#also i cannot tell you all enough how creatures in heaven is making me so incredibly unwell

[fabdante]

Got tagged again by @whimsipunk and i am literally always excited to share music so i will gladly do this again asdfghjk (thank u so much for tagging me my friend!!!!)

Share 5 Songs You've Been Listening To Lately

I did what I did last time and skimmed through my top songs for the month and picked a few!

lochness by julie

No Rest by Dry The River (i stopped making this list to listen to this one because i forgot how much i loved it until the past couple of days missing u zelgan hours)

Cowboy Dan by Modest Mouse (this one is actually not in my top songs for the month but i cannot stop thinking about it)

Venus as a Boy by Bjork

Creatures in Heaven by Glass Animals in honor of the amount of times I listened to it today (i'm inconsolable over how much it reminds me of sasha and august i literally cannot put it to words)

I'm not tagging anyone this time but please feel free to do this anyway because I want to see music!!

[nalyra-dreaming]

"... And of course there are some really juicy parts in "The Tale of the Body Thief" that Jacob commented on wanting to do with Sam :) ..."

For people who haven't read books and only watch the series. Can you please tell me what this means? And what was Jacob talking about?

Sure :) "The tale of the Body Thief" deals with Lestat spiraling and deep in depression (which leads to a suicide attempt that fails because he is simply too powerful for the sun to kill him anymore), and being presented a way out, namely a (supposedly temporary) body-switch. Which… everyone warns him not to do, of course, and which he actually does, of course.

:)

Louis and Lestat are… in a weird relationship at that point. They cannot live with each other, but not without each other, and so they live separately, but visit the other regularly. Their own chairs in the other's house, literal "Netflix-and-chill" routines, and so on. They see each other often. Louis of course warns Lestat not do that switch.

(sorry, couldn't indent or quote this, the post wouldn't save, lol)

__________________

"You're out of your mind," Louis said. "Don't be so hasty," I answered.

"You quote this idiot's words to me? Destroy him. Put an end to him. Find him tonight if you can and do away with him." "Louis, for the love of heaven . . ."

"Lestat, this creature can find you at will? That means he knows where you lie. You've led him here now. He knows where I lie. He's the worst conceivable enemy! Mon Dieu, why do you go looking for adversity? Nothing on earth can destroy you now, not even the Children of the Millennia have the combined strength to do it, and not even the sun at midday in the Gobi Desert-so you court the one enemy who has power over you. A mortal man who can walk in the light of day. A man who can achieve complete dominion over you when you yourself are without a spark of consciousness or will. No, destroy him. He's far too dangerous. If I see him, I'll destroy him."

"Louis, this man can give me a human body. Have you listened to anything that I've said."

"Human body! Lestat, you can't become human by simply taking over a human body! You weren't human when you were alive! You were born a monster, and you know it. How the hell can you delude yourself like this."

"I'm going to weep if you don't stop."

"Weep. I'd like to see you weep. I've read a great deal about your weeping in the pages of your books but I've never seen you weep with my own eyes."

"Ah, that makes you out to be a perfect liar," I said furiously. "You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!"

"Lestat, kill this creature! You're mad if you let him come close enough to you to speak three words."

__________________

(This also refers to the contested NOLA meeting right here.) Jacob called their … bickering "petty and in love". They're both not ready yet at that point.

Of course Lestat ignores the warnings and actually does the body switch, and as could be imagined the person takes off with Lestat's immortal body.

Lestat get's sick (as a mortal), and then goes to Louis to ask to be turned, so he can hunt down the thief, which then leads to one of the most raw exchanges (and iirc that power switch is what Jacob would really love to do), because Louis rejects him, though he is mightily tempted.

__________________

"I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!" "Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?" "You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don't give me the blood . . ."

'He turned around, his face like that of a ghost, eyes wide and hideously unnatural in their beauty. "I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life." "How dare you make this choice for me!" I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging. "Don't come at me again," he said patiently. "If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don't wish to do."

"Ah, you've killed me! That's what you've done. You think I believe all your lies! You've condemned me to this rotting, Stinking, aching body, that's what you've done! You think I don't know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth."

"It isn't the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I've done."

"No, no, please." I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

"Louis," I said. "I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me." I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. "Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I'll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don't make me beg you on my knees."

I could sense the change in him, the sudden predatory glaze that covered his eyes. But what was stronger than his thirst? His will.

"No, Lestat," he whispered. "I can't do it. Even if I'm wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors are meaningless, I can't do it." I took him in my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I had made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck. He didn't move away from me. He couldn't bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me here in this misery, don't do it."

"Don't beg me anymore," he said sorrowfully. "It's useless. I'm going now. You won't see me again."

"Louis!" I held fast to him. "You can't refuse me." "Ah, but I can and I have."

_________________

…. Lestat burns down Louis' little hut after the refusal in a fit of disappointment and anger after. (Not before saving the paintings in it though coughs)

When Lestat finally gets his body back he meets Louis again in NOLA, in a church. Lestat is bitter, and jaded, Louis is just so relieved to see him.

__________________

We sat there in silence for many long moments, and then he spoke. "You burnt my little house, didn't you?" he asked in a small, vibrant voice.

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a smile, eyes still on the altar. "Besides, I was a human when I did that. It was human weakness. Want to come and live with me?"

"This means you've forgiven me?"

"No, it means I'm playing with you. I may even destroy you for what you did to me. I haven't made up my mind. Aren't you afraid?" "No. If you meant to do away with me, it would already be done."

"Don't be so certain. I'm not myself, and yet I am, and then I am not again."

Long silence, with only the sounds of Mojo breathing hoarsely and deeply in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I knew you would win. But I didn't know how."

I didn't answer. But I was suddenly boiling inside. Why were both my virtues and my faults used against me? But what was the use of it-to make accusations, to grab him and shake him and demand answers from him? Maybe it was better not to know.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I will not," I replied. "Why in the world do you want to know?" Our hushed voices echoed softly in the nave of the church. The wavering light of the candles played upon the gilt on the tops of the columns, on the faces of the distant statues. Oh, I liked it here in this silence and coolness. And in my heart of hearts I had to admit I was so very glad that he had come. Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.

I turned and looked at him. He was facing me, one knee drawn up on the pew and his arm resting on the back of it. He was pale as always, an artful glimmer in the dark.

"You were right about the whole experiment," I said. At least my voice was steady, I thought.

"How so?" No meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know. And what a comfort it was-the sight of his face, and the faint dusty scent of his worn garments, and the breath of fresh rain still clinging to his dark hair.

"What you told me, my dear old friend and lover," I said. "That I didn't really want to be human. That it was a dream, and a dream built upon falsehood and fatuous illusion and pride."

"I can't claim that I understood it," he said. "I don't understand it now."

"Oh, yes, you did. You understand very well. You always have. Maybe you lived long enough; maybe you have always been the stronger one. But you knew. I didn't want the weakness; I didn't want the limitations; I didn't want the revolting needs and the endless vulnerability; I didn't want the drenching sweat or the searing cold. I didn't want the blinding darkness, or the noises that walled up my hearing, or the quick, frantic culmination of erotic passion; I didn't want the trivia; I didn't want the ugliness. I didn't want the isolation; I didn't want the constant fatigue."

"You explained this to me before. There must have been something . . . however small. . . that was good!" "What do you think?" "The light of the sun."

"Precisely. The light of the sun on snow; the light of the sun on water; the light of the sun… on one's hands and one's face, and opening up all the secret folds of the entire world as if it were a flower, as if we were all part of one great sighing organism. The light of the sun … on snow."

I stopped. I really didn't want to tell him. I felt I had betrayed myself.

"There were other things," I said. "Oh, there were many things. Only a fool would not have seen them. Some night, perhaps, when we're warm and comfortable together again as if this never happened, I'll tell you."

"But they were not enough." "Not for me. Not now."

Silence.

"Maybe that was the best part," I said, "the discovery. And that I no longer entertain a deception. That I know now I truly love being the little devil that I am."

I turned and gave him my prettiest, most malignant smile. He was far too wise to fall for it. He gave a long near-silent sigh, his lids lowered for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "Only you could have gone there," he said. "And come back."

I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief? Who else would have plunged into the venture with such sheer recklessness? And as I thought this over, I realized what ought to have been plain to me already. That I'd known the risk I was taking. I'd seen it as the price. The fiend told me he was a liar; he told me he was a cheat. But I had done it because there was simply no other way.

Of course this wasn't really what Louis meant by his words; but in a way it was. It was the deeper truth. "Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply.

"Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say."

"You smug, cynical lying bastard," I whispered, the anger cresting in me suddenly, the blood even rushing into my face. "I needed you and you turned me away! Out in the mortal night you locked me. You refused me. You turned your back!"

The heat in my voice startled him. It startled me. But it was there and I couldn't deny it, and once again my hands were trembling, these hands that had leapt out and away from me at the false David, even when all the other lethal power in me was kept in check.

He didn't utter a word. His face registered those small changes which shock produces-the slight quiver of an eyelid, the mouth lengthening and then softening, a subtle clabbering look, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He held my accusing glance all through it, and then slowly looked away.

"It was David Talbot, your mortal friend, who helped you, wasn't it?" he asked. I nodded.

But at the mere mention of the name, it was as if all my nerves had been touched by the tip of a heated bit of wire. There was enough suffering here as it was. I couldn't speak anymore of David. I wouldn't speak of Gretchen. And I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to him and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

We sat there in silence. The soft cacophony of the city rose and fell beyond the stained-glass windows, which caught the faint glow from the street lamps outside. The rain had come again, the gentle warm rain of New Orleans, in which one can walk so easily as if it were nothing but the gentlest mist.

"I want you to forgive me," he said. "I want you to understand that it wasn't cowardice; it wasn't weakness. What I said to you at the time was the truth. I couldn't do it. I can't bring someone into this! Not even if that someone is a mortal man with you inside him. I simply could not."

"I know all that," I said.

I tried to leave it there. But I couldn't. My temper wouldn't cool, my wondrous temper, the temper which had caused me to smash David Talbot's head into a plaster wall.

He spoke again. "I deserve whatever you have to say."

"Ah, more than that!" I said. "But this is what I want to know." I turned and faced him, speaking through my clenched teeth. "Would you have refused me forever? If they'd destroyed my body, the others-Marius, whoever knew of it-if I'd been trapped in that mortal form, if I'd come to you over and over and over again, begging you and pleading with you, would you have shut me out forever! Would you have held fast?"

"I don't know."

"Don't answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know. Use your filthy imagination. You do know. Would you have turned me away?"

"I don't know the answer!"

"I despise you!" I said in a bitter, harsh whisper. "I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your little house. And nothing could save you, nothing at all."

I glared at him, at the sharp graceful angles of his imperturbable face, faintly phosphorescent against the deeper shadows of the church. How beautiful the shape of his wide-set eyes, with their fine rich black lashes. How perfect the tender indentation of his upper lip.

The anger was acid inside me, destroying the very veins through which it flowed, and burning away the preternatural blood. Yet I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't even conceive of carrying out such awful, cowardly threats. I could never have brought harm to Claudia. Ah, to make something out of nothing, yes. To throw up the pieces to see how they will fall, yes. But vengeance. Ah, arid awful distasteful vengeance. What is it to me?

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

Finally I rose slowly, stepping past him, and motioned for Mojo to wake and come.

__________________

It's all… very emotional and very raw.

The power dynamics are inverted. There is history between them. Petty and helpless love, too. Desire, passion, anger, love, hate, you name it.

Just thinking about Sam and Jacob doing this gives me the shivers.

(As a side note, we have "artful glimmer in the dark" here as a description for Louis, calling back to "spark in the dark".)

Louis moves in with Lestat (and David) once more after this, into the renovated Rue Royale.

It's where he lives until the events after Merrick, after which they abandon Rue Royale, and Louis goes to Armand to New York for a while until the court is created in the Auvergne.

[meowww-ffxiv]

Theodore: As I have indulged you in many of your Little Creature Tendencies, I ask you to indulge me in my weekly existential anxieties.

Meowdred: Okay. OwO

Theodore: Do you remember the Ea? How they said the universe will one day enter an eternal ice age, and no new stars or life will ever be born. At the time, I was so concerned with saving our star that I rejected their revelation with all my heart, but I think what they said is the truth.

Meowdred: Are you worried about it now?

Theodore: I don't know if "worry" is the correct word. But it looms over me. Some days it shadows all my joys.

Meowdred: Hmmm. I can tell you what I think about it.

Theodore: That it does not matter if we all die in the end and are never reborn, only that we are alive in this moment?

Meowdred: Well of course it MATTERS. Nobody wants to die, man, me included. But I think the Ea posed a fundamental flaw question just like Hermes did.

Theodore: Oh?

Meowdred: When they saw the truth, they said "This cannot be! Our existence is not indefinite!" Which I understand flew in the face of all that they had achieved, but come on. Everything's going to end SOME day, and the part of the universe that encompasses life surely must, too.

Meowdred: But they were saying all that from their perspective. You and I have seen how just the shards of Hydaelyn possessed such radically different flora and fauna. The other side of that ice age, or even within that ice age, might not contain or support aether-based life forms -- life as we knew it. But so what? Something or someone might have still lived.

Meowdred: I was going to ask the Ea that too, but Y'shtola and Urianger were more succinct in their rejection of their wallowing.

Theodore: I see. But that does not actually make me feel that much better considering the extinguish of aether-based life forms is still true.

Meowdred: And so? It is a grand truth. It is the assurance of a final destination for our journeys. The only thing worse than dying to me is not being allowed to die. Not being able to lay down your burdens for the last, final time. And it's so far away!! Practically infinite. How many hellos can you fit into this infinite before our time ends, how many goodbyes, how many skills can you learn and perfect and pass on. How many new friends and new experiences and even new enemies to define, redefine, unmake and remake you?

Meowdred: How many turns of the heavens do I have, to love you? Let's say our souls will be peculiar and we retain ourselves after these bodies disintegrate. How many reunions would we have? Adventures and tranquil nights alike. When I see before me the amount of time I have to be your friend, it's both finite in this life and infinite in its possibilities. But believe me, I'm glad for it.

Theodore: :''( I love you too. I love you the most out of everyone and everything.

Meowdred: I love you too. ^w^

Theodore: Also I suppose you were playing up the part about being old?

Meowdred: Raha pointed out that it's not so much I feel old as I feel worn down, and not processing everything as well as I want to. It's not synonymous as feeling like I'm at the end of my ropes. This body is frail but it loves me well enough if I care for it, as do all things. I'm up for adventuring.

[loserchildhotpants]

“You could. You won’t, though,” Yana tells Cas, frowning at him; she puts her hands on his shoulders, and continues, “your Grace sings of such adoration, such lust, devotion, hunger, of such want — you want so much, Castiel, you cannot lie to me and tell me you are leaving here for home — you tell me the truth, and tell me that you are leaving for a base of operations, a place your sick heart grows sicker every day—”

…

“Don’t worry. I will be well, my friend,” Cas tells her, slipping his hands down her wrists to hold her hands as they drop from his shoulders, “I hope that you are well too.”

I love this part, because it’s like, Cas's love for Dean is so big and full and Yana mistook it for being reciprocated, that maybe she saw he was a bit beat up and battered but clearly it’s been rectified by now! Castiel has spoken the words out loud and the love is so strong Cas would be in far worse shape if they weren’t together! But no, Cas is so powerful and alien to even other powerful and alien creatures he’s difficult to comprehend even to them.

And I do wonder, was Cas heart sick here? Slowly dying from loneliness? But Cas going all, no I’ll be fine, yes he’s sick and it will kill him eventually but it will take until at least the end of Dean's natural life so no biggie (lol oh Cas). Or was Cas just being comforting to Yana&Sophia + Dean listening in- because like you show later, Cas would rather leave and be lonely away from Dean (one of the worst things imaginable to Cas) then burden others, especially Dean, with the consequences of his feelings and make them feel guilt or worry or worst of all obligation- but he really is unwell and doesn’t want to be a burden so he lies that he’ll be fine

Also, this makes me think of Hanahaki and ohhhhh Castiel with Hanahaki ;.; coughing up ancient plants the predate flowers, maybe he had it as an angel but it wouldn’t kill him so he ignored it, then when he’s human he’s actively dying from it now, homeless and away from Dean who has no idea, another reason for the Riet Zien to come put him outta his misery. Cas coughing up a leviathan blossom in Purgatory so that’s how he got it before Dean prayed lol. Cas coughing up one last flower to give to Dean in that dungeon to remember him before he dies…

Anyway! Heart sick Cas! Alien and powerful Cas that has space auras and wants and needs Dean feels like he can’t give or understand!

Also! These parts:

“... have you really been thinking about moving away?”

…

“I feel as though I make you unhappy,” Cas finally says, gently and sadly, “... it’s always been this way. When I stay with you, you grow to be unhappy with me, impatient and aggravated by me. Then I leave, and you become even more irate. I think maybe I’m bad for you. Bad for your health and wellness. That you find more stability and happiness when I’m not there—”

“I don’t!” Dean interrupts abruptly, harshly, staring wide-eyed at the stubbled skin of Cas’ throat, “I don’t, Cas — when you’re gone— when you’re gone, the way I fuckin’ fall apart… you’re right, I know you are, that I’m — that I constantly send you mixed signals, but I — every time you leave, I wanna—f-fuckin’ die, Cas. I hate it, I just… I’m just bad at… this. Y’know, nine out of ten times, I’m actually angry with myself and not you at all. It just comes out like that ‘cause I fuckin’ — combust. I’m like an IED, and I just burst into shrapnel that flies everywhere… you’re just always so close to the epicenter, I… it’s not an excuse, I just… I didn’t mean to make you feel that way… I’m sorry…”

Yes yes yes, Cas leaving because he never allows himself to feel wanted, and is never told or reassured enough he is. Because Cas can be told he is wanted once, but he knows it’s not a binding contract, welcome and family and homes can be rescinded! Cas being kicked out of Heaven and re-entry being dangled as a carrot over and over! Being kicked out of the Bunker as a human, trapped&warded against in Season 6! The Divorce Arc! And to Dean family = obligation and nothing can change that, even if it should! So if Dean said “your family and welcome here” to Cas once, Cas is supposed to understand that’s forever even if it tramples on Dean's feelings and wishes! And Cas would never trample on those, in fact he’s so sensitive to them he thinks he figures out Dean discomforts and their causes before Dean does! so best to leave before he hurts Dean more by staying! but him leaving is the thing that hurts most!

oh boys

I’d love to do something hanahaki adjacent for Cas 👀 seeing as im like 17 years late to the fandom, im sure its been done 5000 times BUT 👀 perhaps i can do something w it too 👀 love this concept

Also so glad you enjoyed Perihelion 😭❤️ thank you!!!

[melodie-33]

Watch me yapping about hell and how it should work with sinners , quite long srs.

Many people has been thinking about this concept, I can see a potential about that. Like you see here, Sinners are in hell for reasons, they need to be punished.

Think about criminals, what do you want them to be after you catch them, make them kill each other, and give them permanent death? mehhh. Too soon and that's way too kind for them. They need to be suffer more than just dead-they regret no shit.

In my version, Heaven does have yearly extermination, but they are more like hurting them more than killing them, so that is why they left some broken, error, outdated heavenly steel (not everything they made is perfect, last forever and they have to throw all the error, mistake, outdated into hell. Hell is a general trash can.) Uh, so they inject holy power into the steel and use it to kill/ hurt the sinner. But using for a long time make the steel weak due to the blood stick into it and make them rusty, that is when they throw it away. Sinner will collect them for hurting others or sell them to Camilla at a high price.

I think about sinner being swamp at Pride Ring from the start since Pride is the rot of the other sins. They will trapped there and suffer not only dealing with other sinners but also the punishment from God and Lucifer to hell for only Sinners can feel (both physical and mentally)

Such as:

they can hear the screaming and suffering from nowhere and sometime there are some illusions that appear before them and only sinners can see them.

They may have some diseases that they had while they were alive, they cannot kill sinners but are enough to make them suffer in deep suffering, hatred and remorse.

They may have punishments stuck in them that correspond to the crimes committed.

They might feel the pain they have caused others.

Here is a picture I saw online depicting some of the punishment periods and weather in each region. Sinners will perceive the environment more deeply than native creatures. Because souls can be greatly affected when they are in hell, a place created to make them endure the punishment they have committed. In hell there are also ecosystems and animals thanks to Lucifer (He imitated the earth's animal and created them as a way to deal with depression, mocking and hatred).

I think of pride ring as having the harshest and dirtiest meteorology and environment with skyscrapers (Considering Pride province as the city center /to refer to their dirty desire to one day be able to poke into heaven)

Each province/ring will have different habitat characteristics. Their sky also has different colors to distinguish.

I like the concept Envy Ring is actually the sea and small islands around the sea of the hell. We will have streams and rivers flowing throughout the rings of hell. Envy ring dwellers, folks can move through the water courses within each ring. ah ah, I have a thought, the sea route is also developing and the vast majority of people doing it are people from envy ring

UUhhhh back to the topic. I think when sinners are allowed to move freely since Lucifer don't GAF about them and heaven don't have the right to tell sinners to "stay" at one place and see them flashing genocide on them. Sinners can move into rings that correspond to the crimes they committed the most in their lives. But moving into those rings corresponds to the punishments attached to sinners while they are there. If they are not strong enough, the sinner's soul can easily be torn apart and scattered throughout hell, and they will have to spend a lot of time, spirit and effort to recover back to Pride ring.

Overlords can move freely the most since they are stronger and can handle the punishment.

Thoughts About Sinners Only Being in the Pride Ring and Not Being Able to Traverse the Rings

Point blank, I don't like it.

So, on Sinners only being in the Pride Ring, I think this makes no sense. Like...why? You can't tell me all Sinners who end up in Hell ended up there because their sin was Pride. There's 7 deadly sins for a reason. Like, I understand for meta reasons why they're doing it. Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel take place in the same universe, but can't have a cross over because Amazon owns HH while they don't own HB (and other legal mumbo jumbo), so they need an excuse for them to not go to the other rings and also for why the Extermination is only happening in Pride. However, that's the meta. In-universe? It makes no sense. It's basically a cop out to avoid actually dealing with the issues of the writing. There should be Sinners in every ring of Hell.

Now as for them not being able to travel the rings, that I think holds more merit as I could see it being a method of not allowing them to escape their specific torment, but I think it makes it a lot more interesting for them to be able to move between the rings. I understand for meta reasons why they can't have this, but it would still be so much more interesting to have them traveling through the different rings and dealing with the differing politics and maybe even different Overlords for each ring. It would also be cool to see Sinners from different rings coming to Pride and making themselves an afterlife there.

I just think these things were kinda fucked over by meta and not really properly addressed or dealt with in a way that made sense in-universe.

[cosmiclatte28]

Friendship, Love, Courage

MY FIRST EVER COLLAB!! HOSTED BY THE WONDERFUL @danishmiilk

Characters: Renjun x reader, NoMin!

Fluff romance

Warning : mentions of “stealing”, quite a broken trust but its ending nicely

TW : Stress (?)

HERE WE GO!! I worked so hard on this (even had 2 other friends checked on this and they approved this thanks to both of you #they’re_not_in_tumblr

word count : 12 pages idk how much but come on finish it for me 🥺🥺🥺 thanks

tagging @yutahoes @neopalette @full-hd-sun @swagmonsterofficial @nini-eexxo @hen-marks99 At this point I'm just tagging my moots coz this was my first attempt of collab and i deadass worked so hard on this... it better be read by someone even if they don't like it but they read it 🤭💖 @superm-net @multifandomnet @trashlord-007 @ahsshilee-me @charmingyong

You smile shyly when the cute prefect in blue robe tosses a small smile to you when you pass by him on the moving stairs. He continues his tour of guiding the new wizards and witches into the magical castle, telling them stories, showing them the common room, and helping them adjust to the new living area.

You gasp when you feel a slap on your shoulder, quickly you turn your head to face the now annoyed friend standing beside you.

“Really (y/n)? You’re once again frozen in place when that honey boy you adore walks by.” Jaemin, in his green robe, slicks his blonde hair away while throwing some flirty smile to the younger girls passing by the two of you. They chuckle and blush at his action, unaware of the fact that Na Jaemin already has his eyes on someone.

You glare at him, quickly covering his mouth before catching attention of the living paintings hung on the walls. No, not even the paintings should know about your feelings to that cute Ravenclaw prefect.

“Shut that big mouth of yours please. Don’t you know the walls have ears here?!” you dust off your red robe and continue walking to the dining hall. Shaking aside the cute smile of Huang Renjun away from your head. You’ve met Renjun from the first day of school, he was pure blood with the Hatstall incident at his sorting ceremony. The sorting hat spent a good five minutes pondering if he should be in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Alas the house of the witty won the cute half-blood. As much as you wish to get sorted into the same house as his (mainly because he is cute), once the hat is on, it sorted you to the house of the brave. You’re still happy though to be one of the brilliant half-bloods in the Gryffindor house.

Renjun was very nice of you, when you first felt lonely in the big school (funny how you, a Gryffindor can feel lonely eh? But that’s your life). When you were struggling to find your way through the halls you had to thank Renjun for accompanying you whenever you had to move classes. But your relationship with him is purely just as close as a stranger. Renjun never sits beside you, nor does he hang out with you, he sits with his own smart gang. For two years he purely just helped you get around the halls. Instead of befriending Renjun, you become friends with the two wizards in your batch, the generous Hufflepuff who helps you ace your Herbology class: Lee Jeno. He is your first bestie, and since he enjoys your loud and fun personality, he calls you one of his friends.

The handsome blonde in green robe by your side earlier is your other best friend, Na Jaemin. A pureblood descending from the Slytherin family. You don’t know how Jaemin wants to be friends with you, a Gryffindor, but here you are. If Jeno helps you with herbology, Jaemin is there for you in potion classes. Though at first you think Jaemin is just using you to help him pass transfiguration and magical creatures. Turns out it was the total opposite, Jaemin is interested in Jeno, and the only person he sees is nice enough to be his wingman is you.

You don’t mind this though since you’ve seen how sincere Jaemin is when it comes to defending you and cheering you up. You know it’s just his ego that doesn’t let him say he is being friends with you because you two click. Screw anyone who made the unwritten rules that a Slytherin and Gryffindor cannot be friends. Well you understand since he is a Pure Slytherin. No one expects Slytherin to befriend Gryffindor even worse a half blood.

Back to the mean time, you walk with Jaemin on your side to reach the library where Jeno has reserved a place for you two. It’s your fourth year in Hogwarts which means you and your friends have to start preparing for the O.W.L test to be taken in your last fifth year. Although the three of you are gifted with brilliant heads, no one can slack their O.W.L and expect to pass. Here you are, limiting your free time and getting your ass dragged by Jeno to always study when you have free time.

“I miss playing quidditch.” You whisper after one hour of sitting down in the library and sticking your nose into the lines and lines of scribbles.

Jeno snickers, “You miss quidditch or you miss being in the same air as Renjun?”

You slap his hand that lays on the table and the young boy groans, “You’re evil! You could be in Slytherin, gosh thank heaven you’re not there or you’ve turned me into a stone.”

Jaemin just smirks, well he likes this side of you. The semi-evil part in your innocent-like façade.

“Dramatic, Lee Jeno. I love flying on the broom and chasing the balls.” You lied and if someone had given you the Veritaserum, Jeno’s guess was right. Your team likes to practice with the Ravenclaw’s team; don't ask why when your team captain is clearly flirting with the Ravenclaw’s captain.

“Come on, no one will buy that lie. It’s been four years of secretly crushing Renjun, why don’t you try to at least “befriend” him.” Jaemin sets aside his book and rests his chin on one of his hands.

You focus back on your book, trying to not fall into Jaemin’s hypnotizing eyes that can make you spill truths. “I am his friend. He never calls me an enemy.”

“Yeah not like that, I mean bring him here to our group study, ask him to sit with you during mealtimes. Invite him to join us when we’re strolling around Hogsmeade.” Jeno whispers.

The three of you shut up when a shadow appears on your table and drop a pile of books.

“Excuse me, mind sharing the table? The place is full and yours is the only one available.” A soft voice greets three of you and like robots, you turn your heads slowly to widen your eyes and gasp when the guy of your gossip is standing here.

“Oh Renjun, yes you can. Please,” Jaemin kindly brings his books to his side and you throw him a death glare. Well, the available space is the one on your side.

“Thank you, hey (y/n)! It’s been a while,” Renjun smiles at you. You just smile and nod, well yes you rarely see him in class, mostly because your schedule didn’t match his and both of you stopped playing quidditch.

You swear, that was the longest one hour in your life. Renjun’s soft sweet fragrance of sweet baked vanilla from the side is enough to make your heart beat faster, not to mention how cute he looks with his glasses when he is focusing on the charm textbook. You know if this guy is going to sit here all day, none of the materials written in the book will be planted in your brain. Still, Jeno and Jaemin had the audacity to invite Renjun into your small study group.

“Hey Renjun, next time why don’t you join us to study for O.W.L?” Jeno asks when all of you clean up your belongings and head for dinner.

Renjun’s smile lights up and he laughs nervously, “Well if that is okay with three of you, I don’t have any friends to study with yet.”

“You’re most welcome here! Just ask (y/n) later about our meeting times. Jeno can help with herbology and I can help with Potions. You can help us with charms! (y/n) here is the queen of transfiguration.” Jaemin welcomingly says all of this. Though most people may be blinded by his sweet words, you want to smack the life out of him when you see his glinting eyes taunting you.

You want to object, saying that his schedule won’t work with yours, but the cat has your tongue and all you can do is stay quiet as Renjun thanks Jaemin for inviting him to the group.

With that, Renjun chooses to walk around the grounds for a while before dinner. Your heart is bursting any second whenever he looks up to glance at the sky and you can see his perfectly sculptured face. No, it is not awkward, he casually talks with you about how he also misses quidditch, he also shares funny stories of the first-year students getting lost in the hallways just like you. Is he teasing you about getting lost in the hallway? Well since it is Renjun you just smile, had it been Jeno or Jaemin their hairs would already be in your hand.

“They’re just like you. Looking so cute when they’re lost and confused, afraid to miss their class.” Renjun stares at you and you laugh.

“I know, it was hard okay memorizing this big hall! Not to mention the moving stairs.” You finally feel less nervous and you can start talking with less stuttering.

“Well, if you’re ever confused just call me. I’ll assist you again like back then.” He chuckles and you laugh.

Well, you sort of have to treat Jeno and Renjun for a butterbeer maybe, thanks to them you finally get to walk around and talk with Renjun on the ground after four years.

That night on the paved grounds. You sit down while playing with your wand, swishing it while practicing some chants (without actually doing it). You sit on one of the grounds, leg straight while you lean on one of the pillars there. There is a soft footstep coming to you and someone took the opposite part of the pillars. You turn your head to catch Renjun’s body mirroring yours, but he is holding a book.

“Complicated.” He shrugs coyly.

You toss your head to the side and smile "Renjun, how did you find me? " Your easy-going Gryffindor traits show up and Renjun calmly looks up from his book to look over his shoulder to you too. “Maybe from this?” he offers you a Marauder’s Map and you gasp.

“How can you have one?” you want to take it from his hand, but he is faster.

Before you can ask more questions, Renjun diverts the topic and asks you about the group study. "So, are you sure your Slytherin and Hufflepuff boys want me to be in the group?" Renjun bashfully asks you this.

You laugh "They're more than happy when you accept their offer. Truth is we all suck at the hard charms. We need a tutor and we also need one more friend to make the space full. You're on our first list."

"I am honored to be first in the list, and I also like having friends to study with. So, tell me what the schedule is." With that, you wave your wand to bring you a piece of paper. "Accio schedule." The schedule paper lands on Renjun's slender fingers from your small pocket and the soft looking boy runs his eyes through the timetable. "Great, I can adjust my classes for this." You feel your heart can't take it anymore when he looks into your eyes deeply.

"So, see you tomorrow afternoon." You stand up trying to leave the ground, since the sleeping hours are coming, but his hand reaches for your wrist. "Sorry, do you want to go watch the quidditch practice between our team tomorrow? It's after lunch." Renjun scratches his neck. You nod "I will!" He smiles "Great, see you! Good night."

You raise your eyebrow "My hand" And he gasps as he lets go of your wrist. "Sorry" Both of you laugh and you finally go back to your room. Things were great, you and Renjun slowly became closer.

You hate the silly rules of staying over your own common room. Like dang you want to meet Renjun in his common room, but you know you’re not the smartest one to unlock their password. Not to mention you are not ready to have eyes pierced on you as you enter the room (if you ever succeed)

So, you end up only able to meet Renjun when he sees you on the hallway and with Jeno and Jaemin. He sometimes appears to you in the garden and you once found him chilling on the school’s astronomy tower in the middle of the night. He’s daring enough to leave his bed and you found him stargazing.

After your one encounter on the astronomy tower, that becomes your regular meeting place with Renjun.

Like tonight, both of you sneaked out of your beds, tiptoeing perfectly through the stairs. Somehow escaping the ears of Mr Filch and voila both of you are smiling ear to ear as the moonlight glows through your faces.

You sit on the porch, suddenly regretting your stupid head for forgetting the scarf. The wind is pretty harsh, and you try to hug your body. Renjun is busy watching the sky through his binoculars. You gave him your binoculars when you discovered he also loves space and the galaxy.

“Want to look at the stars?” Renjun looks at you and hands you the binocular. You nod your head while trying your best to not shake from the cold, but it is cold.

“Silly, forgot your scarf?” he unwinds his own blue silver knit scarf and steps closer to wrap it over you.

“What about you?” you feel worried about his condition. Renjun only shakes his head, “I wore warmer clothes. Also, you shouldn’t fall sick. You need to prepare for your O.W.L tomorrow. Just watch the sky.” He quickly changes the topic when he sees your annoyed face of bringing up O.W.L

You take his advice when he pushes your body to face the sky and you bring the object to your eyes. He was right, the night sky is always mysterious and calming, somewhere out there two of you believe another universe with aliens exists.

Renjun secretly watches you in admiration. He never expects to get this close with you, physically and mentally. By now, he knows your most embarrassing story, your favorite food, and your favorite star.

“Renjun! Quick make a wish!” you tug on his sweater and pull his hand when your eyes catch a shooting star.

Renjun is quick to realize your hand is still squeezing his arm, but he closes his own eyes and makes his own wish. You wish with all your might, things will be better for you and Renjun. You want him, you love him and basically, you’re so ready to risk everything just to get him. Creepy? No, that is love.

“So, what did you wish for?” he whispers near your ear, you see him shivering so you naturally take off the scarf and try your best to share it between both of you.

Renjun’s cheek blushed, “Didn’t think of that. You sure are smarter at things like that.”

You giggle “About your question, don’t you know a wish should remain secret or it won’t work.”

The young man scoffs, “You believe that?”

You nod “Well I thought you do too.”

Renjun smiles, “Fine. I will also keep mine.”

You can no longer hold back your yawn and you realize if both of you stay in this cold air, you’ll need to call in sick and that is not happening. Not when you need to catch up on all class materials.

“See you Injun-ah,” you wave as you drape the scarf back on him. He smells your sweet musk perfume and something tingles Renjun’s mind.

He remembers he had smelt that same hint of scent somewhere, but where. In confusion, the Ravenclaw walks back to his room. Only when his head hits his pillow does he finally remember where he encountered that smell. None other than that silly amortentia potion class. Take a whiff and you’ll know who that special person is.

“Tell me again how he always managed to find you?” Jaemin asks you about how Renjun always finds you. Both of you are sitting in the garden, taking a whiff of fresh air.

You sigh, you know you shouldn’t be telling him this, but you think Jaemin can keep secrets.

“He has a Marauder’s map.” You whisper under your breath.

Jaemin’s eyes lighten and his jaw drops. He really looks glowing with happiness like he won a lottery.

“(Y/n)~” his sing-song tone comes out and you mutter a curse under your breath. Oh no, he is going to ask you something. Which is true.

“Is it possible if you borrow the map from Renjun? Just for a second.” He pouts and draws random lines on your arm. You pull your hand away and slap his hand “What are you thinking? Go borrow by yourself.”

He drives his eyes to his feet, “I really need it, but I guess Renjun won’t let me borrow it.”

You scoff “You know it already. I never even touched it Jaem, it’s really precious after all.”

Jaemin, a total charmer, looks you in the eyes with his sickening puppy eyes “Please, I need it to meet Jeno secretly too! He seems tired but he is hiding it from us…”

“Your point?” you cut the crap out of him.

Jaemin smiles and you see his cunningness really popping up when he bribes you to help him “Point is, can you just take the map from him for a while and then I’ll use it to find Jeno, then you return it to him. Simple!”

You groan “How is that simple? That’s stealing!”

“Borrowing, just that he won’t realize it’s ever gone from his hand.” Jaemin shrugs his shoulder

“It’s not an honest game. You said ``borrow not steal and return.”

“Then try borrowing it from him, he doesn’t talk to me about the map so it’ll be weird if I ask him about that. He will be mad at you for spilling secrets and I know you love him so much.” He smirks, knowing that he won your internal battle.

You sigh, Jaemin really traps you in the mouse trap eh?

“Fine, let me try to borrow it from him. What will I get in return?”

“Woah you're so calculative! I thought we are friends and friends help each other?”

You really regret not joining Jeno to study with Renjun, this Slytherin man is really cunning… luring you to leave the library to “take in the fresh air” but ended up dealing with a dangerous project.

“Okay if you insist, I’ll say if the map worked, I’ll be able to accompany Jeno and he will be happier and you want to see Jeno happier right? Also you’re my best greatest courageous friend, isn’t this like a challenge?” he stares at you with great compassion plus hitting your chivalry ego and since no one is there to slap you, you nod your head.

“Okay Jaemin.” The Gryffindor spirit of not thinking about an action carefully is here.

Jaemin smirks and waves you goodbye after slipping a small tube of potion to your hand. He disappeared like that and you start to think of a way to talk with him about the map, while staring at disbelief for the Felix Felicis in your hand. Dang that Slytherin boy really is questionable.

You spend the afternoon thinking of a way to get Renjun’s map and you finally choose to ask him slowly.

“Renjun! What are the things you always keep in your bag?” you ask randomly but Renjun and you did this a lot of time, so he doesn’t smell your smoke.

He thinks for a while, “Nothing much, books and the map, some quills and chocolates? Why?”

You nod “It’s okay, just curious.”

He doesn’t pester you about it, only talking more about different things.

“Hey, tomorrow is Sunday. Mind to just sit and enjoy the day off? We sit in the fountain courtyard.”

Your brain finds a chance to take his map and so you nod your head.

--

You drop the Felix Felicis potion on your breakfast tea that Sunday morning and you meet Renjun who is looking so good in his casual outfit.

You’re nervous, though luck is favoring you, you are still battling yourself whether you should just snatch the map or ask him nicely.

After talking about different things and driving his attention to other things, you inch closer to Renjun and stare at his lips. Somehow your brain is focused on his lips and oh did you forget you took a potion this morning?? Because your silly head wants to kiss his lips so bad and luck is really on your side.

“Why are you staring at my lips? You really like them don’t you?” Renjun boldy asks, something so uncommon about him.

You gulp and blush, but your heart secretly wants to kiss him.

“Come here,” he pulls your hand closer and once your shoulder crashes with his, he kisses you right in the middle of the day when everyone can see you two sharing a slow kiss.

Your head almost stops working but suddenly Jaemin’s shadow appears in your mind and you quickly put your hand into Renjun’s bag. You didn’t know the lucky potion could be this wonderful because once your hand enters the bag you find the paper already.

Renjun was so focused on the kiss that he didn’t notice your hand slipping the map to your pocket. Only when you’re done did you finally break the kiss.

He blushes and you chuckle “That was intense.”

Yes the kiss was intense but the reason your heart beats super-fast is because of the action you just did. Stealing.

“I love you Renjun,” you whisper, feeling a bit sad for lying to him… but you don’t want to be embarrassed after what you did go well.

“I love you too, I didn’t know our feelings were mutual.” He innocently rubs his burning face and you want to die from lying with him.

“Renjun, sorry for suddenly leaving, but I have to go, I got something to do.” You stand up from the grounds.

“Huh? Oh okay I guess you look rushed.” He stands up too, “Where do you have to go? I can walk you there.”

You shake your head and reject his offer, “No, it’s personal. If you don’t mind, I’d rather go by myself. Bye Injun! See you!” you run away from him and disappear before he can even bid his farewell.

The ravenclaw just shrugs his shoulders and returns to his common room. When he kisses you earlier, he feels so fuzzy and fireworks are popping in his heart. As weird as it sounds, the kiss made him come up with a new imaginative creature.

Yes, Renjun is a ravenclaw who enjoys imaginative creatures. He is talented in drawing, so he spends his time sketching and naming creatures he has in his head. Though you may ask how a Ravenclaw believes in uncertain things with no concrete proof, Renjun has been hiding this guilty pleasure from anyone.

He hums as he sits on his chair and starts arranging his paints. The sun is angled perfectly at this time and he is more than excited to paint the new love creature he has in his mind.

On the other hand, you are running to meet Jaemin.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no goods.” You tap your wand and open the map to quickly find Jaemin.

There he is, somehow lurking in the dining hall. Weird.

You pocket the map and make your way to him.

“Use this quickly. I don’t know how long it takes for Renjun to notice.” You stuff the map into Jaemin’s pocket.

His eyes twinkle “Oh gosh you did it. You do this for me? Thank you!” he taps your shoulder and flies away “I’ll return it to you once I am done. Promise.”

You just wait for him with anxiety crawling in your heart. Something about stealing, lying, and using potion is just not settling well in your Gryffindor heart. You let out a deep breath, and relax a bit.

Only that it didn’t even last long and things are going downhill from here.

While you wait nervously in the dining room, you find yourself face to face with a fuming and disappointed Renjun. “You stole the map, didn’t you?!” he holds back all the anger inside to avoid reaching for your collar.

You gulp, of course he noticed. It’s been almost two hours. Couldn’t Jaemin find Jeno, bring Jeno to return the map to you then go disappear somewhere. Why should you wait for this long.

“I-“ you stutter “I’m sorry.” You apologize, your heart tells you lying more will just bring you to a deeper pit.

Renjun shakes his head, “You stole but I’m hurt you tricked me! Did you mean the kiss or not?”

Your eyes widened, he was just confused about the kiss? Oh how cute. You want to open your mouth, but it looks like the cat got your tongue again and Renjun was faster in assuming things when he is angry.

“You know what? I don’t care about your kiss, I don’t even care about your explanation. Give it back.” His palm opens up to you and you bite your lips “It’s not with me.”

His eyes would pop off from his head “You what? You lost it or gave it to someone?”

Damn Ravenclaws and their quick brains.

“I’ll give it back to you, I promise.” You reach out for his hand, but he snatches his hand away to his chest before you can appeal to him.

“You know what? I found it already.” He looks over your shoulder and sees Jaemin coming to you with a troubled face.

“And by the look of Jaemin’s face, I guess this is not my day.” Renjun sounds super sad and you hate yourself for actually starting all of this. He was in a super good mood earlier and you ruined everything. Now will you ruin your friendship too? and love interest.

You heard Jaemin apologizing (something so uncommon) about something and the next second, you don’t hear anything from Renjun’s lips, just an eerie silence between them and suddenly the man in blue sweater runs away from you and Jaemin.

“I may or may not have accidentally been caught by some other Slytherin, and they wanted to see the map. It ripped.” Jaemin mutters slowly and you feel your world has stopped turning and you should just leave Hogwarts before facing Renjun.

--

Renjun left both of you and there’s nothing you can do. There is, but your brain stops working and your Gryffindor heart cowers and runs away. You sit devastated on the ground and Jaemin copies you.

“We can try to fix this map,” Jaemin tries to cheer you up but you shake your head “We can’t. Even if we can, I don’t think the bond of our friendship can be fixed.” you pull your knees to your chest and put your chin on them

“I’ll find a way to fix this. I promise, I broke the map so let me take the blame for this.” Jaemin stands up with the ripped map and he casts the repair charm.

You just stare at it soullessly. Well the map did come back into one piece, but Renjun’s disappointment can’t leave your head.

“I am sorry (y/n).” Jaemin sincerely apologizes to you and you just hum a silent reply

“Look, I believe Renjun will forgive you. He might not forgive me, but I deserve this. This is not your fault. I made you trick him. I am the guilty one.” your best friend tries to cheer you up, but your mind keeps on thinking Renjun.

--

That young ravenclaw did come into dinner, well he has to as he’s the prefect. But when you leave your chair to tap his shoulder and talk with him, he already leaves with the big group and you find yourself alone, losing your chance.

You ask around where he is, and everyone says he’s in the prefect bathroom enjoying a long bath. You hate how he has a hideout you can’t come to. So, the only thing you can do is wait.

You think of ways to apologize and how he can forgive you. Should you do his chores? Should you do his essays? gosh no he’s smarter than you. Should you buy him some new paint and drawing books? He likes to draw right, but you bite your lips when you remember your allowance this month was finished for good when you bought that new broom.

You go to the toilet, and come back to ask where he is on a passing Ravenclaw, only to curse when they said he is already in the common room.

Great, now you really won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Hey (y/n), I handed him the map already and asked sorry.” Jaemin suddenly taps your shoulder when you are walking to your room.

You just nod “Lucky you, looks like he is not that disappointed at you. Must be because he is afraid you’d turn him into a frog.” you try to tease Jaemin but even your own joke doesn't taste good in your tongue.

Renjun tries his best to avoid you, or more likely avoid hearing your apology or explanation about what happened that day. It’s as if you’re a deadly plague! He did show up a couple of times to the group study meetups, but he never talks to you about anything other than asking your question about the lesson or when the boys ask him about his nerves about the test.

You feel sick from all of the studying, but most of your stress comes from Renjun’s constant ignorance towards you. He did talk to you about other things, he explained to you the lessons you’re still struggling with but he never speaks of that day as if it never happens. Though some people like that better and just brush it off, like Jaemin for example. You’re not satisfied with this. You need his real acceptance of apology or you can’t feel ease in your heart.

You tried all you can, sending him a message filled with handwritten apology, a chocolate of his favorite brand, a chocolate frog, some badly drawn apology painting, a poem, and even try to bring up the conversation whenever you meet but he always finds a way to smile and drive the topic to another thing.

His playful gaze can still be felt by you and he still helps you occasionally in classes you struggle in. He even helps until the last days of the O.W.L test and the guilt in your heart is just piling up.

--

“Good luck on your O.W.L '' Renjun one night smiles at you after cleaning up the books and quills. You gasp “Thank you, you too and Renjun I am sorry.” you finally get the chance to utter your apology intimately without anyone else near you.

Renjun sighs “You’re still sad about that?” you bite your lips and nod “I can’t take it off my head.” The man in blue robes chuckles and messes your hair “Silly. Stop worrying about that. Just focus on your studies okay so that you can pass this O.W.L” you turn red from his action, heart beating super fast upon seeing his cute smile and hand touching your head.

“Alright, I need my sleep. You go to bed too okay, see you for breakfast tomorrow.” he tucks a hair away from your face and bops your nose. You see him walk away after saying good night and when you want to go to your room, you notice a blue scarf he left on the chair.

“Renjun forgot this.” you wrap it around your neck because you have lots of stuff to bring back and slowly you walk to your room, enjoying how his scent softly brushes your nose when the wind is blowing in your direction. You feel calm now that Renjun told you not to worry about it and seeing how he’s back to playing with your hair makes you feel less guilty.

“I’ll return this tomorrow,” you mumble to yourself only to wrap it tighter to your neck when you sleep.

--

The O.W.L this year is nerve consuming and stressful. You and the other students are all squeezed and no one is having their energy other than studying, eating and sleeping. You’ve talked less with the boys, you’re busy isolating yourself in the study room or just in the garden to study and focus on yourself. You also forget about Renjun’s scarf and he seems to forget it too, judging by how he is using another scarf.

All of you made it through the excruciating exam and finally you’re packing your suitcase.

“Are you ready to go home?” Jeno puts his face into your face on the morning of the beginning of the holiday. You have a beaming smile on your face and you happily hug him “Thank you for your help! I did my O.W.L nicely because of your help!” Jeno only chuckles and laughs at your remarks. He only plays with your hair and pushes you away only for you to hit Jaemin’s chest and the cheeky guy is not ready to catch you. You close your eyes, preparing yourself to hit the hard ground and be embarrassed for the rest of the year in Hogwarts, but you didn’t hit the ground. You open your eyes and see Jaemin already standing next to Jeno, eyes running through the hall as he winks and waves his hand to the passing students. So, who is holding you?

“Hoah easy Jeno, you pushed her too hard!” A soft voice you missed. A voice that sounds so cute when he whines or complains. A voice that has been whispering all day all night in your head. Renjun.

“Renjun! Sorry.” you brush yourself as you stand up and tidy your looks. Suddenly feeling conscious if you’ll look good. Renjun smiles, he has his trunk by his hand too, looks like every one of us is going home this Christmas.

“It’s great to see you before the long holiday, (y/n)!” Renjun pushes a small smile and you are busy reaching into your backpack for something. “I need to return this! You left it in the library last time.” you hand Renjun the neatly folded blue scarf which surprises him. “Oh it’s with you! I thought I lost it.”

You laugh “Sorry, I forgot to return it to you.” you extend your arm to him. Renjun quickly takes the scarf and opens it, the next thing you know is that he inches closer to you, wraps the scarf softly on your neck and his lips hover above your own lips. When you look into his orbs, you see how he’s waiting for your permission and while Renjun still has his hand holding on to the scarf on your neck, you close your eyes and feel him pull you by the scarf and seal your lips with a long quiet kiss.

You feel butterflies in your stomach as he gently keeps his hands moving to secure your neck and your heart is thumping so hard.

“I forgive you, go enjoy your Christmas.” Renjun sincerely laughs and kisses your cheek “So, from today is it day one?”

You nod “Day one!” Your heart feels light, the heavy guilty feeling in your heart is gone, his kiss shows how he is not angry at you and you feel his passionate and sincere desire to have you as his significant other.

Jeno and Jaemin pretend they don’t see both of you, just waving their hands to any passing students, telling them to send owls, saying they’ll see them next year and all the season greetings.

“Alright, my train is leaving love. I’ll see you next year. Send me an owl , okay!” Renjun pinches your cheek that’s super red from his sudden actions. You just have a big smile on your face as you nod and wave “See you soon!”

Jeno and Jaemin help you put your stuff into the car your brother has sent to pick you up. You thank the boys, hugging them for being here with you through ups and downs and you’ve made peace with Jaemin. That guy promised you he’ll bring you back your favorite candy from his hometown.

As you sit down in your car, head looking back to the majestic and mystical castle, you smile when you remember how Renjun pulls you into a very sweet kiss and that’s enough to show you how he’s not mad or disappointed at you. You were overthinking, but that’s you. That’s something about your gryffindor heart, always wanting to be responsible for your faults and it feels good to finally see Renjun saying he forgave you already.

Magic and love. Might work side to side, might not. Whichever that is the potion or your attitude, Renjun loves you the way you love him too and that’s what matters.

end

[shreddedleopard]

Thoughts on chapter 137, and why it makes complete sense and cements the themes and lessons of Attack on Titan.

I have so many thoughts, I just want to word vomit them out at a million miles an hour, but I’ll try to do this in some sort of order and not my usual chaotic mess.

Attack on Titan is about family and belonging, and THIS is the dream that Ymir was drunk on. This is ‘that scenery.’

Ymir, the founder, just wants to belong somewhere. With someone. She wants to be loved and valued as a person, not as a slave; not as someone who merely fulfils a role. In the latest chapter, Zeke explains how he failed to understand her, but Eren did.

Look at Eren’s words to Ymir in this moment, several chapters earlier:

All Ymir has ever wanted is to be held. To be loved like a person. To feel that connection because of who she is, not the role she fulfils.

Eren understands this, in contrast to Zeke, who once again tries to impose her role upon her:

Ymir has been hanging around in paths all this time, unable to fully die and let her consciousness pass on to the next world, because she needs to find this thing that she’s been searching for since the start of the story.

It’s not just about romantic love. It’s about connection. That sense of being understood and belonging with someone else, whether that be romantically, platonically, as family ... we keep seeing the same theme brought up throughout the entire manga.

Who else is a character that constantly searches for the same thing? Mikasa.

She has so many parallels and yet also opposites with Ymir. Ymir is told she is a slave, she obeys the king, that is her role. And she accepts it. Because she believes that it’s the only way to find happiness; to find this belonging she’s been craving. However, unlike Ymir, who does not truly love the king, I believe that Mikasa does truly love Eren - what form that takes doesn’t necessarily matter to me at this point. It’s just about connection.

Whether Eren feels the same, tragically for him, doesn’t matter. Because Eren knows he is destined to be the one to end the cycle of hatred and free Ymir. And that will ultimately cost him his life. That is why, when Zeke asks him what he will do about Mikas’s affections - which have nothing to do with her bloodline and everything to do with him - Eren cannot answer. That choice has sadly been taken from him.

When Eren asks Mikasa what she is to him, I think he genuinely wants to know at that point. I think he cares about her so deeply and wants to know she feels the same way, and it’s not just about him being ‘her saviour’. But as we’ve seen before, Eren cannot afford to stop for too long and dwell in the moment, because he must push on towards freedom - the freedom of Ymir and the Eldian people from the curse of the Titans.

This brings his conversation around the table with Armin, Mikasa and Gabi into a whole new light. Eren insults his friends in an attempt to push them away from him - because he knows he won’t be around to live that ‘long, happy life’ with them. So instead, he wants to push them to confront their feelings in the arms of others. He pushes Armin to really consider what Annie means to him, and for Mikasa, I believe that Eren intends her to perhaps look towards Jean, who is truly willing to give her the love she has always sought from Eren. Because again, so tragically, Eren will not be around to provide that for her - regardless of whether it’s something he wants or not. His own wishes no longer matter on the path he has been set upon.

Back to Ymir. Eren tells her, he will put an end to this world:

He doesn’t mean the human world; the living world. He means the world of paths, where Ymir is trapped, unable to let go of the souls of dead Eldians, because she’s still searching for that connection she craves so much. Her paths world is an attempt to quell that feeling of loneliness she’s been plagued with, but ironically, she’s more lonely than ever, stuck there, serving the bloodline she’s created from a place of misery and duty, rather than love.

The rumbling and the destruction of Marley is a very tragic consequence of what Eren has to do to put an end to the curse of the Titans. He’s searched for another way to no avail; we’ve seen his remorse when he apologises to Halil or Ramsey in chapter 131:

I think the anger and devastation that’s unleashed in the rumbling, is a result of the hurt and mistreatment both Eren and Ymir have felt at points in their lives.

Eren understands that to destroy the paths realm, first this devastation is necessary, because he’s seen it in his future memories, despite the conflicting feelings it’s evoked from him - he doesn’t really want to destroy humanity outside of the walls, but his own future is telling him that he must and he will. But it’s not Eren’s emotions that drive this initial destruction - it is Ymir’s. These emotions are no different in nature than the ones that Eren felt in response to Armin’s childhood bullies - that sense of unfairness and need to lash out at oppressors - but tragically, unlike Eren who in that moment of intense, irrational emotion had only his fists to vent and release, Ymir is in possession of one of the most terrible and destructive weapons there is - hordes of colossal Titans. And in that moment where Eren finally gives her that validation she has been searching for, and allows her that feeling of release from the duty she’s felt she needed to fulfil for thousands of years, Ymir releases that frustration and anger too and sends them walking.

This theme of the oppressor and oppressed switching places in an endless cycle of revenge and stealing from others what has been stolen from you is a theme that we see repeated throughout not only the AOT manga, but also soundtrack and additional content too.

Eren was right that it would be Armin that saves humanity - because Armin is the one that makes the connection in paths - he understands what is being shown to him with the leaf - and tragically, it actually highlights how, even up until the very end, Eren and Armin knew each other very well. Eren trusted Armin to make sense of what he’s had to do - even if it’s only Ymir that he understands, because while Eren is the one to give Ymir her freedom and unleash this terrible devastation, Armin is the one who must stop it.

But how does this idea of family and connection tie in to the rest of the events in the chapter, and wider manga, and what’s up with Historia’s pregnancy? And how is paths going to be destroyed, if the rumbling has been stopped and Ymir is free, but the Titans are still around?

This is where the rest of our cast fit in - namely Zeke, Levi, Historia and Reiner. If my theory is correct.

Eren gave Ymir the validation she needed and that sense of connection, freeing her from her role, and this bought that final bit of time needed for Historia to give birth to her child. Why is Historia’s child important? Because it is the ‘new dawn’ we’ve seen foreshadowed repeatedly throughout the series. The birth of a new history. And this comes in the form of a new bloodline, no longer infected with ‘parasite’ of the founding Titan.

Unlike Ymir’s bloodline, which stemmed from a place of duty and slavery - as she was ordered by the king to take ‘his seed’, and carried the parasite of the creature that bound to her within the depths of the tree, creating the paths realm and an almost purgatory type space free of death or heaven or earth or anything, Historia’s bloodline will be ‘cleaned’ because of the genes of the child’s father. And not only this, it will be born out of a moment of love and connection, rather than duty. This new combination will make it impossible for a child of the royal bloodline to become a Titan. There will be no coordinate - no link for Ymir from her paths realm to the living world, because the last link to her bloodline - a Titan with royal blood - will no longer exist.

This really brings home the gravity of the moment where Levi cuts Zeke down - he’s the last of the royal Titans, but the reader knows Historia’s baby is about to be born - will they inherit the Titan, and the cycle will re-start?

They will not. The cycle will be broken with them, because - and here’s where it gets wild - Historia’s child is not a Fritz, or a Reiss - they are an Ackerman. They physically cannot turn.

Why does all this fit in symbolically? Let me draw your attention to the genre of Seikaikei.

Attack on Titan uses this idea with our two Ackermans.

We have both endings. Eren and Mikasa, our bittersweet ending, where Eren ultimately chooses the fate of humanity over his relationships with Mikasa and Armin, and Levi, who, in a moment of selfishness, allows himself to put aside his role for a night - probably at the railroad banquet, where he was supposed to be making sure the likes of Eren and Yelena were kept apart - and indulges in this connection that he’s formed with Historia. You can read my 10 reasons post if you want to for why the heck I would think these two would form a deep bond - it’s all there in the Uprising Arc. They have been the same as Ymir - yearning for a sense of love and connection, but bound by roles neither of them asked for or particularly wanted - reluctant heroes comes to mind. Remember how freckled Ymir’s parting wish was for Historia to live for herself?

The result is an accidental pregnancy which, ironically enough, is what is going to annihilate the curse of the Titans and save the world. How poetic that the Titans will not be ‘driven out’ by hate, violence, and destruction, but instead by love, connection and new life.

Remember Kenny and Uri’s miracle?

Kenny and Uri’s chapter, ‘Friends’, was exactly halfway back into the manga. History moves in repeating cycles in AOT, and we see things change slightly each time, on this journey to freedom. At this point, the Ackermans and royals were one step away from where they needed to get to in order to build this paradise - and Levi and Historia complete the cycle by becoming ‘lovers,’ tragically, the thing that Eren and Mikasa could not become, because Eren had to undertake the rumbling and be the one to free Ymir from her sorrow and loneliness. She can make the choice now - will she fight to be reborn as Historia’s child - fight for dominance with the Ackerman bloodline - or will she concede, finally laid to rest because the cycle has been broken by two people that love one another, just like the couple Ymir saw long ago and wished for.

Remember how Eren asked Zeke whether the ackermans act the way they do from a place of duty or genuine feelings? He needed to check it was the real deal that would break the curse, and finally lay Ymir to rest peacefully, after 2,000 years of hatred and searching. She will see that her descendant, Historia, finally has what she always dreamed of. That idea of dreams pushing us onwards - Ymir’s dream is realised through Historia and Levi.

As for the parasite itself? I believe Reiner will be the one to lock it in a Crystal prison with himself, deep underground.

A new dawn will come, and a new world will be built from the ashes of the old.

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 1 (A Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Summary:

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

Or

A chance encounter reunites two lost lovers centuries after their devastating break up. One hardened by life and providence, has forgotten what it is to love and be loved; while the other though hurt by love, has lost neither hope nor heart. When the two worlds collide once again, will it be disaster waiting to happen, or the brink of a new horizon?

Or

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

But you know that I could never stay.

No amount of love or the ring you put on my finger will ever change that.

Save it. Save it for another that will be dearest to your heart, someone who could love you equally, unconditionally, honestly.

For I am underserving. I have much in my life that I wish I could explain to you. Yet this back has been carrying far more that it was made to shoulder already. And I cannot possibly burden you with anymore than you deserve.

So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.

To spend a lifetime with you.

Body and soul.

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying in futile to calm the anguish that was threatening to leak out of his body.

For a moment, he thought his dead heart was ready to burst anytime. But of course his heart had long since ceased its beating, and It had only left with him an equally terrible sense of emptiness.

Why had he decided to go over this again? To rip open scars that were long buried. Old memories that he should long have concealed, lost somewhere in the ocean of his long pitiful existence. He thought he’d be over this by now, after the millionth time. But clearly some things never truly die away.

With care he produced from a small velvet pouch-

A single diamond ring.

It glittered under the moon, splaying the light of a million rainbow everywhere it touched.

Just like how her eyes had shone that day.

When he got down on one knee and proposed to her.

Her mouth agape, lips quivering, staring at him in shock and disbelief. His stomach had churned then when she had simply stood there, dumbfounded; worried that he had taken a wrong move, that she did not love him enough to want to be tied down with him. That perhaps he was still too young, too poor to offer her the life that she deserved.

But then a single tear had dropped from her eyes.

And it was followed by another, and another.

He was thrown in a panic by then, unsure of the mistake he had committed but ready to make any amend just to stop the onslaught of her tears.

Except she had then tackled him to the ground, laughing amidst her tears. Murmuring into his ears, the answer that had only mattered to him.

Yes, yes, yes.

She had kissed him so ferociously that day, stealing his breath away as if she herself would be stolen away the next moment.

A thousand times yes.

And stolen she was indeed.

Left alone in the cold morning light, sheets crumpled from the night they had shared, her scent still lingering in the air. His heart had froze, left with only an emptiness that would rage within him for the next two centuries.

She had only left with him a note and her wedding ring.

Hers. Not his; because he could not tolerate the thought of it being anything else.

And an everlasting memory that would haunt him for the rest of eternity. An aching want and need, a desire left unsaid in the dead of the night.

In those terrible formative years, when he had just been turned, night after nights he would imagine the ghost of a lip, tracing up his spine. Warm breaths at his neck; the touch of a hand, cupping his face gently, as if he were made of glass. Sweet-nothings whispered, empty promises of a life that could have been, might have been. Except none of them were real and every one of which only a figment of his imagination and memory.

Some night he would go on a killing spree, desperate to escape from memories of her that had long since turned into a never-ending nightmare, his raging storm of emotions.

A century and a half later, there were still nights like these, nights where he would meticulously finger the exquisite cravings over her engagement ring. Her name a silent mantra, a prayer from his mouth to the gods he had once worshipped and forsaken.

The pain had dampen over the years but the scars had remained. And the memories still fresh. New companionship may have eased him out of his shell of sorrow. But while he may hold another in his arms now, how could he love anyone in half? When he had long since given away half of his soul to the one who had claimed as hers on that fateful day.

But that was another story for another day.

And his pitiful being could not bear the grief all at once on any given nights; it was alright to remember in portions and halves. That way he would not lose his mind to the remembrance of her then. The one he had lost but must continue to solider on without.

“Oh Adeline.”

“My sweet Adeline, why must you torture me so?”

*

On the run.

It seemed she was always on the run these days.

No permanent roof ever above her head; even the feeling of a soft pillow and a down quilt seemed foreign to her now. She was more familiar with green moss beneath her head and the stars as her canopy; clothes she snagged from stores, and meals of little preys here and there now. She was always careful not to leave a trace.

Stopping over at the riverbed to cleanse her dusty face; she mulled over her circumstances.

Family they- he, her father had called her.

And yet it was also him who made her life a living hell.

Always asking, always demanding for a hand, a chore to be done, her duties to him as her father, mentor, creator. And when she could not tolerate his iron fist of a control, she did the only thing she was good at.

She ran.

Companionship. Father had told her once. No one can live for long without companionship.

She would’ve proved him wrong then. Scoffed at him. Told him that creatures like them did not deserve anything but misery, and least of all a hint of humanity. Only humans crave company; they had sinned far too much to be deserving of any.

How much blood must be spilled, to satisfy his want for his so called companionships?

But even at times, she had been tempted. A short stay in a town, a job, an education, a short fling. Mindless chatters, a warm embrace to fall asleep to at night. Anything to make herself forget just for awhile how different she was, how she could never blend in with anyone. How over the years she had lost so much, she thought she might as well have lost her heart.

Except her strange family. Whom she completely despised. Mostly.

Ah how she missed those good old days. That one summer when everything was golden and life was simple; the scorching Texan sun, the swaying wheat fields, the straw thatch cottage and its warm hearth and Hettie’s hearty soups, Ralph’s incessant chatter. And those gentle brown eyes and that mop of flaxen hair, shining like golden peat in the summer sun-

She would not let her mind wander there now.

Lock the doors and throw away the key.

She needed to stay vigilant. Her family were not the only ones she was running from. There were more dangerous and mysterious beings out there, ones she did not dare cross. Every little shift in the air, whiff of smell was a signal to her instinct. Even a falling leave could be a sign of the things to come. And right now they were telling her to head north, pass the borders, and into the Canada. There would be ample food and her family would not think to look for her there. In time, she might be able to join a small community, live a life for a little while before moving on to the next.

Keep inland, you’ll be safe. Her instinct whispered.

But she wanted to see the ocean. And the Pacific Northwest coast was a marvel. She knew of a coven near the peninsula; but surely if she stayed to herself, she should be able to cross into Vancouver without a hitch?

Keep inland.

Keep inland.

Keep inland.

Her instinct only whispered on.

It was the scent she came across first.

The sweet invigorating smell of vanilla and washed linen, that of a babe’s. She froze unnaturally amidst her stroll; this was not the scent of a human, it was… it reminded her of her siblings. Of her kind.

Turnawayturnawayturnaway-

But curiosity got the better of her.

Surely, just surely, a glimpse would not hurt. There shouldn’t be any out there like her. None of the old kinds had the knowledge of… Father had confirmed of this. Or was he mistaken?

And as she tracked the child’s scent; she came into a large clearing of blooming heathers, yet not even the overwhelming floral scent could overpower the child’s scent.

There in the gleaming sun was a child of twelve or thirteen, bronze curls flowing in the air as she twirled around in peals of laughter. Her porcelain skin illuminated; and her heart was thrumming like a little hummingbird.

‘It cannot be.’ She whispered to herself in a daze.

Gasping, the child turned towards her at once, clearly finally discovering that she was alone no more. Initially agitated, the child was quick to drop her caution when she noted how the stranger was still in a trance, staring agape at her. Nor did she miss the equally alluring scent of the intruder, her soft glowing skin and the quick humming of her heart.

Timidly, the child shuffled towards her eyeing her with curiosity. Until the two were face to face each other, apprising the other.

“Are you perhaps…” Like me? Was the unvoiced question.

“Dear God, Child.” She finally found the strength within to muster a few shaky breaths of words, disbelief evidently dominating her countenance. “How is this possible?”

With shaking hands she cupped the child’s cheeks, tenderly stroking the smoothness of her cheeks and soaking up the warmth.

“What of your maker?” She swallowed thickly. “Is he treating you well, Child?”

“Do you mean my Mum and Dad, Miss?” The child furrowed her pretty brows. “They should be just around I think. If you would like to meet them…”

That broke her out of her trance and she immediately straightened her stance. This was dangerous, she was treading on thin ice. A child like her kind would not be left unguarded, her guardians were nearby and no doubt treasured her greatly, judging from her clean attire and priciness of her garments. Any contact would be deemed a threat. She had already overstayed her welcome. And she did not want a fight. Sure she was quick and escaping and hiding had always been a forte of hers, but should she engage in battle, there was no telling if she could even gain upper hand long enough for her to run.

“I must go.” She muttered gravely to the child.

“Wait Miss!” The child chirped in a sing-song manner, unaware of the gravity of the situation. “I’m sure Mum and Dad will be delighted to meet you! And grandpa he-“

Shit. Was this the coven Father had mentioned before?

The idea of meeting an entire coven made her stomach churn. She did not quite understand how the child had come to be, nor did she understand how the Volturi would allow such a coven to exist in plain sight. And she did not intend to find out.

“Child. Child!” She hissed, surveying her surrounding in caution now. “Listen, you must take care. There are people out there who will harm you without a thought or a blink. You must be careful, don’t be so trustworthy of any strangers now.”

She looked the child dead in the eye then.

“Not even me.”

“But you didn’t hurt me! I know you wouldn’t! And aren’t we the same?” The child pleaded imploringly.

“No, not even your kind. And certainly not me.” She smoothed the child’s hair gently and tucked them behind her ear. “Trust no one. Not even your makers.”

“That’s just sad then.” The child replied solemnly.

She stood up and straightened her jacket. “Well, it's a sad and pitiful existence that we lead, Child.” She smiled bitterly then and turned to go. “One day you’ll know.”

She was just about to run when she felt a tuck at her sleeves. Turning sharply, she eyed the child in confusion.

“My name’s Renesmee, Miss. What’s yours?”

She grimaced slightly; well so much for telling the child off, she mused.

“Adeline, my name’s Adeline, Child.”

In hindsight, Adeline really should have seen the attack coming. Her instincts had been screaming at her the whole time after all.

But in a moment of distraction, she had heeded her instincts too late. She did manage to subdue the attack at her jugular with a block, but was still hurled halfway across the clearing. Twisting her body, she managed to land in a crouch; eyes trained on her attacker. He was a strong built man- vampire, tall and handsome, the usual package. And she was surprised to find his eyes golden, not that there was much time to marvel at it. His crouching stance indicated that he was ready for battle and he bared his fangs at her, guarding his child protectively

“Stay away from my daughter.” He growled.

Adeline couldn’t help but rolled her eyes. “That, I had every intention of doing.”

“Stop! Dad! Stop!” She could hear the child- Renesmee crying in the distance. But there was no time for that now.

Leftleftleftleftleft-

Turning to her left, she kicked a pouncing werewolf right in the gut, slamming it into a nearby tree. Right. And then threw a punch at the female vampire that was ready to lunge at her right. Down. Blocked another blow. Shoulder. Landed a hit on shoulder of the she-vampire. Duck. Barely escaped from the wolf’s pouncing attack. Roll. And managed to withdraw herself from the fighting two.

With a final glance at the father and child; Adeline focused her mind in concealing herself before darting out of the clearing.

Promising to herself to avoid the Pacific Northwest at all cost from now on. Wary of the rest of the coven she would find there.

Not to mention the wolves.

And that was how Adeline came across the Cullens for the very first time.

[phandompenny]

Tag Yourself but it’s Mertens Fic Recs

Mertens ( @cherryflavoredtrasheater​ ) writes a lot of fanfiction, and I love a lot of it. This creates a problem, as I try to have many different authors on rec lists but can't rec Mertens fic quickly enough. So here's the solution! Tag yourself as a Mertens fic, and give it a read (and maybe a few others)!

The Dinner Party

You hate playing those games like Mafia or Among Us because everybody thinks you're suspicious no matter what you do, but you're actually innocent!

A social circle can be you and your two friends, why get more complicated than that?

You get stressed about little details very easily

Sometimes people laugh at the stuff you say and call you clever and funny, but you don't know how you've fooled them into thinking this

Your loved ones? You will fight for them! You will DIE for them! but that gives you the right to make fun of them (lovingly, of course)

Tread Softly (The Cloths of Heaven Series)

You feel sad about falling out of touch with that one friend you met six years ago and really hit it off with. should you message them? no, that'd probably be rude.

You just want the simple things in life. To curl up with a blanket and a book and a warm cup of tea. Maybe a hand to hold.

You've been called the mom/dad/parental friend

It's possible you listen to ASMR

You have anxiety

The Opera Rat Really Did Exist (Rat AU Series)

You say things sometimes just to see how people react

So much drama just flies over your head and you don't understand any of it

You have a solid friend circle that you make content for and ignore the rest of the world. On your stage, you're a star.

You're very attached to some small trinkets, worthless in all eyes but yours

me? do a bad thing? NEVER!

A Love There Is No Cure For (Sonnet 86 Series)

You don't always think things through, and it causes trouble

You're unnecessarily dramatic

Chest pains? Yeah but those are normal why would I need to see a doctor?

You put a lot of thought into gifts you give people

Your best friendships are all with people you've had huge fallings out with, and after making up your relationship became stronger than ever

The Naming of Cats is a Difficult Matter

You like Cats (the musical)

I thought about just leaving it there but that might make people not read this so there's more don't leave

You make promises you can't keep, but with only the best of intentions

You are a creature of habit, and these habits are things others find baffling

You've pulled an all nighter before. At least one, probably several.

You can be responsible but that doesn’t mean you WANT to be

The Phantom of the West Tower

You're really sweet, once people get to know you! But you're also shy and hate introducing yourself

You blend in well with the crowd

You have actual plans for your future and are working towards them. I respect you.

You feel certain there shouldn't be a conflict between humanities and sciences, people can be interested in more than one thing guys! That's where creativity lies!

You're probably a genius but are too modest to recognize it

Je ne te comprends pas

You've travelled a lot

You're not afraid to learn new things, even if they seem hard!

You have no idea how to flirt and you don't really need to know how, right? surely you can just. TALK to whoever you're interested in

That said, you’re totally in love with somebody important to you and don't know how to tell them

You stand your ground in a fight, but you're quick to apologize when you've done something wrong

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

You're comfortable with your life choices that brought you here

The exception to the above point is that one embarrassing thing you did in front of a stranger that haunts you to this day

You occasionally get bad migraines

You're willing to come up with “creative solutions” if it's for the greater good.

You have absolutely no ability to tell if people are flirting.

Tiny Maestro (Gremlin AU Series)

You don't know many things and at this point are too afraid to ask

You are incredibly up to date on the latest memes and idk, Tik Tok dances? I'm not one of you and cannot comprehend your mind

To you, love is being able to be with somebody despite their weird quirks. Because they're worth it.

On the downside, you can be stubborn. On the upside, you're usually right.

I fear you more than anybody else on this list

[myintention-s]

What happened to make you realize god is real if you don’t mind

Before I get into it, just know this will not all be just about God and religion etc, but for a reason. so hope you stick it through and read through it all.

I’ve only ever prayed at one point three times in my life, each time was at my darkest. Times I was too heartbroken to even stand up straight . Times I felt suicidal and unworthy of living, where I felt like my only option was to pray. And each time I was blessed with what I needed and almost asked for but in a way I didn’t realize sooner. If that makes sense. I asked and begged for help and got what I knew in my heart I was too afraid to ask for.

The further I stand away from God - I notice that is also when I feel worse. Meaning more depressed, bad thoughts I can’t control and an overwhelming feeling of darkness. That’s when I feel like I have no purpose, and it can be difficult to remain close to something you cannot physically see everyday. Believe me.

Like I said, I’m not the most religious. I don’t pray everyday and I still have moments of doubt. But every time I doubt - a new reason to not kinda slaps me in the face.

And the feelings are overwhelming enough I can’t ignore them even if I wanted to. Physically I can feel it when I stop living for THIS world for a moment.

I think a lot has to do with how open you decide to be to feel these things. And to not believe there’s something bigger than us makes us egotistic. nothing good comes from being egotistic.

you can say it’s science instead, and you believe in science. Which I do to an extend also. But science can only explain so much up until the point where energy and atoms were created. From nothing to something. You know bees can do math? they literally understand math formulas which help them explain to other bees the location of a new spot to build a hive. Tell me how on earth can a brain the size of my finger tip even do that?? It’s a fact google it.

The way I believe in God is different than what I think was always taught though. I think we were never told the truth so it’s only up to us to figure it out for ourselves. I don’t think he sits in a cloud in heaven and below is a fiery hell. And that you need to be a perfect being to get to heaven. I believe in dimensions, angels, and one above you.

Both good and dark angels, or spirits. And if there’s a God there’s bad energy too, and that being the angel of darkness. I think there’s such a thing of a spiritual world in a dimension we cannot see, but it’s happening around us everyday.

There’s too many books, movies, etc retold in a different way to depict this. I also feel like “heaven”, “hell,” are all on earth. But in a different dimension.

And the bad that happens to good people is not because of God, but because of the darkness. Innocent kids, even innocent puppies and animals. but they are in a better spot after than the earth we know.

I believe aliens exist too, but in a way where alien means anything other than human. Spirits, angels, space creatures, etc.

I could go on and on about what I believe especially these other dimensions bc I find them most interesting but I’ll leave it at that, and I’ll also say nothing you believe is too crazy too be true, everything is possible. If you can think it, it exist. We physically cannot think of things that do not exist. Almost like a dream. They say everyone you see in your dream you have met at one point in your life, they aren’t made up. We cannot make things up that do not exist even if it sounds insane. Literally how can we? How is that even possible? So time travel is true, demons are true, parallel universes are true. Truth is stranger than fiction.

I think the future and past along with Parallel universes are all existing at the same time right now. Like portals have been opened.

To think that we are the only ones to exist all due to a Big Bang theory of chance is crazy. There’s others, there’s things that have had the technology we have now 200 million years ago. we live in the stone ages compared to what they live in now. and they being whatever you believe in, and I told you what it is I believe in.

I think there’s humans on earth that aren’t humans, like what we know humans to be.

I think there’s things more threatening or I should say things that are meant to keep more secret at the bottom of the ocean than space.

Again, I think we are messing with a timeline we have ever known, and living in the past, future, and simultaneously a parallel universe. All at once. At the same time.

Time doesn’t exist anyway.

I believe in the opposite of whatever the government says. Because the government is ruled by beings unlike you and I. and only have their self best interest at heart.

There’s proof that 9/11 is a lie - people died sadly yes but intentional due to your government.

If the government starts to say ufo’s and aliens exist, after years of denying it, they’re twisting it to fit their own story for a reason to cover something up. To work for their benefit.

I can have high talks sober - i rambled tf out of this and could go on but hope it all makes sense and hope you enjoyed it somewhat lol

Nothing we can see is real and everything we can’t is what’s true.

I probably sound crazy but that’s okay I rather sound a little crazy than be conformed to a world we only chill at for a small duration of time.

[luxekook]

THE SEVEN || prologue

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: supernatural au with action, angst, smut, and (trace amounts of) fluff

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader fights to survive, attracts a powerful group of demons, and causes general mayhem in a post-apocalyptic new world

⇥ word count: 1.5k

⇥ warnings: nc17, *this fic has scenes of graphic violence*, demons, bloodshed, anarchy, general apocalyptic things, cursing, eventual poly relationship, a made-up language, hints of desire to own, brief mention of abuse, an attempt at world-building

⇥ beta reader: heathy @shadowsremedy​​ - thank u so much!!! i was holding off on beginning this fic for so long, and you really helped me move forward! uwu<3

Prologue

The world has completely gone to shit, I think to myself as my blade slices right through my opponent’s eye. The responding roar of the crowd reinforces that thought as the lifeless body slumps to the ground.

Removing my bloodied knife from the man at my feet, I stand, exhaustion kicking in after yet another adrenaline-fueled fight. Gazing out at the surrounding crowd of humans and demons, I narrow my sights on tonight’s guests of honor – the seven demons who would decide if my performance was deemed worthy enough of payment.

Raising my chin in defiance, my eyes meet those of the pompous greed demon of the Ahgase Seven. Lim Jaebeom lounges on a provisional throne flanked by his six brothers. Their combined beauty is ethereal but leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. 

How is it that creatures so prone to evil can be so lovely to look at?

After glancing briefly at each brother, I finally make eye contact with Jackson Wang, the Ahgase’s pride demon. He inclines his head with a satisfied smirk, simultaneously permitting my payment and ordering my swift dismissal.

The callous disregard of my efforts never fails to ignite a familiar burn of fury within me. I fight to the death to earn a week’s worth of food and shelter, and all I get is a fucking nod in response? Complete and utter bullshit if you ask me.

My teeth grind together as I give the slightest and stiffest bow possible in the Ahgase Seven’s general vicinity and stalk out of the Pit. Reminding myself that I actively choose this fate never really helps, given that the alternatives are equally as shit – if not more-so.

Basically, since the planet lost three-fourths of its population in the Reaping, the old capitalistic way of the world is no longer. Now, the main ways to survive deal with what you have to offer as a resource – your body, your skill, your labor, your loyalty. I choose to fight because, for me, it’s the soundest option.

My prior life had been sketchy at best. I had taught Krav Maga, a form of aggressive self-defense and reflexive fighting, to teens and young adults. I also had used Krav Maga (and other more nefarious methods) on abusive parents or guardians, bullies, or romantic partners - the very reasons my students came to my classes.

My resulting ambiguously gray background probably had influenced heaven and hell’s decisions to leave me behind. Still, killing hadn’t come easy for me in the beginning, but now it seems like second nature. In this new era, there are no rules, no moral codes, no winners, no losers. There are only survivors.

And I’ll be damned if I am not one of them.

Last year, the Reaping left us all in chaos and confusion. The supernatural had become natural. Heaven took those deemed worthy and let Hell deal with the rest. But, as it turns out, Hell was just as picky.

For a few days, demons ruthlessly reaped millions of humans and dragged them below the earth. And then the reaping stopped. The humans that remained were left with burned cities, abandoned homes and a complete absence of law. They were a ruthless bunch with questionable backgrounds and ambiguous morals. It honestly made sense that they were left behind – myself included.

The short period after the Reaping brought with it a general mayhem which resulted in looting, fires, and general destruction. The remainder of society was bare-boned, with only the richest areas having luxuries like running water and electricity. I referred to this time period – the lull before the demon Sevens took over – as the pseudo-Hunger Games. I legit had to pull a full Katniss Everdeen in order to stay alive during those two weeks.

Then, finally, the demons rose again.

The demons that rose were power-hungry and desperate to prove themselves worthy to rule over the New Earth. They looked human until you got too close and felt the negative energy that emanated from them. It's almost a built-in warning for those lower on the metaphorical food-chain not to get close to a source of potential harm.

By possessing a demon of each sin category, Sevens were able to bond together and max out their powers. Often, Sevens took on courts and consorts to siphon additional power, but my intel on demons was mostly built on speculation and rumors. The general consensus seemed to be that humans joined demon factions because of the promise of protection, food, and other resources. However, no one usually survived leaving a faction led by a Seven once they had declared fealty.

I vowed to never willingly enter into a Seven’s territory. My freedom and independence were the only things I had left to hold onto. And that was how I ended up in my current situation as a fighter in the Pit, the rough, man-made arena where fighters battle to the death for winnings while the audience bets furiously on their selected victor. No one had bet on me at first, but they learned quickly.

The Pit’s existence sprung out of desperation for distraction. Humans and demons alike needed some form of entertainment away from the monotony and death embedded within everyday life. Located within the Neutral Zone, the Pit provided humans the ability to earn a living and to make a name for themselves. Those that fought in the Pit were only lower on the human totem pole to the Pit Master and to the merchants in the Neutral Zone. Below the fighters were the scavengers, the workers, the peasants, and the lost.

Marching towards the exit gate, I nod to the next competitor to enter the arena – it might be the last I’d see of them. Pit Master Agra greets me as I step through the gate’s threshold and finally out of the public eye.

“Good work,” she forces a smile that only looks like she’s in pain, “But, next time make sure there’s more blood.”

I say nothing.

Agra takes my silence as acceptance and jerks her head at the empty hallway, indicating my second dismissal of the day. “You have one week until your next fight,” she predictably calls as I make my way down the tunnel towards my makeshift room located in the fighters’ dorms.

I wave a hand carelessly behind me in a sign of recognition. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to challenge her in the Pit.

Pausing outside my room, I struggle to unhook my necklace that held my key. The blood on my fingers still has not fully dried, and I grow increasingly frustrated. I just want to bathe, goddamnit.

“Allow me,” a deep voice purrs from behind me. I shudder as two hands suddenly brush my own away from their hold on the necklace. Warm fingers brush the nape of my neck as the sound of a slight inhale meets my ears.

Fuck, I hope this person isn’t smelling me because I am almost certain the combination of sweat and dried blood is extremely unpleasant.

“There,” the voice rasps, “All done.”

My necklace is gone from my neck, and I turn to retrieve it from whoever just assisted me.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss, taking in the demon before me. His teal hair is wild and reminiscent of a blue flame. His black eyes are large and slanted, fixed on me with a peculiar expression I just cannot place. His clothes are expensive. I peer closer, inspecting the intricate details on his patterned top. Was that Versace? 

In this economy?

His arm extends to mine. My necklace dangles from one finger carelessly. “Here, mì shaìà (my pet).”

“My name is (y/n),” I grab the necklace and shudder when our fingers brush for a split second, “Not Mishaeya.”

The demon smiles. It’s large and boxy and completely predatory. “(Y/n). Mì shaìà. It doesn’t make a difference.”

Am I missing something? 

“Listen, demon-dude, I just killed someone like five minutes ago. Can you stop being cryptic and just tell me why you’re lurking outside my room?”

“Ah, yes,” he stalks closer to me. My back hits the door to my room. He licks his lips, “I was watching you. You are quite the fighter, little one.”

“Little?” I glance down at my thick and well-muscled self, “Mhm, okay.”

“Are you not scared of me, mì shaìà?” His hand cups my chin, thumb darting out to wipe some blood from the shallow cut across my cheek.

“Should I be?” I front like my heart isn’t beating out of my chest.

“Yes,” he smiles before sucking the droplets of my blood from his thumb. “Surely someone as exquisite as you should need protecting. I’m surprised no one owns you yet, (y/n).”

My back straightens, “No one owns me. No one ever will.”

The demon’s head tilts as he silently studies me for a few moments. He looks like he almost wants to say something before he steps back and bows. “Sleep well, mì shaìà. I will be seeing you again.”

I gape as he walks away from me. A thought strikes me. “Hey!” I call after him, “What’s your name?”

He answers without looking back or breaking his stride, “V.”

a/n: i made up Deìthi, the language that the demons use in this story. i will keep a running list of translations at the bottom of each chapter as well as putting initial translations in parentheses following the first usage of the word.

Deìthi (The Language of Demons) Translation List:

Mì shaìà - My pet

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

The Courage of Letting Go

My project had crashed yet again. My laptop is telling me in all the possible languages that my hard drive is dying, and that I need to replace it soon. Yet I still ask +10 hours out of it daily. All I have left to do is reboot, see all of my data get wiped out, reinstall, reconfigure, wait and hope for the best. Again, again, again, until the green lines in my console numb my already half-asleep brain.

5:45AM. Early morning breeze is refreshing, birds are chirping annoyingly, I try to remember the last time I was able to really breath-in a morning, when I had a proper sleep schedule. I carefully navigate the labyrinths of what they might think or say, and plan accordingly. I realize that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, and that silence is indeed a divine language that I gladly speak.

25 imaginary conversations, one rant to my mom and 2 of my other friends, 3 weeks of self-inflicted isolation, and yet it still does feel right, in every possible aspect. I feel as if a burden had been cast from my back. I feel very light, and kind of excited for the unknown that would fill the void of what has been there. That huge chunk I orbited around for so long had finally pushed me a little bit too hard, into an open space suspension. In fact, it has been pushing me away for quite some time, but only equal to my desire to stay. Those forces eventually negated each other, and I stayed in inertia, comfortably numb, orbiting around a ruined star I thought was one of my riches.

We are creatures of habit. We are always afraid of change, and we prefer it would be inevitable and outside of our control. If change was inevitable, we would let it come to us rather than seeking it, even when we desperately need it. The human brain always sides with the known, within the confines of the familiar. We cling into relationships, belongings, countries, jobs, that are hurting us more than we could ever imagine. And yet we fail to realize that we are suffering directly because of those. And so letting go seems like a funny, extremely dark thought that one should never act upon it. Letting go does not even cross our minds for most of the time.

But some things do not require change. We value longevity, we identify with rituals and we appreciate sanctuaries. Places or people we go to regularly, and come running back towards when the world is unfair. Friends, family, romantic relationships, motherland, hometown. In fact these should not change at all costs, naturally and ideally, as they join to form our identity.

However, these deeply rooted landmarks should be questioned regularly. It's not because that one cannot change or disregard their family that we should put up with their toxicity for example. One should be brave enough to seek change in the forbidden "longevity" department I was talking about earlier, if change is required. One should take the leap of faith, and have the courage to break their own heart. One should listen to the deep voice within when it tells them to leave.

In my case, I had been among this gang of friends for 8 years or so now. We have been through a lot, and I thought I had a safe haven in which I could be simply me, and still feel loved and cared for. Being with my gang always meant recharge and safety, for quite some time.

As I went abroad for education, our relationships suffered heavily from the stress-test of distance. It was very clear to me that I mean nothing to them, and that they see nothing past the things I could offer: rides, professional advice, help with writing a CV, help with a university course, and so on. I soon discovered that they go out without me, systematically and on so many occasions, that I am kept away from their lives and that my struggles mean nothing but something to make fun of, collectively (yes, they mocked me openly once for falling in love with someone who later decided to marry someone else).

The thing that kept me going back to them is them being part of home, being part of something I achingly longed for when I was expatriated, and so I never thought twice before running back to them. My expectations surely lowered to rock-bottom, but I still invested my time and energy unto the gang.

Being back home once again has cast a very big light unto everything in my life. Now I can see very clearly that I am a mere decor, and that people call me only for my car or just to fill the space and not be completely alone. When they ask about some detail in my life, their questions hit me as mixed with a little bit of spite and envy. Maybe I am wrong on this last point, but I would not be surprised. It's no longer a serene sanctuary, it is a toxic tar pit.

The courage of letting go is a mystical force that descends, and suddenly everything is clear. Being honest with yourself is crucial for you to feel this. Once you open your gates, the voice of your gut that has been muffled for years is now a limpid, comforting sound. The courage of letting go is a force that once armed, should not be disregarded. The courage of letting go is another form of acceptance, a blessing.

You should not put up with a toxic friend or relative. You should not do something that does not make you feel good just because you're afraid what else is there for you. What if I cut loose my friends ? what will happen then ? No one knows, and quite frankly, it is exciting to get that space filled up by literally anything else.

This is not a piece of writing that would end with "maybe I am wrong after all". I have given every benefit; of doubt, of love, of affection, of temporary loss of interest, of casual indifference, of good intention. Not once, not twice. It has been years. And maybe it was not like this all the time. Maybe we changed. But I know for sure that I am better off without all of them. I know now that I had been exploited for the past years, and I know I represent nothing for all of them. I am not dumb to not realize when I am shoved away and made fun off systematically by people who are not necessarily better than me in any aspect. This feels like an echo of my early teenage years when I was bullied. That period also ended when I decided to stand up for myself because no one else did. I wrote a big-ass message and I cut all my ties with them. How ironically and sometimes stupidly history repeats itself.

I am glad I now have a wider perspective, and that now I accept the sight of you in my rear-view mirror getting further and further until you're an infinitesimal, irrelevant dot. A sight that has been silently hurting me for years. I always put that under the tab of my over-sensitivity as you would say, you being the expert know-it-all-even-psychoanalysis. I lowered my expectations, I doubted myself, I made myself believe what you thought of me, I asked less and less of you, while you took more and more. Time, effort, attention, consideration, ...

Now you're yesterday news, and I wish for you all the best on your journey, and for our paths to untangle and never ever cross again. Thanks for the memories, and thanks for the pain.

"Joy might visit us unexpectedly, set up the candles it might pass by us spray the way with tears Oh, my heart, where is your sorrow? I hid it away from the joy's path you keep whining you wail with tears of a distressed But this is a mere illusion, too high in heavens Take care not not shout sorrowfully, as sorrow can be heard." - Aziz Al-Samawi (sung by Ilham Al-Madfai : Khuttar)

[scarlets-maximoff]

of falling stars and crescent moons

a wandagatha oneshot (also on ao3)

pairing: agatha harkness/wanda maximoff

au - gods and goddesses

word count: 3472

_

In the beginning, there was nothing.

Nothing, however, was already something and, when the Elder Gods looked upon the blank canvas that one day would become the universe, they saw it was good. Life could be nurtured here, they would say. Their children would gasp excitedly, Papa, papa! Will you make me a star too? Ah, she already was. His little star.

Soon, my child, He would answer softly, bouncing his daughter on his knee.

And then, in the blink of an eye and a whispered command-

Nothing became everything.

An explosion. The Big Bang, some of the Elder Gods liked to call it.

Light flashed in unimaginable directions. Colorful waves of matter spread across space with unrestricted power and every once in a while the Gods would hear their rumble reverberating as thunders in the sky. All that was necessary for life to flourish was already coming together.

Nebulas and constellations now decorated the universe like splashes of paint on a black canvas. Stars colliding and galaxies being formed. Upon seeing part of their hearts and souls coloring their creation, the Gods rejoiced. Their creation was good.

But something was missing.

The universe couldn't be left barren. It was not made for that. What was the point of it all if not for life to be created and appreciated? To be lived? They needed a place where life could bloom and grow in all its glory. From birth till death. Where all creatures could exist.

So, hand in hand with one another, the Gods closed their eyes and imagined their second creation: the Earth. A small blue planet, born from the fire and blossoming under divine light. But darkness still lingered there, hiding just beneath the myriad of clouds and thunder. No living beings could settle in such an inhospitable environment.

He looked down on his child clinging to his legs. His beautiful Wanda. Running his fingers through her hair, he knew a decision had to be made.

"My darling, Papa needs to tell you something." His voice was deep but soothing and it reached the little girl's ears as if it were a breeze. She glanced up at him with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes, Papa?"

"You're my light, Wanda. You always have been and always will be. But this world needs you to shine on them. To guide them when darkness looms over their heads." Tears threatened to fall but He stood strong. A little hand grasped his in a surprisingly firm hold.

He pulled her up in his arms with a choked sob.

"You need to be their sun, little one." The girl tried to wiggle out of his embrace such was the excitement she felt. "I'll make you a star. Their star."

A tear fell.

Twinkle, little star.

The Sun was created.

—

Wanda sighed dejectedly.

Being the sun goddess was total, utter boredom. She had to wake up early every day to shine on those hideous living beings down on Earth—just a bunch of microbes, for dad's sake— and when nighttime came, there was no one to talk to! Not even a falling star! Asteroids were rude so she didn't even bother with them. It was lonely.

She knew her dad had been right. She knew how important her mission was and how essential for life to exist it was. In spite of all that… Wanda felt unbearably alone. Don't get her wrong, solitude was becoming to her. Even though she was an actual goddess, she only felt like one when she gazed down upon her kingdom. Her planet. And yet-

There was no one by her side. No one to share the sky with her. The days were bright and beautiful; the nights, dark and rueful. And it's been like that for the past 4 billion years. Wanda's lips trembled at the sudden realization.

4 billion years on her own. What kind of existence is that?

When the first tear fell, others soon followed. The night was silent if not for the sorrowful cries of the Sun. Up there, in the starry sky, the morning star wept. For her loneliness. For her family that wasn't there. For her heart, which thundered inside of her just like the rain that fell down on Earth. That night, Wanda prayed.

Her dad didn't talk to her much anymore. Until that moment, she hadn't tried to reach out either. There were no hard feelings between them—'Tis the right thing to do, my daughter— but after years of isolation, they grew apart. Or maybe, she just drifted away from him. A lost star in the endless void of the universe. How fitting.

Still, she prayed. A desperate plea from a chilling heart.

"Father-" Her fiery red hair fell like a curtain around her face. Shoulders heaving with each sob. "Please. Please, leave me alone no more, for I cannot bear it any longer. You said I would shine and bring light to this world. What world, Father?" Between sobs, Wanda screamed at the sky above. Each tear sizzled as they touched her skin. "How can I shine so brightly if there's no one to see me, dad? N-no one to share my light with?" Wanda, the morning star. Lost star. Dimming star.

Twilight in the sky.

From above, her creator observed the scene regretfully. How much He ached to be with her. To hold his daughter again. In an attempt to right what was wrong—Listen to my prayers, Father!— He waved his hand in a difficult motion, eyes swimming in tears that had yet to fall. As you wish, darling one.

"Let there be the Moon."

—

Bleary-eyed, the Moon rises.

What is she doing up there in the sky? It's quiet but eerily so. No star is close enough for her to speak with, only capable of seeing their light from afar. Glancing down, she notices her hands. They are pretty hands. Long fingers stained purple—why purple?— and pale skin. Agatha can almost see the little blood vessels underneath.

It is then that she notices her surroundings. The night is a lilac sky with drops of light in it, planets a million miles away and stars shining so brightly her eyes sting. Agatha herself is glowing. Or rather, reflecting the glow. There is a woman on the horizon. It's too far for Agatha to see what she looks like, but even from far away, she can see how much she shines. A beacon in the dark. Warmth sweeps through her in gentle waves. It comes from the woman too.

In a bout of courage, the Moon waves at her. She has no idea if it will work, given how bright is the space between them. She tries. There's something magnetic in this woman as if she was the Sun and Agatha, the satellite stuck in its orbit. But isn't that exactly what they are? And suddenly, as if heaven itself had illuminated her mind, she realizes that she is the Moon.

Agatha, Goddess of the night and the dark.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn't notice the Sun wiping away her tears, nor does she hear the surprised gasp the other woman erupts. Father listened!

"Hello?" Wanda calls out, confusion present in her tone. Dark hair flails wildly as Agatha focuses her gaze on her. She is so beautiful, the redhead thinks as she watches her from afar. Raven black mane of lustrous hair gently falling down on lean shoulders; pale, almost silver skin catching the light coming from Wanda in a soft glow. A reflection. Not quite her mirror but her opposite. This is the Moon in all her glory.

“You there!” She has to shout if she wants the other to hear it. “I’m the Sun. Or Wanda, if you prefer.” The star feels ridiculous shouting at someone who’s so far away, almost unreachable in the night sky. “What is your name?” A hopeful smile lights up her face by the time she finishes.

“I’m Agatha, dear.” The Moon smiles back. “Charmed to make your acquaintance. Now, is there any way we can meet up without all this screaming?” As if to make a point, Agatha puts a hand around her own throat. “Give a break to these vocal cords, ya know?” If she squinted her eyes just a bit, Wanda would see a teasing smile gracing the woman’s lips. However, having heard what she’d said, the Sun laughed merrily.

Thank you, Dad.

They talked the night away. What was once a sorrowful evening quickly became a cheerful night. However, when dawn starts to break, Wanda notices the Moon beginning to fade away. She tries to shine brighter, stronger in her light, desperation clutching her heart at the prospect of being alone again.

“Agatha,” The Sun is set ablaze. “Will I see you again?” The Moon is almost gone now. Giving up her place in the sky for the sunlight to shine. It would be poetic if it weren’t for the pain in her chest. How come the Moon missed her already?

“Darling, you’re the center of the universe.” Her voice is but a gentle whisper in the forenoon. Despite the distance, Wanda can hear it as if it had been whispered right by her ear. “Wherever you go, I follow.” And with sad blue eyes and a wistful smile, the moon Goddess disappears in the aurora.

—

173 days had passed since their first and only conversation. For some reason, on each night they shared, it became harder and harder for them to hear one another. And each time the Sun had to see her friend disappear in the sky, she took a little piece of her heart with her. She knew she was being dramatic. And if Agatha were here she would probably make fun of her too. Now, did she care? No, she didn't.

Wanda yearns for the Moon. Craves her soothing voice and cheeky remarks. Teasing smiles and soft eyes. The Sun felt seen under her gaze. After billions of years with only herself as company, the sun Goddess can't help but feel attached to her. Even though moths still didn't exist and she was the actual flame, Wanda was attracted to the moonlight just the same.

A little voice, however, just hidden in the confines of her mind, tells her that there was a purpose to this. This distance that they always try to close but never do. Yearning for someone she could never hold in her arms. Maybe this is just another way for Father to punish me again, Wanda thinks bitterly. She'd never been so wrong before. This was no punishment.

It was salvation.

Brooding up in the sky, the Sun hadn't noticed when night started to fall. Nor had she noticed when—instead of the Earth blocking her vision of the Moon—the object of her thoughts suddenly appeared right in front of her.

It's during a solar eclipse when they meet for the first time.

"Agatha? Is it really you?" Jumping to her feet from where she sat, Wanda feels her heart skip a beat. Nothing could compare to the Moon up close.

"It is. Come here so I can see you, darling!" A delighted smile curls on dark red lips. The goddess reaches up to softly cradle Wanda's face, a thumb brushing the warm skin of her cheek. "You're really here…"

The redhead leans into the touch. "I am. You have no idea how much I wanted to see you, Agatha. To talk to you eye to eye." The black-haired woman revels in the way green orbs gleam under her light. Their light. "To touch you." Hands to her hips pulls her closer. The Moon buries herself in those arms. It feels like being hugged by the Sun but literally this time. She giggles at her own silliness. A husky voice laughs along.

"Why are you laughing?" Wanda whispers in the crook of her neck. Agatha gives a small intake of breath, and her laughing subsides.

"I just realized the Sun is hugging me. A strange metaphor, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. Do you want me to-"

"No!" Agatha says, startling them both. She speaks quieter, "No. S-sorry, I'm just too silly for my own good. Comes with loneliness, I guess." She gives a bit of a laugh but her gaze finds the ground. A finger under her chin lifts it up.

"Hey," A soft smile spreads across the Sun's face. "It's okay. Maybe we could be silly together?" And as if to emphasize her point, she makes a silly face. Agatha can't help the guffaw that comes out. They laugh together again.

Hand in hand, they walk through the night sky. Talking about everything and nothing, they discover little things about each other, such as Agatha's liking for the sea and her influence on the tides, or Wanda's love for early mornings and summer evenings. Both women feel at home with each other, their past sorrows all but forgotten memories in their minds. Day and night. Light and darkness.

Total eclipse of the Sun.

—

It didn't take long for them to realize that they only had time to meet in person during eclipses. Solar ones, in fact. As such, whenever they got the chance, the two goddesses would always try to get the best out of the few hours they had together. Today is no different.

It was also in each other's company that they discovered the ability to incarnate themselves. In their human forms—Dad needs to create them soon—they would head down to their shared planet and take walks on the small patches of land they could find.

They're laying side by side on the ground. "Dear gods, Wanda, whatever those poor things have done to you? It's just phytoplankton," Between giggles, Agatha tries not to let a full laugh come out as she watches Wanda turn and glare at her, the redhead's own lips twitching as if she too were having a hard time not laughing. "Why do you despise them so?" Agatha is actually curious about that.

"They're just so bland! Father said that He would create mankind when I was little but apparently He forgot." She says grumpily but with a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Photosynthesis is the only thing they do all day. Not to mention under my account too!" Wanda puts on a serious face for a few moments, only for it to fall away as the twinkling laughter of her Moon hits her ears. It occurs to her, like a flash of lightning, how beautiful Agatha looks under the penumbra.

Their human forms came with the inability to display their god-like features, which was why Wanda didn't shine as the actual sun and Agatha didn't reflect her rays.

She is glad for it, really. Mortality looks heavenly on her Moon.

"You're a goofball!"

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are!" Agatha turns fully on her side, arms under her head and tenderness coloring her ocean eyes. Her gaze trails over the woman beside her. Without thinking, her hand finds Wanda's. Their laughter ceases to give space to a companionable silence. There's no need for words right now.

Despite knowing each other for months now—It feels like I've known her for years, they both think—it's at this very moment the goddesses realize how important and vital the other's presence is in their lives. Wanda found a friend in Agatha, something she had longed for as long as she could remember. Solace and understanding the foundation of their budding relationship. Yet, a flame started inside of her chest. It was small at first, barely there. A candle in the dark. Now?

Fire overtook her entire being.

The Sun burns for the Moon's touch and her smile; her azure eyes and sharp tongue, quick wit and soft words-

Wanda, the sun Goddess. The only morning star. The lost star. Once dimming but never giving out. Enters the Moon and she falls. A falling star in the dark night sky. And woe is Wanda, for she hopes Agatha catches her. Never to fade away. Never to let go.

"Wanda?" The hand Agatha holds trembles slightly. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, I'm just- it's nothing, really." There are tears in her eyes but she wills them not to fall. She is my only friend, I can't lose her for this-

"Honey, don't do this. I know there's something upsetting you. I won't force you to talk to me but know that I'm here, Wanda. I'm not going anywhere." She pulls her hand away to run her fingers through soft auburn hair. The Sun feels fire spread within.

"Promise we can still be friends?" Never in her life had she felt so insecure. But she had to know.

"Darling, how could I not be your friend? You're my sun, superstar. But yes, I promise you." Agatha tried to joke around to see if she could bring a smile to the woman's face. It is to no avail.

Wanda rests a warm hand on her cheek. Caresses the skin just beneath her eyes, brushes her nose. Ghosts over lips. With each touch, Agatha's heart plummeted in her chest. A crescent moon, thundering core.

"I've always wanted to be a star. When the Gods created the universe, I was there. I've seen things you can't even imagine. Whole galaxies colliding with each other, the death of a million stars." She closes her eyes briefly, and her voice cracks as she continues. "And when I became one, I felt completely happy. Excited even. I was to shine upon a whole world, the entire solar system. And yet… I was lonely. I was alone for so long, Agatha. But then- Then you came along. I prayed for someone, anyone to come and put me out of my misery.

My light was going out but you brought it back. You are my light, Agatha. You're the reason I still burn and will continue to burn until the end of time itself, if it means you're by my side." By the time she finishes, tears have long started falling. And by the time they fall, the Moon has already pulled the Sun into her embrace.

Black nails into her scalp. Murmured words of comfort in her ear.

The Sun sets and lays in her chest.

"Remember that thing I said on the day we met?" She waits for Wanda to nod, her mane of red hair tickling Agatha's nose. "Wherever you go, I follow. That's the truth, Wanda. Not only am I incapable of getting away from you, I also don't want to. And do you know why?" Green eyes red with crying look up at her. "Because I can't bear the thought of not being with you. The very prospect of not seeing you shine so brightly in the sky saddens me so much that-" Her voice chokes. "That sometimes I can't breathe. But when morning comes and you're up there in the sky being your sunny self," They both laugh tearfully. "I feel alive. You make me feel alive, Wanda."

It doesn't really matter who leans in first.

Day and night find each other's lips in a searing kiss. Wanda might have witnessed many things in her long life, but never had she seen the collision of a satellite and its star. What a spectacle it was. Lucky her for having the pleasure to participate in it.

They are a mess of limbs curling into one another. Not once separating from their kiss, Wanda manages to straddle Agatha with dexterity, her hands pining those of the woman to the hard surface. Tongue against tongue in an elegant and passionate dance. Total eclipse of the Sun, full Moon its only spectator.

Then, coming from the heavens above, a deep rumble sounded.

"No." A whispered command. Father had come back.

And the falling star and her crescent moon were no more.

—

Wanda opens her eyes with a silent gasp.

Sunlight hits her face lazily as if it had just woken up as well. Agatha sleeps by her side. Looking out, she sees the snowy mountain tops and the woods that surrounded their cabin being grazed by the morning sun.

Her girlfriend murmurs something in her sleep the younger witch can't quite comprehend. Trying to calm her rabbit-heart, Wanda pulls her closer and breathes into her hair. Feels her own breathing slow down. It was just a dream, it was just dream-

"Well, good morning, sunshine." Violet eyes hazy with sleep slowly blink at her. A soft smile on red lips. "What's with the long face?" Agatha taps her nose. The warm breeze coming from outside suddenly feels too hot.

Too much.

"Nothing, I- I just had the strangest dream…"

Up in the sky, the Sun wept.

[carewyncromwell]

"Cover my eyes -- cover my ears -- Tell me these words are a lie... It can't be true that I'm losing you -- The sun cannot fall from the sky... Can you hear heaven cry the tears of an angel?”

~“Tears of an Angel,” by RyanDan

x~x~x~x

tw: character death, brief mention of violence 

The Battle of Hogwarts, taking place the night of May 1st 1998 and into the next morning of May 2nd, was a dramatic day in the Wizarding World’s history. It was the day that Lord Voldemort fell at the hands of Harry Potter and the Ministry of Magic successfully seized back control from the Death Eaters that had infiltrated it -- the day that marked the end of the Second Wizarding War and a new beginning for wizards in the United Kingdom. 

It was also a day, however, of immense loss. Although most magical historians (and authors writing books about the infamous Boy Who Lived) tend to gloss over the names and identities of those lost in favor of the grander-scale historical strides achieved by the end of the War, those who actually fought in the Battle -- such as Jacob Cromwell -- never forget that.

Once known as the “delinquent” who pursued Hogwarts’s infamous Cursed Vaults as a student, only to disappear mysteriously for seven years and then reappear looking exactly the same as when he vanished, Jacob worked hard to make a better name for himself. Once his fight against R was finally over, he set about traveling the world and taking on as many areas of study as he could, using his extensive knowledge of Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, the Dark Arts, defensive magic, magical and Muggle history, Legilimency, Muggle science, and both modern and ancient languages to pioneer new magical discoveries. One of his most passionate interests was in applying Muggle chemistry and biology to the fields of Potioneering and Magizoology, and through those advancements, he was able to not only introduce the use of the periodic table to advanced Potions classes and the principles of evolution to advanced Care of Magical Creatures classes, but also help develop a slew of new antidotes for magical creature venoms. Despite this, though, Jacob was enough of a vagabond with no definitive sense of direction that he could be easily persuaded to jump back into Cursebreaking -- the thing that first brought him and his once-boy best friend Duncan together -- and through Cursebreaking, Jacob met Lugh Hopper. @thatravenpuffwitch​​

The Patriarch of the Hopper clan was a very brave and dedicated family man, even despite the tragedy in his life. During the First Wizarding War, he lost not only his wife, but his son and daughter-in-law, so he’s always been quite protective of and nurturing toward his grandchildren Ellie and Jacob Hopper. With this in mind, it’s not entirely surprising that a man with such good paternal instincts and such a fearless spirit took a liking to a reckless, passionate nerd like Jacob Cromwell. They were both Legilimens with a strong devotion to family and a lot of courage, and honestly, Jacob C was just entertaining to go on assignments with, considering he never flinched away from a challenge and would get over-excited about the littlest things. 

Jacob Cromwell had never had a real father figure in his life before, since his father Evan had never been very affectionate or supportive toward either Jacob or Carewyn and ultimately abandoned his family when Jacob received his Hogwarts letter, and so Lugh filled a hole in Jacob Cromwell’s life that he barely even knew had been there before. Lugh validated Jacob’s intense passions and desire to fix people’s problems and make the world better, even after all of the mistakes Jacob had made in his life. The older man wholeheartedly supported Jacob when he put his Cursebreaking assignments on hold to return to Britain, supposedly to “research at home” for a while, but in truth to help his sister Carewyn hide Muggle-born fugitives from the Ministry of Magic. And when both men arrived at Hogwarts on May 1st, they greeted each other with a casual hug, slapping each other’s backs, as if Jacob Cromwell was just as much Lugh’s grandson as Jacob Hopper was.

The two men fought side by side some of the time during the Battle. Both were extremely talented magical Duelists -- Lugh had once worked in the Auror Department alongside Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, while Jacob had been a dueling prodigy since he was still at school and had in his travels studied with a Native American wizard about how to fight with two wands simultaneously. Despite this, however, the casualties in the Battle of Hogwarts were very steep indeed -- and sure enough, one of those casualties was Lugh, who only went down thanks to the combined efforts of four Death Eaters. 

When Lugh went down, Jacob Cromwell -- who never was very good at containing his anger -- lost his head completely. He tore into the enemy forces with both of his wands, mercilessly cutting them down with an assortment of both dueling and Dark spells that other members of the Hogwarts army wouldn’t have dared use. He used Transfiguration to fuse one Death Eater to a suit of armor, even if the metal cut painfully through his flesh and bone. He seized one Death Eater’s wand arm with a spell and then dislocated it, twisting it completely the wrong way. He even impaled one of the men who’d cornered Lugh with a chandelier. Jacob was so grief-stricken that he’d gone mad -- and even when the Battle had been paused and there were no more enemy combatants left to fight, no one could get close to him. Most didn’t want to, out of fear of his temper. The only ones brave enough to were Bill Weasley and Jacob Hopper. 

When the eldest Weasley tried to approach first, Jacob Cromwell refused to let him get within three feet of him. Jacob C had always had a lingering, petty resentment of his sister’s best friend, since Bill had sort of “taken Jacob’s place” in Carewyn’s life while he was trapped in the Portrait Vault and also embodied a lot of Jacob’s insecurities about not being good enough of a brother for Carewyn, so he had a lot of trouble accepting any help from him. Jacob Hopper, on the other hand, naturally grieved his grandfather just as much as Jacob Cromwell did -- and although Hopper was a rather arrogant rebel, Jacob Cromwell was one of those too, so the two had found more than a little bit of common ground while working together on assignments with Lugh. And so tall Jacob Hopper was able to get close enough to the shorter, stockier Jacob Cromwell to roughly pull him into a hug without a word -- and the two Jacobs ultimately stood there in the hall together, Jacob Cromwell’s shaking hands holding his wands wrapped around Hopper’s chest as they both gritted their teeth and fiercely tried to contain their grief and tears. All Jacob Cromwell ever said to Jacob Hopper that day was --

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Most wouldn’t know what he was sorry for, exactly...but Hopper surmised it was indicative of survivor’s guilt, more than anything. 

After the War was over, Jacob Cromwell -- with some encouragement from his sister Carewyn -- finally felt brave enough to ask the Hoppers if he could sing something for Lugh’s funeral, in his honor. Naturally the Hoppers agreed...and when the young vagabond wizard came up to stand in front of the congregation that included his sister and her new ward Erik, his mother, and his best friend Olivia Green, his way-too-long ponytail of dark brown curls better groomed and dressed in nicer high-necked black robes than he’d ever worn in his life, he sung full-voice and bravely, even with tears streaming down his face. 

“Oh, we never know where life will take us --  I know it's just a ride on the wheel -- And we never know when death will shake us, And we wonder how it will feel... So goodbye, my friend --  I know I’ll never see you again, But the time together through all the years Will take away these tears. It's okay now... Goodbye, my friend.”

And for the remainder of Jacob Cromwell’s life, he held Lugh Hopper’s memory as close to his heart as he did Duncan Ashe’s -- this time, as motivation to fight for a world where people like Lugh didn’t have to lay down their lives, just to save others from people like Voldemort and the Death Eaters. 

[vercopaanir]

Who You Are

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 5

Masterlist for this series

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: Just when things begin to settle, a dogfight between the Mandalorian and another bounty hunter leaves you injured, stranded on Tatooine, and in need of money.

Rating, Warnings: None. I honestly don’t think I’ve needed to warn for anything so far, but if I miss something, please let me know!

Notes: This chapter contains some Mando’a that I found via the internet. Translations are at the bottom, and inspired by @themandjalorian​’s “i imagine how your name would sound.” It was the first story I read from this universe, so I dedicate this part to her! Go read her things! This is also on AO3. Also, I did write in a part directly from the show. I’ll try not to do this too much in the future, but let me know what you think!

Ever since your argument on Quanera, you and the Mandalorian fall into a comfortable, if not an easy rhythm.

It goes something like this.

In the mornings, you take the baby outside and let him run through the grass, which is almost too tall for him to see over. He often chases insects and climbs on top of small rocks. One afternoon, just before it started to rain, he picks every blue flower he can find, and when you both return to the Razor Crest as the heavens open up, he waddles up to the Mandalorian to present the drooping bouquet.

The bounty hunter kneels on the floor of the hull, using a soldering iron to fix the wiring of one of the ship’s consoles, but he sets it carefully aside to take the wilting flowers from the child. “Thank you,” he whispers, resting his gloved hand on the baby’s head with gentle affection. You see, later that evening before you retire to bed, the pale blue flowers resting in a clay cup of water on the control panel of the cockpit.

After a little exercise, you feed the baby mashed fruit, and he tends to try to feed his stuffed bantha toy some, too. You have already washed it more times than you thought possible, sure it will fall apart any day, now.

Then, in the afternoons as the child sleeps, you find things to keep yourself occupied. One day, you walk up behind the Mandalorian while he cleans one of his many weapons. The noises of scrubbing and tinkering draw you over, but you cannot tell what weapon he’s disassembled. The small table is absolutely littered with different parts, gears, and oiled cloths. It would look the same to you whether you were blind or not. But it’s the bit of light shining through the holes of his cloak that cause you to frown.  

“This isn’t the one you lent me,” you say, picking up the hem. You feel with your fingers the holes and tatters. One portion of fabric is nearly worn away entirely.

He turns his helmet towards you, pausing his ministrations of scrubbing off the carbon of the barrel of a gun. “No.”

“Why don’t you wear the other?”

There is a heavy pause where he grows very still, and you have the distinct impression he isn’t actually looking at you.

“Because you’re wearing it.”

A blush blooms in both your cheeks, and you flex your fingers over the fabric that you still hold between your hands. You have taken to wearing the cloak whenever you go outside, since Quanera’s air is still cooler than what you were accustomed to. It does not seem to phase the Mandalorian at all, and he hasn’t asked for his cloak back. You use it as a lap blanket when you join him in the cockpit, either perched in the pilot’s chair to practice your landing and take-off, or nodding off in the co-pilot’s seat. You prefer it to the hull, since there’s more light, and the three of you are together.

“That’s ridiculous,” you finally insist, ignoring how weak your voice sounds. With a frown, you step closer behind him, and you rest both hands on his pauldrons. “Here, take it off.”

Immediately, he grows so tense you can taste it in the air. You tilt your head, trying to gauge what the problem is. “I have a needle and thread,” you say after a moment, fingering the fabric where his shoulder and neck meet. “I may be blind, but I can sew a hole or two.”

You see the moment his shoulders drop by inches, and for a moment, he continues to remain still. You don’t think he is actually going to acquiesce from how long he hesitates, but then he turns back to the gun he is cleaning and mutters, “Suit yourself.”

With a short sigh, you begin removing the pauldrons that secure the cloak beneath, your fingers working beneath the beskar to locate the leather straps that keep them secure. The armor itself draws your attention as you lift one shoulder guard between your hands, and you form an idea. He appears distracted enough, so you remove the other before taking the cloak and both pieces of beskar with you.

The Mandalorian finds you that evening sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, one leg crossed over the other as you feel with your fingers every stitch you made, careful not to prick yourself and bleed all over it. In the pilot’s chair, his pauldrons shone like beacons, freshly polished and his thicker cloak you’d been borrowing folded nicely underneath.

“I gave this one to you,” he had said, sounding tired and petulant. His voice was thick with another emotion you can’t put your finger on, and you lift your chin up and set your sewing in your lap, the well-worn cloak resembling a black banner against your legs.

“And now I’m giving it back. It’s terribly heavy,” you insist with a wave of your hand, looking back down at the seams you’ve created on the thinner one you were mending.

“Then-then I’ll get you another one,” the Mandalorian huffs, sounding endearingly irritated. He begins to put the armor back on, thorough and precise with every movement. “That thing isn’t worth the thread you’re using on it.”

“You were wearing it.” It’s an accusation, and you mean it that way. His armor is beautiful, but what should keep him warm is so thin even you can see through it. “Besides, I don’t intend to wear it.”

And you don’t. What you do is reline the child’s cradle, using the older, thinner blankets as padding and attaching the newly mended cloak on top. You notice the little one burrow under the blankets more than once, and one evening when you pick him up, his ears feel near to freezing off. This project takes you several days to complete, your penchant for a well-done job motivating you to perfect the cushion of the cradle and securing the lining in neat, hemmed rows.

When the baby finally crawls in, he practically bounces from the soft stuffing, cooing in wonder. You cannot keep from beaming with pride at your work, your fingers a bit more stiff and sore than before, but it is worth it to see the child fall asleep so quickly. You wonder if he is comforted by the scent of his father.

The Mandalorian says nothing of it. He finds some work collecting a renegade mechanic who had stolen a ship from Cantonica, and when he returns-wearing the cloak you’d forced back onto him-he seems too tired to even hold a conversation. You manage to take off without needing his supervision, and you assure him you would let him know if you needed help.

Returning to your own bunk that night, you find bolts of fabric that have your mouth falling open. The different textures feel as silky as water against your fingers, softer than anything you’ve ever worn before, in shades of the sea. Blues, greens, greys, darker but rich in a quality you could never afford. Your eyes sting at the kind gesture, unsure what to make of such a gift.

You stay up that night until the sun appears on the horizon, sewing and hemming until your fingers are too raw to even pick the child up, but you know the Mandalorian sees the midnight blue dress that replaces the old threadbare clothing you wore before. He even helps secure the cloak you’ve sewn for yourself, his leather gloves whispering over the pewter material when he fastens it at your shoulders before going out with the child.

That was this morning, before you took off. Now, you’ve set course to a planet called Nevarro, where the Mandalorian says he needs to speak with a business associate from the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. You have plenty of curiosity for the venture, but now you are distracted.

There are few sounds in the world that make you as happy as listening to the child laugh. The burbling squeal, thick with joy, makes your face crease with a helpless grin as you lounge in the pilot’s seat in the Razor Crest’s cockpit. The ship is currently cruising on autopilot, and you are facing the co-pilot seats where the child is propped up in his cradle in one, flailing his arms and hiccupping with laughter as the Mandalorian sits across from him, attempting to speak sternly in Mando’a.

“Ori’skraan,” the Mandalorian is saying, holding out a small bite of a herb encrusted bread to the child. When the child simply giggles so hard his ears fluttered up, you can’t keep from laughing either, covering your mouth. The Mandalorian chokes on his own chuckle, dropping his helmet forward and shaking his head side to side. “Epar, verd’ika!” he insists, wagging the bit of food at the small green creature.

The baby falls back into his cradle, giggling and kicking his little feet in joy at the Mandalorian’s fruitless language lesson, and you throw your own head back with laughter.

“He’ll starve at this rate,” the bounty hunter snorts, dropping the small slice of bread onto the plate he’d brought for the child.

“Oh, I doubt that,” you snicker, missing the way the gleaming helmet with it’s sharpened visor tilts towards you. “And I have a feeling that he’s taking in every single thing you’re saying. One day he’ll just simply start speaking full sentences.”

The Mandalorian glances from you to the child, then back again, radiating skepticism. The baby still wobbles from his laughter, toddling back upwards to grin with all his teeth. When the bounty hunter looks down at him, the child tilts his head as if daring the armored warrior to continue.

“Duraani, burc’ya?”

Immediately, the child squeals laughing, and you have the rare pleasure of listening to a true belly laugh modulate from the Mandalorian’s helmet, his armor nearly shaking with laughter. He leans forward in the co-pilot’s seat and lifts the baby out of the makeshift cradle, setting him in his lap. Your eyes slip closed as you savor the sweet sounds of receding laughter echoing off the metal walls of the ship, a small smile on your face.

When the Mandalorian speaks again, his voice is soft, almost too quiet for even the modulator to pick up. “Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad,” he murmurs to the child, and you open your eyes in time to see him do something you find incredibly strange. He bows his head and taps the smooth beskar crown of his helmet to the child’s little wrinkled forehead. The tiny three fingered hands reach up to pat just beneath the visor, and the baby coos in response.

It is one of the most tender sights you’ve ever witnessed, and you’re compelled to turn your eyes away.

“Mesh’la,” whispers the Mandalorian, and when you turn back, you find that both the bounty hunter and the child are gazing at you. The child coos in his arms, looking up at the armored guardian before blinking back at you. If you didn’t know better, he seemed to understand.

“What are you telling him?” you ask with a soft smile, raising your eyebrows when the beskar helmet looks away from you. Amused suspicion lingers in your voice, not trusting the conspiratorial tone of the hunter or the curious ear perk of the little one he holds.

“I am telling him who you are.”

The quiet, reverent way he says the simple words stirs something in your heart, and your mouth goes dry as bones. You certainly do not speak Mando’a, which he’s certainly exploiting in the moment, but you suddenly desire fluency from the gentle, beautiful language from the way he speaks it alone.

And then, everything falls apart.

A thundering explosion throws everyone and everything in the cockpit forward, the Razor Crest lurching from the hit of enemy fire. You’re thrown to the side right out of the chair and land half sprawled across the control panel. A sudden impact to your side from a gear shift radiates pain all the way from your hip to your shoulder, and you can’t muffle the painful cry that bursts from your mouth.

The Mandalorian hits the wall of the cockpit, turning his body just in time so he absorbs the fall and the child in his arms doesn’t smash into the metal siding. You shove yourself up, scrabbling for the controls, and you pull the ship up, every instruction and piece of advice the Mandalorian had instilled in you falling into place. The whole right side of your body is burning with discomfort, and when the bounty hunter grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the seat, you can’t help the dry sob that tumbles from your throat.

“Move!”

You change places, stumbling quickly to the co-pilot’s chair and struggle with the buckles. They click in place not a moment too soon, because all of the sudden the ship is crashing into a high speed, and you shut your eyes from dizziness.

A voice breaks the silence over the communications link. “Gotcha, Mando!”

The vocoder is all static when the Mandalorian growls with annoyance, gloved hands conducting a symphony over the controls to push the Razor Crest into flying maneuvers that leave your stomach somewhere down in the hull of the ship. With the thrusters fully engaged, the ship is flying faster than you’ve ever experienced, and it seems the child feels the same terrifying tension you do.

You reach over as best you can, lifting him from his cradle and wrapping your arms around him, focusing on how he nuzzles beneath your neck and coos at the attention rather than the pain radiating in your side.

“Hand over the child, Mando,” a voice hums over the communications link, and you realize belatedly what’s actually happening. He had told you the Empire was after the little one, that there was danger hanging over his head wherever he went. Your heart begins to pound in your breast, and you know the child can feel it, because he whimpers and clutches at your clothing.

Instinctively, you hold the baby closer to your body, feeling the Razor Crest dip before tilting back and up to gain speed. Another hit on the back of the ship causes it to lurch forward, and you and the child would’ve gone careening into the floor had you not been buckled in.

“I might let you live,” comes the voice again, half a threat and half a taunt.

More impact from enemy fire sends the ship shuddering, and alarms begin to go off, blaring in the cockpit. Something off to the left side of the ship implodes, and the crackling of fire on metal resounds in the walls. The baby whimpers and begins to fuss against you, and you’re only dimly aware that the Mandalorian responds to the threat by flipping several switches all the while ignoring the blaring alarms.

“Hold on.”

You slip your arms tighter around the baby, pressing your face between his ears, and you feel the ship turn quickly in a move that dodges excess fire. The red glow of the alarms distorts the cockpit, and all you can see is the gleam of the beskar helmet as he leans forward over the controls. It occurs to you in that moment that there is a certain thrill in something like this, a horrifying adrenaline rush that dangles you between safety and risk.

“Come on,” the Mandalorian mutters, angling the ship back and forth to avoid the shots.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” the pilot says over the radio, and those words sink into your stomach like a stone.

You don’t have time to consider the ramifications of the threat because the Mandalorian suddenly grabs the controls and rips them back, causing the ship to thrust backward in space. The starfighter flies past, directly overhead, and you suck in a breath when the ship clips one of the Razor Crest’s engines.

“That’s my line.”

The starfighter is in view one moment, and the next it’s a brilliant shower of sparkling vermillion clouds. The communications link dies, and the engines are shut off, allowing the Razor Crest to list in space silently.

For a long, horrible moment, the alarms going off feel like they’ll never stop, and you’re afraid you’ve forgotten how to breathe in the midst of the chaos. The Mandalorian tests a few gauges, flicking a switch or two before saying, “Losing fuel.”

With a few more quiet clicks and punches, the alarms are swallowed by the quiet and darkness of the engines powering down. The child giggles in the dark, his ears perking up and down curiously, and you’re glad he’s having fun, at least. When the Mandalorian turns in the pilot’s chair, he seems to remember the both of you and leans forward, putting his gloved hand on the baby’s head. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes are closed, head bowed to try and breathe. The panic from such jeopardy would have been one thing to deal with, but the hot pain spreading up your side from landing on the control panel is becoming harder to ignore. You bite your lip and jerk your head side to side, and there’s a shift of fabric in the darkness, followed by a quiet clink of metal on metal when the Mandalorian kneels in front of you. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I think I hurt myself when...earlier,” you frowned, trying to remember how it even happened. Everything was a blur, both mentally and physically, and it seemed like years ago now when the two of you were laughing at the child’s giggle fit. You shifted and swallowed a painful groan building in your throat. It came out as a muffled noise. “It’s hard to breathe.”

Without missing a beat, the bounty hunter takes the child from your arms and places him in the cradle in the opposite co-pilot’s chair. Turning back to you, he places a hand on your shoulder, and you suppose he must see how you’re favoring one side, holding your right arm across your abdomen.

His hand gently squeezes your shoulder, and he rumbles from behind the helmet before nodding.

He’s got a stubborn urgency about him now, leaning over you and pressing several controls. A switch clicks, and the engines power back up. He retakes his seat in the pilot’s chair, and you let out a shaky breath, the pain growing from your side like a hug-around your back and up to your chest. You listen to the beeps of the console and the radio static that hums back to life.

“This is Mos Eisley Tower.  We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over.”

“Copy that. Locked in for three-five.”

You lean your head back against the headrest and try to ignore your heart palpitations when the engines sputter and pop, closing your eyes. When the Razor Crest lands, you are surprised at how gentle of a landing it is considering all the damage it’s taken. When you open your eyes again, it’s just as the Mandalorian is turning in his seat to look at you, and you wonder what he must see. You certainly don’t feel your best, and you think you must look it because he murmurs, “Stay here.”

The child fell asleep once the ship entered the landing program, and the bounty hunter gathers him in a blanket before disappearing down the ladder and into the hull. When he returns, you feel your throat begin to tighten at the worry of being able to breathe. It’s hurting worse now, and the pain is sharper. He says your name, but when you don’t respond, his hands are unbuckling you from the seat. Gloved fingers ghost over your temple, and your eyes lift open.

“Can you walk?”

You consider it, and the very idea of anyone lifting you up makes your entire body viscerally react with dread. You nod but add, “I need help standing-and going down the ladder.”

He nods and gives you his hand, his other resting behind your shoulder. You bite your lip on a noise building from your chest, feeling weak and useless. Surely he’s nearly come close to dying, and here you are, hardly unable to stand all because you fell. Hot tears of shame prick your eyes, and you hold onto his offered hand as he helps you down the ladder. When you start to walk the length of the hull, your head drops to the side until it’s propped up against his shoulder. His arm naturally curves around your back, but you hiss when he touches your side.

You adjust his fingers and shift them up beneath your arm, muttering a quiet thanks as he helps you walk down the ramp.

The sun is hot and the air is dry on Tatooine, and you shut your eyes against the bright light when you both step out from the shadow of the Razor Crest. So when three pit droids begin chittering and ambling toward the ship, you nearly jump out of your skin when the Mandalorian unholsters his blaster pistol and shoots with smooth fluency.

“Hey!” a shriek from within the bay makes you wince. “ Hey! ”

“You won’t make friends with warning shots,” you whisper under your breath, leaning into him as he walks with you off the ramp, still tucked under his arm. He ignores you.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” A woman strides out from the operating booth, and her fiery, direct attitude is a refreshing change from the quiet and stoic atmosphere of the ship. If you had full possession of yourself, you would appreciate it more, you think.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” the Mandalorian warns, adjusting his arm behind you so that you lean more of your weight on him. Though his tone is usually the same reserved, level baritone, you notice his voice takes on a more unflinching edge when he mentions the droids.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea, do ya?” the woman asks, her own unflappable and direct voice a match for the bounty hunter’s. She puts one hand on her utility belt before gesturing with the other. “What’s wrong with her?”

You’ve closed your eyes again, sweat beginning to prickle your brow in the heat, or perhaps it’s from the strain of keeping yourself upright. The beskar helmet tilts down towards you before regarding the mechanic again. With no answer, and you are almost thankful for it, the mechanic gives a short sigh. “Needs a doctor? There’s one down the road.”

When both of you hesitate-, it’s easier to hear your pained breathing. The woman shifts uncomfortably, glancing between both of you before huffing. “Well why are you just standing here? Get her to the doctor!”

“But the ship-”

“Oh, it’ll be here when you get back,” she says with another huff. “And don’t think I’m not charging you every minute for it!”

The two of you set off down the sand trekked street, and you feel the Mandalorian take a deep breath. “I could carry you, and we would be there faster.” It might have been a complaint, you think, if his voice wasn’t suddenly so tender and quiet.

“If you even try, I think I’ll pass out,” you whisper, unable to fathom your body bending with the pain in your side. Underneath the armor, you wonder if he’s rolling his eyes. Surely he didn’t prepare for this contingency, and you bite your lip on the feeling of guilt remembering the baby is alone on the ship. “If I can get to the medic, you can go back. The child shouldn’t be alone.”

“I can’t just leave you,” the Mandalorian shoots quickly, his tone full of surprise.

“I’ve survived without you this long,” you murmur with a small smile, and he’s quiet at that until you reach the medical service center. The name itself is a bit too grand for the small dusty building with sand on the floor and aged equipment. You suppose your face must be washed pale from the pain, because there are several on staff who rush forward to help you when the Mandalorian shoulders you through the doors. They all ask questions and begin to escort you to the back, but the bounty hunter speaks up before they get too far.

“Wait.” Everyone freezes, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Standing and breathing are becoming two things you aren’t sure you can handle at the same time, swaying between two physicians who keep you propped up. “Be careful with her. Please.”

You don’t turn your head to look back at him, but you wonder if he remains until you’re out of sight.

-

Mando’a Translations:

Ori’skraan - a delicacy, a real treat in terms of food

Epar - eat

Verd’ika - “little soldier”

Duraani, burc'ya? - You looking funny at me, pal?

Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad - an adoption vow, literally translated “I know your name as my child.”

Mesh’la - beautiful

-

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons​, @itzagoodthing​ @letaliabane @yodaswrinkles @rzrcrst​ @kateb013

[giorgiastastes]

El hoyo (2019)

"The message needs no carrier" (spoiler: it actually does)

"There are 3 kinds of people; the ones above, the ones below, and the ones who fall. "

I've just watched this small masterpieces and here's my own interpretation.

Obviously the whole movie is a big metaphor. Both an analogy about our society and one about the Afterlife are present.

First of all, in my view, the place they're kept into is like a Purgatory between heaven and hell. The protagonist entered there voluntary because after the six months trial he would have expiated his sins and would finally be ready to enter Heaven. The old man is an accidental killer, therefore he doesn't deserve Hell, but definitely can't go into Heaven either, and his punishment is longer than Goreng's because he did in fact end a life.

Also Goreng is referenced multiples times as the Messiah, and his travel towards this purge tower is quite similar to Dante's one.

Each prisoner wakes up the first day of the month in a different position, which represents our birth. Some are born in better environments, families and countries and all of it is just luck, fate.

Then, since everyone knows that each of higher floors will likely take advantage of their position, our selfishness takes the best of us.

The higher floors know that the lower ones will literally eat their leftovers, while the ones under know that they better take as much as they can, otherwise they won't be able to survive. There's no altruism or generosity in the society.

You're placed high, you sh*t on who's below. You're below, you dream to reach above.

Each of the characters represents something.

The first roommate, the old man, is someone who's very aware of their surrounding, who's tired of fighting and knows very well how the world works because he's been in a better as much as a worse situation.

The lady coming from the Administration is a middle class representative, trying to change the world but also completely unaware of what's happening right under her nose.

The fact that she keeps on saying that a baby cannot be there and there are 200 floors is just further proof that we blindly lie to ourselves that things can't be that bad, that the world isn't that evil and the rules are respect, being delusional of course, to help us sleep at night. That's why when she hits lower than what she was told was possible, she killed herself.

She's also a vegetarian, with a big love for animals. She obviously represents both an activist that is trying to tell others that they shouldn't eat more than they need, because that means that who's lower won't have anything left, which is such a big innuendo to climate change, but at the same time she's also a privileged person who's never been lower than a certain point and thinks that anyone can easily "just eat less" without caring about other's issues (it reminded me of some vegans who cannot accept that veganism is not accessible or sustainable for the majority of the would population)

The last roommate, the one with the rope represents a religious person, who endures the hardship without giving up because of his faith.

Another pragmatic sequence in my opinion was the one where the two, while descending the tower, met an ill man with a companion with the Down Syndrome (I'm sorry if I'm sounding insensitive is just that I don't know how else to better describe the scene to make it recognizable to you) who said that he will proceed to suffocate his cellmate to also eat what went into his stomach even while being no more hungry himself, I mean, can you better descrive greed than this sentence?

Now, coming to the final scene, which left many of the viewers disappoint or confused, here's my idea.

The deranged girl who claims to have a daughter is definitely crazy, but not completely gone. I do believe there is a baby there, and the Administration is probability unaware of that because there's someone higher than them, and they're being lied to, also. But I don't think the protagonist actually saw the little girl.

I think that he reached such a place of histeria that he convinced himself that the baby was alive, hallucinating, to have a last strand of hope as he was dying. Notice how the baby is perfectly clean and well nourished, that would be impossible. The little girl is long gone and dead God knows in which floor but he convinced himself that he saw her as a way of also hoping that some kind of humanity is still left, that they wouldn't kill and eat an innocent and innocuous creature. But that's not the case.

Notice how he reaches the 333th floor and then walks like he doesn't even have a scar. Now multiply that number for each room residents, which are two. He's dead and has now reached Hell. There he finds his first roommate who's also in Hell since they both damned themselves letting their selfishness take over. The lady is obviously absent, since she never hurt a thing or specifically ate someone's flesh.

The baby was all part of his imagination and she doesn't reach the 0 level, simply because she was never there in the first place.

The girl could have been the message if she reached the top, since it would have proven how flawed the system is, but she never will. Some people claimed that it is not possible to reach the top because of how fast the platform goes, that it will just crash on the ceiling. I do not agree. There's no point in letting the platform crash each time so it will probably slow down enough to reach level 0, in facts we don't even know how tall level 1 is.

Someone also claimed that it's impossible that no one else ever reached the top through this method, which means to go all the way down to then come back up. First of all, it could have happened and that person could have been sent back down, but what I find most reasonable is that no one knows how deep the hole is, probably up to hell, and no one is brave enough to do it because no matter how bad your situation is, you're still afraid of having it worse. It's a suicidal mission which led to crazyness and then death even our brave characters.

Another reference I've loved is when it's mentioned that usually the poorest kill each other's to survive, while the richest have the highest rate of suicide. Why is that? Easy, they have nothing to endure, to live for, they have everything, they're not longing for the hope of food plus there's frightening in knowing that the next month it can only worsen.

So now the question remains: What is the ending then if the baby doesn't reach the top? The finale guys was right in front of our eyes, around the middle of the movie. Remember when the chef complains to other cooks about the hair in the pannacotta? That's the real ending: the pannacotta reaches the top (further proof that the platform won't crash) as the message but instead of being interpreted as a statement of insurrection, the level 0 workers believe it was sent back because there was a hair in there. This is the ultimate slap in the face, the final proof that those people are so out of touch, so blind towards what's happening downstairs that they think that was the issue, the hair in the pannacotta, without realizing that people are literally eating each others down there.

So, there was actually a satisfying finale which gave us answers, it's just that the finale was not at the end as usual.