#and also knowledge fight and off book as of late

[hamandeggbun]

[yois2aki]

੭୧ chishiya with a reader with adhd... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader (requested)

— warnings: fluffy, reader and chishiya are in a relationship, beach arc, maybe ooc chishiya...

— summary: chishiya's incredibly high patience seems to be the perfect match for his super active partner <3

— word count: 1k

to put it simply, you were an outcast among other players at the beach.

people around you would either wonder how you were still alive, while others tried to actively befriend you so later you would suffice as bait on a specially harder game, from the way you acted so naive around others. you didn't take long to become aware of that, since you've never been in a hotel with so many ears.

thankfully, you had chishiya by your side. and while some concluded that you were only alive due to your boyfriend's aid, it seemed like his interest in you was elsewhere.

it was true that you could get easily distracted from the point of a game and almost cause a big disaster, but this also happened to be a quality for you.

you would pay most attention to stuff that others might consider useless in a moment of desperation, such as fighting for their lives; however, it wasn't unusual for that same stuff to define the difference between living and dying.

observing the littlest of details in a wicked place like the borderlands was a big advantage for you, and perhaps that was the reason you managed to survive all the time. unfortunately, most people didn't realize that, and you ended up just staying inside chishiya's shadow. not that you really cared; you preferred to stay in your own little world.

now, with chishiya's knowledge of the medical field, he resonated with your keen observations. it didn't take long for him to conclude that your hyperactivity didn't come from anything else other than a probable case of adhd. it was never declared between both of you whether you were diagnosed or not, but he didn't need a confirmation to know how to deal with your personality.

chishiya was a very calm person, if not the calmest you've ever met. his patience and your sensitivity worked well together. while he got to have a very smart partner, in their own ways, you got to have someone to listen to your ted talks and bring you back to the world when needed.

he isn't sure when and how he fell for you. that was something he didn't dwell a lot on, deciding to simply accept his feelings and be glad they were reciprocated.

but for some reason, he could not take his eyes off of your figure. for example, as you excitedly ran around a store you practically begged him to visit. it made it even better that you were both in the borderlands, which meant no one else was there but you both and an occasional sound of air hitting the windows.

"look, look! that's what i was telling you about earlier." you said excitedly, dropping whatever you were looking at before on the ground and practically running to the other side to look at the thing that caught your eye.

chishiya didn't even realize he had a small smirk on his face, bending over with a sigh to pick up the item you left and placing it back on the spot. he always hated messes, but he didn't feel the necessity to tell you that.

he walked towards wherever you went, hands inside his pockets, as he stared at you with practically stars in your eyes.

if he looked outside, he would notice the sun already starting to set, and since you were still stuck in the borderlands, soon everything would become dark due to the lack of electricity.

"we should get going soon; it's getting late." he decided to inform already. it wasn't going to be pitch dark until about 40 minutes, but he would rather tell you now so that you could process everything in your mind instead of when it's actually late.

"'shiya, look," you said more silently this time, already forgetting about what you were holding before and now pointing to a pile of books. "i love this series! we should take some home and read together."

"we should..." he replied with that calm voice of his, which was basically therapy for you.

by the time you both arrived back at the beach and in your shared room, it was already dead of night. you heard chishiya place the three shopping bags full of collectibles that interested you in a corner of the room.

he could tell you were tired by this time of the day, as the first thing you did was change into comfier clothes, lie down on the king-sized bed, and close your eyes for some moments without any energy to even have fun with your newly found collection.

chishiya admired you for a few moments. something about seeing you so serene made him feel better immediately, given that falling asleep was always trouble for you.

he soon changed as well, lying in bed beside you. chishiya was never one for physical contact, and you knew that. most nights you spent together were made just lying down next to each other, comforted by the fact that both were there.

however, you suddenly felt an arm envelop your waist, pulling you considerably closer to his body. you lied still for a few seconds until he spoke up. "is this okay?"

you felt like you should be the one asking, but since he was reaching out, you simply reciprocated his touch. nodding your head as you lied on his chest.

most nights were trouble for you, especially since the beach is a very noisy place that disturbs the rest of many. you were no different. during moments where it was specifically worse, you would toss and turn on the bed until chishiya eventually noticed and intervened by holding you close, since it seemed to always calm you down. it made you feel warm inside, knowing he was willing to bypass his boundaries for your comfort.

you were lucky to have someone patient and understanding like him in your life. and he wouldn't trade you for anything.

— a/n: waaa this was so cute.... i'm sorry if it's shorter than my past fics i feel like the fluffiness burned my brain out mmghhh (๑>◡<๑) i hope you guys enjoyed it... it's the first time i'm posting proper fluff here and i tried to focus on it a bit more rather than chishiya's constant teasing. i still think he's a menace tho !!!! sorry if this has any mistake btw... i could barely proofread it's late rn but i'll check in the morning <:

[hisunshiine]

— a wager of lords & love | myg

♔ pairing: noble!yoongi x noble!reader

♔ au/genre: regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst

♔ rating: M

♔ wc: 6,813

⚔ warnings: reader’s mom is not alive, era-appropriate sexism, sex jokes, pet names, bedding ceremony, explicit smut: fingering, marking, light breast play, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, you will fall so hard for yoongi. 

♔ an: this story was written for Leah | @colormepurplex2​ as part of the BangtanWHQ Valentine’s Event “Picture Perfect”. Thank you to my beta readers: @downbad4yoongi​, @peachiilovesot7​, and @moonleeai​; this story was so much fun to write. Your feedback, as always, was valuable to making not only this story at it’s best but also making my day better when reading your comments. I love regency era au’s and this one only made me fall even more madly in love with Yoongi, and I hope you will too! Please enjoy!

“What in heaven’s name did I do last night?”

Yoongi groans as he rolls over in his plush bed sheets, sunlight streaming through the window at an ungodly hour. Ungodly, because he never sleeps in this late, but the Scottish whisky and late night at Lord Kim Namjoon’s manor has made him act out of character in more ways than one. 

*flashback to the previous evening*

“Yoongi, it has been too long since we’ve gotten together properly. You must come celebrate. It’s not every day that one as young as I is able to acquire more wealth than what feels like the King himself can own.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes from where he stands across the study from his large oak desk, hand gripping the telephone to his ear as he leans closer to the box on the wall to reply.

“I have a plethora of worries, Namjoon, and none of them can be solved by celebrating your wealth.”

“I beg to differ! Come! Have a drink and make merry, partake in some illicit pleasantries. I am sure that’s just what you need to clear your mind and find a resolution.”

“I doubt I will have a resolution by the night’s end, but against my better judgment, I will be there.”

And Yoongi made sure to keep his promise, strolling into the large manor filled to the brim with the most darling of debutantes from Daehurst to Ilsansterchire. He recalls the way the single women seemed to throw themselves at him, all fluttering eyelashes and demure smiles as if they were captivated by his looks and not the wealth they knew lay in wait for his future bride. 

The knowledge of his arrival spread like wildfire through the ballroom and Yoongi had felt himself grow flustered as a gaggle of pristine beauties crowded around him to fight for his attention. He kept his face nonplussed despite the rising anxiety creeping along his outer extremities and towards his chest. Luckily, the arrival of the Earl of Upton Busan and the Marquees of Gwangchester helped reduce the number of women in his presence.

Yoongi remembers pretending to be summoned by a friend, escaping into what he thought was an empty parlor that belonged to the late Lord Kim, but the sitting room, with two walls filled from floor to ceiling with books of all sizes and colors was, in fact, occupied. The large oak desk off to the side held an older gentleman, who also seemed to be happy in his solitude, hiding from the revelry.  

The man moved a jewel-encrusted chessman across a marble chess board before looking up at Yoongi, a slight nod of his head summoning Yoongi over to join him. He produced a bottle of Smokehead Islay single-malt scotch whisky that he’d been nursing, poured Yoongi a hefty serving into a Glencairn whisky glass, which he promptly swirled to open up the aromas for full appreciation before downing the entire portion.

He knows that this was the catalyst for the conversation of what was bothering him, and so Yoongi, lips loosened from his liquor intake, shared to whom he found out was the Marquees of Seoulshire, his predicament. How his late father’s younger brother, jealous of his position, was sowing distrust in the elder’s bloodline, touting the fact that his eldest son was already married and with an heir on the way, when Yoongi had yet to take a woman’s hand in marriage despite being five years older than his cousin.

Typically, this would not be such a strange thing; many male nobility did not wed until their late twenties, and Yoongi only recently turned his twenty-ninth year, but with his estranged uncle vying to take over the wealth and power of the entire family following his father’s passing, Yoongi had to procure a wife, and fast. 

Bonding with the elder nobleman, both introverts sequestered themselves with flowing, piquant beverages, and a small miniature of the only daughter of the Marquees produced for viewing, and thus, a drunken deal was struck for the hand of his only daughter to be wed in one week’s time to the Duke of Daehurst, Min Yoongi. That only daughter being none other than…

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. The white dress, with its cut right beneath your bosom, is stifling despite its beauty, and the body of the gown falls along your figure gently. The sleeves are loosely capped, a lace frill edging the cuffs and the line of your decolletage. Your hair is pinned up, with a tiara inlaid with precious stones as the centerpiece to secure the veil flowing down your back in place.

The gloved hand of your maid of honor, Eleanor, who you lovingly refer to as Ellie, reaches up to fluff the veil, nervous energy displacing itself as she holds back from igniting your ire again. You have only just calmed down as your lady’s maid, Charity, places the last of the thrown perfume bottles back on the vanity. You had catapulted them for good reason, you believe. For in a few minutes, you, the unmarried daughter of the Marquees of Seoulshire, will walk down the aisle in the Duke of Daehurst’s manor, towards a man you have never spoken to—have never met—where your traitorous father plans to give you away to become the Duchess of Daehurst. 

“Lady Eleanor, will you please take your spot at the door?” Charity asks quietly, following a quick rap on the door, and you feel your heart begin a mad dash within the cavity of your ribcage. As a woman, you have nothing—no power, no wealth of your own, even your title changes from your father to that of your future husband. Some of the things your father has bought you have traveled from your home to the Duke’s, but other items are expected to be bought new, because even they belong to your father. Your only worth lies in the ability to be a proper match for a nobleman and provide him with an heir to carry on his bloodline. 

A rush of anger quells the sadness this arranged marriage has left you feeling this past week, since your father went back on the one promise he made you: that you could marry for love, like he did with your late mother, rest her soul. 

You scoff at the thought that men should hold any power in society. In one moment, your own father forgot his loyalty as well as his promise to his only daughter. In a drunken stupor, two men agreed to trade you like chattel, your position in life changing in the blink of an eye. Useless, is what they are.

The door is open just a sliver, allowing in the swell of the music, and you hear the creak of the hinges as Ellie disappears down the hall. Your father stands in the corridor, his eyes staring at the floor, unable to meet yours. You can tell he feels rather guilty for the predicament he has forced on you, but with the knowledge that he is not actually mad at the match, you still feel furious. Marrying up in society may afford you a better life, not that you would have had a destitute one with your father’s title, you’d just hoped (and had been promised you would get) to be in love with the man waiting at the end of the aisle for you, instead of dreading the stranger you were about to meet. 

Barely able to focus, you feel out of body as your father wraps your arm through his and leads you down the same path Ellie took just moments before. You can see the archway that leads into the wedding hall where your family and friends wait to observe you promise to obey and cherish a man who was described to you by your father as a “rather strapping young man, who’s quiet but wise and with gentle eyes.”

Taking the turn into the room, all eyes are drawn to you as your eyes are drawn to him. He looks breathtaking. Is this truly the man your father made a drunken deal with? The two of you lock eyes, and you work to fix the shock from your face as his demeanor barely changes. In a blink, your father is placing your hand into the Duke’s, and you are able to take in his features up close.

His face is sharp, eyes angled in a cat-like manner that give the impression he is gazing into your soul and sees the truth you attempt to keep hidden. His hair, wavy and pitch black, is parted to the side where the length falls into his face in an alluring manner. It calls to you, wanting to tuck it behind his ear if only to touch his porcelain skin, unblemished and glowing. 

He watches you closely, eyes traveling across your frame as he follows your lead, drinking you in. You’re sure that you still look flawless, ever the blushing bride that Charity and Ellie made you up to be, and for a moment you wonder if the Duke is as taken by your looks as you are by his, before remembering that he is the enemy. 

The ceremony ends quickly, a recitation of words that will join you in holy matrimony, followed by words promising to remain faithful to one another until parted by death, and you find yourself face to face with the Duke. He takes a small ring from the man right behind him, Lord Kim Namjoon, who you recognize from his many visits to handle business with your father. 

“Like this ring, I shall endlessly provide for you and cherish you, until I no longer exist.”

You can hear Ellie swoon from the low tone his voice takes to deliver the sentiment as he stares into your eyes. Vulnerability flashes for a moment before he looks down, focus solely pointed towards the task of claiming you by way of a golden wedding ring, moonstone inlaid with tiny diamonds surrounding it. 

Ellie nudges you to hand you the ring provided for the ceremony by the Min family. It is a deep ebony, with a single thin gold stripe running across the middle of the band. The top is raised to a plateau, a moonstone carved with the Yeoheung Min Clan symbol set within the ring.  

Taking the regalia from her gloved palm, you recite your part with eyes on him. Despite your anger at the arrangement, he truly is breathtaking. It takes away from the sting of your words just barely, enough that you are able to deliver them without gagging on the bristling words.

“Like this ring, I shall endlessly obey and cherish you, until I no longer exist.”

You barely hear when the minister says that the two of you are free to share a kiss, but you dutifully keep your face calm as your stomach ties itself into knots. 

He leans closer, blush colored lips drawing closer until your eyes close with the contact. So soft…his lips tenderly settle against yours, slight pressure as he angles his head to receive you better, hands falling to your hips gently as he tugs you a step closer and it’s like the room disappears leaving just the two of you in it. 

All too soon the room comes back into focus as he steps away, face blushing as the room erupts into applause and cheer from the audience. The end of the ceremony is like a blur, and the next thing that you are aware of, you are seated for an early dinner and a reception in the Daehurst Manor Great Hall for guests to greet you and your new husband, leave expensive gifts, and offer kind words of advice for a long-lasting, happy marriage.

“Would it be weird to introduce myself to you, seeing as I am already your spouse?”

His voice is intriguing—having barely heard it during the ceremony—a low rumble that has you leaning in to hear him better. 

“I assure you, my lord, weird was deciding for me that I would marry you, without even bothering to meet me beforehand. What if I had been an ogre? But I digress, it’s not any weirder than hearing you call yourself my husband, husband.”

He smiles, one side of his mouth lifting in an amused smirk as he turns in his seat to face you head on. You dislike him even more that your snide remark made not a dent in his armor. No trace of the bashful hue from the kiss lingers, cat eyes glinting with mischief. 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my non-ogre wife. I am Duke Min Yoongi of Daehurst.”

Charity and Ellie can barely contain their laughter as they stare at your contemptuous face. Eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed, you shake your head rapidly in distaste at the bedding ceremony outfit they laid out for you. 

“I simply will not wear it.”

“Please, Lady Min, you will leave him stunned. It’s perfect.”

“Who said I want to stun that man? Besides, I cannot be seen in so little clothing by a stranger!”

“He’s hardly a stranger, love,” Ellie said, ignoring your stubborn nature. “He’s your husband.”

“Yes, my husband whom I have known all of two hours! I’m just expected to strut in wearing this to please him, and then—” you pause, stricken as your thoughts settle on what is expected of you.

“Yes, you will wear this very thoughtful gift from me, and then you will consummate the marriage!” Ellie whispers the act as if conspiring to commit a crime. To be fair, you felt like a criminal for how indecent the undergarments were. 

Laid on the bed was a short, white boned corset, all frill and lace with a matching pair of high waisted drawers. Ellie had also provided a matching pair of white stockings, made of silk and to be held up with ruffled garters at your thigh. There was a silky chemise that you could wear as a tunic to cover yourself, but once in the Duke’s bedroom, he would see you in all of your risque glory. 

“Come now, m’lady, we must finish getting you ready. I am sure the men are chomping at the bit to begin the ceremony.”

Dread fills you as you strip from your wedding dress and step into the lingerie your maid of honor gifted you for your wedding night.

“Well, they can just chomp a bit longer, maybe they can tire each other out enough that I am not needed tonight.”

Having only bathed two hours prior, you are able to skip the bath and spend a few more precious moments with your closest friends. You didn’t have a mother to talk to about things like bedding ceremonies, having learned everything you could from the head house matron, kitchen maids, Charity, and Ellie. Ellie was able to convince her own mother to share a little this past week to help you, but there was still so much you felt you did not know to expect. 

As Charity brushes your hair, Ellie spreads a glittering, perfumed powder onto your skin as she talks in the background of the excitement she feels, but you cannot bring yourself to share in it. With a quick twist and pin, your hair is up and you find your feet leading towards the Duke’s wing of the manor. You can hear the merrymaking from the reception still carrying on downstairs; with a wedding as important as yours, you were sure that the people would be here celebrating your union until the sun began to rise.

The door to the Duke’s room is ajar, loud laughter coming from the well lit room. Ellie walks arm in arm with you as Charity follows behind, seeing you off. As your lady’s maid, she’ll reside with you in the Daehurst manor. The housekeeper stands a few paces from the door to lead Charity to her new quarters. Bidding you goodnight, Charity retires for the evening as you and Ellie enter the bedchamber. It is quite spacious, with a large bed in the middle of the room. To the left of the entryway sits a low table surrounded by a pair of armchairs and a matching loveseat, all framed by a magnificent fireplace. 

Every seat is taken, with three men squeezing onto the loveseat and a sixth perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. You don’t recognize five of the six men, though Lord Kim Namjoon is among them. You do not see your new husband, so you and Ellie remain standing away from the men so as not to be seen as indecent. 

“Duchess! You have arrived for your bedding ceremony, have you not?” A blond haired man nearly falls from the love seat, giggles alerting you to his inebriation. An open decanter sits on the squat table, almost empty. 

“Please, Jimin, on all things that are holy, do not bother my wife.”

Your head whips around at the gravely sound of the Duke’s voice. Yoongi looks freshly bathed, no longer in a suit but in a long tunic that sits untucked over loose, black trousers. His dark hair falls in damp curls framing his face, and you hold in a small gasp. 

“I won’t bother her hole-y, hyung—that’s your job! Get her all hot and bother—”

“Get out.”

The giggling, intoxicated men all look to Yoongi, pouting with various levels of frowns and scowls adorning their faces. You and Ellie watch the interaction, Ellie with a smile at their banter and you with a grimace as you attempt to keep yourself from growing warm at the indecent remarks regarding what is to come.

“But hyung!” You watch as another one pouts, standing from the loveseat to full height to plead with your husband. “You’re the first to be wed, we’ve been talking about being witnesses for each other for years!” 

“Taehyung, you know the plan was to be here when she arrived as a testament to the wedding night, but never to stay. I appreciate your…excitement, but now that you can confirm the duchess’s arrival, you all may take your leave.”

“Appreciate our excitement, but won’t let us stay to watch as you get exci—”

“Jungkook, that’s enough! Out, now!”

With a groan, the three mischievous men begin to walk out of the bedchamber, waving at the older three who are slow to get up. Ellie squeezes your hand in unity before stepping away to follow the boisterous group out into the hall. 

“I’ll see you at breakfast, love. I’ll be traveling back to Seoulshire with your father tomorrow afternoon.”

You can only nod, aware of the plans but seeing her linger to make sure that you are okay. You give her a smile, and she finally steps through the threshold behind the first troupe of men to return back to the room you had prepared in. The last three men follow, greeting you and saying goodnight in the same breath.

“It is a pleasure to see you, my lady. I pray that by morning you are able to turn this peevish man affable.”

“Enjoy your night, Duchess!” 

“Yeah, all two minutes of it!”

Yoongi thunders to the door, shutting it as the group bursts into laughter muffled by the oak barrier. He turns the lock, then turns his back to it to lean against. You can’t help but to watch him, chest rising before he releases a long sigh. He reaches a hand up to his neck, scratching subtly. The sleeve of his tunic slides along his arm, revealing more unblemished skin. His head is facing the carpet, ink-colored hair falling to cover his face—a face you think you could like very much—eventually. Though right now, even the thought is not enough to quell your irritation at your welcoming. 

“I am so sorry for my friends’ behavior.”

His apology startles you. You are not used to men of his prestige to be so easy to offer an apology. During the wedding and at the reception, he appeared stoic, quiet and observing except for the few moments he engaged with you. You assumed it was just happenstance, that he was playing off of your stubborn jests, but seeing him now so open makes you wonder.

“My lord, no need to apologize. They were inebriated and excited for our coupling. Ellie was excited too, though she was better at keeping it hidden.”

“Yes, women do tend to be better at that. More practiced.”

“Do you truly believe that? I have watched my father work, and all noblemen seem to be very good at hiding their emotions.”

Yoongi smirks at your wit, pushing off of the door and walking closer to you.

“You are quite keen, my lady.”

His compliment startles you, as does his encroaching proximity. It is not menacing, if anything you are startled by your body’s response to it. His scent, a heady, woodsy musk infiltrates your senses causing any lingering animosity you had towards your father for this arrangement to seep from you. You’re tired of fighting; the knowledge of having lost before even starting lingering in your mind each time you fight back against the marriage has exhausted you. Still, you want to make sure that the Duke is aware that while you may be acquiescent, you are not easily compliant.

“My lord, I—” you look down at your hands, stumbling over your anger as you collect your thoughts. “I just want to say that I know neither of us wanted this, neither of us knew what to expect until we saw each other today, but I made a vow, so I promise to try my best, but I don’t know what I’m doing or what you expect from me, and I don’t think that I will be good at obeying, so please do not expect that from me. You may be a duke and my husband, but I demand that you treat me as an equal—”

“Shhh…” Yoongi’s thumb and forefinger grip your chin, tilting your head up to face him. You have no idea when he got so close. “I spent quite some time with your father, my lady. He spoke very highly of you and even produced your miniature from his coat pocket to show me. I may have been drunk, but I was not a fool in my decision.” His eyes rove across your face as he gently tilts your head side to side. “You are much more beautiful than the painting captured.”

If he’s hoping that flattery will tamper your annoyance, you feel he will need to try a bit harder. Though, to be fair, his flattery is working on you. Pair that with his face, and he’s doing quite a good job at putting out the fire, but you still remain steadfast. 

“How lucky to be a man. You got to see a sample of the product before buying, while I just had to trust that my father wasn’t so drunk that he sold me to the next man who walked past?” You scoff, crossing your arms as you raise your chin out of his hold in defiance.

“Trust me, princess, the luck was all mine. Had I not been the next man to walk by, who knows what woman I would have had to settle for.”

You can’t believe he’s teasing you. Calling you princess and making jokes off of your distress. You want to smack the smirk off his face. You want to kiss him again like at the altar. You’re clearly confused after such a long day of upheaval. 

“Right, because any woman should be grateful that you chose them? I was promised I would get to marry for love, just to wake up and be told I was marrying a stranger in a week.”

“Are you really angry because of this arrangement? Not that you should be grateful that I chose you, but you should be thankful for the life that you have, even before me. Not everyone lives how we do.”

Shock. That’s the only way to explain what you are feeling. He is not…man-splaining society’s plights to you, is he?

“I quite know this, my lord. I never said I was not grateful for my life, just that I am currently upset at a promise being broken.”

“Princess, I am sure you know this, but in your stubbornness, you seem to have forgotten yourself. You have a good life, you have food on the table prepared daily by the cooks and maids, and are not having to whore yourself out for a few coins to feed yourself.”

“No, I just have to whore myself to you for the rest of my life, provide you with heirs as soon as possible.” You decide to not hold back; if he’s going to be vulgar as a tactic, two could play at that game. “I may not be whoring myself out for a few coins to feed myself, but let’s not kid ourselves. We both know that I am not seen as anything more than a vessel for your cock and your children to use.”

“Tell me, princess, are you upset because you truly think me some evil, vile man, or are you actually more upset that you don’t have a real reason to push me away?” 

Yoongi steps away from you, walking over the bed and settling down on the edge. You can’t help but watch the way his veins move as he leans back and rests on his palms. He’s so handsome and so assured of himself, and behaving as if he doesn’t even care that it’s your wedding night. You really don’t know how to explain how you’re feeling, because everything is at odds. He mistakes your silence during your internal debate as confusion and continues to explain.

“I know I’m not unappealing to the eye, and not an old geezer like many of your friends have had to deal with, I’m sure. We probably aren’t that far off in age difference, if there even is any. We’re young, and while you may be feeling angry about this marriage, I also get the feeling that you’ll be open to letting that anger go soon.”

“I barely know you, my lord, so please don’t take offense to this, but what, pray tell, gives you the feeling that I’ll be letting my anger go soon?” you ask, walking over to where he sits. You feel powerful as you position yourself right in front of him, and being above him like this with his head turned up in order to lock eyes with you, makes his cat eyes look even more alluring.

“Because, my dear wife,” Yoongi leans forward, entering your space as he brings his right arm up off the bed and to your thigh, “of what I plan to do to you tonight.”

Yoongi’s touch is like fire as he drags it up your thigh to the hem of your chemise, using both hands to grip the edge and pull you even closer to him. You inhale a breath, your body giving away just how much he affects you. The last tiny bit of you fights to not give in, that is, until he pouts up at you.

“If you’ll let me?”

Never have you experienced a man handing control over to you like this. All your life, you have been told what to do, how to behave, who to befriend, and even who to marry despite being promised that would be the one area you could decide. But here sits your husband, a man who quite literally holds you in his hands, able to do whatever he wants with your body now that he essentially owns you—this husband of yours is asking your permission to ruin you.

Unable to speak, you simply nod, eyes wide as he stands, and he never looks away from yours until your chemise blocks his view as he pulls it over your head. Now it’s his turn to inhale sharply as he takes in your angelic form. White lace corset ending just below the bust, high waisted lacy bottoms, ruched garters around each thigh with a clasp to hold your silk stockings in place…an angel, indeed. 

Leaning closer to you, his words send tingles down your body as he pleads with you.

“I need you to say it, my lady,” he whispers, “tell me that I can touch you here.” 

You jolt as you feel his hands touch the exposed skin of your side.

“Y-yes,” you say, clearing your throat due to how parched you sound. 

“And can I, say, touch you here?” One hand trails lower, fingers dancing over the front of your drawers as the other holds you in place. Two of his fingers slide between your thighs, pressing against your core, and you sigh out a quiet moan.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good girl.”

His fingers continue to travel back and forth, slight pressure causing you to grasp his shoulders for balance. He drops his head into the bend of your neck, lips leaving wet kisses on your overheated skin. He smells divine, his long hair tickling your cheek as he continues kissing and touching you. Your breathing gets louder, and he responds in kind, speeding up his fingers as you feel yourself ruining your panties for this man. 

“Y-yoongi…that f-feels really good,” you tell him, surprise lacing your whimpers. You don’t want him to stop touching you, if anything you want more. Yoongi’s lips are latched onto your neck, tongue swirling with light pressure as your knees grow weak. With a light nip of his teeth, he pulls away to speak. 

“I want you to always feel good with me, princess.” His gravelly voice is full of yearning, and you can tell he’s just as affected as you are. “I promise you’ll always feel good, if you let me take care of you.”

You can only nod your head, words eluding you as he turns you in his hold, pressing your back to his front while letting his fingers slide inside of your panties and part your lips. You feel his length pressing between your cheeks, thick and firm. He steps backwards with you, pulling you down until the two of you are seated on the edge of the bed. You’ve never been so turned on, dropping your head back to lean on his shoulder as he pulls one thigh to open you up wider. 

You put up no fight, instead grinding down on him as you swirl your hips in time to the pads of his fingers circulating your dripping center. His lips reattach to your exposed neck, this time with more passion and it almost distracts you when his fingers dip inside of you, bucking once in his grip at the welcome intrusion. He’s gentle, only going as far as you let him, and the more he does it, the less you tense up, until he’s gliding in and out of you. 

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer, every breath letting out a moan that is a melody to Yoongi’s ears. 

“I…Yoongi, I think…I’ve never done this before, what’s happening?” you breathe out, and he chuckles darkly.

“Do you trust me?”

“I—”

“I promise it’ll feel good, okay? Trust me, and don’t fight it.”

“But—” his fingers don’t let up, and you squirm on his lap.

“Princess, be a good girl and trust me, don’t fight it—don’t fight me anymore.”

“O-okay, I trust you, Yoongi.”

Letting go, you relax into his hold as he resumes kissing your neck, left hand pulling your chin until your lips meet his in a sloppy sideways kiss. His foot presses against the inside of yours until you groan at the muscle strain. Your legs are so far apart, but it feels even better as his fingers begin a rapid thrusting. He swallows all of your whimpers as you feel your body reaching a peak and it all just feels so good, his free hand leaving your chin to touch your chest, hands roaming as you rock your hips to meet his palm against your sensitive nub and with a simultaneous bite to your bottom lip and pinch to your neglected nipple; you feel yourself combust. 

You swear you see fireworks behind your eyelids as you tremble in Yoongi’s arms, barely alert enough to hear him whispering words of praise as he works you through it. It’s not long (or has it been ages?) before your hands push at his, overstimulation causing you to mewl in frustration. 

It feels good and you don’t want to stop, but your body can’t take more. Not right now at least.

“That’s it, you did so well.”

“Me?” you question, voice raspy. “I didn’t even do anything but sit here.”

“Trust me, you did plenty. I think you can feel exactly what you did to me.” Yoongi alludes with a slight thrust of his hips, and you in fact do feel him.

“That’s because of me?”

“It’s all because of you. Your sounds, the way you were grinding onto me, the way you taste…” Yoongi slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking your essence from his two fingers lewdly. “You made me this way.”

Your face grows impossibly warmer at the thought of the power you have over a man such as he, and your ability to bring him to this level of vulnerability. 

“Does…does it always feel like that?” you question, wondering if it could possibly get better. 

Yoongi can barely contain his smirk, “Oh, dear wife, that was just the appetizer.”

    Lifting you off of his lap, he sets you down next to him so he can stand and shed himself of his clothing. Naked, he stands before you in all of his glory so you can take in just how well endowed the duke is before kneeling on one knee. 

“Can I take these off of you?” he asks, hands gesturing to your hips. You softly say yes, and once your ruined drawers are discarded, he then touches the sides of your corset. “And these?” Nodding, he leaves you in just your silk stockings. “I rather like how these look…”

Still kneeling, he takes your leg and leans you back until you’re sprawled on your back and he has a perfect view of your heated core. He kisses along your clothed leg until he reaches the skin of your thigh, biting lightly until he rests your leg on his shoulder. Turning to the other leg, he does the same, this time going all the way up. You throw your head back into the soft, satin sheets as your hands grip whatever they can. His tongue explores your sensitive area, lapping at your pearl until you’re incoherent, hands tugging at his long tresses to guide him where you want him.

There are no words to describe how Yoongi is making you feel. You’ve never felt this way before, so powerful or in control. You wonder if he’ll always be this willing to hand over the reins. Either way, you plan to savor it. 

The sounds coming from between your thighs are obscene, but the louder and sloppier Yoongi is, the better it feels. 

“Yoongi, oh!” Your toes curl as another wave of euphoria grips you. Tender kisses along your stomach just barely keep you from floating away as Yoongi brings himself higher and higher along your body. His teeth nip at your breasts, teasing as he laves his tongue around your nipples, perky against the air in the room. Chest heaving, you try to gather your wits as Yoongi’s naked body lays along yours, his hands on either side of your chest as he massages them, spending ample time tasting everything your body has to offer. 

“My lady, if you’re ready, I’d rather like to feel you.”

In your post climactic haze, you try and understand what he’s asking.

“Feel me?”

“Yes,” he says, kissing your neck and you don’t understand how your body can still crave for more just from his lips on your skin, “I rather ache for you, princess.” The meaning becomes clear when he adjusts himself over you, and you feel the thickness against your thigh. You are aware of what he needs, how he means to alleviate his ache, and for a moment, you’re scared.

It all fades away as he kisses you, his lips soft against yours as he soothes away the worry. 

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. If it hurts, just tell me to stop, okay?” he presses another kiss to your lips, and you melt.

“Okay,” you whisper as you pull away from the kiss, “I trust you.”

He smiles, this time a genuine one at your words before kissing you again. You feel yourself getting lost in it when a pressure at the apex of your thighs causes you to gasp. Breaking the kiss, you look between your body and Yoongi’s watching as his cock, flushed and rigid, breaches your core. He’s going slow, and he lowers himself back down to kiss you more, wanting to take your mind off of the pain as he fills you. 

“You’re…impossibly tight…” he pants, and you would laugh if you were in the mindset, but at the moment, you are all consumed by Yoongi. He pushes another inch, stopping to allow you to grow accustomed to him, and you know that this is unusual for a wedding night—you have heard the horror stories from other women, and this has been anything but. Yoongi has made sure to let you have ownership of your pleasure tonight, and even now, he looks to you for confirmation that he can continue on without hurting you.

Raising your hips, you help guide him in the rest of the way, and he grunts as his forehead touches yours. His arms shake as he holds himself above you, wanting to take you with haste, but knowing he must control himself for now.

Reaching for him, your palms settle on either side of his face, bringing him closer to kiss you as you roll your hips against him. He huffs, pulling out to give you a good, even stroke, and you nearly scream at the pleasure and pain of it. He apologizes against your lips, but you shake your head, urging for more. He complies, though slower this time, not wanting to scare you off from sharing his bed. Yoongi is so gentle, sweet even as he swivels his hips, and you move your hands to grip his hair and his shoulder, leveraging to meet him with every gyration of your lower body.

A few tugs to his hair leaves him cursing in gratification, and soon you feel his hand reach to your leg to lift. His thighs speed up as he thrusts haphazardly into you before you feel a hot release of his seed filling you and spilling out around his cock, now lazily unloading itself as he slows with each jolt. His release provides you with just what you need to follow him, walls clenching around him to milk the last drop.  

Sighing, the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Yoongi’s fingers smoothing your hair as yours play along his chest, a feverish color now spread across his decolletage after your love making. 

“I’ve never experienced such a blissful feeling as this,” you admit. 

“Likewise, my lov—my lady.” Yoongi corrects a slight slip of the tongue. 

“It’s okay, I think I could quite like being called your love,” you tease, though your words ring true. You now know what you felt with Yoongi. Liberation. A freedom you have never felt as a woman, provided to you in the most surprising of places: the arms of a man.

At breakfast the next morning, Ellie can’t help but notice the way you seem to glow as you sit at your husband’s side. The two of you can’t stop touching, whether it be holding hands or light touches to each other's arm as you two talk with the others who stayed overnight. Being married may not have been what you had seen for yourself a week ago, but after last night, you have a feeling that you could fall deeply in love with your husband, the Duke, and he with you, his Duchess. 

“Marriage isn’t all that bad, is it, my love?” Yoongi whispers as the maids pass around the breakfast foods, and you shift your gaze to the marks you left barely hidden by his collar from an early morning romp. 

“No, my love, I rather find that you have proven me wrong, and I quite like that.”

“And I quite like you.”

“You had better!”

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

[mrghostrat]

Hello and good morning/day/night :]

I was wondering, in BNF, we’ve gotten tiny little bits of information about the ‘Nice and Accurate Prophecies’ (not sure if that’s the correct title, sorry) book and TV series, if there was anything else you could tell us about it?

Character names, storylines, plots, any fun details you may have made up or otherwise, etc, etc.

I just think it’s sweet how interested both Aziraphale and Crowley are in the series, and if you might be as interested, if not more, in it too.

Thank you, and have a lovely Sunday. 🫶

this is it, my leash has snapped, i'm wild in the streets, thank u for asking; i'm gonna go be insufferable now

(hi @neil-gaiman if you see this, i think it's safe to read, but it does border on being fan fic. i'm writing a fic where crowley and aziraphale are an artist + writer in an online fandom, much like we are for good omens, and this is the fake story i've made for them to be fans of 💛)

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy

info dump of the fake 5 book series by Agnes Nutter (1985-1992) and its fake fandom:

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy

The Strange and Improbable Prophecy

The Vague and Perfidious Prophecy

The Tense and Harrowing Prophecy

The Faint and Ineffable Prophecy

a dramatic, layered story with a bizarre and unexpectedly lovable cast of characters, humour that hits you out of nowhere, and a lot of attitude from the narrator. a la Good Omens, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

fantasy/historical fantasy and mildly action & romance

a la good omens, a witch and a witchfinder become friends and help each other throughout history, despite being on opposite sides. they get closer as they fight against the immoral plays from their prospective sides (the witchfinder army and a demonic cult the witch was born into) that each lose sight of their core values in a bid to hold more power over the world.

the story is set primarily in a medieval fantasy era, but suddenly jumps to the present in the later books, catching everyone off guard and giving a whole new context to enjoy the story. the challenges they face parallel the earlier story but in a modern take with modern technological twists. the modern era is the late 80s, since that's when it was written.

the witch reincarnates, similar to doctor who, due to a high class black magic ritual they performed in their arrogant youth (which they were NOT supposed to have access to). they've had long lifetimes where they die of old age, and others where they've barely managed to live a year. their reincarnations aren't entirely random; they will reincarnate according to their growth and preferences as a person (a la Magical Boy's magical outfit generations), which includes fluctuation in gender identity. their pronouns fluctuate depending on each "face" they wear, but have canonically been a "they" before. the good side of the fandom (crowley & aziraphale) default to they/them as an overall rule. they do have a name, but they like to change that too, so the fandom almost exclusively calls them witch, or witchy.

the witchfinder also has a name, but the fandom have taken to calling him witchfinder to match the fact that witchy is called by their role. it also helps that a lot of the witchfinder narration refers to him by role instead of name. he is human, 30ish in appearance, but at the end of the first book, the witch fears to lose him and curses him with immortality against his knowledge to try and keep him safe.

witch is crowley-coded, witchfinder is aziraphale-coded. my to-do list includes an illustration of the two of them played by michael and david :') but i picture them being kind of like newt and anathema for the most part.

ship names include witch/finder, witchwitch, w² or witch², and witchfound.

at the start of the first book, they meet and become friends without knowing each other is a witch & finder. the witchfinder is a bit bumbly, like newt, and the witch is cool and suave but neurotic and insecure like many human au variations of crowley (major overcompensation vibes). witch is male at the start of the first book. their friendship is secure when witch finds out he's a witchfinder, so there's less "oh my god i'm friends with the enemy, is he going to kill me in my sleep?" and more "ah fuck, Lets Drink About This"

there's battles, horseback riding, camping out in dark woods, disappearing and losing each other for months at a time, and many missed connections as they try to work together against two common enemies, whilst keeping up the facade that they're on their respective team's sides.

there's charged chemistry in the first book, but it's more plot heavy. there's hints of shippy moments in the 2nd book that fall in between the plot. there's a Moment of almost confession in the 3rd book, and a non romantic kiss towards the end (we gotta, for neil). they're pretty much married in the 4th book, securely at each other's side, but never actually talk about it until the end, and there's a more explicitly stated shippy connection in the 5th book.

agnes herself is a total recluse who drops books out of nowhere then goes back to existing somewhere in the english countryside (people presume). she's happy to supply signed copies to fundraisers and conventions, and sometimes random bookshops across the country will be vandalised with genuine autographs on the inside covers. she's notoriously pedantic about being involved with adaptions behind the scenes, but she has no social media and isn't ~around~. she once did a talk when she was presented with an honorary doctorate, and did a single book signing when the first Prophecy book came out, but beyond that she keeps to herself.

there are a small handful of quotes from her in behind-the-scenes footage talking vaguely about character intensions and clarifying world building, but she likes to leave things up to interpretation like neil does. it's in these few snippets of interaction we've seen from her that she's steadfastly supportive of intersectionality and lgbt rights, like staring dead-eyed at an interviewer when they ask her a ridiculously heteronormative question about the characters (like "have you read my books?")

adaptions include:

(most adaptions start like the book, with a male witch at the beginning that turns into a female witch when they first regenerate. the early ones usually change the pacing by switching to a female actor by the time they realise witchfinder is a witchfinder, unlike in the book where he's male for this scene, and there's way less Charged™ chemistry between the m/m witch/finder.)

Feature Film: late 90s, kind of cheesy, but good spirited fantasy (a la Indiana Jones). focuses on the first book alone, with hints to a sequel that never happened.

Abandoned TV Pilot: early 2000s, a little too dramatic but still a good time (a la the Dungeons and Dragons 2000, ASOUE 2004). good source of gifs and Moments™ but the fandom is generally Fine with it being abandoned.

Stage Performance: late 2000s-early 2010s, a stellar stage adaption of the first book with elements of the 90s movie. f/m witch/finder the whole way through. one cast used m/m actors but it was a short run and only a handful of fans were lucky enough to catch or remember it. crowley would give his left arm (or someone's, anyway) to have experienced it, so a fan sent him some flip phone camera footage of it that he keeps on a harddrive in his safe.

HBO Streaming Series: late 2010s-present, high quality, highly revered, resurged the fandom's popularity and spread the series further overseas. made in america, but doesn't try to americanise the series. extremely respectful to the books, with easter eggs to the film, and is working its way through the entire book series (a la The Witcher netflix series). f/m witch/finder, but has had one episode that included some flash backs/montages of different witch faces. probably like 15 minutes total screentime of a male witch played by a ncuti gatwa level/style of actor, which the fandom has giffed, edited, and screencapped to oblivion.

Several bonus books: Agnes has written a few extra books (a la The Unauthorized Autobiography of Lemony Snicket and The Beatrice Letters), as well as curated some anthologies from other authors (a la A Study In Sherlock). there are a total of 3 anthologies so far, in which other authors have written stories about the characters in their own tellings. basically like canonised, published fan fiction, curated and authorised by agnes herself. There's also an unfinished graphic novel that retells the book series (a la The Adventure Zone comic), but has been WIP/unheard of since the 3rd book.

[walkintomymystery]

Fall Into Me

(Set after Sonic 3 - Alternate Ending)

Defeated, world-weary, and impossibly lost, Shadow allows himself to be taken back into G.U.N custody. While his fate is decided, he is housed in a secret facility hidden deep in the heart of one of the country’s National Parks. Still reeling from the heartbreaks that have shaped his life, Shadow never expected to find the closest thing to a home he’d known in over fifty years.

Pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x Original Female Character

Warnings: i’m gonna be putting this hedgehog in some situations so expect existential dread, guilt, self-hatred, depressive tendencies but also a lot of love and friendship

A/N: this story will take place immediately after the end of Sonic 3, the plot of which i had completely guessed at when i started writing this, but now i’ve seen (and loved) the film, this is now officially an AU with a bit of plot divergence! i am also still very much an entry-level fan, i’m kind of rediscovering everything i loved about this world, so bear with me if there are any mistakes!

//

Chapter One

Evening had fallen. That was all Shadow could glimpse of the outside world. That, and the dizzying blur of trees flashing by.

The transport van was cramped and uncomfortable, but that was all Shadow had known for the past fifty years. He’s spent his whole life in captivity, his current circumstances weren’t novel in the slightest. Perhaps he should have relished the opportunity to stretch his legs and breathe in the fresh air while he had the chance. Too late now.

The metal walls that blocked him in rattled and shook as the van trundled down seemingly endless narrow roads. The whole vehicle vibrated at a bone-trembling pitch; Shadow’s body had started to feel numb after just a few minutes into his journey. G.U.N cared little for his comfort.

Time passed with agonising lethargy. When there was nothing but the constant, sluggish drone of the engine and one image out the window to occupy his mind, the minutes dragged by as if through molasses.

More trees rushed past. The small, opaque window in the side of the van was high above his head and granted him a limited view, but Shadow could catch glimpses of their rounded, bulging bases. They were tall, far taller than he would’ve thought possible, and their branches stretched and reached for each other like grasping hands.

A forest, then. It had to be. Shadow closed his eyes and tried to summon a map of the area. His limited knowledge of the surrounding terrain irked him.

He wished he’d taken more time to memorise the roads, the towns, the whole damn continent, but he had some vague idea of where he was. Or he used to. He couldn’t remember seeing a forest on any map. But then, it hadn’t seemed important at the time.

He opened his eyes again and stared out of the tiny window. So many trees. Had he ever seen so many? They were different from how he’d imagined them. The flat, lifeless images in the books he had once studied hardly came close to the towering pines that rushed by.

In all the information he and Maria had devoured about the Earth, in all their wildest dreams, he was sure neither of them could have imagined how these giants would look up close. They were so full of life. So green. He was a long way from the ARK.

Shadow curled his fingers into tight fists, making the thick handcuffs that bound him stretch and creak. One of G.U.N’s soldiers had nervously slapped them round his wrists, possibly thinking he’d fight back. He was right to be nervous, but for some reason, Shadow let him, then allowed himself to be led into the back of this van to head off into the night.

Shadow eyed the van doors. They were heavy and firmly sealed, but surely not strong enough to hold him. Even if he did try to escape, it would be difficult to find his way. They would locate him, capture him, and shove him back in this van with much less civility than they had the first time.

He sank back in his seat, a painfully hard wooden bench attached to the wall with thick chains.

An uncomfortable thought settled onto Shadow’s weary shoulders. Even if he weren’t completely lost, he had nowhere to go. Even if he did get away, even if he could figure out where he was, he had nothing, no mission to urge him onwards, no reason to keep going at all.

If he wanted to, if he really wanted to, he could be free. He could run and run until his body finally failed. But what was the point? What did it matter? Freedom to him was as nebulous and vague as a dream. Even in his youth, when Shadow thought he had the whole world at his feet, autonomy had been an illusion. He had always been owned, bartered over, and controlled.

Silent and hollow, he watched as any hope of breaking out, of finding his own way, slipped like sand through his fingers.

He had nothing. He was nothing. And he’d never known any different. There was nowhere to go. No one to run to. He was aimless, directionless, completely without purpose. Whatever the humans wanted with him, perhaps he should just let them do it.

One of Shadow’s ears flicked. The slightest whir of hydraulics, pads pressing against rotating discs. Grinding metal. Friction. Brakes. Silence finally cut through the roar of combustion and the old engine sank into sleep.

They’d arrived.

His whole body tensed instinctively. This was the moment. This was where he decided if he was going to fight tooth and nail to get away from these awful, violent humans, or stay docile, let them put him back into that godforsaken tank, and allow them to switch him off for another fifty years.

It would be easier. It would be so much easier. Shadow could be alone with his dreams once more, a peaceful place where there was no noise, no tang of copper on his tongue, and no one wanted anything from him.

In his dreams, it was just him and his sister, laying side by side in a meadow of stars. Shadow had nowhere to be, no one to answer to, just the deep navy sky and her gentle voice. He’d never know a heaven, but he was sure that was as close as he would get.

A sudden shout caught his attention.

Through the thick walls of the van, he could interpret very little, even with his excellent hearing, but Shadow’s ears swivelled in the direction of a second voice. The muffled sounds rose suddenly, then fell silent again.

Shadow straightened his back. He waited. Nothing. He held his breath.

A sudden, shrill hiss split the monotony in two. Shadow whipped his head around, eyes wide, to find a thick, grey gas spilling in through the crack between the van’s doors.

He jolted, instincts kicking in, and scrambled to his feet. They’d taken his shoes when he was arrested, but even if they hadn’t, there wasn’t nearly enough room to build up the momentum and speed he’d need to burst out of the van.

The thick, curling gas pooled on the floor around his feet, rising quickly like water until it was up to his neck.

Blind with panic, Shadow swung his bound hands against the driver’s cabin, sending a shockwave through the van’s metal sides.

He stumbled and fell into the wall, the gas obscuring his vision, his thoughts. He tried to shout but his tongue was heavy in his mouth.

“Hey!” Shadow swung his hands against the cabin again, throwing his whole weight behind it. “Hey! Anyone!”

But there was no response.

Shadow stumbled back and fell into the bench. All he could see now was a grey haze. Though he tried to hold his breath, it seeped into his lungs, his racing heart forcing his body to pull in more and more of the toxic oxygen.

His head felt foggy but he had just the wherewithal to climb up onto the bench, trying in vain to get away and find a pocket of clean air, but there was none.

Shadow’s eyes began to grow heavy. He fought against sleep but his body felt clumsy and unresponsive. He swung his hands one final time against the side of the van and barely made a sound.

He felt his head loll against his chest as the world blurred all around him. At the edges of his vision, a darkness crept steadily closer, until it had overwhelmed his acute senses.

Gravity turned on him, and the last thing Shadow knew was the floor rushing up to meet him, before the world went black.

/

He was in the medbay. He knew before he opened his eyes. The reek of disinfectant, the squeak of rubber shoes against the polished tile floor, the constant noise of the machines. He knew it all by heart, a symphony of pain and longing.

Shadow woozily raised his heavy eyelids. His whole body ached. It was a familiar feeling but not one he’d known for some time. The doctor used to send him for evaluation every month or so, then every two weeks as Maria grew weaker-

Maria.

Shadow’s eyes widened as she suddenly appeared before him, floating above his hospital bed like a pale spirit. She was sickly white, practically translucent. Ghostly and faint, her wide blue eyes gazed down at him emptily.

“Shadow…”

Hardly able to catch his breath, he tried to raise his hand up to touch her but his body refused to cooperate. Shadow tried to blink but an age seemed to pass between his eyes closing and opening again.

“Shadow, you’re hurting me…”

Panic tightened his chest. He looked down, following the cannula as it ran down her chest to where it tangled with another.

With agonising sluggishness, Shadow tried to raise his hand to help her, and found the other cannula attached to his own nose.

“Shadow, it hurts, please…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Shadow wrapped his fingers around the plastic tube and tried to rip it from his nose but it was stuck fast. With every sharp tug, the cannulas only seemed to tighten and twist further, until they were impossibly intertwined.

“I’m sorry, Maria, I’m trying. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Hot tears began to fall from her dull eyes, hitting his cheeks, his forehead and his jaw like bullets.

The more he tried to pull at the tubes that connected them, the more Maria cried and the more suffocated he felt, until Shadow was clawing for breath.

He could only watch, paralysed, as a thin river of scarlet blood began to dribble from her nose, staining his white fur, the bed-

The transport van tripped over a dip in the road, forcing Shadow into consciousness with a jolt.

He gasped for breath, pulling in a huge lungful of air to steady his pounding heart.

Four blank walls stared back at him. He was still in the van. Shadow stared at the doors, then lifted his head to the roof. No sign of any gas. He couldn’t smell any trace of it. Just a dream. It was all just a bad dream.

Slowly, his tensed muscles began to relax, and Shadow sank back against the wall behind him.

It wasn’t like him to fall asleep like that. He didn’t need to rest, his power made sure of that. It was only something he indulged in when he needed to pass the time, or when Maria would beg him to snooze beside her in her hospital bed. He could only allow himself to sleep when he was sure that he was completely safe, and he definitely wasn’t now.

Shadow pushed down the anxious uncertainty that rose in his chest and forced himself to focus on the present.

The transport van was freezing. It had crept up on him slowly. Nothing at first, then a gnawing chill. Shadow found he had to keep tensing his muscles to encourage some warmth into them.

Worry nagged at the back of his brain again, an unfamiliar emotion. He couldn’t remember the last time the cold had affected him.

He tried to rub his eyes but found he could hardly lift his hands. He looked down.

The stiff, black cuffs were gone. In their place were a pair of thick, brass rings that covered his own inhibitors. Heavy and clumsy, they seemed to have some kind of mechanism hidden within. He could feel a hum of static reverberating off of them, tapping into his bones and sending a faint current throughout his body.

Shadow frowned. Where had they come from? Had they put them on while he slept? Surely not. On the rare occasion he did rest, he was a light sleeper. He would have felt it. Why couldn’t he remember?

He turned his wrists fractionally, examining the rings and testing their strength. They were broad and heavy, and felt cold against his skin, even through his fur. With a sinking feeling, Shadow wondered if they might be the reason he felt so weak.

As he studied the rings with sharp eyes, he wracked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever seen anything like them before.

Shadow lifted his right index finger and gingerly hooked it under one of the rings.

Before he could make another move, a voice snarled at him from the corner,

“Keep still.”

A soldier was sat propped up in the very corner of the transport van. Half shrouded in darkness, Shadow couldn’t get a good look at his face, but he could tell that the soldier was tall and broad, and so relaxed that he must think he had nothing to fear.

Had he been there this whole time? Shadow couldn’t remember. He was having a hard time summoning back his short-term memories. His thoughts were in complete disarray, his nightmare still clouding his mind.

The blue hedgehog, his friends, defeat, this van - but the details were fuzzy, and the more he tried to grasp for them, the further they slipped away.

That worry gnawed away at him again.

All of Shadow’s senses felt dull and distant, as if the sights, scents and sounds that often threatened to overwhelm him were now nearby, but just out of reach. He felt as if he was in one room and his soul was in another, disconnected from the world around him. He didn’t feel right, he couldn’t feel anything.

Shadow shifted in his seat, testing the waters. The guard sat in the corner didn’t move but he knew behind his dark sunglasses, a pair of keen eyes were trained on him.

Shadow disregarded him and turned his attention back to the window. More green blurs. They were still in the forest. Where could they possibly be taking him?

He twisted his wrists again and focused on moving his hands. Static coursed through his veins, making him flinch, but he kept going. Though his body still felt heavy and unresponsive, Shadow was able to raise his clenched fists from his lap.

“I said, keep still,” the soldier muttered, and this time, he lowered one hand to rest against an impression in his jacket.

He was armed and probably more than happy to shoot. But they couldn't kill him. If they wanted to, they would have done it already. They wouldn’t bother driving him out to the middle of nowhere just to do away with him. No, he was too useful for that.

And then, it stopped. Unlike in his dream, the van gently rolled to a standstill, then the driver switched off the engine.

Shadow looked back at the doors. The guard assigned to watch him was speaking again but he barely registered his presence.

Where was he? It had taken hours to arrive, but logic dictated he couldn’t be too far from civilisation if they were going to keep him contained.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He was pulled to his feet.

Shadow ignored the twist in his gut and just tried to focus on his next move. They needed him, but for what? It could be anything. They could use his blood for testing, extrapolate his DNA for an all manner of projects, send him out on missions, use him as an attack dog.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now, apart from getting out of here.

Another soldier dressed all in black opened the van from the outside and Shadow was led out into the night.

They’d stopped at the edge of a clearing. Just a few feet away, a huge hill rose up out of the ground, rolling backwards and backwards, growing and forming into a distant mountain. Beneath his bare feet, the earth was cold and damp and unpleasant.

It was so dark, Shadow could only see a few paces in front of him. Another of his usually sharp senses had been dulled.

He tried to remember everything he’d learnt, everything Gerald had taught him. Keep your eyes up and keep your head down. Run and run and run, and never ever look back.

The hand was heavy on his shoulder. The two guards that flanked him chatted amongst themselves, swapping stories about the long drive as they guided him towards a low, squat building that appeared to be dug into the side of the towering hill, which seemed almost as tall as the pines that surrounded it.

A door opened. Burning orange light spilled out, pushing through the black night and illuminating his path. Two figures stood in the doorway, just silhouettes, contrasting shapes that didn’t make sense to him.

The cold air awoke something in Shadow’s brain. A spark ignited, a glint of hope.

He wouldn’t let them take him. He wouldn’t just give in. He was the Ultimate Lifeform, he was the descendant of a great power, he could go wherever he wanted. And he didn’t want to be trapped, he didn’t want to be locked away under layers of earth and metal and rock for another fifty years while the humans decided what to do with him. He wanted to be free.

With a rough cry that began in his belly and tore from his throat, Shadow ducked under the hand that held him down and swung his leg round, knocking one of the guard’s feet out from under him.

The other made a grab for him but Shadow jumped and swung his arm around the man’s neck, knocking his sunglasses off as he dragged him to the ground. Shadow untangled himself from the soldier before he could even think to reach for his gun.

He stumbled to his feet, chest heaving, and sprinted towards the tree line. But he only made it a few steps.

He felt all the breath leave his body as some invisible force clapped down on his back and knocked him off-balance. Shadow grunted as he hit the leafy ground, hard, his heavy hands awkwardly jammed beneath his chest.

Whatever had pushed him down had enough force behind it to knock the wind out of him. One of the guards? Surely not. The blow had felt all-encompassing and formless, as if the sky had fallen down on his head. Shadow groaned as his ribs smarted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt real pain.

He tried to get up but something weighed on his back, pressing him down into the earth, though he couldn’t actually feel anything, as if he were just an ant under the heel of an enormous boot. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Then he felt his body move without his say so, and he was turned over onto his back.

Shadow lay there, staring up at the black sky. There were thousands of stars, almost as many as he’d been able to see on the ARK.

A memory, faint and ephemeral as breath on a cold day, floated through his mind. Maria had countless astronomy books. She would point out the constellations to him, one by one, until they had almost mapped out the whole cosmos. There were still countless systems they’d never got around to learning about.

Shadow closed his tired eyes.

If this was the end, if this was how his lonely, painful life was finally snuffed out, maybe it wasn’t so bad. The ground was hard and cold but he’d never known anything else. His chest ached, but again, that was nothing new. If the stars Maria had given him were the last thing he ever saw, he could make peace with that.

“The Ultimate Lifeform, huh?”

Footsteps crunched through the dry leaves that littered the ground all around him, growing steadily closer and closer, until they finally stopped by his head.

“Says who?”

Despite every instinct telling him not to, Shadow opened his eyes.

A Mobian stood over him. Dark, dark fur, a black jacket that was two sizes too big, and almost comically large ears were all Shadow could make out against the sparkling night sky.

”Hey. I’m Kit.”

Even though she was shrouded in twilight, Shadow could still pick out a self-satisfied smile.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The Mobian flicked her fingers and Shadow felt his body rise off the ground as if he weighed nothing at all.

Once his feet were safely back on terra firma, the Mobian sighed and shook her head.

“Please don’t try to run again. It’s pointless and honestly, I can’t manage more than a fast walk, and even then I’m out of breath. I’d much rather we got to know each other over dinner.”

She nodded towards the rectangle of orange light in the distance, still smiling.

“Shall we go inside?”

//

Next Chapter

Master List

[scotianostra]

On February 24th 1303 the Scots, under Simon Fraser and John Comyn beat an English force at The Battle of Roslin.

Now most of my history is self taught that I have picked up over the years, I was brought up near Roslin and my mum did take us there as bairns and told us all about the Chapel, the Apprentice Pillar and The Holy Grail, this was 30 years before Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code novel, so with all that you would think that I will have been told all about The Battle of Roslin?

Nope not a thing, I knew about Stirling Bridge, Bannockburn and Culloden, as well as other battles but I can't recall my mum ever telling me about Roslin, so what I know is all learned over the past 20 years or so.

Fought between the Scots and English during the Wars of Scottish Independence and was a Scottish victory, but it does not figure in many history books and few people up until lately have even heard of it, yet the figures involved, especially on the English side, make it one of the biggest battles ever on Scots soil.

This was during the Wars of Scottish Independence, according to the stories I have read it was more of a fight over the love of a woman rather than a pure Scotland v England "match".

Lady Margaret Ramsay of Dalhousie, who had become betrothed to the handsome Sir Henry St Clair, they of the Knights Templar folk. Enter your typical English arrogant guy in Sir John de Segrave, a seasoned campaigner in many a Scottish battle. Sir John is said to have fallen in love with oor Lady Margaret on may visits to Dalhousie Castle, on hearing of the impending marriage in a fit of jealousy decided he wanted the Lady for himself so sought out to sweep her off her feet and defeat the Scottish army all in one fell swoop.

It's a great tale and sounds like a Hollywood film, but there never was any Lady Margaret Ramsay and we know that Sinclair married one Alicia de Fenton. So that's the romance bit debunked.

What I have also read out about the battle is that Segrove split his army, of 30,000 troops, into three groups, to me this is more believable, well splitting the army, the numbers in my mind will have been a lot less. Anyone who knows the landscape of Roslin Glen will know that it lends itself to the theory that in battle on big force would find it difficult to gather there. The English army in three divisions was also common in armies at the time. The terrain in Roslin in the middle of winter would have made it very difficult for a large army to manouevre, so with that I am pretty sure the numbers have been exaggerated, put it this way, if 30,000 English were defeated at Roslin it would be bigger than Bannockburn.

This brings me to my third point about the battle, why are no accounts of it from people present at it? Well that is easily explained in the fact that one of the commanders of the Scots was John "The Red" Comyn. It's a well know fact that history favours the winners, and we all know that The Bruce and Comyn were bitter rivals so it would be natural for any records of the battle to have been erased by Bruce. Well that's my take on it.

A couple of other details often written about the battle is that William Wallace was present, Wallace by this time had given up the Guardianship and at some point was said to have been in France, when captured he was in possession of a "safe passage" letter from The King of France, so was he there? Again I refer to my local knowledge in that along the River Esk that runs through Roslin Glen, towards Hawthornden Castle is a cave we know as Wallace's Cave, so there is a connection somewhere down the ages with our favourite Scottish patriot.

One as wee story regarding The Battle of Roslin is about the Cistercian Prior Abernethy of Mount Lothian to the west of Balantradoch, the Templar headquarters in Scotland, it was about 5 miles from Roslin, Abernethy, the monk, had been a Templar, a warrior, who had off his armour and lay down his sword to spend the remainder of his life praising God. Now the warrior priest's blood rose again. The life of prayer, compilation of Gregorian chants was abandoned. God had called the Prior to the defence of Scotland. As men prepare for battle each pray to whatever God he knows "let us be victorious."

Monks on horseback were sent to raise the alarm and warn the Scots of the danger facing them, they would have said a prayer for the Scots troops before the battle, as was normal, but another legend is that as the Scottish Army grew tired during the third stage of the battle. Abernethy is said to have been crucial with his local knowledge of the Glen, he also directed the Monks to erect a huge St Andrews Cross on the Pentland Hills, as the Scots tired the Cross was set alight and the Abernethy pointed towards it, saying it was a sign from God, it rallied the troops and the Battle was won.

You will have maybe heard other versions of The Battle of Roslin, a lot of this is my own take and by no means historical.

[lucrezianoin]

All Bellara and Davrin Dalish banter transcribed

I wrote a summary of all of Davrin's Dalish info from banter that is hard to get in game, hopefully I did not miss any. The video of Bellara and Davrin banters is here.

This is the transcription:

Bellara: Do you ever go back and see your clan, Davrin? Davrin: Not since I left the forest. Bellara: So you don't see family or friends? Davrin: No. Been a long time. Bellara: Does that bother you? Davrin: I'm the one who left. That's on me. Bellara: You must miss them. Davrin: It comes and goes. Different part of my life.

Bellara: So you're a Warden now. But you're also Dalish, right? Or at least, you were? Davrin: I'll always be Dalish. That'll never change. The sight of an aravel still brings back memories. Bellara: Good ones? Davrin: Some. Racing them through the forest as fast as the wind would take us. Bellara: I loved doing that. Davrin: And breaking my arm when our aravel sailed off a ridge. Bellara: I loved that too. Good times.

Bellara: Do you ever regret leaving your clan, Davrin? Davrin: I don't regret the life I've lived, joining the Wardens. The things I've seen and done. Bellara: There's a "but" in there. Davrin: But… sometimes I wish I could've done both. Bellara: Not much room for that. Davrin: No, you're part of the clan, giving yourself over to it, or you're not. I made my choice.

Davrin: The thing about being Dalish - I needed to see the rest of the world to understand why the Dalish part of it was special. Bellara: In what way? Davrin: I didn't appreciate my life at the time. How could I? A clan sticks to itself and you stick to the clan. Davrin: Not much room for seeing what's outside it. Bellara: Right. I get that.

Bellara: When I was little. Very little, I mean. We'd pass through towns and villages. I always wondered: What's that like? To settle down. To stop moving all the time. Davrin: Right? Have a house to call your own. Shop at the market instead of foraging for food. Davrin: Make friends with outsiders. Bellara: But you got that chance. You did it. How was it? Davrin: It was… different.

Bellara: So how different was life outside your clan? Davrin: I started to see what I took for granted. I missed the food. Bellara: They didn't have any where you went? Davrin: Dalish food. You don't appreciate halla milk 'til you don't have any. Butter too. Nothing like it in Thedas. Bellara: What about the people? Davrin: I missed the sense of a common purpose. A clan acting as one. Everywhere else, people were in it for themselves. Davrin: It's a reason I joined the Grey Wardens. Guess I needed that purpose again. The shared fight.

Bellara: I can't even read some of these books. I wonder what they say? Davrin: Do we really want to know? Bellara: Sure, the world can always use more knowledge about - Davrin: No, I mean you and I. Do the Dalish need any more rocks in our history being turned over? Bellara: Feels like we're a little late on that one.

[blazingstar400]

Incorrect Scarlet and Violet Quotes Part 6

Just everybody’s typical school lives.

[Clavell after catching Juliana, Nemona, and Arven riding Koraidon in the school halls]

Clavell: All of you are in big trouble for not only riding Koraidon in the school’s halls, but for also having three people, a very unsafe number, for riding just one Pokémon!

Nemona: Shoot!

Arven: Wait, three?

Clavell: Yes?

Juliana: OH MY GOSH FLORIAN FELL OFF!!!!

[Florian finally shows up to class after missing a few days]

Jacq: Where have you been?

Florian: Asleep.

Jacq: For four days?

Florian: Yeah.

Clavell: Good job, Arven.

Arven: Thanks, dad.

[Everyone freezes]

Arven: Why is everyone staring at me?

Penny: You just called Director Clavell ‘Dad’. You said ‘Thanks, dad’.

Arven: What? No I didn’t!

Clavell: Do you see me as a father figure, Arven?

Arven: No! If anything I see you more as a bother figure because you’re always bothering me!

Saguaro: Hey! Show your father some respect!

Arven: He’s not my dad!

Juliana: I just find it surprising you attached on to Clavell of all people.

Arven: I didn’t! But even if I did, who else would I attach to?!? Raifort?!

Raifort, who is on the far side of the room reading a book: I really don’t appreciate being brought into this discussion.

Arven: You see?!

Juliana: Hmm.

Clavell: Alright, I believe you.

Arven: Thank you!

Clavell: …Son.

Arven:

Clavell: Do you want to talk about this… over a game of catch?

Arven:

Arven: ……I’d like that…

Juliana: Do you ever just see something that changes your life and you’re just like ‘huh’.

Kieran: I saw you.

Juliana: That’s so nice and sweet and it makes this really awkward because I was just gonna show you this drawing Drayton made of Carmine as a monkey.

[The gang about to head out on a field trip]

Cyrano: Now before we take off make sure that all small things are secure.

Drayton: *leaning over to Kieran*

Kieran: What?

Drayton, smirking: Do you feel safe?

Kieran, through gritted teeth: Stop—!

Kieran: Despite what everyone thinks, I don’t actually hate everyone in this class.

Carmine: Are you sure about that…?

Kieran: Well actually Drayton is completely terrible.

Drayton: Ouch.

Kieran: I dislike Crispin because he’s Crispin.

Crispin: Really bro…

Kieran: Juliana was clearly cheating in the training session yesterday.

Juliana: Wha—

Lacey: Juliana winning isn’t called cheating…!

Kieran: Amarys was being particularly annoying this morning.

Amarys: I just said ‘excuse me’ because you were blocking my way…

Kieran: And Florian said ‘It’s not appropriate to yell at other students.’

Carmine: Soo you hate everyone then?

Kieran: Well maybe if all of you stopped being so irritating I might like you better.

[Geeta and Rika being called into Clavell’s office]

Clavell: Juliana got into a fight today.

Geeta: Is she okay?!

Rika: Did she win?!

Juliana: Just forget about it, no one got hurt.

Miriam: You had a concussion!

Juliana: No one got seriously hurt.

Miriam: You were in the ER for six hours!!

[Dendra when she just became a teacher at Uva/Naranja Academy]

Dendra, waking up in a panic: Shoot, I’m late to class!!!

Dendra, lying back down: Eh, but I already gratulated…

Dendra:

Dendra:

Dendra, sitting back up: Shoot, I’m the teacher!!!

Clavell: Florian, did you happen to hear my announcement?

Florian: I hanged onto every word.

Clavell: I’m going to assume that’s sarcasm.

Florian: Correct.

Clavell: So you didn’t hear my announcement?

Florian: I’m barely listening now.

[Juliana after helping Arven and Kieran study for a upcoming test]

Juliana, beaming: Alright guys, I think you’re both ready for that test!

Arven: Great, I just want to test my knowledge real quick. Give me a word.

Juliana: Oh, okay!

Juliana: Um… what’s a synonym for ‘abandonment’?

Arven: Oh, I know this one!

Arven: My childhood!

Juliana: What—?

Kieran:

Kieran: I was going to say something different but actually I second that.

Juliana:

Juliana, tearing up: Aw, you guys—

Nemona: *actually studies, gets good grades*

Juliana: *doesn’t study, still passes*

Arven: *gets Bs*

Florian: *low Cs, doesn’t care*

Penny: *cheats and gets away with it*

Drayton: *cheats, and gets caught*

Crispin: *gets a B-, and is happy*

[At lunch hour]

Juliana: Arven, we’re hungry!

Nemona: Yeah, Arven, we’re hungry!

Carmine: Hurry up, Arven!

Penny: What’s taking so long, Arven?

Florian: Arven, what’s for lunch?

Arven: *screams*

Kieran: Look, I don’t want to talk about it.

Juliana, pulling out a guitar: Would you rather sing about it?

Kieran:

Kieran: You make it so hard for me not to murder you sometimes—

Juliana: Trust fall!

Clavell, from the other side of the room: I’m not going to catch you.

Juliana: Trust. Fall.

Clavell: No.

Juliana: I’m falling!

Clavell, launching himself over the table to catch her: WAIT—!!

Drayton: What are you doing?

Crispin: Homework.

Drayton: There was school today?

Crispin: *nods*

Drayton: I thought it was a long weekend.

Crispin: It’s Thursday.

Drayton: Oh, it’s almost the weekend. No point in going now.

Jacq: Florian is late again.

Penny: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11.

Nemona: I wrote a fake schedule saying we started at 9 instead of 12.

Juliana: I set his clock to PM instead of AM.

Jacq:

Jacq: You all may have overdone it.

Florian, bursting through the door panicked: WHAT YEAR IS IT?!?!

Tyme, walking into the classroom: Alright, so today— *sees ‘Turn down for —’ written on the board*

Tyme, confused: Turn down for what?

[Suddenly ‘Turn Down for What’ blasts through the speakers as the whole class gets up and begins partying]

The sv gang: TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!

Yes both Geeta and Rika grew so attached that they are practically Juliana’s adopted moms lol.

[merp-blerp]

Gaylor/Kaylor and Oz: Parallels and Theories Vol. 2 🌼🌈❇️

CW: Spoilers for L. Frank Baum's Oz book series (books 1-15). And this post is very late-stage-Kaylor-specific, so if that's not up your alley, that's chill.

Vol. 1 Here (I recommend reading Vol. 1 before this one)

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

AH! I'm so ecstatic that I get to make another one of these so quickly! I was so proud of Vol. 1 and I'm so happy there's new material to explore! Thank you very much for the reception to Vol. 1, I'm so glad people liked it. It's cool to see other people who probably didn't even see my post seemingly make the Return To Oz connections as well. It makes me feel "smart". 😅

Part 1: The Tin Woodman ❤️🌈

Let's start out with something small and old news. A theory that's new to me is the Tin Woodman's role in gaylor theories (He's very specifically called "Tin Woodman" in the books, not Tinman, so I'll call him by his book name so as to not blur the line of exactly which version of the character I'm talking about). This collage by iateallthecat2 on Twitter (from this post) brought it to my attention:

I'm not sure if there's already some in-depth theory that goes beyond this collage out there, so I'm gonna wing it from here based on my own Oz knowledge.

In the "ME!" MV, Brendon Urie's character is a suitor that Taylor rejects. They fight when inside a house and she rejects his proposal, but when he gifts her something with no general romantic meaning, a cat, they spend the rest of the MV having a good, platonically-coded time. Brendon plays someone who wants to play the role of Taylor's partner, but they seemingly work better as buds in their rainbow haven.

I have wondered if Brendon is supposed to be playing a beard who Taylor tries to take to freedom with her in this MV, but I'm admittedly slightly apprehensive about the idea. It would be kinda cool if one or more of Tay's beards also came out with her whenever she does. This plotline seems very similar to the suspected "she ghosted but kept the castle" narrative. In both Taylor rejects a proposal, except here Taylor and her beard seem more connected. It makes me wonder, if everything had gone to plan, would the narrative in 2019 have been that presumably Joe would've proposed and Taylor would have rejected it but they would've been on friendly terms. Or maybe all of that would've happened to Karlie and Josh in a way since they were married in 2018. Or maybe it would've happened to both of them. Then they would've been able to build a narrative for Kaylor as a couple that didn't involve saying "We hid this from you for this long". But that's spitballing.

Either way, Brendon is definitely someone who helps Taylor along her "story" as he infamously put himself:

Everyone knows that the Tin Woodman helps Dorothy on her journey, but he also helps out Ozma/Tip on hers in the second book and so on.

In the first book, the Tin Woodman's backstory is that he was once a human named Nick Chopper, who was engaged to a Munchkin girl named Nimmie Amee. While Nick seems to respect and love her, he also seems to only be engaged to her because he doesn't want to be lonely after the death of his parents, at least to me. But the Wicked Witch of the East curses Nick to chop off his limbs whenever he tries to chop wood. He gets these limbs replaced with tin parts until he is fully tin. But his body no longer needed a heart and therefore he felt no romantic love for Nimmie Amee, so their relationship fizzled out.

Whether he ever romanticly loved her in the first place is debatable in my opinion. I personally don't think he did, especially since long after he's gotten the realization that he had a heart, Nick never really tries to romanticly pursue Nimmie Amee again, but he does tie loose ends with her in The Tin Woodman of Oz. However, my point is that Nick seems to only want Nimmie when he thinks she can fill a void. Once he thought he was too broken for her to fix he subconsciously realized he didn't actually love her, but interpreted it as though he just "stopped" loving her.

To put it simply, I see Nick as practically going through comphet before finding true fulfillment in the things that come after he's un-rusted. My personal interpretation of Nick is that he is a gay man, unbeknownst to him, who tries to find love in a woman, but it inevitably doesn't work. He loved Nimmie because he hoped she could fix his pain. There's no way to prove Baum meant Nick to be seen this way, but queer interpretations of Nick are common in modern Oz fan circles. Somewhat like Taylor and Brendon in "ME!", Nick and Nimmie try to play the roles of a couple, but being a couple just isn't in the cards for them, so they keep things platonic.

In comparison, Nick loves the Scarecrow for the actual companionship he gives. The Tin Woodman states that he no longer needs Nimmie's love, as he has the Scarecrow's. The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow are pretty similar to Dorothy and Ozma in terms of being queer-coded in their relationship. They live close to one another because they're sadder apart, cordially debate philosophy, rule Winkie Country together, and are often depicted comfortably in each other's physical space, among other wholesome details.

The physical representation of the Tin Woodman's heart is made of a velvet pouch and sawdust in the books, but in the '39 film Tinman's heart is a ticking clock with daisies stringed to it. Of course, daisies have a great significance to Kaylor because of the Big Sur trip. And clocks have been having a significance in Taylor's art since "The Man" and the Karma wall.

I don't necessarily think Karlie, Taylor, or Brendon are represented through the Tin Woodman, Nimmie, and the Scarecrow in Taylor's art in a literal sense. I see it as just another queer piece of the puzzle. Brendon might not literally be the Tin Woodman in Taylor's art the same way Karlie is Dorothy, but I think he at least played him during the Lover era. Brendon/Tin Woodsman helps Taylor/Ozma through her journey to where she belongs like a queer friend helping another queer friend.

Also, I'll leave this section off on this reach cutesy note:

Part 2: Ozma and the Wizard 🌺🪄

Back in Vol. 1, I suggested a theory that if Karlie Kloss was represented as Dorothy Gale in Taylor's music, then Taylor was more subtly represented as Queen/Princess Ozma. I've been seeing another theory around about Taylor being the Wizard, aka Oscar Diggs. I also really like this theory and I think it can make sense for both theories to exist simultaneously.

The Wizard is an illusionist. In the first novel, when appearing to each of Dorothy's friends individually he appears as something different to all of them. To Dorothy, he is a giant floating head, to the scarecrow he is a fairy, to the tinwoodsman he is a beast, and to the cowardly lion he is a ball of fire. He is able to change himself into anything he pleases, but he has no real magic. In order to rule over Oz unrightfully, Oscar Diggs stole Ozma away as a baby and gave her to a witch named Mombi, who transformed Ozma into a boy named Tip, disguising Ozma from everyone and herself; in the second book, Ozma is transformed back to her true form and takes her place as ruler of Oz, eventually ruling with Dorothy by her side. To make a long story short, Ozma and Dorothy eventually forgive Oscar for his crimes.

I see Oscar/the Wizard as representing Performance Taylor, while the real Taylor is Ozma. The Wizard is from Kansas in the '39 film and performance Taylor is currently associated with the Kansas City Chiefs. Performance Taylor, just like Oscar, is able to change himself when needed and isn't the unstoppable being his citizens once believed in despite never meeting him. Just like Oscar, Performance Taylor is an illusionist who appeases the citizens with theatrics to hide the truth for the time being. Performance Taylor/Oscar hides the real Taylor/Ozma away. Real Taylor/Ozma, when seen, is forced into the shape of a boy, Tip/James, Peter, the Man, etc. But soon Ozma reclaims her land and keeps the castle Oscar took, and so might the real Taylor.

If you believe Post Malone is playing a side of Taylor in the "Fortnight" MV, Taylor seems to be depicting herself as coming together with both the public and private parts of herself. Previously in MVs for songs like "...Ready For It", Taylor was always at odds with her clone, but in "Fortnight" they team up to get out of the asylum. Ozma and Dorothy make amends with Oscar and Taylor makes amends with herself.

Part 3: The Yellow Brick Road and The Emerald City 🟨❇️

I think a lot of us know about Taylor's Instagram grid currently aligning with yellow outfits from Eras at the moment:

Typically when Taylor's Instagram grid aligns like this it means something. The most common theory as to what this might mean is that Taylor is creating a yellow brick road. Yellow is often seen as the closeting color in gaylor circles for various reasons, such as the Evermore closet in The Lover House being filled with yellow clothes. Some fun estimates I've seen are that soon the alignment will be broken by some type of photo of Taylor in a green outfit post-Eras, like maybe a green outfit from tour in her Toronto thank you post or even her birthday post. The big hope right now is that this hypothetical post in a green outfit will signify Taylor's coming out being near, having reached her destination to the Emerald City, or that this green outfit post could even be a coming out post. My Oz-ian brain loves this idea! The yellow road to being free in the green, the color right after yellow in the rainbow.

In the first Oz book, the Emerald City is a huge hoax. It's not Emerald at all, but white. In order to trick the citizens of Oz into thinking that the city is emerald, the Wizard forces everyone to wear green-lensed spectacles that lock on; they are what make the city look green, the Wizard lying that they wear them because the brightness of the city would blind them if they didn't. Dorothy is given a "green" dress when she arrives in the Emerald City, but when she leaves it reveals itself as actually being white. After the first book, the Emerald City becomes truly emerald; from what I can remember there is no exact canonical reason as to why this is, so I theorize that the citizens just made it emerald after the wizard floats away in his balloon. The Emerald City truly being white represents the fakeness within the rule of the Wizard, but by the time Oz has its rightful ruler, Ozma, the city is truly Emerald. For TTPD and most if not all of Tay's discography, the colorless world represents the abusive music industry and closeting, but color represents Taylor's freedom, reclaiming the land. Also, the fictional Emerald City was inspired by the real-life White City Amusement Park that was once in Chicago, so there's that connection to white too. Green and White together remind me of Taylor's green band jacket in the "ME!" MV and her white band jacket in the "TSMWEL" performance from Eras. Symbolism-wise, Taylor thought she was close to reaching her destination when creating Lover, but the smallest man ruined it all and the emeralds were fake. Now she's about to go down the yellow road once more to get back to her emerald kingdom.

To expand on the colors of Oz a bit more, let's look at the house from "ME!"

Here's an official Oz map in case anyone finds it helpful:

This house in "ME!" is the starting point in the MV and the first room that we see is blue. Blue is the color of Munchkin Country in the Oz books, as every Oz region has a color. Munchkin Country is the first land of Oz we ever see and the starting point of "ME!" is blue just like it.

Then Taylor walks through a hall with blue walls and blue and yellow tiles on the floor. On her first trip to the Emerald City, Dorothy exclusively walks through Munchkin Country to the Emerald City, so the tile being blue and yellow signifies that this is only the first journey to the Emerald City.

The next room is a large green one. The Emerald City, right?

But when Taylor makes it out the front door, the house is white with some purple. Not the true Emerald City. Purple is for Gillikin Country. When Ozma is kidnapped by the Wizard of Oz and given to Mombi she lives in Gillikin Country as Tip. The Emerald City is (partly) white, Taylor's in her closet yellow, Ozma/true Taylor is dressed as a guy, and Ozma/true Taylor is yet to rule.

But finally, later in the video when Brendon and Taylor are on platonic terms, they run up to a massive green building with a rainbow beaming in front of it as they wear green clothes. I think this was intended to be the true Emerald City. The pink soldiers around it even look like the poppy field. I think it's notable that in the MV Brendon and Taylor run up to the Emerald City, but we never see them enter. I take that as acknowledging that Taylor wasn't there yet. "ME!" was not a coming-out video, it was a sprint toward that goal. So she wasn't inside the Emerald City quite yet, she was on the way, ever so close. However, as stated before, the smallest man ruined things, so this was retconned through Eras. However, if Taylor got to come out during Lover this would've been the final stop.

I was thinking that it would also be crazy if instead of a photo in a green outfit, we got one in red. In relation to Oz, red is Quadling Country. In the first book, it's the last place Dorothy journeys to before making it home. It's also where she meets Glinda for the first time (Glinda is the Witch of the South in the books and a different witch is the Witch of the North). Glinda is the only one who knows the real way to get Dorothy home, her silver shoes. So red would also be an interesting choice in this scenario, but green is definitely the more culturally recognizable choice.

I want to acknowledge the "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" connection I've seen around, even though I don't think I have much to add to it. The idea is that Elton John's song "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" has thematic parallels to gaylor. This idea that Taylor could leave behind a toxicly ritzy world for something better. Elton is an openly gay man in Hollywood who had to deal with a lot of silly Hollywood games regarding his sexuality. The way "GBYBR" is used in his film Rocketman definitely depicts Elton deciding to fix his issues brought on by the industry's abuse. Could this be what Taylor's about to do herself in her own way? Leave behind the yellow cedar closet for a life that's true to her? Taylor wore this outfit that already had plenty of Kaylor tie-ins like the twinning Carolina Herrera fit and the panther necklace, but her shoes match the ones Elton wears in the "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" album cover as he steps in or out of the Ozian picture.

As an extra fun tidbit, let's work some Oz history into this! It is a commonly told story that L. Frank Baum's inspiration for the yellow brick road comes from a real road in Peekskill, New York. The myth is that Baum asked for directions to the military academy and was told to "Follow the yellow brick road." Even though this exact story is likely just a myth, it's certainly not unlikely that Baum saw those yellow bricks. While Peekskill is not New York City, of course, New York City has a big significance in Taylor's music. In "WTNY" she views it as a place where anyone can be free. New York City could be its own character in her music. If New York City is freedom it could be seen as an equivalent to Ozma's Emerald City. Peekskill isn't where the city is, it holds the road to it and freedom.

Conclusion 🌼

Again, it's so cool to have more to add on to this Oz theory. I admit that it feels a bit vindicating that I made Vol. 1 and in due time we got more Oz crumbs. Wow, can't believe Taylor saw my post. In all seriousness, this has been so much fun. I know there's the possibility of yet another part to this. If you feel like I've forgotten anything, let me know! Can't wait to know what's on the horizon!

[doyou000me]

Love In The Big City series adaptation: Episodes 3 & 4

On Knowing The Story and Characters (and their trash) Beforehand

CW: homophobia and attempted suicide 

I am late in writing this (@lurkingshan I’m sorry if it’s any extra trouble) but… it took a while before I managed to get through episode 4. This week was heavy. I cried. Episode 3 and 4 hit hard, and deep, and I am so very grateful that I read the book beforehand. Even going in prepared, knowing more or less what’s to come, I wasn’t prepared enough. How do you watch this, you who have not read the book and cannot brace for impact? 

After watching episode 3, I thought I was going to write quite a light hearted reflection this week. I took notes on the characters, especially Hyeong/Young-Soo and Eomma/Go Young’s mom, and I thought I was going to write about how we who have read the book are able to see through these characters’ bullshit from the very beginning. I was going to ask how they come across to the viewers of the series who haven’t read the book, and wonder how different our understandings of events and characters turn out. 

Then I watched episode 4, and it derailed everything. 

As much as the prior knowledge of having read the book allowed me to brace for impact at times, I also believe it gave a deeper understanding of what’s going on below the surface - and that makes some scenes, some lines of dialogue, cut all the deeper. 

The focus of episodes 3 and 4 is, to a large extent, homophobia and the fear of how others will judge us. 

We have the mother, who is religious and makes her every move to look good in the eyes of her fellow church goers and God - but I get the impression that the judgement of those around her is what she fears the most. She fights against judgement when her husband, Go Young’s father, cheats on her. She works hard to become successful and prove herself. She sends her teenage son to conversion therapy. She doesn’t wish to meet the person that her son sees as most important in his life, because she doesn’t want to face the fact that, after everything, there is nothing she can do to change the fact that her son is gay. 

Then we have Young-soo, simply called Hyeong in the book. He is a deeply complex character with many layers, and we dug deeper into him after reading part 2 of the book. Long story short, due to his past, he has a very complicated relationship with western influences, religion—and his own sexuality. It all boils down to a deeply rooted homophobia that not only affects himself negatively, but seeps out of him in a toxic poison of mixed signals and harmful actions. 

Between them, we have Go Young. Go Young, who has graduated, has lost his deeper, more meaningful relationships where he was safe and accepted, is struggling to make a place for himself as an author, is forced into a role as carer for his ungrateful mother, and is trying to live his life true to himself as an out and proud gay man. 

Go Young is in a position in life where he needs someone by his side. He needs someone who can support him, help him, share his burden and shine some light in the darkness. He seeks purpose, meaning, understanding—and finds Young-soo Hyeong. 

In the beginning, in spite of all the bullshit he spouts, he gives off an aura of being someone who has a deeper understanding of life—or, perhaps more importantly, he’s handsome, fit, and (once they get to that point) good at sex. In spite of all the mixed signals, Go Young can’t stay away. 

But the more we as viewers learn about Young-soo along with Young, we understand that there is no deeper understanding of the universe and meaning of life. There is little difference between Young-soo and Young’s mother, in that they are both unable to see Young for who he really is. Instead, they see the version of him that they are willing to tolerate, while constantly (more or less actively) working to change him and put him on a course to an “acceptable” life. 

Throughout episode 3 and primarily episode 4, we see how this wears on Go Young and it finally becomes too much when Young-soo denies that there was ever any love between them. We see Go Young come home, and in the harsh light of the kitchen lamp, he makes himself an ice coffee. With efficient movements, he gets the ice from the fridge, then goes to find the pills. Swallowing them down with his coffee drink, he takes pill, after pill, after pill–

And black. 

This scene plays out similarly, if not exactly the same, in the book. His mother’s words, when he wakes up in the ICU, are the same: 

“Don’t try so hard. We all die someday, anyway.” 

These are the first words from a mother when her son wakes up after a suicide attempt. There is no happiness, no relief, no reassurance, in those words. There is no welcome back, no thank God you survived and there is no why would you do such a thing? And Go Young, strapped to the machine, just stares at her blankly, his eyes dry and expressionless, because he has given up and expects nothing else. 

The ones who do welcome him back, who are overjoyed at seeing him awake and remind him that he is loved and that there are reasons to live, are his gay friends. The T-aras are shut out of the room, on the other side of a glass. They’re not allowed to be there, and in the book, they aren’t there—but I am very grateful that the adaptation added them as a hint of light after such a heavy episode. 

It is thanks to them that Go Young finally cried and finally decided to move again. 

Similar to the book, we get a time skip. Young has moved on. He has aged. He still cares for his dying mother, but while the hurt isn’t gone, he knows now not to expect anything from her. And when his own manuscript gets sent to him, full with corrections that Young-soo has made in red pen in an attempt to correct the story of Go Young’s own life, Go Young throws it in the trash. 

“It is not my trash.” 

So move on. Get rid of the trash. Be weary of the trash that others carry with them, and do not make it your own. 

Even if that trash is homophobia, put it where it belongs. 

[alexanderlightweight]

I miss writing. I miss malec

I plot in my head every night but it’s not the same.

I miss writing about how Magnus and Alec tease and find and appreciate and murder for each other and how much they love each other.

I miss Team Immortal and how Magnus and Cat and Ragnor and magical rituals and the spiral labyrinth politics and the finer elements of magical and warlock culture and

I miss diving into world building with magical botony and zoology and thread magic to pocket dimensions. How magic isn’t equal and there’s different levels and wild nature magic. The way that while the spiral labyrinth has changed and evolved, that it still holds to the very oldest of rituals. Everything carefully and continually read by each new Elder and the acolytes of the library learn by trade. Because knowledge isn’t kept in books alone. There are singing histories and spells kept alive by enchanted pieces and the memories of those devoted to learning. Carving and thread work and rituals in tapestry or furniture.

(Because elder isn’t a title based on just age but also elder knowledge. Warlocks who especially dedicate themselves to either singular or a plethora of fields and excel at creation and learning become elders. The very best researchers and scholars of the wealth of knowledge and magical prowess. Being an elder isn’t just a perk it’s a dedication and an oath to the protection and betterment of their people. Active oaths to keep them from stagnating in the decades of immortality and aging.

If you truly start slacking or losing your way, the magic prods you. Eventually you are forced to make a choice, forsake your roll as an Elder and retract and be released from your vows. Or uphold them. )

Metalworking and leather working and the labyrinth contains it all.

I love expanding on the shadowworld and the different ways magic is used by each race and how they all separately interact with the outskirts of the mundane world.

Of figuring out how a warrior society would work and the different styles of life that could have evolved.

And how much sheer adoration and platonic love is between the three of them. And the trust.

Because even when Ragnor is ignoring Magnus (a petty fight that turned into a research binge that turned into a few more years of silence than intended while Ragnor experimented in a pocket library) Magnus is still going to show up and make sure he’s fed and hydrated because the pettiness never outweighs the care.

(Cat has spells on all their vitals and vise versa. But she sent Magnus over with an excuse around year theee when she figured Ragnor had just lost track of time. Magnus doesn’t even remember that Ragnor was being petty and Ragnor doesn’t remember the argument at all).

I miss Alec figuring out what he enjoys and that he’s allowed to enjoy.

Honestly I got a little off track but I’ve been wanting to write malec and post for so long.

I miss the interactions and comments and looking forward to new Wednesday prompts. I miss writing Wednesdays so much and I’m looking forward to starting them up again when I’m healed :/

This took about an hour to write the first time but half got deleted and had to be rewritten when Nightshade started barking outside (it’s past the neighborhood noise curfew and I had to run to grab him so we stayed polite).

Nightshade likes to go outside and ‘guard’ the house for a bit every night before his door gets locked shut for bed, but since bed is subjective to my insomnia and not his sleep schedule he sometimes goes to ‘guard’ rather late. He huffily settled in his crate, perturbed I wouldn’t let him ‘protect’ the House.

Honestly I’m just happy I can write on my phone without a ton of pain anymore.

💜 lumine

The House made a rule (without me lol I was outvoted) that every time anyone buys anything they have to consider if it’s for public House use and if it is, how likely I am to injure myself with it. Or how likely is it to randomly break and hurt me.

It’s very sweet but I hate that it says something that they all agreed. It’s also hilarious because I’m the one who does all the yard work (I’ve had to delay fertilizing for a month and had to stop PT for 3.5 weeks while it healed enough for me to go) so I have axes, clippers, trimmers I use frequently.

[trolllsss]

So @deliciousdefendorinternet asked a great question and made me so so happy cause it's the first question I've ever gotten. The response ended up being pretty long so I thought I'd share it here too.

The question was what I wanted to see from a Brozone reconciliation.

To start with, they need to give a proper apology. Not a "hey I'm sorry, I was a stupid kid. I didn't mean to." It sounds too much like an excuse and it puts the responsibility on Branch to be understanding.

Then I want to see effort from them to spend time with him. They come to him. They do things he likes. They realize that they're practically strangers and take the time to get to know him.

I think John Dory will have the hardest time with this. He's stuck in this mind frame of wanting to pick up where they left off and wanting to minimize anything bad that happened.

On the fluffy side of things, I want Branch to get to really meet Bruce's kids. He was so happy when he learned about them. I also want Bruce to accidentally slip into Dad mode with him too. Stuff like, "okay, it's getting late. Time for bed." Or "hey, it's okay to feel angry and to need space. I just need you to tell me. Help me help you." At first Branch thinks it's insulting because he feels like he's being treated like a kid, but then Bruce treats him like an adult in other situations and he realizes that thirteen kids build some hard habits to break. That Bruce loves his kids, and he's treating Branch a lot like them.

I'd love for Clay to give Branch a copy of the first sad book he ever read. He's kind of hesitant, because even though Viva appreciates sad books, she doesn't always ENJOY them. And his brothers never liked them at all.

But Branch loves them the way he loved sad country songs. He's the newest member of Clay's book club, trolltopia division.

They also go over Branch's safety measures for the village, most of which were implemented without the village's knowledge, and swap notes.

Floyd. Oof. People go really easy on Floyd. I think it's because he was so hurt after the movie and acknowledged that Branch had grown up. But Floyd had the benefit of not being there to fight. I could see him being so desperate to avoid conflict that he'd brush over problems or Branch's feelings to try to keep the peace.

Anyway, for him I want Branch to be helping with his recovery, along with JD, and they catch him on a Grey Day. His fur is grey again and so is his attitude. Usually he locks himself in his bunker on days like that, then Poppy will inevitably come find him and stay next to him still he's feeling a bit better.

I'm a firm believer that being grey for twenty years has consequences and I want Floyd and JD both to see some of them.

JD and Branch go camping! JD will go to do something to show off for his baby brother only to turn around and see that Branch had already done it. He's forced to acknowledge that Branch has grown up. Without him. And that that was his own fault. They end the trip with a healthy amount of mutual respect and plans to go camping together once every other month.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

My knowledge of the books isn't as great, so I hope you don't mind this question. Where was Eomer during the First Battle at the Fords? Did he arrive in time to find Theodred's dead body? Was he there at all? Thank you so much!

I absolutely don’t mind, and I understand why this is something that’s not clear! The full timeline isn’t obvious even from the LOTR books — you have to supplement what we know about Éomer from Two Towers with info from Unfinished Tales, which has the only account of the battle where Théodred was killed. But the short answer is that Éomer was dealing with business elsewhere so he wasn’t part of the fighting at the Isen, and he never saw Théodred’s body — only his grave after the fact. Here’s the long answer:

In late February, Théodred was in the Westfold, which was his territory as 2nd Marshal. Scouts alerted him to troops from Isengard preparing to invade from the west. Acting on his own authority — because his dad was Not Well — he went to meet the challenge with Grimbold and their men and also sent a summons to Elfhelm in Edoras asking that he come with relief troops of his own. We don’t know *exactly* what Éomer was doing right then, but he was 3rd Marshal and his jurisdiction was the East-mark. So he had his own stuff going on, and the bulk of his men would be further away from the Isen than Elfhelm and his men were, so Elfhelm was a more natural relief choice.

The First Battle of the Fords of Isen happened on Feb. 25th, and Théodred was killed that night.   We’re not told what day he was buried, but we do know that his grave was there, with his banner flying above it, when the Second Battle of the Fords began on March 2nd. So somewhere in between, Elfhelm and Grimbold buried Théodred at the Fords, right where he died. That means this image from the movies, while lovely and moving, is non-canonical — Théodred never got back to Edoras and wasn’t buried there:

News of Théodred’s death came first to Erkenbrand at Helm’s Deep on Feb. 26th, and Erkenbrand sent word on to Edoras. That messenger didn’t make it to Edoras until midday on the 27th, which is the same day Éomer set out to track down the band of orcs (those carrying Merry and Pip, it turns out) that had just been reported in the east. There is some ambiguity as to whether Éomer heard the news of Théodred’s death before he left or not, but he indisputably spent the next few days engrossed in other urgent stuff that would have kept him from grieving or visiting the grave — he had to go track down and slay those orcs; he ran into Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in the plains and had to decide whether to let them go; and then, when he got back to Edoras, he got thrown in jail for having acted without orders and for letting those foreigners run free in Rohan. He didn’t get out of jail until March 2nd, when Gandalf healed Théoden, and then they were off straight away to Helm’s Deep.

It’s not until after victory has been achieved at Helm’s Deep and all our heroes are on the road to confront Saruman that they pass by the Isen and take notice of the graves that are there. It’s a bit of a sore point for me that NO ONE mentions that Théodred is among the dead (😵😖🤯), but at least Éomer is thinking of him because he is the one to mention the murder of Théodred among Saruman’s biggest crimes when Saruman is trying to sweet talk his way back into Théoden’s good graces once they get to Isengard (“Remember Théodred at the Fords and the grave of Háma in Helm’s Deep!”).

Anywho, obviously the movies chose to mix up the timelines and events a bit for their own dramatic purposes, since they have Éomer arriving at the tail end of the fighting at the Fords, finding Théodred still alive, and bringing him back to Edoras before his death and funeral. It’s a substantial change from the books, but I do really like that they found a way to put Théodred in the movies and to give proper weight and notice to his death! And thanks for the question, I hope the answer was helpful!

[grumfield]

Hey, I hope this isn’t too weird of a question but feel free to ignore. I noticed on your Star Wars ship chart you have obikin as your OTP but vaderwan only as “like”. Aren’t they the same characters? Why do you like one more than the other

Okay SO sorry for the late response to this I was mulling over how to articulate it.

Vaderwan as a sex/relationship dynamic is fun. For me it’s fun in the way like “grrr you’re mine slams you against the wall” dubcon is fun, but that’s really as compelling as it gets for me because I really don’t see a place in their relationship at that point where they could go beyond that until they’re force ghosts. Vaderwan dynamic to me kind of exists in a PWP-shaped vacuum. What if Tom & Jerry was about freaky sex instead. One-off erotic torture episodes.

This is because like, to kind of paraphrase an earlier response I gave, by the time Vaderwan is a thing they’ve both taken on the mantle of different identities (Ben and Vader respectively) and subsequently are no longer the people they were before. Their *past* selves that existed before the destruction of the Jedi have a very fraught history, but their current selves don’t look at each other with the same level of interpersonal history because Anakin is dead to Obi-Wan and vice versa (obviously this is just my interpretation) (I do actually view them as the same people but they don’t view themselves as the same people so they functionally aren’t)

Vaderwan as a non-actual ship or sex/romance concept is more compelling to me tbh.

The Deborah chow obi wan show does something interesting with this because it starts from a place of emotional inequality where obi-wan hasn’t gone full Ben yet and thinks he killed Anakin (thus Anakin like “still exists” even though he’s dead if that makes sense), so there’s this stilted quality where like, he’s still trying to interact with Anakin when he deals with Vader but doesn’t realize yet that he’s trying to interact with a ghost. Their fights are kind of reflective of this and then at the end after their final fight they both respectively embrace who they are. Sort of reflected in how obi wan just tells him bye and immediately leaves with no emotional reaction at all, then after that speaks about Anakin in the past tense for the first time before returning to the desert and being Ben, because Vader has just admitted to him that he needs to get with the program because Anakin is long gone and he’s chasing a memory. Vader’s thing with him has this Tom and Jerry feel to it while also this need less to capture him but more to try and make Obi-Wan see that Anakin isn’t there anymore/Anakin and Obi-Wan are not a thing anymore, they’re both dead.

Obi-Wan show is very gothic in that respect lol…vaderwan is very gothic and compelling to me as the tragic end rather than the place where they start their relationship or work it out

Truly the kings of compartmentalization! Easier to deal with all of this shit if you don’t view yourself as yourself.

Anyways favorite part obikin is the weird complicated ways that they fuck each other up and the knowledge of where it leads, and where it leads is like the catharsis for me + vaderwan is fairly straightforward and post-catharsis so it’s fun but not as insanity inducing for me! But I still enjoy it.

But this why my preferred post every event in ROTS Obikin fic is like “obi-wan is hallucinating anakin in the desert and going crazy” or other associated metaphysical stuff

ALSO to paraphrase what my friend said: Obi-Wan is very passive (in the books especially!) and doesn’t ever choose, he needs to be pursued. Anakin as Vader ultimately needs to be chosen, Obi-Wan will never be the one to chase so will never be the one to choose. And this is also very much an essence of it etc. adds to the tragedy but I wouldn’t have it any other way hehe

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 22: Earendil (and very vague Elwing)

Earendil rules the people in the area. Elwing, despite being the heiress of the crown of one of the two groups who joined in there, is simply his wife. Huh.

Also, he's got sea-longing and wants fo find his parents (not a good reason to leave your wife and kids) and find Valinor and ask the Valar for mercy (ok, this is a better reason). So, Círdan makes Vingilot (from birch tree) and Earendil sails off. Elwing is sad.

But… his sailing is still a good thing, because he wants to ask the Valar for help? I guess? I have a hard time with Earendil, I'm not a fan of absent husbands. But I guess his mission is important.

And also, maybe they did discuss it with Elwing before they got married ("I dream of sailing far and for long periods of time." "ok, I may be sad with it but I still want this marriage.")…. You know what? I am going to HC that they did have this talk. It makes him 20x more sympathetic to me.

Meanwhile, among the Feanorians… Maedhros is restraining himself (again!) because he is remorseful for Doriath. But. the oath tornments them all (ok, so it is a compel, but not absolute. Not "dominate person", but it does give them mental damage for not following it. Unless it is just honor and stuff, but it doesn't sound like it.)

The Feanorians gather. (Which is a bad sign). They send messangers to Elwing, demanding "politely but clearly", the Silmaril. Well, you should have tried "politely" with Thingol, now, after Doriath, your politeness feels a bit empty.

[Also, Maedhoros' life would be much, much easier if he had the ability to just throw C&C under the bus and blame everything on them. It was even mostly true! And might have worked. But he is loyal to his brothers. And this is a good thing. This is tragic: he has one good trait, but can't manage another (not murdering people), and so he fails both morally, and fails at his chosen goal.]

Elwing, and the people of Sirion didn't want to give him the Silmaril. Because:

people have died and suffered for it (the usual argument, which I feel is increased by the nature of the Silmaril)

their ruler was not home, and they didn't want to make the decision without him (this is stupid, on a very mundane level. Earendil should have chosen someone to make important decisions when he's away. Also, Elwing seems either very indecisive / shy, or not respected by the people. My bet would be on "shy", or eldritch/shy, somewhat Varda-style)

it seemed to them that the Silmaril was the reason of their health and prosperity (this is a new idea)

So: it is not Elwing's decision. And it is not based mostly on "we hate them, they killed our people", but on survival needs (and a misconception). And again, there is no textual evidence that the people of Sirion know about the Oath.

Yes, there are people from Gondolin there, but who exactly? Turgon died. Idril was a child when the Oath happenned. They may not know, or they may not share the knowledge (but the later would be unwise).

Based on what the people of Sirion know and assume, their reply makes complete sense to me.

(Also, it seems like it was less a clear "nope" and more of a "umm, let's wait till Earendil returns, but we can't give you an ETA for that".)

The remaining soF suddenly attack the poor people of Sirion and the book is pretty clear that this is bad. It's so bad that some of their followers change sides and die trying to protect Elwing (because of course they do die, we can't have any characters getting any sort of redemption… yea, I understand, it makes sense realism-wise that they all die. But still, non-lethal wounds causing unconciousnes are a thing and I think it was a thing among the Elves? I can't remember an example)

Anyway, A&A die (because this is the unburned version).

Oh, and also Gil-Galad comes to the (too late) rescue (with Círdan). Which means that the mainstream Noldor are (for the first time) willing to fight the Feanorians. They just miss the party. Hmmm, this one detail makes me more fond of G-G son of Fingon. Because: think of the angst. (Or even better: G-G son of one of the Feanorians. But this has other problems)

There are a few survivors who join G-G.

It is told that E&E were captured. It is told that Elwing jumped to the sea with the Silmaril.

For the capture we later get a confirmation. But not for how exactly Elwing landed in the sea.

No info on how much she knew about her sons (already captured? assumed dead? hidden? whatever?). No info on whether she panicked and run blindly, or tried to distract M&M from killing other people, or wanted to maneuvre them into falling into the sea too, or one of myriads of possible scenarios. Or just even fell by a lucky "accident".

You want a perfect, flawless Elwing? The text doesn't contradict it (though she is at least a bit indecisive or not in such a position of power that would make sense given her parentage).

You want a stupid, indecisive Elwing who does a random thing? The text doesn't contradict it.

You want a young, lost, completely panicked Elwing? The text doesn't contradict it.

You want Elwing putting the prosperity of her people (which is assumed to be based on the Silaril) and them not dying of hunger above her own children? The text doesn't contradict it.

(No, we can't have a canon-compliant terrible mom Elwing, we'll get a counter for this.)

She joins Earendil and they are really terrified about their captured sons. So yes, they do care about their sons. they fear that M&M will kill them.

Kidnap fam mentioned, Maglor is sad and tired because Oath. :,(

Earendil wears the Silmaril on his forehead. So… what happenned to the necklace? Did Ulmo take it when he shapeshifted Elwing? The text very much sounds like the necklace is now gone, it's just the gem.

It is said among the gnomes wise, that the Silamril was what guided them to Valinor and let them pass all the magic barriers/traps.

Elwing has Lúthien vibes of "No, I am your wife, you aren't going to do the deadly risky thing alone!"

Earendil comes during a celebration and we are reminded that it's just like Morgoth and Ungoliant did (but he does it by accident). Nice bracketing, I guess? He is scared that even if Valinor something bad happenned. I like this scene.

Eonwe gives him a really cool (however very formal) greeting. "the looked for that cometh at unawares, the longed for that cometh beyond hope." I love this line. Yes, a lot of Tolkien's good lines give the vibe of "wrote it as part of a prayer, rewrote it to fit in his fantasy book". It's not a flaw. But I do find it a peculiar kind of funny.

Anyway, stuff is happenning. The Valar summon even Ulmo for a conversation. They talk. Námo plays the bad cop, which peronally I don't like but ok. I guess somebody has to, it is his job.

Manwë goes "we won't punish them, because they took this risk out of love" which is a solid argument. Earendil&Elwing (and by mention their sons) get the choice.

Also, interesting wording (or translation): they will be judged according to the laws of the species they chose. Huh. Interesting phrasing, I'm not sure what to think of it.

I totally forgot Elwing chilling out with the Teleri in the meantime.

Anyway, Vingilot gets an upgrade, the three sailors get a new ship. Also, doors of Night mentioned. Also, Earendil comes back to Valinor at sunrise and sunset. And it does seem like he does land, he is banned from the mortal lands, but not from Aman? So I guess he does spend some time home with Elwing. When she flies to him it's just to meet him earlier.

But I may be wrong.

Estel / "High Hope" mentioned.

M&M notice a new star. Confirmation that they saw the Silmaril sinking in the sea. Mae is like "Sure it's the silmaril." Maglor is like "we are supposed to rejoice." Anyway they do, at least they are no longer despairing.

And Morgoth is freaked out. :D But he doesn't expect the war (as they say), because the Valar were upset at the Noldor, and he doesn't get what pity is.

The army has white banners, the Vanyar are there (all of them? I suppose Ingwë stayed with Manwe, because before we were told he never went back to ME? Maybe only some Vanyar went to war.) And so are the non-Exile Noldor.

There are some Teleri in the army of the West!!! Just not many. At least that's how the Polish text reads. "Not many wanted to go to war" — so, some did want? some went?

More Teleri (convinced by Elwing) join as sailors, but those Teleri stay at the ships and don't touch tha land. (So yes, it seems there were other Teleri there)

I will leave the War of Wrath for later, maybe for the Morgoth into the Void day 1. Maybe not. Maybe i will do it sooner.

[spreadingawarenessandlove]

FUCK ALL THE PEOPLE BASICALLY DEFENDING WILLIAM GOLD (WILBUR SOOT) BY SAYING HE'S AUTISTIC.

(starting notes: this is most likely going to be very much rambling and jumping from one thing to another. I am just very upset about the situation and what some people are saying about it and needed to clear my head.)

I, myself am autistic and ADHD and regardless of whether you realize it or not, you are stereotyping autistic people by basically saying that they don't know when to stop when asked and can't understand boundaries. Well!! spoiler alert!!! WE DO UNDERSTAND BOUNDARIES. AND IF SOMEONE ASKS US TO STOP IF WE'RE HURTING THEM/MAKING THEM UNCOMFORTABLE? WE WILL!!! WHY??? BECAUSE IT'S BASIC HUMAN DECANCY.

Autistic people are people too. With feelings, emotions, opinions, and boundaries. Just like every other human being on this planet. We are human, just with a more different mindset than most. And most Autistic people try their best to respect people's boundaries and to listen to people when they say no or to stop. If William Gold really is autistic and has a known habit of biting, he could have easily gone on Amazon and gotten a chewing necklace to help with the habit. They're like $5-11 and they almost always come in packs of 3-5 or more. I've had several throughout my life, and they really do help with said habit. So he has NO reason and NO excuse to be biting someone else instead. ESPECIALLY TO THE POINT THE PERSON IS SCREAMING AT THEM AND USING A SAFE WORD TO STOP.

And you people have to keep in mind that the biting isn't the only awful thing he's done to Shelby. He has physically abused her. He had pinned her down and had told her to try her hardest to get him off with full knowledge that she has been $e×ually assaulted before and then said something along the lines of that, he was so much stronger than her and that "she wouldn't be able to fight back". Had likely loved bombed her at the beginning of the relationship to make her stay(which, if you didn't know is a big red flag). Threw away almost all of her things after they broke up without even telling her. Manipulated her and gaslighted her (saying he wanted kids/marriage and then further into the relationship telling her he never wanted that & never said that) plus A LOT more.

Long story short:

-The autistic excuse is a load of fucking bullshit.

-PLEASE do some research about Neurodivergent people before you say anything relating to them online.

-While you're at it, research different kinds of abuse and manipulative behavior because you obviously don't understand that THIS? BITING someone to the point it HURTS AND THEY ARE SCREAMING? IS VERY CLEARLY ABUSE.

-Stop defending someone who already owned up to it (in the most shittiest and self-centered way possible, making it all about himself and also not even mentioning her NAME ONCE).

-Get off whatever social media platform you're on and either go play a game, go outside, read a book, or go to sleep if its late.

-And Always Support The Victim. NEVER The Fucking Abuser.

___________________________________________

(Final notes: I seriously recommend that you watch Shelby's VOD of you haven't and read these websites start to finish. You'll find a lot that relates back to William's behavior. Both inside and outside this relationship.

Shelby Shubble VOD

After reading them, I still recommend that you do more research about the topics I brought up. It could save your life one day.)