#Myth History Regret

[gingermintpepper]

Little idle thought I've been having recently but I think Cyparissus' story is very important for characterising Apollo and Apollo's love. It's so easy to think of love and loss as two ends of a spectrum, likewise, so often, death is seen as an ultimate and tragic end in love stories - something final and inescapably tragic, the only force that halts love by separating the lovers.

Cyparissus' story is... not that. Yes, the deer dies and one can conclude then that death is once more at the heart of separating two lovers, but I think Cyparissus specifically requesting to die, specifically begging Apollo to let him grieve forever even after Apollo has done his best to help Cyparissus move on from the accident and Apollo letting him is a powerful thing.

Because Apollo not only puts Cyparissus' wishes over his own, he's also able to see past his own building grief to immortalise Cyparissus in such a way that both grants him his wish and allows other people to glorify Cyparissus as well! And I think such a beautiful thing is something criminally overlooked!

It's become something of a joke that 'all Apollo's lovers turn into plants' but from a functional perspective, flowers are the most brilliant way to keep the spirit of a beloved thing alive. Flowers are like stars - as long as there are humans, humans will always contemplate the nature of flowers and as the god of poetry and song, Apollo creating opportunities for his beloved mortals to be remembered eternally even if they never seized glory in the traditional way is such an intimate and beautiful thing. Even then, Cyparissus is elevated to a similar status as Daphne with Apollo's actions - not merely a plant or flower but one that specifically symbolises him, one that is extremely fragrant and beloved by him. Just as Daphne's laurels were synonymous with glory and victory, Cyparissus' cypress became a emblematic of grief and remembrance. Even today, thousands of years later, people still view cypress trees as mourning trees and plant them in cemeteries and use the ash in incense burnt in remembrance of others. How's that for Apollo keeping his word.

[ovrarches]

God I wish I took more classes I was interested in while I was in school :(

[heritageposts]

During the recent “March for Israel” in Washington, DC, Al Jazeera interviewed a confident young man from Connecticut about the war in Gaza. Draped in an Israeli flag, Charlie appeared ready to answer any question. He made it clear from the outset that the ongoing war is not “Hamas vs Israel”, but “Hamas vs the whole world”. He said he regrets children’s deaths and prays for innocent lives lost. But he had no doubt about who is responsible for the death of civilians in Gaza. While Israel does everything to avoid civilian casualties, he said, Iran-backed Palestinian terrorists bomb their own hospitals, use civilians as human shields, and even place kids next to rocket launchers. Iran and its proxies are the source of all evil in Palestine and the region, he added. Charlie has clearly done his homework. He has studied the Israel Project’s “Global Language Dictionary [PDF]”, memorised its lines, and repeated them verbatim, not missing a beat. The playbook was created in 2009 after Israel’s first war on the besieged Gaza Strip, to guide Israel’s supporters on how best to speak to the media about the conflict. Inspired by Israel’s leading spin doctors, such as Shimon Peres and Benjamin Netanyahu, it is directed at young activists, as well as politicians, pundits, journalists and more. It tells its readers what to say, and what not to say, alerting them to words that should be used and others that mustn’t. One of my favourite tidbits in the playbook, as I wrote back in 2014, goes like this: “Avoid talking about borders in terms of pre- or post-1967, because it only serves to remind Americans of Israel’s military history. Particularly on the left, this does you harm.” And when civilian casualties mount during wartime in Gaza, the playbook recommends talking empathetically along these lines of “All human life is precious”, but emphasising that “it is a tragedy that Iran-backed Hamas shoots rockets at our civilians while hiding in their own” and that this “causes tragic deaths on both sides”. Sounds familiar?

. . . continues on Al Jazeera (20 Nov 2023)

PDF of the Israel Project’s "Global Language Dictionary"

[wooahaeproductions]

Forging the Threads of Time

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of Greek myths, mentions of death and sickness, kissing, smut (grinding, unprotected sex, sort of sub!Wonwoo, classroom sex, penetrative sex)

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Taglist: @black-swan-blog27 @fullmindlady @bbybnnuy

A/N: Well, this certainly was a labor of love and I really wish I'd had the time to expand on this world further but I really hope you enjoy reading this. I was honored to be a co-host of The 13 Gods of Olympus collab with Aeris @beomcoups and write this piece for it.

A big thank you to my beta readers for making sense of this: Jupiter @cheolism, Tara @diamonddaze01, and Haneul @chanranghaeys 💕

Lastly, thank you Sevn @aaagustd for the most beautiful banner. ~Maren

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he met you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. The first time he sat at your bar, you took one look at him and said, “You look like you could use a strong drink,” and proceeded to pour him a whisky.  He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and when you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then he got the courage to ask you on a date. He began to court you. Frequent dates turned into a committed relationship, which turned into the two of you living together, and eventually marrying each other. That day of your marriage was the happiest out of all his lives. He didn’t know how, but being with you healed wounds that Aphrodite, his first wife in Olympus, had left him with. 

For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal. 

And then, you became ill and his new world collapsed.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of him seeing you walking down the aisle when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamt of you in decades, or at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal; a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

Wonwoo sighed, flinging an arm over to cover his eyes for a few seconds. He waited in early morning silence before turning over to see the time on his bedside clock. He groaned, realizing it was twenty minutes before his alarm for work sounded. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this point. Pushing the dreams to the back of his mind, he flipped off the covers and begrudgingly rolled out of bed. 

Wonwoo taught welding and metalworking at the local art college, and today was the beginning of the new semester. He had planned to be there early to make sure everything in his classroom was in order, but now he was kind of regretting that decision thanks to his disrupted sleep. 

He got dressed in a nice button-up and some slacks he had set out the night before. If he was a teacher for a more fancy subject like literature or history, he might have worn a suit. That didn’t fit his personality though. Before his banishment, working with metal and fire had been his whole life; it was part of his identity and something he found he didn’t want to change.

He paused in his bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and glance at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy before going down the hall to the living room. He grabbed his briefcase of class materials that were left on his desk when he finished planning the semester out last week and grabbed his phone from the charger that was there as well.

Finally, he made his way to the entry of his apartment and grabbed his welding helmet, gloves, and heavy-duty apron from the console table along with his keys before heading out the door. He took a quick glance at the time on his phone before pocketing it. He had plenty of time to grab coffee at the little shop near campus. 

Wonwoo had never been a breakfast person, so it was always a cup of coffee, usually an Americano in the morning. The only exception was the very rare occasion when his friend Mingyu, who happened to be the god Hestia and the owner of a nightclub on Earth, would make him breakfast.

Reaching his truck in the parking lot, Wonwoo unlocked the doors and put all his teaching items in the passenger seat. He then got in the driver’s seat and when he put the key in the ignition, he was met with the classical music he had on when he was last in the car, specifically Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. He wasn’t much of a music person because it changed so much; He’d rather listen to things that hadn’t changed in the hundreds of years he had been earthbound. 

He pulled out of his parking spot and started to drive toward the coffee shop. Autumn was beginning to edge out the summer, the leaves on trees and bushes near the sidewalks were slowly turning orange and red.  Wonwoo had noticed there was a slight chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. 

It was also Fall when he met you for the first time. Another thing that he chose to try to ignore and force to the depths of his brain, but a clenching in his heart and the feeling of helplessness happened anyway. He continued to stifle it down as he drove.

A quick few minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot at the cafe. It was a little busier than usual, most likely due to it being the start of the new semester and more students were stopping by to get their caffeinated pick-me-ups. He got out of his truck and walked inside the shop, the door making a ringing sound to indicate a person had come in. 

Wonwoo was very much a regular at the shop and before he could even think about getting in line, one of the baristas held up a to-go cup to indicate his drink was ready for him and set it by the register for when he got to the front of the line. They were moving quickly and it didn’t take long for him to get there. 

“Good Morning, Wonwoo. Here is your Americano,” the girl at the register said as she handed him the drink and punched the correct codes into the register. 

He stuffed a hand in his pocket, producing a five-dollar bill, and handed it to her. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of using a plastic card to pay for things. She handed him back his change, which was only a few cents, and he immediately stuck it in the tip jar in front. Despite always using cash, he didn’t like his pockets to jingle. He gave a small wave of thanks and then left the cafe. 

He got back into his truck, setting his coffee down in the cup holder. He glanced at the truck’s console, checking the clock for a third time. By now, it was 7:30 AM and class started in an hour. He had plenty of time to get ready for class. He pulled out of the cafe’s parking lot and drove only a few streets over to where the college campus was located. The welding department was toward the back of campus and had its own little lot for parking with only a short walk to all the classrooms.

Getting out of the car, Wonwoo grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and set it on the roof of his truck. He reached back through the car, putting all the things he sat in the passenger seat earlier this morning in his arms before shutting the car door with his hip and grabbing his coffee cup once more. 

Wonwoo walked to his classroom door and realized he didn’t have enough hands to pull the door key out of his pocket. He gave an exasperated sigh, setting the coffee cup on the ground just enough out of the way of the door so that he could get the keys out to unlock it. He unlocked the door and flung it open, his leg keeping it open long enough for him to slip the keys back into his pocket and get his abandoned coffee before it slammed shut behind him.

It was dark, the only light coming from the two windows in the front. Since he had no available hands to turn on the light switch, Wonwoo slowly made his way to his desk in the half-light and unloaded everything he had in his arms. He walked back over near the door and flipped the lights on, making himself squint slightly from the sudden light. Back at his desk, he finished off what was left of his coffee and went to work getting his classroom ready for the students who would arrive shortly. 

Eventually, all the student desks had been set up with the supplies the school provided for each student, although today was mostly going to just be for talking about the class expectations. Wonwoo had planned to give them a small demonstration of what they would end up learning and had his own welding desk set up with a few metal sheets that he would weld together. They would use that process to make whatever project they picked out to make during the semester.

Wonwoo stood up from his desk and students started to trickle in, a stack of paper syllabi in his hands. He was old school in that way and he had printed them the night before and put them in his briefcase. As each student sat down, he set a syllabus on the desk in front of them. He had developed a bit of rhythm, that is until he saw you walk in the classroom and he came to a dead stop. There was no doubt in his mind who you were, you even looked identical despite wearing modern clothing. First, the dreams from this morning and now this. What sort of sick plan did fate have?

You walked into the welding classroom, your first class of the day. You weren’t even sure why you signed up for the class but it was a good elective to take, and maybe it might even turn out to be a fun one. As you made your way to a desk, you felt as if there were eyes on you. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, like when you could tell a man was ogling you. You sat down at a desk and looked up to the front, finding who you assumed to be the teacher, frozen with papers in his hands and staring. His were the eyes that were staring at you, almost like they were trying to burn a hole through your body. Your eyes eventually met with his and unexpectedly, you couldn’t look away either. What was this sudden warm and magnetic feeling?  

Finally, he looked away and it felt like someone had snapped a chord. It felt like you had been in a trance of sorts, and you hoped only a few minutes had passed. You put your school bag and materials for the class on the floor next to you and turned your focus on the syllabus that had been sitting on your desk while the rest of the students filled the classroom. Once the teacher, Mr. Jeon or Wonwoo, as he introduced himself as later, felt everyone had shown up for class, he started explaining the syllabus and demonstrating some of the things you would learn with him that semester including stick welding, which was the main type you’d be using for the project listed in the syllabus. 

You kept stealing glances at the man, noticing how handsome he was. He was built, not in a bodybuilder way, but in a way you could tell had honed over time due to his metal working. Yet at the same time, he gave off a bookish aura when he occasionally slipped the pair of glasses he had sitting at his desk on. All the while you could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to you, that he was someone to you. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.

You left the class an hour later, still feeling bewildered. For the rest of the day, your thoughts were filled with him and who he could be. Did you know him as a child? Was this a deja vu situation? Or was this even deeper, like knowing him from a past life or something like that? You didn’t like this not knowing, so you decided there was really only one way to figure out what this was. You needed to get to know him. More precisely, you needed to ask him on a date. Sure, he was a teacher and that was generally taboo territory even if you were both adults but you needed to know what this feeling was, who he was.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was apprehensive and questioned lots of things after class had ended. Was it actually you? It certainly felt like you. Just like the dream he had early that morning, he found himself wary of the timing. Why was the universe putting you here and now after all that time? Wonwoo knew what happened before. He didn’t think he could take it if he lost you the same way again. He nearly lost himself before and he couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if the same thing were to happen for a second time. So just like that, Wonwoo made up his mind. No matter how strong the connection felt between you two, he was determined to keep you at arm’s length.

A week or so had passed and to Wonwoo’s annoyance, the feeling had not gone away at all. In fact, he felt it was stronger. The more he tried to resist your stares and signs of flirting, the stronger the pull felt. He felt surges of electricity when your hands brushed against each other when he gave you handouts. He knew you purposely would ask for help when you were practicing welding techniques, just so that the two of you could have the slightest contact even though he knew darn well you didn’t need help at all. Wonwoo hated it. He wanted you so bad but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

You didn’t understand. 

You were pulling all the subtle advances you could think of without blatant flirting and your teacher would not budge. You could tell he felt the same things you did, the same charge when you touched. There was a familiar warmth and comfort when you felt his arms against your back while helping you weld, something that felt like love but there was no way you could feel that way this soon, right?  

You had already decided to ask him out eventually, but you were hoping you could get him to warm up to you first so that it would be simple for him to say “yes” or perhaps even to ask you out instead. It seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on you, hesitating for whatever reason unknown to you. You made the official decision, you would ask him out. Today.

You purposely waited until all the other students had left the classroom, putting your materials away slowly at your desk and in your book bag. Wonwoo had returned to sit at his desk, also cleaning up materials from today’s class. Once all the others were gone, you made your way to the front and stood in front of his desk. He didn’t look up for what felt like ten minutes but it was probably only a few. He was ignoring you, whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know. 

When Wonwoo finally did look up he asked, “Is there something else I can help you with Y/N?”

“Yeah, you can help me by going on a date with me,” you said boldly and matter-of-factly. 

Wonwoo let out an audible sigh and rubbed at his face in unease. “Y/N, I’m your teacher,” he responded, using a more valid reason to refuse you instead of just his feelings. 

“I know. It’s frowned upon, sure, but it’s not against the rules. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking risks. So let’s go on a date,” you persuaded. 

“No.” Wonwoo definitely was not going to make this simple. 

You scoffed. “Fine, but I’ll just ask you again until you agree to it.” Then you walked out of the classroom, leaving Wonwoo with a slight scowl on his face. There was no way you were going to give up that quickly. You needed to know what this was.

Over the next three days, you asked him out after class again and again, his answer always being a firm “no”. Wonwoo was determined not to let heartbreak and the complete destruction of his supposedly safer world happen again, even if that meant a mild version of it now from rejecting you so many times. To him, that would be a gentle pain compared to being together and losing you for a second time. And that was much more acceptable in his eyes.

On day four, Wonwoo was prepared with his repeated answer. Except you had a different question this time.

“Can I just ask why?” you asked, standing up at your desk before leaving class. “We both know the fact that you are my teacher isn’t the real reason.” You sounded a bit exasperated now, you had never been rejected this many times.

Wonwoo contemplated, coming to stand closer to you, almost nose to nose before he said, ”I’m not sure you would believe my real reason.”

“Try me,” you challenged, the now normal charge pulsing between you two.

Wonwoo gave you a hard stare. Maybe if he did tell you, you’d think he was insane and you would finally give up. “I’m not human,” he said simply.

You squinted at him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a human. I’m a God. They called me Hephaestus,” Wonwoo said, wincing a bit as he spoke his previous name. To his surprise, you didn’t call him crazy. He watched as the wheels in your mind turned.

You didn’t know if you believed him, but you didn’t exactly think he was lying either. You gave a small laugh thinking of how ironic it was for him to be a welding teacher. 

“See. You think I’m nuts,” he said, misunderstanding your giggle.

“No, no, actually I’m pretty sure I believe you. But you being a god doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me more interested. There’s no way you just being a god or whatever is what is making me feel like I belong with you, like I need to be with you,” you clarified.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a bit. He knew what he felt with you and he knew it was possible that you had too, but maybe not the magnitude of it. “You’re her reincarnation. She’s you. You’re her,” he said, softly. A note of sadness seeped through his words now. 

“Who?” you asked, needing to know more. 

“The only true love I ever had. After I was kicked out of Olympus and sent to Earth by my mother.” 

Now you thought you got it. The reason you had all these unexplainable feelings, why you felt like you knew Wonwoo already, why you felt so connected to him. It was because you did know him, albeit in a different lifetime. You had been with him, you had loved him and he had definitely loved you. But there was still something you didn’t get. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you again then?

“There’s still something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” you questioned.

Wonwoo looked down at his feet and you barely made out the words that he responded with. “You were sick. You died.” 

Your heart dropped and you felt a piece was broken, for him and for your previous self. But you were a new person now, it might not end that way with you. Next thing you knew, you were closing the space between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. He backed up, trying not to give in to you but all that resulted in was you pinning him against the classroom wall. 

At first, he just stood there, frozen. However, he could no longer deny his body’s chemistry with yours and in a split second decided he no longer wanted to fight it. He kissed you back and somehow the entire universe felt like it had been righted after so long. Suddenly, he didn’t care that his heart could break again and never be repaired. Kissing you, touching you made it feel like that could never happen to him again.

Since he seemed to reciprocate your advances now, you moved your arms from caging him against the wall and instead ran your fingertips underneath his shirt, just at the edge of his slacks. Even touching his skin felt right and familiar to you. There really was this unparalleled feeling that was felt with nobody else but him. Despite being annoyed with him previously, you felt his devotion to the you from before and wanted to take your time with him.

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, taking it off and revealing the abs you knew were under it. You knew they were there, yet you still gasped at how lovely they looked. Wonwoo reached forward and pulled your shirt off as well, leaving you in your bra. Soon both of your pants and undergarments had been taken off, the two of you completely exposed in the classroom. 

Wonwoo ran his hands along various parts of your skin, igniting that ever-present electricity. He pushed you against the edge of his desk as his exposed length rubbed against you, making you wetter by the second. 

You took back control, pulling his arm to make him sit in the chair behind the desk. He looked up at you, his face full of adoration as you moved to straddle him. You started slowly, gradually grinding against him, wanting to show him a more gentle side. 

“Fuck.” He let out the word in a deep breath as you continued to grind your slit against him. The word seared straight to your core and you needed him in you now. 

“Wonwoo, I need to ride you,” you whined, calling him by his first name. He nodded and let you gradually sink onto him, taking your hips into his warm, large hands once you bottomed out. A moment later, you had adjusted to his size and you began moving your hips which elicited a hiss from Wonwoo. 

You glanced at him, making sure this was okay. “It’s okay, it feels really good,” He confirmed, encouraging you to keep moving. 

You picked up the rhythm, creating a steady pace as you rode him in the chair. Both of your voices echoed in the classroom, moans confirming your pleasure and you were so glad he didn’t have any classes after yours.

Wonwoo’s hips began to stutter and the moans he was letting out before were turning into whimpers. You were sure he was getting close to a release. Then you shifted in his lap just slightly so that he was hitting that particular spot within you. “Y/N, I’m gonna…” He whispered.

“Me too,” you responded. As soon as you spoke those words, his hips stilled and ropes of his cum painted your insides. He leaned forward to kiss you while his length continued to jerk. The force of his orgasm led you to your own, one so intense it left you weak in the knees and lightheaded. You ended up slightly limp in his lap, resting your head on his broad shoulder. 

You didn’t remember him pulling out or moving you to sit in his lap like a little kid. A minute or two later, the post-orgasm haze had worn off and you felt like you needed to say something. “I know we are connected and I kind of pushed you into kissing me first. I know I’m supposed to be a reincarnation of your true love but I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said, rambling in a little embarrassment and a small bit of guilt for pulling Wonwoo further into this whole thing. 

“So you regret it?” Wonwoo asked, a strange deadpan tone to his voice and he moved his hands that were just cradling the small of your back. He just made the choice to move ahead with you and now you were already regretting it?

“No, No. I didn’t mean that. I regret nothing. Do you?” You asked with a raised eyebrow at his reaction. It sounded like he was finally letting himself be free from what was holding him back from you. You didn’t mean for it to sound like you didn’t want everything you just did.

Eventually, he answered. “No, I don’t,” he said with a bit of a chuckle and kissed you on the forehead before you got up from his lap. 

You smiled at him cheekily then. “Good.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Well, Wonwoo already knew the worst thing that could but maybe, just maybe fate wouldn’t be cruel and this time might end differently. He decided he would take that chance with you.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[felassan]

July 22nd DA:TV Game Informer article (their last DA:TV coverage article) on Everything we Know about Bellara - cliff notes:

Bellara is Dalish elf (played by Jee Young Han as we know). There might be more to her than meets the eye

"Now, with two of [the elven] gods on the loose, magic has poured back into the world in a big way"

CC is expansive

Bellara is the first companion we will recruit (Neve and Harding join automatically it seems)

She is a mage, a Veil Jumper (who she represents), quirky, energetic, effervescent, optimistic, bubbly, academic, a tinkerer, an explorer of ancient elven ruins

John Epler wrote her and led her development, and collective team effort from lots of departments brought her to life

The BW team really love her

Gary McKay quote: "I love Bellara, I think she's fantastic. I see people that I know in her and so that's how she really resonates with me. I love the whole tinkerer aspect to her. It was a collective to bring that character to life. It was everything from the writers, to the editors, the animators, to character modelers, to the texturing, to how we light her. I'm really proud of that character."

She is a good choice in combat for both support and elemental combos. She starts out as a support character, but can be built in other ways

She attacks with a bow at range using electrically-charged arrows. She can also cast time-slow and healing spells (she can be built to heal Rook autonomously). She does this by channeling magical energy into her gauntlet

As such she leans into electrical damage

Damage type matters a lot in the strategy and tactics of combat

She can unleash a devastating vortex to pull enemies into an electrical storm (an AOE spell)

She can debuff enemies with the shocked affliction, which makes them take passive damage

Corinne Busche quote: "Oh my goodness, she is amazing. [The Veil Jumpers] investigate the ancient ruins of Arlathan. Everything about her character as a mage leans into that, but she also challenges the kind of archetypal idea of a mage."

The Veil Jumpers journey through Arlathan where the ancient empire used to exist and left a lot of artifacts and magical technology behind when it disappeared

Bellara represents this yearning to find the truth of who the elves were after they lost their magic, immortality and a lot of their history

"they still left a lot of their artifacts and a lot of their, for lack of a better term, magical technology behind"

John Epler quote: "A lot of what they know of their past is based on myth, it's based on rumor. Bellara is a knowledge seeker. She wants to find out what's true, what's not; she wants to find the pieces of who the elves used to be and really understand what their story was, where they came from, as well as figure out where they're going next, and find a future for the elves. And within the context of The Veilguard, she joins the team, first of all, to help stop the gods because Bellara feels at least partially responsible since they are elven gods, but also to maybe find a little bit more of who they used to be. Because again, you're dealing with these elves that were around millennia ago that have now reemerged into the world, and who better to teach her who the elves used to be than them."

Magic's place in the world in DA:TV differs from prior games. In Tevinter and other spaces in DA:TV it's much more present by definition and the lore (though the devs wanted to make sure magic didn't violate previously-established lore rules)

Solas is a "determined and tragic character" who "tends to wallow". [nb, these are quotes from the article]. in contrast, Bellara has seen a lot of tragedy in her backstory (we will see this as we get into her arc), but instead of wallowing, she has forced herself to push past it. "She looks at her regrets, and she tells herself, 'I don't want to feel regret'

John: "Whereas again, Solas tends to wallow in his to a large degree. And it allows us to create a very big differentiation. Part of it is also because Solas is an ancient elf, whereas Bellara is a Dalish elf, but she just sees a problem and wants to solve it. She feels a tremendous amount of responsibility to her people [...] to the Dalish, and to the Veil Jumpers, and that drives her forward. That said, she does have her moments where she has doubt, she has moments where she has a more grim outlook, and there are moments where you realize that some of her sunny, optimistic outlook is kind of a mask that she puts on to hide the fact that she's hurting, she's in pain. But in general, she doesn't see any benefit to wallowing in those regrets."

[source]

[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Of Sauron [Hypothetical] Redemption

Is Sauron redeemable?

This question is particularly active in the Sauron x Galadriel fandom, for obvious reasons. But it can be of interest to any Tolkien fan, really. Brace yourselves, this is a long read and we are going deep into Tolkien legendarium, here.

To many, the idea that Sauron is redeemable is absurd in itself because of how Tolkien describes him as “the second visible incarnation of evil”; “reincarnation of Evil, and a thing lusting for Complete Power” (Letter 131); or “shadow of Morgoth” (The Silmarillion). All of this means that Sauron is absolute and pure evil, yes? And hence, he has no possibility of redemption, whatsoever? 

Not quite.

For starters, there’s an idea that needs to be deconstructed here: Tolkien lore being “black and white”, or pure Evil vs. pure Good. It isn’t.

And this was actually, a grievance Tolkien himself had ever since his work first got published. The critics and the public, seemed determined to judge his books on an absolute dichotomy, without any nuance. Ironic, many are doing the same until this day (and probably the reason why Christopher Tolkien hated the Peter Jackson adaptations so much).  

Some reviewers have called the whole thing simple-minded, just a plain fight between Good and Evil, with all the good just good, and the bad just bad. Pardonable, perhaps (though at least Boromir has been overlooked) in people in a hurry, and with only a fragment to read, and, of course, without the earlier written but unpublished Elvish histories. But the Elves are not wholly good or in the right. Not so much because they had flirted with Sauron; as because with or without his assistance they were 'embalmers'. They wanted to have their cake and eat it: to live in the mortal historical Middle-earth because they had become fond of it (and perhaps because they there had the advantages of a superior caste), and so tried to stop its change and history, stop its growth, keep it as a pleasaunce, even largely a desert, where they could be 'artists' – and they were overburdened with sadness and nostalgic regret.  Tolkien Letter 154

Tolkien admits his lore doesn’t deal with “absolute evil” because he doesn’t believe in such a thing:

In my story I do not deal in Absolute Evil. I do not think there is such a thing, since that is Zero. I do not think that at any rate any 'rational being' is wholly evil. Satan fell. In my myth Morgoth fell beasts and monsters, and the Unknown. The defence of the realm may then indeed become symbolic of the human situation. Before Creation of the physical world. Tolkien Letter 183

Tolkien's Sauron

Did Tolkien created Sauron as a nuanced villain in his lore? What does he say about him? 

And there is Sauron. In the Silmarillion and Tales of the First Age Sauron was a being of Valinor perverted to the service of the Enemy and becoming his chief captain and servant. He repents in fear when the First Enemy is utterly defeated, but in the end does not do as was commanded, return to the judgement of the gods. He lingers in Middle-earth. Very slowly, beginning with fair motives: the reorganising and rehabilitation of the ruin of Middle-earth, 'neglected by the gods', he becomes a reincarnation of Evil, and a thing lusting for Complete Power – and so consumed ever more fiercely with hate (especially of gods and Elves). All through the twilight of the Second Age the Shadow is growing in the East of Middle-earth, spreading its sway more and more over Men – who multiply as the Elves begin to fade. The three main themes are thus The Delaying Elves that lingered in Middle-earth; Sauron's growth to a new Dark Lord, master and god of Men; and Numenor-Atlantis. Tolkien Letter 131

Mairon, the Maia of Aulë, was not evil in the beginning (because nothing is, in Tolkien lore).  He was corrupted by Morgoth. He repents of his crimes under Morgoth but doesn’t do penitance. During the Second Age, he begins his rise to power, being a cautionary tale of “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”.

In Season 1 of "Rings of Power", we saw "repentant Mairon" aka Halbrand:

In Season 2, Annatar was introduced, and he symbolizes "Sauron the reformer", who wants to rebuilt Middle-earth with good intentions:

Sauron was of course not 'evil' in origin. He was a 'spirit' corrupted by the Prime Dark Lord (the Prime sub-creative Rebel) Morgoth. He was given an opportunity of repentance, when Morgoth was overcome, but could not face the humiliation of recantation, and suing for pardon; and so his temporary turn to good and 'benevolence' ended in a greater relapse, until he became the main representative of Evil of later ages. But at the beginning of the Second Age he was still beautiful to look at, or could still assume a beautiful visible shape – and was not indeed wholly evil, not unless all 'reformers' who want to hurry up with 'reconstruction' and 'reorganization' are wholly evil, even before pride and the lust to exert their will eat them up. Tolkien Letter 153

During the Second Age, Sauron begins his rise to power, with good intentions, at first. However, his pride and lust for power becomes too great, and he aspires to become a “God of Men” (no longer a mere Maia).

And this is probably Sauron's greater crime (sin) in the legendarium, since Eru himself is called to intervene: Sauron was first defeated by a 'miracle': a direct action of God the Creator, changing the fashion of the world, when appealed to by Manwë [...] reduced to 'a spirit of hatred borne on a dark wind', I do not think one need boggle at this spirit carrying off the One Ring, upon which his power of dominating minds now largely depended (Letter 211).

Because of his admiration of Strength he [Sauron] had become a follower of Morgoth and fell with him down into the depths of evil, becoming his chief agent in Middle Earth. When Morgoth was defeated by the Valar finally he forsook his allegiance; but out of fear only; he did not present himself to the Valar or sue for pardon, and remained in Middle Earth. When he found how greatly his knowledge was admired by all other rational creatures and how easy it was to influence them, his pride became boundless. By the end of the Second Age he assumed the position of Morgoth's representative. By the end of the Third Age (though actually much weaker than before) he claimed to be Morgoth returned. Tolkien Letter 183 (note)

Let's dig in the "Sauron the supervillain":

The corrupted, as was Melkor/Morgoth and his followers (of whom Sauron was one of the chief) saw in them the ideal material for subjects and slaves, to whom they could become masters and 'gods', envying the Children, and secretly hating them, in proportion as they became rebels against the One (and Manwë his Lieutenant in Eä). Tolkien Letter 212

In my story Sauron represents as near an approach to the wholly evil will as is possible. He had gone the way of all tyrants: beginning well, at least on the level that while desiring to order all things according to his own wisdom he still at first considered the (economic) well-being of other inhabitants of the Earth. But he went further than human tyrants in pride and the lust for domination, being in origin an immortal (angelic) spirit. In The Lord of the Rings the conflict is not basically about 'freedom', though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour. The Eldar and the Númenóreans believed in The One, the true God, and held worship of any other person an abomination. Sauron desired to be a God-King, and was held to be this by his servants; if he had been victorious he would have demanded divine honour from all rational creatures and absolute temporal power over the whole world.   Tolkien Letter 183

What these quotes tell us, is this: while Sauron isn’t “absolute evil” (because Tolkien himself didn’t deal with this in his legendarium, nor did he believed such a thing exists), Sauron's will (desires; intentions; goals) came pretty close to “wholly evil”.

Sauron is unmistakable evil, obviously distinguishable from “good”: he’s not a grey character, nor an anti-hero in any way, shape or form. He’s a full-on villain, some might even say a "super-villain", really. However, he’s not pure irredeemably wicked evil in Tolkien lore.

Why?

Tolkien's Ideas of Redemption

This goes back to Tolkien’s religious beliefs (Christian-Catholic) and how they are present in his legendarium; in 1953, he wrote this about the Orcs: 

the Diabolus Morgoth did, and started making things 'for himself, to be their Lord', these would then 'be', even if Morgoth broke the supreme ban against making other 'rational' creatures like Elves or Men. They would at least 'be' real physical realities in the physical world, however evil they might prove, even 'mocking' the Children of God. They would be Morgoth's greatest Sins, abuses of his highest privilege, and would be creatures begotten of Sin, and naturally bad. (I nearly wrote 'irredeemably bad'; but that would be going too far. Because by accepting or tolerating their making – necessary to their actual existence – even Orcs would become part of the World, which is God's and ultimately good.)   I have represented at least the Orcs as pre-existing real beings on whom the Dark Lord has exerted the fullness of his power in remodeling and corrupting them, not making them. That God would 'tolerate' that, seems no worse theology than the toleration of the calculated dehumanizing of Men by tyrants that goes on today.  Tolkien Letter 153 

In 1965, W.H. Auden asked Tolkien if the notion of Orcs (an entire race that should be seen as irredeemably wicked) was not heretical:

With regard to The Lord of the Rings, I cannot claim to be a sufficient theologian to say whether my notion of Orcs is heretical or not. I don't feel under any obligation to make my story fit with formalized Christian theology, though I actually intended it to be consonant with Christian thought and belief, which is asserted somewhere, Book Five, page 190,1 where Frodo asserts that the orcs are not evil in origin.   Tolkien Letter 169 

And now you know the reason behind Orc families in "Rings of Power".

Tolkien himself went back and forward with this notion, or even if the Orcs had “souls”, to begin with, but in the end his faith probably got the best of him. We also see this with his thoughts on Gollum:  

In which case (as I believe) salvation from ruin will depend on something apparently unconnected: the general sanctity (and humility and mercy) of the sacrificial person [...] Gollum had had his chance of repentance, and of returning generosity with love; and had fallen off the knife-edge.  Tolkien Letter 191

On the importance of repentance, even among the Valar:

The Fall or corruption, therefore, of all things in it and all inhabitants of it, was a possibility if not inevitable. Trees may 'go bad' as in the Old Forest; Elves may turn into Orcs, and if this required the special perversive malice of Morgoth, still Elves themselves could do evil deeds. Even the 'good' Valar as inhabiting the World could at least err; as the Great Valar did in their dealings with the Elves; or as the lesser of their kind (as the Istari or wizards) could in various ways become self-seeking.   Aulë, for instance, one of the Great, in a sense 'fell'; for he so desired to see the Children, that he became impatient and tried to anticipate the will of the Creator. Being the greatest of all craftsmen he tried to make children according to his imperfect knowledge of their kind. When he had made thirteen, God spoke to him in anger, but not without pity: for Aulë had done this thing not out of evil desire to have slaves and subjects of his own, but out of impatient love, desiring children to talk to and teach, sharing with them the praise of Ilúvatar and his great love of the materials of which the world is made. The One rebuked Aulë, saying that he had tried to usurp the Creator's power; but he could not give independent life to his makings. He had only one life, his own derived from the One, and could at most only distribute it. 'Behold' said the One: 'these creatures of thine have only thy will, and thy movement. Though you have devised a language for them, they can only report to thee thine own thought. This is a mockery of me.'  Then Aulë in grief and repentance humbled himself and asked for pardon. And he said: 'I will destroy these images of my presumption, and wait upon thy will.' And he took a great hammer, raising it to smite the eldest of his images; but it flinched and cowered from him. And as he withheld his stroke, astonished, he heard the laughter of Ilúvatar. 'Do you wonder at this?' he said. 'Behold! thy creatures now live, free from thy will! For I have seen thy humility, and taken pity on your impatience. Thy making I have taken up into my design.'   This is the Elvish legend of the making of the Dwarves; but the Elves report that Iluvatar said thus also: 'Nonetheless I will not suffer my design to be forestalled: thy children shall not awake before mine own.' And he commanded Aule to lay the fathers of the Dwarves severally in deep places, each with his mate, save Dúrin the eldest who had none. There they should sleep long, until Ilúvatar bade them awake.   Nonetheless there has been for the most part little love between the Dwarves and the children of Iluvatar. And of the fate that Ilúvatar has set upon the children of Aulë beyond the Circles of the world Elves and men know nothing, and if Dwarves know they do not speak of it.  Tolkien Letter 212

This is pure Christian doctrine.

Even though Tolkien legendarium is not a copy-paste from the Bible (and it has several other inspirations), it’s pretty clear that Eru Ilúvatar represents the Christian God. And even though God himself had different interpretations throughout History, I think we should see it as the God from Tolkien’s time (and our time, too): “God the Father” (which makes sense with what Tolkien created on his lore).

In Catholicism (Tolkien’s religion), God is just (God’s justice) but he’s also merciful, and he loves all of his children, even those who fallen into sin. No one is unredeemable in the eyes of God (no matter how deep one has fallen), if one truly repents and makes amends for his sins ("the virtue of penance"). God is always willing to give their faithful a second chance, if they accept him as their one true God, and make penitence in His service (whatever that might be).

In the lore, we know that the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men. However, all the deities (Valar and Maiar) were also created by Eru. From a Christian perspective, the Valar are archangels, and the Maiar are angels. This is an on-going debate within Theology, because some agree that angels are “sons of God”, while others don’t. For the sake of the argument, I’ll just add this: Job 38:7 - when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God [angels] shouted for joy. But more on that later.

This means that Sauron is, indeed, redeemable. But he has to make that choice, himself. "Free will"; another major theme in Tolkien lore.

And, the true question, here, isn’t “is Sauron redeemable?” but “is Sauron capable of repentance”? 

In Tolkien “canon”, meaning the events of “The Silmarillion”, “The Hobbit”, up until the end of “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy (First to the dawn of the Fourth Age) the answer is no.

After the One ring is destroyed by Frodo, Sauron’s spirit is left so diminished and weak, he can never rise to power, again, according to Gandalf:

If [the One Ring] is destroyed, then [Sauron] will fall; and his fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again. For he will lose the best part of his strength that was native to him in his beginning, and all that made or begun with that power will crumble, and he will be maimed for ever, becoming a mere spirit of malice that gnaws itself in the shadows, but cannot again grow or take shape. And so a great evil of this world will be removed.  

However, this is not as simple. Sauron/Mairon is an immortal spirit by definition. He can’t never truly die, since he’s one of the spiritual forces that first helped shaped the world in the Ainulindalë (the Music of the Ainur), and no soul can be annihilated or reduced to zero (non-existent) in Tolkien legendarium.  

Sauron/Mairon’s whereabouts and fate after the dawn of Fourth Age are unaccounted for, because Tolkien didn’t get the chance to finish his story. We, truly, don’t know where he went, if we stayed on Middle-earth, or to the Undying Lands of Valinor (to finally face the judgement of the Valar for his crimes), because he could go whenever he wanted in Arda, really.  

One theory is that Manwë, the King of the Valar, might have come to Mordor to capture Sauron after the One ring is destroyed, based on this description from “Return of the King”: 

And as the Captain gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent [Sauron’s spirit]: for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed, then a hush fell.” 

Basically this scene but a “great wind” carries away that shadow

Manwë is the one with the power over air and winds, and when Sauron repented the first time (after Morgoth’s defeat), he went to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, to beg forgiveness for his past crimes. His fellow Maia told him that he couldn't be the one to grant him pardon, because that’s above his station, and he needs to face trial before the Valar, namely from Manwë.

Since we know that Sauron’s pride prevented him from doing this, it would actually make sense for Manwë himself to capture Sauron after his defeat, bringing him to Valinor.

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgment of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-Earth; and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong. The Silmarillion

Many use Gandalf’s quote as “proof” that Sauron remained on Middle-earth like a shadow of malice, or a ghost. However, Tolkien made the distinction between himself and what his characters say, in Letter 153: “There is, to me, a wide gulf between the two statements, so wide that Treebeard's statement could (in my world) have possibly been true [...] Treebeard is a character in my story, not me; and though he has a great memory and some earthy wisdom, he is not one of the Wise, and there is quite a lot he does not know or understand.”

Gandalf is wise, indeed, but he’s not of the same rank as the Valar (he’s a servant to them), nor he, like Eönwë, has either the power or the permission to pass sentences on other Maiar’s fates. Which means, his quote is his own opinion on the subject, and not actual "canon" on what happened to Sauron after the One was destroyed.

For the sake of argument, let’s assume Manwë captured Sauron: was he sent to the Void like his former master, Morgoth?

Based on The Silmarillion it could appear that way: 

Among those of his servants that have names the greatest was that spirit whom the Eldar called Sauron, or Gorthaur the Cruel. In his beginning he was of the Maia of Aulë, and he remained mighty in the lore of that people. In all the deeds of Melkor the Morgoth upon Arda, in his vast workds and in the deceits of his cunning, Sauron had a part, and was only less evil than his master in that for long he served another and not himself. But in after years he rose like a shadow of Morgoth and a ghost of his malice, and walked behind him on the same ruinous path down into the Void.  

However, this, again, is not that simple, because The Silmarillion was not only published by Christopher Tolkien, and it contains elements outdated and reviewed by Tolkien himself, but it’s also a tale written by the Eldar, and it contains “opinions” and “facts” from which the Eldar themselves had little knowledge about (namely everything that’s connected to the Maiar and the Valar).

This means, not everything that’s in The Silmarillion is true or actually happened (canon): it’s like “Fire & Blood” by George R.R. Martin, a collection of facts, opinions, gossip, myths, etc. written by the Elves. The truth is in Tolkien’s essays and letters, really. And this is why “Rings of Power” can afford to play with the events of this book. 

Tolkien did confirm, in his Letter 297, that Morgoth was overthrown and extruded from the World (the physical universe). But his crimes were far worse than Sauron's:

the Diabolus Morgoth did, and started making things 'for himself, to be their Lord', these would then 'be', even if Morgoth broke the supreme ban against making other 'rational' creatures like Elves or Men. They would at least 'be' real physical realities in the physical world, however evil they might prove, even 'mocking' the Children of God. They would be Morgoth's greatest Sins, abuses of his highest privilege. Tolkien, Letter 153

Morgoth is a Vala (God/archangel), and he did not only corrupted Elves into Orcs, but also Maiar (angels) into Balrogs and other servants of his (demons), including Mairon himself. Mairon, like all the other Maiar (including the fallen ones), was created by Eru, but got corrupted by Morgoth, which means, the way Eru sees him is key. Does he sees Mairon as "equal" to Morgoth, or as victim of Morgoth's corruption? Food for thought. Because if he's just a victim, the Void isn't his fate.

A lot of fans in the Tolkien fandom have the headcanon that the immortal servants of Morgoth were sent to the Void, alongside him, but Tolkien never wrote about this, and their fates are a mystery. I might be mistaken here, but I think only Ungoliant’s fate is mentioned in the legendarium, and very enigmatic, too: went to the forgotten south of the world before the (first) rising of the Sun, and there disappeared from history.

Then, we have the fact that Satan/Lucifer is Melkor/Morgoth because he’s the one who corrupts God’s creation and he’s the symbolic archangel (like Lucifer was). Him being dragged in chains and imprisoned until the end of time, also parallels a biblical event.

Sauron is a satanist, a follower of Satan/Morgoth. Tolkien also makes this distinction in his letters: Satanic rebellion and evil of Morgoth and his satellite Sauron; in which Evil is largely incarnate, and in which physical resistance to it is a major act of loyalty to God (Letter 156). Tolkien also calls Sauron "a reincarnation of Evil"; that "evil" being Morgoth (diabolus).

Sauron’s crimes 

His biggest crimes in Tolkien legendarium aren’t the forging of the One ring, nor the whole “rings of power” project to enslave the Free people’s of Middle-earth, nor even the Fall of Númenor. Because, as Tolkien, told us: “in The Lord of the Rings the conflict is not basically about 'freedom', though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour” (Letter 183).

Sauron’s biggest sins in Tolkien lore are:

Pride

Idolatry (worship of false gods): Thou shall have no other Gods before me. Mairon turned his back on Eru (God) to serve Morgoth (Devil), and this act of treason is a crime against Eru himself;

Rebellion: against Eru’s authority, by siding with Morgoth;

Heresy: he forsake his worship of Eru (his creator) for Morgoth; and also converted many Númenoreans to his Morgoth cult, in the hopes of angering the Valar enough to destroy Númenor;

Blasphemy: he cut down Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, a symbol of the Faithful, and in its place raised a great Temple devoted to Morgoth in which human sacrifices were performed to asks for immortality, and persecuted the Faithful;

Usurpation of God’s authority: self-proclaim God. That’s why he’s called “shadow of Morgoth”; because Sauron is a mere Maia, a servant to a God, not an actual God.

Would any of these sins sent Sauron into the Void with his former master? Again, it would depend on how Eru judges him, really.

The Void is quite a mysterious place in the legendarium; it’s located outside Time and Space, it’s the absence of the Secret Fire of Eru (“the Flame Imperishable”), his power of Creation. We only know that Morgoth was imprisoned there, and set free at the end of time.

Eru already punished Sauron once, by removing his ability to take on physical form after the Fall of Númenor; and after the One ring was destroyed, Sauron himself is little more than a shadow of his former self, his spirit severely diminished, powerless, and unable to cause any damage, at all. That’s his punishment, already.

But in order to get any redemption, that choice would have to come from Mairon. He would have to truly and honestly repent for all of sins (confession), starting by forsaken Morgoth and recognizing Eru as his one true God, and, then, fulfill a fitting penitence for his crimes. We are talking about an immortal spirit here, this process can take thousands of years or even millenniums.   

[librarycards]

There is no christening the archive. It neither starts nor ends, existing instead in a continuous state of creative destruction. History, Derrida argues, is happening at the same time as we are, giving us the potential to reconfigure “before” and thus transform the future. This, however, comes at a steep cost: that the archive is ever-changing means that history will never be complete. We can examine the archive through what Foucault terms “archaeology,” a sort of historical palmistry in which we follow the traces inscribed by our past in order to better understand our present. Our own unwitting archaeologists, trans people are tasked with tracking our myriad crossings, marking the moments that imbued us with gender. We are not selves, exactly, but accumulations of meaning: when I tell you to call me “they,” I am always speaking in plural: me, and them, and her, and all my ghosts. We are told that if we work together, we can unearth the source of me, discover the creation myth that will make the life I live today true. Yet even amid the compulsion to retrieve our selves from history and make sense of them, we charge toward futility. We dig and dent our skin, only to return and widen the scabs. A dent is a type of haunting. So is regret. Renee haunts me in the moments when I least expect it; my archive regenerates as if through divine intervention. A debt is a type of haunting. The debt I carry is unpayable, even as my creditor, my lineage, walks beside me. I am followed by a cascade of critical memories that hardly feel my own. They return to me at random moments, demanding collection.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The Holocaust was undoubtedly one of the greatest tragedies of modern history, where millions of innocents were murdered in an unspeakably cruel and industrialized manner. Also true is that this was not the reason for the creation of Israel, which had its colonial seeds planted nearly a century prior. It was not remorse that motivated the colonial powers to support Israel, powers which were actively committing genocide against multiple colonized populations. Framing the creation of Israel as repentance for the Holocaust is not only historically inaccurate, but deliberately paints the legitimate rejection of its creation at the expense of the Palestinians as complicity with Nazi genocide. It transfers Europe’s guilt onto Palestinians, where they become the embodiment of everything the grandchildren of fascists claim to despise in their grand quest for (empty, symbolic) redemption. A redemption with the theatrics and loud proclamations of regret and change, but none of the substance. At the end of the day, nothing can justify the ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian people, who share no blame for the barbarity of Europe’s pogroms and genocides. Palestine has always been home to countless refugee populations; Jewish people fleeing persecution and finding a safe home in Palestine was never the issue. The issue is that these ideals of coexistence were never reciprocated by the Zionist movement, who showed disdain towards Palestinians from the very beginning and sought to take over the land. It sanctioned its own settlers working with Palestinians, even calling Arab labor an “illness” and forming a segregated trade union that banned non-Jewish members. In 1928, the Palestinian leadership even voted to allow Zionist settlers equal representation in the future bodies of the state, despite them being a minority who had barely just arrived. The Zionist leadership rejected this, of course. Even after this, in 1947 the Palestinians suggested replacing the Mandate with the formation of a unitary state for all those living between the river and the sea, to no avail. These gestures were brushed aside, as they did not benefit the Zionist leadership who never intended to come to Palestine to live as equals. For decades Palestinians have been massacred, their homes stolen and destroyed, ethnically cleansed into refugee camps and denied their right of return. The notion that these colonial powers were ever concerned about Jewish safety as they fomented the conditions that made pogroms possible and denied Jewish refugees safety within their own borders is absurd. So too is the idea that Jewish people from all over the world must all live in a singular nation-state in the Middle East where they are a demographic majority to be safe, that the eradication of anti-Semitism around the world is a lost cause, and that whatever violence is wreaked upon Palestinians for the maintenance of this regressive demographics-obsessed state is justifiable.

[karmaspidr]

Desert Sanctuary AU pt.2

Due to how many people liked this idea, I decided to develop it further. Here are the roles for the rest of Yellow's main cast as well as the cast of the original game.

UTY:

Feisty Four: Special Forces.

After the Sanctuary was established, Starlo told his friends that they would no longer be 'playing around' and that things were about to get very dangerous. He told them they were allowed to back out at any time they wished. They refused.

They are now essentially Starlo's five-star generals, in charge of training and leading new recruits. They each also have unique roles, important to the security of the Sanctuary.

Ed - He's Clover's primary bodyguard. Whenever the only human in the Underground is out in the open, Ed is almost always the one to accompany him.

Moray - They oversee the prisoners. Prisoners may include mercenaries sent to assassinate Clover, extremists, general law breakers etc. They are basically the warden and treat their prisoners fairly. However, it's been noted that those who attempted to kill Clover received slightly less food.

Ace - Head of investigations. He's the one who finds patterns in places patterns shouldn't exist. Uses his playing cards in his conspiracy boards because Clover told him about a character in a TV Show who did that and he liked the idea.

Mooch - Reconasince and Scavenging. The Dunes aren't all that plentiful in terms of natural resources. That is where Mooch's kleptomania comes in handy. She leads teams into the Greater Underground to gather materials they can't trade for and generally nobody would miss. She also steals information, using her innocent appearance and small size to get people to tell her things or find her way into their darkest closets. She sees the Lab as her greatest challenge.

Dalv: Scholar

He still lives in Snowdin and tries to avoid the conflict. This doesn't mean he's not doing his part. He, like many people on both sides, doesn't want these tensions to spiral into something everyone would regret. So he spends his time shifting through history books, diaries, personal recounts and human myths and legends to figure out exactly what happened during the Human-Monster War.

Original Game

Toriel: Caretaker of the Ruins

Her role hasn't changed from the original game. She heard about the movement and has made contact with them. However, she remains in the Ruins take act as the the first line of protection for any human that falls. After all, the Sanctuary is far from the main path.

Flowey: Observer.

When he realised that Clover wouldn't be going to the castle, he was furious. He believed that this timeline was another dud. However, he had the patience to wait, perhaps because of something Clover said under that Cherry Blossom tree. He realised that this 'Cold Civil War' was the most interesting thing to ever happen in the Underground, and has only ever Reset to save Clover from an assassin. He also believes this conflict to be the key to him getting the souls.

Sans: Royal Judge

Sans doesn't change much from the original game either. He doesn't really care about the conflict. Although, due to his promise to Toriel, he would point any human that leaves the Ruins in the direction of either Martlet or the Dunes.

Asgore had sent him to the Dunes a handful of times to 'judge' the residents. He always comes back with good things to say. He never mentioned the anger buried deep inside Clover's soul.

Papyrus: Member of the Royal Guard.

Due to rising tensions between the two sides, Undyne decided to recruit Papyrus into the Guard because of the increased need for soldiers. He's still a loveable goofball but now takes his role much more seriously. Has a close friendship with Martlet. Capable of killing Frisk depending on the route.

Undyne: Captain of the Royal Guard.

She is much more aggressive than in the original game and is the primary reason the two sides haven't made peace yet. Her anti-human views are stronger than ever she sees the Monsters in the Sanctuary as traitors and has compared them to a cult. Wants nothing more than to skewer Clover. The only thing holding her back is her dwindling respect for Asgore and Gerson's warning.

"Men like Clover can be an ally just as easily as an enemy. The key is not giving them a reason to see you as an enemy. You do NOT want to be their enemy."

Alphys: Royal Scientist.

She is not having a good time. She's under more pressure than ever, is watching Undyne slowly destroy herself and has blackmail hanging over her head. Martlet doesn't know everything in the True Lab but she has seen enough to make people ask questions. Ceroba used this knowledge to get Alphys to provide the Sanctuary with the minimal resources to sustain itself.

Mettaton: Entertainment Robot and Wild Card.

Mettaton isn't aligned with either side and is surprisingly neutral when reporting the conflict. He doesn't want humanity to be destroyed but also sees Clover and his allies as a threat to his own agendas. Has sent multiple mercenaries to collect Clover's Soul.

Muffet: Head of the Spider Colony.

Let's be clear. No one likes her, at least as an ally. Everyone knows that the moment you trust her with something she'll sell it to the enemy.

Asgore: Tired King.

Asgore is probably the only one having a worse time than Alphys. He wants this conflict to end. He doesn't want to watch his people tear each other apart. He truly believes that the Sanctuary is in the right. But he can't bring himself to surrender. There are still so many Monsters who genuinely believe in what he is doing and believe that giving in to the Sanctuary's demands would escalate the conflict further. He is too tired to give any grand speeches or to confront his mistakes properly.

After the first diplomatic meeting, he told Clover, "I should have taken back what I said that night immediately, no matter how many people cheered."

[madisonthetimewalker]

You know what fuck it take modern AU Adamai headcanons

1. Adamai works in retail do not ask why he just does.

2. He has clip on ear rings he got his ears pierced once and he regretted it because of the pain

3. He doesn’t like to express himself very much mostly keeping to himself and not talking about his problems.

4. He likes to read and I mean he LOVES reading, if you’re lucky you can catch him on break reading a comic book.

5. He knows how to skateboard (yugo does not and he laughs at this)

6. He mostly stays in his room only coming out for food or unless he wants to be outside for a bit. Other than that he doesn’t really leave his room.

7. He’s very smart about specific dragon cultures, every so often you can catch him in the library reading about dragon myths and possibly ancient food recipes.

8. Surprising he’s very quiet, sure at a young age he was bubbling with joy but now he’s more quiet and sometimes shy.

9. He doesn’t really like big gatherings it was never his thing. If he didn’t know anybody there then he would sit in a corner and mind his own business. (This man has horrible social anxiety)

10. His taste in fashion is decent most of the time he just wears baggy jeans and a shirt, he isn’t much for looking nice.

11. I like to see him as this huge nerd, for example if you ask him about a specific event involving ancient dragonic history. He will talk for hours explaining every detail and every bit of lore (look at my nerdy boy)

12. He doesn’t have many friends at work or at all for that matter, he just works although yes people have tried to talk to him in the past he rarely interacts with them.

13. He loves listening to drama, he loves to listen in on interesting conversations it’s like a hobby at this point.

14. Adamai isn’t much of a people person (as I have said multiple times in this post) and if your lucky enough he might talk to you about specific issues and topics, although he has this bad habit of dozing off during conversations. (Just like me fr)

15. He’s a heavy daydreamer, often times you can see him standing in the middle of nowhere dozing off we don’t know how he does this or how he gets himself in these situations but god is it funny.

16. He gets embarrassed easily when told he did a good job on something, Adamai rarely if ever gets compliments so telling him he’s the best guy in the world it makes him hide his face due to how red it gets.

17. He gets scared easily but not like “omg everything scares him!” More like if you come up behind him without him hearing you he will scream like a banshee.

18. He can run and I don’t mean “oh he’s just fast” HE’S PRETTY FUCKING FAST, if this man so much as sees a big ass spider he’s fuckin GONE

19. I like to believe Adamai has a huge sweet tooth. He loves to eat sweets whenever he gets the opportunity

20. He hates night shift and I mean HATES IT if he so much as hears one creek from the ceiling his ass is already out the door.

21. He has humor trust me it’s there, he isn’t one to make jokes but when he does none laughs sadly mostly because they don’t get it and Adamai has the humor of a broken down 1950’s truck. (Don’t worry Adamai I’ll laugh at your ridiculously stupid jokes)

22. He rarely sleeps (unlike qilby who’s sleep schedule is so bad that it could rival that of Xelor himself) but when he does he’s knocked out for Atleast 2 days. Adamai honey please take care of yourself I’m begging you.

23. He listens to music a lot it’s mostly to block out the annoying noise of people talking and baby’s crying for no reason

24. He can babysit (if you pay him enough) he hates it but he does it for people who need a break.

25. He gets bored easily, sometimes you can find him in the skatepark minding his own business.

Ok that’s all for now can you tell he’s my fav? And can you tell how much I love modern AU’s?

[storiesofmyhead]

Gojo Satoru

Summary: Gojo Satoru x Sukuna's immortal sister, Yume.

Warnings: Sad, fluff, death

In a world where curses and jujutsu sorcery intertwined with the fabric of existence, power often meant everything. Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, had always lived at the pinnacle of this power, unmatched and unrivaled. However, there was one story that even he had never heard, a tale hidden deep within the annals of history, buried by time and forgotten by all except the few who dared remember. It was the story of Sukuna’s immortal sister.

Her name was Yume, and she had been a legend long before Sukuna's reign of terror. Unlike her brother, who was feared for his unmatched cruelty and strength, Yume was known for her grace, wisdom, and the terrifying power she held within. Her immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse, one bestowed upon her by the gods themselves as punishment for defying the natural order. She was ageless, bound to wander the world forever, watching as empires rose and fell, as the world changed, while she remained the same.

Yume had no desire for power, no craving for dominance like her brother. She sought peace, a way to end her eternal suffering, but she found none. Her presence was enough to twist reality, to make curses stronger, to bend the rules of life and death. This made her a target, a coveted prize for those who sought to use her for their own ends. But Yume was elusive, vanishing into the shadows of time, always a step ahead of those who pursued her.

It was in one of these fleeting moments, during the dawn of a new era of sorcery, that she encountered Gojo Satoru.

Gojo had always been curious about the legends that surrounded Sukuna. The more he learned about the King of Curses, the more intrigued he became by the stories of Sukuna’s sister. Most dismissed her as a myth, a ghost of the past, but Gojo knew better than to underestimate the power of legend. He could feel the weight of her existence in the world, a presence that defied the logic of sorcery.

His search for her led him to the ruins of an ancient temple, hidden deep within a forest that seemed to exist outside of time. The air was thick with an unnatural energy, a sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Gojo pushed forward, his six eyes piercing through the veils of reality, until he reached the heart of the temple.

There, standing amidst the crumbling remains of what was once a grand sanctuary, was Yume. Her presence was ethereal, almost otherworldly, with long, flowing hair that seemed to shimmer with the light of a thousand stars. Her eyes, deep and endless, held a sorrow that had been etched into her soul over centuries.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice soft, yet it carried the weight of her immortality.

Gojo smiled, his trademark arrogance showing. “I’ve been told I’m one of a kind.”

Yume regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and weariness. “Why do you seek me, Gojo Satoru? Do you not know that those who find me often regret it?”

“I’m not like most people,” Gojo replied, stepping closer. “I’m here because I want to know the truth. I want to know who you really are, why you’ve been hidden away for so long.”

Yume’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she seemed almost human. “The truth… it’s a heavy burden, one that has crushed many before you. Are you sure you wish to carry it?”

Gojo’s expression grew serious. “I’ve carried heavier burdens.”

Yume sighed, a sound filled with centuries of pain. “Very well. I will tell you my story.”

And so, under the twilight sky, Yume began to unravel the tale of her cursed existence. She spoke of her brother, Sukuna, and the horrors he had unleashed upon the world. She told Gojo of her own power, a force that could rival even Sukuna’s, but one that she refused to use for fear of becoming like him. She explained how she had been hunted by sorcerers, how they had tried to use her immortality to achieve their own twisted goals, and how she had fled from them, seeking only to live in peace.

Gojo listened intently, his usual bravado tempered by the gravity of her words. He realized that Yume was not just a figure from legend, but a living being who had suffered more than anyone could imagine.

“What do you want?” Gojo asked quietly when she finished.

“I want to be free,” Yume replied, her voice trembling slightly. “I want to break this curse and finally find peace.”

Gojo nodded slowly. “I can help you.”

Yume looked at him, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time in centuries. “How?”

“I’ll protect you,” Gojo said firmly. “We’ll find a way to break the curse together. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Yume was silent for a long moment, her gaze searching Gojo’s face for any hint of deception. But all she saw was sincerity, a determination that matched her own. For the first time in her endless life, she felt the possibility of hope.

“Thank you, Gojo Satoru,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

As the days turned into weeks, Gojo and Yume traveled together, seeking answers in ancient texts and forgotten places. Their bond grew stronger, a connection forged not just through their shared quest, but through an understanding of each other’s loneliness and pain. Gojo, who had always been alone at the top, found in Yume a kindred spirit, someone who understood the burden of power and the desire for freedom.

Yume, in turn, found solace in Gojo’s presence. His strength and confidence gave her hope, and his unwavering support made her believe that perhaps, just perhaps, she could escape her fate.

Their journey was fraught with danger. Curses and sorcerers alike sought to stop them, fearing the power they could unleash if they succeeded. But together, Gojo and Yume were unstoppable. They fought side by side, their powers complementing each other in a dance of light and darkness.

In the end, it was not some grand battle that brought them to their goal, but a quiet moment of realization. The curse that bound Yume was not one that could be broken by force, but by acceptance. She had to embrace her past, forgive herself for her perceived sins, and let go of the fear that had held her for so long.

And she did. With Gojo by her side, Yume confronted her past, faced her brother’s legacy, and chose to forgive herself. In that moment, the curse shattered, and for the first time in centuries, Yume felt the weight of her immortality lift from her shoulders.

She was free.

But freedom came at a cost. As the curse broke, Yume’s immortality faded, and she began to age, the centuries catching up with her in an instant. Gojo held her as she grew weaker, his heart breaking as he realized what was happening.

“Yume…” he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

“It’s alright,” she replied, her voice weak but filled with peace. “I’m finally free, Satoru. Thank you.”

And with that, Yume closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips, and took her last breath in Gojo’s arms.

Gojo stayed with her until the end, his heart heavy with grief but also with a sense of fulfillment. He had done what he set out to do. He had given her the peace she so desperately sought.

As he buried Yume in the forest where they first met, Gojo made a silent vow to remember her, to keep her story alive so that she would never be forgotten. He knew that she would always hold a special place in his heart, a reminder that even the strongest among them needed someone to lean on.

And so, Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, walked away from the forest, his heart a little heavier, but his resolve stronger than ever. He had lost a companion, a friend, and perhaps something more, but he had gained a deeper understanding of the world, of life, and of the importance of connection.

Yume’s story might have been over, but Gojo’s was far from it. And as long as he lived, her memory would continue to guide him, a beacon of hope and strength in a world filled with darkness.

~~~

Yuji Itadori lay on the ground, his body still, but inside, something had shifted. Sukuna, the King of Curses, had taken over again, but this time, something was different—something beyond anyone’s understanding.

Gojo Satoru stood a short distance away, his sharp gaze focused on Yuji’s form. He could feel the shift, the subtle yet undeniable presence of something more. It wasn’t just Sukuna; something else had returned, something he had thought he would never see again.

Yuji’s body began to stir, and as it did, a familiar energy started to emanate from it—a presence that Gojo knew all too well. His heart skipped a beat, a mixture of disbelief and hope surging through him. It couldn’t be… could it?

Slowly, Yuji’s body lifted off the ground, and when his eyes opened, they weren’t just Sukuna’s crimson eyes of malice. They were also Yume’s deep, sorrowful eyes. The combination was eerie, a blend of Sukuna’s twisted grin and Yume’s serene grace.

“Satoru…” The voice that came from Yuji’s lips was a blend of Sukuna’s cruel tone and Yume’s gentle warmth.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat. It was her. Somehow, Yume had returned, but she wasn’t alone. She was sharing a vessel with her brother, trapped once again in a situation she had never asked for.

“Yume?” Gojo’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual confident demeanor cracking under the weight of the impossible situation.

“Yes,” Yume replied, her voice gentle and conflicted. “I’m back… but not as I was. Sukuna’s presence brought me back.”

A twisted chuckle escaped Sukuna’s lips—no, Yuji’s lips, but it was unmistakably Sukuna’s. “Surprised, Gojo? Seems my dear sister just couldn’t stay dead. What a family reunion.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he closed the distance between them. His hand gently cupped Yuji’s—no, Yume’s—cheek, and for a moment, the dark presence of Sukuna faded into the background, leaving only Yume’s soft expression.

“I thought I lost you,” Gojo said, his voice betraying the emotions he usually kept buried. “But you’re here… and I’m not letting you go again.”

Yume’s eyes glistened with tears, a stark contrast to the malevolent smirk that Sukuna’s influence forced onto her lips. “I don’t know how long I can stay like this,” she whispered. “He’s too strong… but for now, I’m here.”

Gojo’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He could feel Sukuna lurking, waiting for an opportunity to seize control again, but he wouldn’t allow it. Not this time. Not when Yume was back in his life, even if it was under these dire circumstances.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Gojo declared, his voice filled with a mix of determination and affection. “I won’t let him take you away again.”

Sukuna’s laughter echoed in their minds, but Yume’s soft smile, though forced, was enough to push the dark energy back for now. “I’ll stay with you, Satoru,” she said, her voice laced with both resolve and fear.

From that moment on, Gojo rarely left Yume’s—Yuji’s—side. The others at Jujutsu High noticed the change in him, the way his carefree attitude had shifted into something more serious, more protective. They saw how he stayed close to Yuji, how his gaze softened whenever Yume’s presence emerged, even if it was fleeting.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo’s protective nature only intensified. He shielded Yume from every danger, never allowing her to be alone, always keeping Sukuna’s influence at bay. He fought with a ferocity that none of his students had ever seen before, a determination born not just from his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer but from his deep, unspoken feelings for Yume.

Yume, for her part, was torn. She wanted to stay with Gojo, to find solace in his presence, but she knew that Sukuna’s power was too strong. She feared what he might do, how he might use her against those she cared about. Yet, whenever Gojo was near, she felt safe, even if it was just for a moment.

“Satoru,” she said one evening as they sat together in a quiet corner of the school. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow over them. “You can’t keep doing this… you can’t protect me forever.”

“I can and I will,” Gojo replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll find a way to free you from him. I won’t let him win.”

Yume looked at him, her heart aching. She wanted to believe him, to trust that he could somehow save her, but the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. “What if you can’t? What if he takes over completely?”

Gojo’s eyes, usually so full of mischief, were serious, determined. “Then I’ll fight him. I’ll fight him until there’s nothing left of him. I’ve faced worse odds before, Yume. I won’t lose you again.”

Yume’s tears fell freely now, her emotions too overwhelming to contain. She leaned into Gojo, letting herself be held by him, even as she felt Sukuna’s presence lurking in the background, waiting for his chance to strike.

But for now, in this moment, she was with Gojo. And for both of them, that was enough.

As the night wore on, Gojo held Yume close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, that Sukuna wouldn’t give up easily, but he didn’t care. As long as Yume was by his side, he would fight with everything he had.

He would protect her, no matter the cost.

And somewhere deep within Yuji’s mind, Sukuna watched with a twisted grin, biding his time, knowing that the game was far from over. But even he couldn’t deny the strength of the bond between Gojo and Yume. It was a bond that would make the coming battle all the more interesting.

For now, though, Sukuna would wait, watching and learning. Because even the King of Curses knew that in this game of power and love, there were still pieces left to move, and the outcome was anything but certain.

~~~

The days at Jujutsu High grew increasingly tense as Gojo Satoru continued his relentless quest to separate Yume from Sukuna’s grasp. Yume's presence within Yuji's body was fleeting and fragile, a flickering light overshadowed by Sukuna's dark energy. But Gojo refused to give up, his mind working tirelessly to find a way to bring Yume back fully—to give her the life she deserved, separate from her brother’s malevolent influence.

Gojo’s research led him deep into ancient texts, forgotten rituals, and the rarest of cursed techniques. He spent sleepless nights poring over scrolls and consulting with the few sorcerers who possessed the knowledge he sought. The idea of bringing Yume back to her original body, buried in the forest where they had first met, was a thought that never left his mind. But such a feat required immense power and precision, and even Gojo knew the risks were high.

Yet, the thought of Yume’s smile, of her being free from Sukuna’s shadow, was enough to push him forward. He would do anything to see her truly alive again.

One evening, after another exhausting day of battles and teaching, Gojo felt a surge of determination. He had gathered everything he needed—the right incantations, the precise location of her body, and the immense amount of cursed energy required to make it all happen. There was no more time to waste. Yume had been trapped for too long.

“Yume,” Gojo whispered as he approached Yuji, who was resting in his dorm room. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm light on Yuji’s face. Gojo could sense her presence, faint but there, overshadowing Sukuna’s ever-watchful eye.

Yuji’s eyes opened, and for a moment, Yume’s gentle gaze met Gojo’s. “Satoru…” Her voice was soft, filled with both hope and fear. “What are you planning?”

Gojo’s expression was serious, but his eyes held a tenderness that was reserved only for her. “I’ve found a way to bring you back, Yume. To give you your own body again.”

Yume’s breath caught in her throat. The thought of being free, of no longer being bound to Sukuna, was something she had longed for but never truly believed possible. “Is it… really possible?”

Gojo nodded, his confidence unwavering. “It won’t be easy, and it’s risky, but I believe it can work. I just need you to trust me.”

Yume hesitated, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She had always trusted Gojo, but the fear of the unknown, of what could go wrong, gnawed at her. Yet, as she looked into his eyes, filled with determination and love, she knew she had to take this chance. “I trust you, Satoru,” she whispered.

Gojo smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Good. Then let’s do this.”

That night, under the cover of darkness, Gojo led Yuji—led Yume—to the forest where her body was buried. The forest was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal light over the ancient trees, and the atmosphere crackled with energy.

Gojo had prepared the area meticulously. He had drawn intricate symbols around the grave, using a mixture of his own cursed energy and the knowledge he had gleaned from the ancient texts. Everything was in place. Now, it was up to him to make it work.

As they stood by the grave, Gojo turned to Yume. “This might feel strange, but I need you to focus. I need you to hold on to who you are, to your essence. Don’t let Sukuna interfere.”

Yume nodded, her resolve strengthening. She could feel Sukuna stirring, his dark presence attempting to push her back, but she fought against it, holding on to Gojo’s words.

Gojo began the ritual, his voice steady as he chanted the ancient incantations. The ground beneath them started to tremble, and the symbols around the grave glowed with a soft, otherworldly light. Gojo’s cursed energy surged, wrapping around Yuji’s body, pulling at the essence of Yume within.

For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was happening. But then, Yume’s presence began to shift. Slowly, her spirit separated from Yuji’s body, drawn towards the grave where her original body lay. Sukuna’s influence roared, trying to pull her back, but Gojo’s energy pushed him away, creating a barrier that he couldn’t penetrate.

As Yume’s spirit moved towards her body, the ground split open, revealing her resting place. The sight of her body, preserved by some ancient magic, was both beautiful and heartbreaking. She looked just as she had before—young, serene, untouched by time.

Gojo’s energy enveloped her, guiding her spirit back to her body. There was a moment of tension, a final struggle as Sukuna tried to regain control, but Gojo’s power was too strong. With a final surge of energy, Yume’s spirit fully entered her body, and the connection was made.

The light around the grave intensified, and then, in an instant, it faded, leaving only the soft glow of the moonlight. For a moment, everything was still. Gojo held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Then, slowly, Yume’s body began to move. Her chest rose and fell with the first breath she had taken in centuries. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the same deep, soulful gaze that Gojo had missed so much.

“Satoru…” Yume’s voice was soft, but it was her own, free from Sukuna’s influence.

Gojo dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and disbelief. He gently took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the realness of her presence. “Yume… you’re really here.”

Yume sat up slowly, her movements tentative as she adjusted to being in her own body again. She looked at Gojo, a smile spreading across her face, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him, holding him close. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

Gojo wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear again. “I told you I wouldn’t let him win,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion he rarely showed.

For a long time, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the moment that neither of them had believed possible. Yume was back, truly back, and Gojo couldn’t have been happier. She was young again, just as she had been before she died, and the sight of her brought a warmth to Gojo’s heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

But even as they embraced, Gojo’s protective instincts remained on high alert. He had Yume back, but he knew that the world they lived in was dangerous, filled with enemies who would seek to harm her, to use her once more. He wouldn’t let that happen. From this moment on, Gojo vowed to keep Yume safe, no matter what.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Gojo said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Yume smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had done the impossible to bring her back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And so, with Yume now by his side in her own body, Gojo Satoru prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they would navigate the dangers of their world, their bond stronger than ever. And no matter what came their way, Gojo knew one thing for certain—he would protect Yume with everything he had, for as long as they both lived.

If you liked this story Buy me a Coffee ;)

[kore-arts]

The Grayson was not the only one who was destined for the Courts Machinations

The Drakes long since had been lower owls. Janet being the only one to truly rise by offering one thing

The child of her womb. One that would have clubs in the afternoon of disguised training. A experiment on a aware Talon who would not just be a weapon. But the eyes and mind sharp enough to tear apart the Rats of Gotham.

Tim spent his days unaware, alone except for his aloof tutors and many checkups by doctors for his chronic illness. He personally thought he was just Meta with his more bird-like tendencies.

His nights spent following the Bats and birds and taking beautiful pictures of his muses in action. nights spent reading books of the history and myths about his city. His parents always did encourage his photography of the scenery and people of Gotham.

Then a Robin lay dead. Batman cruel and cold. Dick Grayson staring at his golden blue eyes with sorrow and confusion of why a child would choose to do something like this. why Tim Drake would attempt to be the reins of The Bat.

The story continues like usual, his cold chest warm from the praise he got from Lady Shiva during his accidental training with her. His smile bright with each case and villain take down.

Bruce was aware that his new bird was unusual, but the court had not shown up yet. So he accepted the clawed boy who's eyes sees what most couldn't. How the bruises and scratches faded within a hour. How he could already move in almost inhuman ways only for Dick to cackle and show Tim how to more.

He didn't dare get close. He never wanted another Robin, dead child, son or Vigilante within his crusade.

He regrets that the night The Drake family Dies. Tim being taken on a trip with his parents finally, a expedition to a Athens temple. Janet Drake being the only survivor but laying in a Coma funded by Bruce Wayne out of guilt.

He regrets that when he sees the heartbreak of the two Supers who hear Tim's heart stop. He regrets when he sees how much Tim was important to so many hero's.

Talon Drake is Always Awake when frozen. He Remembers it all.

[bestiarium]

Taqqiq, the moon spirit [Inuit mythology]

Ever-present in the night sky, the moon plays a central role in countless folktales and myths from around the world. In native Inuit religion, the moon is inhabited by an Inua (supernatural spirit) named Taqqiq, which literally means ‘moon’. This enigmatic but benevolent creature watches over humanity and is responsible for guiding the souls of the dead to the afterlife. He once was a mortal man, and his transformation into the moon spirit is the subject of several different stories. Details differ, but a common version has it that he lusted after his own sister, Siqiniq. According to one tale, he made his advances at night, when it was too dark for her to recognize him. But Siqiniq was clever and smeared her body with black soot. The next morning, she saw Taqqiq’s face was blackened with soot and realized that it had been him. He chased her and she fled into the heavens and turned into the sun spirit.

Taqqiq, still chasing after her, followed his sister into the sky and eventually became the moon spirit, ironically reflecting his sister’s fate. He deeply regrets his actions and tries to make up for them. Perhaps because of this, he is said to sometimes descend to the Earth when women are abused and then saves them. Sometimes, he takes them back with him to the moon, where they live happily as Taqqiq takes care of them.

His outfit is made with gorgeous white fur, and Taqqiq himself is said to be particularly handsome. In some stories, he is said to travel with a troupe of dogs. It is unclear to me where these dogs came from, but they are particularly powerful and large.

The moon spirit is also associated with the hunt: the Polar Inuit believe Taqqiq brought wild animals to the world of the living so that humans could hunt and eat (hunters would sometimes offer prayers to thank him), and in the belief of the Inuit of Baffin Island, these animals are specifically mentioned to be caribou and seals. Iglulik Inuit believe that Taqqiq would bestow good fortune on seal hunters, whereas the people from eastern Greenland believe him to bless whale hunters. Taqqiq is often depicted with his signature whip, which he uses to hit young boys, as it is his role as a spirit to harden them into strong hunters. While this is a harsh (and presumably very traumatic) way to teach a kid a lesson, Taqqiq is regarded as a protector of young boys and defender of the weak.

Source: Taylor, J. G., 1997, Deconstructing deities: Tuurngatsuak and Tuurngaatsuk in Labrador Inuit Religion, Études Inuit Studies, 21 (1/2), pp. 141-158. Christopher, N., 2013, The Hidden: a compendium of arctic giants, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, faeries, and other strange beings from Inuit oral history, 191 pp, p. 178-181. D’Anglure, B. S. and Philibert, J., 1993, The Shaman’s Share, or Inuit Sexual Communism in the Canadian Central Arctic, Anthropologica, Canadian Anthropology Society, 35 (1), pp. 59-103. (image source: Christopher Stevens, painted for Pivut Magazine, Copyright Inhabit Media)

[kanzakurawrites]

Do you have any headcanons about the other parents of the VKs?

YES

Evil Queen used Evie as a servant for most of her life, only stopping when she realized how dirty Evie was getting

Cruella tried to train Carlos with a dog whistle and a spray bottle - but with the water on the Isle being so dirty and likely toxic it caused Carlos to get sick. While Cruella didn't care about that, she didn't want to get sick, so she stopped with the spray bottle, and then with the whistle after finally realizing that he couldn't hear it. (The Isle made her a lot more unstable)

Jafar has tried to arrange marriages for Jay with those on the Isle who might be able to have wealth in Auradon, such as the Evil Step-Granddaughters and the Queen of Hearts daughter, but it never worked out. He's tried multiple times to pair Jay off with Mal.

Gaston takes his boys out "hunting"... make of that what you will.

Gaston also managed to bribe one of the Auradon guards to bring over some chickens and a rooster so each of his boys, and himself, can have five dozen eggs a day.

Hans is actually a pretty decent father. If you ignore the fact that he's taught his kid(s) all his manipulation tactics. That aside, he's also taught them how to read, write, mathmatics, history, etiquet, etc.

Smee loves his kids, but he isn't exactly always there for them. Because of this, Sammy took care of his brothers growing up more than his father did.

Anastasia is a good mom. Along with taking care of her own kids, she takes care of a lot of the orphans on the island. And Dizzy has practically become hers.

On a similar note, Drizella is not a good mother and has A LOT of children, all girls. Some of her girls are as high-strung and rotten as she is, but the younger ones (like Dizzy) have become little "Cinderella's".

Surprisingly, Lady Tremaine tried to stop it, but never succeeded.

Ursula taught Uma all the Greek myths and legends, and would repeatedly tell her that one day they'd get off the island.

While he's an amazing father to Celia, Dr. Facilier wasn't the greatest dad to Freddie and does regret it (even if he won't admit it)

Like Hans, Captain Hook made sure his kids knew how to read and write. He also taught Harriet and Harry how to read maps, create maps, as many constellations as he could remember (many drawn out on paper), swordfighting, and pretty much everything that goes along with being a pirate. (He would have taught CJ, but after his wife's death he pulled away from her - CJ looks the most like the siblings mother)

Mother Gothel treats Ginny like a maid, but isn't the worst parent. The worst she's done is drag on Ginny's appearance to make herself look better (which is bad, but on an island of villains, better than a lot of kids get). Somewhere in her, she might love Ginny, but at the end of the day Mother Gothel is an incredibly selfish woman.

(A similar headcanon that can also be true is that Mother Gothel is actually Ginny's grandmother, and Ginny is Cassandra's daughter only Cassandra willingly let her mother raise Ginny in order to protect her as Cass isn't the most popular on the Isle)

The Huntsman has taught his kids everything he knows and they do animal control - they can't really harm the original hyenas who were thrown on the Isle, but they can take care of the never ones.

Morgana kept having children in hopes that eventually one would transform while under the barrier, but it never happened. Over the course of twenty years, she managed to have 15 children and had to open up her own school.

Edgar lives quietly in his very run down apartment in the square where he and his son run an animal grooming business. With how many "evil animal sidekicks" there are, it goes surprisingly well. He has to leave the room whenever a cat comes in, though, so Eddie does a lot of the word.

Yzma tends to conduct very dangerous experiments in her attempt to do magic.

The Stabbington Brothers have raised their children together, so the Stabbington Cousins are really more like siblings. With that said, the brothers have been determined to raise children who will become better thieves than Flynn Rider, and better fighters than themselves. The fighting has gone good, but the they're never satisfied with the Cousins thievery thanks to Jay always managing to beat them.

[edennill]

During his lifetime, Isildur had always been hailed as a hero. It started very early, that, with the theft of the sapling, and this was never forgotten. And later, after his death, legend added to legend; his prowess in battle, the bravery of his youth, the kingship he wielded, merging into one foundational myth. The Isildur who had once lived might have been glad rather than embarrassed at the statues and songs, but he might have wondered at the long lasting of legend. He might have felt unease at how his failures were all but forgotten. But the dead do not worry about their legacies, though they might know of them.

Near the end of the Third Age, one of his failures was brought out from the depths of history, and suddenly, learned men begun to wonder and rewrite their histories. They did not forget the White Tree, they did not forget the Dagorlad, but the tale they now told became a cautionary tragedy of pride. Not merciless, pitying rather, in most of their mouths, but with the center of weight firmly fixed on that one decision no mortal man could have avoided.

They never painted Isildur as he was, child of the land of mortal dreams that turned to nightmares before his eyes, almost rashly daring youth, leader and king in exile, and all the same man. One who could be obnoxiously proud, but who would have overcome this fault had he not had the misfortune to find the Ring; one who sought to amend this at last -- and who would not have, likely, succeeded in giving the Ring up, but who died with the wish to do so. One who, unlike other characters of legend, regretted the dragging of his own into his mistakes; one who had a lucky end and died terribly, and ignobly, and well. But a king must resign himself to becoming a legend, and he was a king who was a man.