#No inescapable thoughts of death whatsoever

[deathinfeathers]

"Hmhmhm..."

[spitdrunken]

Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons

This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)

To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.

Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.

With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.

Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.

Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.

You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.

He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)

In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.

And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.

One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.

Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.

Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.

One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.

If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.

If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.

All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)

Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.

Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.

He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.

…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.

[bleue-flora]

For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I feel like we should talk about Limbo. Because it’s a interesting topic with lots of space for theories and perhaps this will help us come back to some common ground of discussion, and be an open enough topic to allow everyone, whether someone who just joined the fandom or has been here for years, to hopefully feel safe and welcome enough to join in and share their thoughts and opinions. Go ahead and use the tag #dsmp limbo so I can see your thoughts, there is no right or wrong answer here.

To start off the discussion, we know the time dilation based on what Wilbur has said is about 30/1 - meaning every 1 second is 30 seconds in limbo, every 2 minutes is 1 hour in limbo, every 48 minutes is 1 day in limbo, every 1 day is a about 1 month in limbo and so on just to give you perspective. We also know based on both what happens in the finale and by what Dream says in the finale, that Limbo changes based on how you die and the circumstances around your death.

Now here are my thoughts at the moment on the matter. While a lot of times I see Limbo in fanfics more personalized to the person killed, one theory I came up with to explain Limbo is that it is actually is more connected to the situation around the death and killer/death.

For example, Schlatt died of a stroke and his limbo then becomes a gym, themeing off the fact of becoming healthy and fit something he wasn’t in life. That lead to his nation being taken over and him not being physically capable to stop it as well as him dying to a stroke, which we are encouraged to believe is caused by his alcoholism.

But I feel like perhaps Schlatt’s is the easiest to connect, Wilbur’s on the other hand is a little weirder. But I think the train station is actually connected to Philza having just arrived, so the relation to travel. Trains are often kept on a schedule to be on time and Philza’s appearance is just in time to kill Wilbur, but too late to stop him from pushing the button.

Mexican Dream’s limbo then reflects more of Dream than of Mexican Dream. With an empty, unfinished nation not unlike how empty and isolated Dream likely felt, as well as angry about nations for being the cause.

This theory becomes a little stronger when looking at Tommy’s 1st Limbo being an existence of basically nothing. And I think this reflects how Dream kinda has nothing at this point. Also relating to how Tommy killed the cat (and am I miss remembering that he also burned his clock?) the only thing(s) Dream had left. It could alternatively relate to an empty stomach adding an element from his death being from the potato.

Rambo’s limbo then connects to Sam for a few reasons, one I think Sam felt very alone in his efforts to keep Dream locked up. Like only he could do it and no one was helping him. It is also similar in the fact that Sam felt so cornered and trapped like killing Ranboo was the only thing he could do, similar to how one would feel stuck on a tiny island surrounded by water that burns. It’s also interesting since for Ranboo, the island is also inescapable like the prison and he is only able to leave when Mexican Dream comes (like Dream only escaping prison when Techno comes), oh and Sam lives on an island too.

Then finally Tommy’s 2nd Limbo I think pretty clearly relates to Tommy asking before he died about why and how Dream saw things, and Dream’s comment of “everything was fine before you came!” so Limbo shows Tommy Dream’s pov at the beginning. Reflecting how Dream feels, his - “I just don’t want to ever be alone.”

Anyways, hopefully that made some sense, those are just some thoughts I have at the moment. Now I wanna hear yours. :) How do you think limbo works? What do you think Punz’s and Dream’s Limbos were? What were Vik’s, Lazar’s and Connor’s Limbos? What do you think would have been Tubbo’s, Techno’s or other character’s Limbos? How was Quackity able to visit Schlatt’s Limbo in the Las Nevadas stream?…

[soullessjack]

fave saw trap?

OOHH oh my god okay I have so many.

Obligatory reverse bear trap mention bc who doesn’t love her, she’s mother. she is the beginning with John and Amanda and she is the end with Jill and Mark, she brings the narrative to a full circle despite her mechanical function being the opposite.

THE BATHROOM TRAP!!!!!! Obsessed with it. The shades of blue and white and the fluorescent lights, the grimy browns and greens and reds, all so absolutely beautiful together. Really pulls you into the dampness and coldness and the filth of it. Obligatory chainshipping mention also. Love those guys. Very normal about them.

the angel trap and its’ fatality is so so visually beautiful to me. she mothers extremely hard (god rest Kerry tho). truly one of the artsiest of the traps. I love the warmish shade of green in the room, and in the acid, and of course I love it contrasting with the red shade of the ribcage gore.

glass coffin for obvious reasons.. mark is soooo delicious in it with his hair all messy and his nose bleeding and his tits propped up I mean what hahah who said that . and I absolutely love the cold shade of blue it gives off, very lovely contrast with marks nosebleed also. and the whole coffinshipping thing. like it’s such a trust-based trap ironically. like, “you know what I’ve done you know who I am you know I am guilty and cannot be trusted whatsoever but will you throw away all of that and trust me anyways, is your will to survive strong enough to trust someone who ostensibly does not deserve it.” so delicious

I don’t like Jigsaw but I will admit the hot wax trap looked pretty cool, definitely one of the scariest of the movie. if you’ve ever seen 2005’s House of Wax it gives the same literally suffocating and uncomfortable feeling as Jared Padalecki’s character’s wax coating (and the horrendous peeling of it) bc you’re watching someone in such a helpless horrible position and relegated only to watching it.

the death mask is another super cool visual trap, love the green tint, love the spikes, even Michael’s eye injury looked cool! the snapping kill at the end was definitely cool too.

the nerve gas house 100% fav. I love saw 2 very dearly, both for Daniel and Amanda and for Mudvayne’s Forget To Remember song in the credits. I didn’t enjoy most of the traps in the house, mostly bc I felt like they could’ve been easily avoided or thought out better (but in the victims’ defense they were actively being poisoned) and also bc I wasn’t very attached to anyone outside of Danny and Mandy. Love the atmosphere of the house, the grime and dim fluorescence and yellow-greens (as a graphic designer warm tints like that are very good at giving off a sense of humidity and feverishness, really adds to the nerve gas poisoning and the claustrophobia of the house, too).

the horsepower trap. quick bonus for the green and yellows tints, but also I’m personally very drawn to settings with mechanical clutter. I’m not mechanically inclined in any way but visually I love looking at them and figuring out what they do. based mark for putting nazis in an inescapable trap also! the kills are deliciously brutal. the skin ripping scene, the windshield crash, the face smashing, and my absolute favorite has to be the arm/jaw yanking (specifically the jaw, idk I just think it’s neat. maybe not neat , per se, but one of those extremely gruesome things that you just can’t look away from. no pun intended it’s like a car crash).

the Mausoleum Trap. love the setting, a trap in a fucking mausoleum is metal as fuck. more traps should have spooky settings like that I think (a morgue trap would go so fucking hard also). love the colors, basically I love the entire concept but the execution could’ve bene way better (which can be said about a lot of 3D’s themes, especially the See/Hear/Speak/Do No Evil ones).

[erstwhilesparrow]

howdy! it's day 1 of MCYT fanfic appreciation week, and i was wondering if you had any future writing projects or other ideas that you wanted an excuse to talk about :D no pressure whatsoever to answer this ask, just thought i'd reach out ♡

oh, hello! howdy! :D what a nice question!

hm... i mean, there's a bunch! here's some thoughts i've been vaguely rotating, with the note that i might just never get around to writing any of these:

pearl/lizzie secret life fic. i'm really really into the ways that pearl, having had time to process double life, maybe looks at lizzie and goes, "oh, you're like me. let me help you?" i am additionally interested in the ways this relationship can get complicated: lizzie is importantly not like double life pearl because while DL!pearl was inescapably noticed -- known as the demonness, as the one with no soulmate -- lizzie keeps getting overshadowed / ignored / forgotten. lizzie's been inside pearl's head (limited life). lizzie's also SO deeply distrusting of everyone, and i need to write about pearl carefully doing the death game equivalent of courting her because pearl has A Whole Thing about being able to take care of her allies. i would really like to write about all of this.

team rancher double life time loop fic? jimmy's trapped in a time loop and he has no idea why. important elements: tango is nice, but in that slightly awkward way you're nice to people you don't know, and jimmy has to re-confront how little they actually know each other (or. how little tango knows him.) every time the loop resets. jimmy thinks he's doing the best and most correct thing by sticking by his game-assigned soulmate; what they have is Real And Good, Unlike Whatever Scott And Cleo Are Doing. they build a house together, and it looks nice, and despite everything they're doing okay, and they still die at the end and everything resets because down under the surface of this world, something is deeply, deeply wrong.

hm. content warning for cannibalism on this one? and also note that this idea came from DMs with @cohnal , is technically its idea :] canon divergence where martyn survives that final battle with desert duo and co in 3rd life but ren still doesn't. this wouldn't be thematic at all and i don't actually believe martyn would've allowed that battle to end with ren dead and him alive, but i do need martyn to eat his king's corpse. i need him miserable and grieving and still doing it because like hell if he's going to let anyone else touch ren.

[letters-from-a-psychward]

Friday 13th of October

Day II, Memory I

⚠️‼️TW: S3XU@L A$$@ULT‼️⚠️

Today, in my bored ennui, I found myself scrolling through the dreary, inescapable cage that is social media. This - to new minds - is an action that is so heavily, comfortingly addictive, the muscle memory of it can be found etched into the flesh of our brains from the moment we are born.

What caught my attention, awoke me from my thumb-scrolling-sleep, was a woman speaking of her medusa tattoo. Tattoos have always intrigued me - meaningful ones, at least - through their philosophy.

It seems, as young as I am, that our minds are easier to carve than I originally anticipated. It is this idea of carving memories, thoughts, ideas, etc into skin that interests me most.

His hands on my body, his voice in my ear, his breath on my face… these are moments etched so heavily into

my mind that ink in skin seems unnecessary, for he has already inked himself into my very blood. I do not understand how so many who have suffered just as I, have found the courage to embroider painted copies of the scars left on their minds into their skin. I myself, have always been embarrassed by the scars he left in my head.

What I do understand, to any extent, is the painful, torturous comfort one might seek in lovely Medusa’s story.

In the most popular roman retelling of the story, victim Medusa seeks Athena’s protection from Poseidon, and is met with disgusted hatred, and a curse that (to Medusa) was worse than death.

Though the story reminds me of wounds barely stitched closed, I find a sickening comfort in the idea that others have suffered as I do, in this story that echoes my own… After all, he was the Poseidon and the Athena of my story.

Isn’t it funny how we seek solace from the things that hurt us most of all?

However, it is the original tale that I find myself stuck upon most of all, for in this version of Medusa’s story, she was born a gorgon, had lived her entire life as the “monster” she is viewed as today.

This tale brings me absolutely no comfort whatsoever, only a twisted, sneering, overwhelming sense of fear. Guilt, even.

What if I have always been the monster he turned me into brought out in me?

~ b.s.

[earthplanet]

The Beach (Death through the Aesthetics of Life)

For whatever reason, I find it challenging to look at natural beauty and feel any bit moved. It's not that I reject the average opinion, I simply cannot recognize what something like the sunset or the beach is supposed to invoke in me. My inability to recognize natural beauty not only makes me feel defective, but also left out. My friend Kathryn calls the beach “her church”. To understand what Kathryn might see when she looks at the beach and to humanize myself, this snippet attempts to give semantic substance to what others apparently already see immediately. 

The next few jargony paragraphs mean to give context to the poetic maneuvers which make up my actual thought. There’s no need to understand the jargon, I just don’t want to spring anything on the reader.

On most philosophical questions I vibe with a group called the "phenomenologists".  Phenomenology is a strain of thought still embryonic within the influential thought of philosopher Immanuel Kant, but relayed through the later work of proper phenomenologists. I will take my conception of beauty from Kant and mature it into something the phenomenologists might have approved.

I often hear lay people ask the profound question: "how do we know we know something?". Philosophers phrase it: how do we know it "in and of itself". The phenomenological tradition essentially unravels this question rather than exactly solving it. They would say: the idea of "things-in-and-of-themselves" illustrates that knowing itself is something unique to experience and thus is always on the only terms it ever could be for humans but, more importantly, for anything whatsoever. And so, knowing is just knowing and that's that. So, we shouldn't be afraid of the infinite regress: "how do I know that x, but how do I know how I know that x...etc".

All this is to say, beauty and everything else gets to the core of the thing regardless of whether we choose to pay attention to it or not. The question is thus: what kind of beautiful experience unfurls itself to us as "the beach"?

Kant's conception of Beauty or "the sublime" as he calls it, is a force which pulls us outside our finite lives and into something wholly other; the experience of which is the embodiment of Beauty or awe. We thus transcend the finite and behold the infinite when we feel the sublime. (Somehow), beauty points toward transcendence. And, to Kant, this invokes a spasm in our feelings that is the experience of Beauty.

It stands to reason however, that all artworks or beautiful things do this in their own peculiar way and so looking at any one painting or any other landscape won't evoke the same feeling of Beauty as another. Each perspective has its unique feeling.

I want to say what is unique about the beach is that, suddenly, it ends. You have reached a boundary that doesn't exist around most land on earth and beyond which you and society ends. Well, that's kind of an exaggeration. Swimming and wading in the water challenge that boundary. But you cannot go closer and closer into the impossible vastness of the ocean. That is because the boundary, the end, is not a wall—it's the finitude of your existence made inescapable through the presence of infinity. You become the boundary.

The beach presents infinity precisely through our own finitude. The beach presents the precise infinitude belonging to our finitude. Delivered to the sheer limitlessness of our own limits, the beach disrobes a finitude usually hidden in everyday life. Unable to ignore this essential part of the beach, without which the beach is unrecognizable, we become victims of its spectacle. We become involuntary voyeurs. Not even our limits remain our own; forcing open the privacy called “memory”, the beach renders foreign what is usually the immediacy of our limits. The limits we thought were themselves precisely because they were ours—our mortality, our successes, and our weaknesses—all of these begin to lose their reality. We are made nomads from our own most intimate elements. Conversely, our claim over them must have obscured our limits from us. Clarified through alienation, we are at the same time robbed of what was once most clear.

Humanity, struggle, life, hope, etc. In short, ‘life (et al)’. These are what the beach withholds from us once faced with our presence. The inhuman, acquiescence, death, despair, etc; ‘death (et al)’. These are what the beach covertly presents to us. "Covertly", because absence doesn't imply presence. The absence of life does not always mean death. Many things neither live nor die. And so, the inhuman, acquiescence, death and despair are only invoked 

It’s important that the beach offers these limits covertly, because they are covert in the sense that we treat them as things which preclude life (et al.)’s counterpart, when in reality they are just the absence of somethings. All absences are identical (and all presences different). Only in the place of this absence can something exist. The limits are more like empty structures or forms, not “things” with substance or content. Every possibility not implied by death (et. al.) but which lies beyond the death which is ours but beyond reach and the life which remains hidden as translucent becomes its content. From within what the beach withholds is thus exactly everything else, but made to erupt from the finitudes characteristic of human existence and tinted only through the very fact we are alive experiencing it. The content of the finitude we find at the beach is thus the particular infinity of everything beyond the inhuman, loss, death and despair. While the finitude was always there, it takes the beach's beauty to force all pretension from distracting us from it. The finitudes are thereby neutralized.

When we find beauty in the beach, these characteristically human finitudes cease to be obstructions from feeling our finitude. Instead, they are transformed into gateways from which we can see the infinite possibilities within their neutrality.

The beach is the abundance of life within and beyond the reality of your death and Death in general. But, more importantly, the beach's beauty makes tangible the superhuman abundance which continues beyond any one of our deaths. Every last virtue we find before death, the beach makes tangible the permanence of something within but beyond us. Without the distractions of mortal life, the beach presents possibilities for us which cannot be our own but which we are allowed to experience.

[automatismoateo]

I do not only not believe in god, I hope he doesn't exist. via /r/atheism

I do not only not believe in god, I hope he doesn't exist.

I find comfort in the thought that at least reality allows us the courtesy of finite suffering, but what a horrible scenario it would be to be deprived of freedom even in death... to think that we'd eventually be liberated but find an inescapable eternal prison on the other side. It invokes a feeling of claustrophobia, the sensation of entrapment within tightly-spaced walls... nothing invokes more despair than the thought of staying within the confines of a forever prison cell.

If what awaits us after death is a merciful and loving creator welcoming us to the pearly gates of heaven, then I would very much like for me to be proven wrong in my atheism and for this possibility to be true. But if hell is involved, if there exists even just a single condemned soul forever consumed by the flames, then I would not only not believe... but I would hope that I am right.

In the words of Thomas Nagel:

"I want atheism to be true and am made uneasy by the fact that some of the most intelligent and well-informed people I know are religious believers. It isn't just that I don't believe in God and, naturally, hope that I'm right in my belief. It’s that I hope there is no God! I don’t want there to be a God; I don’t want the universe to be like that."

When I imagine this fiery realm called hell, this place religious texts describe in such disgustingly vivid imagery of gore and blood and screams... I truly do hope there is no God. I do not want even a single soul condemned to all eternity... not a single one, even if I'm guaranteed heaven myself. Simply because no crime whatsoever is infinitely punishable, and the condemnation of disbelief as a crime is itself arbitrary.

At one point in the infinity of torture, the criminal ceases to be the one who committed the crime. The agony erases the soul's identity and the memories of the past life it once led, and it becomes the embodiment of pain itself. It ceases to be a person that once sinned... can you punish a criminal who is no longer convicted? They become reduced to nothing more than a forever tormented soul, a consciousness suspended in the hot and suffocating fiery air of hell, receiving none but pain signals. This is my mental conception of hell: a red and fiery realm that is home to billions of, not people, but forever tormented receptacles of pain. If god ever created people then they are no longer there... those who are tormented in hell are nothing more than the metaphysical receivers of the pain signals god has created, no longer people. Like a digital receiver, completely impersonal and without an identity... except sentient, and in pain.

The very idea of infinite torment is not only incompatible with an omnibenevolent being, but it's also the epitome of cruelty and sadism... and believing in it reflects a lack of empathy. I don't want the universe to be the reign of a supremely sadistic cosmic dictator.

"I don't want the universe to be like that".

Submitted December 30, 2022 at 04:16PM by DispozableHero86 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/daBGwfR)

[graffitibible]

There's nowhere to go save for on the roof, and even then you can still hear the distant buzz of your crew's voices through the thin, weatherbeaten paneling. It's the closest to a break from them that you can get. You're distracted, but not so distracted that you don't hear the sound of someone else mounting the roof.

"This seat taken?" says Pony, cocking one thick eyebrow.

Sigh, shake your head, and scoot over to allow them room to settle down beside you. They do so, legs stretched out in front of them so that they almost dangle off the edge. Almost, but not quite. Pony's not one of your crew so they're significantly more tolerable company just now. Anything is a welcome break from the stifling inescapability of the same four people you must share your life and your space with, without any deviation.

"They're still giving you shit for that," says Pony, shaking their head ruefully. "Unbelievable."

"That ain't the problem," you say shortly.

"No?" says Pony. "Shame."

And without any fanfare whatsoever, they pop off their left leg.

You stare for a long moment while Pony detaches their leg at the knee and lays the apparent prosthetic that constitutes their shin, foot, and ankle across their lap. It occurs to you only then that you've never seen their legs bared to the elements like this. They favor lurid patterns like polka dots and stripes, clothing their legs in all manner of eye-searing leggings. Even if they didn't douse themself in a clusterfuck of clashing colors you're not sure you would have noticed the discrepancy between where their leg ends and where the prosthetic begins. It's skinned in tinted bio-mesh, and on first glance it looks startlingly real. Suspect that if you were to touch it, it'd feel more or less like touching human skin. The place where it attaches is molded to fit against the scarred stump that ends their leg at the knee.

"That's city tech," you say slow. There's no question that it's city tech. Sure, plenty of people in the Zones have all sorts of prosthetics they've had to jerry-rig together from whatever's on hand, but those tend to be, by necessity, fairly obvious. This one here is undeniably high-grade.

"Mmmm," says Show Pony, pulling the sound out lazily without looking at you. "Less tough to get your hands on than you'd think."

"On city tech?" You're unable to keep the skepticism out of your tone.

"If you know Tommy Chow Mein then you know every sleeper cell in the city," says Pony, matter-of-fact, "and if Tommy can't get you quality city goods then a sleeper cell definitely can. For the right price."

"Sleeper cell." Frown, feeling out the shape of the word in your memory. You've heard the term before you think, but the specifics escape you.

"How else do you think we get news from what's going on behind Bat City walls?" Pony asks, tilting their head slightly to smirk at you in a way that doesn't quite reach their eyes. They do this with the same effortless quality that they slide into everything else. "City folk gotta make their own kinda noise."

You've never thought overmuch about the kinds of people who must do their fighting from within the city. It's not something that's frequently discussed within the Zones, in part because...you imagine it must not be a very tenable existence. For however harsh and unyielding the conditions of the desert are, to try and make one's way within Better Living's shadow sounds...worse.

"Must know some of them pretty well, to score somethin' like that." Nod at the prosthetic as the Pony opens a discrete set of paneling laid into it. Beneath the exterior, the internal mechanisms are a convoluted snarl of alloyed metal, pins and holders and circuitry. The part of you bored half to death with your extended stay aches to touch the machinery, just to have something new to bury your hands in. You don't, of course. That's part of someone's body. It's not yours to simply lay your hands on whenever you like.

"Just gotta know people in the right places," says Pony. They wink at you. Ignore this. There's a watchful undercurrent to their playful, almost flirtatious approach to damn near everything and you know better than to take it at face value.

If you didn't know them as well as you do, you'd think that they're doing this to cheer you up or keep you company or some equally pointless endeavor. You know them better than that; they wouldn't care and even if they did they know your crew well enough to understand the behavior that drove you to the roof as ordinary.

The entire thing strikes you as more than a little suspicious.

"I don't need your pity,” you snap abruptly, apropos of nothing and a bit more forcefully than is perhaps warranted, considering how even-handed the conversation has been thus far. But it's usually best to be on the defensive with the Pony.

Show Pony snorts, nonplussed.

"You really are Party Poison's little brother, aren't you?" they mutter. "No, dipshit, I'm up here because you're good with tech and you know how to keep your mouth shut, unlike Ghoul."

Process this.

"Oh.”

"Anyway,” says Pony with a sort of determined casualness, "this thing won't latch in properly and hasn't been for the past week. I can't get a good angle on it. You feel like figuring this out for me?"

You don't think there's anything you can say that makes your now disproportionately rude preemptive retort any easier to bear, so just nod.

"Careful with this shit, Kid," says Show Pony, though they say it without any real incense. "Hard to get replacement parts these days. Don't break anything."

"Don't tempt me," you say with your tongue between your teeth, and again Show Pony smirks at you. They smile the same way Poison does, uneven and askew, and this time it pulls something answering out of you.

[weky-woof]

> Portal thoughts - Portal 1

(disclaimer: I haven't actually played the games myself, sorry! i have no means to atm, but i hope ill be able to soon and that that doesn't put you off!)

You ever think about how GLaDOS's death trap in Portal 1 seems... bland? It's not an inescapable situation by any means, just portalling through a wall allows you to escape - granted, there's a fair amount of opportunities to miss that portal or that jump and die anyway due to clumsiness - but... It seems underwhelming, especially considering how sinisterly GLaDOS speaks. It... almost feels like she wanted her to escape, but that's obviously not the case: Chell's escape is one of the few sequences where GLaDOS is genuinely panicking and badly conceals it. Besides, Chell was listed as abnormally tenacious and determined, and GLaDOS is smart. She probably knew Chell should be dead as soon as possible so that she could continue having her fun.

Interestingly, GLaDOS is playing a game herself, and she has set rules in order to make the game funcional. Aperture likely didn't kill its subjects intentionally after every test: that'd be a terrible idea in almost every aspect, but she set up that system herself. She's like a cat playing with a litter of mice, taking her time to play with them before killing them simply out of satisfaction - this is gonna turn into a post about how much i love her as a rogue AI character if I don't stop 😭 - but her game has rules.

It's actually really interesting, like: she allows the test subjects as much time as needed to solve tests. At most she complains or drops passive-aggressive remarks under the guise of being a pre-recorded voice, but she allows them time to figure out the puzzles. She's patient, and she's willing to wait for a greater reward (and most chilling of all, it's not testing euphoria, just personal satisfaction at the entertainment the subjects provide her with and the fact that they inch closer towards their death).

So why didn't she make the end of Test Chamber 19 more foolproof? She's all-powerful and it is in her interest to kill her subjects efficiently as if on a conveyor belt... So, what's with the simple incinerator? It's implied that GLaDOS killed everyone before Chell with no problem.

Well, there's a reason!

Regardless if you play the game or say, watch a playthrough, Portal at its core (hehe :]) is just a cool-looking puzzle game. Despite its first-person perspective, in its essence it's interesting, and worthy to continue playing - but imagine being a test subject waking up in a now defunct facility, being forced to test by a strange robotic voice you've never heard before and with absolutely no human presence whatsoever. GLaDOS can't resist being sarcastic and putting down her subjects for fun, not to mention that the tests must be physically exhausting and often dangerous, both from chamber hazards and using the ASHPD itself. The number of chambers isn't so large, but the irresponsible test environment, pressure, doubt and mounting dread would take their toll on anyone who's susceptible to losing determination - and most importantly, hope. GLaDOS apparently finds human behavior and playing with it interesting, like the Companion Cube experiment. She does her best to create a soulless, scary and hopeless environment that she enjoys for its effects on humans. This also plays into the cake promise as being more effective - it's a tiny but pleasant reward that a tired, possibly injured and forcibly complacent person might look forward to!

[child-of-hurin]

So I’m thinking of a Narn AU where Húrin isn’t set on Thangorodrim and remains a prisoner in the fortress. His children are still cursed and he is still regularly shown images of them but it doesn’t take up all his time as it does in canon. I bring this up because I was curious what you think about how much of the bad things that befall Túrin and Niënor were explicitly planned before. Because I’ve always thought that the compelled incest part was at least in some way planned before and was very specifically about Húrin watching the ruining of his bloodline (which goes back to my other cursed HCs) in addition to the suffering it would bring his children.

Anyways no pressure to answer or anything I was just curious if this was something you had thought about

-@outofangband

(Disclaimer: I haven’t read much of the HoME besides what pertains the Narn, meaning I haven’t read any extended material on Melkor and so on.)

Honestly this is a very interesting question that I have posed myself before. It brings to mind this passage:

[Transcript:

Report of the Dragon-helm in the land west of Sirion came swiftly to the ear of Morgoth, and he laughed, for now  (1) Túrin was revealed to him again, who had long been lost in the shadows and under the veils of Melian. (2) Yet he began to fear that Túrin would grow to such a power that the curse that he had laid upon him would become void, and he would escape the doom that had been designed for him, or else that he might retreat to Doriath and be lost to his sight again. (3) Now therefore he had a mind to seize Túrin and afflict him even as his father, to torment him and enslave him.]

My conclusions here are:

(1) Melkor’s ‘eye’, which Húrin had been forced to access as well, couldn’t penetrate Doriath under Melian’s power. Makes me think the whole time Túrin was growing up, Melkor had Húrin watch Morwen and Nienor’s growing misery in Dor-Lómin instead?

(2) Everyone has talked about this a hundred times because it is so incredible. So the doom was defeatable? So, cosmically speaking, there was some validation in Túrin’s methods of seeking war and power? Much to think about

(3) This bit is the only passage I can recall where instead of vague threats, the text gives us a concrete plan of Melkor’s for this family. When he sets Glaurung forth, we have absolutely no idea whether his actions were meticulously planned by Melkor, a mastermind, or just strokes of Glaurung’s own evil creative genius as derivated from Melkor’s will or whatever.

So. My opinion is that it isn’t a plan. First and foremost because I hate the anime villain type who was secretly controlling all the variables of the game, but also because I genuinely don’t get this aesthetic from Melkor/Tolkien. Melkor’s power is godlike; it doesn’t come from logic control over the material world, but from a more intimate relationship with what makes the material world itself. 

Thinking of two events: one, when Melkor releases Húrin. Melkor has changed and posioned Húrin’s spirit, but Húrin isn’t aware of that. Húrin still hates Melkor, but, as we see in the Wanderings, he is still an agent of Melkor (to use a term @promin-blog​ used in [that interesting meta post you reblogged recently]). Compare that to Niënor, to whom something very similar happens: Glaurung poisons her spirit and then sets her free.

In my understanding, in neither of those two situations did Melkor or Glaurung know exactly what was going to be the outcome; they just knew it was going to be bad for their captives, and thus, good for them. Melkor is a being of chaos against the benign order of the world, so he fundamentally gains from an increase in the chaos, or a corruption in the order of the world. So when he explains the curse to Húrin, he says:

‘You say it,’ said Morgoth. ‘I am the Elder King: Melkor, first and mightiest of all the Valar, who was before the world, and made it. The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will. But upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. Wherever they go, evil shall arise. Whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. Whatsoever they do shall turn against them. They shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.’

I take that at face value in terms of, this is literally how it works. He didn’t know exactly that Húrin would kill Mîm, bring the Nauglamír to Thingol, then fight with his once-beloved Haladin kin and cause their destruction, just like I don’t think Glaurung knew Niënor would find Túrin, fall in love with him and have his child. BUT they knew releasing these poisoned agents would benefit their cause one way or another. (I do think Melkor presumed correctly that Húrin might try to find Gondolin though! Hence the spies). So I guess I don’t agree with you that the incest was pre-planned, although I do think the ruining of Húrin’s bloodline was definitely a huge point that, in Melkor’s mind, was probably inevitable. If Túrin had, say, had a baby with Finduilas, Melkor would have gotten a hold of that baby too, at some point... I think when he says he is the master of the Fates of Arda, he means that his will has too powerful a hold over Arda to be broken, and not, necessarily, that he controls every detail of it.

That makes me think of that passage you mentioned recently in your blog:

“But ever the Noldor feared most the treachery of their own kin who had been thralls in Angband; for Morgoth used some of them for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad; but their wills were chained to his and they strayed only to come back to him again” (”Of the Ruin of Beleriand”, p188, The Silmarillion)

It makes me wonder how many of these elves were, like Maeglin, aware of their own collaboration, and how many might have hated Melkor their whole lives while still being agents of his will 😬

It’s a super depressing thing, this possiblity that the Narn puts forth, of an otherwise free person being permanently and inescapably ruined for as long as you hold your material existance in this realm. It is the ultimate corruption of free will, because it means no matter which choices you make, they will always come to evil. You’re helpless: intent doesn’t matter, hard work doesn’t matter. I think it’s fitting with Melkor being a god, after all! That’s why it’s relevant that out of the five members of this family, only one is directly murdered by Melkor’s actions. The others take their own lives, although more indirectly in the case of Morwen - the only one who “was not conquered”. The rest of them, Túrin, Nienor, and Húrin, end up choosing death as an escape, and I think it is in a way because they ultimately understand that Melkor is playing on a godlike level that they, as mortals, cannot reach.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER DEPRESSING THING. We, as readers, have the benefit of knowing that Mandos exists and Eru exists and the Ainulindale happened. We have also read about Beren’s spirit lingering in Mandos waiting for Lúthien. So we ASSUME there is an afterlife for the second-born. We know Tolkien envisioned that, spiritual man that he was. But in the narrative, mortals themselves don’t have any reassurance of that! 

So this exchange here becomes even more chilling:

So? 

Did he lie?

[damienthepious]

no lizard this tuesday. have some pre-canon rilla/damien smoochin and discussion of [checks notes] uh death!!! it’s fun!!! im stress’d

No Aching Necessary

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Tuesday, Established Relationship, (im POSTING this for LKT but i won't put it in the tag because arum ain't here.), (maybe if i ever pin down a follow up for this feat. the lizard? perhaps.), self-sacrificing idiot vibes, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Pre-Canon, Communication, discussions of uhhhh death

Summary: Sir Damien feels love like self-immolation. Rilla feels a little bit differently about it.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, because Sir Damien is nothing if not dramatic, and sir "self sacrifice is a knightly virtue!" seemed like the type to say this particular phrase on repeat. Basically just wanted to unpack all that I guess?? anywayyyy no thoughts brain scrampled egg. also this may have a part two someday? maybe? idk. there's potential.

~

Love, for Sir Damien, feels...

Eternal, and holy, and sacrificial. As in, it sounds of yet another litany in his mind, alongside the song of prayer to Saint Damien, alongside pleas for Tranquility, alongside fear and doubt and fortitude. I love you becomes too big for itself, it transforms, rather quickly, into-

"I would die for you."

Rilla stares at him the first time he says it, furrowing her brow, her dark eyes filled with concern. He kisses her frowning lips, gentle and aching, and when she kisses back her grip is possessive, firm, sturdy, and Damien melts against her as easy as wax beneath the flame.

The second time it bubbles out of him in helpless delight. She rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand almost too hard as she pulls him along to the next booth at the festival, distracting him with games and laughter until the throbbing of his heart eases into something more like joy.

The third time she only says I'll see you tomorrow, Damien, and glares hard at his back as he returns to the Citadel.

The fourth time he presses their bodies together and breathes it against her lips and-

She rolls him onto his back, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip and making him squeak and gasp, and when she pulls back she presses one hand to each of his shoulders, and the fury on her face is nearly thunderous.

"What's that thing you keep calling me, Damien?" she asks, inarguable and stern.

Damien blinks, panting as he stares up at her in confusion and desire and, suddenly, rising worry.

"Wh-what?"

"What is it that you call me? That romantic, poetic little name you have," she repeats, moving one hand from his shoulder to his neck, thumbing at his pulse.

"I…" Damien swallows, feeling her hand against the column of his throat. "M-my- my forever-flower?" he tries, his voice weak and wavering, and Rilla's eyes flash as the hand on his shoulder squeezes.

"If I'm yours," she says, her dark eyes utterly serious, her gaze inescapable, "your flower, then you're mine, Damien."

"Always," Damien breathes, and she blinks for half a heartbeat, apparently not expecting his easy (eager) acquiescence.

She shifts even closer, her voice lowering in both volume and tone. "You're mine," she says again. "And I intend to keep you, for as long as I am physically capable."

"A-ah." Damien's heart thuds, some delicious thrill at the idea of being kept. That she would- that she does want him, that she wants him enough to say things like that-

"Which means," she continues, her palm still warm against his throat as her other hand sinks into his hair, her nails tickling his scalp, "you need to stick around to be mine. I don't wanna hear you say anything like that to me. Understand?"

"But... but it's true, my love. I would die for-"

"You'd better not," she growls - growls, her eyes flashing, and a delicious shiver runs down Damien's spine - and her grip on his hair tightens, carefully angling his face up so that he looks her in the eye. "I want you, I love you, and I don't want anything to do with you dying."

"Rilla..." Damien swallows, looking down and away for a moment before he meets Rilla's eye again, hesitant. "You know, of course... I am a knight, my love, my flower. Each day, each mission is a risk. I take those risks willingly, knowing that I face potential fatality for the sake of my Saint and my Citadel. And, now... for you."

Rilla frowns hard, and then she kisses him harder, her hands firm and inarguable in his hair and on his neck for one long, searing moment before she pulls away again, and some of that righteousness on her face fades, her brow creased with distress.

"There's a difference between understanding the mortality rate of your career and you, apropos of nothing, claiming that you wanna throw your dead body at my feet, Damien. It's not romantic, it's not comforting, and I don't want to hear you say it. Why would you think that I would want to hear you say that? No one is asking you to die for me. I want you. I love you. And I can't fucking love you if you're dead, and especially not if you're dead for no goddamn reason."

"I never said-" Damien pants, his words slipping from his mind like trying to snatch a ribbon from the current of a river. "Not for no reason, it isn't as if-"

"Would you want me to say that?" she says, her voice almost- almost keening, beneath her frustration. "Do you want me to be eager to die for you?"

Damien lifts his hands, gripping Rilla's sides as if to keep her there.

"There is no reason whatsoever for you to even consider-"

"You can't know that for sure. Neither of us can. It isn't just your job that's dangerous Damien, it's the whole damn world. So, what if I do? What if I want to die for you, too? Does that make you feel good about our relationship?"

"I- well, I-"

"Does it make you feel good to think about me dying for you, or does it make you feel terrified?"

Terrified. Needless to say.

Needless, of course; Rilla's glare eases at the look on his face, at the way he freezes beneath her hands like startled prey.

"Exactly," she says, muted and gentle, and then she draws her hand through his hair, her other raising enough to cup his jaw. "I know... I know that being a knight is dangerous. I know because of how many times I've had to put one back together. Even just by how many times I've had to put you back together, even. I know- I know, intellectually, that losing you-"

She pauses, her breath doing something strange, her dark eyes too bright, suddenly.

"Rilla..."

She scowls as he wraps his arms around her middle. "I know it's a possibility. I know it's- likely, even," she says more fiercely. "But that doesn't mean I want to hear you say it, and it doesn't mean I want you to sound so goddamn eager to die. Got it?"

"I'm- I'm not- I don't-"

Eagerness does not come into it. Damien knows, though-

Damien knows what Rilla knows. As she has just quietly, sadly confirmed. The life of a knight is risk, inherent. More accurately, the life of a knight is sacrifice: his own safety in exchange for the protection of the citizens of the Citadel. The same exchange Sir Damien promised, in his heart, so many years ago to his Saint. It is likely, extremely likely, that Sir Damien will die in the service of his Saint and his Citadel.

And Rilla-

Rilla. Kneeling above him, curled down to place her forehead against his own, holding his face in her hands.

He would die for her. His heart aches for her, resounds like a bell in his chest, and he would die for her just as readily as he would die for his Saint, or his Queen. That is what she means to him, her equivalent place in his heart, what she does to him. He-

She bites his collarbone, sharp and sudden, and Damien yelps.

"Rilla!"

"You were thinking it again," she mutters, darkly, and then she kisses that same spot, feather light. "I just- I love you too much to hear you care so little about yourself." She lifts her face towards his, then, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Please. If you love me-"

"I do. My love for you burns like a wildfire, races like a waterfall, it fills me like-"

"Then you have to look out for yourself too, because I love you. And- and I can't always be there to watch your back and patch you back up. It's important to me that you're not- not trying to destroy yourself to prove a point about how much you-"

"Never," Damien breathes. He holds her a little tighter, then reaches to draw his hand through her hair. "No, that isn't... that isn't what I meant. I acknowledge the- the mortality rate, as you called it, but- but I hope, at least, to die nobly in my purpose. There would be no such end in reckless inattention to my safety. I swear."

Rilla frowns - nearly pouts, perhaps - and then she sighs as she bumps the tip of her nose into his cheek. "Alright. Okay. Thank you for... for listening. I know how- how much you feel, it's just- I can't do that. I can't hear you say that, especially not- not like you're saying it instead of... I just can't. Okay?"

"I understand," Damien says. "I will try to... to find more agreeable - less distressing, rather - ways in which to express my adoration."

Uncertain, whether or not he will be able to banish the thought from his mind, however. Occasionally it blinds him, when he looks at her, the breathlessness of his love, the need to protect and worship and bend himself to her merest desire-

But-

She desires, in no mere way, for him to be safe and whole, and holding her.

It still roils within him like a tempest, like waves and rocks and thunder, love like roaring and electricity.

But for her-

(Tranquility)

Sir Damien kisses her brow, kisses her neck, kisses her nose to make her wrinkle it and laugh.

Rilla loves him: miracle. Rilla loves him, like blankets and safety and hearth. Like sunshine, and laughing wind.

The soldier sings of death, as it walks ever by his side, but home- home will not abide such talk while the soldier rests inside.

He purses his lips. Unpolished, not without potential-

"I guess that's one way to think about it," Rilla murmurs, her cheeks a little dark, and Damien starts with the realization that he spoke aloud.

"Er- ah, well-"

"You really think of me as-" she pauses, bites her lip, then meets his eye again. "As... home?"

Damien exhales, overwhelmed by the strangely shy pleasure on Rilla's face, and then he tips his face up to capture her lips in another kiss.

"I do," he breathes, and then he kisses her again. "My forever-flower, my love... my home. Of course, my home."

"It- I think of you that way too," she whispers, and then she closes her eyes. "That's... why, I think. That's why it's hard for me to hear you say things like that. I know bad things happen, I know that homes- I know that things break. I just... don't like the reminder, I guess. I don't need it. I already learned that lesson too many times, y'know?"

Amaryllis of Exile looks down at him with a hesitant smile, her hand on his cheek scented vaguely of mint and smoke. Damien knows, yes. He knows what she has lost. He kisses her again, gentle and precious.

He loves her, and he knows that she loves him. So brave a love, in fact, that she will hold him and know she may lose him, and she will love him all the more fiercely in response.

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 19

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Nothing, fluff

Word Count: 1169

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

You have been in California  for three days. 

The meeting didn't go as planned, In fact it went on a whole lot longer than what it was expected to. People wanted different things in order to be able to come back fully to the show. Even though a network was already willing to pick them up, everyone's needs needed to be met before they all fully agreed to come back. 

So with the decisions for SPN season 16 at a stalemate, you had been pretty much sitting in the hotel room either alone wrapped up in a book and a blanket, or down with Felicia and Briana when they could drag you out of the room. 

In the last three days you have had your nails done, pampered, hair done, shopped, even though you really don't like shopping all that much, and drank more alcohol than you had ever drank in your life.

Still, you missed Jensen when he wasn't with you. You hadn't really got to spend a whole lot of alone time, and by the time he stumbled back into the hotel room in the evening he was exhausted from fighting with writers, actors, directors, and other people that came along with the making of the show. So you usually all just went out to eat as a collective group, then fell face first into the bed when you all finally stumbled back into the hotel room.

Yesterday was particularly hard for Jensen. He  decided that the two of you would just get room service for dinner, and try and get some sleep for him, because he was just done with the whole process right now. People had heard his side, and he was just done sitting and listening to other people talk.

This morning when he got up he decided he'd had enough. Waking you up early he decided he wanted to go home. He and Jared both had said everything they wanted to say, tomorrow was Christmas eve and Jared wanted to be home with his family, and Jensen wanted more than anything to spend it alone, just the two of you. 

This trip didn’t go exactly the way he thought it was going to, and he didn’t get to spend as much time with you as he wanted to, or even get to take you out to see the things that he wanted to while you were here in California. 

So while you were sleeping Jared and himself called and had the plane filled up with fuel, and scheduled a landing in Austin, Texas.

"Baby girl let's go! Clif said the car is ready, and we need to get to the airport!" Jensen yelled toward the bathroom as he grabbed the last bag that was lying on the bed, and threw it over his shoulder.

"I'm coming!" you yelled, running out of the bathroom to join him. He smiled watching you jump up and down on one foot, attempting to get your shoe on, and make your way closer to him all at the same time, coming to a stop in front of him. 

Jensen sat the bag back down on the bed and wrapped both his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. This  was the most contact the two of you had really had in days while awake. It was all he wanted to do, but he was too distracted, and just didn't have the time. That's why, standing here right now, he was more than okay if SPN 16 never happened. He wanted to be with you, be a real husband to you, and he didn't want what happened between him and Danneel to happen to you. He didn't want to drive the two of you apart. 

No job was worth losing you, what he thought was most important.

He'd fallen in love with you, there was no denying it anymore. He hadn't even really realized it until that moment standing right there in the hotel room with his arms wrapped around youHe had suspected it was happening, and he had suspected that the feelings he knew where there were getting stronger, but right now, he had no doubt in his mind whatsoever that he was in love with you.

Putting his face down to you, he brushed his lips lightly over yours before pulling you into a deep passionate kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, exploring your mouth slowly until both of you had to pull away for air. His eyes softly searched yours as his hand came to rest on the side of your face. 

"What was that for?" you asked a little breathless. 

Smiling at you softly he brushed his lips over yours again. "Because I love you." 

You stood there dumbfounded for a moment, unable to speak at first, your heart pounding like it was going to pound out of your chest. 

He had never told you he loved you before, and if he did say it, it wasn’t like this. He meant it this time. Almost like he was sure of it. His piercing green eyes locked on yours as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

There was no doubt in your mind you loved him too, and you always would. You were so relieved that he felt the same that you could almost cry.

"I love you too, Jensen."  

His lips made contact with yours again, pulling you closer to him than you thought possible,stealing your breath and your heart all at the same time, in a way only he could. 

A loud pounding on the door pulled the two of you out of your moment. "You guys come on! I'm ready to go home!!" Clif and Jared were yelling on the other side of the door.

"We're coming! Don't get your panties in a bunch!" Jensen yelled, at them through the closed door as he reluctantly let go of you, shouldering the bag again and grabbing your left hand in his again, running his finger over your empty ring finger for a moment, before pulling your hand up and kissing the back of it.

Jensen finally knew what was missing, as he held you close to him on the plane ride back to home. You nuzzled as close to him in his shoulder as you could, sleeping soundly. It was you. All these years he'd missed he could have had with you. He could have kicked himself in the face if it were possible.

Running his finger over your left hand again, he finally knew what he was going to get you for Christmas.As soon as the plane landed, and he got you home, he was going to get it. 

He couldn't take it back, he couldn't replace all time lost. He could try from this moment on to give you everything you deserved and then some. 

You were his missing piece, and he was yours. Two halves, finally finding out just how much they were meant to be with each other. To be a whole..

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​

[firelord-frowny]

not to sound like an Elderly Homesteader, buuuut

america’s addiction to convenience is gonna be our undoing. 

SO MANY of the most critical issues we face - socially, health-wise, environmentally, financially - stem on some level from a desire to 1) have something Right Now, or 2) complete an objective with as little work or investment as possible. and it’s an addiction that exists at ALL levels of society, from the CEOs who exploit their ~employees~, to school systems putting all the money in admin’s pockets while letting teachers go broke, to husbands who think ~getting the bills paid~ is their only responsibility and their wives should handle everything else, to parents who abuse their kids into submission instead of taking the time to actually bond with them and teach them how to be a well-adjusted human being. 

america’s addiction to convenience and refusal to sacrifice that convenience is exactly why this stupid ass country couldn’t bring itself to just hunker the fuck down for a few months so we could spare as many lives as possible as we live through this plague. People were really SO determined to Go Out To Eat and have Get Togethers and travel, no matter what the cost. People were too fucking lazy or entitled or selfish to just put some fucking cloth on their face when they do have to go out. People are so fucking married to capitalism and ~the economy~ or whateverthefuck that no one even WANTED to TRY to come up with a way to keep people fed and housed and safe in spite of not being able to work for an extended period of time. That would have been too much trouble! Too much trouble to hammer out an emergency plan that might have been able to spare over half a million lives. It’s more convenient to just let them die. 🙃

Sometimes you HAVE to be uncomfortable. you just DO. sometimes you HAVE to go without luxuries for the good of your family or your community or your whole region. sometimes you even have to go without NECESSITIES. sometimes there really isn’t a way around a problem other than to Struggle until you come out on the other end of it. 

but americans can’t do that lmaooooo we are some FUCKING WIMPS. 

So many people and so many places have had to make the choice to be uncomfortable for now so that things can be Better in the future. 

you know what it reminds me of????

it reminds me of how all these (mostly white, sorry not sorryyyy) conservative dingbat fuckwads like to whine about ~frEeEdom!!!~ when it comes to masks or vaccines or social distancing and whatnot. they like to bitch about their ~right to liberty~ and ~this is america, you can’t tell me what to do in the Land Of The Free~!!!!

as if they have ANY CONCEPT WHATSOEVER of what “freedom” even IS. as if they have any UNDERSTANDING of the depth of pain and depravation that’s left behind when a people spend centuries in bondage, subject to abuse and humiliation. FORBIDDEN from owning property, let alone their own BODIES. FORBIDDEN from choosing how they’d like to spend their life, let alone their DAY. Pushed and shoved and relegated to the absolute worst living conditions where they MUST remain without question, lest they be hurt or killed for objecting or trying to leave. Forbidden from receiving an education. Forbidden from wearing their natural hair. Forbidden from receiving medical care, and when they DO receive medical care, it’s subpar to the point of outright malpractice - except it’s not really malpractice as long as it’s done to a nigger, right??? 

the fact that anybody alive anywhere can fix their fucking mouth to say - proudly, no less - that getting a vaccine or wearing a mask has FUCK ALL to do with ~freedom~ makes me so goddamn sick to my STOMACH. 

Lmao you think your mild irritation about having to loosely cover your nose and mouth in order to prevent MASS DEATH is comparable to oppression? REAL oppression?? the kind that keeps families in inescapable poverty for GENERATIONS??? you think being required to get a vaccine (AGAIN: TO PREVENT MASS DEATH) belongs in the same category as being forced to undergo nightmarishly inhumane torture medical experiments? You think a proposition to allow anti-vax parents to send their kids to a Designated Anti-Vax School so your nasty little petri dish of a child won’t pose a health risk to all the children of Rational Adults is cut from the same cloth as jim crow segregation???  REALLY?? lmfao THIS is the pathetic cause you’re determined to crucify yourself on? THIS is the legacy you think is worthy of your martyrdom? THIS is what is so important to you that you have a fucking orgasm at the thought of taking up arms to fight against it??? THIS is the thing that’s such an enormous threat to your self-respect? THIS is what stirs up righteous rage and indignance in your ugly ass empty ass soul??? THIIIIISSSSS is what you think is going to snatch your humanity out from under you??? 

LMFAO you weak little bitch baby!!! you’re a fucking toddler who thinks dropping their pacifier is a worldwide catastrophe. gotta have everything, and gotta have it NOW, and if you don’t get it, you’ll make everyone miserable with your loud, destructive tantrum until they give you what your vile ass doesn’t deserve. 

just??? there is absolutely 0 ability to sit quietly and cope with temporary frustration. 

and now there’s a deadly plague running amok a la addictinggames Pandemic 2. now the planet is LITERALLY on fire, AND flooding, AND drying out. 

i hate it here!! 

this post took a HARD left and im done now omg

[justlookatthosesausages]

:: “Memoirs” :: post-Frozen 2 Time Travel AU

======= CHAPTER 5 =======

“What do you mean? Elsa, what do you mean?” 

The Snow Queen still was holding her mouth, hiding it, and one could tell she wanted to hide her whole self behind it. She couldn’t believe she had let the truth escape her. She wished she was able to summon Gale right then to swoop her away in a ‘nope nope nope you heard nothing!’ method. 

“Elsaaa...” Grumbled Anna, who hadn’t had any answer from her sister for several seconds now. 

Her tone, which was confused until now, had switched to a scolding one. 

The elder shook her head, clearly indicating she didn’t want to explain. "Shouldn’t have said that... Shouldn’t have said that...”

Anna frowned at her mumbling, and noticed the state Elsa was in. She shifted a bit as they were both still seated on the evening grass, and put a hand on her elder’s shoulder. “Are you okay? Wait, is that... The memory of the future that Ahtohallan showed you?” Understood Anna, her eyes widening. 

Elsa had a muffled yelp behind her hand, and nodded. Anna gasped at the news, now realizing that she truly would, one day, have a daughter. Her breathing sped up, and she was about to reply. The blonde thought she would panic. But instead, Anna went:

“How the hell did you manage to refrain yourself all that time and not tell me right away that you saw my daughter?!” 

Her voice was overflowing with astonishment. 

“I’d have spilled the beans like, two seconds after waking up.” She continued. 

Elsa smiled a bit behind her hand. Anna had so much positive energy that she lowered her hand. 

“I didn’t just see her. I also saw you, older, and there was Kristoff too, and--”

Anna let out strangled noises. “WAIT, WHAT??”

“Oh my God. Oh my God why did I say that.” Panicked Elsa, realizing once again that her sentence slipped away. She hurried to stand up, stumbling on the grass, and was about to ran as far as possible. 

The redhead closed her dropped jaw to bend her head with amusement.

“Elsa, where are you even going. We’re in the middle of a valley.”

The Snow Queen stopped in her movement for what was about to be indeed ridiculous, and slowly turned around to go back to her younger, who looked at her with a warm smile. 

“Come on. Sit back down. It clearly put you in a crazy state. It’s okay. We’ll go at your own rhythm. Explain it to me bit by bit if needed.”

Elsa looked at Anna’s teal blue eyes as she sat next to her. She couldn’t help but smile. Anna now had the opportunity to ask all the questions she wanted to know about her own future, and she still wanted to make Elsa comfortable about it first? For the second time in the day, she got emotional at her sister’s unique altruistic care. 

She calmed down, and took at long inspiration, then exhaled. “There are several reasons why I haven’t told you right away. And the first one is obvious, it’s because I can’t reveal the future, Anna!”

“What? Oh, please, you can’t just drop the bomb that you saw me and Kristoff as parents and not tell me anything about it!!”

Her little sister’s big eyes were so insisting and excited that Elsa had no way to resist it. And she spilled another detail. 

“You weren’t parents. I mean, technically, yes, but you had just given birth and- STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, I’M SAYING IT ALL NOW!!”

She buried her face in her hands, groaning in frustration. It was a good thing she now had perfect control of her magic and that it wasn’t linked to her emotions anymore, because otherwise the whole grass would be covered with ice. 

“You... Saw me... Being in labor?” Muttered Anna. 

A deep blue eye peeked at her through pale fingers. The elder nodded.

“Elsa, that’s... That’s just wonderful. Oddly unsettling and quite weird, but... That’s really wonderful.”

A silence passed. A thousand questions burned Anna’s lips, but she promised to take things on Elsa’s rhythm. She gently stroked her arms, allowing the latter to lift her face from her hands. 

“And then?”

The blonde gulped. 

“That’s the memory of the future that Ahtohallan showed me, and which proved that I changed the timeline by my presence in the woods that day... You, older, giving birth to your future daughter, with Kristoff by your side, and Gerda wrapping her in a blanket.”

Anna emotion’s overflowed her whole soul. She shivered in raw joy, and gasped with delight, squealing even. A daughter. She would have a daughter. She would have kids! She never would have believed the news if it were another person than her sister telling her. Anna knew instantly that Elsa was telling the truth. It was real. It’s what she had seen, what Ahtohallan had showed her. The Queen’s brain felt dizzy with joy. That was the future. Later, she and Kristoff would have a daughter. 

Anna smiled and rubbed her eyes so she could see Elsa sharply after having so many tears on her lashes. 

“That’s... Woaw... Amazing... And excellent news, right? What’s wrong? Why are you making that face? Why did Ahtohallan show this memory of the future as the ‘bad’ consequence of you being in the woods that day?”

Despite Elsa’s evident pride for her sister becoming a mother, she could see sadness. The blonde took her time to answer, and this time, she looked at Anna straight in the eyes. 

“You were the only people in the room. You, Kristoff, Gerda, Kai and two maids. That was all. I wasn’t there.”

The redhead went speechless. Long seconds passed. 

“Or rather... I won’t be there.” Corrected Elsa. “It means I was gone. I’ll be dead before it happens.”

Anna’s mouth went in a O, then her jaw dropped, then she searched her words, and she blinked in confusion.

“Wh- How did it possibly lead to you dying? Before I even got to be a mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it linked to me?” Worried the Queen.

“I don’t know, Anna.”

Elsa bit her lips, and added: “I only saw you giving birth to her. That’s all. No context, whatsoever. Just my absence.”

Anna clenched the hand that wasn’t on Elsa’s arm, grass blades snatched in her fist. Sometimes she purely hated how cryptic Ahtohallan was. She could never tell if they were mysterious on purpose, and it drove her nuts at some points during the past years.  

“Okay, hum... Try to get some clues. What was my daughter’s name? How did we call her? I mean, how will we call her?”

“I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, Anna!”

“Right. It would influence me. Oh, too bad, I’m dying to know what is was. I mean is. I mean, will be. Damn, I’m so excited I can’t talk properly!” She squealed.

The Queen cleared her throat to remain serious. They had to stay focused. 

“What did we say?”

Elsa didn’t have to think much. It felt like it was printed in her brain. “It started with Gerda announcing ‘It’s a girl!’. Kristoff said ‘Called it!’. Then Kai asked how he knew as he laughed, and Kristoff laughed back and said that she kicked in your belly for months with your type of energy. You laughed too and then the memory ended. I woke up.”

Anna brought her hand to her face with a gasp, and bit her lips behind her fingers to not burst in tears right then. Her expression then switched.

“Hey, see? We laughed. Why would I laugh if you’re dead?”

“Because Kristoff is funny?”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation!” Insisted Anna.

Elsa grunted.

“I’m dead before that event happens, that’s all, Anna. Don’t overthink it. It’s how the future will happen, I have come to terms with it.”

Anna wasn’t feeling happy anymore. She felt emotional about Elsa. “You’ve been thinking about it all that time... Since you woke up on the way to Arendelle... You thought you were going to die by the day I give birth?”

“I don’t think. I know it. I can feel that what I saw was the truth. Why wouldn’t I be there on the day you become a mother, Anna? Apart from being dead?” 

The redhead was about to say something, but Elsa rose a hand. 

“Don’t bother. You seemed happy and your joy is all that matters to me. You will be a great mother. The best in the world. And your daughter was - will be - so beautiful and–”

“Then it’s the proof that you simply were in another room!” Said Anna, not even paying attention to the touching fact that she found her daughter cute. “If you were dead, you’d have seen me crying my heart out for not attending the birth, that’s for sure.”

Elsa winced, looking down and toying with the grass. “Maybe you’d have mourned before then.”

“Excuse me??”

“What? We don’t know how many years separate those two events!”

Anna frowned. “Listen, first of all, stop calling it an event. Your death won’t happen, okay? Maybe that Ahtohallan is completely wrong, or just has some delirium or something, because, ha, frankly, showing the future, I mean…!” Blabbered Anna, emotion taking over.

Elsa was still looking down.

“Maybe you were in another room with Sven and Olaf”, tried Anna.

“I’ve been thinking about it countless times so far, Anna. It’s obvious that Olaf wasn’t there because I was dead.” Mumbled the blonde.

“WILL YOU STOP IT!”

“And reindeers have a lifespan of 12 to 15 years. Sven surely had died a long time ago by then.”

“Oh my God, this is getting worse and worse, please stop talking.” Blinked Anna.

Elsa lifted her head. “You said you wanted me to share everything about this memory!”

“Yes, not speculate about it!!” Exclaimed the younger.

“It’s true, you know, about the reindeers. I’ve learned a lot about them by living with the Northuldra. Sorry for Sven but he’s gonna die one da---”

Anna muffled her with her hand. Her eyes were filled with an expression Elsa had never seen. 

“Will you PLEASE stop talking nonsense?” 

The blonde gave her a sorry look. She wasn’t apologizing for what she had said, but because she firmly believed that it was the inescapable truth. 

As a blank passed, only the distant crickets could be heard, and Anna’s heavy breathing due to her emotion for the passed minutes. Elsa blinked slowly, and a tear rolled on Anna’s fingers. 

This broke the Queen’s heart. 

“Elsa. Chase those thoughts out of your mind. I swear on my own life that we’ll find the truth. I’m certain that you weren’t dead on that day. That you won’t die before that day comes. And won’t die until you’re like... 200 years old.”

The elder had a bubbling giggle in-between her tears. Anna took her hand away from Elsa’s mouth. 

“There must be a perfectly logical explanation. No way on Earth I would be as happy as you described if you were gone. Do you hear me?”

It was weakly, but Elsa nodded with a gulp. She shifted forward with her arms opened, and Anna held her close in a hug. 

She rubbed her hand in her back. “How you possibly held that secret for this long is completely beyond me.” She whispered on her shoulder. 

Elsa smiled and hugged her harder. “The certification that you will become a fulfilled mother helped me go through.”

After a while, they parted the hug, and Anna rubbed the tears on her elder’s cheeks. She got surprised by the gesture. Usually, they did it the other way around. When Anna had a long week of Queen duties and she broke down after Friday game night, when she was nervous asking Elsa for advice, or any moment she got overwhelmed, her sister was always there to gently erase her tears with a soft smile. 

Once, Anna heard about the existence of a charity for sloths in tropical rain forests, and she had cried for a whole hour about it. Kristoff didn’t know if it was funny or touching, and was glad that Elsa was around to help him deal with her. 

“Come on. Let’s go to bed. Your ice hut will do perfectly with a weather like this.”

They stood up with smiles, and entered Elsa’s creation. The temperature inside was ideal. 

As they were about to go to sleep, Anna turned to her elder. 

“Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

Elsa smiled, turning to face her too. “You’re amazing with kids. I’ve seen the way you take care of Northuldra children or go visit the Arendelle primary school on Wednesday mornings. You’ll be an excellent mother, I have no doubt.”

Even in the dimmed light now that the night had fallen, she could see her younger blush. 

“And what did I look like? In the future memory?”

The blonde smirked. “You just had given birth... So... Quite breathless...” She teased. 

Anna now blushed for a different reason. “I-I meant physically! In appearance!”

Elsa smiled. “I only saw you in ice statue, so don’t expect much details, but... You had - will have - way longer hair. And you looked more regal than ever.”

Anna had a grin. “Okay. And what did Kristoff look like? Super hot I presume.”

“That’s a bit awkward for me to tell you right before sleeping.”

“Ha-ha-ha. Come on, what did he look like? It won’t change the course of time if you tell me!”

“Well, he had a beard--”

“OH MY GOD HE HAD A BEARD?!”

=======

On the next morning, they decided by mutual agreement to go check for answers about their novel-like situation in Arendelle’s public library. They went as incognito as they could with their hooded cloaks, yet Elsa was happy to see that the librarian wasn’t the same woman as the one in their present time, because she often went in the facility to borrow books about astronomy or nature to bring to the Forest and read to the Northuldra.

However, searching in the Arendelle’s public library turned out to be totally useless. Three hours later, Elsa put her elbows on the table, biting into a groan as she passed her fingers through her hair under her hood and closed her eyes. Her revealed sleeves on her wrists, not hidden by the cloak, glittered in the sun light passing by the window, pairing well with the dust floating around.

They had read the equivalent of both their weights in books, desperately looking for anything that would mention a magic glowing rock possibly making people time travel, and hadn’t find a single clue. The librarian was eyeing them since they pretended they were scholars doing research for their homework, because Elsa had emptied almost all the shelves, Anna was loud when clapping each book and saying ‘Nope!’ when it was a failure, and the two of them now were surrounded by giant piles.

Elsa had to conjure all her royal behavior remaining in her to not craft an ice staff right then and start to jump around and yell to let off some steam. She missed Honeymaren and her expertise at making her feel better with a good fight practice after a long day. 

Anna didn’t hide a groan - it was impossible for her, anyways, thought Elsa - and bumped her forehead on the table. The blonde winced.

“I think we have to admit it. We came to Arendelle for nothing. We thought we would find answers, but there’s none. And we put ourselves in danger for nothing.”

“Don’t say that!” Exclaimed Anna, hating to hear Elsa being pessimistic. 

“SHHHH!” Warned the librarian, and both sisters turned to see the woman holding a finger on her lips with a frown. 

Anna gave her a sorry gesture. It wasn’t the first time she told her that during the morning.

“Don’t say that, Elsa.” She repeated in a whisper. “At least we searched. And I had no idea that the public library looked like that 30 years ago, so it’s good we came to visit it. Oh, and we had the unique opportunity to eat delicious grilled meat yesterday.”

Elsa lifted an eyebrow. “I admire your... Random positivity, but none of the books here talk about time travel magic at all. This is a dead end.”

The younger had a pout, that turned into a grumble. 

“Ughhhhh! This is so frustrating!” She whined.

“SHHHHH!!” Now warned half of the people in the library. 

Anna urged to hide behind her book. She repeated in a lower voice:

“This is frustrating because I know Papa had books about trolls and stuff. And since we know that Mama was Northuldra, I always wanted to lurk around the castle to see if she didn’t hide info on ancient magic as well.”

Elsa gave her an undertone look.

“But we can’t go in the castle. Not even sneak in. You know we can’t.”

“Ngnnnnnnnyes.” Whined Anna, and she bumped her head against the wood table again, this time adding a ‘ouch.’

=======

“This was our last old time money.” Declared Anna as she gave Elsa her sandwich. “I paid both with it and I had several cents left, so I gave it to the musicians over there.”

Elsa smiled at her kindness. 

“And no, I won’t steal more money. There’s no way I’m gonna steal again from my citizens, even if I’m not their Queen yet.”

The blonde looked at her with a tender expression as she unwrapped her sandwich. 

“What?” Asked Anna, seeing her face. 

“Nothing. You just make a remarkable leader.”

The redhead lifted an amused eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you used to steal from Arendellians when you were in charge!” 

“Of course not”, eye-rolled Elsa. “I just think you have very good morals. This role suits you well. Those last years, it made you an even better person than you already was.”

“Aww, thanks.” 

“Cheers?” Suggested the blonde, lifting her sandwich on Anna’s level. 

The younger snorted. 

“You dork. Okay, cheers. Gosh, to think that if we don’t make it back to our time, I’m stuck with your humor until we are like 50 years old, and that will be before we even reach the day of your coronation.”

“You can always hang out with my 21 years old self instead of me if you wish.” 

Anna shook her head. “Just eat.” 

Elsa giggled, and they enjoyed their sandwiches and the summer breeze on the docks, which had become one of their favorite spots to hang out. After eating, Anna rested her head against Elsa’s cloaked shoulder. 

She didn’t go into a nap, nevertheless.

“Elsa. You know what our last resort is. We should go to Ahtohallan, they surely have answers for us. Maybe they even can show you other memories of the future, and we’ll have the proof that you are not dead in the moment you saw.” 

The Snow Queen patted Anna’s head. “And how do we go there?”

“We can cross the mist anytime as long as we hold hands.” Reminded Anna, recalling their power as the Bridge. 

“I didn’t mean that. How do we get to the glacier?”

Anna shrugged. “Duh. You get Nokk.”

Elsa stared at her with a dropped jaw. “Have you been listening to ANYTHING that I told you about do’s and dont’s in time travel?!” 

“I did.”, insisted Anna, retrieving her balance after Elsa made her fall from her shoulder. “But Nokk is mute! They wouldn’t say anything! You just have to order them not to tell the other spirits and we’re good.”

The elder was immediately going to reject the idea, yet she stopped in her thrust, her reply stuck in her throat. 

“Ha-ha!” Smirked the Queen. “You were about to tell me no but then you realized that this is our only solution.”

Elsa bit her lip with a wince nonetheless. “I’m not sure...”

“Come on, we can only cross the Dark Sea with Nokk! You could summon them at some place where no one sees us. You have that power, right?”

“I do, but then what, uh?” Teased Elsa with a voice overflowing with sarcasm. “Hi Nokk, I’m the Fifth Spirit from the future, please take us to the glacier?”

“Well… Yeah?”

A silence fell. 

“If it’s the challenge part you’re afraid of, thinking you’ll have to gain their trust all over again, I’m sure you can make it.” Said Anna.

“It’s NOT THAT!”

“Then what?”

Elsa now was fidgeting with her hands. “If we do that, then... Then as time will go in its loop, it means that Nokk pretended to encounter me for the first time went I originally went to Ahtohallan.”

Anna’s eyes switched from side to side of Elsa’s, trying to understand what was the problem. “...And?”

“Then why did they try to drown me?”

The younger winced internally at that. Even if she appreciated Nokk, she would forever be resentful at how violent they had been with Elsa. 

“Well...” Forced to smile Anna. “I know a nerd who would call that a time paradox.” She said with a snap. “You’re the one who asked them to do so.”

The blonde clenched her own arm with her hand. “...Please don’t be around when I ask them that.”

Anna lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, I’ll make sure to be around. I want to know if that jerk reacts with a ‘Are you crazy, Fifth Spirit? Drown you? Never would I dare!’ or ‘Sure girl. My pleasure.’

The Snow Queen couldn’t help but laugh because of Anna’s tone and humor. She giggled as well, and after a while, Elsa slid her hand along her sister’s arm to get her hand. 

“Let’s go then. We’ve got a long road to do. I know a spot in the Enchanted Forest where I often summon them when we want to go on calm rides. Even Bruni never goes there.”

“Oh, that sounds promising.”

Anna gave her elder a supportive smile, and Elsa had almost forgotten how radiant those were. She felt powered up like a whole field of sunflowers would do with the star. 

=======

"How come nobody lives there?” Asked Anna once they arrived to the quiet spot indicated by Elsa. 

“As you saw, this place is right at the edge of the mist wall”, explained the blonde, as they had just come through it. “Northuldra families with young children were afraid to live there because they could play with the fog and maybe hurt themselves. It stayed that way through the years, even until our present time. Oh, and, it’s also the territory of wolves.”

Anna immediately stopped picking berries to stare at her with round eyes. 

“Couldn’t you have started with that?!”

Elsa chuckled, especially when she saw Anna’s purple lips. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they haven’t developed much yet. Also, you’re not scared of wolves, aren’t you?” She added with a smirk. 

The Queen remembered how much they had laugh when seeing the memory in ice statue form of Anna slamming a wolf in the face with Kristoff’s lute. 

“Nah.” Shrugged the redhead, finishing her berries and licking her fingers. 

Elsa smiled, and they walked to the river. It was a spot where it was large, but the current was calm. The Snow Queen kneeled on the shore under Anna’s eyes. 

With a soft gesture, she passed her hand into the water, and closed her eyes. Anna couldn’t tell if she was sending magic through the river, or calling Nokk mentally, or just checking if the water horse was nearby. 

“Hello, Nokk. It might be weird, but what you feel is true.” Murmured Elsa after a while. “I do am the Fifth Spirit. I need your help. Please come to me. I summon you and order you to come.”

The redhead awkwardly looked at the stream, feeling it was a bit of an intimate moment to witness. Slowly, the surface seemed to beam, and bubbles formed at the surface before Nokk briskly jolted out of the water. 

The sisters smiled and stepped back as the magic horse trotted on the water, looking and inspecting the pair. 

“Hi.” Waved Anna with a nervous smile. 

Elsa stood by her younger.

“This is my sister. Explanations will come later, I promise, but now you have to trust me: she’s the other half of the Bridge. We kind of both make the Fifth Spirit.” 

Nokk didn’t neigh nor snort at Elsa’s sentence, and remained quiet as they looked at her, then Anna. 

“We need your help to cross the Dark Sea.” Imposed Elsa.

Long seconds of silence passed, and then Nokk stepped back, and to the sisters’ surprise, seemed to return into the water. 

“What are they doing? Do they want to show us something? Or check if the water way is clear?” Frowned Anna. 

“I don’t know.” Admitted Elsa. It was difficult for her to establish a mental connection with the Water Spirit, and she knew that it was because they didn’t trust her yet. So she truly had no idea how they felt about the situation. 

For a moment, only the sound of the woods came to their ears. Then suddenly, the river shook in waves, and they rippled in their direction, becoming larger and wider, to the point it looked unnatural for such a watercourse. 

“Hummm...” Muttered Anna.

Elsa squinted, inspecting the inside of the waves, now several meters high. It was barely perceptible, but experience allowed her to see a shape into the water: Nokk was rushing to them at great speed, and their eyes were frowning and glowing with a typical blue that was rooted in Elsa’s brain forever.

She swung to her sister.

“ANNA, DUCK!!”

The redhead obeyed and they both dodged Nokk’s attack right in time. The wave crashed in between them as they rolled on the shore. When Anna stood up again, she turned to her sister. 

“In other circumstances, I’d have joked on the fact that it’s a horse and not a duck, but, yeah. Not gonna do that.”

“You just did.” Underlined Elsa, placing herself in a way she could better see the Water Spirit’s next blast. 

“Fair enough.” Snorted Anna. 

A second later, a new wave approached, and this time, it was nearly three times bigger than the first one. And just as faster.

Elsa hurried to protect her little sister with a giant ice shield. Water splashed on it, elevating in a pillar, and when it felt down with gravity, big drops of it went on both Elsa and Anna. They winced, and shook their head now covered with wet hair. 

“Woaw. Okay.” Coughed Anna, spitting the water she had swallowed. 

“I suppose that they have to challenge my worth anyway!” Yelled Elsa above the crashing waves. 

She replaced the shattered ice with new one, and protected Anna again for she new that other waves would attack them. She could hear Nokk’s angry neigh in front of them, behind the new ice shield. 

The Queen took off her cloak to get a better vision now that her hair was stuck to her face, and tossed it away before tucking her hair behind her ears. When she turned to Elsa to suggest to get rid of her cloak as well, she noticed that she had already done so, now sporting a ponytail - that was quite ironic - fixed with an ice touch, and she had vanished the double train of her white outfit. If the Snow Queen’s aura was impressive, the redhead could still read some worry on her face. 

Anna came closer to her. “Okay. This won’t be easy. But hey, let’s try to be positive. This is a river, this won’t be more difficult than when you had to fight them in a stormy sea, right?”

As if on cue, Nokk then suddenly raised an enormous wave above them, that looked as tall as the Arendelle walls. Both sisters looked up at the upcoming danger, eyes wide, their face dipped in the blue-tinted shadow made by the water. 

“Oh, shit.” Let out Anna. 

But to her surprise, Elsa didn’t lose any faith nor bravery. Anna felt her grab her hand while the water started to fall down toward them, and when she turned to the blonde, she had a determined gaze, her face dripping wet but strong. 

“This time, we’re together.” She stated in a yell. “Let’s see what the two sides of the Bridge can do against the Water Spirit.” 

And right after those words and just before the wave slammed the sisters down, Elsa lifted her other hand. In a flick of the wrist, she encapsulated them both in a giant ice sphere. 

[cherryblight]

There it was again, the disgusting reminder of her inescapable reality. Morgana’s shield shattered to reflect her outburst of rage. She stomped forward, dangerously close to the tip of that magical arrow as she prepared herself to correct him, only stopping to listen to him rattle on. The longer he talked, the further her cheeks filled with air as if all her rising frustration centered in her face rather than her chest; this, coupled with the arching brow gave herself the appearance of an upset child rather than an agitated, dangerous entity.

How could someone so ancient be so stupid? So self-righteous? So entitled to the nature of right and wrong, yet claim to be apart from it in the grand scheme of things? She was just vibrating with affronts to scoff at him with the same amount of arrogance he delivered his words to her now.

The instant the weapon was lowered, Morgana’s hands warped into fists, then, abruptly relaxed as she brought them scrambling back to her hips to keep from punching Varus again.

"There are children that do not know of your existence! You seek to commit genocide against generations that do not understand what their fathers before them did! Just because you have suffered hatred does not mean there is no kindness!”

The words were spat out of her mouth quickly, ignoring the fact that he was busying himself with an internal battle with the second person who shared this body with him. That blink in which she watched even the slighted of mannerisms switch from vain to meek caused her to cross her arms impatiently. One finger tapped against her elbow and her lips parted in a snarl before the human spoke his own name.

“Hello, Kai,”

Despite the affection for humankind, she certainly wasn’t speaking to him with any more care than she did the Darkin before him. In fact, her words were sharper, more assertive as she fought a war of her own with her impulsiveness.

“Yes, I am very curious if you truly believe betraying your entire kin is worth it over one event that was out of your power.”

Leaning back as she uprooted the poor man’s motivation with even lesser delicacy, she narrowed her eyes as she seemed to size him up for the second time. Even if her actions were drenched in years of uncorrected immaturity, it was a lie to say Morgana did not pity the man before. She had not used the term hostage lightly, Morgana recognized that even the hardest of hearts could be softened again with a second chance. Perhaps if Kai saw the desolation he would be bringing on people who still thought well of him: his Heartlight’s mother, his siblings, the people that loved him the moment they read his name in those precious letters, his view could be changed. The demon’s word was not law, and Morgana did not believe human fate was only one path, unlike her own.

Please, child, do not fail her.

@wingedemise​

Kai stumbles backwards, maintaining distance between himself and Morgana. God why couldn't Varus have chosen someone else to let him talk to? He really did not like how close she got to him.

"I don't believe that whatsoever."

"If I had the choice, I would have never even set foot in Pallas if I knew this would happen. I never wanted to kill anyone."

Bullshit. You remember how they scream, how beautifully their blood splatters. And you take great pleasure in it, don't you? You're even worse than me you know. At least I tell the truth.

Yet again, Kai neglects replying to Varus. All the darkin said to him he treated as rubbish, worthless babble. He still listened.

"The only one I wish death upon is him."

The human sputters, pain evident in his voice, "I don't want to deal with him, I want to kill him. I need to kill him. I don't want to kill anybody anymore. I don't. Not even Noxians."

Kai drops the darkin bow, taking a few more steps back as he clenches his fists, shaking. He didn't want to murder anyone anymore. Was that even the truth? He was unsure. All he knew is he wished every single evil thing on Varus for making him suffer. He wanted his own vengence. But Varus would always be there. Stuck with him. And that pissed him off, to no end.

Dropping the Darkin was not enough to let Kai be free.