#THE RAGE AND SORROW AND VENGEANCE AND HOPE

[maranull]

i am so normal about her rn

what a character

[icycoldninja]

Can you write the DMC boys with a half-devil fem reader who still has problem controlling her demonic half and keeping it in line?

Like her demonic side can easily be triggered by her strongest emotions ranging from sorrow, fear and anger. If her emotions reaches a certain point, the demonic will take advantage to take over, tearing itself out of its host to make its presence known to its victims.

Or it can be because of irregular hormone patterns, which can explain how she can devil trigger during that time of the month randomly

The first time she triggered, it was when she had found out about her father’s infidelity when she was a teenager and it triggered all emotions at once, specifically from disgust to sorrow to rage in a chronological order. Because of the irregular shifts of her emotions all happening at once, making it an easy passageway for the devil to take charge of her, turning it into a gore fest to enact its vengeance against her father and his mistress for wrecking her family.

(You know how teenager’s emotions are easily triggered by hormones right? So yeah, her demonic side had it easy when she was younger due to how emotional she was)

And now when she’s older, she had much more control over it, but sometimes, she finds it hard to control herself, considering she can possibly trigger due to surges of adrenaline. If she gets too excited, horny, etc then yeah…devil trigger time

And when she devil triggers…it’s going to be everyone’s problem

So yeah, God basically decided to play favorites and chose a woman whose emotions and hormones that are easily triggered to be able to shift into a homicidal devil-spawn who lives off of goring some poor bastards that may or may have not accidentally breathed way too loud to its liking and now everyone had to deal with it

———————————————————————————

P/S: Her devil trigger form looks just like Chainsaw man from the manga with the same name if u don’t mind

Of course!

Sparda boys + V x Fem!Struggling half-devil!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-You're a real basketcase who could transform into a bloodthirsty devil at any given moment, so he's careful not to do anything that would send your emotions into overdrive.

-Still, things like this are hard to prevent, and you do end up Truggering quite frequently.

-Dante has found a way to tie you down and keep you from causing too much trouble, but it's a pain in the butt and usually ends with him sporting several major injuries.

-Your demon has taken a liking to him, though, and over time, opts for a less violent, yet extremely draining activity until it calms down and you go back to normal, if you know what I mean.

-Dante does his best to keep up, but that demon is powerful, it's exhausting even him, the legendary devil hunter.

-With persistence, however, you guys manage to get your demon side a little more under control, even if change if minimal.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil saw how easy it was for you to lose control, and fearing for your own safety, he decided to train you.

-He works with you, helping you through any mental obstacles in the hopes that this will help you get a better grip on your literal tormentor.

-His ideas don't always work, but the majority of the time, they do.

-When your demon gets out, he won't try to restrain you because he knows that will just make you more agitated. Instead, he somehow gets your Triggered self to sit down with him and just talk (or growl) your issues out.

-Vergil is the only one who can keep your Devil Trigger from going on a bloodthirsty killing spree, and he's all the more terrifying for that.

□ Nero □

-Nero can sense when you're about to Trigger and tackles you right as you turn.

-This keeps your devil form from rocketing off at the speed of light, which, if allowed to happen, is very bad.

-Sometimes he has to use his own DT to keep yours pinned to the ground. This whole situation looks stupid as hell, but at least it works.

-He gives both you and your DT plenty of hugs and encouraging words to try and calm you down.

-This works, really well, and over time, your DT becomes noticably more docile around him.

-It's still insanely violent towards everyone else, so Nero needs to put you into isolation as soon as your Trigger, or there will be bloodshed.

● V ●

-V was rather frightened of you very large and obviously insanely powerful DT when he first saw it.

-Over time, however, V grews to find your DT beautiful, in its own gargoyle-ish way.

-He reminded himself whenever he gets scared that it was still you under all that and that he should try to help you instead of cowering in fear.

-So he tried, and even though there was little he could do given his physical condition, with his words. he managed to get you to stay wit him instead of running off.

-Your DT is now as calm with him as his own familiars are with him. It would be cute, if you weren't a hulking monster.

-V tries his best to keep your emotions under control, but when hormones kick in, he can only stand back and watch, hoping your DT recognizes him and chooses to stay by his side.

[camillahex]

god i am thinking soooo hard about how lucy and kipperlily were the closest to each other compared to with the rest of the rat grinders like. kipperlily's rage courting/being courted by ankarna, the sister goddess to ravina who was lucy's cleric diety. how we now know the way to truly convert to ankarna is to die and be resurrected in worship of her. lucy's goddess is ruvina, goddess of sorrow, and sorrow and grief are so often covered up by rage because it's easier to feel angry than hurt. i'm thinking ruvina may have protected lucy in some way during whatever happened in the mountains of chaos last year because she absolutely would have known her sister's presence - corrupted as it may be - and influence on lucy's party members, and either prevented lucy from dying in the first place or brought her back herself to keep lucy from her sister's grasp. but because of oblivati mori she wouldn't have been able to tell lucy who it was that resurrected her friends, brought them back a little different, a little more angry. and because lucy's closest friend and party leader is kipperlily, she agrees to the conversion request, because this new diety is the one that brought her friends back, even though ruben is now writing more songs about rage and hate, and ivy's jokes have dropped the pretense of friendly ribbing and are now just mean, and something in kipperlily has gone hard and flat and unyielding, they're still her friends, right? but then kipperlily says she needs to die too, and be resurrected by this nameless diety for the conversion to truly take.

and maybe lucy hesitantly says yes - despite (likely) intense warnings from ruvina - and lets her friends kill her, but then can't go with this new goddess; maybe in death she understands the scope of what her friends are trying to do and refuses ankarna's call, or maybe ruvina refuses to let her sister corrupt her kind-hearted, sorrowful, hopeful cleric (don't sisters just fucking always know where to hit you so it hurts the most; and after a millennia of being dead wouldn't it just burn that your own sister is getting in the way of your resurrection; their fight is what causes the destruction of the forest where lucy's body was found - a battle of giants)

or maybe lucy - steadfast in her conviction to ruvina - says no to kipperlily's plan and withdraws her conversion request, and then watches as kipperlily - blinded by rage, ankarna whispering in her head of vengeance and retribution - gives the order to kill her anyways because she'll either end up coming back on their side or being unable to spill their secrets, and besides, she's already thinking of a potential new cleric they can try again with (helioic of course, because that guy's a fucking loser and wouldn't notice the corruption of his followers if they set his stupid robes on fire)

either way, lucy's dead now, and ruvina has lost a cleric, and ankarna has her resurrection all lined up

[skiesletter]

dimitri alexandre blaiddyd - a salve for the broken

prompt ; five years after the fall of garreg mach, dimitri is in the ruins of the once-monastery. amidst the rubble, he seeks blood and the destruction of his enemies, only a shell of his former self — a shell built on blood and vengeance. you are the only one left who can save him.

word count ; 1k

the monastery is no longer what it used to be. once, the symbol of hope and peace, now, the ruins of a large building no more. dimitri, fatigued by his own suffering yet still driven by an unfounded desire for blood, sits against the wall of a monastery tower. around him are tens, if not hundreds, of dead bodies stained with fresh blood. he huffs for air, his voice a mixture of seething rage and burning pain. his spear, the only symbol left of his father, his people, is covered in so much blood he can no longer call himself a savior ( not that he has ever thought of himself as such ), and he, baggy-eyed and panting, is nothing like the angel-haired boy from five years ago.

the sound of footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts, his fist tightens around his spear, ready to take another life. his life is one that cycles, an endless repeat that he desperately searches an exit for. but that exit on comes at the end of a long, tiring road — a road of vengeance, a road full of blood, and a road of self-destruction. 

his singular eye looks on to a face so familiar he can feel his heart skid to a stop, before it begins to pound faster than ever. his scars feel like they are burning all of a sudden, like the pain that comes at the end of adrenaline, but make it hundredfold worse. it would be a lie to say he seldom feels this way — every ghost makes his heart lurk, every ghost makes him wish to take so many lives he no longer cares about humanity.

he does not wish to breathe, but his breaths come out so shaky and unstably anyhow. another ghost, another ghost who has come to haunt his past and taunt him for all the sins he has committed. 

he should be used to it by now — they come and go like this, hundreds of times everyday. he kills every single one of them, without so much hesitation he wonders if there is still any love left in his strangling heart. and yet, every time he sees another ghost, he cannot feel dread brush upon his muddied, blonde locks.

he leaps forward, thrusting his spear just beside your neck. it is a warning, not to kill, but to hear the story of another one he has failed.

“ again. again, you have come to haunt me. i have killed you too many times, and yet you always return, ” his deep voice growls — a voice you once found so beautiful and melodic, like the warming hum of a cello, but is now so guttural, so sorrowed, and so devastatingly yet beautifully broken. it is the rage of that who suffers, the rage of that who has hurt so much and continues to inflict hurt upon self.

you do not flinch at the cold metal pressed against your neck — you, perhaps opposite of him, have been steeled from war, immune from the fear that plagues his haunted mind. ( and he does not expect you to flinch, you have never once flinched as he killed you. instead, you have always smiled. and perhaps that is what makes him hurt even more, watching you so accepting of your own death, so accepting of the horrors he continues to commit. )

instead, you push away the blade and take slow, deliberate steps towards his ragged form, your gloved hands staining with the blood that engulfs the spear. he flinches at that — never once have you done anything but die at his hands. never once have you neared him. in the back of his mind he screams at himself to back away from you — he, so dirty and sinful, should not be so close to you. but he cannot move, frozen in shock and wariness. you approach him with such a soft gaze, but he can see the caution in your pursed lips, and the weariness that rests perpetually under your darkened eyes.

his singular eye widens with a jolt, extended arm drops to his side. he has cried too many tears to feel it prick against the edges of his dark-bagged eyes, and yet something within his heart feels shaken. he has already learned how to deal with ghosts, with the dead — he cannot chase them away, but he can kill them endlessly. and he has learned how to greet his foes, for blood now feels so natural against his scarred, battle-tanned skin. but never has he learned to greet his friends whom still cling on to their lives. he swallows, tasting rust at the back of his throat. again, is the ever-reminder of all that he has lost — not only the dead, but the alive.

you recognize the realization that sinks into his soul almost immediately. of course you do — you have known him since forever, and loved him for even longer. the wind overhead stops, its bellowing sound once rapping against the stone roof silences, creating a hush akin to the endless whispers of the dead. you wonder what it must be like to hear the voices of the dead, to be haunted by nightmares even in wake, and to have to kill them one by one in order to stay sane enough to walk. you can understand the pain of war and the horror of morphed faces and the lost ability to tell friend from foe. but never, will you be able to understand the extent of his suffering.

it is quiet now, so quiet you can hear his ragged breath and see the trembling of his jaw. he can see you better now, his blank eyes settling on the blood that peeks out of your ripped clothing and the bruises sprouting across your skin. he wonders what he has even fought for, if he cannot protect what he loves most.

( and he wonders, too, if you are here to save him from his suffering or throw him back into the endless loop, this time adding an even greater pain that he would willingly embrace. )

[tinietaehyun]

Forsaken [XV]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader] [Series] [Chapter Fifteen]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader [Ft. Sorcerer!Yeonjun]

Genre(s): Fantasy, romance, enemies to lovers, supernatural, action.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of slightly graphic injury, blood/blood-loss, stabbing, burns.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: Bound in chains, hope seemed bleak. You hope Taehyun would come to save you but at the same time you didn’t want him risking his life at the hand of his former friend now foe. It seemed all tension had been building up to this moment in which life and death were hanging in the balance.

You wonder how your story would turn out? How would Taehyun’s story turn out? Would you two even be alive after this to tell the tale?

Kneeling down, with trembling hands, Taehyun peers at the remaining embers of his beloved cabin. The smell of burnt wood and singed soil and foliage permeates the air.

He had never expected it to turn out this way. As he saw the tufts of smoke whilst picking the berries, he immediately knew something was up. A horrid gut feeling that you were in danger, that something was incredibly wrong. So he ran. Ran as though his life depended on it. It did, after all, you were his new life, his new hope in the right direction.

Though when he arrived at the scene it was just a little too late. The flames roared and crackled at the hollow cabin which fell and crumbled as though it were paper. His years- no, his father’s years of hardwork, now in ashes and pieces. The things he’s collected over the years from merchants and his occasional travels. Now gone. He had quelled down the fire with a hasty spell.

He peers down at his satchel, at least he still had his father’s spells in his crinkled notebook and his wand. He wouldn’t know what to do if they got destroyed. Tears drip down his face; the only photograph with his father was in there. Now incinerated into nothing.

Taehyun’s nails dig into the soil as his sorrow slowly forms into rage and his hands form fists. You. Initially he had ran into the flames seeking you, but you were nowhere. For once he was grateful that you were not in sight, he’d rather you be missing than be burnt to death in such a horrid manner.

More tears drip down his face as his body rattles in anger. He had taken you, he had taken his home and his little remaining memories. Choi Yeonjun, that sick and twisted bastard.

Now he had taken his one source of pure joy, his heart; you. God knows, what condition you were in? Taehyun is enraged at the thought of his hands dragging you away against your will, your screams, your fights. Knowing Yeonjun, he probably used magic to succumb your fierce retaliation.

“You’re going to fucking pay for this, Yeonjun,” Taehyun grits his head hung low; voice shaky.

“You’ll regret ever crossing me,” his tone laced with sheer malice. He’d make Yeonjun beg for mercy, beg to die rather than be kept alive. He’d unleash all these years of pent up anger and vengeance in one go.

Yeonjun had to be stopped once and for all. He had to keep you safe, save you. Because, you were his new world. Even if he would lose his life in the process, someone as pure-hearted and noble as you should stay and make this little slice of the world a better place.

He’d get you safe away from Yeonjun’s cruel grasp. Taehyun knew you’d not be in good hands, hell, he knew you wouldn’t be alive for much longer. Yeonjun was smart, sly and by dragging you there, Taehyun was sure to follow. Taehyun knew he'd have to face his long time ex-best friend and rival again.

Once and for all.

Taehyun stands up, wiping away his tears and brushing himself off and slinging the satchel over his right shoulder. With heavy steps he begins walking along the eroded path towards the edge of the Woods of Mors, undoubtedly for the last time ever. He would go to the Palace of Fortuna to confront Yeonjun.

———————

Shakily you peer down at your wrists now aching from the harsh metal cuffs grinding against your skin as you knelt in front of the throne your father once sat on.

Anger seethes within you; the throne that you were the rightful heir to. The throne that people would risk their life to sit on, to abuse their power and manipulate the people to their whims.

“Goodness, does it hurt? The chains?” A voice cuts through your tormented mind. You peer up seeing Yeonjun walking toward you with a pleased smile, “Oh princess, it really is unbecoming of you to be on the floor, kneeling in chains no less, but alas, what can we do? Fate is just ever so,” he crouches in front of you, “Cruel.”

You glare into his eyes with sheer hatred. His eyes glimmer as though he was amused by your little act of bravery. “Come now, glaring? How adorable, as if that’s going to scare me into removing your chains.���

“Scared I’ll escape?” You sneer. Yeonjun muses, “Well not scared, just don’t want to take any chances. I’ve come this far after all. This whole ordeal has taken a far longer time than I’d have liked it to.” You glare, “What, like manipulating Sehun like a puppet for years?”

“Precisely! You get me princess,” he chuckles making you grimace. “How tirsome it was to cater to his foolish whims and flatter him. It really does make me think I could have gone for you if I had waited a little. Then again, you are far smarter than him.”

You scoff, “You are disgusting. Gaining power through killing, treachery, betrayal. To think you’ll become king makes my stomach churn and heart burn with rage.”

He coos, “Oh how unfortunate you think that way. I think I’d be a great king, I’ll take Fortuna to new heights and make us see new horizons. Though, I suppose you wouldn’t believe me. Either way, you won’t be there to see it,” he eerily smiles. You stiffen; he was serious about ending your life.

“Why are you keeping me here? It’s almost been an entire day..” you snarl. Your knees were numb from this. Was this a punishment of sorts or did he derive some sort of sadistic pleasure from seeing you like this? All beaten down and helpless?

Yeonjun stands with a wicked smile, “Well, good question. If I got rid of you, that would leave your accomplice behind, no? Oh he’s a slippery sorcerer, always keeping away from the public eye. So, I thought, since he finds you rather special…” Your brain whirrs and you connect the dots. With wide eyes you stammer, “You want him here?”

“Oh he’s probably already on his way. Almost nearby? Who knows? But what I do know is that knowing his temper, he is going to come for me whether I like it or not.” Yeonjun grins. He places his hands behind his back as he leisurely paces around, “Enraged that I burnt his home to ashes, that I took his beloved, and well of course all our previous history too. Oh I bet he is just itching to take me down!”

You stare at Yeonjun in disgust. How arrogant! Your eyes water, Taehyun’s cabin, you couldn’t imagine how much he had lost. A small inkling of guilt forms inside you; if you were there he would have been fine. His cabin unscathed, Taehyun’s life undisturbed but no, you just had to drag him into all your mess. He had already suffered enough hasn't he? Yet here he was suffering once more.

Yeonjun gazes down at you and notices your tears dripping down and his eyes darken, “Oh what’s this? The mere mention of his name has you breaking down? Goodness you must love him ever so much, hm?” He scoffs, releasing a “tch.”

“What does he have anyway? To garner the attention of a princess. I suppose he always did aim high.” You snap outraged, “Stop it! Stop talking and leave me be with your condescending nonsense! Enough!” A sob escapes your lips.

If Taehyun came here, his life would be at risk. Though at the same time you wanted him here. No, he was capable and could handle himself. Trust him, y/n. Trust him.

“Oh and…do you still remember that little knight of yours?” Yeonjun muses. You stiffen, “Kai- Kai what did you do to him, you bastard?!” Yeonjun releases a laugh, “Oh my, calm down princess. He’s alive. Barely, alive but alive nonetheless.” You whimper pitifully, “Why? He didn’t do anything!”

“He was supposed to bring you back way earlier. He disobeyed Sehun’s orders. I thought back then, that he would indeed be a thorn in my side later on. Because I knew, he’d be your ally not mine,” Yeonjun apathetically hums. You cry out, “Don’t kill him please, I’ll convince him not to get involved. You can even relieve him of his position as a knight please!”

Yeonjun chuckles, “This is rather pathetic of you princess. It’s not about what you want, remember that. Maybe if he stayed an obedient and well trained knight, he’d still be commander and be well, by my side, healthy.” You weep pitifully as memories of Kai run through your mind; your most recent back at the palace where he let his feelings for you go.

“Sehun made the warden give him a severe whipping everyday, don’t know how he’s still alive actually, quite the resilient man, hm?” You sob harder; your beloved knight had suffered because you didn’t go back with him. So many people around you suffered. Now your people were going to suffer with a tyrant on the throne.

You grit out sniffling, “You’re nothing but a shadow of the man you want to be. You’ll always be inferior to him, even if you are king, it won’t change the fact that your father stole his father’s spell book that you copied everything that had and stole his position not through your own-“ he grabs your hair pulling it harshly back with his hand forming a fist; you yelp in pain.

“Shut that fucking mouth of yours, you spoiled brat. I was trying to be as nice as I could yet you and your brother were always so talkative at the wrong times. What a fucking nuisance.” He twists and pulls harder making more tears roll down, “Stay still, keep quiet and sit pretty, understand? I’ve had enough of your chitchat.”

You snarl, “Fuck-ah, you!-“ His eyes widen and he lets out a laugh, “Princess has learnt to cuss has she? Oh, how cute.” You writhe as he tugs at your hair painfully. Suddenly, he lets go, making you collapse against the floor with a loud rattle of chains.

Ragged breaths escape your lips as you gaze fiercely upon him. His smile, sly and cunning, as though a snake slithering towards its prey. You hated it. “Now don’t exhaust yourself, and sit tight alright? I’ll come check on you here and there, keep you company until-“

Before he can finish responding; a large sound akin to an explosion resounds in the palace. Even the ground vibrates with slight force at whatever impact caused it. What on Earth? Another large bang resounds out and noticeable commotion begins as guards rush out of the throne room and panicked maids flurry here and there.

Yeonjun’s gaze darkens and his lips form a twisted smile. He outstretches his hand out, closing his eyes as though sensing something. Yeonjun nods to himself before humming, “Ah, it seems your beloved is here to save the day. Huh, even quicker than I expected. He must really love you, either that, or he is enraged at me.”

Your heart races; he could sense Taehyun? Of course he could! Taehyun was here? Nervousness brims within you; he was in the palace! You wanted to see his face again; be in his arms again where you felt safe as if nothing or no one could hurt you.

The clatter of armor resounds as a knight heaves for breath rushing in. “Yeo-Your highness, there is a violent intruder, black cloak- high energy sorcery, we believe it’s-“

“I know who it is, you fool. Where is he? Has he made it inside the palace?” Yeonjun slices in sharply.

The knight shakes, “Sire- I-I don’t know, I ran to tell you the news, they were trying their best to fend him off, but he’s-he’s deranged. There were men flying everywhere; getting thrown like mere dolls into the walls!”

Yeonjun runs his hands through his hair, letting out a manic laugh, “Of course. He’s furious! As expected.”

“He-“ the knight begins but lets out a piercing scream of agony as he suddenly crumples to the floor and falls unconscious writhing. Your eyes widen in shock as you peer up seeing a very familiar black cloak.

The eery echo of his footsteps resound as he enters the throne room; his eyes are malevolent, an intense rage you had never seen in Taehyun’s eyes before, mixed with hurt. The dark aura radiating off of him was entirely something else.

His wand outstretched pointed where he previously knocked out the knight now aimed straight at Yeonjun. You clamber up haphazardly writhing in your chains as you call out in desperation, “Taehyun!”

This seems to have snapped him out of his ferocity and his eyes instantly soften, “Y/n!” His eyes flicker down to your cuffed wrists and his jaw clenches, “Those chains…” He hated it, someone like you in chains as though you were a despicable criminal or lowly scum.

Taehyun snarls peering at Yeonjun who peers at him with a chillingly calm smile, “You fucking bastard, to think you couldn’t sink any lower.”

“I see your abilities are in rather good condition. Took out Fortuna’s soldiers with ease, hm? Then again, I suppose a sword or spear won’t do much against sorcery,” Yeonjun muses.

Taehyun snaps walking forward, “Be serious. Do not jest when you have caused so much suffering and turmoil for those around you, even to this day. How low can you continue to stoop?”

“Oh no, I only continue to rise-“ Yeonjun begins. You spit out seething, “To be king? How despicable.” Taehyun’s lips form a sneer, “All this to be king? You?” Taehyun scoffs, “Oh you’d only bring disaster for this nation as if it isn’t in shambles anyway after Sehun’s mismanagement.”

“Well, I took care of Sehun, and I plan to take care of the results of his incompetent decision making, no need to fret, Taehyun,” Yeonjun snarks. Taehyun snaps, “To think I once called you my best friend.”

Yeonjun hums scathingly, “I could say the same. Though it is rather amusing to meet you after all these years, you’ve grown quite alike to your father. It irks me truly.”

Taehyun’s gaze darkens, “Having stole his legacy, his hardwork, siding with your pathetic excuse of a father, I think I should be irked, appalled in fact. That you’re in the place where my father should be, where I should be.”

“Still as arrogant as ever. I suppose the Kang Bloodline is the only suitable lineage for the Royal Sorcerer position, hm?” Yeonjun sneers, stepping forward agitated. Taehyun says infuriated, “Not if you genuinely worked hard and earned the position, but no, you betrayed me, you betrayed everyone, you manipulated your way to where you are now.”

Taehyun points his wand at him as he walks forward, “You are nothing without using other people for your own benefit and leeching off them. That’s what sets us apart.”

Yeonjun loses his patience as he unleashes a powerful wave of magic from his wand aimed at Taehyun. You squint seeing flashes of different colours flying back and forth. The air in the room feels charged from the amount of mana being generated. You scoot back leaning against the wall mortified at the scene. You were incredibly worried for Taehyun.

The two sorcerers unleash an array of different spells and attacks dancing around each other, ducking and dodging, creating barriers and force fields, orbs and flashes which illuminate the room. It’s an horrifically beautiful sight; in which two men once the best of friends viciously attack one another warping and sprinting, skidding and sliding.

Taehyun snarls in pain as a spell singes and sizzles against his skin, burning. He flicks his wand in an intricate pattern putting some distance between himself and Yeonjun.

Yeonjun breathes out with a deranged glint in his eyes, “Why are you backing away? I thought you were better than that?” A breathless chuckle leaves his lips as he releases an onslaught of mana orbs directed at Taehyun. He tries his best to dodge but some still scathe him.

Taehyun ducks and unleashes an intense wave of mana, glowing a bright red making Yeonjun skid back and stumble; his skin prickles and burns. The two partake in a dangerous dance waving and elegantly flicking their wands as numerous spells are cast second by second.

As Taehyun recovers, he peers back at you briefly. Your eyes glaze over with tears; your eyes widen to warn Taehyun, “Taehyun!- Watch out!”

A fist lands against Taehyun’s nose and he is knocked down. Blood drips down his lips and chin as he coughs. Yeonjun sneers down his wand pointed, “Oh you don’t understand how long I’ve been aching to do that. I must have surely broken your nose, hm?”

Taehyun grits his teeth; you shake seeing the blood as tears fall from your face. No! No! Taehyun attempts to get up but Yeonjun kicks him down; pressing his boot down on his chest, twisting painfully down onto his sternum. “Stay down, there’s no need to get up.”

Taehyun grunts in pain finding it difficult to breathe; the pressure on his chest becoming more agonising by the second. “You’ve gotten sloppy, you know, I suppose it’s only natural when you’ve been isolated for so long.” Yeonjun hums darkly, leaning down and putting more pressure on his foot, “I know every spell you do, after all. Don’t think of me as the same little kid you could beat each time, Taehyun. Times have changed.”

You release a piercing scream, “Leave him be! He’s going to die at this rate! Please!” Your body wracks with sobs. Taehyun’s face becomes pale and he heaves for breath. It hurt you incredibly to see him like this in pain, so downtrodden. What was happening? Had you both underestimated Yeonjun?

“Hush, hush, princess, it won’t be too long. I’ll make his death somewhat peaceful.” Taehyun grits out, “You fucking-ah, piece of shit- you’ll-“ he coughs once more. Yeonjun hums sadistically, “You know what, I’ll even let you join him right after. Aren’t I generous? Two lovers joint in death? Almost romantic.”

Taehyun writhes and kicks; lifting his shaking hand with his wand. Your eyes widen and you suddenly shout, “Taehyun my chains!” Before Yeonjun could even process the raspy words being uttered out of Taehyun’s lips; your chains violently rattle and then shatter off you.

Yeonjun snarls, “You-“ With all your might, you stand and charge at him, you need to give Taehyun a chance to fight. Yeonjun is forced to move his leg off Taehyun and he aims his wand at you sending a large sizzling flash of mana at you. You narrowly miss it and you run forwards, arms outstretched as you shove him back; he lets out a laugh; grabbing your wrist and twisting it back painfully, “You’re pitifully naive, princess.”

You yelp in pain, and Taehyun grunts, getting up slowly, steadying himself and gaining his breath back. Blood now drying up on his chin and philtrum. You scream and writhe in his grasp. Yeonjun begins uttering another enchantment and you feel the air around you heat up.

Taehyun hisses aiming a few large mana intense orbs at Yeonjun; he shoves you aside and attempts to dodge. One of the orbs lands on his shoulder he shudders in pain and grunts. Taehyun lunges forward sending an onslaught of attacks.

You whine brushing yourself off as you watch the two engage in combat; this time a mixture of sorcery and physical combat. Taehyun gets a few punches in here and there. The two men fight with a new fire in their eyes.

Yeonjun sneers, “You think I can’t take the two of you on? Your fighting is futile.” Your eyes widen hearing more knights (albeit slightly injured) rush in. They all charge toward Taehyun. You yell, “Taehyun!”

Taehyun peers around and is met with a sword slicing into his shoulder; he cries out in pain. You snarl at the men, “Hold your weapons! Gods above please!” The knights peer at you in hesitation; some follow through backing away whilst the majority ignore your command.

Taehyun grits out, “You’re pathetic. Can’t even face me one of one.” Yeonjun shrugs, blood dripping from his lips, “Not my fault they’re so loyal, who am I to deny such help?”

Taehyun haphazardly fights back the soldiers and charges his wand sending a large energy wave sending them flying back violently. Yeonjun holds his ground skidding back a few metres.

You pant in panic, you needed to help. Quickly, your eyes scan the room and you spot the mounted swords on the wall. You peer at the two who seem distracted in their fight and you pull and heave until one of the swords comes off with an unpleasant scrape. It was heavy; you’d only used a sword a handful of times.

At this point, you were willing to do anything even if it may seem imbecilic. At the end of the day, a sharp blade is a sharp blade. You jog over with your sword in hand and raised behind Yeonjun. With a harsh cry you swing forward; Yeonjun’s eyes widen and he narrowly ducks and rolls just missing it.

“Oh, oh, I see. How clever,” Yeonjun snaps. Taehyun muses breathlessly, “Clever indeed,” he sends a large bolt of mana from behind and Yeonjun growls in pain, his knees buckling. You hoist the sword up once more and bring it down, Yeonjun rolls out of the way. Exhaustion is beginning to take a toll on his body.

“Give up!” You bellow with hatred in your tone. Taehyun sends a harsh kick into Yeonjun’s side causing him to cough violently.

Your eyes note how his fingers wrap around his wand; you had to get him at disadvantage. It seemed Taehyun noticed the same thing. He tosses you his wand and rips the sword from your hands before he plunges the sword into Yeonjun’s hand; blood splatters across your dress and you scream, your eyes clamp shut at the gory scene; something that would be forever imprinted in your mind. A disturbing squelch of flesh and blood resounds making you feel awfully nauseous.

Yeonjun screams in agony as Taehyun pulls out the tip of sword from his hand. Yeonjun’s wand rolls out pitifully on the floor and you quickly grab ahold of it.

Taehyun’s face is splattered with blood; a menacing gaze in his eyes as he peers down at Yeonjun writhing and curled up in immeasurable pain. You had never expected him to take initiative let alone so violently like that. You tremble stepping back. Taehyun heaves, wiping the blood with his sleeve.

“You think you’re so fucking clever, always ahead.” Tears run down Yeonjun’s face; his vision blurring as overwhelming pain consumes him. Blood pools around his hand and arm.

“Your arrogance has always held you back. Your ego. Don’t you think, I hated the fact that your father always demeaned you. Why else would I insist for you to improve? Perhaps the way I encouraged you could have been better, but you? You pay back our years of friendship with betrayal? By agreeing to exiling my father and me?” Taehyun loudly bellow; his voice laden with conviction and years worth of pent up anger.

“Do you know how many nights I’ve imagined just stabbing into you? Ripping you and your father to shreds for what you did,” Taehyun pants out. “You. You were the one who painted yourself as the victim, you were the one who ignored all my attempts to talk things out! The fucking audacity to then go after the throne as if stealing my father’s position wasn’t enough!” Taehyun roars ferociously.

You couldn’t even tell if Yeonjun was processing anything; with how much pain he was in. All you could see was unadulterated hatred in Yeonjun’s fatigued gaze.

“I fucking cared for you Yeonjun. I really did. I may have been an egotistical piece of shit at times, but I wanted to see you do well, to grow beside me,” Taehyun rasps out, a tear drips down his cheek. “I hated seeing you so down. Seeing you so broken at times. Do you know how much it hurt to see you go play with Sehun and toss me aside as if I meant nothing? I knew you were jealous, I knew it.” His voice wavers as he speaks.

Yeonjun grunts; growing more agitated. He murmurs slurred, “Shut…your mouth. Don’t, fuckin’ know shit.”

Taehyun outstretches his hand towards you, “My wand.” You peer at him with wide eyes; surely he wasn’t going to do what you think he was?“Taehyun you’re not going to-“

“Give me the wand,” he insists. You shakily hand it over. No! He was going to kill him! “Think about this Taehyun! Wait!”

Yeonjun smiles lethargic, almost lucidly, “Oh. Is this what it’s come to?” He coughs. He rasps out, “Yes, yes do it. Even now,” Yeonjun’s eyes tear up as he uses all his energy and might to speak, “After so much planning and effort, fate seems to favour you-“ he coughs once more. Leaning his head back, he closes his eyes, “Do it. End my life, I know you’ve b-been craving to do so.”

Taehyun releases a chuckle; “Kill you? No, you deserve something far worse than death.” Taehyun grunts as he crouches down, “You deserve to know how those you beat down thrive in front of your eyes.”

“Wait, wait I-“ You stammer. Taehyun shakes his head, “As much as I’d like to give him a second chance at things, it’s clear he’ll only try again.” Yeonjun sighs, “How…irritating.” Yeonjun grows more pale.

“You’re a disgrace to Fortuna’s Legacy of Sorcery, my father’s legacy,” Taehyun snaps lowly, standing up. You shakily watch on, stunned into silence. He takes Yeonjun’s wand from your hands and with a swift motion he snaps it in half. A pained cry rips out Yeonjun’s lips.

A solemn expression paints Taehyun’s face as he peers down at Yeonjun. He’s clearly hurt. He doesn’t want to be doing this. No, he wishes this never would have happened in the first place. Pained memories of him and Yeonjun as children flood his mind. His heart aches seeing his ex-best friend on the floor bloodied, having to handle him so cruelly.

A good, talented soul, soiled by his father’s greedy ambitions and his own jealousy. Oh, what Taehyun wouldn’t do to reverse time to stop Yeonjun’s unfortunate fate.

Voice cracking, Taehyun murmurs, “I wish I could have helped you more, if it were to prevent all this.” Yeonjun’s expression is blank. He murmurs, “Save,” he rasps, “your disgusting pity.”

“You’ll be imprisoned.” You cut in, “For treason, attempt to assassinate the heir to the throne, any other murders you’ve committed. You’ll be tried in front of the remaining Royal Court.”

Yeonjun lies there with an empty expression. One that mirrors an individual who had nothing else to live for. A former husk of what he once was. Taehyun winces; the very same court who exiled him and his father. What a cruel and twisted turn of events.

“Taehyun will be reinstated as the Royal Sorcerer, after further investigation and clarification with the Royal Court,” you peer down, “Mark. My. Words, Yeonjun. You will not be coming out of your cell with that many crimes upon you.” Yeonjun peers at you with the scariest gaze you’ve ever seen. His lips form a grim smile, “But, of course.” You scoff, peering away, a shudder going down your spine.

A bustle of footsteps resound out and Taehyun and you look ahead seeing many courtiers, barons and chancellors accompanied by a few knights rush in. Their eyes are already mortified, presumably by the damage Taehyun left behind and now more so by the current sight in front of them.

“Princess! You’re safe!” One of the steps forward and you icily snap, “Do not show me your false concern. I’ll be rid of you one by one, it’s about time the Royal Court is due for a spring cleaning. I need to find where my true loyalties lie.” The noblemen peer at each other with unease, “No princess- we can-“

Shaking your head, you respond coldly, “Save your pathetic excuses. The vast majority of you sided with Sehun, then Yeonjun. It is clear you are all a bunch of useless lapdogs who will switch to whatever side is most convenient! I have no need for pitiful members like that at my court.” A loud silence permeates the room with your sharp words.

“Do I make myself clear?” You snap. The men bow. “One of you get a healer, and begin recalling the servants to their stations, there’s a lot to clean up. I’m sure the public will hear about it by this evening, so the scribe should get a statement ready.” One by one they filter out as Taehyun watches you distracted as give out commands with ease. This was a side he hadn’t seen from you, you had so much determination and resolve…such power.

Yeonjun lies defeated in his own pool of blood. The world around him blurs and unblurs; he can’t quite ascertain what was going on around him. All he knew is that from this point onward he was going to rot in a cobbled cell and go insane. All this meticulous planning, only for fate to cross him over! Couldn’t he just have one thing? Couldn’t he be superior? Couldn’t he win for once in his life? Why couldn’t he get retribution for his sufferings?

No. No, he couldn’t rot away inside a dingy cell to his death. This could not be how it ends. He had nothing left to live anymore for so why must he be forced to live in a cell for god knows how long? That is the utmost cruelty.

Taehyun peers back at Yeonjun who peers dazed in his own thoughts. A few palace healers rush in and you point towards Taehyun and Yeonjun. “Save Yeonjun, his hand is incredibly bleeding. Take care of Taehyun’s cuts, bruises and burns,” you order.

Yeonjun attempts to resist the healer’s treatment by yelling and grunting, “No-!“ A few more knights hold him down. The entire sight makes Taehyun feel sick. He knew Yeonjun’s entire reason to live was shattered. Most probably he wanted to die.

Yeonjun’s eyes meet fiercely with Taehyun’s as he grits out, “I fucking hate you, Kang Taehyun. I hate you…!”

You watch Taehyun's restrained expression. Your heart feels heavy at the scene. You knew he was holding back watching as Yeonjun attempted to be treated; held down like some sort of rabid animal.

It was a truly pitiful scene. You walk over grasping his hands tightly in yours and look up at him. “You’re truly so strong, Taehyun. I’m sorry things had to turn out this way. I wish things could have turned out differently.”

He weakly smiles squeezing your hands back, “Perhaps. What’s done is done. There’s nothing I can do now. He’s not remorseful in the slightest. It’s only a fitting end. He’ll only end up endangering others. His only goal got ripped away from him, he’s bound to be unstable.”

You nod with a frown. Taehyun hums, “You’ve got your throne back, princess.” You didn’t feel quite as happy as you should be. You were supposed to be overjoyed weren't you? This was your entire mission. You murmur, “I suppose. But at what cost?”

Taehyun remains silent; his eyes glancing over in Yeonjun’s direction, a newfound quietness resounds as he had finally passed out in the arms of the knights. “…at what cost,” he repeats to himself. They carry him away as though he were a rag doll.

“He’s getting what he deserves, Taehyun. The things he’s done are unforgivable. Remember that,” you murmur resolutely. He nods slowly, “I…yes. You’re right.”

“Take all the time you need, I’ll be by your side no matter what, Taehyun,” you reassure with a small smile. After all, for this long he had been beside yours. He pulls you into his arms wincing slightly at his injuries. The warmth helps you both ease down.

Closing your eyes and leaning against his chest, you hear his racing heart beside your ear.

You softly murmur, “It will be okay. We will be okay.”

Taglist: [open]

@royallyjjk @wolfytae-exe @rencarnationofangel @sirenla @matcha-binz @beomies-world @michinri @parkweylyn @kvshzj @hanniehaeeeeeee1004 @elara828 @wonioml @onima-chan @moonekth @glossykai @jjunielvrs @beargyuuzz @cathyun @hanstarrs @m3chigo @vanicogh @baekberrie @nap-of-a-starr @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @sunpov

[blissfulcrow]

Way Home is Through You

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60094282/chapters/153862384

Link to first part: https://www.tumblr.com/blissfulcrow/765505943344693248/way-home-is-through-you-chapter-1-blissfulcrow?source=share

Hey yall! An update!! Let me know if you guys are enjoying this series. I am considering a beta reader so hit me with a DM if you're interested.

Chapter 2: Give Me A Reason To Believe

A hurried shuffling could be heard through the streets. Once white sneakers were desperately fumbling over sidewalks, hoping to escape this freakishly strange night's events. The glass of a long broken streetlamp crunched under her footfalls, eliciting a curse from her shaky lips. “Fucking shit!” she choked out. “Just my fucking luck, narrowly escaped a grave-robbing mime just to bust up my last pair of decent shoes. Fuck!”

She skidded around the corner, narrowly missing drunken patrons from the bar down the road. She didn't care; she needed to go home to sleep off this bad dream. When she woke up in the morning, it would all be okay. Finally, she arrived in front of her less-than-perfect apartment building. Steading her hand, she punched in the passcode, and as soon as the door lock clicked, she was in the building like lightning. Climbing up the five-set staircase on any regular day was an unpleasant struggle, but the adrenaline making its way through her body made her barge through her apartment door before anyone could see her. She didn't want to answer any questions from concerned neighbours; manners don't matter in dreams, right?

Hurling her bag in a haphazard direction, she couldn't be bothered to see where it landed. Her focus was on the bed. As she stripped down, all she could think was:

‘You're fine, you'll be fine. Just a bad dream.’Pulling back the covers of her bed, she threw herself into it, wrapping the blankets around her head, protecting herself from the outside world. A mantra over in her head like a stuck record, ‘You're okay, just sleep. You're okay; just sleep. You're okay, just sleep.’

Scenes flashing, A couple, tenderly embracing.

Happiness. Comfort. Love.

A soft gold engagement ring emerges from a box, soft gasps and bright laughter.

Shock. Euphoria. Love.

The man entering his home witnessing his partner being pinned and assaulted. Next thing he knows, he’s plummeting out the window.

Rage. Injustice. Love.

His partner, battered and bruised, still holding onto life. Thirty hours pass before she dies.

Anguish. Pain. Love.

He claws his way out of his supposedly final resting place. 

Hatred. Grief… Vengeance.

Jolting awake, her eyes wild with confusion, she tries to breathe. So much sorrow, so many thoughts and feelings, flood through her mind. Clawing at her chest to self-soothe, she weakly attempts to ground herself. Her heart was heavily thumping through her ears, and she barely registered the taps from the window. Scrambling out of bed, she throws on an old shirt and some shirts. Making her way over, she rips open the curtain. A black crow sits on the damp window cill, surely not the one from before? She heaved the heavy pane open to shoo the bird away, but it had other ideas, quickly ducking past her flailing hands and hopping its way into the apartment. Her eyes meet the birds, and the flashes start again.

The leather trench coat.

Crow symbols alight.Knives.Needles.Cars.

“Tell them Eric Draven sends his regards.”

 A name beating in her head like a violent drum. ‘Eric Draven’ 

She mutters that name as she pushes papers away, ignoring the bird that followed close behind her as she scrambles to find her laptop on the cluttered dining table.

Her hands tremble as she opens up her jacked computer, anxiously tapping the on button. Despite that, the laptop takes its sweet time loading up. As soon as the browser opens, she begins furiously typing the name.

The first article to pop up:

‘Recently Engaged Couple Murdered on Devils Night’

Young couple Eric Draven (member of the band ‘Hangman’s Joke’) and his fiancee Shelly Webster were found on the infamous holiday ‘Devils Night’ dead at their apartment. Eric was found with multiple gunshot and stab wounds, but the coroner reports that his official cause of death was the drop from their top-floor apartment. Shelly was taken into intensive care and 30 hours later died from her injuries. 

Her stomach dropped to the floor as she read the rest of the article. All this happened 19 years ago? 

As she skimmed through her browser, she came across a picture with this ‘Eric’. It was him! The lurker from the cemetery, with less make-up, but it was him. How? The article was almost 20 years old, but he looked no older than his late 20s! This is beyond crazy; people don't come back from the dead.

‘Maybe it's just some poser who read about the article and thought it would be a cool way to prank people. That doesn’t explain the visions, though. Maybe it is just a mental break’

A banging on her door pulled her from her downward spiral. Oh no…

Slowly, she inched towards the door, trying to get a glimpse through the peephole without making any noise. Peering through, it was him, the living dead guy. She began to back away slowly; maybe he would assume she wasn't there if she didn't answer. That was the idea before an obnoxious cawing sounded behind her, throwing away any chance of her avoiding the interaction. She opened the door, trying not to show her fear outwardly. For a moment, neither said anything, letting the suspense linger in the musty hallway air. Finally as if a gift from some higher power, he held something out to her. “You dropped this.” He stated, face unreadable. 

“Oh.” It was her license, making it entirely less creepy that he knew where she lived. She took the tiny card from him, a small smile forming. “I appreciate that I didn't have to pay for a whole new one, thank you. You really didn't need to come all the way here for this, though,” she chuckled awkwardly. “It’s not the reason I came, " he said bluntly. His eyes bore into hers, but she couldn't read him. “May I come in?”

“No offence, but I don’t actually know you and I don't have a habit of letting every person who rocks up into my humble abode.”

“The documents on your table tell me otherwise; you’ve been investigating.” Referring to the open tab with a picture of Eric. “How did yo-” She turned away from him to gaze back at her laptop to find he was already there in front of it.

“What the fuck! How did you..? You were just..?” She frantically pointed between the laptop and the hallway, trying to rationalise the fact that this apparently dead guy made it from one point to another in 0.5 seconds. 

Her reactions, to an extent, amused him; it's a lot better than being shot at or stabbed. He understood her fear but was desperate for help; she seemed someone who could help him navigate this world. 

“Your scepticism is warranted but pointless. I don’t know why I am here; all I know is I am stuck in this shithole again and have no clue how to return.” His voice raised at the end, his hopelessness slipping through. He had returned without Shelly before; what cruel world would do this to him again?

“Do you think that person in the cape had anything to do with it?” “I haven't the faintest idea. The last time I came back was because of the crow.” He shared, pointing to his feathered friend. “And she assures me this wasn’t her doing.”

“You talk to the bird?”  

“In a sense, not like you and I are now. It is like we are connected on a deep level.” He stated as he made his way around the apartment, taking in the decorations. It was an admittedly small apartment, realistically only needing to house one person. The wall was unsystematically plastered with odds and ends, photos, concert stubs, and anything that made it feel like home. The furniture was a juxtaposition of different styles. Red-stained wood chairs that looked antique were slid under a white chipped particleboard table. The state of her home reflected her innermost feelings: neglected and cluttered. 

He seemed to be trying to figure something out from the decorations; eyes furrowed in concentration as he poked and prodded at a poster. 

“I like your decor. Reminds me of mine and Shelly’s place.”

Her stance softened, and she felt pity for him. From what she read, they really seemed infatuated with each other, and in this case, that love was undying. She always had a soft spot for a tragic romance and felt compelled to try at least to help him get back home.

“Alright, man, sit down and explain it. I’ll see what help I can be.” She said, walking over to the couch to straighten it up for the present company. For the first time since he returned, Eric’s gloomy face held a small, although genuine, smile.

“Thank you.”

[alicentswife1]

Rhaenyra’s and Alicent’s sides.

I hope people understand the symbolism of this. Imma explain anyway. So right side is obvious alicent. I chose the first picture (snake one) to symbolize her relationship with the men around her (Otto, Viserys) who are the snake ready to bite her and poison her should she not do what they want. So she does what they tell her to do, but she gets poisoned anyway which leads us to the next pic where I wanted to show her sadness and melancholy for lost innocence and all the grief she carries with her (her mother, rhaenyra, her youth, innocence, life, etc.). She lives in a prison now. Next one is lady of sorrows (because alicent is a strong follower of the faith) she looks very similar to her on driftmark too! The expression, the eyes, eyebrows, everything. She knows she’s lost and it’s too much for her. Her son literally lost an eye and is blinded for life and no one will do anything about it!? Rage, despair, grief, anger, guilt all bottle up and explode. I also think the similarities of show!alicent and Mary are huge. The Lady of sorrow represents the grief for her child Jesus Christ and Alicent does the same in ep 7, aemond isn’t gone but she still grieves for him. I also think which made it ten times worse, is that it was Aemond who was harmed, her favorite (you cannot convince me otherwise) Aegon was for the throne, Helaena for Aegon, but Aemond was for her.

Alicent’s was very much like “can’t you see!? Why I did this? I had to!” She was forced to. ‘I? What have I done but what was expected of me?! Where’s duty? Where’s sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again! And now you take my son’s eye and to even that you feel entitled!’ She’s right. Compared to her, Rhaenyra had to sacrifice much less, which doesn’t make her any less of a victim! Stop hating on my women and start on the men. They are right there, openly doing the most vile shit! Otto, Viserys, Daemon, Aegon. Otto who manipulated and used his own daughter, Viserys who groomed and manipulated her. Daemon who groomed Nyra, Viserys who neglected his daughter.

I choose a Joan of arc painting because Rhaenyra ‘I will never be a son’ aka ‘girls when they aren’t their father’s number one boy’. Then we have the next which shows us a man with his back turned. Nyra felt betrayed by Alicent so she turned her back. The dog symbolizes Rhaenyra’s sadness turned anger. The dog is her guard, her protector, it will lash out as not to get hurt again. She built a wall around her. And lastly I chose Lucifer because of their shared hunger for revenge, thirst for vengeance (after Luke’s death). Mary for Ali because she can only pray, but she know the path only ends in death. While alicent has only sadness left, rhaenyra is full of wrath.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to going to the final battle against the Goddess and the Hero… only to be struck down by their own SO?

As they look up, breathing already getting harder to do, they question why, and the SO, who had once looked at them with such love and devotion, hisses "Did you actually think I loved you? You? The Demon King?… You are more pathetic than I thought. No. I never loved you. You were a means to an end. Now, dear husband, perish."

This scenario is a devastating betrayal, one that would strike deeply at the heart of each Ganondorf and Demise, shaking them to their core. Here's how they might react, given their personalities and the depth of the bond they believed they had with their SO.

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Shock, Disbelief, and a Hollow Despair

Wind Waker Ganondorf, who harbored a deep longing for his people and a twisted hope for their future, would be utterly crushed by this betrayal. As he lies on the ground, his body broken and his strength fading, his wide eyes lock onto his SO's cold gaze.

"Why?" His voice, usually so commanding, is barely more than a whisper. He was always aware of the potential for betrayal, but from them? The one he trusted?

When his SO delivers their cruel words, it’s like a blade twisting in his chest. The realization that the love he thought he had was never real strips him of the last of his will to fight. He had fought so hard, for so long, but to realize it was all for nothing, that he was used, it breaks him in a way no hero ever could.

His last moments are filled with an aching emptiness as he closes his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Rage, Betrayal, and a Final Curse

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf, the man who clawed his way to power with sheer will and cunning, would be overwhelmed by an all-consuming rage at this betrayal. As he lies on the ground, his hand clutching his wound, he looks up at his SO, disbelief warring with fury in his eyes.

"You… dared…" His voice is hoarse, laced with venom, but there's a tremble to it—a crack in his steely composure.

When his SO spits their hateful words, any remaining warmth in his heart turns to ice. He had trusted them, cared for them in his own twisted way, and now, they throw it back in his face.

Even as his life drains away, his mind seethes with hatred and thoughts of vengeance. He curses them with his dying breath, swearing that if he cannot live, he will haunt them, torment them from beyond the grave. His last thoughts are of revenge, his rage fueling him until the very end.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Cold, Silent Acceptance Mixed with Profound Sadness

Twilight Princess Ganondorf, a man driven by his pride and sense of destiny, would feel the weight of this betrayal like a heavy burden on his soul. As he lies bleeding out, his golden eyes fix on his SO, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in them—sadness, perhaps?

"You… too?" His voice is quiet, the words barely audible.

When his SO hisses their cruel truth, the flicker dies, leaving only a cold, dark void. He thought he could trust them, that they were different, but in the end, they were just like the rest—weak, unworthy, and treacherous.

He closes his eyes, accepting his fate with a grim silence. There's no more fight left in him, only a deep, sorrowful resignation. His last breath is a whisper, lost to the wind, as he succumbs to the cold embrace of death.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Unrestrained Fury, Denial, and a Roar of Defiance

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf, the embodiment of raw power and unyielding ambition, would be consumed by an overwhelming sense of fury and denial. As he lies on the ground, bloodied and broken, he glares up at his SO, his eyes burning with an intense fire.

"Traitor!" His voice, though weak, is still full of anger and disbelief.

When his SO mocks him, calling him pathetic, it only fuels his rage. How dare they? He had given them power, trusted them to stand by his side, and they repay him with this?

With his last ounce of strength, he roars in defiance, refusing to accept this end. His eyes blaze with hatred, and he swears that not even death will stop him. His final moments are filled with a desperate, futile struggle against the darkness closing in, refusing to go quietly.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Bitter Amusement, Deep Hurt, and Final Acceptance

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf, who was more methodical and deliberate in his approach, would experience a profound sense of betrayal tinged with bitter amusement. As he lies on the ground, his body failing, he looks up at his SO, a pained smile on his lips.

"Is that… how it is?" His voice is soft, almost amused, but there’s a deep hurt in his eyes.

When his SO delivers their final, cruel words, the amusement fades, leaving only a deep sadness. He had allowed himself to care, to believe that he could have something more than just power. And this is how it ends.

He lets out a weary sigh, the fight leaving him as he accepts the inevitable. There’s no point in struggling anymore. His last thoughts are of what could have been, as he slips away into the darkness, his heart heavy with regret.

Demise

Reaction: Rage, Shock, and a Lasting Curse

Demise, the embodiment of pure malice and hatred, would be struck with a rare moment of shock before his anger consumes him. As he lies on the ground, his dark power waning, he glares up at his SO, his fiery eyes wide with disbelief.

"You… dare… betray me?" His voice is a low growl, filled with a mixture of rage and disbelief.

When his SO spits out their venomous words, calling him pathetic, it’s as if a final, cruel irony has been played on him. He, the eternal force of destruction, brought down not by a hero, but by someone he thought he had under his control.

His last moments are filled with a deep, burning hatred, his final breath a curse on his SO, on the hero, on the goddess, and on the entire world. He swears that his malice will never fade, that he will return, stronger and more terrible than before. His final thought is a promise of vengeance, as his body dissolves into the darkness, leaving only a lingering hatred behind.

Summary: Each Ganondorf and Demise would react with a mix of shock, betrayal, and anger to such a cruel and unexpected twist. Their reactions range from rage and defiance to deep sorrow and resignation, each reflecting their unique personalities and the depth of the bond they believed they had with their SO. This betrayal would be a shattering blow, one that would leave a lasting scar on their souls, even in their final moments.

********************************************************************

BONUS: WE CANNOT LEAVE IT LIKE THIS I CRIED OK-

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to taking up, and finding it out to be all a nightmare? Their SO is jostled awake from their sudden wake up, and they are concerned. They look as loving as ever, still deeply in love with the Demon King, their wedding band on their hand even in sleep.

Certainly! The idea of such a devastating betrayal being just a nightmare is a powerful contrast, and it would undoubtedly evoke a strong emotional reaction from each Ganondorf and Demise upon waking. Here’s how each would react to discovering it was all a bad dream, with their SO still very much in love and devoted to them:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Relief and Tenderness

Wind Waker Ganondorf wakes with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the echoes of the nightmare still clinging to his mind. For a moment, he struggles to discern reality from the terror he just experienced. But then he turns to see his SO beside him, peaceful and concerned as they rouse, their wedding band glinting in the dim light.

Relief washes over him, and he releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Gently, he pulls them into his arms, holding them close as if to reassure himself that they’re truly there.

“It was just a dream,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “You’re still here with me.”

He holds them for a long time, grateful that the nightmare wasn’t real and that he still has their love.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Disoriented but Quietly Grateful

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf wakes suddenly, his breath heavy, his mind still filled with the images of betrayal. He blinks rapidly, trying to push the nightmare away, and looks to his side, where his SO is beginning to stir, concerned by his sudden movement.

Seeing them there, so close and loving, with their wedding band as proof of their bond, he feels a wave of relief. He doesn’t say much—words aren’t his strong suit—but the tension in his body slowly eases as he realizes the truth.

He reaches out, brushing a thumb over their cheek, his usual stoic expression softened by a rare tenderness. “It was nothing,” he says quietly, though his hand lingers on theirs. “Just a dream.”

He doesn’t want to admit how much it shook him, but he’s grateful to have them beside him, more than he could ever put into words.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Deep Relief and Protective Instincts

Twilight Princess Ganondorf jolts awake, his powerful frame tense, his eyes wild as he tries to shake the lingering fear from his nightmare. His heart races as he quickly scans the room, only to find his SO beside him, rousing from their slumber with concern in their eyes.

The sight of them, so warm and loving, with their wedding band gleaming softly, fills him with an overwhelming sense of relief. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Without a word, he pulls them close, cradling them in his arms with a protective grip. “It was a nightmare,” he murmurs, his voice rough but gentle. “You’re safe, with me.”

He doesn’t let go for a long while, needing to feel their warmth, to reassure himself that they are real and that their love is still strong.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Anger at the Nightmare, Soothing Reassurance

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf wakes up with a start, his body tense and his mind racing from the intensity of the nightmare. His first instinct is to be angry, frustrated that his mind would conjure such a betrayal. But then he turns to his SO, who is now waking up beside him, their eyes filled with concern.

The sight of them, still wearing their wedding band, still looking at him with love, immediately calms the storm inside him. He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly as if to dispel the remnants of the nightmare.

“It was nothing, just a bad dream,” he says, his voice steadying. He reaches out to stroke their hair, offering them a reassuring smile. “You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

He’ll hold them close, taking comfort in their presence, the anger fading as he focuses on the love they share.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Subdued Relief and Gentle Affection

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf awakens abruptly, his heart pounding and his mind racing as he tries to shake the nightmare from his thoughts. His first instinct is to check on his SO, who is beginning to stir beside him, their eyes full of concern.

Seeing them there, looking at him with such love, with their wedding band catching the light, he feels a profound sense of relief. The fear and betrayal from the nightmare fade as he reaches out to take their hand.

“It was just a dream,” he murmurs, his voice low and calm. He squeezes their hand gently, drawing them closer. “You’re still mine.”

He presses a kiss to their temple, holding them close as the remnants of the nightmare melt away, leaving only the warmth of their love.

Demise

Reaction: Fury Turned to Protective Instincts

Demise awakens with a roar, his fiery temper flaring as he fights off the remnants of the nightmare. For a moment, he’s disoriented, his mind filled with the false betrayal. But then he looks to his side and sees his SO, waking up with concern in their eyes, their wedding band glinting in the dim light.

The sight of them, so pure and loving, calms the inferno inside him. His anger quickly fades, replaced by a fierce protective instinct. He reaches out, pulling them into his arms with a surprising gentleness.

“It was a nightmare,” he growls softly, his voice still rough but tempered by affection. “You are mine, and no one will take you from me.”

He holds them close, as if shielding them from the darkness of his mind, grateful that the nightmare was nothing more than a twisted vision.

Summary: Each Ganondorf and Demise would experience a mix of shock, relief, and deep gratitude upon realizing that the nightmare was not real. Their SO's presence and unwavering love would ground them, soothing the lingering fear and hurt. Whether through tenderness, quiet reassurance, or fierce protectiveness, they would find solace in their SO's love, cherishing the bond they share more than ever.

[dc-and-arfrona]

Redemption

Jason Todd x Gn!Reader

Based of this request and this prompt

Type: Angst

Word Count: 700+

Masterlist

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Once the golden boy of Gotham, Jason Todd had descended into the shadows, consumed by darkness and vengeance. As the infamous Arkham Knight, he had become an enigma, a twisted embodiment of pain and sorrow. It was in this state of inner turmoil that he would cross paths with a remarkable woman who unknowingly challenged the walls he had built around his heart.

You, a beacon of hope in Gotham City, dedicated your life to helping those in need. Unbeknownst to Jason, you were not a stranger but someone he had once called a childhood friend. Fate had brought you together again, rekindling a bond that had been buried deep within both your hearts.

One fateful night, while patrolling the city's gloomy streets, Jason's mind wandered into the realm of memories. A particular image surfaced—the two of you, innocent and carefree, exploring the hidden corners of Gotham as children. Laughter echoed through the dilapidated alleyways, and a mischievous smile adorned Jason's face. It was in that very moment he first fell in love with you, though he didn't understand it then.

The memory swirled within his mind like a phantom, reminding him of the genuine connection you shared. It was during those childhood adventures that Jason felt an unspoken understanding between you, a bond that transcended the ordinary. But as the weight of his tragic past pressed upon his shoulders, he had distanced himself, fearing that his darkness would taint your light.

Unbeknownst to Jason, you also treasured those memories from your shared childhood. The feelings of warmth and affection were etched deep within your heart, guiding your unwavering determination to save him from his own torment. Though he tried to push you away, you recognized the flicker of recognition in his eyes, the echo of forgotten emotions that mirrored your own.

Inevitably, the Arkham Knight's actions attracted Batman's attention. Bruce Wayne, the Dark Knight, recognized the familiar anguish behind the mask and discovered the true identity of his adversary. Jason's tortured soul had pushed him beyond the brink, seeking vengeance against those he deemed responsible for his tragic past.

Amidst the chaos, you became entangled in Jason's vendetta, the thread of your shared history weaving its way through the present. In a moment of vulnerability, a flashback seized Jason's mind—a vivid recollection of a stolen glance, a stolen heart. The world around him faded as he relived the instant he first realized his love for you, a love that had remained hidden in the recesses of his wounded soul.

As the battle against crime raged on, you witnessed the internal struggle within Jason. The guilt, pain, and longing he carried threatened to consume his very essence. Each night, as he ventured into the shadows, he found himself torn between the need for vengeance and the desire to protect the innocence that radiated from you.

"I can see that the cold has bitten past your skin and into your heart, soul even," Jason whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow. He gazed at you, his eyes haunted by the memories of the past and the weight of his failures. "I never wanted you to see me like this, to be tainted by the darkness within me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to him, aching to ease his pain. "Jason, the darkness may have consumed you for a while, but I see the flicker of light within you. You are still capable of love, of redemption."

In that moment, the walls around his heart began to crumble, and Jason allowed himself to be vulnerable. He leaned into your touch, seeking solace and finding a glimmer of hope in your unwavering presence.

Together, you faced the demons that haunted him, guiding him towards forgiveness and healing. With each step, the weight of his past became a little lighter, and the love between you grew stronger.

But there were moments when the anguish became too much to bear. In the dead of night, Jason would wake in a cold sweat, haunted by the faces of those he had lost and the pain he had caused. He would retreat to the solitude of his room, his mind a battlefield of regrets and self-doubt.

You would find him there, curled up in the darkness, his breath shallow and uneven. You would wrap your arms around him, whispering words of reassurance, reminding him that he was not alone. In those moments, he clung to you like a lifeline, seeking solace in your presence.

"I don't deserve your love," he would murmur, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've done terrible things, and the weight of my sins crushes me."

You would hold him tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Jason, we all carry our scars and our mistakes, but that doesn't define who we are. I see the goodness in your heart, the capacity for redemption. You are not alone in this journey."

As time passed, Jason's walls began to crumble further. He allowed himself to trust, to let you in completely. It was a slow and painful process, the remnants of his past still clinging to his soul, but your unwavering support provided the strength he needed to push forward.

Together, you confronted the darkness that threatened to engulf him, fighting side by side against the demons that plagued his mind. And slowly, with each act of compassion, each whispered word of love, Jason found solace in your presence.

In the shadow of redemption, Jason Todd found a fragile peace. He learned to embrace his past, not as a weight to bear, but as a catalyst for growth. You became his anchor, the embodiment of love and understanding, guiding him towards the light.

The road to redemption was not without its obstacles. There were moments of doubt, of relapse into old habits and patterns. But you remained steadfast, reminding Jason of his worth, his capacity for change.

And as the days turned into months and the months into years, Jason began to rebuild his life, finding purpose and meaning in protecting Gotham City. He used his skills and experiences to fight for justice, to become a symbol of hope rather than vengeance.

Through it all, your love remained the guiding force, the foundation upon which his new life was built. Together, you carved a path towards a brighter future, leaving behind the shadows of the past.

In the end, it was the power of love that saved Jason Todd. The love that had been forged in childhood, weathered by darkness, and rekindled in the face of adversity. And together, you defied the odds, emerging stronger, united in your shared journey of redemption.

The memories of your childhood adventures now intertwined with the hope for a brighter tomorrow, as you both rekindled a love that had never truly died.

[yelling-space]

Children of light/darkness

it wouldn't let me change the txt 2 black so enkis pink cuz i hate him

Couldnt stop thinking about that one stupid throw away line in fagcats monologuing so i decided to apply it to the rest of the gang becuse i can 4 context i'm going to assume the ratio of children of light:darkness is similar to that a 1:45 type thing. (includes a few hcs.)

  — "Living humans are divided into two groups, yes? There are children of light. Those destined to walk under the bright sun. Those people do well in all hardships of life. They have dear humans who they want to return to. Even in the darkest hour, they can feel the warmth of their loved ones in their heart and gain extra courage from that.” - Pocketcat

Obviously The Girl is a child of light since it’s stated in-game by the New Gods. A pure child, a blank slate birthed from the darkest pits of human creation. The literal embodiment of fear and hunger, a small light shrouded in darkness without even a glimmer of hope. A child who's been robbed of love;the first kind gesture she ever received was being freed from a cage by a man who smiled at her like she wasn't a horrific monster. Yet despite all her hesitation she slowly finds herself gaining comfort in his presence, enough to scrounge a little closer and find herself enjoying the sound his voice,a man that never stop talking even tho she doesn't speak back, doesn't quite understand why he shares his food with her yet gobbles it down before he can try taking it back the second she realises its safe to eat. And then he gifts her the doll. And she's not really sure what to do or what all these overwhelming feelings inside are but the raggedy thing never leaves her side as she trails him like a moth to flame.

Cahara's a child of light, he burns slow and soft. A little flicker of light in the darkness that'll last in the wind because it has the fuel to keep going and can light up other people. He’s a people person, a social butterfly who people are drawn to and ends up making connections wherever he goes. Despite everything he's been through and all the horrors and harsh realities of life he's faced, he's still able to find joy and a love for life. Quite literally one the only thing holding the group together and reason half these people even start to tolerate each other.

“Hooo~ you do? This is the most surprising! I feel like so many people lose the sight of happiness once they grow out of their naive little views of the world they had as younglings. But perhaps it is possible to feel like that, even as someone as old as you.” - Pocketcat

Ragnvaldr’s a child light. He burns bright and fast like a strip of magnesium, his light comes in bursts. Rage comes as quick as it goes and isn't a reliable source of fuel but shines so bright when it burns it almost hurts to witness.

His light’s too hot to get close to when he's burning, and therefore it doesn't get 'shared' before it's gone unlike Cahara’s who serves to light others over coaxing his own flame. Yet despite losing his family he still carries the love his people held for him in his heart, letting it fuel his fire even though he knows he'll never be able to return to them. Yet despite losing his family, Ragnvaldr still carries their memories alive in his heart and never loses sight of the happiness that was robbed from him so instead he keeps their spirits close while he seeks vengeance.

It's for that same reason The Girl and Ragnvaldr are both attracted to and seek out light despite being lights of their own. They both require others to fuel their flame and keep them afloat vs someone whose light is soft and nurturing more like Cahara’s, whose light draws others towards him. Is bright enough to warm your hands in the midst of a cold winter’s storm yet too weak to spark the light of rebellion and bring about change in the world.

 “In the opposite end of the spectrum, there are children of darkness. Those humans are often driven to depression and sorrow because of life's peculiar ways.But they have learned how to live with those feelings. In fact, they have grown to love the ever-pressing darkness within. Those humans are able to draw energy from darkness, they are not dependent on other people. They only need darkness, their old friend.So, humans of light and darkness... Which one are you?” - Pocketcat

It's how D'arce can be born with a silver spoon in her mouth and want for nothing as she gets older, pursuing what she thinks is her dream, leaving behind her luxurious life and continuing to strive higher and higher for her 'goals' – only to constantly be miserable despite it all. No matter what she gains or what she gives up, just never being satisfied, feeling like she's stagnating and making nothing herself despite all the accolades and medals and milestones she's achieved.

It's the same reason Enki can be born in darkness, wanting nothing more then the endless pursuit of knowledge – forced to eat his younger siblings, forced to claw his way out of a well, forced to eat bugs in order to survive, forced to backstab his twin sister, only ever finding twisted satisfaction in a rare moment of joy when he burns his family and the place he once called home into ash – feels so comfortable drowned in misery.

They’re both on completely different ends the moral and social spectrum, yet they both closed off their hearts to the world and poured themselves into their own goals. A way to close off their feelings and shut away from the rest of the world. They both just sorta look at Cahara and Ragnvaldr smiling, laughing and simply ,,,,enjoying existing in each other's company. And they just kinda stare in disbelief at this light in front of them, almost unable to actually believe what they're actually seeing, let alone comprehend how they're even able to exist so freely in a place like this. It doesn't make sense. They're all trapped in this horrific hellscape of a dungeon with strangers they've never met, barely surviving the passing hours with their mess of skill sets and feeble attempts to hold onto whatever draining sense of morality and justice they had before coming down here. And yet these two are smiling and cracking jokes. Talking like they'd been friends for years even though they barely know each other. they just seem so ,,, so,,, bright. no matter how much Enki and D’arce become familiar with the sight, they feel like they're intruding on something; they shouldn't be allowed to see this. 

It's something they've already come to terms within their own lives, after all. It's a feeling people like them don't need. They don't deserve it. Yet. something about the sight is just so warm and comforting they can’t quite bring themselves to tear their eyes from it. 

“Since you were a child of darkness, I imagine you agree when I say that we don't get the luxury of happiness.We only know brief joy every now and then, but even that is getting more rare every day.” - Pocketcat

Considering how both Enki and Ragnvaldr kinda blur the line a bit when it comes to their actions and motives; how Ragnvaldr can be argued to go 'darker' while enki goes 'lighter' despite their soul compositions (in my amazing  awful timeline of events at least.)

It’s how D'arce, a knight of one the most prestigious and well respected groups in the kingdom, borne of nobility, who grew up comfortably, never having to scrape by is constantly shaped in misery and loneliness, can never truly happy no matter how high she climbs in the world vs Cahara having known nothing but constant suffering and struggles, is still able to be happy and smile with people he cares for and find people that love him despite their line of work or less than fortunate situation. He's able to befriend people in every corner of the world he travels to; there's people who care for him and want to be around him. Even though he's experienced the hardship of life first hand he's still able to look at the world with just so much love for life and she just doesn't get how. D’arce just mystified by watching the fact that two men she knows, born into poverty or into nothing at all, scraping by, living minimal, nomadic, no stable environment or home - for Cahara, nobody to call his own until adulthood - just completely shocked by the fact that they can both smile, joke and seem to be just. happy. content with what they've managed to make for themselves.

And it's not as if D'arce hasnt made anything of herself; she’s clearly put in a lot of effort to get to where she is even if she came from an advantageous background, she had family, she had friends (singular, Le'garde, so maybe ok not even 1 friend but shhh),,, has no idea what she did wrong or what she's doing wrong to continue being so miserable in life.

They all have blood on their hands but she’s yet to realise the cause of it is what makes them different from each other.

Doesn't get how Cahara can sit there and joke about the other ways he made cash to get by when he was younger with a smile on his face. Or how Ragnvalder can sit there and laugh at Cahara horrible jokes after losing everything he’s ever held dear. The way they can chatter on about nothing for hours at a time or talk about their partners with just so much love in their voices knowing they'll probably never see them again. (Maybe even wondering if someone will ever talk about her like that with just so much shear adoration in their voice and this ‘swept off their feet’ look in their eyes, but also i can see that not even crossing her mind at the same time )

Enki and D’arce just sat there a lil bewildered watching the first people they've ever seen be genuinely happy in their lives even though they have almost nothing to their name, have lost everything and yet they can still smile and laugh with each other in a place like this???

They are just so confused by rag&cahara’s chemistry because they themselves don't know how to utilise humour and light-heartedness as ways to cope with the tragedy in their lives, having chosen to instead turn their focuses outward. For example, enlightenment and study & knighthood and an entire other persona, as a way to distract themselves from the struggles in their lives and unintentionally bring the focus away from their internal darkness.

It's also interesting to observe the parallels of duos such as Enki&Cahara and D'arce&Rag to, since Cahara serves to kind of draw people out of their shells and show them light, while Ragnvaldr's light could be seen as something turned into heat and ignite the spark of retribution and spur on the need to go on. While it doesn't make D'arce and Ragnvaldr very close, I can see how it would maybe inspire something in her and propel her forward in times of discouragement. (Whether that's out of admiration for rags ability to be able to still go on after everything thats happend or if it’s from the desire to find Le’gard before Rag fucking gets him☠️is up to you.)

Cahara’s used to sneaking around even though he's very bright, and so resorts to coaxing and persuasion, whereas Ragnvaldr is very obviously used to being a leader figure and just kind of 'shines' on people. I'm not sure how well those methods obviously work on people like Enki and D'arce (lowkey think they might be more beneficial if they swapped, but that's just makes the fact i tend to default to enki&cahara + d’arce&rag funnier), but the fact that they're watching it happen at all is so rare for them let alone the horrifying moment that occurs for the two of them when they realise they actually enjoying having these idiots around (each other included).

(This awful epiphany mainly applies to Enki. He’d rather be sacrificed again then admit he cares for any of these idiots, nevermind Cahara specifically. I don't think it really hits D’arce until they’re out of the dungeon if they make it and she doesn't have their company anymore.)

After all, the world was cruel to them so they became cruel back. That  probably affects the way they’d view/interact with Cahara/Rag. Enki especially would have a hard time trying to grasp how they are both able to be so,,,happy,, after going through so much, considering the fact he also went through hell and thus chose to close his heart to the world. Yet here he is, watching these two men who have come from nothing and lost everything who have been nothing but repeatedly wronged by life, talk about how beautiful it is and he just. Doesn't. Get. It. He went through abandonment, being pit against his own sibling to see who deserved to still breath in their parents eyes. He had to resort to more than questionable things in order to survive, he stabbed his own sister in the back and burnt his parents alive after crawling out the pit they tried to bury him in. Hell, he had to eat his own siblings/bugs for crying out loud. and the way he went about it makes sense to him. He's protecting himself. He's putting his interests into unemotional things that can't lash out and hurt him again - things that he can safely invest time and effort into, knowing it will fulfil him in some way, without the pressure of it having to impress someone or be worthy enough to try to seek praise from those around him. It's totally protective, wanting to keep himself from that same hurt, wanting to become powerful and knowledgeable enough to keep himself from being hurt ever again. Right?

It's almost a childish but at the same time totally jaded, adult-ified view of what he probably wanted as a child. Bitter and spiteful since all the while, and hell even his necro tendencies probably have something to do with wanting to be in control of and listened to by something for once in his life.

He most likely also shares a lot of The Girl's wonder in the fact that, despite all the awful shit that's happened and the terrible place they're in now, Cahara and Ragnvaldr are taking a good damn while to break under the darkness that's trying to eat them alive. And even if it's terrible how it manifests, could even argue that Ragnvaldr hallucinating his wife is him retreating back to a better time full of light to cope, similar to Cahara constantly going "oh, this is how i used to gain money, its nothing new lol” when Enki tries to beat around the bush and ask if Cahara’s even okay with,,,, this and just ends up being an answer he's not really sure how he feels about.

Enki: how do you do that Cahara: do what ? Enki: just,,, exist, and seem happy about it Cahara: well, existing is quite a beautiful thing, wouldn't you agree ? Enki: Cahara internally: [he doesn't know that finding worth in life is pointless] vs 

D'arce: how do you do that Ragnvaldr: do what? D'arce: keep going onward despite the weight of everything youve lost Ragnvaldr: i've been freed of the binds that kept me from avenging them, that's how D'arce: Ragnvaldr internally: [she doesn't know that weight will stay forever]

ldk why but I really like the idea of them all having similar views but completely opposite interpretations of something. They're all looking at the exact same sunset but seeing something entirely different, both affected by their light and darkness alignments but also just their individual life experiences that shaped their world views.

I can't find it rn but also there's some dialogue from Nosramus about seeing him in the dark; if you’re playing as Cahara/Ragnvaldr, it's a simple “oh your the person from ealier”. but if you’re playing as D’arce/Enki; the response is “the one creeping around in the shadow ealier” witch makes me giggle cuz ofc those 2 be finding comfort in the shadows and scrurrying around like rats in it

“Hooo~! Very good, very good. I love honest words, even when they hurt me. I say that now... But I'm probably going to feel really awful later on. But don't you worry about that. Really. I have grown to love this feeling of being rejected.”

-Pocketcat

Bonus Daan mention :

Daan’s a child darkness both in how it paroles the girl as children destined for greatness by the gods + both more attracted to “Light”(eg elise & cahara both children light & attract others 2 them) like moths 2 a flame then actually attract people to him

Being a child of darknesses also link him 2 fagcat + part the reason pocketcats so interested in the fact “someone like him” was chosen by the gods(much 2 daans dismay)

hes is literally drowning in misery. Thinks of his life as a curse he's forced 2 live threw with the thought things could be different/better ever crossing his mind 

Much like d’arce &enki never rly know the feeling of being loved & wanted baring teh short time he was with his wife (rip elies)

He has never known a peaceful happy day, mans just straight up NOT ALLOWED nice things & those he has get ripped away from him in the cruellest ways possible & having said lost thing repeatedly rubbed in his face (eg dead wife ,her coming back as stitches + fagcat never letting him know peace )

[jadegretz]

I really appreciate your likes and comments. Thank you so much for your support :)**

Miharu Hirano: Shadows of the Iron Fist by Jade Gretz

The frigid wind whipped across the desolate plains of the Mongolian steppe, carrying with it the mournful howl of unseen wolves. Miharu Hirano, clad in her tattered school uniform, stood amidst the skeletal remains of what was once a bustling nomad encampment. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a sickening cocktail of burnt flesh and despair.

Grief, a cold serpent, coiled around her heart. Her team, the Tekken Force unit she considered family, lay dead, their bodies contorted in a grotesque tableau of pain. The only clue to their demise – a single, scorched calling card embossed with the insignia of a grotesque, fanged skull. The calling card of the Oni Union.

Rage, a white-hot ember, ignited within Miharu. These weren't mere soldiers she mourned; they were friends, confidants. Especially Aoi, her best friend, her sparring partner, the girl who always had a bad joke on her lips. Aoi, whose vibrant emerald eyes now stared sightlessly from a face twisted in silent agony.

Vengeance, a single-minded purpose, burned away the vestiges of fear and sorrow. The Tekken Force had trained her for this – to face the darkness that lurked in the fringes of society, to combat the monsters that humanity couldn't. Today, she wouldn't be a soldier; she would be a storm, a whirlwind of fury seeking retribution.

Tracking the Oni Union was a brutal task. They were phantoms, flitting across the dark underbelly of the world, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. Days bled into nights, the unforgiving landscape mirroring the desolation within Miharu. Her once-bright eyes held a steely glint, fueled by a thirst for vengeance that bordered on obsession.

One night, under the pale glow of a sliver moon, a whisper of the Oni Union reached her. A flickering rumor of a gathering deep within the fabled Skull Mountains, a treacherous range notorious for its unforgiving terrain and legends of malevolent spirits.

Hope, a fragile ember, flickered within Miharu. This could be he …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[callahanisms]

Your posts are the greatest thing ever I was wondering if you could alicent and rhaenyra reacting to reader killing one of their children in combat during the dance thanks. 🥰

my god anon. that is PURE ANGST! you are despicable for giving me this suggestion /pos

anyways thank you so much for the compliment! it means a lot and i'm so happy you enjoy the content i create. there's not much that can be asked from as a creative. i love it when you guys enjoy the stuff i put out.

i do love writing angst. so umm...welp. i'll just leave this post here for you guys. i hope your heart hurt as much as mine did while writing this.

rhaenyra targaryen

it was just whispers, rumors. but the reality of war was that there would be loss. she just didn’t expect for her to have to grieve more than she already has.

daemon had a solemn look on his face when he approached her that evening. and he told her the news.

he never saw her react so quickly and violently.

the black queen threw her cups of wine into the fire with unrestrained force. her breathing was rapid and she stood from her seat, walking out.

“rhaenyra. rhaenyra!” daemon exclaimed.

you had killed her oldest, jacaerys. stabbed through the heart and then having taken an eye out. for aemond. is what you apparently had said, according to the soldiers that fled.

rhaenyra saw white. pure white.

it wasn’t just intense sorrow, a sorrow that tore through her body like she was being burned from the inside out. it was anger. anger at you. anger at the world. anger at alicent and aegon.

she had gone to the training yard and picked up a sword and began hacking away at the practice dummies. she just kept going, screaming while hot tears ran down her cheeks.

she didn’t even realize that daemon had come to check up on her and he only watched as she tore apart the dummies and anything that could have been broken by a sword.

when her anger finally faded away and she could see the destruction she caused, she tossed the sword on the ground, panting.

she looks at daemon who communicates with her how he feels through the look in his eyes.

“i’m going to kill them! i’m going to kill alicent! i’m going to kill aegon! i’m going to kill that stupid boy aemond!” she exclaims.

“we will kill them all. and we will put their heads on the traitor’s walk when we retake the iron throne.”

“i will kill (y/n). i will kill them personally.”

“is that what you really want, rhaenyra?”

“i will kill (y/n) if it is the last thing i do. i will avenge my children!”

alicent hightower

when aemond attempted to take back harrenhaal, you were there. and you led the counterattack. adrenaline had run through your veins and with unrecognizable strength, you sunk your blade through his eye socket.

part of it was your rage. you cared for lucerys like he was your own. he reminded you of your younger brother, who had died from dornish raiders. and when the news reached you that luke had been killed by aemond’s hands, you swore vengeance.

finally, luke could be at peace.

alicent was horrified when she opened the box. rumors have it that she screamed, collapsed, and tore at her dress from the sorrow that ran through her veins.

with aemond dead and green morale low, the blacks took back king’s landing.

she was forced into the great hall for sentencing. but when she saw you, she saw red.

“you!”

“me.” you say.

“you killed aemond. how could you have killed him!” alicent exclaims. she could not even look at rhaenyra. her sole attention was on you. “you killed my son!”

“your son killed prince lucerys without consequence. is that a fair trade for your son’s eye? you probably thought so. a life for an eye.” you shrug, unbothered.

alicent didn’t even know she had such strength within her. but she tore herself from the arms of the soldiers holding her up and pulled one of their swords from its sheath.

you send them a look, deciding to let the grieving woman charge towards you with a blade. she was intent on cutting your head off.

her swings were sloppy. to be expected from a woman who had others do the dirty work for her. you deflect them easily and dodge.

eventually, you knock the sword out of her hands and drop your blade. she attempts to hit you, but you stop her hand, gripping onto it.

“i trusted you! i trusted you (y/n)!” she exclaims. “you killed aemond. my aemond!” her voice became incomprehensible as she sobbed. her cries were painful and they rang throughout the great hall.

you could only hold her there and tell her one thing.

“a son for a son.”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

His Reign, Our Joy: The Absolute Supremacy of the Lord

How does the reigning power of the Lord affect our everyday lives? How can comprehending His reign influence our reactions to trials and tribulations? Can we find comfort in the knowledge that God controls everything?

The LORD reigns, let the earth rejoice; let the distant shores be glad. — Psalm 97:1

It is reassuring to know that there is no cause for unease when we recognize this blessed truth: the Lord reigns. His power on earth controls not only the rage of the wicked but also the fury of the sea. His love is as refreshing as the showers that quench the dry earth, a mercy that revives the poor in spirit.

We must always remember: God is God. He perceives and hears all our sorrows and difficulties. Amid our sufferings, let us not forget that the Lord forever reigns. His authority and influence are unquestionable, even in the most challenging circumstances.

The sovereignty of the Lord is even acknowledged in the realm of evil spirits. When they are allowed to roam, it is only with limitations; they are always under His control. The instruments of death are under the Lord's lock, and the gates of the grave are guarded by divine power. The Lord's tremendous vengeance causes demons to tremble in fear.

In the heavenly realms, no one doubts the sovereignty of the King Eternal. All fall on their faces to pay Him homage. Angels serve as His courtiers, the redeemed are His favored ones, and all delight to serve Him day and night.

May we too strive to reach the city of the great King! May we remember in our long nights of sadness that the Lord will bring us peace and joy. Regardless of our trials, let us remember that God forever reigns!

May we always remember Your reign, In times of joy and in days of sorrow, May we trust in Your power and might, And in Your love find perfect peace.

Questions for Reflection

How does acknowledging the reigning power of the Lord affect your daily decision-making?

In what ways can you see the Lord's reigning power in modern world events?

How can you apply the concept of God's reign in handling interpersonal conflicts?

How do you reconcile the existence of evil with the Lord's reign as depicted in Psalm 97:1?

How can recognizing the Lord's reign influence your reaction to personal or societal injustices?

How does the idea that "the Lord reigns" help you cope with personal loss, such as the death of a loved one?

How does the Lord's reign assure you in times of global turmoil such as pandemics or wars?

What does the phrase "let the distant shores be glad" teach us about the universal scope of God's reign?

How does the acknowledgment of God's reign in heaven influence your understanding of the afterlife?

What actions can you take in your daily life that reflect your belief in the Lord's reign?

How does the truth of God's reigning power shape your personal hopes and dreams?

In what ways can the affirmation that "God forever reigns" guide your response to personal fears and uncertainties?

Supporting Scriptures

Psalm 47:8: God reigns over the nations; God is seated on His holy throne.

Psalm 96:10: Declare among the nations: “The LORD reigns!” The world is firmly established; it cannot be moved; He will judge the peoples with equity.

Psalm 98:4: Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth; break forth—let your cry ring out, and sing praises!

Isaiah 52:7: How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!”

Jeremiah 31:7: For this is what the LORD says: “Sing with joy for Jacob; shout for the foremost of the nations! Make your praises heard, and say, ‘O LORD, save Your people, the remnant of Israel!’

Revelation 19:6: And I heard a sound like the roar of a great multitude, like the rushing of many waters, and like a mighty rumbling of thunder, crying out: “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.

Revelation 20:4: Then I saw the thrones, and those seated on them had been given authority to judge. And I saw the souls of those who had been beheaded for their testimony of Jesus and for the word of God, and those who had not worshiped the beast or its image, and had not received its mark on their foreheads or hands. And they came to life and reigned with Christ for a thousand years.

[tanoraqui]

My Take on the Oath of Fëanor, half based on analysis of the text and half on what I personally find most interesting from a storytelling perspective

[AO3]

SUMMARY:

It really did have a real, “supernatural” effect on the oath-takers’ future actions, not like the Oath itself is sentient but rather like they locked themselves into the Great Music itself as being a certain way, that way being “fire-hearted gem-chasers/vengeance-seekers” and now can’t stop.

It’s not literal, but it can be and is no doubt often rules-lawyered; what is being rules-lawyered is not the literal wording but rather what Fëanor and to a lesser degree each son meant at the time. 

The primary goal is to retrieve the Silmarils, with maybe a secondary goal of killing Morgoth and maybe anyone else trying to keep the Silmarils from them.

It will last until the end of time. Retrieving the Silmarils (after fucking up anyone in their way) will satisfy it, but not actually make it go away. If the gems were stolen again, it’d reawaken.

Even Fëanor doesn’t have the power to cast himself out into the Void, and the Valar aren’t going to do it for him. Eru would be well within his rights to do it while remaking Arda one day, but Eru would also be well within his rights to ignore the whole thing, at that point. Seeing as he’s re-composing anyway. But Fëanor and his sons have permanently Marred themselves, made themselves dangerous to everyone else’s peace, in such a way that Mandos is never going to let them out of his Halls even if their spirits are whole and healed in every other way.

EXTENDED EXPLANATION:

1. It really did have a real, “supernatural” effect on the oath-takers’ future actions, not like the Oath itself is sentient but rather like they locked themselves into the Great Music itself as being a certain way, that way being “fire-hearted gem-chasers/vengeance-seekers” and now can’t stop.

Fëanor put great power into his words, and invoked the power of Eru to back him up, and the result was that he changed the very nature of himself, of who and what Fëanáro Curufinwë is and forever will be, in the Music of Arda. On their own strength, and riding his wave, and also invoking Eru, his sons all did the same. 

Or rather, they didn’t “change” themselves so much as froze themselves (if such language can be applied to such blazing spirits). All the burning rage and blinding pride, all the fear, guilt, and terrible grief being fed to the fire of pride and rage in order to forge determination, courage, something like hope and something salvageable out of all this horror— The selves Fëanor & Sons were that terrible night-before-night is now who they are forever. 

And who they were was strong. They were a light in the darkness! They were the possibility of joy salvaged from sorrow, even if “joy” could only be defined as “bloody vengeance”! They changed the course of history with these few words!

They can calm down. They can lay slow siege, when interminably slow siege is the only option. They can resist the urge to chase the Silmaril for decades. But those emotions, that fire-steel strength, simmers in their veins, and the only way to access it is to lean into that fervor, into being who they were in that moment. Who they Sung themselves to ever be. The Oath-fire never fades, when all their other reserves grow weaker, and they need more and more strength just to get through the day, as Beleriand fell battle by battle...and it has gravity. They don’t even need to actively lean. When they don’t resist it, or promise their worse selves that they are pursuing the Oath (we cannot attack Angband outright...we’ll use the children as hostages...) it grows in their hearts and minds whether they mean it to or not. 

The more each Oath-taker naturally grows past who they were that night-before-night, the more the Oath feels like an other thing, even an outside force. But even referring to it as “the Oath”, while convenient, makes it sound more like some single other force than it is. It’s just Fëanor, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amras and Amrod each in one of the worst (but grandest) moments of their lives, and the fact that they set their mentalities in that moment as their personal baselines/first instincts for the rest of time.

2. It’s not literal, but it can be and is no doubt often rules-lawyered; what is being rules-lawyered is not the literal wording but rather what Fëanor and to a lesser degree each son meant at the time.

3. The primary goal is to retrieve the Silmarils, with maybe a secondary goal of killing Morgoth and maybe anyone else trying to keep the Silmarils from them.

Of course it’s not literal. The literal text of the Oath [reference] makes no mention of even retrieving the Silmarils, just murdering literally anyone who so much as holds one, even if they immediately throw it away, and Eru help anyone who tries to stop us. It doesn’t even clearly exempt “Fëanor and Fëanor’s kin” from this promised murder, just says that they’re the ones who will do the death-dealing. Or, hell, if it IS literal, the translation we have into English is not, because it says “ere Day’s ending” and “days”! did not! exist yet!

Also, some offense, but anyone who genuinely thinks dwarves, hobbits, etc. races are “allowed” to hold a Silmaril because they’re not specifically named, rather than just enjoying the idea as a crack au, is an idiot. Fëanor first said “Be he friend or foe, be he foul or clean”—the specification of Maiar, Eldar, Aftercomer, etc. is just for dramatic effect. We’re not saying a woman can hold a Silmaril because her pronouns aren’t he/him, are we? It’s not literal like that, and even if it was, your interpretation would be wrong. Pay attention to the tone!! 

The text clearly suggests that the non-literal primary aim of the Oath is to regain the Silmarils: "[Maedhros and Maglor] prepared...to attempt in despair the fulfillment of their oath; for they would have given battle for the Silmarils, were they withheld…” and Eonwë responds in kind, speaking as though the only question is will he give them the Silmarils. If the Silmarils weren’t withheld, Fëanor’s last sons would’ve walked away satisfied, gems in hand. Killing anyone between them and the gems is undeniably a key element of the Oath, the explicitly defined method of its completion, but it’s not actually required for its “fulfillment.” Negotiation was an option. Killing anyone who had held a Silmaril after getting them back is also not at all mentioned.

Of course, a secondary objective on Fëanor’s mind almost certainly WAS to murder the shit out of Morgoth no matter what, for Finwë. And murder maybe anyone else who deliberately stole and/or withheld the Silmarils from him, maybe even retributively after (hypothetically) stealing them back...

But here we reach the debate I’m certain Fëanor’s sons spent ~600 years at: What did Father mean when he swore the Oath, and the related but different question, What would Father want us to do right now? Because, while I said above that each Oath-taker is essentially haunted/semi-possessed by the fiery shadow of who they personally were that night, Maedhros, Maglor, etc. did not swear the individual Oaths of Maedhros, Maglor, etc. They all swore the Oath of Fëanor. Or I could say: part of who they were that night, what drove them so furiously, was siding with their father and doing his will, in defiance of cousins and gods alike. That is what the fire in their veins requires.

The nuances and maybe even the primary goal of the Oath may then differ dramatically by son! I think “What did Father mean when he swore the Oath?” is likely pretty well-agreed-upon between them, because Fëanor was projecting his fey temper and savage intent like a fire projects heat. But it’s still a question based on their personal understandings/interpretations of Fëanor at that time. And “What would Father want us to do right now?” is that PLUS things like,

“What might Father have said once he had a chance to calm down/experience additional, more slow-motion trauma/hit what is surely rock bottom (oh hey, shovels!) like we have?” 

“Would Father ever have calmed down? Shouldn’t we act as though in the first glorious burn of the Oath at all times, like he surely would with his eternal fire?” 

“What could I, personally, persuade Father into, for practical, personal or moral reasons?/What line might I refuse to cross, even to his face, even to the point of my own death?”

It’s notable that despite likely differing opinions on all of the above, Fëanor’s sons only ever acted as a group. That’s consistent with the way the Oath, the burning echoes of their past selves, can be reasoned with in things like, “we can’t just charge at Angband.” All Fëanor’s sons are following the best path to victory that they can a) see and b) morally/emotionally endure, and that means working together even if they likely disagree in their hearts on nuances of what the Oath requires. 

Though it is what they believe in their hearts that matters ultimately, because the Oath is a thing of emotion, not logic. So, would those nuances have cause bloodshed between them if they ever arose in a way that couldn’t be ignored, and bloodshed was truly the only option left to settle them? Maybe. Depends on the Oath-taker, depends on the nuance... No Oath-taker would ever be, like, puppetted against their conscious will to do something. It’d be more like...at the extremes of resisting the Oath, the obsession it brings, they might become like Smeagol and Gollum. Who were, ultimately, the same person. Ultimately, either they hew to the aims of the Oath or they’re tormented ceaselessly by the desire to do so, or they kill themselves—and because of who they are, who they already were before they swore the Oath and who they still are with it, they will all take option 1 or, at best, 3.

Example of a hypothetical struggle against the Oath: I headcanon that Maglor saw Elrond and Elros as his sons, and thus permissible Silmaril-holders—ie, he did NOT want to kill them, and in an ideal world Grandpa Fëanor would also find the idea abhorrent. But I don’t think Maglor thought he could’ve convinced his father of that, born of Fingolfin’s line as they were. I think if Elrond and Elros held and refused to surrender Silmarils, Maglor would’ve done his fucking best to knock them unconscious rather than kill them, then stood and argued with his father in his mind that this was enough, he had the gems and he could leave the children... 

And if he couldn’t pull that off, he would’ve made their deaths as swift and painless as possible, then likely flung himself into the sea with the gems in guilt. Maybe at a different time in a different place, with the world and his last vestiges of mental health not both crumbling, and less inertia to the Song of killing Beren & Luthien’s heirs generation after generation, and less desperate need for this to all just be OVER, he could resist the burning despair...either walk away to live forevermore in yearning torment, or decide “you know what, yes I COULD persuade Father of this”, or at least let them kill him instead... But not at the end of the First Age. 

(The whole course of the First Age, and Morgoth’s ambient malevolent influence pushing everyone to be their worst selves, definitely exacerbated the effects of the Oath. I don’t think he specifically targeted them that much about it, though. I don’t think he needed to. He was just catching them in his psychic AoE and eating popcorn while they tore Doriath and Sirion apart.)

Or maybe Maglor could have resisted, in this scenario! Maybe he loved them enough, and had enough shreds of hope left, to pull through! But “what does Maglor think Fëanor would do/demand, and thus psyche himself into being Oath-compelled to do” is the lens through which we should be interpreting the issue.

Another edge case is Celebrimbor. In contrast to the peredhil, I do think all of Celebrimbor’s uncles, and even his father, would’ve been (unhappily) satisfied with him holding the Silmarils, had that option been offered. Even after he defected from their House. Due to a combination of: they know Fëanor himself would never have thought of harming his own grandson, and even if Celebrimbor had defected...even if he was then deliberately withholding the Silmarils, rather than merely holding them on behalf of the House of Fëanor while not officially associating with them anymore...could they picture their father drawing a sword on Tyelpe then, with the fell fire that had been in his eyes at Alqualondë, at Losgar...

(Note to self: write like 500 words about Curufin having this nightmare post-Nargothrond.)

I think they still could’ve endured all that. For much longer than they gave Elwing, for sure. Through a combination of You Have To Draw The Line Somewhere (eg, around still-beloved nephews), and knowing that if Fëanor had, in such circumstances, killed his own grandson in order to regain the Silmarils, he would immediately have done something like, oh, charge forward and get himself killed by Balrogs.

A note relevant to both these scenarios: the phrase “Fëanor, and Fëanor’s kin” describes who is going to be doing all the death-dealing from which neither dread nor danger nor Doom itself shall protect an unlawful Silmaril-taker. But per the “the Oath means whatever Fëanor meant” rule, it IS also a good rule for who is a lawful (to Fëanor) Silmaril-taker. Fëanor had no intention of turning his sons against one another over who exactly was holding a Silmaril; I do NOT think that is a concern at ALL (except in fun angsty fic). His whole thing is clinging desperately to the few people he believes love him utterly and trusting nobody else. He names “Fëanor, and Fëanor’s kin” in his terrible Oath about completing what he feels in this moment is the most important job in the world, and his seven sons promptly prove themselves deserving of such trust by swearing it themselves as well, so of course they’re all allowed to hold Silmarils! …and nobody else. Except little Tyelpe, and Nerdanel if he could be SURE she wouldn’t just give them to Aulë (how can he be sure...). And Finwë, of course, if only…

4. It will last until the end of time. Retrieving the Silmarils (after fucking up anyone in their way) will satisfy it, but not actually make it go away. If the gems were stolen again, it’d reawaken.

Okay, this is literal wording, as expressive of savage intent; and implied in Point 1; and pure What I Like: The line, “death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end!” indicates Fëanor’s intent that this is a FOREVER promise, and so it is. Their role in the Great Music of Arda is changed by this Oath, and it will never be changed back. (Because you need an ASTONISHING amount of personal strength of will and/or fever-pitch of driving emotion/determination to do something like that, maybe the sort that unlikely to happen even once in a lifetime, or maybe the sort that is a finite resource for even the Spirit of Fire? Or maybe because this sharp shift into a menacing minor key was part of the Great Music as written already? ...Yes.)

They are the Oath-Takers, Fëanor and his terrible Sons. Inventors of murder, initiators of fire and war, monsters of late First Age Beleriand and countless horror stories and dark folklore for many Ages after. They are Silmaril-seekers, kin-slayers, simultaneously unstoppable in their quest and fated to never achieve the one goal to which they’ve committed themselves. They are pride and wrath personified (and guilt, fear, grief, determination, hope, bitterest despair and the dream of joy salvaged from it); they are walking death and fire. That is who and what they are, until the world is unmade and remade. Even if they could regain the Silmarils (which they won’t, not until the End of Days), they would only be satisfied-for-now, Oath-flame simmering lower and quieter than ever, until anyone should dare take one of those precious gems from them again.

(Because I’ll give the ‘literal interpretation’ take this: there’s no actual mention of regaining the Silmarils in the Oath, and there’s also no mention of being done once they achieve that. “Woe unto world’s end” COULD mean “we’ll seek vengeance even after getting the gems back”, but as discussed above, that’s contra-indicated in the text, so...eternal Oath!)

However, as suggested in Points 2/3, the Oath can be...lived with, while unfulfilled. It’s pure canon that it can be approached slowly (Siege of Angband), or even outright ignored, albeit maybe only temporarily (not attacking Sirion for a few decades)! So maybe if the Oath-takers were to go through a lot of therapy in Mandos and conclude that they REALLY regret everything (except ably guarding Beleriand, etc. good things) and have no interest in doing it again, that they’d even rather stay in Mandos rather than bring violence back to everyone else in peaceful Aman...maybe if they then were released, and got to live without the stressors of war, sudden loss, Melkor actively fucking with them...maybe if Fëanor finally accepted Fingolfin (et al) as “full-siblings in heart” in truth, and thus Eärendil as trustworthy kin, and he agreed that Eärendil is doing well at his undeniably important job with the Silmaril (and Eärendil doing that job is a Notable Part of the Great Music by now in his own right, so he can’t just give it to someone else).....

And if in his 6000+ years of depressed, somewhat off-sane beach singing, Maglor achieved through steady building/tread-wearing of repetition, rather than through sudden blaze, the same Music-shaping intensity of emotion (guilt/grief/abnegation/pride/veneration) and determination/certainty (never again/[that star above] is the Best Thing and also Not For Me) as that terrible night-before-night in the Great Square of Tirion... Not enough to undo the Oath, no; that’s not an option, and he doesn’t even call on Eru for anything. But enough to kinda...twist it...in conjunction with:

(not quite lucidly) ceasing to mentally/emotionally distinguish between Eärendil, the Silmaril, the Star and the whole concept of Hope (Estel); and

concluding through keen literally analysis that Hope is one of the most important things in the world, one of the primary messages and gifts from Eru Iluvatar to his Children

...the functional sum of which is that Maglor, when Elrond drags him gently and mercilessly onto a ship, will now defend Eärendil’s bearing of the Silmaril with Oathly fervor and lethality-if-necessary, albeit more on the verge of tears about it than he used to be.... (Tears about the possibility of losing Hope more than about the necessarily lethality, though that, too.).... And neither Fëanor nor any of his other sons have ANY interest in fighting Maglor, especially when he’s not still, like, weirdly emotionally fragile about this..... 

I’m a huge fan of stories where people literally magically curse themselves as a metaphor for some big emotional issue and/or bad life choice, and then eventually figure out that they can reverse the curse through the power of major character growth. But what if instead characters literally magically curse themselves as a metaphor for some big emotional issue and/or bad life choice and it’s NOT reversible even with major character growth? What if sometimes you just have to live forever with the possessive, paranoid, vengeful, murderous instincts you cursed yourself with, and growth is about not just moving past them with the rest of your heart, but accepting that they���re permanently part of you and learning how to manage them without making them anyone else’s problem? While living with your newly-welcomed extended family in a land of, okay, not the pure peace and bliss that was once promised, but close enough because now we’ve figured out how to work around all our respective Marrings?

5. Even Fëanor doesn’t have the power to cast himself out into the Void, and the Valar aren’t going to do it for him. Eru would be well within his rights to do it while remaking Arda one day, but Eru would also be well within his rights to ignore the whole thing, at that point. Seeing as he’s re-composing anyway. But Fëanor and his sons have permanently Marred themselves, made themselves dangerous to everyone else’s peace, in such a way that Mandos is never going to let them out of his Halls even if their spirits are whole and healed in every other way.

...but what if he did, huh. What if he let them give it a shot. What if we salvaged a happy ending out of this after all?

[herald-divine-hell]

Some background and aspects of her personality:

Esaira Lavellan was a mere child when she witnessed the butchering of her mother and father by a wayward band of nobility near the city-state of Kirkwall in 9:22. What was founded by Clan Lavellan when they came searching for them was left unsaid, but rumors among the children whispered of a great ring of blacken ash, and scarlet embers speckling the piles like bleeding stars. The adults spurred away such rumors, but still spoke silently amongst one another, of the dangerous glint in a child's eyes, and beyond that the instability of this new orphan daughter.

Never a laughing child, what was left with the burnt corpses of her mother and father seemed to have taken what little petals of joy she held. Ever since that night, gloom and rage followed her, became the parents she had lost. Words did not come easily to Esaira Lavellan, even before her sorrowing, but now the words that did come were short, curt, heated with anger that never left her, that burned as fiercely as any pyre in purple eyes dark as coming twilight. She ate but a little, yet Keeper Deshanna was well aware that it was not foodstuff she craved, but vengeance.

Indeed, as the time came and her magic grew, it was Esaira who led the expeditions, the raids, against the shemlen, capturing one or two, and forcing them to flee in the forest, playing them as if they were sport. Esaira's actions received praised amongst many, especially those who despised the shemlen, but it won her no friends. Indeed, Esaira seemed only ever close to Keeper Deshanna, who took her as her own after the death of her parents, loving her as much as she can, and hoping to ease the melancholy that shrouded her like a heavy cloak. Yet it did little, even as Esaira excelled in great feats of magic, though they often came raw, untamed, as heavy and lumbering as a storm cloud swallowing the sun, and swift-footed among the scouts that she was.

Despite Esaira's arrogance and rage, Esaira's magical abilities and her adoration of all things Elven lent her the favorability of becoming the Keeper's First, despite outrage from Esaira's rival Varathen, who saw Esaira's anger as a detraminite and danger. Keeper Deshanna seemed well aware of those problems, however, and urged in private among the older Lavellans to take be a powerful bloc against Esaira, in case of Deshanna's early death. "Ease her anger and be a calming hand upon her shoulder, and in time the child will heal surely."

But Deshanna's love never wavered for this quiet, willful child, for though Esaira was fierce in anger and wild in speech, her loyalty for Deshanna and the Dalish was unquestionable. Perhaps it was that loyalty in which led to Deshanna to allow Esaira to attend the Conclave of Justinia V as a spy, despite the protests of many within Clan Lavellan. According to later sources, the Keeper of Clan Lavellan was reported to have said, "She will act righteously among the Shem if demanded, and we have no fears of her [acting against] our commands. Truly, she is among the best of our scouts, and hears deeper than many."

Esaira is...probably my most problematic oc. So it's hard to figure out who she would romance in Dragon Age?

[namiko2789]

When the war is over... will you have me? Part 4

The chill of Winterfell lingered in Prince Jacaerys Velaryon’s bones as he departed from the ancient seat of House Stark. The news of his brother Lucerys' death at the hands of Aemond Targaryen had been a brutal blow, one that left him reeling with grief and a thirst for vengeance. The north had offered its own form of cold comfort, but now he had to return to the warmth and chaos of Dragonstone, where his mother needed him.

Back in the Eyrie, peace was a fragile, cherished thing. Joffrey Velaryon and his betrothed, Rhaena of Pentos, had brought a sense of hope to the high seat of House Arryn. Though Tyraxes was still a young dragon, his presence alone was enough to keep potential attackers at bay. Jeyne Arryn had accepted them warmly, knowing the value of such alliances in these tumultuous times.

Despite the calm in the Vale, preparations for war never ceased. Lady Alia's potions, brewed with careful precision and knowledge gleaned from Maester Talos, had transformed the soldiers of the Vale into an invincible force. Their reputation spread across the realm, making them a key asset to Queen Rhaenyra's cause.

One evening, as the winds howled outside the Eyrie, Alia sat at her desk, quill in hand. She penned a letter to Prince Jacaerys, offering words of encouragement and strength. Her thoughts were with him, knowing the burden he carried was immense.

Dear Prince Jacaerys,

The news of Prince Lucerys' death has reached us, and my heart grieves with yours. Know that the Vale stands strong and ready to support our queen. The soldiers here, fortified with my potions, are an unyielding force. We await your command, ready to strike when needed.

Your strength and courage inspire us all. Hold fast, my prince. The light of hope still burns, and we will see it through together.

Yours faithfully,

Lady Alia Arryn

She sealed the letter with the Arryn sigil and set it aside. Next, she took another piece of parchment, this time addressing a more personal missive to Ser Erryk Cargyll. Her correspondence with him had become a source of comfort, a secret solace in the midst of the storm. His letters, filled with stories of his travels and battles, had grown increasingly dear to her.

Dear Ser Erryk,

I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. The Vale remains a bastion of strength, and much of that is thanks to the resilience of our people and the support of allies like you. Your words have been a balm to my soul, and I find myself eagerly awaiting each letter you send.

The nights here grow colder, but thoughts of you warm my heart. I wonder how you fare and if you think of me as often as I think of you. This war has brought many sorrows, but it has also brought us together in a way I never expected. For that, I am grateful.

Stay safe, dear Erryk. I look forward to the day we can meet again, not just as allies, but as friends—perhaps even more.

Yours affectionately,

Alia

She sealed this letter with a small smile, knowing that her words would reach him and perhaps bring a smile to his face as well. The connection she felt with Erryk was growing, and despite the chaos around them, it brought her a measure of peace.

As the days turned into weeks, the Vale remained untouched by the direct assaults of the Greens. Lady Jeyne's strategic mind ensured that their forces were always one step ahead. She sent troops by sea from Gulltown to join Rhaenyra's forces at King's Landing, and the reputation of the Vale's invincible soldiers continued to grow.

Rhaena of Pentos, now Lady Jeyne's ward, tended to her dragon eggs with a quiet determination. Each night, she prayed for their hatching, knowing that their emergence would shift the balance of power even further in their favor.

Amidst the preparations and planning, Alia found moments of solace in her letters to and from Erryk. Their bond deepened with each exchange, and though the war raged on, she held on to the hope that one day they would meet again under more peaceful skies.

As the Vale prepared for the next phase of the conflict, Alia remained steadfast, her resolve unwavering. The letters she sent were more than just words; they were a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found.