#I shall have to rejoice while i can

[lordofthesoups]

First proper blue sky of the year!!!!!! Oh how i have missed the sun. Immediate mood improvement stepping out into a world which isnt grey and barely lit

[flagellant]

me: damn its been a while but i need to do the dishes in the sink

the dishes in the sink: Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that gather in the darkness and surround the world with the power of their lives while from the dimlit halls of other places forms that never were and never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who never saw what could have been. In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth. The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear, but whether it decays under the earth or above on green fields, or out to sea or in the very air, all shall come to revelation, and to revel, in the knowledge of the strangling fruit—and the hand of the sinner shall rejoice, for there is no sin in shadow or in light that the seeds of the dead cannot forgive. And there shall be in the planting in the shadows a grace and a mercy from which shall blossom dark flowers, and their teeth shall devour and sustain and herald the passing of an age. That which dies shall still know life in death for all that decays is not forgotten and reanimated it shall walk the world in the bliss of not-knowing. And then there shall be a fire that knows the naming of you, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you that remains.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you think twst has any chance to make at least one fan ship canon? Like for example they hint on someone from nrc main cast is dating, or even something deeper with yuu. Or absolutely nothing of that happens because it's a disney game at the end?

No way, absolutely not 😂 They'll always tease it, but never actually commit to it. That's why Ace has an ex and not a current girlfriend (the other part of it is just him being an asshole). That's why Eliza/the Ghost Bride doesn't actually marry Idia; only expresses an interest in him but ultimately settles for someone else. That's why Vil has several adoring fans but those fans are not depicted as gunning for him as their boyfriend/husband (when the most crazed of fans irl would). That's why Lilia confessed to Maleanor but she chose someone else and later died (while the other person Lilia "loves", Raverne, went missing), thus "freeing" Lilia up. That's why Cater always talks about cute girls (and even fellow peers) but doesn't go out of his way to act on those flirtations. This has less to be with "oh, it's Disney" and more to do with the genre of the game (joseimuke). If anything, I feel like people might expect there to be canonized romance because it's Disney--a company closely associated with happily ever afters and fairy tales--not expect no canonized romance. However, a joseimuke game often presents characters in a platonic or questionably platonic light so the players can project whatever relationships with the characters they wish, whether that’s between the character and themselves, between the character and an OC, or between character and character. To canonize a "love interest" for a character hampers the self-insert appeal for fans of that character. There have been multiple instances of gacha fanbases becoming upset when the games try to introduce a "canon" or even a “rival” love interest for a beloved waifu, husbando, etc. because it makes fans of the now "taken" character feel ignored, rejected, or generally (for lack of a better term) "cheated on". That goes for shipping between the player or an OC and the character as well as shipping the characters with one another. This would also potentially upset the fans who headcanon the characters as a certain sexuality and/or with a certain dynamic in mind. I'd imagine Twst would want to avoid this at all costs, as it causes drama in the fandom and could eat into their profit margins.

I'm also very much against the idea that one character will be the romantic "end game" for Yuu. I often see one particular character (who shall not be named, as I do not want to stoke unnecessary discourse) being hawked as "the canon love interest", but if I'm being honest those kinds of claims make me uncomfortable. In stating one character is "the canon love interest" (even as a joke), it unintentionally invalidates those who don't wish to be forced to "be" with that character, and especially if they have a preference for someone else. This would be even worse if ever canonized; fans of that ship will rejoice but everyone else would be dissatisfied. Again, it just hinders the self-insert design of joseimuke games and is extremely counterintuitive in that regard.

[theexorcistiii]

They should make a weed strain named Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that gather in the darkness and surround the world with the power of their lives while from the dimlit halls of other places forms that never were and never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who never saw what could have been. In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth. The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear, but whether it decays under the earth or above on green fields, or out to sea or in the very air, all shall come to revelation, and to revel, in the knowledge of the strangling fruit—and the hand of the sinner shall rejoice, for there is no sin in shadow or in light that the seeds of the dead cannot forgive. And there shall be in the planting in the shadows a grace and a mercy from which shall blossom dark flowers, and their teeth shall devour and sustain and herald the passing of an age. That which dies shall still know life in death for all that decays is not forgotten and reanimated it shall walk the world in the bliss of not-knowing. And then there shall be a fire that knows the naming of you, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you that remains.

[blackgreenandblue]

Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that gather in the darkness and surround the world with the power of their lives while from the dimlit halls of other places forms that never were and never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who never saw what could have been. In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth. The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear, but whether it decays under the earth or above on green fields, or out to sea or in the very air, all shall come to revelation, and to revel, in the knowledge of the strangling fruit—and the hand of the sinner shall rejoice, for there is no sin in shadow or in light that the seeds of the dead cannot forgive. And there shall be in the planting in the shadows a grace and a mercy from which shall blossom dark flowers, and their teeth shall devour and sustain and herald the passing of an age. That which dies shall still know life in death for all that decays is not forgotten and reanimated it shall walk the world in the bliss of not-knowing. And then there shall be a fire that knows the naming of you, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you that remains.

[brittle-doughie]

Rejoice (St. Pastry Order)

[The Lone Giant AU]

“Have you heard? The Giant is said to be walking through nearby Parfaedia tonight, they’re going to impose a curfew.”

“Really? Well, you won’t be catching me going outside then. Guess I’ll stock up on potions in the morning.”

“Is there really nothing that can be done to take care of the Giant? Has no Cookie ever tried using magic or their blades to take care of them?”

“Magic has no effect on them and not even the largest blade can make a sizable scratch. Besides, I doubt those White Mask cookies will allow you anywhere close to the Giant.”

“Oh right, those Cookies. The ones that claim that the Giant is their Divine Creator, here to reunite with their cookies once more. A whole lot of crazy if you ask me…”

“Crazy? Oh, but it is true! We have predicted that the day would come, my friends. That one day, the Divine Creator would return to us and guide us towards our destiny as one!”

“Huh? What nonsense are you spouting out this time?”

———————————————————————

[Beyond the Wall, Parfaedia Outskirts]

White Mask 1: “They are approaching! Ready the flame!”

A cookie donning a white mask hastily walked up the steps to an altar and ignites it, a blue flame roars to life amidst the dark terrain.

White Mask 2: “The High Priestess requests that the statue is placed properly!”

More cookies donning white masks work together to push a statue up the steps, before the roaring flame. The shape of the statue resembles less like of a cookie, it was more..human-like.

Two cookies watch on the display, one wore glasses along with her white nun robe that covered most of her light mint green hair, Reverend Mother Cookie.

The other one was taller than her, wearing her nun robe, albeit it was dark red in color complimented with white that did little to distract her bright red hair and eyes that bore snake slit eyes, High Priestess Cookie. (or Red Wine Cookie.)

Reverend Mother Cookie: “Everything is according to plan, we shall be ready before the Divine Creator arrives…”

High Priestess Cookie: “Wonderful, providence smiles upon you all. Have any heretics try to breach the ceremony?”

Reverend Mother Cookie: “The nearby town of Parfaedia are in the middle of curfew, no one is allowed out of the walls when our Divine Creator is nearby…”

High Priestess Cookie: “Afraid of our Creator, still. I see that the land still houses…ignorance, for our Creator only wish to save them from themselves…”

White Mask 2: “They are here! The Divine Creator has blessed all of us with their light!”

The two cookies’ attention was drawn and they make their way to a fair distance away from the front of the altar, joined with other nuns. The High Priestess stands in front while the Reverend Mother and her fellow Sisters kneel behind her in rows. The Missionary Cookie hurried into her spot after arriving to the ceremony.

Missionary Cookie: “Ah! I hope I am not too late!”

Reverend Mother Cookie: “No, my child. You have in fact arrived just in time…”

The ground starts to rumble as the approaching giant draws closer, the High Priestess can’t help to hide the ever growing smile on her face as the rumbling grew more intense.

The sky darkens as clouds form, the heat of the flame mixing with the cold air causing a fog to descend on the ceremony. The rumbling stops and despite being unable to see far off, the High Priestess knew of the colossal presence before them.

High Priestess Cookie: “O’ Blessed Creator, of whom all dough is created! Long have we waited for this day for you!”

Lightning strikes the sky, illuminating it briefly to reveal a massive shadow looming over the ceremony, the upper half of the giant obscured by the clouds. Reverend Mother spread her arms outs as did the other nuns as they looked up at the sky at their Creator.

Reverend Mother Cookie: “Rejoice, my Sisters!”

High Priestess Cookie: “We had hoped you’d return one day, O’ Blessed Creator. We have prepared all of this in hopes of earning your favor…”

———————————————————————

You leaned down to see the crowd of cookies before you better, then you noticed the little statue they made of you. It was..pretty spot on for a replica!

You: “Not bad, that’s a pretty accurate replica. You, uh, sure are dedicated to me! Er…here!”

You hand them an item you had, a pristine cookie cutter. The White Masks carefully take it and took it back to a safe spot.

High Priestess Cookie: “We are not deserving of your generosity, O’ Blessed Creator. We shall continue to spread truth and wisdom to the ignorant cookies in the land, whatever your Will commands it~”

To the side of the ceremony, three figures watch. One was proud to see the ceremony had worked while the other two were more younger and more amazed by having their beliefs made come true!

Mille-feuille Cookie: “Now do you see how benevolent and generous our Creator can be? We have long ran away from their fold, yet here they are. Willing to forgive us for the ultimate sin of the first Cookies!”

Orphan Cookie 1: “Wow, so cool! I knew the Creator was real! I’ve never doubted it for a second!”

Orphan Cookie 2: “A-are you sure they are not mad at us? They must’ve been a bit angry when the first Cookies ran away…”

What the? There were little ones here? Was this their field trip or something? You weren’t sure how to proceed, but you didn’t want to make them upset either. You fished around for something until you pulled out three candy bars, extra small size thank goodness. You handed it to the three cookies carefully.

Mille-feuille Cookie: “See? Utter generosity that we are not deserving of.”

Orphan Cookie 1: “We are not! I’ll treasure this as much as I can!”

Orphan Cookie 2: “Thank you, Creator!”

You turn back to the main group of nuns and White Masks as they kneel and spread their arms out, Reverend Mother and High Priestess Cookie included as they all rejoice.

Rejoiced for their Creator.

Everyone: “HAIL CREATOR!”

[evilwizard]

The Lich Who Stole Christmas

Every tumblrina in tumblr liked Christmas a lot.

But the lich, who lived just north of Tumblr, did not!

The lich hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be his skull wasn’t screwed on quite right. It could be, perhaps, that his skin was too tight.

But I think that the likeliest reason of all… was his heart was encased by a strange lead-lined ball.

“Last year I made something that I thought in would usher

A new age of magic—my prized OrphanCrusher.

But my patents were stolen, and my sweet new invention

Is now being used… with good-ish intentions.

You see, Christmas wishes contain lots of magic;

And my device extracts it through methods so tragic

That I dare not mention them directly here

Though the name might clue in certain readers, I fear.

The Wizard Council, now that they possess this device,

Might use it, this year, to stamp out wizard vice.

Though the process might turn quite a few kids to carrion,

The Wiz Council’s ethics are utilitarian.

So what shall I do? What is to be done?

It seems rather clear that this Christmas can’t come.

But I’ve read a few books, and I know a few tricks

So this year I’ll steal Christmas, while dressed as Saint Nick!”

So the wizard of evil returned to his lair

Stitched a red suit, and did up his hair

Built a sleek sled—and—who among us,

Could hope for a much better Rudolph than Krongus?

They took to the skies, that next Christmas Eve,

And tailgated Santa, whom they hoped to deceive

At every house he left presents, they quickly descended,

And stole the decor and the gifts he’d intended.

And when the dark wizard’s sleigh was full-loaded with gifts,

He tugged at the reigns, and they made for The Rift!

A place where the veil between worlds was thin…

And a brilliant place to dump the gifts in!

“You see,” he told Krongus, as they approached that strange crack,

“Once something goes in, it can never come back!”

“Moreover, it’s perfect,” the wizard did sing,

“For The Rift destroys every part of that thing!”

“Every instance, every atom in all multiverses,

Will be undone as though by my special dark curses.

Not a gram, not a dust speck or mote shall remain,

And no one will even remember their name!”

“But sire,” muttered Krongus, “would it not be more precise,

If you simply put in the OrphanCrusher device?”

The evil wizard thought of this, parking his sleigh in the snow.

He’d made quite a trip, and this seemed quite a blow.

“I do have one here,” he told that weird devil.

“But destroying Christmas seems rather more evil!”

Then, far behind him, and the gifts he had pillaged,

He heard a small noise coming from Tumblr Village.

It was simply a song, of holiday spirit,

But the wizard was utterly shocked just to hear it.

“It came without ribbons! It came without tags!

It came without packages, boxes or bags!”

Then the lich thought of something he hadn’t before.

Could it be Christmas was some kind of contagion or spore?

What happened next? Well, in Tumblr, they say,

The lich’s dead heart exploded that day!

And the combustive force of that villainous blast,

Airlifted the sleigh, and brought it right back,

To the village, where Tumblrinas rejoiced!

Then continued to sing, and lift up their voice.

And back at the rift, the lich, with head in a spin,

At the edge of the rift dropped the OrphanCrusher in.

So Christmas was saved, by accident mostly,

Though performing a good deed turned the bad wizard ghostly.

“Come, Krongus—we must now return to my tower,

While I wait several months to return to full power.”

And at Wizard Council HQ, certain strategist seers,

Saw all this occur through the orbs that they peered.

They smiled, and high-fived, and struck up the band,

Pleased that these events had gone just as planned.

[smolvenger]

The Little Princess (Henry V x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As queen of the nation and wife to Henry the Fifth, all rejoice to discover you are pregnant with your first child with your beloved husband. Only to discover, the child is not the long awaited son, but a girl...

Word Count: 5K

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson

@anukulee @herdetectivetheorist (from your request!)

A/N: hehehehe uploading this while listening to "The Man" by Taylor Swift

Warnings: Pregnancy and childbirth in the beginning, which I try to portray as realistically as I can. I changed up what would have happened in history per the request I was given for this. No way is it accurate. But also this is fanfic world and irl Henry V wouldn't have had the luscious curls and ass of Tom Hiddleston. Mentions of sex but no smut. Baby stuff. Some angst, but lots of fluff. Grammar and spelling mistakes that missed my radar.

“Her Majesty, the Queen of England, is with child, Your Highness,” the messenger announced.

Henry had slouched, relaxed on his wooden throne. He then shot up straight. The dominant grace he held cracked for a second. His blue eyes blinked, doing his best not to stagger in his posture.

“She…she is?” he asked, almost incredulously.

The messenger nodded his head.

“Yes. The physician just examined her. He asked me to inform you of these happy tidings. And we shall pray you shall soon be blessed with an heir apparent,” he reported with a smile.

Henry found a small half laugh escape him. He smiled so wide it showed his teeth. He lowered his head, feeling a little dizzy for a second. But he knew how to regain himself quickly after his time as the ruler of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.

“Tell the physician we thank him for his swift and happy news,” he replied.

The messenger bowed his head and exited through the wooden doors.

Henry did his best to remain focused throughout the meetings today. But he found his head swam. You- his precious wife, beloved consort-was going to have a child- have his child. He was going to be a father, and you were going to be a mother. His entire world had changed in just a minute and he was supposed to act as normal.

Once they were declared finished, he shot up.

“I would like to visit her Majesty at once,” he declared.

“She is in her chambers, my lord,” one servant confirmed.

He hurried to where you were, the attendants right behind him. The hallways nearly spun as he walked with such a quick bounce. Not caring even if his crown was knocked out of his head.

Meanwhile, you were sitting down. Your stomach was already churning- for you had become more aware of it since this morning. You could only sit and embroider with your ladies in waiting- it was only a matter of time until-

“His majesty, the king,” a male attendant announced at the door.

 You shot up and curtsied as Henry the Fifth of Lancaster bounded in. The other ladies followed suit.

“My lord, and husband,” you replied dutifully, raising back up to face him.

Henry looked flushed, scattered even. He walked up to you and held both of your hands in his.

“My lady, do you confirm that what I heard was true? Are you…are you with child?” he asked softly. As if you were in private and not with a dozen eyes on you.

You nodded, smiling. You leaned in closer, your voice matching his quiet tone.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I know it in my heart, Harry. I’ve had no courses for months. The physician’s tests confirmed my suspicions….” you replied.

 You took his hand and moved it to your stomach. Even if it appeared normal, even if the baby was now small- it seemed even the king himself sensed the presence inside.

“Our first child is inside me now,” you said finally.

He picked you up and spun you around and kissed you. Bursting into laughter, you clutched him. He held your face and kissed you again. You, his wife, his queen, his beloved, now about to be mother to his child. Who cared if these people saw this intimacy from their lord? He was the maker of what was formal, not they. 

“We’ve prayed so long for this, my lord. You know how long we have asked God to bless us someday… and someday has arrived!!” you replied.

He held your face again, his eyes shining.

“I’ve never loved you more than this moment, Y/N,” he confessed. 

“I love you too, Harry,” you responded.

As the pregnancy passed, you dealt with each symptom with as much grace as you could. For you knew once you had a son, all would see you as more than just Henry’s pretty accessory and broodmare. You would be the mother to the next king. All would respect you and revere you far more. That brought you through the mornings of nausea and sudden, intense cravings for certain foods.

What was best was the nighttime before sleep. Henry defied court tradition and insisted he wanted to join you in your chambers. Even though there was the advice that he avoid his marital duties until after the baby arrived, to risk any lustful acts harming the child inside you. To have a misteress to pleasure him as you carried the child was out of the question for Harry of England. He would prefer to fall on his sword instead.

The truth was, you didn’t need to perform any act of lust with your husband to be with him. You both could sit in silence. Read books and play chess or little games. Discuss anything and everything. Even to lay in bed and to hold each other. And how your heart burst with love as you felt his hand on his stomach and heard him talk to the child.  Even placing little kisses on there. When the baby first kicked, you put his hand there to feel. You both grinned and kissed each other. That was as intimate as anything with your bodies entwining. Whispering names and hopes for the little child. Said little prayers for a safe delivery for you. For the baby in your stomach to survive past infancy. To survive to an adult. One that would always know how much their mother and father wanted and loved them.

When the time came for confinement, the time when you would stay only in your private chambers in the ninth month away from the court, including Henry, to help guarantee a safe delivery. Your heart beat fast. Your stomach was so large that you could only waddle rather than walk. Henry only kissed you, gently tracing your face. Promising that only if there was a crisis would he break down the doors and run to your side. 

For days you sat in your rooms. It became stuffy and dark as they closed the curtains, the priests carrying incense throughout and blessing what was going to be the birthing bed. You sat there, sweating, and feeling both the immense fear of your death and the fear of the pain.

 At last, one early morning, your water broke. Hyperventilating and crying, you awoke a lady in waiting to run to get the midwife. You were shaking, pain scorching as the baby was starting to get ready to emerge. You knew what would happen, and yet when it began, you felt thrown into the unknown. You were so frightened, you let out screams as the contractions began. They fetched the birthingThere was the delivery, you cried your way through the pain. 

“Harry- where is Harry? Where is my husband? I’m so frightened! Please! Where is he!?” you cried, your vision blurry with tears.

“This is not the place for your husband to be, your Majesty. The Lords thought it best he be kept away for now. But how proud he would be of you now- you’re doing well- the baby’s coming out fine!” the midwife encouraged you. “Keep pushing, my lady! I see the head!”

You were sweaty and disgusting and at your most primal, far from the elegant and regal woman they all saw in public. Blood and fluids, including some embarrassing ones, had come out during the labor which was all being cleaned up after it was spilled.

The hours dragged on in torture. The midwife yelling encouragements through your hot face full of tears. You felt sick, even faint, as you pushed the child out from between your legs. Sitting on the stool with the midwife over, every lady in waiting dabbed your burning forehead and squeezed your hand through each push.

Then, finally, a cry came out. But not from your voice. A baby’s cry. You let out a shaky breath of relief.

 Alive. The child was alive. As were you.

You caught your breath, panting hard. One lady in waiting grinned at you-

“Well done, Your Majesty!” she praised.

You let out a gasp as the afterbirth crawled out. But it was easy and painless compared to a child and slipped easily into the below pot placed for it. A maid grimaced but took it away. You heard the click of a knife as the cord on the child was cut. Another warm cloth went over the tiny, wrinkled newborn as it wailed and wailed. You felt dizzy, the red curtains of your chambers swimming around. Then you came to.

The heir. The heir apparent. Henry’s heir- Henry’s heir was here. The one purpose for which you were made wife to the king was now fulfilled-

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced. 

The child was in the midwife’s arms. your eyes noticed the lower half of the baby’s body. She was correct. 

For a second, your heart stopped. The world stopped. 

There was a slight silence in the room. It wasn’t like the eruptious joy that would have followed had it been the opposite.

The baby still cried heartily. They swaddled her- not the long-awaited him, her. For that was what the baby that was your constant companion inside you for months was. Not the long-awaited male heir for the Lancaster line. No- a daughter. And what is a daughter, but a disappointment?

In those seconds, your mind reeled. Your belly was empty now for the first time in over a year. You had disappointed the nation- there would be no heir to the Lancaster throne. Not yet. You had let down the court. Mothering a son brought special respect and privilege.

And, most of all, worst of all, you let down Henry. The one person you loved most of all. And that hurt the worst. 

The baby wailed. A high, piercing, harsh cry. Ladies in waiting gathered around and fussed. The midwife cleared out the mucus and fluids covering the newborn. Still, the crying rang through the room like harsh bells.

You wondered briefly if it would have been better if you didn’t recover and died from this than face the humiliation.

Wrapping some swaddling over the crying newborn, they handed her over to you.

“Here, hold her, your majesty. She seems a healthy, beautiful little girl,” the midwife announced.

The tiny, wrinkled babe at first didn’t seem beautiful. 

Then the bundle was placed in your arms and the baby stopped crying at once.

You looked down at her.

Something inside you broke.

She was….small. So small for your great pain. Her tiny face, the tiniest little hands, and hte tiniest head. She was fragile. Could you remember when you were brought to court to marry the king? You were just as fragile, as naive, as alone without protection- who knows what would have happened if Henry had been so gentle and patient with you, if you hadn’t grown to fall in love with him and he with you.

She nestled to you, her crying ceasing. Clinging to you. She didn’t know so many things…but she knew you were her mother.

And she trusted you to protect her. 

A new feeling burst on you. You were not afraid of facing humiliation from the men of court…you were afraid of failing her. She reached a hand and began to coo. Making tiny little noises like that of a mouse. You held up your hand and she held onto your finger- settling close to you. 

“Hello, my dear…hello…” you murmured. The pain seemed even more distant. 

Tears came down you again and you felt yourself smile. You loved her. This tiny, beautiful, and unwanted girl.

One lady in waiting reached for you and you barked at them.

“Get away from her! Don’t touch her!” you yelled out, the tears running down your face, your breasts heavy with milk that was not going to be used, and the hotness in your body flushing to anger. You held the bundle closer to yourself.

You understood the instincts of bears, how they would rip men into pieces if they dared tread near the den of their cubs. If anyone- anyone- haughty courtiers that were so stuck in their ways that they had nothing better to do with their time other than harm an innocent child- incapable of fighting, of proper speech, of defending herself- you would have murdered them. And you would have enjoyed it.

She cried only a little, startled by your voice. You rocked her and shushed her, kissing her forehead. 

“Hello, hello- I’m your mother, don’t be frightened, my dear, I’ve waited a while to meet you, shhhh. Mother is here, you’ll be safe. I’m sorry I surprised you, shhh,” you whispered.

The midwife approached you cautiously.

“Your majesty…the baby must be cleaned further. Do not worry- she will be safe…” she assured you. And your good sense one- for the midwife had delivered hundreds of babes and you knew the girl was in good hands.

You looked down again at your baby, still somewhat patched and bloody. For that, you handed her over.

Henry was tending to his stallion in the stables. The white one was his personal favorite. He often enjoyed being the one to hand the horse hay and feel it nibble form his hand. His attendants just beside him to see to anything, wanting to do anything to distract their lord and sovereign as he anxiously awaited news of his beloved wife.

 A lady in waiting arrived inside and their heads turned like deer. She took a few steps forward and curtsied low. Henry gestured for her to rise.

“How is the queen? It was early morn when the birthing began. Tell me- Does she live?” he asked anxiously.

“Her majesty lives. She is delivered of a…a princess,” reported the lady.

There was a slight silence. A greyness washed over the faces of the lords. Frowns remained on their faces, but their eyes were kept on Henry.

Henry took a moment. He was still, his face unreadable. He then replied.

“The babe is fine?” 

“Yes, the babe is fine, born healthy,” she answered.

He broke into a relieved half laugh and smile.

“May- may I see my them?” he asked.

The lady nodded. “Yes, the midwife said you may.”

Henry gave the lady a nod.

“We most heartily accept these joyous tidings, sweet lady. I shall see her anon,” he said.

At once, he broke into a jaunty walk. He burst from the stables, and up the stone steps, through the hallways into his wife’s chambers. He was far faster than some of the stuffier, older lords could keep up with They had a hand on their heads for their hats and puffed as their legs attempted to keep up with their lord.

 Confinement seemed like his sweet angel was torn from him to another world and not another part of the castle. But he bounced up the steps. The sweet temptation to burst through those doors for weeks was finally relieved. 

He at once raised a knuckle and knocked on the doors. There were feminine gasps and murmurs on the other side. 

And another sound, something light, a little voice- that of a baby. And his heart picked up.

There were no servants or lords, so he announced.

“It is his majesty, the king of England.”

One lady opened and they all bowed low. Even the few ladies in the corner trying to get rid of sheets full of blood discreetly. But Henry was a man who had seen battles and once killed the famed Hotspur himself- what was more blood to him?

You laid in your bed, holding the little babe. Your heart racing hard, fighting not to break and cry and yet you found yourself smiling at him. His curls swept back from the wind of his rush and his blue eyes wide as he saw you. 

He came forward and knelt next to the bed in a few short strides. He took your hand in his and kissed it.

“How is my lady?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m fine,” you replied in a choking voice. Glad to see him again, glad you were alive to experience all this.

You looked down at the swaddled child.

“Here is…here is your daughter, my lord…” you presented.

You waited for the stormy look on his face, hoping your smile would relieve it.  But Henry the Fifth merely loosened his shoulders. His jaw dropped then broke into a smile as he saw her.

“May I hold her?” he asked.

You brought her into his arms. She seemed ot know her father, for she settled easily. He rocked her, and kissed her forehead. Happiness beaming everywhere on his face. 

“Mary…that is what we agreed, my lady, if it was a girl…would you still like that to be her name?” he said sofly.

You nodded.

He looked around the crowd. The lord and attendants finally arrived inside, staring with wide eyes.

“Today is a special day- for we celebrate the birth of the Princess Mary. Named in memory of my mother. And we are all going to celebrate. I would like there to be a joust and a feast as well when she is christened, all for the safe arrival of Her Highness, the Princess of Wales- And please note, I want a portrait of the joust commissioned-”

Henry looked back at you sitting up on the bed.

“I want my queen in the center, on a seat- beautiful as she is and shining bright, as a testament of my love for her…”

Folding your hands, you smiled back up at him. Exhaustion and love warming your insides. Joy seeping through to where you thought you would float.

“And I ask for a second portrait be of all of us- for we are now the royal family,” Henry finished.

The courtiers nodded solemnly with plenty of “yes, my lord” repeating from their lips. For none would dare cross the king.

They departed, leaving you both alone for the first time in weeks. Mary wiggled a little in her father’s arms. He sat on the bed and smiled at you. You laid a hand on his arm.

“Harry, all of this fuss! Should you save such grand celebrations for when we have a son?” you asked.

“No, sweetling. Our child is born alive and healthy- and with her in my arms, I’m too overjoyed, that her sex does not matter right now,” he responded.

“But…your heir!” you cried.

He smiled and his eyes lowered to his baby.

“ I have three brothers. There’s more than enough heirs. There’s no need to panic…”

He leaned close.

“And with my lovely wife naked in my bed again… once she is better…how can I resist a night where we can create another beautiful child? Wouldn’t our little Mary be happy having a brother to play with and tease and scold over?”

You playfully shook your head with laughter and swatted his arm lightly.

“My lord, you are unappeasable!” you teased.

“And I have missed you too, my lady,” he replied.

Both of you kissed as May began to cry again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

How incredible a nursery they had built for her. The rockers- two people set up to stay awake all night to rock the baby to sleep- curtsied low. It seemed that despite the disappointment, they were charmed with the sweet little baby. Her little noises that cackled about. Her adorable squeaks that made won people over. How you loved to call her “my little mouse!” when you visited to hold and rock her. For Mary would always nestle and wish to be held. She had no thoughts of being a great Princess of the Sacred Isle yet. She was an infant who only wanted to be cared for and loved.

The joust came and went. The artists got right to work for their commissions. The christening was a holiday throughout the nation. Bells rang as the Bishop blessed Mary in the church with all the nation watching. 

At the feast afterward, many gathered around to glimpse at their new princess, cloaks and hats and long skirts crowding around the official cradle made for state events. It was decorated with the arms of the Lancaster house. Plush red fabrics draped the inside- the colors considered traditional for her father. It measured seven and a half feet long and two and a half feet wide. The guests invited could look at the infant from a safe distance. You couldn’t help but awe at the creation-  all for one tiny baby inside! How small she looked compared to the great size of the thing! They must have thought her a giant child, not a human one!

There was no better, no more doting father than Henry the Fifth. It seemed that the only concern about a male heir came from his courtiers. And their protests and reminders fell deaf on his majesty’s ears. Even in public events where she was placed in the state cradle, Henry would stay to stand guard near it. He was not too much of a man that he was beneath wishing to hold her. He would bend up and use one arm to hold her crimson swaddling. 

“I am the Father of the Nation. Of my subjects, as much as she.” he would declare, one hand up to gently touch his little daughter.

How often you stayed in that nursery, amazed at her. The nursemaids tell you everything about what a baby did and why they did it. For even if she was not yours to raise, your curiosity would get to you- and how much every day she would grow and change! Just a month later and she was big enough you wondered how she got out of you!

One night later at dinner, Henry wished to have her cradle nearby so you could eat with her. Little Mary let out a hearty cry out of nowhere.

You jumped- for it was loud and sharp. She did not wail often in her father’s presence.  But Henry merely tilted his head.

“Now, what is the matter, lambkin?” he asked the baby.

She continued to cry. He picked her up. A hand over her head and her bum, placing her on his arm.

“What troubles you so, Fair little chuck-hm? Would you like a kiss from your father? Would it cheer you?”

He gave her a kiss on her warm cheek. She calmed down a little. Then she began to cry again. Your husband shot up his eyebrows in confusion. But you listened carefully to the quality of the sound of her wailing- this one was low-pitched, repeating its rhythms.

“My lord, the nurses tell me that kind of cry means she is hungry.”

With a smile on your face, you asked a servant to send for the wet nurse. Henry only widened his eyes in awe. 

“Well, my lady, tell me…what have you learned from them about the crying of babes?” he asked in curiosity. 

One day- after certain parliament sessions, you returned to the nursery. You heard her crying again- the sort she did when fussing. For you only wished to…to be with her, see her- for her childhood to be as good a one as you could afford for her.

Once inside, you saw one maid trying to ring her rattle. The other maid held her up to see it. But it was doing no good for little Mary who kept crying.

You walked inside and the little girl paused. She began to smile and kick her feet, her crying ceasing. She was even reaching two chubby arms towards you. 

How could you have hated that she wasn’t a son when she was born? What were you even thinking with such joy and such love this little girl had for you?

Reaching over, you brought her up.

“Hello, my lovely girl, how are you?” you asked. You brought her up to yourself.

 Smelling how well they bathed her. How she was indeed a sweet girl who only wished to be held and loved! You kissed her forehead.

The maids smiled.

“She does that when she misses you,” one reported.

But you never forgot the day you heard her laugh for the first time. It was the fourth month after the birth. Returning inside after strolling the gardens with the ladies, his majesty not being present. You assumed he was discussing something with the Prussian ambassador or shooting his arrows. You passed by the hallway with the nursery. You heard a small sound. Like the tinkling of bells-

It was Mary- her first laugh- you felt a gasp. And another followed- a masculine one right after- a certain laugh you knew like your hand.

Could it be… was it…?

Curiosity overcame you and you opened the door, Henry was sitting on the floor, holding her up above him and she was laughing, clapping her chubby hands. He laughed too.

You burst with love and put a hand over your mouth. The servants watching were flabbergasted. Seeing the sovereign himself playing with her, lifting her in the air and moving her about as she wriggled. You walked in and Henry still held her and leaned up.

“I believe you are enjoying yourself, my lord?” you asked.

“Mary loves it when her father makes her fly like a bird, I discovered,” he said. “You should have seen her with the ambassador's son. So used is she to men with beards, that when the shaven youth stepped forward, she stared at him like a wonder of the world!” he recalled. “Oh, and the little dear is rolling over. She can roll over to one side, but cannot roll back. And when she does, she can only cry in frustration!” he reported excitedly.

You grinned and kissed his cheek. Both of you admiring the new gown on the princess. When there was money left over in the budget, Henry would find ways to spoil her with toys and dresses. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Months passed. You and Henry waited until the time was right, when you were ready for his bed, for acts that would put his seed inside you... But…you were having trouble conceiving again.

You took advice from the physician, recalling every embarrassing martial act out loud to the old man. You devoured certain herbs prescribed to you like a rabbit. Even mixing them into drinks when you could.

Yet…your courses returned as normal.

But you began to wonder…perhaps Mary was the only child you would have. And part of you mourned. Wishing for the large, happy family you both whispered to each other at night early on in your marriage. Secretly envious of women who boasted of their broods so easily conceived. 

One evening, you sat by the fire with your husband and child after dinner. Mary was asleep in the cradle in your private room. You rocked it gently, hoping she would stay asleep when the servants would come to fetch her to her nursery. Already she was big and big, more fussy from the teeth she grew.

Henry walked by you and placed an arm around you.

“What ails you, darling?” he asked.

You looked up at him.

“I am just worried, Harry… if…what if…what if she is the only one I will have…” you mourned.

 Henry looked into it and said. “I think it would be wise if Mary was made my heir.”

You blinked, your jaw dropped.

“What- but husband-I have not a problem with it, but others will! But the parliament, the lords…they will refuse. They will hate her…even hurt her!” you replied.

He remained still, resolute. But his voice was soft. 

“I am their king. My word is law and final. The lords, no matter what they think, must follow as I say…and if she is the one of my line, she is the one of my line…Mary will be queen. A good queen. A queen who will lead England to prosperity.”

The fire cracked more. Both of you looked at the peaceful, sleeping baby. So lovingly tucked into her soft nightdress and snuggled into blankets.

“She can barely talk yet.”

He smiled.

“She has your blood. And if that is the case, then there is no one I trust more than her…”

There was a grand announcement. Shock ran like a storm through the country. Though yes, the lords all complained and bemoaned a female heir, Henry made sure the ceremony was grand. It didn’t matter if they liked it or not, England had its heir. 

There was a grand ceremony. The stony throne room decorated with grand emblems. A crowd gathered as you and Henry dressed in red velvets. Though she was getting a little heavier, you still held her high. Your face raised as every icon of another Mary with Her Child, and just as dignified, perhaps as important.

“I now announce her grace, The Princess Mary of Wales, is the heir to the throne. She shall succeed me- and all of you must honor my wife, Her Majesty, as the mother to your next ruler and honor her highness as the queen to follow,” Henry announced, his beard neatly trimmed and his golden crown beaming on his head.

“Her majesty-Princess Mary. And one day, Queen Mary of England. Long live the queen!” he declared.

“Long live the queen.” the crowd repeated.

It was the day the artist said he would show the works he painted. The small, dark-haired, bearded man went up to the first one, covered in a cloth. He pulled it off with a flourish as all took it in.

The first in the joust showed you sitting on your throne as Henry rode his white stallion to defeat his opponent. You seemed to be glowing. In bright colors that shone when light caught it. Placed in the center where all would see, decorated and beautiful.

The artist went to a second painting covered in a cloth. He removed it.

There stood the three of you standing in the church in bright,  The child in your arms and Henry by your side. The three of you appeared just as grand, even Immortal. 

You had not failed your husband. You had not failed the nation. You had provided an heir after all. And all would be well.

You looked over little Mary, leaning close to press a kiss to her temple and whisper to her.

“Long may you reign, my little dove.”

[anomaly-beans]

IT WAS A SOUTHERN REACH POST ALL ALONG AHAHAHAHA

Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that gather in the darkness and surround the world with the power of their lives while from the dimlit halls of other places forms that never were and never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who never saw what could have been. In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth. The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear, but whether it decays under the earth or above on green fields, or out to sea or in the very air, all shall come to revelation, and to revel, in the knowledge of the strangling fruit—and the hand of the sinner shall rejoice, for there is no sin in shadow or in light that the seeds of the dead cannot forgive. And there shall be in the planting in the shadows a grace and a mercy from which shall blossom dark flowers, and their teeth shall devour and sustain and herald the passing of an age. That which dies shall still know life in death for all that decays is not forgotten and reanimated it shall walk the world in the bliss of not-knowing. And then there shall be a fire that knows the naming of you, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you that remains.

[diejager]

OMG FINALLY!! *muach muach* oh my actually I'm a bit nervous and excited now lolol. Uhm—well since your request is open can I have Pyra head and Michael Myers (separately) chasing survivor!reader in trial but they just ignore the other survivors, solely chasing reader till the end of game. Something dark and lustful lingers around those two killers and you just don't know why! By the end of the game, the other survivors manage to escape to the campfire safely, however reader got stuck alone with the killer. When they finally catch you, oh shall you know all your hopes may shatter to pieces. You think this is the end, in the hands of ruthless killer chosen by Entity. But why their face (in pyra head's case it's his helmet) getting closer to your face and what make it's more confusing something comes out of that mask (i.e. a long tendril similar to tongue). Breath kink but instead of hand choking or strangulation, you choked on their tongue 👅

Feel free to ignore this if you still don't open req for dbd fandom

☀️

You are feeding me ambrosia with this sunnie!!! I have a weak spot for both of them, but-but- the Unknown??? Any thoughts????

Cw: DARKFIC?(it’s dbd, what do you expect??), DUB-CON/NON-CON, predator/prey, implied death, obsessive behaviour, choking?, super long tongue??, size kink/difference, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

You were… unlucky. The Entity seemed to rejoiced in your pain more than any other survivor, feeding on your dashed hope for an escape from the perpetual cycle death and sacrifice, the painful sting on being slashed, the horrifying fate of being killed by the killer’s weapon of choice or the terrifying agony of being hooked. It was a painful affair, being the subject of her perverse protection, locked away in her universe to feed and be fed, blood for blood —quid pro quo.

But at times, your moments in her dark world was warm and charming like the people who gathered at the campfire, sharing their skills and abilities to keep the others alive throughout the…trials. The small moments stolen within the fog to keep yourself up and going, and happy, little smiles and bubbly laughs. It made trials easier, to know that the people who were screaming and working had your back in and out of them, to know what they would do made working in teams better and reassuring. 

And yet- and yet it was all for nought, the killer had eyes for you only, stalking and following you with his arm raised despite the others coming between you two to stop him from maiming you. Unfortunately, The Shape - Micheal Myers - in all his ghostly glory and dirty suit, was a creature of obsession, of predatory possession that gave him a one track mind, tunnelling the person who he chose as his obsession; and you happened to be his choice of madness these last round, even when Laurie was with you. 

There were some pros and cons with his constant stalking, the quiet steps echoing not so far behind you while they worked on the generators, unbothered and safe fro Myers, but you were stuck kitting him, running away from him by jumping over windows and dropping palettes wherever you could stun him to give you just a few more seconds of distance. He grew so, so close on multiple occasions, you felt his breath and his dark and imposing figure behind you, but he never once struck you down with his big knife. 

It wasn’t so bad as long as he didn’t hit you, letting you run around and avoid the other three until they finished all five generators and opened the gates, the bell ringing loudly over your head, and even then, he ignored everyone for you. He, somehow, managed to corner you, to far from both gates and your teammates who you - in a desperate plea for a win - had yelled out to leave and let you find the hatch or run to a gate if things got didn’t worsen. Which had left you alone, ears ringing and head beating against your cage, cornered and afraid of the giant who stared you down with a red gleam in the dark pits of his eyes.

Every step he took backed you up further against the rugged wall of a house - his childhood home - and pressed himself against you, the rough texture of his suit irritating your skin as he dropped the knife to touch you, running over his course fingers down your shoulders. Myers was scarily touchy, pads digging into the fat of your hips, groaning and grunting as he ground against you, drinking in your whimpers and hisses, fists hitting his chest without any result. Was it so surprising? He was a monster, a devil’s spawn, who had you in hands, a uselessly struggling victim that was too weak to stop him. 

His game of cat and mouse came to an end, where you forgot what you were initially doing, choking around his thick fingers, the filthy taste hitting you harshly as his jabs. He pressed his fingers down the back of your throat, panting loudly at your gags and rutting his fattening cock on your navel. You shuddered at the feel of it, the thick bulge threatening to pop a button off his jumpsuit, and you feared, you were terrified at your wandering thoughts, the implication of it when faced with a beast like Myers. 

Ding

Then the final call rang, a long and echoing sound that called the end of the trial. It was quiet for a few seconds, and all you felt was pain, agony ripping through you as The Entity swallowed you up with her many arms. The last thing you saw was Myers bulge, pushed to your bloodied lips and filling your dying nose with a thick and heady musk, a metallic and dusty smell that would linger on your tongue. 

You had hoped that she would give you a second, let you bask in the worry and affection the other survivors gave you, her whispers summoning you elsewhere in a drowning cloud of black fog and sent into your next match, placed somewhere in Midwich Elementary School. The many winding halls and rusted metal worked to confuse the survivors and killers alike, leaving only a selected few who were familiar with this realm. You crossed path with James a few times, but you knew he wouldn’t have given an offering for this, it was a sore memory for him, a reminder of his sins and regrets. So that left a single open left: Pyramid Head, the wandering executioner in the halls of Midwich, sentient and brutal in his ways.

He was a monster everyone feared, something created from the mind of a tortured man rather than a human turned monster, he was born a nightmare and would perish as one. That’s why you hid whenever you heard the telltale sound of his rusted great sword drag across the floor, knowing he had chosen you as his obsession and was actively turning a blind eye to the other survivors. You heard a few screams here and there, but he hadn’t downed anyone, seemingly to prefer leaving them half dead and limping to the next generator or survivor to heal.

You were doing well, working with Jane on the third machine, smiling to each other and sending encouraging glances while you looked over your shoulders from time to time, but your luck had run out. Pyramid Head stumbled your way, his head bobbing over the thick cords of his shoulders and chest, sinewy muscles bulging with every move. You both ran, Jane up the stairs and you down the hall, and he followed you. It was a familiar feeling, being the chased obsession of a killer, singled out by him to be the victim of his choosing.

Unfortunately, The Executioner never truly relished in the hunt, prowling fast and hard, ready to kill whoever he crossed, yet, strangely, he hadn’t raised his great sword, chasing you down a hall and into a dead end. You were fucked. Oh so terribly fucked if your assumptions were right. You turned to face Pyramid Head, fearfully glaring at him, eyes scouring the open space around him for a small point to slip away. You felt your small star of hope extinguish when he suddenly appeared before you, moving faster than he usually would, blocking your way with his body. 

He was hard and warm under your palms, his laboured breathing resting on your shoulder in his dazed wandering, his ripped and bloody and filthy arms brushing against yours and feeling you up. You closed your eyes in terror, trying your best to snuff out your thoughts and the feeling of his touches, his fingers pinching and kneading the skin of your hips and thighs, slipping behind to occasionally feel your ass bend under his strong hands. You whimpered, raking your nails down his arms, trying and failing to stop him from going forward with his wants, turning your head away from him. 

It seemed like he didn’t like that, forcing a gasp out of you when a wet appendage lapped at your cheek, leaving a slimy trail of drool until you reacted to him, gaping and hissing at him; and he took your shock and disgust to his advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You retched, throat closing around his tongue, thrusting slowly to the back of your throat and up to spread over your palate. He lathered your mouth in his drool, willing your smaller and less nimble tongue to push at him, choking down any cries or gags from the sheer disgust that filled your guts (despite the small spike of arousal in your guts). 

You wanted to scream about your situation, this fucked up situation you keep finding yourself with monsters like The Shape and The Executioner. Why you? Why you out of everyone else? You weren’t as significant or strong and determined as other survivors, so it confused and worried you, if they would force themselves onto you again and again until they either broke you or moved onto another poor survivor. But perhaps- just perhaps you could make something of it, seeing the thick pole that poked at your stomach, poking from under his loose loincloth and wetting it with a dark spot at the tip.

You loathed The Entity and her plans. 

[kkachis]

the parasitic brain moss has taken me (pilgrim's progress fanart dump)

@antares-8 i didn't finish any Big things but at least i have some sketches and character models and such... and one (1) storyboard! i figured it was high time i finally unload all this art.

i really want to do an animatic to the song soldier poet king by the oh hellos (i even made a special remix version of it for the project) but i don't know if i have the juice in me for the whole project. but regardless! art will be made! rejoice!

here's me trying to figure out a background art style for the animatic:

here's a pretty tree while i was doing style explorations and also the Characters singing under the tree:

here's some edelflower thoughts:

and here are some smaller sketchies under the cut:

some face shapes! also maybe he can wear it in a braid when it gets long.

and a Perturbed Bird

and here are some of my earliest sketch pages!

i hope you enjoy seeing these even if i never finish a single shot. i think i can definitely do the very first storyboard, though... we shall see!

[redgoldsparks]

February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. You might notice the layout image looks different! I have switched to using the Storygraph wrap up :)

The Baker and The Bard by Fern Haught

A sweet, slight fantasy story focused on friendship. A baker and her friend, an aspiring bard, go on a little adventure into the forest looking for a specific type of mushroom. On the way they encounter some misunderstood magical creatures, a nonbinary fey, and only the smallest amounts of danger and conflict. The gentleness of the story makes it appropriate for, and I believe aimed at, a fairly young audience, definitely middle grade or early reader rather than YA. 

I Shall Never Fall in Love by Hari Conner 

This is a witty, well-written queer romance set in the mid-1800s, England. The story borrows heavily from Emma while still feeling like its own fresh tale, especially because of the inclusion of characters of color, queer characters, and a gender-nonconforming love interest. I was rooting for Eleanor and George all the way; both rooting for them to get together and also rooting for them to find the space to know themselves and express that authentically around the people they love! The art in this book is stunning, with beautiful colors, and so much thoughtful historical research went into the design of the houses, costumes, and world of these characters. Highly recommend, especially if you're a Jane Austen fan. 

Conversations with People Who Hate Me written and read by Dylan Marron 

I picked this book up after loving Dylan Marron's podcast The Redemption of Jar Jar Binks, a 6 episode miniseries that I find myself thinking about all the time. Unfortunately, I do think having listened to that already dented my experience of this book, because I already knew a chunk of the story from the podcast which made listening to the book feel a bit repetitive. However! I still finished and overall enjoyed Conversations with People Who Hate Me, which is about Marron's podcast of the same name, in which he called up folks who had left hateful comments on his youtube videos or facebook and just had a conversation with them. What prompted them to leave a hateful comment? What kind of values impacted how they saw the world? Might they change their mind if they had more evidence? Did they ever expect Dylan Marron to actually see their comment? (The answer to this last was almost always "no.") This is an interesting political moment to think about this project of deliberate, compassionate connection, and Marron is thoughtful about the privilege that allowed him the emotional bandwidth to pursue it.

You and Me, On Repeat by Mary Shyne

Time loop fans, rejoice! Mary Shyne has crafted a clever, gorgeous treasure box of a story. Part coming-of-age, part romance, part sci-fi, all heart. I was drawn in from the very first page, hooked with the stylish art and the intriguing premise. I fell so hard for Chris and Alicia and all of the stupidly teenage and deeply human choices that lead them into a pocket dimension of space-time. Who hasn't wanted a redo option on one of the most important days of their life? What would you do if trapped in a time loop of your high school graduation day? I left the book rooting for these two! I had the pleasure of reading this book early :) It's available for preorder now, or grab it from a bookstore in May 2025! 

You Are a Sacred Place: Visual Poems for Living in Climate Crisis by Madeleine Jubilee Saito

Saito reached a hand into some of my very own darkest climate crisis-induced depressive thoughts and drew me gently back into the light. We are all part of this natural world, and we are meant to be here, and it is good that we are here. Those things can be hard to remember sometimes, but these delicate comics underline their truth. I also got to read this early - It comes out March 25, 2025, so you can reorder it now or find it in bookstores soon.

Hey Mary! by Andrew Wheeler and Rye Hickman

Saints and stories come to vivid life in this compassionate story of a young man learning to balance his sexuality and his faith. For any readers out there trying to find space in their Catholicism for their queerness, I hope this book can light the way. Another one I got to read ahead of it's release! It's out on April 15, so you can preorder or book for it in bookstores and libraries soon.

Akane-Banashi vol 1 by Yuki Suenaga, illustrated by Takamasa Moue translated by Stephan Paul

As a child, Akane watched her father fail out of a program dedicated to training rakugo, traditional Japanese storytellers. Now in high school, she is pursuing the same career under the same teacher. This book has a lot of familiar series-set up elements- a rival older student, a series of fellow trainees, a reluctant mentor- but unfortunate didn't deeply capture me. I'm unsure if I'll continue on with this series.

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat vol 4 by Sakaomi Yuzaki translated by Caleb Cook

THIS SERIES IS SO FREAKING CUTE! I love how it's diving into some of complicated and logistical realities of being queer in Japan. I also love how supportive the friend group is. Yuri fans you need to pick this up! 

Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino 

Adina is born in 1977 to a human mother on Earth; but she is not totally of this world. Some part of her is also an alien, attuned to a planet with a collective consciousness, far away in the stars. Through a lonely childhood in Philadelphia, Adina faxes notes and observations on human life to her far away family. She grows up as the child of a single, working class mother, with few friends, but a fierce commitment to live as her own singular self. I really enjoyed the light-handed prose, the short slice-of-life chapters, and the insightful look at what it feels like to grow up an outsider. Adina reminded me of myself; she reminded me of many of my other oddball, queer, trans, or asexual friends who have always felt out of step with the lives of those around us. It reminded me, yet again, that there is perhaps nothing more human than feeling like an alien among one's peers. 

The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull read by Janina Edwards and Ron Butler 

Set on St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands, this debut sci-fi novel wrestles with some big and weighty concepts. We are introduced to two families, neighbors, with their own interwoven concerns: a married couple struggling with relationship, a woman questioning her sexuality, a teen questioning her faith, a man yearning for more ambitious career and travel options in middle age. Then an alien ship arrives above the island and the book jumps forward 5 years in time to show how a powerful controlling presence has impacted the lives of everyone on the island. The Ynaa offered advanced medicines and technology to humans in exchange for staying for a time to do an unspecified type of research. But the co-existence is not peaceful: the Ynaa lash out with extreme violence over minor provocations. This tense situation cannot last. There was much to enjoy in this novel, and the audiobook was very well read by two narrators. I did think the final act suffered from some pacing issues, and a second time jump near the end worked much less well for me than the big time jump near the beginning. It was interesting to read this after having read Turnbull's second novel No Gods, No Masters which contains similar themes but with a much more complex story structure and much larger cast. 

The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn’t A Guy At All vol 2 by Sumiko Arai

I'm obsessed with these little rock-n-roll lesbians. This series gives me some similar vibes as Nana except sweeter, sillier, and hopefully heading in a much less tragic direction! The art is to die for, I spent so long just looking at every page in awe. Makes me want to draw more comics!

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo and Me by Ellen Forney

This comic has been on my TBR for a decade and I'm so glad I finally picked it up! Forney's cartooning is so clear, articulate and accessible; it really opened up a window for me into the experience of being bipolar. I loved the many creative visual metaphors, the inclusion of sketchbook pages, and the self-compassionate tone. I can see what this book set such an early high standard in the genre of comics memoirs! 

Lone Women by Victor Lavalle read by Joniece Abbott-Pratt

In the opening scene, Adelaide Henry is spreading gasoline through the rooms of her childhood home in a farming valley in California in 1915, and over the bodies of her murdered parents. She leaves California with a rucksack and a steamer trunk, bound for Montana, where a woman alone can claim a plot of land. If she lives on it for at least three years and establishes a farm, she'll become the owner of the parcel. But can she really survive the harsh coming winter, the white supremacy of the nearby town, and the deadly family curse she's carrying? I really enjoyed the audiobook of this novel, but found myself pondering whether or not I felt like it fit into the horror genre, which is the primary genre tag on goodreads. Can a horror book have a happy ending? Is it horror is I don't feel like the narrative voice is trying to horrify me, rather show how marginalized woman can survive, even against extreme odds, by banding together? If I was shelving it I'd more likely to put this in historical fiction. 

The Deep by Rivers Solomon, read by Daveed Diggs 

Yetu is the historian for her underwater society, a group of deep sea merfolk who live in the depths of the Atlantic. She carries all of the memories, beautiful and painful, of their ancestors- pregnant women tossed overboard from ships during the years of slave trading. It is a great honor and a terrible burden to carry these memories, and Yetu thinks it might kill her to carry them alone. When an opportunity comes to leave the memories and her people behind, Yetu takes it. But who is she without her past and her people? I listened to this 4 hour novella on audio and enjoyed it a lot of a mythical alternate history. 

The Hundred Years War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi

"His Majesty's government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine..." -Lord Arthur Balfour, 1917, statement made on behalf of the British cabinet (page 24)

"For in Palestine we do not propose even to go through the form of consulting the wishes of the present inhabitants of the country... The Four Great Powers are committed to Zionism." -Lord Arthur Balfour, 1919, confidential memo to the British cabinet (page 37)

"'If you wish to colonize a land in which people are already living," [Ze'ev] Jabotinsky wrote in 1925, "you must find a garrison for the land, or find a benefactor who will provide a garrison on your behalf... Zionism is a colonizing venture, and therefore, it stands or falls on the question of armed forces.'" (page 51)

"In a cover letter to [President Woodrow] Wilson, the commissioners presciently warned that 'if the American government decided to support the establishment of a Jewish state in Palestine, they are committing the American people to the use of force in that area, since only by force can a Jewish state in Palestine be established or maintained.' The commission thereby accurately predicted the course of the subsequent century." (page 51-52)

This is an extremely well written, clear, concise book. The author draws extensively from primary source documents going back to 1895. His grandparents, his parents, and his immediate family lived through many of the events he outlines; he personally knew Yassar 'Arafat, long time leader of the PLO; he was an advisor to the negotiations between Israel and the PLO which began in Madrid in 1991 and ran (unsuccessfully) into 1993; he lived in Beirut through weeks of Israel bombardment in 1982; he and his father worked for the United Nations in the 1960s and sat through Security Council meetings on the Arab-Israeli conflict, including a meeting in which an intentional US political delay allowed Israel to make a preemptive attack on Syria. These personal anecdotes enliven what is overall a very grim history of broken treaties, broken promises, and conflict. I pulled the quotes because I want to be able to return to them later, to remind myself how clear it has been since the beginning that Britain and the US considered the Palestinian people necessary and acceptable sacrifices. 

[shy-blue-blossom]

Goddess

Record of Ragnarok

"Who invoked Ragnarok?" 

The gods froze at the voice. Some shrank into themselves while others tried to find where the voice was coming from. The Valkyrie stopped dead in their traps. Both Brunhilde and Zeus paled. Poor Goll looked at Brunhilde surprised as she had been going up against the gods and defying them, yet the individual behind this voice could knock her back along with the 'Grandfather of the cosmos'. Mankind was baffled that a single individual could send nearly all the gods into a fanzine. They were terrified of that fact. Goll turned to see if she could find the owner of the voice but screamed when she saw a black shadow behind Brunhilde. She disappeared before Goll could warn her. 

"Zeus, behind you!" Goll could only shout to him when she saw an unidentified individual behind him. 

"I shall ask one last time," Zeus turned his head slowly along with Hades, who had shown up not long before. Both physically paled when they saw who the voice belonged to. Brunhilde was standing stiff with her head downwards next to the individual. 

"Who invoked Ragnarok?" The voice demanded as they were stared down at. 

"My lady," The Colosseum went silent. "I did," The one who spoke up as they bowed towards them.

"Hermes," He stood back up straight to see her watching him from the side of her eye. "I do not appreciate being lied to." 

"I invoked Ragnarok," Brunhilde spoke up after silence hung in the air. She flinched when she was turned upon.

"Why Brunhilde?" There was no emotion in her voice as the question was asked.

"I thought it was the only way to save mankind," Brunhilde looked up. "They were going to wipe them out." She let out the truth as she gestured to the gods. 

"Oh," She finally said after being quiet, trying to hold in how she felt. Zeus finched when she turned to him. He jumped off his chair and knelt in front of her. 

"Forgive me Lady y/n," Gaspe went throughout the Colosseum. Not only had Zeus apologised and kneeled for her, but it was Y/n, Goddess of All. Whispers began. "They were destroying the earth, seas and life overall. To be fair we would have made it quick and simp-"Zeus stopped speaking when he noticed her glare.

"Let me make one thing clear," Y/n's voice projected around the Colosseum as she spoke. "Mankind is not yours to judge. You do not guide the ones who follow you," Many gods finched. 

"If this compaction continues, it will be until one cannot fight anymore. If any of you have any objects you can face me." Silence followed before mankind rejoiced at the relief of not being in danger. Y/n disappeared from where Zeus was still on his knees to the middle of the Colosseum. Three individuals stood behind her. 

She nodded and they made their way to the side. Not even two seconds later, a god attempted to attack. She watched this lesser god as he came from the side with others hiding behind him. She let a sigh out as she raised a hand. Y/n caught his weapon and pushed him backwards, along with the other gods. They all crashed into the wall of the Colosseum. Noticing no one else attempted to engage in a fight, she turned and began to make her way towards a seat. 

"Where were you when we lost Hercules and Poseidon?" Y/n stopped and looked towards the individual who spoke.

"What did you say?" She questioned them.

"Hercules and Poseidon are gone forever because you only just showed up," The ones watching her closely saw her hand twitch as she walked towards the god who spoke up. "You obviously don't care-" His words cut off when she stood in front of him. 

"I would choose your next words wisely," Y/n demanded as she glared at him. "I only knew about this foolish thing when Budda told me. I came as soon as he did. Zeus knew what he was doing when he kept this from me. The only one who does not care for his life is you."

Her seat was then taken after she turned from him. The rounds that followed continued until a fighter could not continue. The winners were decided.

"Brunhilded, Zeus," Y/n voice cut through the air. Everyone turned to her. She lifted her head from where it rested on her hand as she spoke to them. "If you were given a wish what would it be?" No one was expecting her to ask this. 

"More power, no. More women, no. More fighting opponents?" Zeus kept going through things he would ask for and Y/n scoffed in disgust at this. She looked at Brunhilde. 

"I would wish to see everyone again." Brunhilde watched a smile grow on y/n's face along with the three individuals standing beside her. 

"Turn around Brunhilde," She did as told and saw Lu bu and his army, Adam, Poseidon, Hercules and the Valkyrie, her sisters. Goll throws herself at her sisters before at Hercules, crying the whole time. Everyone was gobsmacked but soon started celebrating their return.

"How did you?" Brunhilde asked in disbelief as she watched everyone. 

"I'm Y/n Goddess of All," Was the response she gave them. "It was a wish from the bottom of your heart. However, it helps that it was not their time to go." 

The gods realised how powerful she was. 

The end.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

[traumacatholic]

would you pray for me? i'm really struggling with despair and like a bunch of other sudden mental health issues that i was able to put off for a while but are now back with a vicious vengeance. the only way for me to fix the mental and emotional distress i'm in is to confront the very thing that's triggering it--- which i want to avoid at all costs. i need like miraculous level strength to deal with this. please pray that i can... i don't know. keep moving forwards, i guess, even when i feel like i need to have seven mental breakdowns.

I'm so sorry to hear that you're struggling so much, of course I will keep you in my prayers. And I pray that you are able to find comfort, peace, and safety.

Some prayers that you might find helpful:

Novena to St. Jude - Desperate Situations and Hopeless Cases

Prayers for the Intercession of St. Dymphna

Psalm 51

Morning Prayers to start your day (You may find it helpful to try and find some quiet time for yourself each morning in prayer)

I have some prayers that I typed up here that you may find helpful

I'm going to copy across some typed up prayers that you may also find helpful, they'll be under the readmore

Prayer to Your Guardian Angel O Angel of Christ, holy guardian and protector of my soul and body, forgive me of everything I have done to offend you every day, and protect me from all influence and temptation of the evil one. May I never offend God by my sin. Pray for me to the Lord, that He may make me worthy of the grace of the All-holy Trinity, and of the Most Blessed Mother of God, and of all the Saints. Amen.

Prayers in Time of Need Almighty God, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, come to my help and deliver me from this difficulty that besets me. I believe Lord, that all trials of life are under Your care and that all things work for the good of those who love You. Take away from me fear, anxiety and distress. Help me to face and endure my difficulty with faith, courage and wisdom. Grant that this trial may bring me closer to You for You are my rock and refuge, my comfort and hope, my delight and joy. I trust in Your love and compassion. Blessed is Your name, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.

-x-

O God, our help in time of need, Who are just and merciful, and Who inclines to the supplications of His people. Look down upon me and have mercy on me and deliver me from the trouble that now besets me. Deal with us not according to our iniquities, but according to Your manifold mercies, for we are the works of Your hands, and You know our weaknesses. I pray to you to grant me Your divine helping grace, and endow me with patience and strength to endure my hardships with complete submission to Your Will. Only You know our misery and sufferings, and to You, our only hope and refuge, I flee for relief and comfort, trusting in Your infinite love and compassion, that in due time, when You know best, You will deliver me from this trouble, and turn my distress into comfort. We then shall rejoice in Your mercy, and exalt and praise Your Holy Name, O Father, Son and Holy Spirit, both now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen

-x-

O Master, Lord my God, in Whose hands is my destiny: Help me according to Thy mercy, and leave me not to perish in my transgressions, nor allow me to follow them who place desires of the flesh over those of the spirit. I am Thy creation; disdain not the work of Thy hands. Turn not away; be compassionate and humiliate me not, neither scorn me, O Lord, as I am weak. I have fled unto Thee as my Protector and God. Heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee. Save me for Thy mercy's sake, for I have cleaved unto Thee from my youth; let me who seeks Thee not be put to shame by being rejected by Thee for mine unclean actions, unseemly thoughts, and unprofitable remembrances. Drive away from me every filthy thing and excess of evil. For Thou alone art holy, alone mighty, and alone immortal, in all things having unexcelled might, which, through Thee, is given to all that strive against the devil and the might of his armies. For unto Thee is due all glory, honor and worship: To the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

-x-

Where bitter sorrows overcome us, there will Patience and Rest be revealed.

Where the torment of despair dwells in the soul, there will shine the ineffable Light of Divinity!

Console the fainthearted, strengthen the weak, bestow softening and enlightenment upon embittered hearts. Heal Thine ailing people, O All-merciful Queen!

Bless the minds and hands of our physicians, that they might serve as instruments of the All-powerful Physician, Christ our Savior.

We pray before Thine Icon, that Thou mightest truly live with us, O Sovereign Lady!

Stretch out Thine hands, filled with healing and cures, O Joy of the sorrowful, Consolation in afflictions, that having speedily received miraculous help, we may glorify the Life-creating and Undivided Trinity, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, unto the ages of ages.

Amen.

-x-

O my beloved Queen, my hope, O Mother of God, protector of orphans and protector of those who are hurt, the savior of those who perish and the consolation of all those who are in distress, thou seest my misery, thou seest my sorrow and my loneliness. Help me—I am powerless; give me strength. Thou knowest what I suffer, thou knowest my grief: Lend me thy hand, for who else can be my hope but thee, my protector and my intercessor before God? I have sinned before thee and before all people. Be my Mother, my consoler, my helper. Protect me and save me, chase grief away from me, chase my lowness of heart and my despondency. Help me, O Mother of my God!

Prayers Before Any Task Lord Jesus Christ, my God, You have said, "Apart from me You can do nothing." In faith I embrace Your words, Lord, and I entreat Your goodness. Help me to carry out the work I am about to begin, and to bring it to completion. To You I give glory, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

-x-

Almighty God, our Help and Refuge, who knows that we can do nothing right without Your guidance and help; direct me by Your wisdom and power, that I may accomplish this task and, whatever I do according to Your divine will, so that it may be beneficial to me and others and to the glory of Your holy Name. Amen.

-x-

My Lord and Savior, You became man and labored with Your hands until the time of Your ministry. Bless me as I begin this work. Help me to bring it to completion. Lord, enlighten my mind and strengthen my body, that I may accomplish my task according to Your will. Guide me to bring about works of goodness to Your service and glory. Amen.

Prayer Toward the Unknown O Lord, You who steadied the hand of Peter as he began to sink on the stormy sea, if you are with me, no one is against me. Grant to me the shield of faith and the mighty armor of the Holy Spirit to protect me and guide me to do Your will. The future I put into Your hands, O Lord, and I follow You to a life in Christ. Amen

Prayer for Acceptance of God's Will Lord, I do not know what to ask of You. You know better than me what my needs are. You love more than I know how to love. Help me to see clearly my real needs which I do not see. I open my heart to You. Examine and reveal to me my faults and sins. I put all trust in You. I have no other desire than to fulfill Your will. Teach me how to pray. Pray in me. Amen.

[the-ghost-bird]

Oh what's my gender? It's where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that gather in the darkness and surround the world with the power of their lives while from the dimlit halls of other places forms that never were and never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who never saw what could have been. In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth. The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear, but whether it decays under the earth or above on green fields, or out to sea or in the very air, all shall come to revelation, and to revel, in the knowledge of the strangling fruit—and the hand of the sinner shall rejoice, for there is no sin in shadow or in light that the seeds of the dead cannot forgive. And there shall be in the planting in the shadows a grace and a mercy from which shall blossom dark flowers, and their teeth shall devour and sustain and herald the passing of an age. That which dies shall still know life in death for all that decays is not forgotten and reanimated it shall walk the world in the bliss of not-knowing. And then there shall be a fire that knows the naming of you, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you that remains.

[babyrdie]

[All excerpts used are from E.P Coleridge's translation]

Okay, I've talked about the romantic dynamic between Iphigenia and Achilles in a less popular tradition (compared to the tradition that's all farce and nothing but deception), but I also like their dynamic in Iphigenia in Aulis because I feel like it, to some extent, has to do with the way Iphigenia is both humanized and objectified by the context that's imposed on her. I usually see their relationship being used to make a point about Achilles, but I think it's possible to make a point about Iphigenia as well.

Achilles is willing to cooperate with Clytemnestra from the beginning after they both discover Agamemnon's plan, and he doesn't need to be convinced to help. But they don't have the same goal, not really. Clytemnestra wants to save Iphigenia, but Achilles doesn't seem to be thinking about Iphigenia specifically. In fact, he seems to be thinking about his honor. When Clytemnestra begs Achilles to help her, he responds:

Achilles My proud spirit is stirred to range aloft, butI have learned to grieve in misfortune [920] and rejoice in high prosperity with equal moderation. For these are the men who can count on ordering all their life rightly by wisdom's rules. True, there are cases where it is pleasant not to be too wise, [925] but there are others, where some store of wisdom helps. Brought up in godly Chiron's halls myself, I learned to keep a single heart; and provided the Atridae lead well, I will obey them; but when they cease from that, no more will I obey; [930] no, but here and in Troy I will show the freedom of my nature, and, as far as in me lies, do honor to Ares with my spear. You, lady, who have suffered so cruelly from your nearest and dearest, I will, by every effort in a young man's power, set right, investing you with that amount of pity [935] and never shall your daughter, after being once called my bride, die by her father's hand; for I will not lend myself to your husband's subtle tricks; no! for it will be my name that kills your child, although it does not wield the sword. Your own husband [940] is the actual cause, but I shall no longer be guiltless, if, because of me and my marriage, this maiden perishes, she that has suffered past endurance and been the victim of affronts most strangely undeserved.

So am I made the poorest wretch in Argos; [945] I a thing of nothing, and Menelaus counting for a man! No son of Peleus I, but the issue of a vengeful fiend, if my name shall serve your husband for the murder. No! by Nereus, who begot my mother Thetis, in his home amid the flowing waves, [950] never shall king Agamemnon touch your daughter, no! not even to the laying of a finger-tip upon her robe; or Sipylus, that frontier town of barbarism, the cradle of those chieftains' line, will be henceforth a city indeed, while Phthia's name will nowhere find mention. [955] Calchas, the seer, shall rue beginning the sacrifice with his barley-meal and lustral water. Why, what is a seer? A man who with luck tells the truth sometimes, with frequent falsehoods, but when his luck deserts him, collapses then and there. It is not to secure a bride that I have spoken thus—there are maids unnumbered [960] eager to have my love—no! but king Agamemnon has put an insult on me; he should have asked my leave to use my name as a means to catch the child, for it was I chiefly who induced Clytemnestra to betroth her daughter to me; [965] I would had yielded this to Hellas, if that was where our going to Ilium broke down; I would never have refused to further my fellow soldiers' common interest. But as it is, I am as nothing in the eyes of those chieftains, and little they care of treating me well or ill. [970] My sword shall soon know if any one is to snatch your daughter from me, for then will I make it reek with the bloody stains of slaughter, before it reach Phrygia. Calm yourself then; as a god in his might I appeared to you, without being so, but such will I show myself for all that.

That is, Achilles openly admits that if Agamemnon had asked to use his name and justified it as necessary for Troy to be taken, Achilles would have accepted. He would have been willing to deceive Iphigenia, an innocent maiden who was eager to marry, if it meant that he would go to Troy to achieve his beloved glory. He himself makes this clear in “he should have asked my leave to use my name as a means to catch the child, for it was I chiefly who induced Clytemnestra to betroth her daughter to me; [965] I would have yielded this to Hellas, if that was where our going to Ilium broke down; I would never have refused to further my fellow soldiers' common interest”. Achilles, in literature, is usually presented more as strength than cunning and, in fact, tends to oppose deception. But the Achilles of Iphigenia in Aulis, when he says that he would collaborate with this cunning plan, immediately argues that the reason is that he would be motivated by “my fellow soldiers' common interest”. Sure, one might think that Achilles doesn't seem like someone who would do something he doesn't want to do for the sake of his soldiers, but this Achilles is young and inexperienced (see how he interacts with Clytemnestra in their first meeting, he is even shy to be alone with a woman). He's not the same Achilles we see in The Iliad, an adult in the last year of the war. The Iliadic Achilles is already established in the army, the Euripidean one isn’t and he needs to secure his position. I can believe that he would actively participate in this deception.

Achilles isn’t helping Clytemnestra because he would never sacrifice an innocent maiden, he is helping Clytemnestra because he has been insulted —“Agamemnon has put an insult on me.” It isn’t the aggression directed at Iphigenia, but the insult directed at him that angers him deeply. Because by disregarding Achilles’ consent to the plan, he feels as if he is ignored, as if he doesn’t matter enough to be considered, as if he has no identity at all: “So am I made the poorest wretch in Argos; [945] I a thing of nothing, and Menelaus counting for a man! No son of Peleus I, but the issue of a vengeful fiend, if my name shall serve your husband for the murder.” And if there is one thing that Achilles values, it’s his identity. For it is this identity that brings with it his glorious and famous lineage (so much so that, when denying his identity to himself, he says “no son of Peleus”), that makes him the infamous son of Thetis the Nereid, that makes him a prince, that makes him a descendant of the mighty Zeus, that makes him a pupil of the wise Chiron, that makes him the prophesied warrior. The honor that he values ​​so much is linked to his identity as a person because the achievement of this honor has as its reward the immortalization of Achilles in future generations. A name — one of the strongest identity characteristics — that will be remembered, as well as what comes with it. And what does Agamemnon do when he uses it like this, without considering how he might feel? He transforms Achilles into a tool, a passive object.

But while Achilles is offended by the idea of ​​him as a person being disregarded and instead used as a tool, he unconsciously does something similar with Iphigenia. To him, she initially has no identity. Throughout the play, before the end, several characters interact with each other, but Achilles and Iphigenia aren’t one of these pairs. He hasn’t spoken to her, he doesn’t know her. To him, there is no “Iphigenia the person” there is “Iphigenia the tool in the plan”. He only knows her in the capacity of a passive object, and in this imagery there isn’t enough in Iphigenia to be a motivator for Achilles any more than his wounded honor is. Even when he talks about the sacrifice, Achilles talks about how it affects him “never shall your daughter, after being once called my bride, die by her father's hand; for I will not lend myself to your husband's subtle tricks; no! for it will be my name that kills your child, although it does not wield the sword”. Even when it comes to Iphigenia, Achilles seems to be motivated primarily by himself. Iphigenia is almost like a footnote, just a motivating object of his narrative.

In contrast, when Iphigenia refers to Achilles, she is seeing him as a person. More specifically, she sees him as a potential fiancé, even after she knows about the deception, so much so that she refers to the plan as “our marriage.” One could perhaps say that Iphigenia also doesn’t attribute an identity to him, since she sees him only in the role of this scenario (i.e., fiancé) in the same way that Achilles saw her as “bride”, but I don’t think that’s the case. She is embarrassed by the possibility of seeing Achilles, and why would she be embarrassed if it weren’t because she fears his reaction? And for Iphigenia to fear Achilles’ reaction to the discovery that Iphigenia genuinely thought they were going to get married is because she considered him enough of a person to assume that he might have conflicting feelings about the situation. Iphigenia could have just thought “he was deceived too” and that was that, but implicitly she also thought about how the deception would affect him:

Iphigenia calling into the tent. [1340] Open the tent-door to me, servants, that I may hide myself Clytemnestra Why seek to escape, my child? Iphigenia I am ashamed to face Achilles. Clytemnestra But why? Iphigenia The luckless ending to our marriage causes me to feel abashed.

At the end of the play, however, Iphigenia subverts the passive position imposed upon her. She accepts being sacrificed and, in a way, does so in an attempt to regain her agency. Rather than it being something that was done to her, it’s something that she did. Speaking about her decision, she says:

Iphigenia Mother, hear me while I speak, for I see that you are angry with your husband [1370] to no purpose; it is hard for us to persist in impossibilities. Our thanks are due to this stranger for his ready help; but you must also see to it that he is not reproached by the army, leaving us no better off and himself involved in trouble. Listen, mother; hear what thoughts have passed across my mind. [1375] I am resolved to die; and this I want to do with honor, dismissing from me what is mean. Towards this now, mother turn your thoughts, and with me weigh how well I speak; to me the whole of mighty Hellas looks; on me the passage over the sea depends; on me the sack of Troy; [1380] and in my power it lies to check henceforth barbarian raids on happy Hellas, if ever in the days to come they seek to seize her women, when once they have atoned by death for the violation of Helen's marriage by Paris. All this deliverance will my death insure, and my fame for setting Hellas free will be a happy one. [1385] Besides, I have no right at all to cling too fondly to my life; for you did not bear me for myself alone, but as a public blessing to all Hellas. What! shall countless warriors, armed with shields, those myriads sitting at the oar, find courage to attack the foe and die for Hellas, because their fatherland is wronged, [1390] and my one life prevent all this? What kind of justice is that? could I find a word in answer? Now let us turn to that other point. It is not right that this man should enter into battle with all Argos or be slain for a woman's sake. Better a single man should see the light than ten thousand women. [1395] If Artemis has decided to take my body, am I, a mortal, to thwart the goddess? no, that is impossible. I give my body to Hellas; sacrifice it and make an utter end of Troy. This is my enduring monument; marriage, motherhood, and fame—all these is it to me. [1400] And it is right, mother, that Hellenes should rule barbarians, but not barbarians Hellenes, those being slaves, while these are free.

So Iphigenia is actively trying to gain an active role — I am resolved to die; and this I want to do with honor, dismissing from me what is mean“. She doesn’t want to be Iphigenia, the object, she wants to be Iphigenia, a person with an identity. In the same way that soldiers are motivated to fight out of pride in their Greek identity, Iphigenia is motivated to sacrifice herself out of pride in her Greek identity — “and my fame for setting Hellas free will be a happy one“. Not only that, but her action is motivated by glory to some extent, in a similar way to how Achilles himself is motivated — “I give my body to Hellas; sacrifice it and make an utter end of Troy. This is my enduring monument; marriage, motherhood, and fame—all these is it to me“. In the same way that Achilles will have his identity immortalized, so will Iphigenia, and she knows this when she says “to me the whole of mighty Hellas looks; on me the passage over the sea depends; on me the sack of Troy”. By equating her voluntary sacrifice with the sacrifice of soldiers who are willing to die in the field, Iphigenia regains her autonomy by getting closer to their imaginary. Indirectly, Iphigenia secures her identity in a way that makes her close to Achilles, since, after all, he also accepted death.

And it’s in this identification that Achilles begins to see that Iphigenia isn’t just someone he needs to protect, but someone who has desires of her own. Desires that he admires, in fact. He didn’t admire her before because, before, Achilles didn’t know her…but now that he feels he knows her, he thinks she is worthy of it. Iphigenia, then, takes on a humanized role in his mind:

Achilles Daughter of Agamemnon! some god was bent [1405] on blessing me, if I could have won you for my wife. In you I consider Hellas happy, and you in Hellas; for this that you have said is good and worthy of your fatherland; since you, abandonIng a strife with heavenly powers, which are too strong for you, have fairly weighed advantages and needs. [1410] But now that I have looked into your noble nature, I feel still more a fond desire to win you for my bride. Look to it; for I want to serve you and receive you in my halls; and, Thetis be my witness, how I grieve to think I shall not save your life by doing battle with the Danaids. [1415] Reflect, I say; a dreadful ill is death. Iphigenia This I say, without regard to anyone. Enough that the daughter of Tyndareus is causing wars and bloodshed by her beauty; then be not slain yourself, stranger, nor seek to slay another on my account; [1420] but let me, if I can, save Hellas. Achilles Heroic spirit! I can say no more to this, since you are so minded; for yours is a noble resolve; why should not one speak the truth? Yet I will speak, for you will perhaps change your mind; [1425] [that you may know then what my offer is,] I will go and place these arms of mine near the altar, resolved not to permit your death but to prevent; for brave as you are at sight of the knife held at your throat, you will soon avail yourself of what I said. [1430] So I will not let you perish through any thoughtlessness of yours, but will go to the goddess with these arms and await your arrival there. Exit Achilles.

Achilles describes her as someone who has a “noble nature” and a “heroic spirit,” thus acknowledging Iphigenia’s autonomy. For Achilles, Iphigenia is “noble” and “heroic” because she chooses to sacrifice herself for the sake of the Greeks, something that requires courage from her, and if there is anything Achilles admires, it’s this. She takes an action worthy of recognition. Iphigenia is no longer passive, she is active, and Achilles’ attitude changes to match. Throughout the play, whenever he talks about saving Iphigenia, he negotiates this with Clytemnestra. Before Iphigenia declares that she will be sacrificed, Achilles is actually talking to Clytemnestra and in fact doesn’t even address Iphigenia directly, even though she is there. After her declaration, however, even though Clytemnestra was present and disapproved of Iphigenia's thinking, Achilles addresses Iphigenia (and not Clytemnestra) directly, and although he tries to convince her to give up (claiming that he would try to protect her), he still respects her decision. In fact, he puts the decision in her hands by saying that he will wait for Iphigenia to decide whether or not she wants him to intervene. Thus, Achilles acknowledges Iphigenia as not only someone with an identity, but someone with desires that he cannot override [note: I obviously don’t think that Clytemnestra's disapproval of this is the same as her overriding Iphigenia's desires. Since Achilles isn’t intimate with Iphigenia, it’s certainly much easier for him to accept her decision to die than it is for Clytemnestra, the mother who loves her immensely. But Clytemnestra's taking revenge, however, was overriding what Iphigenia would want].

Of course, one could argue that Achilles accepts Iphigenia's decision because her being sacrificed is to his advantage, as it will allow him to go to Troy. But I disagree. After all, he literally offers to try to prevent this, if Iphigenia so desires. He is willing to go against the will of a goddess, Artemis, and the entire army (as Achilles makes it clear that they tried to stone him for speaking in favor of Clytemnestra and Iphigenia) if Iphigenia wants, and indirectly, he is willing to delay his achievement of glory (since the sacrifice is necessary for him to go to Troy). In fact, Achilles explicitly states that he has come to be seen as someone who is enslaved by marriage. In other words, his reputation has been damaged and he has been viewed in a pejorative manner, but that still doesn’t stop him from offering Iphigenia the option of rebelling against the will of the majority:

Clytemnestra In danger of what, stranger?. Achilles [1350] Of being stoned. Clytemnestra Surely not for trying to save my daughter? Achilles The very reason. Clytemnestra Who would have dared to lay a finger on you? Achilles All the men of Hellas. Clytemnestra Were not your Myrmidon warriors at your side? Achilles They were the first who turned against me. Clytemnestra My child! we are lost, it seems. Achilles They taunted me as the man whom marriage had enslaved. Clytemnestra And what did you answer them? Achilles [1355] Not to kill the one I meant to wed— Clytemnestra Justly so. Achilles The wife her father promised me. Clytemnestra Yes, and sent to fetch from Argos. Achilles But I was overcome by clamorous cries. Clytemnestra Truly the mob is a dire mischief. Achilles But I will help you for all that. Clytemnestra Will you really fight them single-handed? Achilles Do you see these warriors here, carrying my arms? Clytemnestra Bless you for your kind intent! Achilles [1360] Well, I shall be blessed.

Even Achilles’ marriage proposal is different. Previously, he had constantly thought of Iphigenia as a “bride” and had taken the marriage for granted if he could handle the situation. And since Achilles hadn’t even met Iphigenia at the time, his motivation for the marriage wasn’t her per se, but rather to reverse the plan into which he had been unwillingly included. And how can a false marriage be reversed if not by making it genuine? In a way, marrying Iphigenia would also be placing himself as responsible for her, in the ancient view of husbands as responsible for their wives. In this sense, Iphigenia was once again passive. But after her declaration, Achilles, instead of taking the marriage for granted, proposes to her. He leaves the decision to marry Iphigenia up to her—“Reflect, I say; a dreadful ill is death”— and if she doesn’t want it, he will accept. And now he desires Iphigenia as his wife in a genuine way because he recognized in her someone with an admirable personality— “But now that I have looked into your noble nature, I feel still more a fond desire to win you for my bride”. Achilles no longer wants “Iphigenia, a passive object” that he needs to protect if he wants to protect his honor, he wants “Iphigenia, a person with an identity and an active one” because he thinks that having a wife like her would be a blessing — “some god was bent [1405] on blessing me, if I could have won you for my wife”. Achilles even talks about a possible marriage as he serves her in “Look to it; for I want to serve you and receive you in my halls”. She is no longer a symbol of his wounded honor, she is a symbol of glory and if there is one thing young Achilles desires it is glory. She's not a part of the scenery, she's a character.

But Iphigenia chooses to sacrifice herself and Achilles clearly doesn’t contradict her on, as a Messenger actually makes it quite clear that Achilles had an active role in the sacrifice as he spread the water and referred directly to Artemis:

Messenger [1540] Dear mistress, you shall learn all clearly; from the outset will I tell it, unless my memory fails me somewhat and confuses my tongue in its account. As soon as we reached the grove of Artemis, the child of Zeus, and the flowery meadows, [1545] where the Achaean troops were gathered, bringing your daughter with us, at once the Argive army began assembling; but when king Agamemnon saw the maiden on her way to the grove to be sacrificed, he gave one groan, and, turning away his face, let the tears burst [1550] from his eyes, as he held his robe before them. But the maid, standing close by her father, spoke thus: “O my father, here I am; willingly I offer my body for my country and all Hellas, [1555] that you may lead me to the altar of the goddess and sacrifice me, since this is Heaven's ordinance. May good luck be yours for any help that I afford! and may you obtain the victor's gift and come again to the land of your fathers. So then let none of the Argives lay hands on me, [1560] for I will bravely yield my neck without a word.” She spoke; and each man marvelled, as he heard the maiden's brave speech. But in the midst Talthybius stood up, for this was his duty, and bade the army refrain from word or deed; [1565] and Calchas, the seer, drawing a sharp sword from its scabbard laid it in a basket of beaten gold, and crowned the maiden's head. Then the son of Peleus, taking the basket and with it lustral water in his hand, ran round the altar of the goddess [1570] uttering these words: “O Artemis, you child of Zeus, slayer of wild beasts, that wheel your dazzling light amid the gloom, accept this sacrifice which we, the army of the Achaeans and Agamemnon with us, offer to you, pure blood from a beautiful maiden's neck; [1575] and grant us safe sailing for our ships and the sack of Troy's towers by our spears.” Meanwhile the sons of Atreus and all the army stood looking on the ground.

[But the priest, seizing his knife, offered up a prayer and was closely scanning the maiden's throat to see where he should strike. [1580] It was no slight sorrow filled my heart, as I stood by with bowed head; when there was a sudden miracle! Each one of us distinctly heard the sound of a blow, but none saw the spot where the maiden vanished. The priest cried out, and all the army took up the cry [1585] at the sight of a marvel all unlooked for, due to some god's agency, and passing all belief, although it was seen; for there upon the ground lay a deer of immense size, magnificent to see, gasping out her life, with whose blood the altar of the goddess was thoroughly bedewed. [1590] Then spoke Calchas thus—his joy you can imagine—“You captains of this leagued Achaean army, do you see this victim, which the goddess has set before her altar, a mountain-roaming deer? This is more welcome to her by far than the maid, [1595] that she may not defile her altar by shedding noble blood. Gladlyshe has accepted it, and is granting us a prosperous voyage for our attack on Ilium. Therefore take heart, sailors, each man of you, and away to your ships, for today [1600] we must leave the hollow bays of Aulis and cross the Aegean main.” Then, when the sacrifice was wholly burnt to ashes in the blazing flame, he offered such prayers as were fitting, that the army might win return; but Agamemnon sends me to tell you this, [1605] and say what heaven-sent luck is his, and how he has secured undying fame throughout the length of Hellas. Now I was there myself and speak as an eyewitness; without a doubt your child flew away to the gods. A truce then to your sorrowing, and cease to be angry with your husband; [1610] for the gods' ways with man are not what we expect, and those whom they love, they keep safe; yes, for this day has seen your daughter dead and living.

Thus, I genuinely think that Achilles' change in thinking in relation to Iphigenia follows her characterization in the narrative, which changes from passive to active, from a narrative motif to a structured character. This post is, of course, purely my own interpretation, but I feel like Iphigenia is rather unfortunately ignored among the interactions/relationships Achilles has and I don't understand why. I think it's important! Not only is Iphigenia important to Achilles' character, but Achilles is also a narrative element in Iphigenia's character.