

You exhaled deeply, pressing your fingertips to your temples as sheer vexation overtook you. It seemed this Choso was intent on persisting in his fanciful notion of you as his mothe, huh?

Though you strove for patience, his constant invocations of that diminutive designation only served to stoke the flames of irritation within you. 

You know that this might just fuel his delusion but you still spoke.

“If you’re really my son then you’ll have those.”

you remarked, exasperation sharpening your tongue as you pointed on his torso. Directing his gaze downwards, you noted the minute tensing of his brows as thoughtful consideration replaced that look of misguided familial bonding. Silently, he pondered your implication, tracing where your suggestive gesture indicated—his midsection bereft of the corporeal signs one might expect finding to see a true blood relation. 

“Why do you keep pointing at my midriff?, there’s nothing here.”

“I know that i’m right. You should just look for yourself, see if you’re right.” he mumbled incomprehensibly. 

“Okay.” You said flatly.

Your fingers grasped the fabric of his vest, the coarse material rough against your skin as you tugged him closer. With a sharp tug, you lifted the garment, revealing the taut, chiseled planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched suddenly, not expecting that.

“So?” He breathes out.

“It’s under here.” you murmured, your voice low and lilting as your hand drifted downward, tracing the line of the black, silk-like sash cinched around his hips. With deft movements, you began to untie the  knot, your fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his trousers as you tugged it.

“Here?” He asked, and choso blinked as he suddenly felt blood rushing down there.

What the hell is happening? He could feel something stiffening, but he just couldn’t pinpoint what it is...

“You look like you’re living in an another person’s body, you know?”  you murmured, your eyes gravitating upwards to meet his. Choso’s gaze wandered, his mind occupied with a myriad of thoughts, his body tensing uncomfortably in response. The alien sensation of his new body still lingered, a mere twenty days into this unfamiliar vessel. A body bestowed upon him by a mysterious stranger, a doppelganger of yourself in every aspect—from the matching lips to the identical eyes, skin tone, and hair.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny, eerie in its precision.

But the personalities and the voice is different though.

Unease shadowed his  features, amethyst  eyes brooding, thoughts no doubt wandering to that fateful encounter only days past when first he’d been gifted with animated flesh.

Your voice broke him out of his reverie.

“I am not well-versed in the anatomy of males,  But i guess I’ll just indulge you in from what I've read in my books,” you stated with a trace of bitterness, recalling the arduous task of having to study that 50 books with long ass pages for no reason at all.

 “Maybe we should start with your upper physique?” you suggested with innocent curiosity, your words laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Your delicate hands slowly roamed his firm physique, lingering in certain spots as if mapping every contour with her touch alone. A visible shiver coursed through his body at the first caress upon his bare chest. “So here,” You began, pressing your soft palms fully against his pecs,

“lies your thoracic cavity.”

He gazed down intently at your hands exploring his form, too confused to fully comprehend your anatomical lesson.

“What’s a thoracic cavity?” He questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s your chest. It’s a complex chamber nestled within your chest, safeguarding the vital organs necessary for sustaining life,” you explained, noting how he tilted his head slightly as he delicately removed your fingers from his cloth. With a meticulous gesture, he adjusted the fabric and lifted it up higher granting you an enhanced view of his upper body.

“You mean, the things that are essential for living?” he murmured in wonderment.

“Yeah.” you affirmed with a nod.

“Hmm... Intriguing,” he mused, mentally marking the importance of this knowledge.

 His gaze then wandered towards your own chest.

“Why does your chest look like that? It’s different from mine.” he inquired, leaving you momentarily speechless.

You gawked.

“Putanginang lalake to... Choso, don’t ask questions like that! It’s uncomfortable and weird.” You sighed.

“Look me in the eyes, not my chest,” you instructed, a hint of exasperation lacing your words as he acquiesced with a nod, seemingly unaware of his lapse in etiquette.

You cleared your throat, hoping to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

“So... Back to what i was saying.”

“There’s organs in here and they’re essential for your living. It's divided into three main parts, right pleural cavity, left pleural cavity and mediastinum. And the five organs in your thoracic cavity are your heart, lungs, esophagus, trachea and thymus.”

“There’s bones in here too, like your ribs and the sternum.”

“This one’s your sternum,” You mumble, tracing the arch of his sternum before dipping lower 

“And this one’s your ribcage.”

Your fingers delicately glided across the solid ridges of his rib cage.

Sliding lower still, the tips of your fingers grazed his taut stomach.

“The abdomen...” you comtinued,

“The abdomen contains many vital organs: the stomach, the small intestine, the large intestine, the liver, the spleen, the gallbladder, the pancreas, the bladder, and many blood vessels.”

“And here, your groin”  Your fingers dipped under his waistband and you were about to take it off until a distorted sound reached your ears, a warped and twisted echo that set your nerves on edge.

“Mommyyy” it crooned, and you froze, choso stiffening beside you as you both snapped your gaze toward the source.

There, emerging from the shadows, a giant, fat, purple worm with an ugly and contorted face. The same creature you had once shapeshifted into.

“Mommy H​​​​​​ug me”

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𝐍𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐀

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The miasmic scent of blood flooded Xeranthi’s senses as she gingerly sat upon her husband’s lap. Aionarch’s hand massaged her lacerated flesh. Stiffening against the forthcoming anguish, she steeled herself to absorb his ministrations without compromise of façade. 

The woman’s ravaged flesh contracted in pain as pale slender fingers traced over her fresh lashes, reopening the barely sealed wounds.

Xeranthi’s flesh constricts as his fingers delved deeply into the crimson gash, parting the freshly torn skin with delicate precision. Her muscles and sinews writhed beneath his probing touch, the contractile tissue recoiling from the painful intrusion. Ichor fluid welled and spilled anew with each probing motion, and it dripped down his fingers like midnight liquid, painting his fingers a grim ichor.

Each brush of contact sent tendrils of white-hot agony lancing through her battered form, her stomach roiling with a fresh wave of nauseating pain—and she wanted to vomit so bad.

Aionarch methodically traced the wound’s edge, his glowing touch bringing tentative relief—That xeranthi very much didn’t appreciated. Her taut fibers slowly drew closed once more beneath his healing caress, though, the residual soreness remained.

The whip that they used kn her was excruciatingly painful, a nefarious device of torture forged from a dragon's scaly tail. Each serrated barb along its rippling length was painful, and each sharp tooth that lined the whip’s gangrenous tongue was carved from the fossilized scales of some bygone beast, and Xeranthi could feel her senses reeling as she remembered the obsidian talons buried deep within her back, rending sinews and splitting her skin. 

She hissed in irritation as his head nestled intimately at her nape. His fingers drifted now across her marred back, cataloging each cruel mark left by the  kiss. Over raised welts and gouges his hands roamed, tracing the ribs laid bare through her broken flesh.

Her form shivered violently at the fresh stimulus to such tender wounds, irritation and anger writting clear upon her trembling limbs. Still he persisted, tending injuries both evident and deeper still, his moist exhalations but another torment upon her skin already flayed. Slowly, gradually, underneath his ministrations the ravages began to fade.

Even in supposed gentleness her sadistic lord inflicted new torments too. Though his touch now soothed rather than seared, memories of past cruelties clung to her like parasites, burrowing their tendrils deep into her psyche.

“you’ve been quiet for quite a while now,”

Aionarch said quietly, though a hint of irritation colored his tone. This wasn’t the reaction he envisioned from Xeranthi after taking her away from that dreadful place. 

Despite his efforts to mend her wounds, an undercurrent of ingratitude lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

Such an ungrateful wife she is, no wonder that their daughter is ungrateful too.

“And what would you have me say?” 

Xeranthi jaw sets like stone as she let out a derisive grunt.

“Want me to thank you for your oh so called graceful mercy? Want me to thank you and act like you’re my savior when you’re the reason why i’m there in the first place?”

Aionarch grasped her chin roughly, his nails digging crescents into her flesh as he forced her gaze to meet his own.

“Ah? It seems the apple falls not far from the tree,” he murmured. “I think I know from whence our daughter’s foolishness stems,”

He breathed, the scent of wine upon his breath.

“So you’ve finally recognized your own reflection?”

Xeranthi’s lips curled into a wry smile, though no mirth touched her eyes. “So you finally admit she inherits her dull wit from you?”

Pausing, Aionarch considered her retort before throwing back his head and laughing, though the sound held no joy.

“Nay, ‘Tis from you, wife.”

 Aionarch hesitated, brow furrowing, then laughed sharply. “No, she gets her foolishness from you.”

“She has your features, your genes,” Xeranthi countered. 

“And she has your intellect, or lack thereof.

Aionarch’s fingers clenched tighter, his nails breaking skin, still Xeranthi would not flinch or cry out, meeting his gaze with defiance.

“You are cute Weiveiun,” He says with a chuckle.

Xeranthi narrowed her eyes as his icy gaze bored into her, pale ichor dripping slowly from vicious half-moon gouges in her skin where his nails still dug. Though her flesh stung in pain, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.  

Dark lashes fluttered shut to block out his soulless stare, though it did nothing to halt the onslaught of memories assaulting her mind.

“What  did you do to my soryuleitha?”

“I know that you wouldn’t bring her up unless you did something.”

Aionarch hums as he traced a thumb along her jaw, smearing the iridescent blood across her cheek in a gruesome caress.  

“What do you think?” He asks.

“I discovered that our daughter has become enamored with a woman,” the deity sighed languidly, and Xeranthi remained stock-still as her eyes grew wide with horror and dismay. No... surely Aionarch has not uncovered your secret attraction to the fairer sex? Xeranthi swallowed painfully, hoping beyond hope that you remains unscathed, for she knows all too well how cruel Aionarch can be, and how fiercely he despises any bond of intimacy that deviates from his narrow conception of propriety. And it was especially grievous, for it concerned you. 

“You’ve hurt her...” Xeranthi said in icy tones and Aionarch hummed dismissively, feeling some subterranean forces suddenly surging forth from nowhere to pierce through him, but they dissipated impotently as he dispersed them with a negligent flick of his hand. 

“Indeed, I did,” Aionarch replied coldly, without an ounce of remorse, not even caring about xeranthi’s pathetic attempt to hurt him.

 Drawing a shuttered breath, Xeranthi stated grimly, “You should’ve just killed her.” She said coldly.

“And not hurt her.”

“You hurt her so grievously because you are consumed by envy of her lover, isn’t it?” Xeranthi murmured pensively, and for a split-second, Aionarch’s eyes widened in surprise at her perceptiveness before he threw his head back and laughed hollowly.

“Clever girl,” he purred, pressing his lips to Xeranthi’s cheek in a mockery of affection, which caused the goddess to recoil inwardly from his defiling touch.

“Since when did you know, hm?” Aionarch asks, and Xeranthi’s gaze slowly drifted downwards, her eyes avoiding his penetrating stare. How did she know? Through her stealthy observations over many years. Ever since you were a mere babe, it had seemed to Xeranthi that Aionarch was utterly obsessed with you, obsessed with sculpting you into some ideal of perfection, obsessed with isolating you from all others until you belonged only to him. None dare speak to him in such a casual, informal way without meeting a ghastly end, and yet with you he was strangely tender, affectionate even.

And that was not all—Aionarch kept a close, watchful guard over your purity as well, as if you were his private treasure. These things had whispered to Xeranthi’s intuition for longer than she could recall, leaving an uneasy sense of foreboding within her.

“Ever since she was a child,”

“I see the way you look at her.” Xeranthi murmured through clenched teeth, each word sharp enough to draw blood. Her fingernails dug half-moons into her palms as barely contained rage coursed through her veins.

“The way you so readily forgive her transgressions, as if she hung the very stars in the sky.”

Aionarch merely hummed in noncommittal acknowledgement, yet the icy disdain miring his eyes belied the uncaring facade he attempted to project.

“True, I harbor no love for you,” he conceded with a frigid smile that raised hackles along Xeranthi's neck.

“But i do care for you. Do I not provide for your needs? Have I not elevated your status above all others?”

She sneered mirthlessly.

“Spare me your falsehoods and justifications. I am no fool, no matter how you may seek to paint me as such. I know well that you used me—my body, my name—for no other purpose than so you could have a child because apparently, i’m the prettiest goddess blah blah blah, bullshit like that. Like i give a damn if you elevated my status”

“Watch your insolent tongue, woman, lest you regret the consequences.” 

Xeranthi barked a harsh, derisive laugh.

“The truth wounds, does it? That I see clearly what lies beneath your genteel ravings? She looks like you,” she spat venomously,

“and so you mistake your narcissism for love. You like her because she looks like you, she spits your image.”

“Your feelings for [Name] has never been platonic in the first place.”

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𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

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𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏. [Name]’s stomach is starting to digest Choso’s Brother.

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Xeranthi knows about [Name] and Ataraxia.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. [Name] is the goddess of chastity, cause she was forced to live in Chastity by her father.

𝟎𝟎𝟒. Ataraxia heard the conversation between Aionarch and Xeranthi.

𝟎𝟎𝟓. The worm thinks that [Name] is its mommy too because yk? She once transformed into the worm and the worm scent is clinging onto her—so the worm assumed that she was its mommy.

𝟎𝟎𝟔. Choso wanted to ask about Ataraxia but refrained himself from doing so.

𝟎𝟎𝟕. Xeranthi wasn’t bothered by aionarch’s incestuous love cause it’s normal for them—since they’re deities and incest is normal in deities and they see nothing wrong with it.

𝟎𝟎𝟖. The person that gave choso his body was said that they looked like Kamiseijin but it’s not really kamiseijin, neither was it aionarch.

𝟎𝟎𝟗. Aionarch didn’t killed ataraxia for a reason;)

𝟎𝟏𝟎. Aionarch only took Xeranthi away to share some information with Xeranthi cause he kinda expected that Xeranthi would recoil at the thought of [Name] liking a woman but got the opposite reaction instead cause Xeranthi supports her daughter no matter what.

𝟎𝟏𝟏. Choso once considered bashing your head. 

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𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏​​​​. “Punyeta, anong kabobohan to choso” means “What the fuck kind of stupidity is this, Choso?”

Weiveiun means 

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Soryuleitha means “My sole happiness”

𝟎𝟎𝟑.​Weiveiun means “My darling”

𝟎𝟎𝟒. “Putang inang lalake to” means this fucking man...

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🔪 || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

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╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐒atoru has been thinking about you or whatever, and honestly? He’s getting a bit jealous of you because suguru has been focusing on tryna figure out what the actual fuck you are.

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╰┈➤ 𝟏𝟎% 

—𝐒uguru saw ataraxia’s name on the necklace and now he’s assuming that your name is ataraxia<3.

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╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐓oji misses his worm already, please come back. He needs money.

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╰┈➤ 𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐%)

—𝐒hoko, just like suguru, assumed that your name is ataraxia and now she’s doing loads of research in tryna find you.

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╰┈➤ 𝟐𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟒%)

—𝐂hoso is getting irritated by you. BUT, he’s jealous because a fucking worm just called you mommy! Like why is the worm stealing his mother? Choso was annoyed at that + he’s also annoyed at the fact that you kept on telling him about human reproduction or something like that, he’s getting uncomfortable with the topic + what are you even saying about his body or something? Choso has never really looked at his body or something like that, nor did he paid any mind in the details.

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𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

okokok, so i’m not writing choso as an “innocent uwu” bullshit like that. Choso is not innocent in here and he’s just really curious about how the human body works, but that doesn’t mean that he’s innocent or something. He just trusts Kamiseijin and is quite comfortable with her, that’s why. + He’s literally thinking of killing [Name].

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Shit’s bouta go down at chapter six:) just don’t mind my obsession with anatomy lmfao. This chapter is cringe af (everything is in my pov) dawg, i sprained my ankle and now i’m itching to hurt my mc again... But i just decided to give her this moment of peace because i’m gonna take it all away soon💓.... Mwhehe i was supposed to make her meet Toru and Sugu in her human form but i decided to just make them meet her at chap 7 cause (spoilers: there’s gonna be a fight in chapter 6)

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LOL THIS BULLSHIT BECAME A SCIENCE LESSON INSTEAD OF A JJK FUCKIN' FANFIC LMAOOO SJHSHZJAJAK... And yeah... When i said that there’s gonna be incest in here... I meant that. BUT DON’T THINK THAT I CONDONE/NORMALIZE THAT BEHAVIOR IRL OKAY? incest isn’t okay and it’s illegal<3

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[idyllcy]

Ahhh I want to say everything this album is my roman empire but that’s so true for Jason Todd because that song is everything

wait, I think I've been there too - jason todd x reader

Jason's move on is never as clean as his siblings, but it'll never show.

When you meet him in passing, he always gives you a polite nod to you and whomever you're with — nothing more, nothing less.

There's a bitterness to see that you've moved on faster than he has, though.

When you take them to meet him, insisting that he should at least meet the person you're seeing now that the two of you are just friends again, Jason has to force a smile on his face even if he hates them. He's not that evolved. It's unfair to assume that he's capable of just meeting reality and living with the fact that you had broken up with him on mutual terms and it took so long for him to get over you before he could even think or look at another person and you had moved on so quickly that you could still show Jason your new lover.

Jason doesn't like him, though, so it's only fair that he'd speak up about it.

He knows you better than anyone else, and the one you're with right now isn't good for you either. He knows. He's known.

And, well. Whether or not you listen is entirely up to you.

secret of us (deluxe) event

[is-the-king-dead-yet]

I think we've heard the phrase "fame is abuse" before but it applies most to the English royal family, doesn't it? Tapping phone lines, hacking into phones, paparazzi contributing to Diana's death, constant speculation about the women's fertility, hyper monitoring of the women's bodies, the "caged panda" effect of being well taken care of but unable to do anything even mildly of their own will. They're born to do Imperial PR. And while PR for empire is evil, and abdication is always a fantastic option, having an entire family of people born and raised only to look pretty and have babies is also an evil of its own kind. Not as dangerous of an evil as the hoarding of wealth and the abuse of native peoples globally. But still an evil.

It produces warped and stunted people, too. Charles III's total failure to remove himself from politics and his crunchy conspiracy nonsense are the most noticeable effects of being a guy who's never been told "no" in his life (and the one time he was told no, he just carried it on as an affair anyways, damn the effects on his wife). And then we have Harry and William, made to perform their grief for millions of people, and Megan, who had the unfair choice of either giving up her relationship or walking into the greatest historical den of racism in the world.

We have a good teehee about short live the king around here and every royal death is an awesome chance to just stop, to just not hold another coronation. But tbh the whole system is internally abusive to those closest to it as well, and that's a secondary reason to shut it down. It's like releasing a zoo animal into the wild, right? They don't want to go from the million dollar enclosure into an uncertain environment, but set them free and their grandkids will thank you.