#I understand that it means absolutely nothing

[rain-droplet]

I think this is a larger conversation on the concept of forgiveness and what people think it means to do so, and each person might understand it differently. forgiveness to some is absolution of past wrongdoings but for others it's acknowledgement of those actions and of growth, and to others still it's retroactively saying there was nothing wrong done in the first place because everyone now thinks it's okay. these definitions are all deeply flawed, obviously, but they represent how forgiveness is approached, and therefore, what it means to forgive oneself, especially for serious misdoings

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XIX ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily. — genre: yandere, dark!au. — warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy. — word count: 3,364. — tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23. — the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 19

"This is madness, Alexander, and you know it!" Cassander exclaimed, his voice thick with indignation as his eyes flashed with barely contained anger. He fixed his gaze directly on the King, his rigid posture conveying both courage and a dangerous streak of recklessness. In the tent, lit by the flickering flames of the lamps, shadows danced across the fabric walls, reflecting the rising tension.

Alexander looked up from where he sat, his imposing posture, even in repose, exuding authority. His eyes narrowed like blades, and a dangerous expression shaped his face. When he spoke, his voice was low, but filled with a restrained fury that rumbled like muffled thunder.

"Do you disapprove of me, Cassander?"

The silence that followed was deafening. The generals gathered in the tent exchanged uneasy glances, aware that the situation was about to escalate into something irreversible. The air seemed heavier, and the crackling of torches became the only sound that dared to break the tense moment.

Everyone was still much more wary of Alexander after the incident with Cleitus, and for a moment it seemed that Antipater's son remembered that.

Cassander swallowed, instinctively taking a step back. His confidence wavered for an instant, and he seemed suddenly aware of the fatal mistake he had made in confronting Alexander in this manner. The color drained from his face, but his eyes, though hesitant now, still held a hint of defiance.

How stupid.

Before the atmosphere could explode into chaos, a tall, composed figure stepped forward. Hephaestion, the only one capable of calming Alexander’s nerves, intervened with deliberate calm, his voice cutting through the stifling air like a much-needed breeze.

"Alexander," Hephaestion began, his voice firm but tinged with caution. He shot a warning look at Cassander, who returned it with a mixture of anger and humiliation. "What I believe Cassander means," he continued, choosing each word carefully, "is that this decision... Is unwise. Attacking Babylon in this manner, without adequate preparation, could result in catastrophe."

Alexander turned to him, his eyes still shining with fierce determination. The king took a deep breath, as if absorbing Hephaestion's words, but there was no sign of hesitation in his posture. He stood, his imposing figure now completely dominating the space.

"I will not abandon my wife," He declared, his voice brimming with passion and authority. "Our queen is in danger, and every second we wait is an affront to my honor and my love for her. I will not wait another second."

Alexander's words echoed through the tent like an absolute decree. The silence that followed was heavier than ever as those present absorbed the king’s unwavering determination. Hephaestion, though worried, said nothing more, only nodded, knowing that when Alexander made up his mind, there was no force in the world that could change his mind.

Ptolemy, who had remained silent until then, stepped forward, his thoughtful features carefully hiding any trace of doubt. His voice, hesitant but controlled, cut through the tension that still hung in the tent like a suffocating fog.

"All right," He said finally, after a moment of consideration. His hand slid to the central table, touching the maps spread out with an almost reverent caution. The parchments were covered in markings, tracing borders, routes, and fortresses. He studied them briefly before looking up to meet Alexander's fervent gaze.

"Where do we begin?"

Ptolemy's calm tone contrasted with the simmering fury still emanating from the king, but there was a pragmatic acceptance in it that seemed to bring a slight sense of focus to the room. The surrounding generals relaxed slightly, realizing that at least one of them was willing to follow the course Alexander had decided, even if it defied prudence.

Alexander leaned slightly across the table, his fingers pointing to a route plotted along the Euphrates River. His determination was palpable.

"We begin here," Alexander said, his voice firm. "We will march swiftly down the valley, using surprise and speed as our greatest weapons. Babylon will not be expecting a direct attack — and that is why we will win."

Ptolemy nodded slowly, but his expression still held a shadow of doubt. He knew that defying Alexander would be futile, but he also knew that the success of this endeavor would depend on more than bravery and speed.

"Then we need adequate supplies and logistics," Ptolemy stated cautiously. "If we are to move quickly, we will need experienced scouts and a plan to keep the troops supplied. We cannot afford to fail due to lack of resources."

Hephaestion, who was still nearby, crossed his arms and looked at Alexander, as if waiting for the king’s response to Ptolemy's sensible suggestion.

Alexander straightened, his expression unchanging, but there was a flicker of respect in his eyes. He knew he needed men like Ptolemy and Hephaestion at his side, those who could temper his impetuosity with practical wisdom.

"Then see to it that you arrange it, Ptolemy and Hephaestion," Alexander ordered, his voice still thick with authority. "Make the necessary preparations. But know this: we will not hesitate. I want the troops ready to march at dawn."

Ptolemy nodded again, this time with more conviction, and began studying the maps with renewed attention, along with Hephaestion. The room was filled with a mix of movement and tension as each of the generals took their turn in preparing for the campaign.

May the gods be on their side.

Dawn was slowly creeping in, bringing with it an uneasy silence that seemed to extend throughout the royal tent. Alexander sat in a chair near the table, a glass of wine in his hands, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the flickering candlelight. The dark liquid swayed in his cup as he swirled it absently, lost in thought. Anxiety weighed on his chest like a suit of armor he could not remove, preventing him from giving in to sleep.

The solitude of the moment was interrupted only by the occasional crackle of the flames and the soft sound of footsteps in the distance. He knew he should rest, prepare for the imminent march, but his mind would not give him a break. His wife’s face haunted his thoughts, and every second that passed without action felt like a personal defeat.

It was then that the uneasy tranquility was broken. One of the guards at the entrance to the tent appeared, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect before speaking.

"My lord, there is someone who wishes to speak with you." The guard announced, his voice low but firm.

Alexander frowned, irritated by the interruption, but his curiosity was piqued when the visitor's name was revealed.

"Aslan?" He repeated, his voice thick with suspicion. He leaned back in his chair for a brief moment, considering his options, before waving his hand, indicating that the man could enter.

Aslan was an enigmatic figure, and Alexander did not trust him for a moment. There was something about his presence — perhaps the furtive glances, the measured tone of his voice, or the way he always seemed to know more than he should — that made him deeply uncomfortable. There were many rumors surrounding Aslan, and Alexander was not naïve enough to ignore them.

But despite his reservations, Alexander could not deny that Aslan had been valuable. It was he who had brought him the crucial information about his wife's whereabouts, knowledge that none of the king's other allies had been able to uncover. For this, Alexander was somewhat grateful, though that gratitude was tempered by constant vigilance.

Aslan entered the tent with deliberate steps, a hint of a smile on his lips. He bowed slightly, but his posture remained casual, almost insolent.

"Your Majesty," Aslan began, his voice silky but heavy with a subtext that Alexander had yet to decipher.

Alexander raised his cup, eyeing the man like a predator studying its prey.

"I hope you have something important to say, Aslan," Alexander replied, his voice cold and clipped. "I am not known for tolerating pointless interruptions."

Aslan laughed softly, tilting his head as if recognizing the danger in the king's every word.

"Certainly, my King. I would never dare waste your time," He said, taking a step forward and lowering his voice.

Aslan smiled broadly, his teeth gleaming in the flickering candlelight. His posture was impeccable, almost theatrical, as if every movement had been rehearsed for maximum impact. Alexander watched him closely, unease building within him. There was something about Aslan that made him shiver — perhaps it was the intense gaze, or the air of someone who always knew more than he should.

The visitor tilted his head slightly to the side, keeping his eyes fixed on Alexander, like a predator assessing its prey. The silence that followed seemed endless, until Aslan finally spoke, his voice soft but heavy with a weight that pierced the air.

"Your queen is with child."

Those words struck Alexander like a thunderbolt. He did not react immediately, but his hand, which was holding the cup, gripped the object so tightly that it seemed about to break.

Aslan continued, as if savoring every second of the tension his words provoked.

"My sources tell me that she is being well looked after in Babylon," He added, his voice taking on an almost condescending tone. "But as you well know, she is surrounded by enemies. Anyone who wishes to weaken you will spare no effort to use this situation against you." Aslan paused dramatically, his eyes shining with something Alexander could not identify. "I thought you should know."

Alexander stood still for a moment, trying to process the maelstrom of emotions churning inside him. Anger, worry, joy, and protective fury all fought for space in his heart. His wife, his Queen, pregnant, carrying his heir, amid mortal enemies. The mere thought of something happening to her — or the child —was enough to make his blood boil.

"Are you sure about this?" Alexander asked finally, his voice low but filled with an intensity that made even Aslan feel uncomfortable for a brief moment.

"Absolutely." Aslan replied without hesitation, his tone far too confident for Alexander's liking.

The king placed the cup on the table with a controlled movement, but the tension in his body was evident. He took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and Aslan, his eyes fixed like blades.

"If your information is wrong, Aslan, you will answer for it personally." Alexander declared, each word laden with menace.

Aslan did not flinch. Instead, he held Alexander's gaze with an enigmatic smile, as if he were aware of something no one else was.

"I trust my sources, Your Majesty," He said calmly. "But what you do with that information... That's up to you."

Alexander took a deep breath, trying to control the storm raging inside him. The fate of his wife — and now his heir — was at stake. There was no room for error or hesitation.

"Leave." Alexander ordered, his voice icy, though he felt a whirlwind of emotions inside.

Aslan inclined his head in an almost courteous gesture before turning and disappearing through the tent entrance, leaving Alexander alone with the news that changed everything. The king stood still, the candles flickering around him as his thoughts raced.

Alexander felt the weight of Aslan’s words settle over him like a storm about to break. His wife, his queen, pregnant. The concept swirled through his mind, carrying with it a torrent of emotions he rarely experienced so intensely. He looked down at his hands and realized they were shaking. This was not something that usually happened — he, the invincible conqueror, was now shaken by news that should have been a cause for joy.

Happiness. Pride. Fear. Anger. All of these emotions fought for space in his heart at once.

Finally, he would have an heir. A son. A child to whom he could pass on not only his empire, but also his lessons, his vision, and, in some way, his immortality. Alexander felt a pang of pride at the thought. An heir who would carry on his blood and his name, someone who would carry on the legacy he had spent his life building.

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine the child. A son or daughter with (Y/N)'s eyes and her kindness. He imagined teaching the child to ride, to fight, to rule with wisdom and strength. His heart warmed at the thought of this life he could shape and love.

And perhaps, finally, his mother, Olympia, would be silent. He thought wryly of all the letters she had sent him, pressuring him relentlessly to produce an heir. "The empire needs continuity," she always said. As if that were the only reason for him to have a child. Now, he would have the heir she so desperately demanded – but he did not do it for her, or for the empire. He did it because it was with (Y/N), because...

Alexander took a deep breath, trying to order his thoughts that were racing against each other. He loved (Y/N). It was a truth he had never said out loud, perhaps not even to himself. But now, she was far from him. Far from his protection. Surrounded by enemies who could use her and the child she bore as weapons against him.

Fear gripped his heart, quickly turning into cold, dangerous fury. He was Alexander, undefeated in battle, and he would never allow anything to happen to the woman he loved or the child she carried.

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with such force that it nearly fell over. His breathing was heavy, and his fists clenched at his sides. Babylon, the place where (Y/N) was, became, in that moment, more than a military objective or a strategic dispute. It was the place where everything he valued was, everything that truly mattered.

By dawn, Alexander was already shouting orders and preparing to go and get his wife and child. Whatever the cost.

The days in Babylon were heavier than usual. The heat felt suffocating, but that wasn't what was tightening your chest as you stared out your bedroom window. Your hands gripped the balcony tightly, your fingers almost digging into the cold stone. Your eyes were fixed on the horizon, but your mind was elsewhere, struggling to process the news that had arrived earlier.

Alexander was coming.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard those words, but the initial joy soon gave way to a mix of conflicting emotions: hope, worry, and a touch of despair. He was coming to rescue you, you had no doubt about that, but what did that mean for Babylon? For the city that was now seething with panic and preparation? For its people?

You definitely didn’t want to see an entire city massacred and the survivors sold into slavery.

Darius had received the news only a few hours ago, and since then, the tranquility of the city had been replaced by noisy chaos. Soldiers were rushing about, carrying weapons, building barricades, and reinforcing the walls. The raised voices of commanders echoed through the streets, mingling with the sound of hammers and shouts. Supplies were being piled up, and civilians were being forced to work to prepare the city for a siege that everyone knew was inevitable.

The satrap of Babylon, Mazeus, tried to bring some sense to the discussion, arguing that surrender was the only sensible option. He mentioned how Bactria, by capitulating without resistance, had avoided the terrible fate that awaited the stubborn. But Darius, influenced by Bessus — that arrogant fool — rejected the suggestion with disdain.

"Fools," You muttered to yourself, gripping your hands tighter on the balcony. Your eyes closed for a moment, the weight of everything that was to come bearing down on you. "They are all fools."

You knew what Alexander was capable of. He was not just a conqueror; he was an unstoppable force. If Darius and his followers insisted on fighting, Babylon would be razed, its inhabitants slaughtered. Blood would run in the streets, and the walls they now reinforced would be useless against Alexander's military genius.

There was a small hope that if they surrendered, the city might be spared. But you also knew that your presence here complicated everything. Your kidnapping was both a symbol of resistance and a personal insult to Alexander. Even if the leaders of Babylon surrendered, Alexander would show no mercy to those who defied him by taking you from his arms.

You took a deep breath, trying to control the storm of emotions inside you. You felt trapped, powerless, a pawn in a game of power far greater than you. And yet, there was something comforting in the idea that Alexander was coming. He would take on everyone, tear down walls and armies if necessary. Because he was coming for you.

You hadn't quite come to a conclusion about how you felt about him yet, but you knew that you cared in some way. He was your husband, even if forced, and he was the father of your babies. A part of you cared enough.

"Hello."

You whirled around at the sound of Aslan's voice, your heart leaping into your throat with shock. He was there, standing casually near the door, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His posture was relaxed, and his lips curved in a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes. It had been days since you had seen him, and you had been relieved by his absence. But now, he was back. Only the gods knew where he had come from.

"A kiss for your thoughts, my dear?" Aslan asked, his voice calm and tinged with amusement.

You crossed your arms instinctively, trying not to show the discomfort you always felt in his presence.

Aslan tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as his eyes fell on your noticeably rounded belly. His gaze was so intense that you almost cringed.

"You’re getting more beautiful every day, (Y/N)," He commented, his voice low and honeyed, as he leaned casually against the nearby wall and crossed his arms. "Pregnancy suits you well."

You felt your throat go dry. There was something about the way he was looking at you — or maybe the babies you were carrying —that made every instinct in you scream in alarm. Trying to maintain your composure, you straightened your posture and met his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster.

"Aslan," You finally replied, your voice sharp. "What do you want?"

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes sparkled even brighter, as if he’d been waiting for this very question.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," He said, his tone so innocent it was hard to believe. He tilted his head again, his eyes boring into you in a way that seemed to read every thought that passed through your mind. "And, of course, to make sure our future little prince and princess are well taken care of."

You didn't want to know how he knew you were expecting twins or why he assumed it was a girl and a boy. You wanted to ask but knew you would be met with no answer, just rambling.

"I’m fine," You replied dryly, your voice firmer than you expected. "And so are the babies. You don’t have to worry."

Aslan laughed softly, the sound echoing around the room disconcertingly.

"Oh, but I do, my dear," He said, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward you. "You carry something very valuable, something that could change the course of many things."

Your body tensed, and you took a half-step back, holding your head high. "What do you mean by that?"

Aslan stopped, as if realizing he’d reached his limit. He raised his hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender.

"Nothing much, just the musings of a man who likes to watch the game board," He replied with an enigmatic smile. "But for now, I just wanted to say how good it is to see you, and how... Radiant you look."

Aslan glanced at you as he turned his back to leave, but he didn't bother to move.

"Do you want to leave?" His words were calm, but loaded with something you couldn’t identify.

"I... What?" You began, trying to process what he had just said.

Aslan raised his hand, a mysterious smile playing on his lips as if anticipating your confusion. "I mean, my dear," he continued, his voice as soft as a serpent whispering in your ear, "back to your time, to the twenty-first century."

— lady l: I know it took a while to come out but as you know I was sick and busy with personal things, then I got better and got the flu 🤡 but I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I personally really liked how it turned out and forgive me if there are any mistakes.

See you guys soon! ❤️

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Angst Villain x civilian where the villain cheats on civilian with hero

“If it is of any comfort, it didn’t mean that much to me." The villain cocked their head, as if they were thinking about something intensively - which they weren't. They looked at the civilian, but failed to conjure any pity.

Their partner, well, probably ex-partner now, looked at them with wide eyes and tears rolling down their cheeks.

"I-" The civilian's hands were shaking, their face contorted in pain. "What did I- what did I do wrong?"

Their voice was shaking.

"Nothing."

"I..." The civilian took in a deep breath. "Oh god..."

They gasped for air desperately but the villain couldn't help but think about the hero in their bed, moaning lovingly. It was true that the civilian hadn't done anything wrong. They were quite good company to keep around. They were tidy (which was very important to the villain), they were nice, avoided conflict, didn't ask too many questions. The perfect kind of person to keep around, someone who wasn't getting involved in the villain's business.

But when it came to pure desire, the hero was simply more tempting. It was about power.

The civilian wasn't a challenge in bed.

The hero on the other hand...

"Oh god...I can't-" The civilian gasped for air over and over again, coming very close to mimicking a panic attack.

"I can move out if you want, or you do. Whatever you like."

"I wanted to marry you, I - I love you, I..." The villain raised a lazy brow.

"We can still get married if you want to, but I'd like to screw the hero every now and then," the villain said. The civilian turned away, but the villain could obviously tell that they were crying harder now. They would have never brought this up, but unfortunately, the villain had gotten a bit lazy and the civilian had found out about the affair.

It wasn't the end of the world, but the villain had planned to keep the civilian around for a little longer. More than once, they had thought about proposing to the civilian out of pure necessity, but the amount of work linked to that, had spoiled the idea quickly.

"You don't have to decide now," the villain clarified. "It's an option, that's all."

The civilian's back was still turned towards them.

"I had so many plans for us," they whispered, almost mumbled the words. "What did I do wrong, why are you doing this to me...?"

The villain rolled their eyes.

"Like I said, it didn't mean that much to me. They're attractive. They showed up at my work. We fucked on the desk and started to meet regularly." A lot of lies. Technically, they had been flirting with each other for the last year. "Work" meant their usual nightly activities. The thing with the desk was true, though.

The civilian turned around, eyes bloodshot.

"Did they force you? Because they're the hero?" The villain pursed their lips. Interesting. It was probably pretty easy to turn themselves into a victim in this situation (the civilian was by no means rational right now), but they had already admitted that they wanted to meet the hero in the future, so keeping up with that lie was going to be exhausting.

"No," the villain said. "Their ass just looked great that night."

"I don't understand, I thought you loved me?! We've been together for three years..." The civilian wiped away their tears but new tears followed and followed.

"...I like your company, yes."

"That's it?"

Once again, the villain cocked their head, staring at the civilian.

"Come on. A hero. The hero. Who can say no to that? It's a sexual thing. Has absolutely nothing to do with you. You're great." They shrugged. "Stay here. Get some sleep. We can talk about the rest tomorrow."

The civilian stood there, didn't dare to move.

"My love, you must be exhausted."

The civilian took in a deep breath. They nodded.

"There we go," the villain said softly. "You look lovely right now, by the way."

It wasn't that the villain liked being cruel - they just couldn't help it.

[balrogballs]

The Clean Break

a little take on Aragorn and Elrond’s final meeting, a removed scene from Cast in Stone (no context required; it’s canon compliant) that I liked too much to toss.

Aragorn was Estel when he broke his wrist, somewhere between five and six years old. It was a perfectly ordinary break, which happened for a perfectly ordinary reason: he had been running about on a wet floor, slipped, and crashed over a threshold. Elladan and Elrohir had come running at his wails, picked him up and took him to Elrond.

He remembers how Elrond explained to him that it was a clean break, and a very small one — it would stop hurting in a few days if he kept it still. The twins, those ardent connoisseurs of broken bones, had kept up a steady stream of joking patter to distract him whilst their father slowly applied a pain-relieving poultice and began to wrap up the wound.

Estel had been sobbing and sobbing, regardless of how mild the injury truly was. He was only five years old, and was more frightened than hurt, because he had never broken a bone in his life and he did not understand what everyone was doing, did not understand why his arm was being covered in white cloth, and it did hurt quite a lot, so he wailed.

And at some point in the process, he remembers looking up and realising that his father was crying too. Elrond hadn't made a sound, but his cheeks were awash in silent, indecipherable tears. Aragorn remembers how his expression didn't change at all, blank and beautiful in the white afternoon light: wrought from stone like a weeping statue, a quiet miracle, a promise of faith.

He remembers Elladan's tense, barked-out "Ada! What is it? What is wrong? You said it’s a clean break!"

And Aragorn remembers how Elrond had sat back on his heels and smiled, the motion pulling his features back into familiar lines. He remembers sitting silently, watching the last tears fall down the marble face, as Elrond said: "hush, my boy, you will scare Estel. Nothing is wrong, it is only a clean break. He will be fine tomorrow."

"Then why are you in tears?" Elrohir had asked, equally worried.

"Oh dear, am I? Aha, I am. Truly, it is only because he is," Elrond admitted sheepishly, sniffing. He had stroked a lock of hair back from Estel's face, laughing self-consciously, and his voice shook only a little. "I hate seeing him in pain. It breaks my heart seeing him cry so ceaselessly, even for such a small cause. It is only that, Elrohir, do not worry."

At the time, the twins had laughed, teased their father for his softness as they often did, made so many jokes about it that even little Estel, who didn't really understand the fuss and at the time had just probably assumed Elrond had a broken wrist too, was laughing alongside the three of them for absolutely no reason at all. It was casual, domestic, completely ordinary and commonplace as far as his childhood went: there were funnier incidents, sadder scenes, happier conversations.

But for some reason, this one is Aragorn's first real memory. The day he broke his wrist is the scaffolding he built his life atop, the day he looked at his father and found something sacred within him.

________

"I thought for a very long time," Aragorn says, on the tallest tower in Minas Tirith, their final meeting. "About what I could give you as a parting gift."

"If it is anything extravagant," Elrond warns him, raising a finger. "You know as well as I that I will take it to mean you are offering me a bride price, and I will take deep offence."

Aragorn grins, winks: "it's actually less than worthless, financially speaking" and cackles at how Elrond actually looks somehow more offended at that option.

"And what is this less than worthless thing you are donating to the one who raised you all your life?" he raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. "What castoff hand-me-down do you deign to bestow me with?”

"I know you must be weary of rings," Aragorn gestures at Vilya, winking away on Elrond's finger. "But perhaps this one may restore your faith in them."

"I am of a race that thinks nothing: jewels, lives, wars, is eternal," he continues, hair drifting over his face. "Of an old jewelry box my mother had, many trinkets were lost to time, some earrings were without a pair. And such loss of heirlooms never grieved us. After all, they were not ours to grieve."

"The oddest thing in the box was an old, battered golden ring. When I was first given the collection, I was only twenty yet already that ring was far too small for me. I thought that it belonged to a petite woman, perhaps a sister or a mother. Yet more recently, I was thinking of it and it confused me — why would a noblewoman own a cheap, plain ring? The other stones in the box were all precious, valuable, true heirlooms. When my mother died, she told me to pass them on to my children, and I will: but with this ring, I intend to disobey her."

"It was only some weeks ago, as Arwen showed me her own rings, that I realised something," said Aragorn, fishing around in his collar. "That this trinket I carry was no woman's ring, it was made to be worn by a child. You had given me one of these too, if you recall, as per tradition — on my sixth begetting day, a flat gold ring like this with my name carved into the inside. That was when I looked closer at this one, at the inscription on the inside of its hollow."

He unfastens the clasp on the chain, slips a small ring into Elrond's palm. He watches as all the blood leaves the elf's face only to be replaced by a harsh, terrible expression.

"Nothing is eternal, Ada," repeats Aragorn. "But some things should be."

"You are — you are giving me this?" Elrond's voice is strangled, eyes wide. "It —"

"I am. It is not mine to grieve."

Elrond does not say a word, does not even look at Aragorn, instead turning away and walking towards the far side of the balcony where he stood silently, ring clutched tightly in a shaking fist. Aragorn allows him to hold on to dignity.

Dignity, and a small, burnished gold ring.

It was rather battered, some of the plating rubbed off, a groove carved into it from all the times its owner tied it to a string and used it to tease cats with. It had a small dent in the frame, warping it slightly, and if you looked closely you could make out a little tooth mark, as though someone had a habit of gnawing at it. It was less valuable heirloom, more solid proof that the ancient king Elros Tar-Minyatur of Numenor, had once been a messy, careless little boy.

A few minutes pass, in which neither of them speak.

"I had nothing of him," Elrond tells him quietly after a while. "All my life, I had nothing of him at all. It had felt wrong, you see, sailing off to Numenor and demanding his possessions from his grieving children. So for five thousand years, I had nothing of him."

"But I never told you of him," Elrond's voice is searching, harsh and confused, trying to find a justification for the gift. "I had never told you of him, and yes, you had known of him from your lessons but I had tried so hard never to speak of him to you lest you, for one second, thought that I only loved you because you were the heir of Elros. You had no reason to know how I loved him, how fiercely I missed him, how I had nothing of him at all."

Elrond sounds almost angry, wrenching the words through gritted teeth like a scolding, his back still turned to Aragorn: "who made you so kind, Estel? Who made you so selfless — that you — that you give me this without ever being told — that you thought of it — who made you, boy?"

Elrond is breathing in deep, clarifying breaths and Aragorn stands there silently. He does not answer any of the fevered questions. It was Elrond, after all, who once told him over a chalkboard: stupid questions did not deserve answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Ada," says Aragorn at last, when only a sliver of sun is left behind in the sky. "Not for a moment. That is why I had… I had… that is why I had hoped we could have a clean break. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Elrond says, half-smiling as he turns back, composed again yet not entirely unruffled. "But I would rather it hurt in such a way, than it not hurt at all."

"Would you?"

"Of course," Elrond tells him, unconsciously running a finger across the flat, golden surface of the ring he had slid onto his smallest finger. "After all, the most treasured things in the world are only so valued because of how debilitatingly painful it would be to lose them."

Aragorn cannot speak. He has dawdled and delayed, pushed this parting to a cliff-edge, given gifts and made jokes, all the while waiting for a clean break that would never come for those who love like the two of them. He walks forward in a daze, and Elrond takes him into his arms and Aragorn is five again — building a life atop the scaffolding of the heart Elrond offered to him.

"I do not know what divinity made you this way," his father's voice is rough as he repeats his earlier question, but it does not break. "I do not know which of the Valar wielded the knife that carved you out of kindness. But I am glad, Estel, so glad that I know you."

Aragorn stays pressed in that embrace, shaking. He fights a sudden, absurd urge to laugh and roll his eyes, to say don't ask stupid questions, to say who made me kind? oh, I don't know, perhaps the one who loved me so wholly that he beheld a five year old's silly, childish tears, and wept that I shed them at all.

Still, he does not move: he does not want to see Elrond's face, does not want to see his own, not at this moment. Time passes, strains like molasses through linen, slowly and with great reluctance. At last, the king draws away and takes in this final image, the one who raised him standing before his son with an inscrutable expression on his face.

When he was younger, Aragorn used to think it might make it easier for his father to bend with the marred world if he learned how to be as cruel as it was, instead of taking each slap in the face as a surprise. But he understands now that whilst he wasn't looking, the marred world had bent itself to Elrond's gentleness; that it is a strength, an honest one, to be kind when the world not only abides by cruelty but insists upon it.

Aragorn cannot bring himself to turn and leave, wanting to brand Elrond’s face into the back of his eyelids with knife-hot tears. It is anything but a clean break.

“I cannot bring myself to turn,” he admits, the moonlight limning the silver in his hair. “Because when I turn, you'll be gone, and it will be the end of everything. Is this the end of everything now, Ada? Are we done now, you and I?"

Elrond smiles, looking at Aragorn in the same way he had always looked at him, every day since the moment he was put in his arms: eyes bright with unconditional adoration, unashamed pride, and a constant, total faith in him. He shakes his head.

"You and I will never be done,” he says softly; resolute. It is the only oath he ever makes.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Cain thought good and hard about what he wanted. On the one hand there was the possibility of having to deal with the overbearing mess of his father and Charlie. On the other….His mom needed him. That was enough to make up his mind.

Cain: (Nods) let’s go.

Satan smiled at his mate and immediately conjured a portal to where Adam was.

—

Adam screamed as he felt another contraction hit him. It had been so long since he felt a great pain such as this. He didn’t even get periods up in Heaven, because again it was Heaven. Meaning no physical pain. Currently he was lying in a hospital bed, sweating bullets while all the doctors and nurses kept jittering about.

As for Lucifer he was trying his utmost to comfort his mate.

Lucifer: It’ll be alright love just breathe

He demonstrated

Lucifer: Three in, one out. It’s easy

Lucifer regretted those words the moment they came out. Adam turned and for the first time in a while gave him the scariest rage filled expression he had seen since he was still an angel. Possibly worse.

Adam: Lucifer is you want your penis to remain intact by the time our daughter is delivered then I suggest you shut the absolute fuck up!

The words came out in a low growl as his eyes flashed yellow. Adam then went back to trying to block out the pain. After about a minute of that a behemoth nurse came up to him asking if he wanted an epidural.

Adam: W, w, what’s t, that?

Nurse: An epidural your highness is a drug used on delivering mothers so that they won’t be able to feel any kind of pain, just slight pressure.

The nurse suddenly found herself mere inches away from the Queen’s face as he pulled her in and screamed,

Adam: PUT ALL THE DRUGS INSIDE ME!!!!

—

Cain and Satan entered the hospital and spotted Charlie sitting in one the lobby’s chairs with her mate beside her. He marched right up to her and asked in a serious tone,

Cain: What room is my mom in?

Charlie: Cain? What-

Cain: What room is my mom in Charlie!?

Charlie: Delivery room 666 on the third floor.

Cain: Ok thanks!

Cain made a dash toward the elevators leaving all three demons behind. Satan didn’t blame him, he was just worried. Instead he sat down next to his mate’s sister and her mate as they waited. By the time Cain made it he was almost out of breath as he swung the door open. Where the sight of his mother vulnerable while a doctor invected something in him. Cain: MAMA! Adam turned to see his eldest child in the doorway. Tears filed his eyes as a wobbly smile rose from his lips.

Adam: CAIN!

The two once humans rushed to embrace each other. Cain: Oh Mama I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to cause any stress or for my sister to come early. Please, please, please forgive me.

Adam: There’s nothing to forgive. Cain I’m the one sorry for pushing you when you obviously weren’t ready. I just didn’t want discord around our baby. But I know you can’t force people to like each other. Someday you’ll see how much those two love you. But I can’t blame you for being angry at your father for not listening or your sister for not understanding. And I wish I can say more but I’m about to have another contraction so if you’ll excuse me AGHHHH!!!!!

Adam screeched as he rode out the pain. Thankfully, it wasn’t as long as the first ones. It meant the medicine was already kicking in. Cain: Mom is there anything I can do? Like get Dad! Wait where is he?

He noticed the lack of his father.

Adam: He went out to get me ice chips and check on Charlie. Hopefully by the time he gets back the pain meds will have fully kicked in.

Cain watched, completely helpless as his poor mother started to clutch his belly as another one hit him. He winced feeling pain just from seeing his mom in pain. He still remembered back on Earth when it happened. Unless one of them could help they were to remain outside the den. By order of their papa.

When some of his brothers and sisters learn to become mid wives did Cain ms worry slightly dull. However, there was still the heartbreak of not being able to take the pain away. Something that when he learned why it happened made Cain curse the angels. Looking back it was probably one of the reasons they made him commit the first murder. Still Cain wanted to help his mother relax, to ease the attention and get his mind off of the pain. At least until there was none.

An idea popped into his mind like a light bulb. Tenderly he grabbed one of Adam’s hands, the other reaching around to his back and began rubbing soothing circles. Both on his back and hand. He then began to hum and Adam instantly recognized the melody. It was the same one he used to sing to Cain.

As the song progressed Adam’s anxiety dwelled along with the pain. Until finally it was gone at long last. He reached a shaky hand to Cain’s head and tussled his fluffy hair affectionately. Adam: Thank you my sweet baby boy. You’re a good son.

The First Anti-Christ

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(excuse me for the long prologue)

Anti Christ, the child of the fallen one, the devil. Everyone knows of the name and what it means. However, they don’t know of WHO that child is do they? Everyone thinks that the child will make themselves known as they bring on the end of humanity. What people don’t realize is that the anti-Christ has already walked upon the Earth.

In fact he was the first to be born on the planet. You see he was one of the very first humans. The very first child and son of the mother of humanity, Adam the first omega. His name was Cain.

Now many must be wondering on how this came to be. Why did it happen. How and why did the first omega manage to give birth to the fallen one’s offspring. All will be explained here, in this story.

A long, long, long, time ago when the Earth was still young the creator of it had decided on what its final inhabitants would be. They were called humans, the very first of their kind. He made them into something special. With their names came their designations.

Lilith the first woman and alpha

Adam the first man and omega

He made the two to be companions, to watch over another as one would for a friend or as he hoped like siblings. However, his other creations had other plans. While the Lord was busy attending to his purpose of watching over the universe. The other creations, the angels went down to the humans and they told the two that they were more than just companions. They told them that they were mates and they would bring forth true humanity.

Both were confused and asked how? The angels told them that once a month Adam’s womb would welcome Lilith’s seed and instructed him for when the time came for Adam to lay on his back and to spread his legs for his mate. When they heard of this both were rather disgusted by it. They hadn’t known each other for long but they simply weren’t compatible in that way. They couldn’t even bother to be friends for they both had too many differences that often clashed with each other.

While Adam was energetic and outgoing, Lilith was reserved and careful. It would often cause arguments from the two, especially when it came to their duties. Their first duties, of naming and caring for everything in the garden. Lilith thought Adam to be immature. Adam thought Lilith to be demanding. Both seemed to think that nothing was ever good enough for each person. One thing they both could agree on is that they did not wish to be mates.

Still Adam did not wish to upset the angels and simply bowed his head and nodded submissively. They began to explain other sets of rules that both were to follow. Lilith as the alpha was to always provide and care for her omega. Adam as the omega was to always follow her way and submit to his alpha. Both were to bring children into this world.

Lilith would become the father of humanity. While Adam would become the mother of humanity.

Lilith, disgusted at the thought, disagreed wholeheartedly. She fled from the garden and away from the omega. Hoping to never set another foot in there again. She was found by someone, an angel of the Lord himself, whom she would soon call a friend and sometime after that a husband. Though she didn’t trust him at first she eventually told the angel of why she ran from paradise.

The angel was shocked and confused. Why would his siblings do that? Why would they mess with his Father’s creations that way? He wanted so badly to go up there and tell his Father of what they had done to Lilith. He knew that they would somehow find a way to pin the blame onto him.

That is why he came up with a new plan. To meet and talk to Lilith’s supposed mate. What he didn’t know at the time was that the omega was actually his true mate.

He crept into the garden, careful not to aware the elders of his presence. What awaited him in the garden was not what he expected. A true beauty, one that took his breath away. Though he had thought Lilith to be pretty. She was nothing compared to Adam.

His soft brown hair, honeyed eyes that sparkled, and tan skin that was splattered by freckles. His Lucious curves was enough to drive him insane. The angel managed to open his mouth and introduced himself. His name was Lucifer, the angel of light and God’s most favored son.

[brightlyburningstar]

people on the internet piss me the fuck off

i understand the frustration about the jrwi oneshot being paywalled. i'm 100% for pirating it if you cant afford the 5$ tier (assuming its not the what if tier, in which case i too will be pirating it), and I absolutely get being frustrated that they haven't made public riptide content in just over a year.

however

JUST BECAUSE THEY HAVEN'T MADE RIPTIDE CONTENT IN OVER A YEAR DOESN'T MEAN THEY HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING ELSE IN THAT PERIOD OF TIME OR THAT THEY HAVEN'T MADE A SINGULAR UPDATE ABOUT IT!!

I UNDERSTAND WANTING MORE FROM GRIZZ AND WANTING IT BACK ASAP, BUT RUNNING A CAMPAIGN IS A LOT OF WORK!! EVEN A ONESHOT TAKES AN EXTREME AMOUNT OF PREPARATION, SO JUST IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF TIME AND EFFORT THAT GOES INTO RUNNING THE WHOLE CAMPAIGN!! AND ITS NOT LIKE THEY HAVEN'T MADE AN UPDATE ABOUT THE STATE OF THE SHOW THIS ENTIRE TIME!! SURE THEY HAVEN'T BEEN THE MOST FREQUENT BUT AT LEAST WE HAVE A GENERAL IDEA OF WHATS HAPPENING BEHIND THE SCENES.

ON TOP OF THAT THEIR'S ALSO WONDERLUST!! THE CURRENT PUBLIC CAMPAIGN BEING RAN BY BIZZLY!! THE SAME PEOPLE WHO ARE COMPLAINING THAT ALL THE NEW STUFF IS PAYWALLED AND THAT ITS UNFAIR ARE ALSO LITERALLY ACTIVELY TALKING ABOUT PIRATING THE ONE SHOT!! THE LOGIC OF "WELL THEY ARENT MAKING NEW STUFF PUBLICLY AND I CANT WATCH ANY OF IT" IS LITERALLY OUT THE WINDOW BECAUSE THERE ARE PLENTY OF LINKS CIRCULATING AROUND TO WATCH THE PATREON/MEMBERS CONTENT FOR FREE AND THEIR WILL BE SOME FOR WHEN THE CHRISTMAS ONE DROPS!! FUCK IM GONNA USE SOME TO WATCH THE "WHAT IFS" BC I CAN'T AFFORD THE 10$ TIER!!

ALSO FOR THE PEOPLE COMPLAINING THAT THE CHRISTMAS BREAK IS STUPID LET ME REMIND YOU THAT THERE ARE ALSO EDITORS, THUMBNAIL ARTISTS, AND OTHER PEOPLE WORKING ON THE SHOW!! SO JUST MAYBE?? THE BREAK ISN'T JUST FOR THE BOYS?? BUT ALSO FOR THE OTHER PEOPLE BEHIND THE FUCKING SCENES!! AND LET ME REMIND YOU ONCE MORE THAT THE PEOPLE ON SCREEN HAVE LIVES OUTSIDE OF THE SHOW!! THEY HAVE CAREERS!! THEY HAVE RELATIONSHIPS!! THEY HAVE BEHIND THE SCENES WORK FOR THE SHOW LIKE MERCH AND THE WEBSITE!! AND JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN'T PUBLICLY SEE THE WORK THAT THEY ARE PUTTING INTO THE SHOW DOESN'T MEAN THAT THEIR SITTING ON THEIR ASSES DOING NOTHING!!

tdlr: you can be upset about the lack of riptide content over the past year but that doesn't mean you can say shit about the jrwi crew and that they've done nothing over the past year

[tarta-de-limon]

Your depiction of jondami, just Jon and Damian in general is so perfect to me. Like they love each other but absolutely love annoying each other too lol

AAAAH, I'M GLAD! I've read some Jondami/Damijon fics when the moment they're dating Jon turns into a "ohh, I'm so innocent, I don't understand anything :'3" and Damian turns into a : "dw, beloved, I'll protect you🗿"

Not only fanfics but fanarts too

THEY'RE NOTHING LIKE THAT???? SURE, JON IS A CUTIE PATOOTIE BUT HE'S SASSY AS FUCK, HE DOESN'T NEED PROTECTION AND DAMIAN KNOWS THAT??? Sure, he'd still protect him THE SAME WAY JON WILL PROTECT HIM, IT'S MUTUAL.

IF ANYTHING, JON WOULD BE THE MOST PROTECTIVE ONE, C'MON, HE'S INDESTRUCTIBLE AND HIS BOYFRIEND IS NOT, HE CAN SEE THE SCARS AND WOUNDS IN DAMIAN.

And what do you mean they're no longer fighting? C'mon, at least at the beginning there's gotta be fights because Damian just doesn't know how to deal with his emotions and saying them aloud 😭✋ And what about the awkwardness? They're both awkward af because, idk, I feel like going from best friends to dating wouldn't be that smooth for them. Like they're still trying to figure the whole dating thing out.

It's not like it makes me angry tho, although here it seems like it does I JUST GET CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT, GOTTA EXPRESS WHAT I'M FEELING 😭✋

Like sometimes I even find it cute, there's an artist I follow on Instagram, their Jon is very innocent and immature and kind of tantrum like, which I don't think is very close to canon or my perception of the character, but it's cute, yk? Specially the interactions he has with Damian.

I just don't like that for my own art??? Idk if that makes sense. Like, I've read the comics, I know how the character is, and I can't change that, yk? Like my mind already perceives the character like something, and trying to change that something feels kind of odd.

AHHH, I started rambling again. You can see how much I like rambling because this was such a short comment and here I am, writing the bible.

ANYWAYS, thank you so much and I'm glad you like my version of Damijon! Lots of love and have a great day!...or night, or afternoon! 💖💖💖💖‼️‼️‼️‼️💖‼️💖‼️💖‼️💖‼️

[holnnetd]

No rejection under my roof

Tbh, I saw a silly little tiktok and I was like, damn. Me too. So anyway, I'm projecting (it fucking took me ChatGPT to figure out what that word was again) and I truly believe the men are just like that.

So have some silly headcanons:

(I haven't proofread it yet, so sorry for everyone reading this!)

This is only fiction, please remember.

Jonathan Price is... oddly okay with it. You need to work on your career you say? He's sure he could pull some strings. Well, only if you go out with him to that new coffee shop down town. Just to discuss the opportunities of your future. Of course. He's pretty sure he'd look great with a successful lad next to him. He'd show you off, proudly telling that you don't only look godly and make the best spaghetti, but you're also a badass that's hardworking.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick smiles as you deny him, telling you that it's fine and he understands. Until he shows up to your family home one day, chatting up your relatives like they are old friends? You smile kindly, confused as to why he's here and you just hear your family say what a nice boy he is and that he helped them carry groceries one day. Even helped them cook that dish they'd only eat for special occasions. Really, what s weird coincidence. Oh and they want you guys to know eachother? Maybe date? Huh... Really suspicious.

Simon "Ghost" Riley would stand stumped before you, feeling slightly confused and embarrassed at being rejected. Why would you... Reject him? He can't go back to the team after they told him to go for it. He'd stare at you in silence, believing you straight up just didn't hear him. So with a gruff expression he asks again, "would you want to date me?", just to make sure you hear him right.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish is absolutely convinced that "I'm freshly after a break up" means "Please make me forget about him" and he takes it as his personal challenge. Without knowing the reason of Saud breakup, he will blame to ex, saying that he should have watched out better for such a beautiful lad like yourself! What batter way to get on your annoying, bad ex then to send him a video of you getting absolutely fucked into next week by a bigger dick then he could have hoped to have? Really, that would crash anyone's ego.

Alejandro Vargas would be pretty persistent. He's a man of passion and I cannot accentuate it enough, but he would do so much for anyone he likes. He knows that maybe he's about to destroy a 7 year friendship with you, but he really can't stop himself from physically kissing up your hands to pepper your pretty, pretty face with every bit of love. You're precious! Please let him shower you with his love. He might start showing up at your house every day if you don't!

Rodolfo Parra listens carefully as you tell him that you have too much on your plate right now to accept. Really it's too much. And he just smiles awkwardly, handing you the bouquet, "we can eat together if it's that much. Two heads is more then one" he says and if you're not swooned, you don't deserve him. He is by your side to help you out with any problem you might have. Too much to chew? Well, only metaphorically speaking, give some to him. (Please don't literally, I swear it's just a metaphor) There is nothing he can't handle with a little bit of stubbornes and persuasion.

Valeria Garza wouldn't take it to heart. She understands being in any shape of form tied to the mafia has huge risks and maybe not everyone's preference, but she stays open for you to come back. Talking you that she will always help out if there is a problem. And problems did came surely. Someone framed you for stealing? The cops were being awfully rude, gave you a speeding ticket and then someone broke into your house? Bad luck, huh? You can't stay in your house after it being demolished, but you really don't want to risk your family with had luck. So the only way out is to grab the hand and become a mafia bosses spouse. Don't worry, she made sure no one else dared to touch you anymore.

Philip Graves wouldn't take no for an answer. No matter your argument. You have a boyfriend? Doesn't matter, dump him. Philip is better. He has money, a charming smile, even more money, and lawyers that could sweep one dead body under the rug. Maybe 3, if you are as stubborn as he is. But when there is no man in your life? Oh, he's so guilt tripping you with his money into dating. He brought you so many gifts, how can you say no while there is a fresh bouquet of flowers in front of your door with a box of jewellery with his initials somewhere engraved on them?

Farrah Karim. Nah, just why would you reject her, really? Don't. No one would. She's sweet.

Alex Keller doesn't understand what you mean. You see him as family? Good, he's a family man! It sounds to him like you want a family with him, and hell who is he to deny his beautiful girlfriend a family. You want a kid? Sure! You don't want one? You two can settle with a dog for the time being, really. He's an open guy, not really wanting to accept denial. It's not really denial at this point. Family loves eachother! So you two have to do that too. And maybe love eachother in bed.

Vladimir Makarov wouldn't even ask to be dating. He'd send not so vague threats and straight up demand of you to be his spouse. You were kidnapped and threatened with a gun to your head to marry him. Yeah. That's... How it went. Very romantic. It's either a, you die now or you die later with me. And hopefully not being stupid you'd rather live with a terrorist for a while, not having to worry about working until you two die. Maybe separately, maybe if you stay loyal and nice to him he will hold you while either of you dies. That's the most romance you will get from this power driven man.

Now come the fake ahh characters that I especially love:

"König" (of course) would be devastated to hear that you cannot date someone like him. Why is that? Is it the amount of dead bodies he had touched with his hands?? He will wear gloves whenever touching you, of course! Maybe it's because of the scars on his body? Don't worry, he will get tattoos over them so you don't have to see any! Maybe it's how he looks??? He swears he will shave his arms and legs and cut his hair- No! It's because if his height, right Schatz? He's to tall, of course... Well don't worry your head, he doesn't mind staying on his knees. Actually he's quite fond to stay there, as long as your legs are on his shoulders and he gets to press his lips into your flesh. Poor overthinking puppy.

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin is looking at you with a raised brow as you tell him you can't stand him. Well then sit down. He drags a chair over to you, forcing you to sit down on it. You will sit, until you can stand him again. And then you will go on a date. Tired of him? Take a nap, it's not that deep. Hell, maybe a good cuddle session in his bed is what you need! He will drag you to his bed, in uniform or not, force you to lay down before plopping on top of you, making sure you're not tired anymore. Tsk, escaping from the tiger? Please.

[generic-whumperz]

(I’m aware what I have to say is not majority rule, and I understand the need for comfort and support it. But I haven’t ranted on here in a hot minute, so I suppose it’s over due?)

Guess I’m in the smaller minority that absolutely loves and craves a lot of pain and doesn’t need comfort to even the scales (no surprise!). It’s yet to get boring to me or feel too much. But I do sympathize with the concern for pacing, feeling the compulsive need to one-up yourself, and readers’ and writers’ fatigue when it comes to near-constant hurt/torture. As always, context matters as does the very nature of story itself. I’m fine with bleakness and helplessness, it’s oddly cathartic, and that’s comforting to me (yeah ironic that the lack of comfort is a comfort—existentialism who?)

Now for an unpopular stance: forcing “comfort” (whatever that may be) when a character isn’t ready to receive it, feels contrived and corny to me (emphasis on “isn’t ready”—completely subjective, so don’t come at my throat). It can cheapen the character journey and their likely struggles with touch aversion, trust, emotional stability, and the long term effects of captivity and conditioning that comes as a product of the whumping. Healing takes YEARS, DECADES, sometimes even half or a full lifetime. Recovery is MESSY and painful, and includes backsliding while simultaneously unlearning bad thought patterns and finding self worth again. Ouch.

“Comfort” isn’t always, well—comforting. It’s not just blankies, cuddles, and whispers of sweet nothings on a lover’s pillow folks, it’s real hard work that’s grueling as all hell. The aftermath could easily be an extension of the whump—Whump 2.0 if you will.

But hey, if palatable, Band Aid comfort is your thing, have at it by all means. This is a buffet genre, 24/7 at-the-readies, a little something for everyone and you can taste test all you want without paying a dime extra. That is a unique privilege we have here. So, as I am not knocking the whump buffet industrial complex, I hope the same mercy is granted to me as I gorge myself sick over at The Horrors™️.

Having said all this, I’m not any less likely to not read a story because there’s more comfort either, it’s more about vibes first and foremost, and if I give an honest to god shit about the characters and if the interpersonal dynamics speak to me. I’ll read fluff and cutesy shit too (can’t write it though), but usually this has to be a light at the end of the tunnel sort of deal. Take the crawling-on-your-knees and begging-for-a-passive-glance format of a slow burn, now apply it here. Bingo. I just don’t like easy things, I like a fictional struggle and a challenge, and that’s 100% on me and I don’t expect many others to share the same sentiment.

Comfort (in the genre sense) is usually making up for a real lack there of, an unfilled need, an escapist’s desert. And to that I say, the soft serve machine is right this way.

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days and I’d really like to hear people’s thoughts.

Feel free to add your thoughts, I’d really like to hear more about what readers want from their whump. I know I have my own opinions, but I’d love to hear more.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

just wondering, do you know about the cross-collar rule in asian attire? (if not nbd, just thought you might have some interesting thoughts on it in regards to the first ninja)

YES!!! I do actually!!! ;DD Tho admittedly I only discovered it a few years ago and while I 100% incorporated it into my First Ninja headcanons, I didn't have a chance to share it, I guess, haha. ;D

For those curious about the cross-collar rule: Japanese kimono is traditionally worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.

Tho in RC9GN character sheets designs - ALL kimono wearing characters with the right side wrapped over left.

While I have no idea if this was an animation error due to negligence of research, or a deliberate choice with or without that clothing rule in mind (considering they travel to past and technically all people they saw are dead in the future lol), but you sure as hell can believe me that my mind run absolutely feral with that tidbit.

In some of my posts I mentioned my hcs about how First Ninja is incredibly loyal to his Clan and the siblings he lost, about how much survival guilt he must have suffered, and how much effort and energy he puts into making sure that the Ninja - the culmination of all their efforts - must survive and live on, all in order to keep the Sorcerer contained and their newfound home (and the world) safe and secure. To the point that he would immerse himself completely into his role of the protector and erase any other identity that he had left - an incredibly utterly noble and stupidly horrifying gesture of self-sacrifice for the continuous survival of his clan even at the price of his civilian life.

I trust you can see where the cross-collar rule comes into play with this. ;)

Because in First Ninja's mind - he is a dead man walking. Whatever was left of his semi-normal life with his siblings had been slipping away from him with every loss, until there was nothing left but the duty his clan had taken on. Whatever he was before that, whatever he could have been - has been dead for a long time. And contrary to harsh wording I use, I do not really see First regard it as a great loss - it is still a loss, but here comes a rule of 'the sacrifice of one for the good of many' (something this Clan will surely understand) - if anything it would seem like a logical progression for all the events of his life.

There is a reason I built my headcanons around First Ninja as the youngest of the Clan: if your whole life revolved around an important duty, it would not seem like the great sacrifice for you to devote your entire life to it to that kind of point considering all the circumstances. I mean from an outside perspective it is pretty horrible, but when you literally grew up in the situation? Its a different matter.

But the rule also can be interpreted in a more (?) uplifting manner because, if you took notice - his Ninja suit is also wrapped right over left, and in this case I chose to interpret it as not sign of death but rather continuity, an immortality of sorts if you will - because even if what was left of that young Norisu lord is dead - the Ninja will live on through inheritance, and no matter how much time will pass, how many inheritors will come and go - Ninja itself will survive. And isnt that an immortality in itself?

Admittedly while I have a great deal of thoughts about this, I'm not good at sharing my headcanons (even now I reread what I wrote and wonder if its even coherent haha...), and so far I only managed to allude to the cross-collar rule in one of my MIS posts:

Where First Ninja is still a mortal but who wears his clothes like a dead man, and Chase Young is an immortal who would not even think of dying, lol.

But trust me, while Im struggling to express all of that - every time I draw First, that rule and all the angsty implications of it are constantly on my mind. ;)

[theboredhooman]

okay but kame and asa are literally 100% in love i don’t make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

long post overanalysing and yapping about these two lesbians + spoilers for the ‘mononoke: phantom in the rain’ movie! go watch it right now if you can 👹👹

kame is literally asa’s most precious thing.

asa was soo flustered and didn’t want to tell kame about this, even blushing?? like understandable it’s basically a confession

one of asa’s first reactions was always to check if kame was okay whenever the mononoke appeared

sure, it could’ve just been a friend thing, but asa was constantly looking out for kame in the ooku

defending her and taking the blame for all her mistakes and trying to protect her from harm, standing up to awashima and mugitani

asa i know what you are i saw that blush when kame smiled after you told her she could work with you instead of mugitani (I get you she was so cute tho)

”Such neat handwriting” asa’s eyes were so soft it actually broke my heart when i saw awashima cutting kame’s hair

the well scene….just…

asa trying to pull up kame, and kame doing the same for her

also asa being sort of lifeless while she hangs there until kame tells her that ‘it’ll be alright!/I’ve got you!’ and suddenly she snaps out of her shock, gaining emotions again

also it was so cute when they were talking next to each other at night

speaking of which, kame making asa promise to not let go while they sleep and asa adjusting to a more comfortable grip while holding hand was just; auGHHH 😩

ALSO ALSO “Kitagawa made me realise what was important, what I should never throw away,” and then KAME TURNING TO SMILE AT ASA AND ASA SMILING BACK WITH THAT ADORING LOOK IN HER EYES?? (note: there was also minor foreshadowing here with the empty doll cupboard but i think that had more to do with kitagawa)

and the cut off after saying she needed to say something important was really suspicious like what did she say??

idk how this related but afterwards she became more focused and hardworking on her job(but also more rigid and firm in her beliefs) and kame tipped out her water instead of drinking it (because she became the opposite? more rebellious/defiant maybe? idk)

speaking to the medicine seller, she said she understood kitagawa’s feelings, which makes me think kitagawa also had a thing for her friend lol like there was absolutely something going on there if she(kitagawa) fell apart after her friend left

only mildly related but i believe karakasa’s next target was probably going to be kame and she was used as bait for it (as something a redditor* mentioned was asa may have sent kame away to protect her rather than the reason kitagawa did, OR lure out karakasa) edit: nvm i remembered wrong it was utayama i believe (due to perhaps resentment within the doll’s umbrella*) or asa (following the logic that awashima and mugitani were both the head housemaids(?) favoured by utayama before asa, although again the end goal was probably to attack utayama)

also when asa was addressing the other maids of the ooku before the birth celebratory ceremony and bowed, kame bowed but nobody else did (which means they didn’t respect asa)

then kame got mad and showed her support for her girl like hell yeah 👏 and asa gained more confidence which i think was sweet

oh and asa was also like “the thing that kept me grounded was lady kame” 🥹🥹

she also said (acc. to netflix subs) “And yet, I yearned for nothing more than to share meals with Kame. And spend countless nights just staying up late, giggling and talking to her.” SHE SOUNDED SO LOVESICK 💔

btw love how the medicine seller instantly knew asa was looking for her boo lmao

anyways i think it mayyy not have been requited on kame’s side, at least canonically, but I have literally zero doubt asa was in love with her. then again homophobes and censorship. uh. it’s alright i ship them very hard either way i need more lesbian rep in anime hehe.

in conclusion. Harold they’re lesbians. thanks for coming to my ted talk. yeah o7

*redditors talked about the choice of karakasa as the yokai.(i reccomend reading it, it’s very interesting imo)

[piltover-sharpshooter]

Arcane and Character's Breaking Point.

One of the complaints I've seen floating around regarding season 2 of Arcane is that a lot of the characters act in a way they shouldn't. That acording to their characteristics they wouldn't react or do certain actions and they are instead dictated by the plot, and while I don't want to completly disregard that opinion, I think people are forgetting that the show wants you to see the characters as more than just archetypes and instead as real people.

And people have their breaking points, people never act the way they should in stressful situations, even if with the benefit of hindsight or a 3rd person perspective we can opine how they should have handled it, it's only because we are divorced from the moment, away from the emotions and conflicts.

Let's talk Vi. Vi is a great example of this because I'd say she has 3 breaking points.

If you were to describe Vi or look her up in a wiki one of the things you'd find out is that 'Vi is a protector, Vi cares for her family'. And that is factually true, above all else she fights for and to protect her loved ones, and the show highlights this repeatedly, to the point that it's very often detrimental to her. But she's more than just the words 'Protector' tattooed onto her forehead, she is a real human (in the story terms) and so, when pushed to her limit, she snaps, and interestingly in the three different ways.

The most famous one is when she lashes out in anger at Powder, where 75% of her family had been accidentaly killed by the other 25%, and in that moment of just sheer anger pain she commits the worst mistake of her life, and inflicts that pain onto a loved one. Would Vi normally do this? No, absolutely not. But the situation is not normal. And the show points this out, as she regrets it almost inmediately and for the entire rest of the series, and likely much much later. Vi understands, as we understand, that she fucked up, that she failed to protect her family then.

Then there's the second one, where after the attack on the council Vi puts on the enforcer uniform and goes to hunt Jinx. 'She'd never do that', yes she would, because Jinx pushed her away (like she did to her years ago), and in a moment of desperation Vi tries to find a new family in Caitlyn and justifies 'Jinx' as having killed Powder, and the only thing Vi cares about is protecting her family, even if it means doing something she hates, like putting an enforcer uniform and hunt her sister. Vi decides to hold back Caitlyn's worst decisions, and stop Jinx from ruining her sister's memory, she'll protect them from themselves, at the expense of her own desires.

And the final breaking point is when Caitlyn pushes her away, and left with nothing and noone to protect, Vi enters a self-destructing cycle, despite the fact that technically she still has her family out there somewhere to protect. But she can't, she's been pushed to her limit and the protector can no longer find in herself the power to protect. So...she just fights, and drinks, and waits for either to kill her.

These are not out of character, this are completly in character, accepting that she's been strained to her limit in these cases.

And this happens a lot in Arcane:

Why does Caitlyn, who is kind and respects justice, enforce martial law?

Why does Jayce, who tends to let himself be influenced easily, become so focused in his own goal?

Why does Mel, who is so in control most of the time, act so confused and scared?

Why did Vander, who loves his family and friends, tried to drown Silco?

Why does Viktor, who intially put such high importance on human choice, eventually disregarded it?

Why does Ambessa , who puts such value in sacrifice, refuse to sacrifice her daughter?

There's even a point to be made that some characters are in a constant state of being pushed to their limits, compare how Jinx acts normally to her childhood as Powder, the alternative Powder, or hell even Jinx with Isha and away from Silco. Compare Silco from the flashback or alternative universe to the Silco we knew.

What I'm trying to say is that it's better to look at these characters as beyond just the small phrases to describe them normally, and instead try to see them as living breathing people, and ask yourself, would you in a situation where you've been pushed to your limits act as you normally do? Would you, for lack of a better term, 'Remain in character'?

(Thank you so much to @restrainedhungr who proof read and gave feedback to this, helping to iron out some of the points)

[twopoppies]

https://x.com/coolcrying_2931/status/1870886423056011646?s=46&t=KM1Y22XQBNGo6oNfvMQrQQ

A kiss or then confirming it would make her a Larrie again? Okay sweetheart, but that’s part of closeting, they can’t just do that 🤦🏻‍♀️

This makes no sense. So they’re basically saying if Harry and Louis come out, they’ll believe they’re together. But looking at the situation through a lens of closeting doesn’t give you any pause??

I mean, the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. That is, not seeing them kiss or not hearing them say they’re together, doesn’t mean they don’t kiss/haven’t kissed and aren’t/weren’t together.

Also, literally no one is demanding someone prove their PR relationships are real. It’s just painfully obvious that they’re not. And that has absolutely nothing to do with Larry.

What I’ve noticed is that people who joined the fandom 5 minutes ago tend to jump into all of gifs and videos and “proof” head first. It’s heady and romantic and exciting. And they often believe everything and the amount of “evidence” is overwhelming.

Then they’re hit with things that were debunked or theories that didn’t pan out and suddenly they decide none of it is real.

Is it disappointing to find some core “evidence” was faked? Absolutely. I was bummed to realize the “wrapped it myself” video had been spliced together. But if I laid out everything end to end, it still reaches from here to Timbuktu even if you remove everything that’s been proven false.

There’s a lot of stuff floating around that is fake. Or was some fan made joke, but the context is now forgotten, so people use it as proof. I get that that’s super frustrating for newer fans trying to piece things together.

But there is an overwhelming amount of information out there that hasn’t been debunked and there are a lot of people who were here when those things happened and remember it clearly and understand the context in which it happened. It’s very different than looking at pictures after the fact.

I get feeling disillusioned if you took everything at face value, but I’d really be careful who you take information from when trying to sort through stuff. There are plenty of people in this fandom who talk a really good game and know how to make an argument and twist things to suit their agenda. That doesn’t make what they’re saying true. And I mean that for both sides of the aisle.

Sorry this turned into a rant. But this whole idea of throwing the baby out with the bath water makes me crazy.

[yumecel]

Ignorance is bliss 💙

yandere!neuvillette / f!reader | 1.5k words

summary: you always felt something was off about the man you see on the train.

specifics: absolute creep neuvillette, OOC, modern AU

reader specifics: female, she/her woman terms whatever

tws: yandere, stalking, nonconsensual touching, molestation, s/a

Part 1 of Pervert Neuvillette.

[ReadMe 🔗] [1 📍]

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i read the warnings, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know one thousand curses will karmically descend on me should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

You’ve always made a conscious effort to avoid sitting next to the man you always see on the commuter train. Something unsettling surrounds his presence.

Others don’t seem to think so. This is in spite of the fact that he sticks out like a sore thumb, briefcase on his lap, blemishless skin, flawlessly styled white hair, immaculately dressed in suits that change daily, but are always various shades of blue. Around him, the bustle of the general public- more restless, more disheveled- fades into the background. He looks so out of place to you, the kind of person that could definitely afford a taxi, yet you see him almost daily on your morning commute.

And you swear he stares at you.

You try to avoid looking at him.

He gets on one stop after you. Of course, there’s nothing odd about regularly seeing someone on public transportation. He does, however, seem to share the same carriage as you a lot. And perhaps that’s also by coincidence, the regularity of what end of the platform you end up standing on. He’s consistent. So are you. You can’t rationalise going out of your way to avoid the man.

You’d come to regret this.

One morning, the train is packed. Not the most abnormal thing in the world, but definitely a mundane inconvenience to grit your teeth through until you get out. Slipping your bag off your shoulder, you place it front of yourself and shuffle onto the train. You’re forced to stand near one of the doors, watching as the last few available seats are filled.

The next stop, you watch as people get off the train, more waiting outside to get on. Any seats that are freed are quickly filled, and you place yourself into a corner as people begin to step on. You turn yourself so your back faces the open doors, trying to protect your bag just in case. It’s a position that feels safe. Until it doesn’t.

Someone is pressing into your back. Unsurprising, considering how another gaggle of people just boarded. But this body behind you seems to be pressing up against you more deliberately, hot breath tickling your neck. There’s no way to reposition yourself, and you know you have to be understanding of strangers in times like these. All you do is clutch your bag in front of you a little tighter, reaching out to a handrail by your side so that you can steady yourself.

You hear your own name from directly behind you.

Your first thought is that you’re imagining things. It’s a male voice, deep and rich, and certainly not recognisable as anyone in your life. But when you ignore it, the presence behind you leans in closer, that same voice now speaking into your ear.

“Be a dear and let me put my briefcase between your feet.”

You freeze in place, willing yourself to pretend nothing is happening- but a hand begins to press at your waist, stroking upwards and downwards, applying more pressure at it starts to climb up to your chest-

You awkwardly shuffle your feet to accommodate the briefcase, stomach turning as you realise how your legs are now slightly spread and now both of his hands are free to do as they please. He manoeuvres the briefcase between your legs and drops it down, hand drifting dangerously close to your pussy. It’s on its side, meaning not even your knees can squeeze together. You’d never regretted wearing a skirt so much in your entire life. Panicking, you start twisting around- and when you can barely make out the blue suit of the man behind you, everything clicks.

“Good girl. I’m certain you’ve figured out who I am by now, yes? I can’t help but feel like we’ve known each other for years.”

The train begins to move.

One of his hands finds yours on the same handrail, engulfing it. His fingers are slender, but you can’t move your own hand away. His body feels as if it’s been locked to yours, now surrounding you entirely. The other hand moves to rest on your waist, thumb gently caressing back and forth over your shirt. It slowly slides downwards to your hip and you lurch forward- but there’s nowhere to go. Only the cold door of the carriage is in front you, locked shut as the train rattles along. Around you, oblivious bodies sway with it, looking down at phones or into the backs of others.

“I know so much about you, my love…” He says, hand briefly gliding to your rear. The train jostles. You feel him press into your back even more, chest bumping against you as he starts to speak again. It was bad enough that he knows your name- but horror fills your haywire brain as he starts listing off more names- reciting a list of your family members, friends, colleagues, social media handles. Your fingers tighten around the handrail and you shake, tears beginning to well up in your eyes out of fear.

Who is this man?

“Do you feel like you know me too, after all this time?”

You shake your head no, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the noise of the train.

“What a pity. You must be curious, though. I’ve noticed that you avoid looking in my direction.”

His hand glides down your thigh, thumb creeping under your tight skirt. You squeak as your lips tremble, staring out into the darkness beyond the train windows.

“When someone leaves a seat next to me, you’d rather stand. I wonder, what are you so afraid of?”

This. This. This.

With a lack of response from you, his hand continues to sweep across your lower body, desperate to feel every inch.

“You have such a lovely figure ,”He mutters, leaning deeper into you. You hear him inhale through his nose and are unable to suppress a shudder. “And such a lovely scent.”

You feel him bend his head down and lightly kiss your neck, causing you to jerk away from him- as far away as possible. Which is, much to your dismay, barely a few centimetres.

“Did I catch you off guard?” He whispers, retracting himself slightly. You’re still reeling from the kiss when his hand starts to go deeper, to somewhere more dangerous, slipping between your legs. You try to close your them but find it impossible to do fully with the briefcase obstructing your motion. The only thing left to do would be to try and bend forward, still exposing your most vulnerable area to him.

There is no escape.

You realise you’re out of luck when you feel his fingers slip over your panties, eager to explore. Your breath hitches and your face is on fire yet a deathly cold pervades every sensation. Worst of all, your body refuses to move. A single, wet tear rolls down your cheek. It isn’t long before one finger hooks underneath the fabric, stroking clumsily across your bare pussy, dragging itself upwards to your clit. Another finger joins it to rub, applying pressure in a way that would be admittedly enjoyable if not for the circumstances. Self loathing creeps up on you with a particularly pleasurable motion, a disgust at how skilfully the man behind you manipulates your body. You whimper pathetically, a sound that must’ve been audible to him as he lets out a small chuckle. It’s too lighthearted, too friendly, too boldly in contrast with the way his hand shamelessly molests you.

He suddenly stops, pausing for a moment with his fingers resting beneath your pussy. Now, only one finger circles your clit lazily, still sending sparks of unwanted pleasure into your core. “I believe it’s almost your stop. I’ll be in touch with you soon to finish what we started but… ah, where should I put this?”

His hand departs from your crotch, wiping carelessly against your thigh but soon returning with an object in tow. Something sharp causes you to squirm, surely it’s not anything dangerous, surely-

“Steady.” He murmurs.

He slips this object- now recognisable as a small card- into your panties, pressing directly up against your labia. With the card placed, he readjusts your underwear and skirt, still rubbing lightly at your clit over your panties until the train starts to slow. It creaks to a halt as he gives a demeaning pat to your rear, whispering his final message.

“Have a wonderful day, beloved.”

The briefcase is pulled out. He shuffles around. You hear him tell someone to “please, let this young lady exit” but you still avoid looking at him. You only look forward, eyes straight ahead as you try your hardest not to waddle with the foreign object inserted into your underwear. Making a beeline to the nearest public restroom, you breathe in and out, heaving. When you finally sit down on the toilet, you slowly peel off your panties with tears of shame dripping down your face.

Just when you thought you could take no further humiliation, you realise the card is stuck to the fabric due to being saturated with slick. You pry it off, trembling, and what you find is a business-card.

Mr Neuvillette. Epiclese Law Firm. Flipping it over, an address and a number you can barely read with your blurred, tear-filled eyes.

You drop the card to the ground, pressing your face into the palms of your hands and sobbing.

Bzz.

Must be your phone. You don’t care.

Bzz.

Bzz.

Bzz.

You end up rummaging around in your bag, seeing your phone already lit up with new notifications on the screen with every passing second. All are images from an unknown number. And with a rudimentary scroll, you realise all images are of you in various locations, and even various states of undress-

With bile rising in your throat, you turn off all notifications and power it off, staring into the blackness on the screen.

You’re calling in sick today.

[not-poignant]

I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this, but do you think Arden is abusive to Efnisien in FFS? It seems like Efnisien does not like pain yet Arden inflicts pain on him anyway and enjoys it. Can you help me understand?

Hi anon,

Arden is absolutely not abusive to Efnisien. He's probably one of the least abusive characters out there. He is a sadist though.

So, I'm going to be talking about this from the perspective of consent systems, as well as kink, and kinkshaming (which is what you're doing here).

The first thing is no, I can't help you understand if you don't after 770k words of Efnisien clearly consenting to what Arden does to him, feeling free to withdraw consent, being encouraged to withdraw consent, and having Arden constantly check in with him.

The second thing is, it's not your job to understand. That's not what kink is about!! It's your job to accept that someone else wants it and consents to it. This is true in real life as well!

In the world of kink, you are going to come across things that don't make sense to you, where the idea of going through what the other person is going through makes you feel revolted, disgusted, uneasy, or even scared. But you're not the one going through it! You're not the one being asked to consent to it! And therefore, your perspective on it truly does not matter when it's about two other people who have talked about it, negotiated it, consented to it, are consenting to it in an ongoing, informed, engaged manner, and are very clearly happy with what's happening - if not during - then definitely before and after, and aren't asking for anything to change.

These are the basic building blocks of respect in kink society, and it sounds like you don't have them. Which - fair, if you're not in that society, but if you don't want to be someone who kink-shames, it's very important to replace 'I don't understand it therefore it's abusive' (???) with 'I don't need to understand it because they are clearly consenting to it, and where there is consent, communication, and ongoing negotiation, it's none of my business. To assume that what they're doing is wrong or abusive simply because I don't like it is now under the umbrella of kink-shaming, which means I'm the problem here.'

There are many many things in kink that you won't ever understand. I really don't think I can persuade you in one anon response and I don't want to when I wrote nearly a million words about it, y'know?

But I do advise you to make sure that you know that just because you don't like something, doesn't mean this has any impact on what's happening in another person's relationship when there's ongoing, engaged consent. You don't need to understand it, and it's not anyone else's job to make you understand. There's some stuff in kink that I will never want to be around, and I genuinely struggle to see what people get out of it, but - good news - it's not my job to understand! I don't ever have to go through it, and those folks are consenting and living their best lives.

If they're ever not, that won't be about the kink, it will be about ignoring withdrawn consent, or removing someone's consent, or violating their consent.

But other people's kinks aren't about you, they aren't for you, and they don't require your understanding of them, they don't need you to wrap your head around it, in order to not be abusive.

If you can't understand the foundations of consent, negotiation and the overall health and happiness of people in a relationship, I've got nothing anon.

[alairroux]

I was trying to get it done in time this time, I think I managed. I hope you'll like this chapter. Also I'm getting lost in my owm plot because it wasn't supposed to be this long and complicated, please don't hate me.

Chapter XVII

"Desperate measures"

“We can’t let you just take an anomaly like that back home. It’s dangerous and can ruin everything on this Earth. “ 

“FOR THE HUNDRETH TIME, IT’S ALICE, NO ANOMALY FOR FUCKS SAKE” 

At this point, Wade had to be held down by Logan, so he wouldn’t jump at the woman in front of them. Maybe he didn’t understand what that woman meant, or maybe he did and just did not care. He wanted to bring their girl back, but it seemed that more civilized options won’t work. Logan was on the verge of blowing up as well, but for now they had to try and work with TVA, otherwise, they might lose any chance to get Alice back at all. Not even mentioning others they wanted to save as well, after all he really grew fond of Laura, even if he wasn’t hers Wolverine. 

“Mister Wilson, please calm down. For us, your friend is considered an anomaly, Lumithra if you will, and left uncontrolled they might cause only more problems. What you witnessed was one of them. We can’t have just a random time manipulating monster to walk around like that. Especially if they’re not able to control their power.”

“She’s not a monster.” Logan growled through his clenched teeth. “So instead of helping her, you just decided to send her to the Void and call it a day?” 

“You don’t understand. The aftermath of a timeline getting ripped like that will still be present for us to fix, even if it’s an impossible task for now. She killed several of my men and put one of my best doctors into a catatonic state. And that was done on purpose. Are you even aware of what kind of power she holds? That’s why we either exterminate Lumithras or get rid of them.” 

“What the fuck even is a Lumithra? She’s just Alice, a mutant, I know all of you stuck up idiots hate mutants, but that’s not an excuse.” 

Logan growled once more. To think that nothing changed about that in other universes was sickening. You’d think that a different universe, that seemed to be ahead of his old one, still held to that stupid fear was just enraging. What was so wrong about mutants to them? Sure, it was something new and not really that oftenly seen, but that doesn’t mean that mutants deserve to be killed just for what they are. 

“Lumithras are something more than mutants. Like advanced forms of them, their powers being a genetic mutation but of a very different kind. It doesn’t happen naturally, it comes passed down by a being of higher class. They can be mutants if the mutation of the genome was weak, like Jean Grey if you will.” 

“Jean wasn’t weak.” He scoffed immediately. 

“I didn’t say that she was weak, I said that the pass down of her mutation was weak, that’s why she’s considered only a mutant. “

“So… A level five, omega mutant is considered weak towards Lumithra?”

“To an awakened one that has full control, yes. To one like your friend, absolutely not. But we still needed to get rid of Alice, as she had no control over her powers and random outbursts like the one a few days ago, or two years to the future, if you will, would be happening more often. That’s why we needed to get rid of her and we won’t allow you to drag her back. For the sake of everyone else.” 

In the meantime, Logan had to pierce Wade with his claws just to ensure he wouldn't slither away in anger, ready to start another bloodbath there. Logan did understand where this woman was coming from, but if he learned anything from Charles, it’d be that teaching others how to use their powers is more beneficial than hurting them for being what nature made them. So he won’t give up so easily. 

“So what do you plan to do next? If she’s so dangerous, wouldn’t putting her in the Void only aggravate her? What if she breaks out?” 

Logan had to ask, meanwhile Wade calmed down, which was suspicious how his mood switched from an angry man, who was ready to chew his way out of there just to murder someone to calm down, to sitting almost completely still. It honestly freaked out Logan pretty badly. It all seemed like a sudden nightmare. But he didn’t question it for now. Especially after the wink from Wilson, now he was almost curious about what he came up with. 

“She won’t, she’d have to be able to freely switch dimensions to find a way out. Or find Cassandra, but we ensured her teleportation will be far enough from Nova’s place of stay to make sure Alice won’t reach it. It’s definitely more possible that Allioth will get  her way before she even gets close.”

“That bald bitch is alive? I was sure we killed her when we saved the universe.” 

“That’s another thing your dear friend caused, apparently the timeline snap spread over a few dimensions in various waves.”

“Are… others from the Void also back there?”  Wade asked the question that has been heavy on Logan's head. 

“If you’re wondering about the Deadpool variants, X-23 and the rest of the happy group you’ve met last time, we’re trying to reach them, but unfortunately we don’t have the same way of communication as we had back then, but it’s possible considering the fact that Cassandra is also back.” The heavy silence filled the room. “That’s all I can do for you. If we manage to find X-23 I can try to let you know about it. We will consider bringing her back to you. Also the dog. As they seem particularly important to you. And for now, please leave.” 

Did they really have any choice now, anything other than leaving? Not really. At least they were given some kind of hope, of getting back some of their important people. Well, not only people as Marry Puppins was a dog, but the point still stands. Though, giving up felt wrong, Alice wouldn’t give up on them if it’d be the other way around. She’d move sky and earth to get them back, so they had to do the same thing for her. 

“Wolvie…” Wade chimed. “I got their tempad. We can go there and drag her back anyway. Her and others. But… I doubt we will be heroes after that anymore.” 

Wade pulled out the tempad from his pocket, showing it to Wolverine with a silent question etched on his face. Should they try to do that? Was it worth it?

Tap, tap, tap. A sound similar to a dripping faucet was filling Alice’s mind, other sounds slowly drawn out as she followed that weird line. Or line-like feeling budging her mind since the very beginning of this day. So she decided to close her eyes and just focus on it, it was almost like entering some freaky trance. But she managed to stay there, slowly walls of some kind of room were drawn around her. She took step by step, following that feeling even further. 

No, no, no, no, no.  Someone was repeating that like a personal mantra. She headed around the corner just to see her mother curled up on the floor, repeating that word over and over. Hm, so she must’ve not severed the connection fully before ending up in the Void. Alice took a few steps closer, each one of them echoing in different sounds, that she recognized shortly after. They were her own steps but from different times of her life. Bare feet, heavy boots, heels.. All that follows her here. Was it possible that this place had no time to itself, but was hanged somewhere in between the lines of it? 

She stood over the woman, wondering for a moment what to do. Sure, the suffering was definitely well deserved, but that didn’t mean it should be eternal. 

“I just hope you learned your lesson. See me as a monster still, if you will, but I wouldn’t be able to carry the regret of making you suffer forever.” 

Her voice had an echo as well, an undertone of every voice she ever had. Younger, sick, pretend one, that one with sadness and anger. All of them combined into one, the same one that now seemed to stop a curse from happening, as the other woman stopped repeating herself, looking around, as the room fell to pieces, causing Alice to jump in place and wake up. 

“Nightmare?”  Cassandra asked in a much colder  tone than up until now. 

“Something among these lines. Are you seriously still mad at me for comparing you to humans?” 

“No.” 

Bullshit.  Crossed Alice’s mind but she just waved her hand. Another argument would’ve been pointless. Especially now. Solace felt lighter and that weird feeling was gone, but replaced by a sense of longing. Her first few days here were filled with many emotions and new sensations, but as it all quieted down, she started missing those two familiar faces. As much as she hated them for arguing almost everyday and getting blood on everything, now… Everything seemed dull. Was she cursed to bear that feeling forever? There was no way for them to get into the Void, even worse, for them to pull her out of there. Even if there would be, she wouldn’t want them to risk so much just for her and for something like that. It was dangerous and they were much safer on the Earth, away from this place, especially with the fact that Cassandra still despised them. Alice didn’t even have to read her mind to know that it was true. Getting here just to get her back, could end with something they were both sure of, that they were unable to experience. With their death. Just at that thought, Alice could feel a painful squeeze of her heart. She probably would die right after them. 

“Your mind is so heavy that I don’t have to use my powers to sense that something is bothering you. Can you quit mopping around? It’s annoying.” 

Nova was speaking with a tone of an angry child, that is complaining about its sibling breathing their air. Alice couldn’t really bother less about it. The sense of longing was overwhelming. Maybe choosing death would’ve been better than agreeing to stay there and learn from Cassandra? What was she supposed to do now? 

She just got up from the table, walking over to the window, looking out, still letting her thoughts wander. She really was missing those lazy  mornings when she was on the balcony and the boys were in the kitchen, movie nights, even arguments of some stupid things, or a competition of who can say more down bad thing. That one was always bringing a lot of laughter and sometimes a weird feeling of being ashamed about what just came to their mind. 

“Alice. Stop. “

“Wish I could…” 

“What even is getting you into something like this? I thought I can’t hate you more than I hate you when you talk a lot, but this is way worse, because it’s your mind that won’t shut up.” 

“Well I’m sorry I’m just a human and it’s human to miss people who are important to you. You haven’t missed a single thing in your life ever before?!” 

“And what or who would I miss? This is my life since day one. This. Nothing more.” 

Alice stopped in place, just looking at Cassandra. Sure, she knew it was like that, but the reality of it sinking in was even more powerful honestly. Like a blow to her chest, pushing all air out, 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sure.”  

“No, I mean it… I’m sorry. I… I forgot to use my brain, it seems.”  She walked closer, sitting down by Cassandra. “I didn’t mean that…” 

She was looking at the woman in front of her, trying to find anything on her face, any indicator of any type of feelings, even if they weren’t the positive ones, anything that would give her an answer. 

“Cassandra… Please. I really didn’t mean that. I-I know no one stayed there for you, no one was there and you had to rely on yourself, but… You know I’m not leaving, right? Not only because it’s impossible, but I promised, after all.” 

“Like that would stop you. Humans promise things all the time just to break that promise, thinking that a simple sorry will fix it.” 

“No. I mean it, if you don’t trust me, use your powers. Check it for yourself. Have some proof. “

She said before she could even think about it. Cassandra rolled her eyes and raised her hand, keeping it up for a few seconds, before putting it on Alice’s temple. Alice slightly winced at that unpleasant and cold feeling, but didn’t pull away. Nova could sink into her mind freely, look for anything she wished to see. And she could see that among all that longing for her old life, Alice was telling the truth. She was staying there, unless her leave will be forced, everything was only proving her truthfulness. Her heartbeat, her mind, her eyes. Only now, Cassandra caught onto the dark eyes peering right into hers, but they weren’t carrying any anger. They were soft, like they wanted to prove to her that she was there not for something malicious, but to actually be there. To stay. Nova could feel a slight tremble in her hand, a weird weakness, that resulted in anger sparking in her. 

“It’s okay. Don’t be mad, all is okay…” 

Alice spoke to her. Softly and slowly, her warm breath brushed against her hand, causing those little hairs to stand up for a moment. Such a weird moment of vulnerability, something she despised in herself, but now, it felt right. Solace.  Maybe the solace was never meant for her to keep but to give, to be what she had written in her name.