#THREAD. tower reversed

[encursed]

tower reversed

au starter for @sharpscion

           THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE WAY VERONICA walks that reads "urgent." It would be easy for someone like Scathach to tell; the way her heels snap against the halls of Castle Embla like whips, the way that her strides extend to the farthest reaches of her legs. She waits for no one. Her pace is sharp, impatient. Like a knife waiting to plunge into flesh.

          "...Scathach."

And so does the blade meet its target. Veronica halts just in front of him, arms crossed as she pulls her chin up to meet his gaze. She doesn't mean for her voice to sound as piercing as it does, but her words come out whetted regardless. It's a bad habit— the more she works, the more sullen her mood.

          And given the state of the Emblian Empire? It seems work is all she's been doing, lately.

          "Your contract has been dissolved. It has been for quite some time, as I'm sure you can tell." she speaks matter-of-factly, each syllable as distinct as her footsteps, "You are free to leave. I hear your family has been summoned to Askr. I can arrange for you to go there, should you so wish."

          A long silence punctuates her words. She is hesitant to say more; a far cry from her impatience earlier. Very suddenly, she begins to look small. Her shoulders slump forward. Her fingers lace together and, for a moment, she is the lonely girl she was a few years ago. She looks up at Scathach, expectant. As though she were waiting for him to interrupt her with a reply. Or perhaps wanting is the more accurate term. The words that will come next are not easy ones to speak. She hopes he can delay them.

          He does not. So, she speaks them. Quietly this time.

          "Don’t you understand? You’re free. Free to go, and free from me. I won’t blame you for it. You don’t even have to look back. I’ll allow it. Yet…” she sucks in a breath, “yet despite all that, you're still here. With me. Why?"

[tinyundercover]

How do you think Pepper and Felix would react if the rolls were reversed. Ex. Human and burrower switch. Either in their current state of already knowing each other or If Human!Pepper found Burrower!Felix in his apartment.

teehee i've been saving this ask for a couple days ...

pepper & felix (size swap au)

human!pepper meets borrower!felix word count: 1.8k

It took everything in Felix’s being not to panic.

Tight thread wrapped around his torso, constricting his breath, pinning his arms against himself. Pinches of pain flared up every time he struggled. The world swayed around him, a wide open space leaving him vulnerable and visible, dangling uselessly from his fishing hook.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

The blood was beginning to rush to his head from how he was hanging at an angle. With a twist of the shoulders, he took the deepest breath he could, his gaze frantically searching for a solution. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest. 

Felix’s fishing hook stretched above him, latched onto the edge of a shelf. In a clumsy mishap Felix had gotten tangled in his thread and fallen, only to be left stranded in the air, one arm pinned to his side while the other twisted near his face.

The kitchen of the bakery was fairly small, meaning that the very moment the owner entered the kitchen, Felix would be right in his line of sight. The borrower cursed at the realization, writhing.

He supposed he should be lucky that the owner of the bakery— a sturdy, reserved, dark-haired human who was ironically rather surly for someone who baked cookies all day— was the only person working, and that he was currently behind the front counter, haggling with a customer. Felix prayed that the customer would keep their argument going long enough for him to escape.

One of Felix’s hands was twisted against his collarbone. With a surge of desperation he yanked his hand away, but he only served to tighten the thread around his shoulders, sending a pinch of pain through his body. He groaned, slumping his shoulders and staring uselessly at the underside of the shelf.

“Fuck.” Felix glanced anxiously at the kitchen door when he heard the owner’s voice rise, indicating that he was approaching. Heart pounding, he jerked, attempting to knock his hook free. If he was lucky, he’d possibly be able to survive the fall to the counter with minor injuries.

The door swung open, and Felix cursed again, panic rising. In the corner of his eye he could see the human enter the kitchen, appearing much larger than he remembered, grumbling under his breath.

“What an asshole… thinking she can just get a discount for complaining…”

For half of a second, Felix thought that maybe he would go unnoticed— then, of course, he remembered that he was currently hanging from a shelf in plain view.

Sharp gray eyes rounded on Felix, and the borrower bit back a noise of panic, uselessly jerking away. 

Only a few feet away, the human positively towered over Felix, sending cold fear rocketing through the borrower’s body. A stained black apron barely concealed the broadness of the human’s torso and shoulders. Two enormous hands twitched in surprise upon spotting Felix, both undoubtedly possessing the strength to snatch up the borrower with ease… oh god, even one of those fingers could do unbelievable damage to Felix without even trying.

Felix knew that he was trembling, the adrenaline in his body having vanished completely. He squeezed his eyes shut as the human let out a low noise, confused, hearing the telltale footsteps that he was about to be grabbed up against his will.

“Holy fuck.”

It didn’t matter what the human said— Felix would’ve flinched back regardless. The borrower swallowed, peeking his eyes open just long enough to see a tan face, brow furrowed in utter disbelief, before he gasped and turned away again, heart pounding wildly.

“Jesus, what are you?” The voice grew louder as the human inched closer, and Felix’s breath shook, instincts going haywire.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Felix whispered, barely audible, more to himself than to the human. Through his watery gaze he caught sight of the human removing his gloves and setting them aside, which could only mean one thing. Felix choked on his breath.

The human didn’t seem to have heard him. Features sharp and furrowed, as if he was incredibly focused, the human reached towards Felix.

The borrower cried out in shock at the sudden approach of two hands, long fingers just as threatening as ten sharp daggers. The panic in his body sent him thrashing again, and he managed to kick one finger before the human jerked his hands back, scowling.

“Jesus Christ, man, I’m trying to help you. Relax.”

Felix wasn’t sure how to explain that being suspended from a shelf for the rest of time was preferable to being held in either one of those massive, grabby hands.

“No, please—!” The words escaped Felix’s mouth in a startled shout as the hands approached again. They jerked to a stop, and Felix caught sight of the human’s bewildered expression.

“You can talk?”

“Please, please— I’ll get down, I’ll leave, just don’t touch me, please—”

Felix’s begging didn’t seem to appease the human at all. Disturbed, the human lowered his hands, gray eyes flickering. “Dude, I’m not gonna hurt you. Alright?” He sent a wary glance over his shoulder, as if a customer might come barging into the kitchen, before fixating back on the trembling, teary borrower. 

Seeming to decide that Felix’s terrified silence was a good enough answer, the human reached forward again.

Felix’s rush of desperate pleading fell on deaf ears. The moment those enormous fingers made contact with his torso, Felix gasped and fell silent, choking on his breath.

The human remained incredibly quiet as he closed a hand around the borrower, considerate of the thread wrapped painfully around his body and limbs. Felix attempted to jerk away from the imposing fingers, but they were unrelenting— although surprisingly gentle.

Felix’s hook was unlodged quickly by the human’s second hand. When Felix weakly opened his eyes (not quite realizing that he had squeezed them shut to begin with) he found himself sitting in the human’s large palm, arms still pinned awkwardly to his sides, chest heaving with short, constricted breaths.

“There.” The human spoke bluntly, searching absentmindedly through a drawer with his other hand. “Let’s get that string off of you.”

Felix didn’t quite process what that meant until the human presented him with the largest pair of scissors he had ever seen in his life.

At the sight of the gleaming blades, Felix whimpered, twitching back as much as he could. The ability to form words seemed to have left his body completely.

Gray eyes searched the borrower’s shaky form, and softened. As oblivious as the human was to how much his own presence terrified the borrower, the human clearly had enough common sense to understand how threatening a sharp blade might appear to someone the size of his finger. “It’s okay. Seriously, it’ll only take a second, alright?”

The assurance did not help. Felix cringed away as the scissors approached, a sob threatening to escape his body. When the cold tip of the scissors brushed against his stomach he froze, eyes screwed shut, terrified to even take a breath.

Admittedly, the human had been right— it took less than a second. With the snip of the scissors, Felix’s shoulders slumped, feeling the thread loosen instantly. Gasping for the deepest breath he could take, Felix jerked back, slapping a hand to his chest.

The scissors were gone in an instant, replaced by inquisitive gray eyes, searching Felix’s form. “There. Are you okay?” 

It took a long moment for Felix to steady his breathing. Wiping at the tears that had dampened his face, the borrower squirmed free of the thread, body shuddering in relief. He had never appreciated fresh air more in his entire life.

“I—” he flushed under the human’s intense gaze, crawling back until he bumped into the enormous fingers. “Thank— thank you.”

The human only raised an eyebrow. “Don’t mention it. What the hell are you doing in my kitchen? What are you?”

Felix should have expected the interrogation earlier, honestly. Wincing and rubbing at the indents in his arms, his gaze flickered away. “Can you— can you put— me down, first? Please?”

It was difficult enough to get the question out, let alone meet the gaze of the human who currently held Felix’s life in his hand. Fortunately, the human seemed willing to comply, making Felix want to sob with relief.

“Uh— yeah. Here.” Brow furrowed, the human lowered his hand to the counter, where Felix used the last of his depleted energy to throw himself off onto the silver surface. Broken threads held in his trembling hands, Felix stumbled back, dragging his hook along with him. His heart continued to race.

There’s an exit behind those bags of flour. It’s so close. 

The human peered down at him expectantly, large hands now braced against the edge of the counter. He loomed over the borrower, shoulders wide and towering, causing Felix’s breath to shorten as if he was still trapped in thread.

Felix could barely take in all of the human. He filled Felix’s entire vision.

“So, again— what are you?” The human pressed again, leaning closer. 

By some miracle, the tense silence in the air was broken by the pleasant twinkling of the doorbell up front.

Felix could have sobbed. The human cursed, gaze flickering to the kitchen door before switching back to the borrower in front of him. “Ugh— okay, stay right there.”

The human stepped back, momentarily scanning the counter. Once he seemed sure that there was no place for Felix to escape to (a pleasantly incorrect guess) he turned away, walking briskly towards the door. Felix was met with one last glowering glance before the human left the kitchen.

Oh my god.

The adrenaline came rushing back in an instant, and Felix snatched up his hook and thread, bolting towards the wall. 

The relief that hit his body the moment he was safely nestled in the walls was unbelievable. With a shuddering gasp, he slid to the ground, hugging himself. His heart pounded.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, blinking away tears of elation. “Holy shit.”

He spent several minutes on the ground, steadying his breathing, trying to calm his shaking hands. Vaguely, he heard the footsteps of the human reentering the kitchen, and the reverberating voice searching for him. Felix dropped onto his back, staring at the dusty wood around him, chest heaving.

He couldn’t believe his luck. The human had not only freed him, but had been distracted just long enough for Felix to escape harm-free. Felix could have cheered if it hadn’t been such a harrowing experience.

It sucks that I’ll have to move now.

His gaze slid towards the crack in the wall, and feeling lightheaded he scrambled over, peering out.

Through a gap between two towering bags of flour, Felix could see the human. His arms were crossed, drumming his fingers over his tan forearm, clearly bewildered. The uneasy expression on his face told Felix that he was doubting if their short interaction had actually happened.

Felix released a tense breath. There was no evidence that he had been caught at all— so maybe this human would chalk him up to imagination? Could he be that lucky?

The human’s broad shoulders slumped, giving up, before he turned away to check on the wedding cake currently baking in the oven. Felix chewed his lip, spirits rising.

Maybe this will be okay.

--

silly pepper doesnt realize just how scary he looks

this probably won't be continued aside from occasional one-shots, if I get the inspiration. this was fun!! thanks for the size swap suggestion anon!

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm @clumsiergiantess @vee-normous @fee-hunter @torakan @mabelisthebatman @andithewhumper @mothsintherain @violetlight @heroofthe13thday @phoenix-on-the-run

[its-ironic-right]

Now how about the reverse?

Gideon dying before (maybe while protecting) Kremy.

Sometimes I get prompts that blow way past 500 words…

Where is the line drawn? Mathematically it’s between two points, but who determines those points? What gives them the right to define a beginning and an end?

Let’s simplify.

Life has a determined beginning and end. You’re born, you live, you die. (Well, if you’re lucky you die. Sometimes you just live and that’s so much worse.) The thread of your life held taut between two fingertips. That was a line drawn.

Death comes for us all. As a friend, an enemy, it comes without hesitation. In the smoldering ashes of a burnt out planet, death is the only constant. But death is known to play games. It loves a gamble.

Blasts of white hot magic fly through the air. It hits its mark with a sickening thud, knocking its victim to their knees.

“Shit.” A hissed curse, flesh hitting a wooden dock. Water laps under foot, breaks in the planks reveal white peaks. A heavy current, falling into the drink would mean certain death. Another bolt of magic, missing its target by a hair.

A roaring beast shoots out from thick woods, rending the magic users flesh from bone. Enemy neutralized for now, time to inspect the damage. The party wasn’t completely stupid. An attacker this strong wouldn’t come alone. Nothing to do but run.

“Sound off, who’s unconscious?” Kremy croaked. His ribs were broken, it took twice the effort to breathe or speak. He still needed to know who was left. A groan.

“I’m… okay. Very injured but alive.” Morning Frost was battered and broken, blood caked his fur and everything smelled awful. But conscious. Torbek looked up from his prey.

“Torbek is here. Torbek could definitely be doing better.” slashes oozed deep magenta from his side. That left Gricko and Gideon.

“Oh fuck, where’s our healer?” Kremy searched what was left of the dock. A green arm shot up from under some rubble.

“Here… I’ve got… banañas… one spell slot left.” Not ideal. Goodberries would get them through the night at least. One member left. Kremy’s heart dropped.

“Anyone see Gid?”

There was a peace that came with unconsciousness. A twilight state where nothing hurt, sinking into the bliss of oblivion. Gideon was no stranger to death. They crossed paths countless times, either by his hand or another. He wouldn’t say they were on friendly terms, more like work associates. For all his fire and bravado Gideon had a workman’s attention to detail when it came to destruction. Death was another detail.

He’s in an empty field. Rows of black dirt stretch in either direction. It looks familiar. He picks up a rock and chucks it. It flies in an arch, landing with a ‘thud’ yards away.

“Good arm.” Gideon whips around to see a towering figure of a man. He has a hand Up over his eyes like a visor, peering out to wherever the rock landed. The man looks down and smiles. Gideon is ten years old, his Pa ruffles his hair.

“…Pa?” Pa Coal winks.

“Who else?” He whistles. “Damn Gid, you really did a number on yourself. I thought it’d be another few years before I saw you again.” Gideon looks down. No longer a child but a man. A man with a hole burnt into his chest.

“Oh no, am I dead?”

“Almost dead. You’ve got a few hours before your organs shut down completely.” Pa leans down and picks up a rock. He throws it. It soars through a blue sky and lands farther than Gideons. The prairie didn’t have many ponds for skipping stones, but if you flicked your wrist in just the right way you could watch it skid across dirt. He remembers being a kid, throwing rocks into empty fields and challenging Pa to see how far they could throw them. Pa always had the better pitching arm.

“Almost dead, huh.” He threw another rock. Pa nodded.

“You took a bolt of lightning to the ticker Gid, you should be thankful it’s an ‘almost’ and not a ‘definitely’.” Uncomfortable silence passes between them. Funny how much “almost dead” didn’t bother him. Maybe it was the “almost” part. That meant hope.

“Kremy will figure it out, he always does.”

“You found a good husband, I’m glad.” Gideon blushes and stammers.

“Well, ironically my husband. More like a partner in crime, you know?” Pa slaps a hand on his back and he’s five years old.

A broken plate lays shattered on the floor of their shotgun shack. It was the prettiest thing they owned. Deep purple with scalloped edges trimmed in gold. The gold was flaking and you could barely see the vine motif in the center, but it was the only thing in the shack not meant for work. Gideon had wanted to look at it up close, to trace the lines and curves of snaking green vines. He’d attempted to climb up the shelf, it toppled under his weight. His face falls, what would Pa say when he found out? He can’t find out. Gideon pushes all the pieces into a pile. He’s placing them together like a puzzle, lining the image the best he can, trying like hell to make jagged edges match seamlessly. Tears stream down his face, he can’t let Pa see the plate is broken beyond repair. Tiny fingers coated in porcelain dust and microscopic cuts can’t put it together again. He’ll have to lie.

“The gods did not gift you a silver tongue, son.”

Gideon looks away from the broken plate. Shame crashing into his heart.

“I tried to fix it…”

“You tried to hide it. That’s not the same.”

He remembers being frustrated with the shards, making more and more mistakes until he gives up. He gathers the pieces into a bucket and sneaks out the front door. The plate is missing less than a day before Pa finds it in the tool shed.

Suddenly, pain. Deep, burning into his chest. He gasps and collapses, clutching the hole in his heart.

Its hot. So fucking hot. Is he in an oven? A forge? He opens his eyes again. The train. Of course. Metal stained black with soot, coals smoldering in the boiler, waiting for him to set them alight. He doesn’t have to look down to know what he looks like. The image is seared in his brain forever. A tear rolls down Pa Coal’s weathered cheek.

“The worst part about being dead: you can’t protect the living.” He feels the cuts and burns etched into his skin. This wasn’t right. He’d left the train, killed every mother fucker in the thing and jumped to freedom. This was a vision, it had to be. Gideon wouldn’t stay in hell unless he was dead. “Tell me the truth, son.”

“What the fuck is going on?!” He’s gasping, smoke filling every capillary in his lungs. Choking on every breath.

“You’re dying. Ever heard the phrase ‘life flashing before your eyes’?” Pa’s voice is low and sad. Steam escapes from a smoke stack, a shrill whistle piercing the air. And he can’t fucking breath. “Told you, your organs are failing.”

“Kremy will fix it. I know he will.”

“How do you know?”

“He always does.”

Everything goes dark. His stomach turns, he can breathe. Barely. Everything hurts. He’s discombobulated, soaked to the bone in rain and piss. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know where he is. An alleyway in Agwé, somewhere in the Crawdad Corner. The turning point in his life that made it worth living. He was bruised from some fight, passed out drunk in the rain. He didn’t remember how he got there, fate has a funny way of taking you places you never expect. Eyes still shut, he doesn’t want to see the look on Pa’s face. This is him at his lowest. But he knows what comes next. A whisper in the dark. Pattering rain against pavement nearly drowns it out, little words that create big waves. Eyes open to meet golden eyes. A smile, a handshake, a new life. So quick it almost didn’t happen.

“So that’s him? The man who will save you?” Gideon nods.

“Always does.” Pa Coal chuckles.

The alleyway fades into a tavern. Nondescript people bustle around, ordering drinks between lively conversation. A barmaid whistles a soft tune. Swatting wandering hands and passing mugs of ale. Gideon sips at a whiskey. Warmth fills his belly. Pa leans against the bar facing towards the door, opposite his son. Countless taverns litter his memory, but this one stuck out. A night that lived in his core. Kremy plays cards across the room. He’s winning, he always wins. Even when he loses he somehow comes out on top. It’s easy settling into this moment, nothing hurt. Yet.

“I’ve come close to death loads of times, why am I getting the full treatment this go around?”

“Never this close.” Gideon scoffed. He shot back the whiskey and turned around.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve died before. Or came close.”

“Gideon, you’re dead. Almost. I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t your brain firing its last synapses.” Grief pangs at his heart. Of course.

“So you’re not really here. Just my brain trying to make sense of everything.” He lights a cigar with his finger. The tavern moves around them. Kremy wins another hand, Gideon can see the losers fist clench under the table. His cue. He crosses the room, The cigar leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. The loser rears his fist, Gideon catches it in his hand. A headbutt and two punches later they’re running out the door. Kremy laughs. /Gid I could kiss you!/ In the fleeting light of passing windows, Kremy shines. For a second, Gideon wishes he would. They duck into an alley, footsteps run past them. Gideon is intimately aware of how close they were. He could do it. Lean in and kiss Kremy, he could blame it on the adrenaline. He could lie.

“Do you love him?” Gideon almost jumps out of his skin. Pa smokes a cigar across the alley.

“Of course. I love him like a brother.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Something rams itself down his spine, searing every nerve. The scene dissipates. Oblivion engulfs him.

Three.

Two.

One.

His time is up. He can feel it. He wonders what happened. Did everyone die? Or just him?

It’s warm here. He always thought death would be cold. He could fall asleep like this. Although it wouldn’t be sleep. Sleep had an end.

Guess that’s why it was called eternal slumber.

One.

Two.

Three.

Gideon gasps awake. He was alive. The throbbing pain in his chest told him that. Golden eyes rimmed in red stare down at him.

“Gid!” Kremy pulled him close, forehead to snout. Gideons body sprawled out from under the alligator’s grasp. Tears spilled out in streams against scales. “Oh my gods I thought I lost you! Your heart stopped-“ Gideon’s lips met his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, more weak and desperate than anything. When they broke, Gideon winked.

“I knew you could do it.”

Point A to Point B, but the interesting part was all the twists in between. Who knows who draws the line. So long as they had a sense of humor.

[mouthpoisons]

i dont think im going to have time to make a super long ''the arcane is the narrative and its pushing everything towards viktor's apocalypse wizard ascension'' post Part Two but i need to get this really specific concept at least written down so i can go ''i told you so'' on saturday

i recommend reading the rest of my theory list first

jinx's big and catastrophic interactions with the arcane/hexgems/etc throughout the show so far are only ''jinxes'' from our's and the characters' perspectives. in actuality she is firmly acting on the arcane's will and furthering the plot with the necessary deaths and tragedies. the arcane has an end goal to turn viktor into heimerdinger's apocalpse wizard. absolutely nothing jinx has done so far has actually ''jinxed'' or ''derailed'' anything. she's acting according to plan, and pushing everyone towards this fixed end point.

jayce was saved and given a crystal as a child, kickstarting his lifelong obsession with harnessing magic

jinx had to drop one of his crystals and explode it for basically the whole story to be set into motion

she had to accidentlly kill vander/mylo/claggor and become unstable, guilt ridden, jinx the loose cannon. vander's body also had to be salvagable to become relevant to viktor's ascension later.

to us and the characters, jinx's big jinx nuke at the end of season one is so unfathomably tragic. we were on the brink of peace between the cities! the whole story pretty much couldve ended there! but jinx jinxes it, and very importantly, kills viktor, catalysing his fusion with the hexcore, the event horizon for him becoming the apocalypse wizard(killing cassandra is also obviously extremely important on the caitlyn and ambessa side of things)

i think act 3 will feature jinx pulling off her first actual jinx in the show. a jinx in service of the characters, not the arcane/narrative, that breaks them free of the path of doom. she's going to do something so sudden and destructive that it changes absolutely Everything in ways we never thought possible.

i really believe readings similar to the ones ive made about jinx and viktor (and briefly jayce at the start here) can be made for pretty much the entire main cast of the show, and i challenge the reader to go back and watch some scenes with the assumption that the arcane itself is alive and malicious and has an agenda. pay attention to what happens to all the weapons and macguffins, who gets killed and why. go in with the assumption that there have been no accidents. that we're watching a butterfly effect in reverse, we're converging to a fixed point, but everyone is going to jinx it and defy the narrative in act 3.

jinx cutting her hair (long and blue) as a symbolic cutting of the thread of fate, maybe. bombing the hexgate as a physical towering symbol of the arcane's control over everyone's lives, maybe. chinhand

[petalsthefish]

All The Kings Men

After Prince James is cursed by the evil Lord Voldemort, Lily searches for ways to save him. A Sleeping Beauty Jily Role Reversal Re-telling. Day #20 of the jilytober song shuffle prompts with: "All The Kings Men" by The Rigs READ ON A03

In a kingdom veiled in sunlight, there was a girl as wild as the fire she carried within—Lily Evans. The daughter of the Captain of the Guard, she was as untamed as the horses she often stole from the royal stables and as free as the wind that swept across the cliffs beyond the castle. Wherever she went, Prince James Potter followed, his laughter always trailing just behind hers. A prince, but more than that, a boy whose heart had long belonged to the reckless girl who ruled his world with chaos and fire.

Lily was trouble—not the gentle, mischievous kind, but a force of nature that left disorder in her wake. She and James didn’t just defy the palace’s rules; they shattered them. From midnight raids on the kitchens to scaling the highest towers and hanging banners adorned with crude stick-figure drawings, they were rebels in a court that demanded less. Together, they created more, a secret kingdom of love and laughter, far from the watchful eyes of courtiers and kings.

But on this autumn afternoon, as the world turned gold beneath the kiss of the dying sun, something was different. The crispness in the air whispered of change, of a future neither of them wanted to face. They sat perched in the royal orchards, high among the branches—James lounging on a thick limb, an apple forgotten in his hand, while Lily hung from the branch above him, her fiery hair brushing his cheeks. Her laughter, sharp and free, echoed through the trees, a song even the birds stopped to listen too.

"I can't imagine calling you 'King' James," she hummed, "can you imagine me saying it?"

"I don’t want it," James muttered, his voice low, the apple slipping from his grasp. His hazel eyes, so often full of mischief, were distant, tracing the jagged line of mountains far beyond the castle walls. "I don’t want to be king, Lily. Not if it means losing this—losing us. I’d rather ride into the wilds with you, sleep beneath the stars, where no one expects anything from me."

Lily swung herself upright, her emerald gaze sharp as it locked onto his, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "A reluctant king who’d rather be a rogue? That’s rich, James." She nudged him with her boot, but her voice softened, betraying something deeper beneath her jest. "But I understand. You’re not the only one shackled, some of us have to be ladies."

She didn’t need to say more—he saw it in the way her eyes flickered toward the castle far below, where the court awaited her with its gowns and ballrooms, finishing schools and chains of propriety. They wanted to shape her into something delicate, something that would never fit the wild soul who raced horses and climbed trees. Each time she donned those silken gowns, a piece of her freedom crumbled, as if the wild, fierce girl James knew was slipping further away.

And he saw it—saw her. The girl who ruled the stables and the orchards with a wicked grin, who faced down the palace guards with nothing but fire in her veins—that Lily was fading. And it scared him more than any crown, any throne.

At first, she didn’t notice how his gaze lingered too long when she wore those gowns, or how his easy laughter softened into something quieter, something almost vulnerable. But when she caught him staring across the banquet hall, his hazel eyes darkened with emotions he never spoke aloud, her heart clenched. This wasn’t the teasing look of a boy toward his best friend—it was something far more dangerous.

It was love, and they were both cursed to someone else. 

Now, in the soft light of the setting sun, James looked at her with that same quiet intensity, the silence between them stretching like a thread about to snap. The world was shifting outside their orchard, and they both knew they couldn’t outrun it forever.

“Lily,” James whispered, his voice barely a breath, trembling with uncertainty. “What if we didn’t do it? What if we ran? Right now. No throne, no court, no ballrooms. Just us. We could be free.”

Her breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against her heart, against the fragile future they had both been avoiding. The thought of leaving it all behind—the duty, the expectations—was intoxicating. But the world beyond their wild kingdom wasn’t so kind, and they both knew it.

“You know we can’t.” Was her well-thought response. 

Still, for a brief, heart-stopping moment, she let herself imagine it. A life where they weren’t bound by the chains of duty. A world where they were simply Lily and James, free to race the wind beneath an endless sky. Free to be together. 

But the court had other plans, ones that made her blood burn with anger. James’s seventeenth birthday loomed, and with it, the court’s expectations. He was to leave, journey to a neighboring kingdom, and meet the princess they had chosen for him—his future bride. A girl handpicked for political alliances, with royal blood and the cold calculation of a council that cared nothing for the boy who would one day wear the crown.

The thought of him with someone else—someone polished and perfect, chosen by strangers—made her want to scream.

She had spent too many sleepless nights staring at her ceiling, the ache in her chest growing sharper as the day James would leave her loomed closer. But it wasn’t just the fear of losing him to another that gnawed at her. It was the fear of losing him entirely—the boy who laughed too loud, who pulled her into mischief, who belonged in the world with her, not trapped in the gilded throne room.

They didn’t speak of it, but the weight of their impending separation hung between them, heavy as smoke, choking the air.

And then everything changed.

It happened during one of the royal feasts—extravagant, tedious affairs that Lily despised, though she had no choice but to attend. This particular banquet was worse than usual. A delegation from a neighboring kingdom had arrived, bringing with them a wizard of notorious arrogance, a man whose pride filled the hall like a suffocating fog. Lord Voldemort, as he called himself, was infamous for holding grudges and commanding fear wherever he went, and from the moment he entered the feast, his presence cast a pall over the room.

Lily had been doing her best to avoid the pomp and pretense, standing by the punch bowl, her laughter bright and genuine as she chatted with James. He had been making a sarcastic comment about how the stuffed pigeons decorating the banquet table looked as if they were on the verge of exploding. She couldn’t help but laugh at his dry wit, the sound of her amusement carrying through the hall. It was one of those moments that made the dreary event almost bearable.

But then, in the middle of their banter, Lily accidentally stepped back—right onto Lord Voldemort’s foot.

“I’m so sorry,” she said immediately, her laughter fading as she turned to face the man. His presence was oppressive, his face pale and snake-like, with a nose so flat it was almost non-existent. She tried to explain, “I didn’t see you there, I was—”

“Watch where you’re going, you bumbling peasant,” the wizard snapped.

Lily froze, her apology caught in her throat. The insult stung, but before she could say another word, James was already stepping forward, his expression hardening in a way Lily hadn’t seen in a long time. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, were sharp now, blazing with something far more dangerous.

“Mind your tone,” James said, his voice steady but laced with a warning. He placed himself slightly in front of Lily, his posture defensive, protective. “She apologized. You could try some manners for a change.”

Voldemort sneered, his dark eyes narrowing. “Manners? From the likes of her? She should be more careful in the presence of her betters.”

Lily flinched at the cruel words, but before she could react, James was already moving. His usual reckless energy shifted into something far more intense, more deliberate. He stepped closer to Voldemort, his voice low and biting. “There’s no one in this hall who's better, least of all you. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”

The tension between them crackled. James, ever the reckless prince, didn’t back down, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his hazel eyes flashing with defiance. It was one thing to insult him—James could brush off nearly any slight with a grin and a clever retort. 

But to insult Lily? 

That was unforgivable.

Lily placed a hand on James’ arm, trying to defuse the situation before it escalated further. “James, it’s fine, really,” she whispered, though her heart swelled at his unwavering defense of her.

But James wasn’t finished. He’d already taken an instant dislike to the wizard, and now that dislike was searing into something more. The man’s arrogance, the way his presence commanded the room with fear, grated against James’ very nature. And the way he had spoken to Lily—it lit a fire in James that couldn’t be easily extinguished.

The moment Voldemort’s sweeping robes brushed against the table, knocking over a bowl of pea soup that splattered onto his stately robes, the prince’s lips curled into a grin, one that was far from friendly. The room had already fallen into an uneasy silence, the courtiers sensing the brewing conflict. James’s shoes were partially covered, but Lily watched as he kicked the bowl so it splattered along the backside of Lord Vodemort’s robes purposely. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” James said, his voice dripping with exaggerated politeness, the mockery in his tone impossible to miss. “I like hot soup.” 

“You foolish boy!” Voldemort’s pale face darkened, his long fingers twitching toward his wand as he looked down at the mess. “It’s ruined my robes!” he said dramatically, his voice oozing with disdain.

James raised an eyebrow, the dangerous glint in his hazel eyes sharpening. “Let me help you with that, Lord Moldy-mort,” he said, the nickname slipping from his lips with a grin that could only be described as audacious.

The hall went deathly still. Courtiers exchanged wide-eyed glances, some stifling nervous laughter, others holding their breath. Everyone knew the wizard was dangerous, his temper legendary. But James Potter had never been one to hold his tongue, and certainly not when someone insulted the people he cared about.

Voldemort’s face turned a livid shade of purple, his pride wounded beyond repair. His hand gripped his wand tightly, and for a moment, it looked as if he might lash out in front of the entire court. But James didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, his smile never faltering, his body a shield between Voldemort’s venomous gaze and Lily.

“Careful, little Prince,” Voldemort hissed, his voice low and menacing. “You don’t know who you’re toying with.”

James tilted his head, his grin never wavering. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Lily’s heart raced as she watched the exchange, fear creeping up her spine, though she’d never say it out loud. But beneath the fear was something else—something fiercer. The way James stood there, unyielding, ready to defend her without a second thought, made her chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. He wasn’t just standing up to Voldemort for the sake of a joke or some reckless impulse. 

He was standing up for her.

And in that moment, she knew.

Voldemort’s eyes flicked from James to Lily, his sneer deepening. “You’ll regret this, boy,” he spat, before sweeping away from the table in a whirl of dark robes, leaving the hall in tense, uneasy silence.

As soon as the wizard was gone, the tension broke like a dam, the courtiers whispering amongst themselves, some in disbelief, others in admiration of James’ boldness. But Lily could only focus on the boy in front of her, her heart still pounding.

“James…” she began, her voice soft, unsure of what to say.

He turned to her, his expression softening as his hand found hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a silent gesture of comfort. “You alright?”

She nodded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

James shrugged. “Course I did. No one talks to you like that.”

Lily felt a warmth spread through her, her heart full. James had always been her partner in chaos, her partner in everything. But in moments like this, when he stood between her and the world, she realized just how much more he was. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice catching.

James squeezed her hand gently, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “Anytime, Lily. Now, let’s get out of here before Princess Mary tries to hunt me down.”

But the lingering unease in the pit of her stomach refused to fade.

Days later, while sparring in the training yard, James pricked his finger on a blade that should have been ordinary. The moment the metal touched his skin, he collapsed, his body crumpling to the ground. Panic swept through the castle, Sirius Black shouting for help as physicians and wizards were summoned, their magic and remedies useless. No one could wake the prince.

James had fallen into an unnatural sleep, cursed—everyone knew—by the wizard whose pride he had wounded.

Lily’s world shattered in that moment. She had always known there would be a day when James would be pulled away from her, bound by duty to a crown she despised. 

But not like this. 

Not so suddenly. 

Not with so much left unsaid between them.

She had rushed to his chambers, heart pounding, disbelief clawing at her throat as she stood over his still body. She had shaken him, called his name over and over until her voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks as she begged him to wake. But James lay silent, his face serene, as though simply asleep. The lively spark of his hazel eyes was gone, and with it, her world.

All the king’s men, and all their horses, couldn’t find a way to save him.

Weeks bled into months, and hope drained from the kingdom. The people whispered of James as though he were already lost. Lily could hear the courtiers murmur about the next heir, the rumors of who might take the throne if James never woke. It was as though the world had already moved on without him, as though he was a ghost in his own palace.

And in that time, the pressure mounted on Lily. Her father, the Captain of the Guard, had sat her down one evening, his eyes heavy with both sorrow and duty. “You have to think about your place, Lily,” he’d said, his voice quiet yet firm. “The world keeps turning, even when we lose the ones we love. You’re getting older, it’s time to marry, and the Prince is not yours to marry–not anyone’s at this moment.”

But how could she think of courtly duties, of finding her place, when the boy who was her entire world lay trapped in an enchanted sleep? How could she care about dancing lessons and courtship when James was locked in this cursed slumber, unreachable behind a veil of dark magic?

So she stayed by his bedside, day after day, her heart splitting in two. Sometimes she whispered to him, her voice barely a breath, telling him stories of their adventures, of the times they’d ruled the palace together as kids. Other times, she simply sat in silence, willing him to wake, to bring back the boy who had always been there, with his laughter, his teasing smile.

But no magic, no remedy, nothing could reach him.

That was when she threw herself into the search, hunting through the castle’s dusty archives, seeking out every healer and sorcerer she could find. She combed through ancient texts and forgotten spells with a desperation that burned in her chest. The months turned into years, but failure only sharpened her determination. She refused to believe that this was how it would end.

And then, finally, she found it. Hidden away in the forgotten corners of the castle’s vast library, a crumbling book told an old folktale—of a prince cursed into eternal sleep, who could only be awakened by a kiss of true love.

Lily scoffed at first. 

A kiss? 

It sounded absurd, like something from one of the fairytales she and James had mocked in their younger years. But after every spell had failed, after years of searching, she began to wonder. Could there be some truth to the legend? Was it possible that, in all her searching, the simplest answer had been there all along?

With nothing left to lose, she climbed the spiral stairs to the tower where James slept, her heart thundering in her chest. True love’s kiss. It sounded ridiculous. And yet… she couldn’t deny the weight of what lay between them, the unspoken bond that had always been more than friendship, more than mischief. 

Could it really be so simple?

She stopped at his bedside, her heart a storm of emotions. Staring down at James, at the boy who had been her partner in every adventure, she rolled her eyes. “Alright, Prince,” she muttered, her voice catching in her throat. “Enough of this. Time to wake up.”

With a deep breath, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his—softly, as if it was the smallest test. But the moment their lips touched, something surged through her. Magic sparked between them, and for a single heartbeat, the world seemed to pause.

Then, slowly, James stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, hazel and familiar, blinking in confusion. He looked up at her, dazed. “…Lily?” His voice was rough, but the sound of it nearly broke her.

Lily’s breath hitched, disbelief flooding her. “James… you’re awake!”

He sat up slowly, blinking as though waking from a dream. “What happened?” he rasped, his voice laced with confusion.

Lily laughed, her breath coming in short, shaky bursts as she tried to steady herself. “Turns out I’m your true love. Who would’ve guessed?”

James’ dazed confusion melted into a familiar, teasing grin, though there was a vulnerability in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. “True love, huh?” he mused, his voice raspy but playful. “I always knew you couldn’t resist me.”

She smacked his arm lightly, though her heart pounded in her chest, the joy bubbling up, overwhelming. He was back. He was really back. And with him, that wildfire between them, the connection that had never dimmed, even in all the years of silence. It was as though the world had shifted back into place, the axis she hadn’t realized had been off-kilter correcting itself.

James sat up slowly, his body stiff from years of unnatural stillness, but his hand moved with familiar ease as it cupped her cheek. Lily felt the warmth of his palm, the roughness of his fingers as if it were the first time. She settled beside him on the mattress, leaning into his touch as his eyes roamed her face, taking in the changes. The way her cheekbones had sharpened, how there were faint lines around her eyes from years of worry, yet they still crinkled the same when she smiled.

“How old are we?” he asked suddenly, his voice laced with disbelief.

Lily hesitated, biting her lip. “I turned twenty a few moons ago.”

His breath hitched. “You mean I’ve been asleep for five years?” His voice cracked, and the weight of it hit him all at once—five years, gone in the blink of an eye for him, while the world outside had kept spinning.

“Five years too long,” she whispered, her throat tightening as she met his gaze. “I tried everything, James. Spells, potions, every piece of magic I could find. I turned the whole kingdom upside down—except for this.” She gave a soft, incredulous laugh, her fingers brushing against his. “I didn’t even know true love’s kiss was real.”

James’ eyes softened, his hand still resting gently on her cheek. “Can I have another?” he asked, his voice low and warm. “I dreamed of you kissing me for five years.”

Lily’s breath caught, her eyes widening. “You dreamed of me?” she whispered, barely able to comprehend it.

He nodded, pressing his forehead to hers, the intimacy of the gesture sending shivers down her spine. “Every moment. Every second. I would’ve dreamed about you for eternity if that’s what it took to be with you again.”

Her heart swelled, the sheer depth of his words unraveling the knot of pain she’d carried for so long. Without another thought, she kissed him, her fingers threading through his messy black hair as she pulled him closer. And this time, it wasn’t just an experiment, or a test of some ancient magic. It was a kiss full of years of longing, of love unspoken but always there, burning beneath the surface.

James responded with a fervor that made her knees weak, his hands sliding up her back as if he needed to feel every inch of her, to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. The kiss was slow and deep, a promise of everything they had lost and everything they still had left to gain.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Lily couldn’t help but smile—a smile so wide and bright it made her cheeks ache. She rested her forehead against his again, her voice a whisper, but steady. “I love you,” she confessed, the words finally spilling free after years of being buried beneath fear and uncertainty. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

James’ eyes shone with something deeper than his usual teasing mischief. His grin softened, and he reached for her hand, twining their fingers together. “Well,” he said, his voice full of warmth and that familiar spark of adventure, “I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Lily laughed, the sound light and free in a way it hadn’t been in years. “Oh, you have no idea,” she teased, but her heart felt whole again for the first time in so long.

They sat there, in the stillness of the tower room. Time, for once, seemed to slow down, allowing them this moment, this reunion. No curse, no villain, would ever keep them apart again. She'd found the way to save them. 

[ascendanttarot]

PAC: Channelling Your Present Energy

Hi, guys! This will be a PAC on your energy as of right now. I'll be channelling using tarot and automatic writing. I tried to make this reading as clear as I could, but all the messages I got were more sensory feelings than outright words/phrases. I hope you find this reading useful to you regardless. :)

I will not be listing any signs before the reading as I do with my other longer PACs. I suggest really going with your gut here, and if the message immediately doesn’t feel right, I recommend picking a different pile.

Please remember your fate is not set in stone so your answers may change depending on the actions you take and will take if you please. Tarot is not a substitute for professional advice. The images I’ve used are not mine.

From left to right, Pile 1, 2 & 3.

Pile 1

Your Cards: The Magician rx, The Ace of Cups

Your Reading: Before we start Pile 1, I want to say that I actually had difficulty tapping into your energy. When I closed my eyes to channel instead, I smelled rain, but I couldn’t feel the rain on my skin as if to say you’ve cried all the tears you had left. I saw a fog, but I couldn’t see anything beyond that. When I tried pulling your cards again, the exact same cards (even the reversal stayed the same) from last time came out while I was shuffling, so that shows a level of certainty despite the confusion.

Your present energy feels like quiet hope, like a calm after the storm, not before it. Your present energy feels misty. Going back to the storm analogy, it feels like there was a storm in the middle of summer, and the rain poured down while you were outside, and you kept anticipating a lightning bolt to strike you down because you felt your hair stand up without your volition but it never came.

I think you’re starting to regain a bit of optimism in your life, but you aren’t letting it show because you’re scared you’ll jinx yourself. I think you’ve been manifesting something specific in your life too, but you haven’t told anyone because of self-doubt and fear of people undermining your ambition. It’s an ‘I’m not happy now but I could be’ energy. I could see golden threads around your aura connecting you to your manifestation, and your soul tugs on it from time to time. You may not see that happening but whenever you get a surge of motivation to work on your goals, this is your higher self pulling this golden string towards you just a little bit closer.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 1!

Pile 2

Your Cards: The Tower, Justice rx (clarified by The Star)

Your Reading: The first thing I saw when I channelled your energy was this Katniss Everdeen-type character. I know this message is odd, but I genuinely saw this blank character in the woods fighting for their life, and they’re whistling to try to get someone’s attention but the only reply was an echo of your previous whistle. You’re alone. I can physically feel leather armour digging into my skin like I haven’t taken it off for days.

Okay onto the reading. We can’t ignore the fact that you got all major arcana cards. Even the extra card that jumped out to clarify Justice was The Star. That speaks huge volumes about what your energy is like right now.

Pile 2, do you have a fear of being judged? Does this fear come from past experiences when you felt people didn’t listen to you correctly? Because your energy also feels like listening to the news using an old radio, but you just can’t seem to fix the signal. You tried walking around the house and moving the antenna only to make the audio quality sound worse.

Your energy screams potential. Why do you think people tried to put you down? There’s a strong message here that you don’t have to dim your light because you’re scared of blinding the neighbourhood. Of course you’ll overgrow your ‘house’—your ‘home’ was always meant to be something bigger. Don’t let anyone stop you from building that.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 2!

Pile 3

Your Cards: 7 of Pentacles, The Emperor

Your Reading: Okay, stay with me here, but your energy feels like a crocheted gift. Interwoven between the yarn is this bright yet earthy energy of hard work and time. In fact, it feels like time acts differently around your energy.

Some people view time in two categories: time spent and time lost. You, on the other hand, don’t go against time but are working with it like you’re one and the same. This energy feels like hyper-focusing on a task until you go through everything with a fine-tooth comb to perfection, and there’s a calendar in front of you but it switches between languages every second until the years look like glitched-out glyphs.

It’s like you’ve got this celestial energy no one can seem to pin down. It's weird because people think you’re lucky, but they underestimate you at the same time. And guess what? They’re wrong on both accounts.

I mean, c'mon, you literally got The Emperor! I think the people who see you working hard don’t see a point in what you’re doing. Like, if we’re going back to the crochet analogy, they may think you’re wasting your time crocheting a scarf when you could just buy it. What they don’t realise is that this skill will lead to a successful business in the future, or maybe you’ll discover a new technique after a few months that will give you the recognition you deserve. The people who think you’re lucky will think you rose to the top out of nowhere and that you haven't actually earned your status.

There’s a message to not listen to them. They only know as much as they have lived. They don’t know how much work you’ve put in to be able to get to where you are and where you will be.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 3!

[tinytalkingtina]

WIP Weekend

It's been a few months since I've done one of these. With the couple spicy events I was participating in concluding, time to come back to WIPs that have been giving me some trouble. Would love a distraction right now, so let's go! Updates

So about that sixth and final chapter of Soaring Symphony...yeah I haven't touched it in a hot minute whoops. I have a general idea of how I want it to go but haven't been able to motivate myself to do it. Hoping to finally get over the hump and start writing it again this weekend

Juggling two different fics set in the Running with the Devil role reversal track star!Eddie and metalhead!Steve universe: -The first is a 4+1 showing how Eddie rose in popularity over time, from the summer before high school to another party his senior year (and is kind of turning into a study on his friendship with Tommy and Carol, having fun with little-annie figuring out where everyone's heads are at during this timeline). -The second picks up right where the first one left off, with Eddie at his wit's end knocking on Steve's door after failing to outrun his gay thoughts.

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll send you 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP!

🐲 Witch and Dragon Steddie Chapter 6

🏃Role reversal 4+1 aka track star eddie character study

👟Role reversal fic "Can We Talk"

Enjoy a snippet from "Can We Talk" below:

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie asked, unsure of what exactly he was doing on Steve's doorstep. With a nod, Steve let him in. Driving over, Eddie had half-convinced himself the person opening the door would be the towering mocking figure from his dreams. But the Steve who answered his knocks wasn’t wearing his boots; he stared sleepily at Eddie without the need to look down. Stripped of his usual layered outfit and accessories, he looked…vulnerable. Softer maybe, younger too. “I don’t usually deal at home, but I don’t need any neighbors sticking their fucking nose in my business and calling the cops this time of night,” he said, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. Eddie fought the urge to push down the cowlicks as Steve continued to mutter about rude neighbors.

“I’m…not here 'cause of weed.” His nerves finally gave out and he glanced downwards. That was a mistake, because his eyes landed on Steve’s completely bare hands. Oh G-d, he had tan lines on his fingers. Lines that had Eddie swooning like some heroine in those paperback romances Carol was always reading. He needed to stop staring it had been too long, Steve would notice. Maybe if he’d gotten something remotely close to a good night’s sleep anytime in the past month, Eddie might have stopped himself. But as he stared at those fingers, he felt the last threads of his self-control fray and finally snap. He grabbed onto Steve’s wrist and held on for dear life. “Woah, uh Munson, you okay there?” Steve didn’t pull away. “I—just…” He wasn’t letting go. Why wasn’t he letting go? “Eddie?” Steve knelt down, staring up at Eddie with sincere concern. Not a sneer anywhere to be found. Oh G-d, he looked— “Don’t punch me, please.” Eddie whispered. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed Steve’s face and smashed their lips together. The taste of cigarettes and mint flooded his mouth. And for one blissful moment, his mind went completely silent.

No pressure tagging a few people to play too! (And if you see this and didn't get tagged by all means feel free to play too, happy to tag folks in the future :D) @little-annie @runninriot @augustjustice @solarmorrigan @dreamwatch @hairstevington @vthx

[bwoahtastic]

So obsessed with minotaur max he's just the cutest little thing! The group staying with Lewis as he tries to work out how to reverse the curse, and max spends all of his time outside. He's so enthralled by all of the new sounds and smells and Charles takes so much pleasure in introducing him to new foods and animals. Max is thrilled when he sees cows for the first time and can understand them, the one with the white splodge on his nose doesn't like Pierre for some reason but it makes Max laugh so hard. Charles and Pierre teach him new games and read him new stories and max especially loves when Charles sings him songs. He spends time with his momma Nico of course, but Nico wants him to have friends and loves watching him with Charles and Pierre.

And in the meantime Nico and Lewis fall back into their old roles. Nico knows how Lewis gets when he's working on a complicated magic problem, and it's easy for him to take over the organisation of the tower and making sure Lewis remembers to eat and drink. He even has time to weave some fabric for a chair that Lewis has been meaning to get upholstered, and maybe that's what finally gives Lewis the idea that works.

The spell is too complicated for Lewis to be able to simply remove it, but he can enchant the threads that Nico then weaves into fabric for clothes for max and when he wears it, the curse has no effect (or maybe just a little one because the ears and horns are so cute)

Plss Max being so happy being free and staying at the tower! He gets to br outside and Charles will take walks with him while holding his hand, showing him plants and animals and Max gets the giggles seeing the cows and hearing one of them doesn't like Pierre! Pierre meanwhile will go around villages to get foods that Max has not tried before and they figure out what Max likes (Also Max being vegetarian? He doesn't want to eat meat!) And the three are just causing chaos around the tower but nico and lewis quite enjoy watching them ksks. There is so many games they play and Charles will sing for Max during the night because Max is prone to nightmares and it's max's favorite time!

Nico ofcourse spending a lot oftime with Max too, cuddling his not so small baby and stroking his horns as Max noses closer and Nico tells him about his family who all wanted to meet Max so bad but never had the chance, and when it is safe, they can go meet Max's grandparents! (Momma's side only ofc). Also Nico reassuring Max thst he is perfect as is, and if they can't break the curse or Max doesn't want it to be broken, he is still equally loved!

Nico also helping Lewis, organising the tower and making sure Lewis eats and rests cos he knows how he gets when he has a problem to solve! And pls them ending up working together to enchant fabric Nico is weaving so it will break the curse while Max is wearing it! It's a strong curse so the lilears and horns don't go away, but Nico gets to see his baby's face

[siunytoons]

guys guys guy

(reblogs r appreciated btw)

What if the life series went backwards

Enter secret life:

tame, people just milling about, doing tasks and stuff, making friends (except scar). The watcher, the secret keeper is the surrounding aspect. The closest the watchers have EVER been to the players.

People start dying, starting with a girl with no allies and a pumpkin themed house. Falling into the endless void. She can't share her secrets there.

Alliances stay steady. People begin killing each other, until only 4 remain. Two out of three of a band with no songs, one who lost everyone, and one who had nobody until the end.

Scott, inherently loyal, thinks "gem deserves this win more than I do" and sacrifices himself.

The two defeat the final band member, a note of melancholy in the air as they stare each other down. How could they betray each other?

Pearl, having lost her alliance, her mounders

Scar, who never had anyone

Both finding kinship in their loneliness

Pearl falls, scar wins

The villainy he was forced to commit means nothing now. What's the point of being victor with nobody else to celebrate

The clock strikes twelve, and suddenly

Tick tock

Everyone wakes up with a clock in their heart and only enough hours to get them through a day.

Scar remembers. Of course he does. How could he forget the secret he kept? How could he forget that it got him nothing?

He joins a family, their namesake becoming the very thing that ticks, every second inching towards their doom. The clockers.

Scott, who sacrificed himself, has a vague feeling in his heart. A feeling that maybe something came before this, before this endless tick tock.

Martyn comes along, they band together. Become the 'mean gills'. Martyn, who tried to kill him. But Scott is ever forgiving, isn't he. Always kind. Perhaps that's why the watchers do not like him. How could he have sacrificed himself previously? It makes no sense, this was a death game! He didn't follor the rules of red.

Strange how martyn and Scott teamed up, the one who was all bark and bite in a previous life, and the one who's final act was one of loyalty.

TNT falls from the sky, raining down like almighty retribution. Alliances are strong, and yet so subject to change.

Kaboom

And then there were three.

Impulse, the band member who perished before he could help his friends.

Scott, the fourth placer, who sacrificed it all for another

Martyn, a man plagued by visions of watchers. Whispering in his ears. Telling him secrets.

Scott calls for sentimentality

Martyn has another idea

And then

Tick tock

And then there was one

The tug of a string, hearts tied together.

Soulmates

People begin searching immediately. Searching for the one they've been bound to by the threads of the universe.

They all find each other.

"but why didn't pearl stop taking damage?"

Scott wondered. Why should he be with someone so careless? He would be vulnerable! And she had no regard for his own safety when she paraded around the server. She didn't even look for him!

Scott ran off with martyns soulmate. Perhaps there was some lingering resentment towards the man. Lingering from what? Scott didn't know.

Pearl was lonely. Pearl was so, so lonely. Ostracized by her soulmate, and the rest of the server, she became the 'scarlet pearl'. A witch who lived in a tall tower, torturing her soulmate who had cut ties with her all but literally (the string of fate still wrapped around them, their health symmetrical).

Pearl finds some solace in Scar, who's soulmate, a strange bird man named grian (who always introduced the games. Why was he always doing that?) ,was cheating on him with another. Two lonely people.

One with an alliance that fell apart.

And one with nothing at all

Strange how the roles had reversed since a previous season.

Scar still remembered.

The ranchers were out first, it seemed that after Lizzie died that first season, a canary named Jim took the brunt of death's grasp. He was out twice in a row first! In double life too. That's got to mean something, right?

Chaos followed that. People dying left and right, pairs of them.

And then there were four.

Cleo, a zombie who's soulmate wasn't her favourite man.

Scott, a man who felt uncared for by his soulmate, and cast her out, condemning her to loneliness

Martyn, a man who remembered his previous life, who messed things up with his soulmate after being the cause of her first death

Pearl, a lonely, slightly crazy woman who's only friends were wolves. They were her soulmates, she said.

Pearl was ruthless, killing martyn and Cleo with her army.

Scott was heartbroken. His soulmate, his true soulmate, Cleo, had died to the hands of his literal one.

Heartbroken, disguising his squalor with a self sacrifice, lit the TNT below him

2nd place again. In double life. How funny was that.

Pearl only saw the tnt until it was too late.

"tilly death do us part" and ode to Pearl's first wolf

Kaboom

Pearl awoke. She remembered everything. She remembered scott, how he'd sacrificed a win. For her. Maybe, she thought, maybe he still cared for her back in a previous life.

Maybe he could care for her in this one

They teamed up. Scott felt a connection to pearl, a melancholy one. It was as if she was literally tied to him by a string. Weird.

Scar followed another path of loneliness. Perhaps his family back in the land of ticking time was a fluke. Perhaps his was a face only a mother could love.

With 6 lives under his belt, and nobody to call a friend.

Martyn joined the southlanders, their name quite literal, having built their base in the south corner of the map. He was still plagued by the watchers voices, telling him what to do. They spoke in riddles. They spoke of Scott, a previous ally, of grian, his latest one.

Last Life was the bloodiest of them all. With so many lives to lose, people began treating them as a resource. Trading them around, destroying them.

A wither here, steady alliances crumbling to the ground. Blood, betrayal. Even greens and yellows weren't safe, having been inflicted with the curse of the Boogeyman.

And then there were 4. There always seemed to be. Limited Life was an exception. It always seemed to be.

Perhaps Scott knew in his heart that this had happened before. Perhaps he was tired of sacrificing himself for others. His closest ally was dead, and he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

And he finally won.

Only to be taken out by an otherworldly force

The same one that plagued martyn. The one that told him to kill, that told him to destroy. The one that spoke of Scott with venom, as if he had wronged them.

And then came third life.

Scar was prepared for another lonely season. Of course he was. It would be no different to anything else. He was cursed to remember all the games.

And then grian, the one who had stolen his first life in Last Life. His soulmate in double life. His (lame) gang member neighbor in limited. Grian, who ran the games, who always treated scar strangely.

He killed him on accident.

Swearing his loyalty, grian promised to be in scar's service until he lost his first life.

They went to the desert, and monopoly mountain was born.

Scott teamed up with the resident canary. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps it was love. He wasn't sure. But maybe Jim wouldn't be out so early.

Pearl wasn't there.

Martyn swore his undying loyalty to a king.

Scar died a second time. Grian did not.

And so grian served the first red life on the server

Scar and Grian quickly became the villains. A lifestyle scar was woefully familiar with. It reminded scar of his time during the first season. The one where he was dragged along by a statue into becoming the villain, only to win.

Death after death after death. Red winter. The desert blew up. grian blew up. The flower husbands died.

Soon enough, it was only Scar, Grian, and Bdubs left.

Bdubs had killed someone for a clock. Perhaps it was for old times sake. Something about bdubs holding a clock reminded him of the bdubs he once shared a brothership with. Perhaps that's why he killed grian, knowing he wouldn't be fast enough to grab the 'no kill slip'.

He murdered bdubs soon after. Brothers by everything but blood. Blood that now stained the sword he held.

Grian was livid. All that time serving scar, and for what? To get murdered by him over a piece of paper?

"you may slay me and take the enchanter"

But he couldn't. He couldn't just do that.

The two walked to the desert.

A ring of cactus.

Scar was tired. He had won once before

He pulled his punches, bumped into the cacti on purpose.

And in the end, covered in poppies and lilacs. Just like the beginning.

Grian wept.

Scar smiled. He died smiling. He died knowing that grian would win.

The desert winds whipped at grian's face as he buried scar. The poppies and lilacs at his grave, a testament to his partner.

The desert winds that accompanied him on his fall down monopoly mountain.

And thus the cycle begins.

[flumphmatingritualsexpert]

Just putting a giant thread of BG3 (but mostly Gale) tarot cards in here and then people can add to it bc I have a big list compiled. PART II Other part(s) linked at the bottom

Link to PART I

[butterflydm]

wot deeper dive 2x3: what might be

And here is my more in-depth look at the third episode, avoiding any book-related spoilers.

So the framing device for this episode is Nynaeve's testing for being Accepted -- we start when the testing starts and end when the testing finally ends for truth. This isn't the episode that takes place over the least amount of time, but it does take place over a short period of time -- Nynaeve goes in at night, the day passes while everyone (except Egwene) believes that she's dead, and then she exits the next night.

2. It cracks me up that Liandrin makes a point of mentioning that women could create ter'angreal before the Breaking. Because, yeah, Liandrin wouldn't admit in a thousand years that men might be able to do something useful (also: Liandrin hating 'men' but loving her son is actually a great example of the hypocritical nature of that kind of mindset in general; her son gets to exist outside the greater circle 'ugh men' because he is her son and special to her). I love us getting a bit of an explanation for ter'angreal, but Liandrin does crack me up. And the show does make a point of telling us that the Aes Sedai don't understand a lot about how the ter'angreal work, which sets us up for them being wrong that it's only possible for 'the way back' to come once.

3. Hmm, the White Tower waits for women to come to us (mentioned in the last episode) and we also put women out of the Tower if they can only make it through one part of the test and might need time before they face another part... I wonder why the Tower is getting emptier and emptier by the year. It's a mystery! But I do like all this exposition and it feels like it's well-placed, because Nynaeve genuinely needs the explanation. I wonder if Leane gets to be one of the people administering the test because she refused her first time, so having her there to honestly tell students that is meant to give them permission to decide they need a bit more time.

4. All of Nynaeve's tests made me cry and it definitely was starting early. Her scenes with her parents, and having to experience their deaths again was so painful! They did such a good job making her look younger/in the body of her younger self -- with her unbound hair and the style of her dress.

5. We have, here in the first test, Nynaeve bringing back crimsonthorn, which is reflecting another of Nynaeve's fears, which persists in all three tests -- her fear of being like Liandrin. "Red is dead" but a diluted version of crimsonthorn soothes pain rather than bringing death. But not all pain. It needs to be used for the right pain, we learned in the last episode. And the Red Ajah is essentially a hammer that is always looking for nails. The use of crimsonthorn in this episode feels like a mediation on moderation and picking the right tool for the job. Part of Nynaeve is sympathetic to the Red Ajah's causes in theory (being a watcher over abuses of the Power) but she is not a fan of their tactics in practice (she doesn't believe men who can channel are evil). But Nynaeve specifically having her father (a man) be the one who washes the crimsonthorn from her hands feels very pointed. "Red is dead" is something that Nynaeve is telling herself.

6. The Two Rivers continues to be a place of reversed gender roles to many traditional depictions -- Nynaeve's father is a nurturer and the one she's gotten her skill at herbalism from*, while her mother acts as the main protector of the family, using a bow against the attackers. The thread of allowing men to be caretakers is continuing strong in s2, with Rand working in the sanitarium and taking care of Errol and us seeing Nynaeve's father as the nurturing figure here.

(*though I will note that this is a key aspect of several male characters in one of the big OG western fantasy novels: LOTR, where Aragon is a nurturer/healer as well as a warrior, and we also have the hobbits, especially Sam.)

The fathers-and-daughters theme also continues strong. We have a lot of fathers and daughters so far in the series, and fathers wanting the world to be better for their daughters, specifically. Those themes are not exclusive to fathers and daughters, of course (Ila wanted a better world for her daughter) but we are getting a lot of focus on fathers and daughters and, specifically, on allowing men to be soft with their daughters and nurturing figures for them.

7. This is them continuing a story that Nynaeve originally told us in s1, so I wonder if we'll continue to learn more about it in the future -- will we ever find out who attacked the Two Rivers during this time and what their motives were? They don't look like they're wearing any kind of emblems, which makes me lean towards bandits of some kind.

8. Oof, but rewatching this made me cry again. Having to leave the people she loves behind (but they're already dead, my darling). Nynaeve trying to work out exactly how real everything was in that place. And getting 'idk?' in response from the Aes Sedai.

9. Both of the parental figures that she faces in the second test are parents of the children she believes that she's failed to protect (Rand is dead and Mat is 'who knows where') and now she can't even stay to give Tam the comfort of dying with a friendly face by his bedside. Again, heartbreaking! Again, we have the thread of the crimsonthorn, being used here to bring a peaceful death to those that can't be healed... except that Nynaeve knows that they could be healed, if only she knew how to do it. Her block makes her unable to help those she cares about. She failed Rand and now she's failed Tam too. "I may not be a Wisdom, but I'm the one who stayed," Natti says. And this also tugs on the thread that Nynaeve herself felt back in the first episode -- that Tar Valon has no interest in helping the Two Rivers or people from the Two Rivers (the story of the old Wisdom).

"This isn't your home anymore." Ouch.

10. Nynaeve copying the motions of the healing weave but not able to embrace the Power to actually use it: heartbreaking. And then lying to Tam about Rand, because she can't face the idea of telling his father that Rand is dead. And then she has to walk away from him, even as he's pleading for her to stay with him as he dies! Again, tears!

11. I love that the different jars that they use for the ritual -- one white, one black, one both -- I wonder if they remember why that would be the case or if they keep doing it because it's traditional.

12. I enjoyed the trick they played on us (it's implied that Nynaeve's third test is about her becoming Red Ajah and that leading to her killing Lan somehow) and the way she walks out on the White Tower. Our first hint that this isn't real is that there's no Elayne hovering around Egwene in Nynaeve's goodbye scene (Elayne is clearly bonding hard with Egwene and definitely would have wanted to go with her to talk to Nynaeve; she's already shown interest in meeting Nynaeve) because Nynaeve doesn't know about her! But I didn't twig to it until Lan showed up and then didn't tell her Rand was alive and instead was just like "oh yeah I can go with you to the Two Rivers". If Lan is disconnected enough from Moiraine to walk away from his duty and go with Nynaeve back to the Two Rivers, then he's disconnected enough to tell her that Rand is alive, even if he knows Moiraine might not want him to tell. But Lan can't tell her that Rand's alive! Fictional Lan doesn't know! He doesn't tell her any of the new info that Lan should be able to tell her now.

13. That being said, Nynaeve's AU version of her reunion with Lan is very sweet! And I was glad to get it even if it was very much not real.

14. The Sisters believing that Nynaeve is dead also was something that worked really well for me because it gives us so much interesting character information and motivation. This is what leads to Liandrin deciding to 'free' Mat and send him on his way with Min! It's what leads to her confrontation with Egwene! Also: Leane's disdainful look at Liandrin as she turns and walks out. Judging Liandrin hard for pushing for Nynaeve to go through the arches so quickly. And then Sheriam expressing her disappointment verbally. "I hope your conscience never lets you find peace with that. I know mine won't." And Liandrin looks close to tears here, as well (and then expresses her pain through anger, once again, by throwing the jug).

15. Ooof, Seanchan time. This is so hard to watch. The show did such a good job making them feel alien and different to the rest of the people of the show. Even Loial has never heard of them! And the helmets make them look like they are grinning (way too widely) all the time. Just seeing how clearly formalized and ritualized everything is.

That spike at the bottom of Suroth's palanquin. Yikes on bikes.

16. I am going to note that the two women who channeled the previous night are NOT the one who points out the other women who then get dragged away (unless my eyes deceive me). They specifically have a third woman who comes out and does that, which implies specializations to me.

17. The music cue for the Seanchan is so effectively creepy. And now it is time for our Cheerful Customer Service Representative to share the Good News that it is time to Update Your Oaths. That she says everything in such a pleasant way really makes the horror of everything that's happening stand out. The Shadow, before now, has operated under darkness, but this horror is happening in the broad daylight and with the attitude of complete certainty in their own rightness, despite the clear brutality on display. It works similarly to how the horror in Midsommar works, for anyone else who may have seen that movie. Brutality in broad daylight, committed by people who are convinced that they have the One Truth and that it's an honor to kill to uphold that truth.

18. It does seem pretty clear that Uno was picked out because he was noticed by one of the soldiers as behaving defiantly -- having a clear example of what happens to someone who refuses to take the oaths is probably seen as extremely useful in getting everyone else to agree. But, yeah, another scene that is difficult to watch, for sure! Suroth's smile after Uno is killed is so effectively creepy and awful.

And now Perrin & co have officially taken the oaths. I do not expect Perrin to feel at all obliged to keep his oaths but it may be useful for him that he's aware of the wording, so he can perhaps do some sneaky scouting in the future.

19. The Man's eyes are on Perrin pretty much the entire time. But, yeah, #PerrinWillNotForgetThis

20. Love Rand's scene with Logain here. Rand is trying to build up some trust with Logain before he broaches the subject of channeling but Logain already knows the score and wants them to skip to the ending, lol. Logain is aware that Rand can channel and channel strongly, so he doesn't want to waste any time on pleasantries. I also love Logain yanking Rand around and giving him a sidequest, lol.

21. We get a reminder here of how much Rand doesn't know: pretty much everyone else has more knowledge than he does right now. He doesn't know that the Dark One wasn't defeated at the Eye; he doesn't know even of the Horn of Valere's existence, let alone that Perrin is on the hunt for it (even Mat knows about that, due to Perrin's letters).

22. So Rand finds out about the queen's promise here ("half her fortune" to the one who finds the Horn and brings it to Cairhien) and then learns in the party scene coming up next that this was a dirty lie being used to get people to leave Foregate and go off somewhere, anywhere else. His time in Cairhien is Rand's first experience of class differences and the nobles are not coming off well to him at all.

23. It's pretty clear here that Rand is keeping all his 'searching out knowledge about channeling' activities a secret from Selene, which makes a lot of sense. He probably assumes that the second she finds out, she won't want to come near him. She does seem pretty happy about the idea of getting to dress Rand up in some fancier clothes.

24. Haha, I love that Elayne has no ill effects from their night of drinking together. Another little hint about her past. Her banter with Egwene is pretty adorable (before the angst comes in for Egwene when she finds out that the Sisters all believe that Nynaeve is dead).

re: fake deaths -- they really only annoy me if they're primarily for the audience. I don't mind if they're being used to push story/character forward. Here, we're shown Egwene's refusal to believe that Nynaeve could be dead vs Elayne's greater knowledge of how ter'angreal are believed to work and Tower knowledge and tradition.

25. I love that Egwene snaps at Elayne to leave here -- it's such a pure emotional reaction due to her intense grief. She's already believed Nynaeve to be lost once; she believes that Rand is gone; and now she's losing Nynaeve 'again'. It's too much and she doesn't know Elayne well enough to let her in emotionally right now.

Also, "Ny"! That's so cute.

26. Sheriam sucks at grief counseling. Egwene's friend is dead and all Sheriam can tell her is "don't burden me with your grief; grow as a person from this".

So... I wonder if Sheriam sent Nynaeve's things off to the Two Rivers this day, and all Nynaeve's stuff is already on its way by the time she comes back.

27. In addition to everything else about this scene with Liandrin and Mat, it tells us that she's able to sneak in without waking him up. I doubt that it's the first time she's done it. Also, I note that Liandrin does not tell him that Nynaeve is the one who died.

Of course, we know from the ending conversation with Min that this is not actually Liandrin 'letting him go' but her setting him up to leave with a spy in tow.

She is really really good at cutting into people with her words. Mat escaped one abusive older woman (his mom) and ended up trapped with a second one. This really was such a worst case scenario for him, in terms of grinding his feelings of failure and not being good enough into him.

28. Liandrin tries to pull her same tricks with Egwene that she did with Mat, trying to cut into her insecurities and made her feel lesser. But Egwene has not spent the past five months being forced to listen to Liandrin stomp on her as a person over and over, so when Liandrin pushes her, she pushes back.

29. Party scene! Selene has gotten Rand a coat and slipped the two of them into a fancy noble party -- she's out there trying to set up connections for Rand but he is focused on the mission. He gets a warning from another lady at the party that whether he replies yes or no to the invitation that he just received, it will be a subject of gossip, so he burns the letter (only to learn that this, too, is going to cause tons of gossip). The lady Anvaere then lets Rand know that she's figured out that he's likely staying in the Foregate and implies that she may or may not believe that he's an outlander lord. She lets him peek behind the curtain of nobility by telling him the truth about the Hunt for the Horn - that the queen doesn't care about it at all, just about getting some of the peasants to leave. We now get some of the history of the Aiel War from the nobles' side (after hearing a bit from the soldiers' side in the last episode) -- after the war, the farmers who had been devastated by the invasion sought shelter and protection nearer to the city and this has been an inconvenience for the nobles.

30. At this point, Selene returns with Rand's quest item but is disappointed when he immediately wants to leave the party without explaining why he wanted the wine and is offended when he asks her why she's helping him, after she shows herself to already understands that the Hunt for the Horn is just a political cover to push out the poorer residents of the city. In terms of costume design, they've really made it so that Rand is the only one standing out -- even Selene is dressed in the paler pastels that we see the rest of the nobles wearing. Rand is the only one I see in bold colors.

31. Rand returning so quickly with his Quest Item for Logain reveals his desperation to Logain. This conversation is... so incredibly queer-coded (which, tbh, male channelers in the books often came across that way too!). Rand has been suppressing something deep inside himself for so long but it just won't go away. It's an innate part of him and the more he tries to tamp it down, the more it builds up and demands to be seen. The metaphor of the overflowing wine glass was also fantastic.

"the answer to the question you already knew" (you can't make this part of yourself go away; "eventually, it will spill out of you. always.")

And Selene, at the party, "don't ask questions when you already know the answer"

We saw last season that Rand was really really good at ignoring things that he doesn't want to admit about himself -- he carries the secret about Tam's conversation with him all season! He manages to convince himself that Mat is probably the Dragon, until Moiraine reveals that it's the dagger that is influencing Mat. Part of him knew the true answer for a long time, but he wasn't willing to admit it to himself.

But it's not the answer that Rand wants to hear. And Logain losing it here gives Rand a convenient reason to dismiss everything else that he said.

32. So heartbreaking for Mat to watch Egwene crying and not feeling like he can go to her! I understand why -- Liandrin did a very good job of letting him know, over and over (a dozen letters!), that his friends do not care about him and would not want to see him again. So I understand. But it's painful to watch him turn and walk away from her. He almost does go to her! He hesitates! But he can't quite do it (which is only going to make him feel even more like a coward).

33. Min was just sitting and waiting for Mat to ask her to join him, wasn't she? I wonder if she was starting to worry that he would leave without her. She must be relieved that he came back for her.

34. Perrin's escape from Seanchan captivity (I notice that he's chained up, maybe because he was the last one to kneel?), but not before he gets a visit from our neighborhood Known Bad Guy. This scene is also very good and very intense, though I want to shake Perrin slightly and remind him that if the Bad Guy tells you something, he's probably trying to trick you! If he says that the wolf brings you closer to him, it's probably a lie! Do not trust this man! I am glad that Our Guy continues to bring intense homoeroticism to every scene he shares with one of our male ta'veren (let me cup your face and feed you water! let me stare intently into your eyes and talk about how you're mine!). Now we just need Mat to complete the set!

35. "You're dead! Rand killed you!" and now Perrin is the first of our ta'veren to find out that the world did not get saved back in 1x8. Doesn't have much opportunity to tell the others, sadly. He doesn't find out that Rand is alive, though.

36. Very emotional about Elyas and the wolves coming to save Perrin. That's their boy! They love him! Please don't be afraid of them, Perrin!

37. Mat and Min continue to have great banter. "Freedom is in the air tonight". And now we get our reveal that Min is working with Liandrin. I like that this feels like a consequence of Moiraine's actions from last season. Because being free of Moiraine, specifically, is part of the carrot that Liandrin is using with Min here. "If you succeed, Moiraine won't have anything over either of us ever again."

Okay, and Liandrin is asking Min to take Mat someplace specific because she checks, "You know the way?" and Min confirms it. So Liandrin does have a destination in mind. Min also does seem subdued in this scene with Liandrin, so I don't think she's eager to take Mat wherever they're going.

38. Rand has a dream about returning back to his room where Selene is waiting, and the two of them have sex (with him back in his fancy coat), and him channeling around her while she tells him that she's not afraid of him (but he looks pretty uncomfortable/scared/worried once the channeling begins). When he wakes up, he realizes that he's set the roof of the inn on fire, and Selene is at his door, and the two of them rush to safety and watch it burn. Oof, that had to be tough for Rand. Poor guy. *hugs*

39. Egwene trying to channel the arches back open again. Sweetheart! I love her so much for trying, and I love Elayne for coming to try to help her through her grief.

40. And now we jump back into Nynaeve's dream life -- she's back in the Two Rivers. She has a daughter with Lan, who is relaxed and comfortable. Perrin is back home, happy, and Mat has found a life elsewhere but is happy as well and visits when he can. Egwene has successfully become Aes Sedai. It's as happy as she can possibly make it, given the constraints that she started with (Rand being dead, especially, but also knowing that Egwene would want to stay and become Aes Sedai).

But they told us at the beginning that this was about Nynaeve facing her fears, and Egwene's letter brings the first hints of trouble as we hear of Trolloc attacks in Saldaea. And her dream world shatters apart as Trollocs attack the Two Rivers once again, just as her life shattered apart when they attacked the first time. I love the bookend of how she tries to protect her daughter the same way that she was once protected by her parents. This whole sequences really hit me hard, especially when she's still cradling her (no longer existing) daughter as she comes back through the arches. I'm really glad that Egwene was there for her when she arrived (and what an introduction for Elayne!) Again, it was so heartbreaking. The little girl wasn't real, but Nynaeve loved her like she was real.

41. I didn't notice on the night this first aired (probably because so much was happening in all three episodes) but this episode does not have Moiraine or Actual Lan in it at all. So they're still on the thread that we left them on in episode two, where Moiraine has left without Lan (and threatened him with having Alanna forcibly bond him to make sure he would let her go). So the question we have for episode four is: do we get a Lan x Nynaeve actual reunion at the White Tower or is Lan going to go after Moiraine as soon as Alanna's back is turned? We know that he stole the poem that she bought from Doman. I am intrigued to learn the answers in ep4.

[trouticecream]

Intermission: Old Wounds Reawakened 1/2

It had only been for a little bit.  Just a tiny glimpse–against the very bits of rationality and cold, clear-cut logic which had cemented his original decision on the matter–into the life of the one Gregory had once been in conflict with… –approximately a decade ago, if one is to view the timeline in a more linear manner; in exactly the way in which Ninten himself would have experienced it.  Safe within the rocky and somewhat ancient–it being the very first Psion base ever constructed on Earth post preliminary contact with the seemingly ordinary planet–confines of the Mt. Itoi base, the Psion himself had utilized its built-in surveillance system–capable of zeroing in on any temporal-spatial coordinates–to extract concrete visuals centered on Ninten.  His original intentions had only been to capture a brief ‘check-in’, but like anything else of such a nature… like any other ‘slippage’... it never remains at one neat point, but rather unravels like an unwieldy thread down a labyrinth-like ravine, never to be reclaimed again.

What had started as a mere ‘peek’ had quickly evolved into something far more extensive; a task that certainly tests (if not outright transcends) what humans ordinarily regard as an ethical boundary.  Visuals which he had tirelessly followed over the course of several days, subsequently pushing back his own schedule and sending away the Starman Super which now stood by his side in his overarching quest here on Earth, in order to collect a sufficient enough degree of data on the human’s current life to (perhaps a touch selfishly) assuage his own (increasingly weighty, oddly enough, despite the lack of tangibility to it) concerns over whether or not he had permanently bestowed undue ruination upon Ninten’s life.  And according to his own observations of the human’s life thus far…

… nothing in particular seems to be amiss.

By the arbitrary definition of what it means to be ‘okay’... by the most commonly-recognized standards of humanity… Ninten seems to be okay.  Changed, but otherwise ‘okay’.  The first thing the Psion had ever noted about him is that the human boy had undergone striking physical changes, as is customary for the progression from a child and to a fully-baked human-being.  Ninten is no longer the diminutive human he had once towered over in his own full–and thus truest–adult form, but now the one who would certainly tower over the Psion himself now, stuck as he currently is at a height of 2”3;  a complete reversal of their positions when the two originally met, for the first and final time.  The form of a child–aptly referred to as the “child phase” among Psions–and though Gregory himself would like to claim otherwise… a pervasive lapse in his perceived age from before.  No matter how much knowledge he has or how many experiences–be it a collection of clear memories or vague impressions, filling the prevalent holes in-between–he has, the “adult phase” no longer seems suitable either.  Perhaps it had never been suitable from the very beginning.  Perhaps he had never been a ‘proper’ adult, but merely projected a facsimile of it and now, he had been resynchronized to what he had always truly been the whole time.  Just as the human boy had gradually grown up to the form of an adult to better match the many more experiences, knowledge, and maturity he had likely acquired since the confrontation at the summit of Mt. Itoi.

But then… that is only natural for humans is it not?

It is only natural for them to change, evolve, and grow in not just physical but in ways that far transcend mere physicality; their very flesh casings themselves.  One of the many ways in which humans prove to be surprisingly resilient, despite what shallow conclusions one may initially surmise from their comparatively fragile compositions.  A quality that, despite their renowned technological and psionic advancements, Gregory has personally found the Psion species to be lacking in.  The former is barely natural for Psions, requiring a special Magicant-oriented process to shift from the “child phase” and into the far more functional “adult phase”.  And the latter is almost unheard of.  

Change is not natural for Psions.

It is not natural to be anything, but the role that one is created to fulfill in society; nothing more and nothing less.

To undergo as many physical changes as Gregory himself has.

Child.  Then Adult.  Then a state beyond even adulthood; one so explosive and intense that it could not be contained by what Psions would define as an ‘adult’.  Then something not quite whole, but cognizant enough to pull whatever it could back together.  And now Child again, but with a kind of understanding and elevated perspective he never had the first time around.

To undergo as many non-physical changes as Gregory himself hopes to achieve, beyond the ones that have guided him beyond the confines of Psion society and into goals determined by himself.

A Psion that does not follow orders from anyone other than himself.

A Psion whose role is determined not by others, but by his own reflections.

A Psion that grows almost as the likes of humanity does.

As Ninten certainly has.

The physical changes were what was immediately evident, but though the base personality traits remain intact, the Psion himself could tell that there is a kind of acquired maturity and (surprising) level-headedness now; a sharp contrast to the brash, reckless, and hotheaded nature he had originally been acquainted with a ‘decade’ ago in chronology, thousands of years ago in his own total amount of time spent existing.  And fortunately, changed as the human boy might have been, the life that he leads seems to be ordinary.  Nothing short of what any other human might pursue were their interests to align precisely as Ninten’s have.  He engages with various sports on a regular basis.  He attends some kind of educational institution dedicated towards studies beyond that which something referred to as ‘high school’ entails with a focus on what appears to be fauna in a medical context.  He plays a particular ‘role’ in his society as a preparer of coffee in a cafe, albeit within very limited temporal constraints and in exchange for currency.  And he regularly maintains contact with the associates which had accompanied him at the summit of Mt. Itoi.

All constituents of that which many humans strive towards; a ‘normal’ and ‘happy’ life.  And relatively ‘normal’ and ‘happy’ Ninten seems.

It is… a ‘relief’ as humans would put it.

A miniscule bit of a kind of… –’heaviness’ proverbially lifted off his petite shoulders.  Not quite all of it, but at this juncture, that should not have mattered anyways because this is done.  Logically, Gregory should have logically left it at that.  Should have simply forgotten about this entire… detour altogether… and re-centralized his focus towards doing something that will actually help the Earth and its life-forms; not something that has already long since overstayed its ‘welcome’ or lack thereof.  And yet… against all the precise calculations and ice cold logic which had originally led him to decide against doing any of this to begin with… something… –irrational, compels him to pursue the matter beyond its originally limited scope.  More than merely conducting surveillance from within the safe confines of the Mt. Itoi base… the Psion somehow manages to convince himself to take this data collection a step further and observe Ninten a little more closely.

An in-person excursion rather than merely observing him from behind the filter of a screen, no matter how advanced.  Just to be extra-certain.  To conclude that without a reasonable doubt… Ninten’s life has not been ‘ruined’ by either invasion.

And nothing else.  Inexplicable as the sheer strength of such a pull is towards continuing on with this… there can be no other reason.  No other reason is acceptable.

And so, now the disguised alien–emulating a pale blonde human boy, no more than 5”2 in height, with dark blue eyes–lies in wait, deftly hidden behind an especially thick tree along a few others scattered about the general vicinity of the human’s residence in the town referred to as ‘Podunk’, dark blue voids fixed on the residence in question.  At this point, the Psion already has a good sense of what Ninten’s schedule should be.  What to expect.  And how to most efficiently gather further data in order to properly eradicate any lingering concerns so that he can finally put this matter aside and stop wasting time accordingly.  It will only be one day and nothing else–

…–his uncharacteristically distracted and haphazard thoughts abruptly get cut off with a sudden brush of physical contact in the form of a light yet somewhat firm application of pressure to a shoulder.  A mere poke punctuated by a “hey” whispered all too closely into his ear, but an action nonetheless so surprising–a novelty in and of itself with how rare it is to ‘sneak up’ on him like that–that Gregory immediately stiffens up, mouth flattening into a tense line, and he unconsciously projects a barrier of pale blue light from his own person and outwards.  A barrier which, as a result, ends up knocking back the mysterious ‘assailant’ and hard into the ground a more comfortable distance from the disguised Psion himself.  Gregory sharply turns, his hand slightly raised and dark blue voids narrowed with a mixture of irritation at having been startled and an analytical edge, ultimately intent on quickly assessing what action this change in situation warrants.  A state of agitation which almost immediately evaporates the moment he not only gets a proper look at the ‘assailant’ in question, but hears their voice through the air as they rub their side before wildly waving toned appendages before them in protest.

“OW!  Hey… HEY, take it easy kid will ya?!?  I didn’t mean any harm –I was just trying to mess with you a little, honest!”

Ninten.  Of course.  The height, athletic build, messy dark hair, brown eyes, voice, and tanned skin all match up.  But, even so, Gregory sharply stares for just a moment more before he puts his hand down and the barrier around him dissipates.  An action which elicits a sigh of relief from the human man, before he rather gingerly pulls himself back to his feet, half-heartedly dusting dirt from his red and blue striped hoodie adorned with an illustration of some sort of Earth creature–a ‘penguin’ he believes to be the correct term for such a thing–in its center and plain black gym shorts as he does so.  The disguised Psion, in the meantime, merely stares straight ahead without a blink, his mind utterly frayed and buzzing with a million different thoughts; utterly unprepared for an encounter of this sort, the rarity of being surprised aside.

He cannot parse out how to respond exactly.  How much he should bother with blaming himself for the transgression of any contact with the human at all.  How he had been caught by surprise at all… before ultimately determining that much of these thoughts don’t matter right now anyways.  He needs to say something… an ‘apology’ he thinks based on what all those books on causing accidental harm suggest… but before he can even manage to do that much, something oddly petty steamrolls through any semblance of ironclad restraint.  The disguised alien neatly crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, his tone taking on a kind of militant sharpness, tipped in just a bit of disapproval.

“Well.  Do not do it again.

Someone of your experience and developmental phase should know better than to do something like that.”

By the time the disguised Psion finishes speaking, Ninten has already regained his footing and recovered from the fall albeit a bit sore, and though he’s clearly the so-called ‘adult’ here, something about the primness–almost like being scolded or something–rubs him the wrong way; in a way that any other kid definitely wouldn't, as if somehow there’s something more complicated or deeper than the surface than it seems, in a way that’s just a touch familiar.  Yeah yeah maybe sneaking up on what, now, seems like an obvious PSI-user–beyond the more visible display of power–isn’t a great move, but geez it’s not like it’s the end of the world or anything!  The human man crosses his arms–as though intentionally imitating Gregory–and cocks his head almost challengingly, just about barely stifling the urge to dismissively stick his tongue out in contempt of the pretentious air being given off by the other, before he sharply shoots back a response of his own, making sure to match the disguised Psion’s tone exactly.

“Wellllll… –maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t skulking around like a weirdo!”

He wouldn’t normally address a kid–no matter how pretentious–like that, but man something is definitely up with this one.  Something weird enough that it somehow feels fitting to respond as he would anyone else; it just feels right somehow, especially for the weirdly blank demeanor and the way that the kid talks… which oddly enough, also feels right somehow hence why he doesn’t question it much at all.  Maybe even more so given just how much, odd as it may be, it re-ignites the same rebellious spark that propelled him forward against all odds back when Giegue–.  He cuts his own thought off with a shake of his head, disapproval of his own, before completely pushing away the overall ick of just how unsettling, disturbing, and well… complicated it ended up being.  He doesn’t really know why he’s thinking about him now of all things, but well, old habits die hard, especially when dredged back up by yet another attack.  Some time might have passed since then, but the scale of it this time around was something else altogether.

The human exudes a heavy sigh, acutely noting that Gregory had deigned not to respond with an utterly inscrutable expression, before pressing on a bit more gently though not quite letting up entirely yet.

“Guess what I’m saying is that… I’m trying to piece out what you want exactly.”

He animatedly yet vaguely gestures at the other.

“On why you’ve been watching me.”

He sticks up a finger, almost scoldingly, as if anticipating denial of the fact.

“And don’t say it isn’t you.  It’s gotta be you.  I got the same feeling I’ve been getting over the past few days right as you arrived, but stronger.

I’m a PSI-user too, y’know?

Maybe not as talented as one of my best friends, but not exactly a lightweight either, you get it?”

Just as was the case before, Ninten is met with silence or at least that appears to be the case at first, before Gregory averts his gaze, small hands agitatedly gripping the ends of his yellow sweater and twisting it to and fro.  As his own bout of pettiness slowly ebbs away, a combination of frustration–in having miscalculated so severely and violating the one thing he had vowed not to do–and shame sets in, causing the disguised alien to hesitate a little before he ultimately responds.  There’s no utility in lying.  Not about observing Ninten at least.  As for the reason why… well… he will have to make something up.  A moment’s thought is granted to that notion before Gregory straightens himself out to a more upright position and nods, flatly speaking as he does so.

“I do know.  You are the one that stopped the alien invasion a decade ago.  I have heard many stories about it and was hoping to learn something more from observing you.

I…”

The disguised alien glances back, expression perfectly neutral, before he seems to ultimately relent in some way, hands falling back to idle positions by his sides.

“... –sorry.”

And though his stoic demeanor dares not falter, it ‘feels’ as though the ‘floodgates’ have effectively been opened or as though something has burst on the inside in a way he has not experienced in a very long time.  It’s an oddly rending sensation; resonant with that which he had pushed back before being inadvertently pulled back in with a biting vengeance.  A buried desire to apologize–to rectify–wrongdoings against his adoptive human mother’s kin now reborn anew and embodied by the simple expression he had just managed to utter.  Something that means so much more than just this situation in particular, but no less a truth that he could not reveal here and now.  The ‘cruel’ truth of the matter is that Ninten could never be allowed to understand just what the ‘sorry’ means in full… what it exactly means to the Psion himself… because it would go against his current mission on Earth.  On what he means to achieve in ways that far transcend the mere physical actions of cleaning up after what he’s done here.  It isn’t just about rectifying the physical damages, but ensuring that no further harm comes to the life-forms on Earth because of him and that they can exist in relative peace without having to see even the remnants of the invasions of Earth.

“I should depart.  I will bother you no further.”

And to that end, out returns the only correct response to such a situation, in Gregory’s personal opinion.  Personal feelings must never come before his mission.  Be as that may however, it would seem that such a thing is not entirely up to the Psion himself because for better and for worse, the human isn’t quite as content to let this whole thing go.  Not after he’s heard not just the reason why, but the way the other seems to relent shortly after.  An apology goes a long way and while there’s (still) this overwhelming sense of oddness and vague sense of familiarity–something that’s been pushed back time and time again, throughout the entire ordeal–it doesn’t exactly stop him from sticking out a hand (but this time, without making the mistake of suddenly coming into physical contact with the other) in a stop motion.

“Wait!  Listen, this is all super-weird okay?  Let’s just get that out there, but hey, if you wanna know more about that whole invasion thing, I don’t mind telling the story.

But some advice for next time? if you wanna get something outta someone, it’s usually better to just be direct about it y’know?”

He smiles, reassuringly, at the disguised alien.  It seems that for the time-being, everything preceding this moment, is water under the bridge.

“Makes it easier to avoid situations like this to begin with, yeah?”

Gregory averts his gaze for a moment, mulling over the human’s words for a moment and turning over his revised options, before looking back at the other with a curt nod, his own expression a somewhat cold and blank contrast to Ninten’s warmth.

“I suppose so.”

And… that’s all he says for the time-being, unable to put together anything better.  In the end, it seems that since the ‘damage’ is effectively done… he might as well see this through to the very end; this way he gleans something from it as opposed to something this happening… with nothing to show for it afterwards anyways.  Fortunately, he doesn’t need to say much because Ninten himself is talkative and outgoing enough to fill in the spaces left in the wake of Gregory’s woeful inadequacies in such a thing.  The hand that the human had extended out earlier is promptly turned over in an open gesture, receptive to being gripped in kind by another.

“Ahem.  Now that that’s settled, why dontcha head back with me to my house?  It’s better to talk ‘bout this kinda thing in comfort!”

Gregory himself merely stares at the offered hand, perhaps for a moment too long as though more complicated deliberations are going on in his head, before relenting and gingerly–cautiously–taking it.  Something so simple yet utterly complicated.  He has not held anyone’s hand in literal millenia much less anyone that could effectively be regarded as ‘family’ by proxy.  It is as though he had grown so accustomed to existing in a particular state–with a perpetual figurative hole in his ‘heart’–that he had not realized that anything was amiss anymore until the realization struck him anew.  Re-awakened a particular kind of awareness that had been numbed before and in turn, alerted him to an old pain as it’s now being eased, even if only a little bit.  Were he precisely the same as he was before, the disguised Psion is certain that he would have retracted his hand immediately and though the impulse isn’t entirely absent, rather than falling to its mercurial whims, he tightens his grip just a bit to avoid inadvertently slipping out.

Grip secured and confident that he’ll be followed in kind, the human man begins to almost casually make his way across the short distance to his home while Gregory silently follows along, still a touch conflicted but more willing to put that much behind him in favour of making certain that everything goes well here.

“Soooo… you obviously already know me, my name and everything… –so I gotta know, what do I call my newest fan?”

The word ‘fan’ immediately cuts through the remainder of the disguised alien’s internal conflict if only because such a notation is absurd, his mouth twitching just a bit with a barely contained resurgence of that pettiness from before.  It does no good to become unnecessarily combative like that.  The assumption made is a convenient one and so, after the initial affrontement passes, Gregory responds in a more comparatively amicable (if not fundamentally neutral) way in return.

“You may refer to me as ‘Gregory’.  I look forward to learning from you, Ninten.”

[amoebaforce]

Pssst... can i request scions reacting to their romantic partner wol turning into a sin eater.

two asks, one stone!

this particular AU isn't my favorite, i must confess. i like seeing other players' WoL-turned-sineater concept art, but the implications are just so sad (and world-breaking) that it feels hard for me to do the AU its proper justice.

but i respect angst enjoyers! so here is a little drabble for you both to enjoy :)

tags: angst, violence, implied death, body horror, dark themes in general tbh, Shadowbringers spoilers, gn!WoL word count: 325

Something must have gone wrong. The delicate, ever-shifting balance of aether, of light and dark, the tenuous thread upon which the worlds teeter... Something must have broken it. No one could know where it happened, or how, or by whose hand. At this point, it was too late to wonder. Too late to reverse the tides. The sky was already bright and stagnant, the lands still bleached and barren -- and the Warrior transformed.

Maybe 'transformed' was too sweet a word. Too gentle, too clinical. It didn't capture the bones cracking or the skin ripping. Or the screaming. Gods, the screaming. How it hung in the air like fog as every scrap of light within the Warrior painstakingly tore its way out. And how it suddenly stopped, replaced with naught but sterile silence as something new arose in their place.

A thing with too many eyes, too many limbs, flesh pallid, body edged with glittering gold. It towered over the other sin eaters, dwarfing even the most formidable of the Lightwardens, in stature and power alike. Power leaked like blood from its ragged seams. Puddles of liquid light splattered the ground as it took its first stuttering steps in its new frame. All who looked upon it knew it was not a mere sin eater, but a newborn god. A harbinger of a hideous doom, terrible and beautiful in the same vacant moment.

And as the creature brayed, announcing its supremacy to the flocks of its newfound kin, the others fled. Some ran; others were dragged, or carried. But all fled. What else could they do? The world was unraveling around them, crumbling piecemeal into the sickly stillness of the light. They had to reach the Crystarium, had to regroup, had to make sure the denizens of the shard were safe. There were thousands of lives at stake -- and yet, as the Scions raced to safety, all they could think of was the life they were leaving behind.

[ficretus]

With Vale being destroyed there is a non zero percent chance Salem has Relic of Choice. As I previously stated, I don't think that's the case as it would be very anticlimactic way to do it after six full volumes of Relic eluding her. I see it more as a raising of stakes for Vacuo battle since loss there could mean Salem's victory with all four Relics.

However, I mostly want to focus on Relic of Choice's role in Knightfall theory mythos and implications Relic being taken by Salem could have.

Relic of Choice is one of the center pieces of Knightfall theories, tying to Indecisive King story as well as giving Cinder in universe way to see reality of her situation. So if Relic of Choice is acquired off screen, does that invalidate all previous theories? I'd say no.

While it's true most interpretations of the theory focus on Vault encounter, it doesn't have to be that way. Encounter can happen at Evernight (or wherever Salem stashes Relics) with Cinder being there on guard duty. As I stated before in one of my theories, I consider Cinder kidnapping Jaune to be plausible scenario to happen during Vacuo arc looking at him as Joan of Arc allusion. So scenario in which Cinder and Jaune are at Evernight with Relics in not implausible in my book.

In fact, now that I think of it, encounter happening in Evernight might make more sense than in the Vault going purely by literary influences. Prince encounters Cinderella at her home, Joan encounters Dauphin in his castle, Widow encounters Indecisive King in his castle, Ozma saves Salem from tower she was trapped in (this is looking at Knightfall as reverse Salem/Ozma story). Common thread is that Jaune coded character encounters Cinder coded character at her home and Evernight is closest she has to one.

It could also tie in nicely with Cinder's Cinderella influence. In her story Salem is both Fairy Godmother (magical being that gives her the tools to achieve her dream, in this case acquisition of Maiden powers) and Evil Stepmother (repressive figure that keeps her down). With her Relic being acquired, Salem no longer has a reason to rely on Cinder and might resort to having her as glorified guard dog (I mean she can basically control her with Grimm arm). So she might slip from Fairy Godmother role to Stepmother role and keep her away at Evernight with Relics.

So basically, I don't think anything changes in the grand scheme of things even if Relic is acquired of screen.

[asha-mage]

              “We can’t go north.” Rand said finally.

              Mat hesitated before responding. “Padan Fain could have kept on south towards Cairhien while we were in the mountains- assuming that was where we would be headed.” But Rand was shaking his head before Mat had finished speaking.

              “Even if he has, he'll soon realize his mistake and run us down before we can reunite with Ingtar. Remember what Moiraine said? He was…remade to hunt us. He can track us, and that’s before you consider the…” Rand trailed off but Mat knew how that sentence ended. Even before you consider the dagger. Not to mention Mat’s connection to Mordeth. Realizing Mat understood Rand pressed on past the point. “There's no chance Ingtar has managed to close the distance between the two of us already- so if we had north we’ll just be reversing our positions from before. Running desperately while Fain tries to bring us down.” Rand shifted as he spoke leaning back but not taking his eyes from the chest.

              “But if he has headed south then we’ll be riding right into him.” Mat pointed out. He kept his hands on his own knees, trying to resist the urge to pluck at his pants or sleeves. His mind itched like it had been littered with scatter heads. He knew why, but he refused to give in.

              Rand nodded. “Yes. But he’ll also have to go more carefully. The closer we get to the city, the more farms and towns we’re sure to come across- just like the trek to Camelyn. You can go days without seeing anyone between the Erinin and Kinslayer’s Dagger according to Ingtar, so a few dozen Trollocs and some darkfriends don’t make much of a sight. But with soldiers and traffic on the roads, Fain will have to go by night and stay away from the main highways, or anywhere else he might get caught out. Whatever is going on in Cairhien, the King won't ignore a band of Trollocs in his backyard.”

              “Maybe.” Mat said shrewdly. “But there is another way. We could go west along the mountain range towards-“

              “No.” Rand’s response was immediate and firm, and his voice flat.

              “We don’t know that there was any truth to what Adelaid was saying.” Mat said, voice exasperated. “She could have misunderstood her mission, or gotten it from some Red sister who knows too much. The oaths could be fiction afterall, or Light, she could be Black Ajah for all we know. If the Amyrlin wanted me dead then she had plenty of chance in Fal Dara and-“ Mat cut off as Rand tore his eyes away from the chest to stare him right in the eyes.

              “No Mat.” Rand’s knuckles had turned white. “We’re not risking it. I’m not risking you.”

              His voice brooked no argument and Mat bit his tongue. Well, he didn’t really want to go to Tar Valon anyways. Just the thought made his skin crawl, even if it was the surest way to get the horn to safety. Mat wasn’t as certain about Siuan Sanche as he would have liked. To say nothing of that strange Brown Sister both she and Moiraine seemed to trust. He wasn’t eager to put himself, or to put Rand for that matter, back in Aes Sedai hands.

              “It will have to be you, then.” Mat said quietly. Rand’s face contorted and the bond flared with a mix of emotions so violent Mat couldn’t pick any single one out from the others.

              When Rand spoke he sounded hoarse. “Egwene and Nynaeve. Maybe if their training advances enough, they could…” He trailed off, gulping down. Mat said nothing. If their training advanced that far…would they even be willing to help Mat and Rand anymore? Or would they be as ready to try tying strings to Rand as the rest?

              By then, would they even be ready to snip Mat’s thread out of the pattern if he threatened the Tower’s plans?

              Not Nynaeve. Mat thought stubbornly. Never Nynaeve. She’ll always be the Wisdom no matter where she goes or what the Aes Sedai try to do to her. She’ll be ready to bandage our hurts and call us fools all the while.

              But Egwene? Mat was less sure. Whatever Egwene did, she did with her whole heart. She committed with all she was. Mat did not think the Tower would be any different.

              “They might be able to help.” Mat said finally. Might. It was a thin word to hang their hopes on. “But even so…”

              “I know.” Rand said softly.

              They lapsed back to silence after that, both their eyes drifting to the chest. Faintly, Mat could hear Hurin snoring the distance, the crackle of a few bugs somewhere in the brush, the faint babble of water streaming by.

              “Do you want me to open the chest?” Rand asked finally, not looking at Mat.

              Mat hated that his breath caught at the question, hated that his head spun to stare up at Rand. He hated the naked hunger that flared in his gut, no doubt plain in his eyes and his jaw. The yes was already half formed in his tongue when he bit down on it to stop the word from coming out.

              Arguments immediately sprang together fully formed in his head- so fully formed that he realized he must have been mulling them over in some corner of his mind for a while.

             The Aes Sedai warded you so you can’t spread the evil of it. You’ll die if you go too long without it and no telling if just traveling with it in the chest will be enough. It could be damaging the horn for all you know

              You might need Mashadar’s power to protect Rand.

-- Sworn, Chapter 17: Chasm

[celestialsolitude111]

I've grown familiar to the darkness of my own wickedly.

I navigated through its thickness solemnly with ease. Along little creatures I call company.

It's all I've ever known, so my eyes have adjusted millenia ago.

Treading through, I may stub a toe or bump into my own shadow.

It's like running into an old friend now.

I rested in the ivy leaves and mold this dim world served me. The cold is comforting, I call it home.

Then you presented yourself to me, like a beacon of light. Is the sun's beauty not terrifying ?

If you die you're taking me out with you.

A biblical angel in disguise, I witnessed your eyes eat me alive.

Gleaming rays penetrated my pupils. Right through my skull, and burned a hole through the back of my head.

Never again could I recite what I once said.

Like needling a thread, you bound me to you.

All the beliefs I once owned became a puddle beneath my feet.

I was fully enveloped in your light. Then I witnessed the monsters I called friends.

They stared at me like deer before a car, their pupils gleaming back at me like a flare guns spark.

Stout strangers surrounded me like fallen comet fragments, burning alive in the atmosphere.

"Were you my friends, all along ?"

They chanted, "the light will show you, but it burns. They have found you, it will hurt."

Ubruptly veering away from me, in heaps and herds. Walking backwards, time steered reverse.

I don't know what I heard, but I think you said my name.

"Mantra. Shall I say it again ?"

Their numinous voice reminds.

The thing is, I feel less alone in the void of black, I float in the uncertainty of what lurks within.

A man with a mask, or a pair of twins ?

Some have eyes in the palms of their hands.

My imagination led me to believe, that the grim figures once surrounding me, weren't grown from thaumaturgy trees.

But I thought I was hearing bees ?

"A finest nectar originates at the womb."

Again, you answer my thoughts. Is my tongue cut off, by you ?

You tower over my celibate frame, behind my back, why won't you show me your face ?

A droplet welcomed my shoulder like a kiss, but it was not tender, it sent me into a violent flinch.

For it did not nourish me like the sky gifts the flowers. How Icarus loved the Sun, no.

How the Sun loved Icarus.

It burned my skin until I cowered, getting trampled by poison of relentless showers.

They say don't look directly at the sun, but I face your way, painted by acid rain.

The forecast was not one delivered by the clouds. I was met with a crooked scowel, I found you, who stood proud.

You drooled over me, your mouths way of lying ?

My vocal cords knotted, at the words I was prying. A coherent thought coursed into crying.

"Why didn't I love you, when you were dying ?"

They interrupt.

Their chuckle cracked the air through my ears like a chain whip. A vacant space between us, no longer exists.

"I am the light that unbinds the frayed. You were merely a thread of my arrays."

I fell to my knees, where I wept pleas. The words fell in avalanches, out of my teeth. To the ashes below my feet.

No sympathy, I was offered. By the entity, who stood taller.

I perked up through glossy eyes, a jagged hand extended, to my suprise. What resembled a petrified tree branch, as if struck by God's own demand.

"What you once bared, is now eternally mine. Drink this, My dear. For it's only red whine."

They knew I didn't believe them, every thought I had unspoken. As if they peeled my face, clawing wide open.

Like a wilted old book, skipping through every page of my psych. Every deepest darkest secret, was brought into light.

"Did I stutter, My darling ? The love that belonged to you was ephemeral, what I long from you will live sempiternal."

Their patience fell short for what they desired. They sucked the air right out of my lungs, till I fell tired. Sealing away my very own fate, with a corrupted kiss. A lingering taste of decay.

I wanted to cry out your name, when I realized I've never seen your whole face.

"I am only what you portray, call me your very own self portrait."

Collapsing on myself like a damped house of cards.

"For the innocence you possessed, you may now disregard."

Is this line of events becoming of my doom ?

You don't know me, though you've built my tomb.

You skipped away, with a manic flair. Blinking your eyes three times, and twirling your hair.

"I never gazed upon something so divine. However never cared, about your beauty. I craved it being mine."

I listened for the echo trailing behind your voice.

It told me there was no walls accenting my void.

Your shine dimmed to blackess, did God turn off his bedside lamp, then ?

"Yes." I waited, but the words never sent. All my little creatures, running rampant. My nostrils find their familiar scent.

Discovering I stand on an island, with nothing but the backs of my eyelids.

My eyes have adjusted to the light you once engulfed me in.

What I view is nothing, searching, squinting. Space with no stars, no start, no end.

My only friends, were the ones in my head.

Somehow you scared away, even them.

-𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠