#and fear is not worth a life choice of that scale. but love is

[asinglesock]

so uh

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Do you remember the stars?

Sebastian Solace x Reader

"You have been making questionable choices regarding your inventory lately. What is this nonsense? It only takes up precious space."

Sebastian had stolen the little bundle of photographs from your person, visibly upset with your unforgivable crime of permitting yourself the mistake of carrying such sentimental things.

You pouted at him.

"Practical value is not the only thing that matters to me, Seb. Give those back."

"These are a distraction that will get you killed. I am not allowing this. You will focus on your missions and the preservation of your life. I do not want to find your corpse for the umpteenth time because of this tomfoolery."

"Somebody is very worried about me, I see. Have I found a home in your heart, Seb? Or did I create a new heart in the place of the old one that had disappeared ages ago?"

"Such an abysmal tragedy that you cannot conjure a new brain for yourself, while you are at it, my beloved light."

You giggled, amused with his silly insults.

He didn't stop you when you approached him, gently caressing along his tail, admiring his scales. You felt him shudder under your touch, your tenderness. He would never admit how sensitive his tail was, despite you proving it time and time again with your caresses and kisses.

"Will you return my photographs?"

"No."

You slowly climbed into his lap, squeezing his sides, reaching for one of his hands, kissing it once, twice, an infinite amount of kisses.

"Pretty please?"

"Never."

You leaned your head onto his chest, waiting to hear the cadence of his heart, knowing well that it was only beating for you.

"Silly man. I would love to have a photograph of you, though."

"You know how I feel about flashing lights, dollface. No cameras near me."

You tried to sneakily take the photographs away, but he held them out of reach.

"Naughty, naughty. Do not play tricks with me. It may cost you dearly."

"You are impossible. Let's make a deal. We look at them together, I explain the meaning of each of them, and if you deem it fit, you will return them to me. If not, I will not ask for them again."

He pondered your offer for a few minutes, before grinning.

"Add a little kiss to seal the deal and we have an arrangement."

You made a sweet little moan as his lips claimed yours, savouring you, worshipping you. His sharp teeth grazed the tender flesh, tempted to draw blood, but he commanded his instincts to remain under control. He did not wish to lose himself. Not yet.

You had to gather your thoughts, submerged in the ocean of his desire. He was a dangerous being, and his love was a force to be reckoned with. Never forget that.

Clearing your throat, you began with your little presentation, showing him each photograph and what it represented from your former life. Your favourite town squares, flowers in bloom, silly pictures of kittens playing with toys, wondrous landscapes, beautiful and little things that made life worth living.

Sebastian observed you with a dull sorrow nesting in his chest. Such a darling you were, speaking of earthly things with a joy unlike no other. Your inner light had to be otherwordly, Fae magic, sorcery. It had the power to dissipate darkness and despair as if it were a mere nothing. A force of Life melting the clutches of Death.

A part of him feared that your faerie self would one day never return, leaving him in the shadows, rotting for all eternity. He deserved nothing less, he was well aware.

He felt you poke him several times, bringing him back from his dark thoughts.

"Seb! Hello? Look at this one. Dusk, the early appearance of the magnificent moon and the royal court of stars. Do you see how beautifully the light reflects off the clouds?"

Sebastian narrowed his glowing blue eyes at the small picture, admiring it from both a technical and aesthetic angle. Impressive night vision features of the camera that had taken such a picture. Marvellous angle.

It had been an eternity since he had enjoyed the scent of night air and the beauty of the stars. Constellations twinkling in the midnight sky. A promise of freedom.

They say that stars could fall and grant wishes. Were you his fallen star? His true fate?

You whispered gently, cupping his cheeks:

"Do you remember the stars, Sebastian? I promise you, we will see them once more. Together."

[ennn]

How are you feeling about the aaa finale? idk I’m loving this show so much and I’m so afraid of being disappointed by the ending. I was still hoping for everyone to come back but now I’m accepting that they are gone, gone and the way it’s going Agatha’s coven will only be her and Billy and I like him but not nearly as much as I love everyone else

And then there is Rio, hopeful I’m just being too pessimistic but I fear the show will just end with her still being the antagonist, they will fight, there will be a truce and she won’t kill Agatha and Billy and they will part ways. The only way we will get that kiss is in the flashback which will be worth it but I still wanted more. idk the interviews usually makes me excited for what’s next but this time it made me conflicted

but Jac saying the show will be all about Agatha to the very end was nice to read. I can’t stand all this talk about where is wanda??? who knows but not in this show hopefully!!!

Hello Anon! Well, I would say my emotional state towards the finale has been about the same for the past few weeks, which is a mix of absolute excitement and nerves.

Probably not the best for my emotional and mental health so maybe I should be glad this is a limited series! My body certainly will be.

I was entertaining the thought of dead coven members possibly coming back but Lilia's death was so beautiful and her choice despite it being also her destiny, and her arc was about accepting the life she had and making the best of it and embracing her power.

As for Alice, it's possible she comes back, but it's also possible her character gets closure and moves on, given that we do know there's a scene with her post-death coming up. And Jac Schaeffer seems big on delivering emotional satisfaction at the end of her stories (not to say she's guaranteed to deliver, but it's her goal at least).

Putting the rest under a cut because omg this got long

I have some meta thoughts brewing about this episode's take on destiny and fate and time and death (alongside other death personifications in media) and as hinted at in the latest Schaeffer interviews, there's definitely stuff the show wants to say about it.

On another note, I've mostly processed my feelings about the tragedy of these two as star-crossed lovers in this post if you haven't read it it may help. For me it's still hard to get a read on Rio as they're building new lore with this version of Death. This is definitely not the same Lady Death from Marvel comics.

But I do think that it's actually a good thing that Agatha and Rio are getting into open conflict, the same way Agatha and Billy are having it out in the open, because the characters need to deal with their shit.

And I feel like... especially from the last episode, the show isn't setting up Death to be evil, or necessarily bad. Death is Agatha's antagonist because – as Schaeffer puts it – she refuses it, she refutes it. Lilia ran from her visions because she wanted to avoid seeing death but ultimately embraced it. Agatha's a rule-breaker, a trickster but witchcraft is inherently rooted in nature.

There isn't a simple or clear answer here on what's right or wrong, which is why I'm really interested to see how the finale unfolds. Schaeffer genuinely seems to love ambiguity and the discussions around her shows.

Like yes, Agatha and Rio are going to fight. That's not really new for them? Okay maybe the scale of this will be. But as we've seen with all these reveals, what really matters is how and why and all the details in its crafted execution.

And again, Schaeffer has said that she's aiming for an emotionally satisfying conclusion. Even if the stories for these characters continue beyond, this series is designed to stand on its own. And the Agatha-Rio relationship has been important to the show, from the very first episode.

I'll also be making a predictions post for the finale for funsies, if you want to see what my guesses and expectations are.

[seonghwalazia]

we're always one with the ocean. | Hongjoong/Seonghwa

» summary: Hongjoong knows the stories. Has heard every variety across every port of call, in blustery taverns and on the deck of a galleon. He’s witnessed the far-away longing swirl in the depths of idealistic eyes, has heard the hushed whispers threaded with frissons of fear. You cannot answer the call of the sea without knowing even the smallest taste; merfolk are out there, and they yearn for nothing from you save the hunt.

» pairing: Pirate!Hongjoong / Merfolk!Seonghwa

» rating: mature

» content warning for angst, character death, romance, tragedy, introspection

» author's note: shrugs?

» ao3 link

Hongjoong knows the stories. They all do, every sailor worth his salt. Every kind of tale you could imagine; a fantasy, a romance, a joke, a warning. Told over dripping mugs of ale, teeth flashing in the dark; lithe and sensuous bodies that glide through the waves, with laughter like music and hands so soft they feel as seafoam. Raucous laughter and too-sweet descriptions of shining eyes bleeding from the dark, lilting voices carried upon the wind. Something to warm you on lonely nights, swaying together with the waves that beat a constant, staggering drum against the hull of the ship as you try and remember how it felt to hold someone in your arms.

Sometimes, sometimes - the tales are whispered into the gloam of midnight. The waves too steady, unsettling in the juxtaposition to the normally tempestuous rhythm of the sea. When there is a blanket of unease pulled over the crew, shoulders huddled together and nails bitten to the quick, chapped lips forming the words in an almost-reverence. Danger, those tales warn. Fall not for the subtle seduction of sirens who will charm you, smile for you, love you - only to drag you down to the crushing depths for nothing more than sport. The steady-building horror of the silence of the sea, squeezing ‘round your head until nothing remains but the flash of shining eyes and white teeth a little too pointed. 

(Not even realizing what a fool you’ve been until the bitter cold of the sea digs deep its relentless claws; not until the darkest desire of your woefully senseless little heart grins with too-sharp teeth, raking and tearing until all that is left of your memory is a silent scream far beneath the waves.)

They are neither soft, nor subtle; as untameable as the sea and twice as cruel.

Hongjoong knows the stories. Has heard every variety across every port of call, in blustery taverns and on the deck of a galleon. He’s witnessed the far-away longing swirl in the depths of idealistic eyes, has heard the hushed whispers threaded with frissons of fear. You cannot answer the call of the sea without knowing even the smallest taste; merfolk are out there, and they yearn for nothing from you save the hunt.

His own call came in the form of an all-encompassing desire for freedom. To leave not-quite-home behind and forge a path uniquely his own, surrounded by his family of choice. To stand on a creaking ship and feel the wind, taste the salt-spray air. Chasing rumors and gold and living as he saw fit. 

(He’s one of the lucky ones. Too clever by half, good with a cutlass and better with words. He’d clawed from the mud and into the sun with nothing but his smarts, and a half dozen good men who believed in his madness.)

He belongs to the ocean; loves and reveres and respects her as she deserves. Life and death in equal measure, in the ever-changing grasp of a phenomena known to kill men like him with nary a whisper on the wind. There is nothing more beautiful, nothing more damning, than the song of the sea.

Hongjoong knows the stories. He finds himself lured by curiosity, nonetheless. 

---

He recognizes the signs; common on moonlit nights when the sea is calm and exhaustion weighs down your bones. Not quite ready to sleep, not when it’s you and the endless sea of stars and the gentle rock of the waves, steady as a heartbeat. The flash of scales just beneath the blue and black, too long and quick to be a fish. Perhaps an otherworldly whisper on the wind, teasing your senses until you’re drawn to the edge, squinting out at the darkness with hands gripping tight enough to the railing that the colour bleeds clean from your knuckles.

(Hongjoong belongs to the ocean. Has mastered her moods, scouted her waters and come out the victor. Surely, even this test he will pass.)

---

The night is calm, even if the crew is not. There is still celebration, still laughter and spilled rum staining the deck. They are victorious, and all the richer for their audacity. An imperial frigate given as offer to the sea, its cargo firmly in the hands of Captain Kim to spill across his crew until they’re drunk on their untouchability. 

He grins with them, laughs with them, and takes a sip for every flagon they empty, hawkish eyes ever on the horizon. 

Firelight flickers and paints the Treasure in gilded gold, a moonless night their companion as they crest gently over the waves of the southern reaches. Hongjoong leans against the portside railing, wide-brimmed hat tipped low over his brow and lazy grin painting his mouth. He watches silent as his men drink and dance and make merry, Jongho serenading them with his honey-sweet voice and Yunho nothing but bright grins as he stands tall, telling the story of how he’d bested the frigate’s bosun for the sixth time.

(They are home, and family; as surely as the sea that calls out to something buried within his blood.)

Still, he keeps a weather eye. Relaxed as he can force himself to be, as he allows his boys their joyful exuberance. And something tells him, with the hair that stands on the back of his neck, with the shiver running from his spine to his toes - turn around.

(Lured by curiosity, nonetheless.)

He looks, turns his head, just past his right shoulder. Off in the distance and off into the night, there is the flash of scales. Just beneath the depth of blue and black, the shadow passing beneath the waves too long and quick to be a fish.

There’s something in the water, Hongjoong thinks as the lazy grin he wears sharpens like the honed edge of a blade. He throws the last sips of his rum into the sea, watches how it drops like a slurry of rain for half a breath before it settles. A suitable enough offering to his mistress, a flash of humor twitching his smile as he adjusts his hat and reaches into a pocket for the tight and frayed balls of cotton he keeps on hand.

(They don't just sing, he’s been told; though their song is sweeter than the hymns of heaven. They speak, and they convince, and they smile with too-sharp teeth and weave their intricate falsities to drag you down and down and down until all that remains in the blessed quiet of the grave.)

Plugging his ears and taking a breath, he chances a glance at the crew; distracted, daring, they cajole and laugh and challenge one another to another game, another fight. There is joy in their blood, and when Hongjoong is satisfied they will not be taken from him this night, he turns back to watch the water.

And finds not the flash of scales, but a pale face watching him in turn.

Time comes to sudden and startling halt, as all sound and light falls away to nothing. Hongjoong goes utterly still in his boots, breath leaving him in a reedy little gust. He locks eyes with the creature, hand curling over the worn railing until his nails catch on an errant splinter and the shock of pain reminds him to breathe.

He is the night sky made manifest, as pretty and enticing as any treasure of glitter and gold. With milky skin and dark hair that sticks to his neck, falling down to his collarbones. Wide eyes, black as the deepest swirls of night; reflecting the stars on high in tiny pinpricks of silver light that Hongjoong can see even at a distance. And curling artfully over his exposed arms, decorating his naked chest - scales, of opalline silver. They curve over the delicate arch of his neck, follow the trail of high cheekbones and disappear beneath the fall of his hair.

He’s beautiful, like the sea at dusk. Just as dangerous, twice as cruel.

Those wide, dark eyes widen further, too big and bright like the oversized jewels dotted around a woman’s neck. Shell pink lips parting in surprise, before he disappears into the water with a flash of a tail the length of Hongjoong’s entire body, silver and sweet and gone in a breath.

It could have been a moment, it could have been an hour. It takes an hour more, regardless, for Hongjoong to prise his hands from the railing and finally turn his back to the waves. 

He tells no one, not wishing to worry nor entice any of the crew. Tells himself to forget, that it was nothing more than a reminder of the bewitching dangers of those ocean denizens that decry him worthy as carrion, without mercy nor warnings. And yet - it puzzles him, like a dream half-remembered. The creature had said nothing, done nothing. Hadn't drawn near, nor woven his song; and still Hongjoong is as unsettled as if he’d been lured by soft voice and softer hands.

Brow furrowing and deep in contemplation, all he remembers in the flash of silver is the queer taste of curiosity. A mystery wrapped in a fetching package; treasure yet to be claimed. 

---

The next time Hongjoong sees a flash of silver, he has bitten off more than he can chew.

The Treasure burns, flames eagerly licking up the mast to engulf the mainsail in a spectacular display that turns his heart to ice. It is chaos, utterly; shouting and screaming and the flash of steel in the blood-red sunset. Cannonfire bursts through the air until his ears ring with it, knuckles bleeding white where he grips, desperate to his cutlass and pistol. Bleeding lips split into a snarl, he can smell gunpowder and blood and he’s fairly certain Yeosang is already dead.

There’s no - time, not to consider or mourn or try and gather the shattered pieces of his dismal fucking legacy. His crew, his boys, his heart - they bare their teeth and fight to the last, clawing their way to a victory Hongjoong knows they won't reach.

Not this time.

The spray of the sea mixes with the blood that stains the deck, and he thinks for one quiet, hysterical moment that it’s all rather par for the course, isn't it? The salt in their blood and in the ocean waves is one and the same, and to the sea they will inevitably return. 

His vision wavers as he blocks the swing of an officer’s blade, only inches from his face. The fight is fierce, chest heaving from exertion as his boots slip in something slick and his spine slams against the railing of the quarterdeck. 

Disoriented, dizzy; Hongjoong blinks the sweat from his eyes and hears plain how his death knell rings - the thunder of a cannon, and the sickening crack that he knows deep in his bones surely must be the main mast. 

Time slows to a crawl, as he and the officer both look on in horror as the shrouds snap, one by graceless one. They are treated to the impossible sight of the fluttering sail, burning steadily and falling, nearly gently, as the mast begins to collapse. 

His ears still ring. The only sound breaking through the din is the steady and hurried thunder of his heart, its beats steadily counting down. He will die this day, at the hands of mortal men who hate him so, and not from the cold and welcome embrace of the tide. It surges the anger in his veins, righteous and furious to behold. Hongjoong drops his pistol, shot already fired and utterly useless, and grips tight to his blade with both hands to shove it through the spine of the officer who still watches, wide-eyed, as death descends upon them all in one fell swoop.

(Easily distracted. Worthless. Were he part of his crew, Hongjoong would have had him whipped to the bone.)

He nearly bisects the man in his fury, honed edge of his cutlass singing as it glides easily through muscle and bone. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Hongjoong thinks he might be screaming. They have taken his ship, his crew, his life. He will not go quiet. 

The worn and familiar wood of the deck lurches beneath his feet, but he cannot - look, cannot comprehend. Hongjoong instead blinks the tears from his eyes and looks to his men -

Finding nothing but blood and ash. There are shadows, and the spark of gunfire. Shouts and panic and chaos - the mast buckles one final time, and Hongjoong turns his face heavensward to watch the final fluttering fall of the black flag, sword slipping free of shaking fingers. 

And then - he is falling.

Something gripping tight to the back of his coat, and the world shifts on its axis as he tumbles gracelessly over the edge. Hongjoong hits the surface of the sea with wide eyes, with nary a moment to adjust before he is being yanked viciously away. Away, away from his ship, his crew. To run, to die apart from them -

Panic seizes his muscles as his eyes flash, teeth bared in a silent snarl. His breath expels in a flurry of bubbles that dance skyward and now, now there is little comfort to be found that at long last the sea has chosen to take him.

He remembers to move his arms, kick out his legs, fight, damn you -

Arms wrapping around him from behind, cowing and cradling and confining. The flash of silver, and whispered words pressed to the shell of his ear. 

“Peace,” the voice croons to him, something nearly aggrieved in the low intonation of his voice, making Hongjoong go still in the embrace of both deceptively strong arms and the crushing weight of the sea. The night sky made manifest, as pretty and enticing as any treasure of glitter and gold - cradling him and hushing him and the glide of opalline scales feels like heaven against Hongjoong’s battered and bruised flesh.

His hands twitch but he complies, chest tightening from the lack of air. His stomach lurches and the frigid water tears at his skin but he listens - the creature’s sweet-sounding voice dipping into his ears like honey. With every whispered word he relaxes, floating gently beneath the waves and able to do naught but watch as his world is torn asunder. 

The creature holds him in a bruising grip, not once relenting even as he swims gracefully to circle him. Long tail curling around Hongjoong’s legs, hair a darkened smudge as it floats eerily about his pointed ears. And those eyes, those eyes - they flash in the dark, greedily drinking every last shred of light and shining silver in the dark. 

He looks to Hongjoong like he is precious, like he is a naive boy easily lured by a song as sweet as sin. Hands moving to cup his cheeks, pointed claws at the tip of his fingers dragging over his skin until it burns.

“My treasure,” the creature whispers, the words muted but clear even through the water. He presses his mouth to Hongjoong’s, sweet as honeyed ale and very nearly shy. The gentle press of lips, tongue probing Hongjoong to open his mouth and the blessed touch of air fills his lungs; a gift from the curse-singing mouth of his dear and dreadful siren.

He pulls away to lock eyes, and though Hongjoong’s burn from the salt and the exertion still he watches, entranced, as the siren smiles prettily for him, long hair dancing in the waves and opalline scales catching the glow of the far-flung fire that burns his heart, far above on the surface. The light reaches for them, brightening the silt and painting his siren in gold, like the sea at dusk. 

Beautiful, Hongjoong thinks, even as the siren’s palms curve, soft as seafoam, over the sides of his neck. Keeping him steady and grounded, lips parting in a grin that does little to hide too-sharp teeth, ducking down until that sinful mouth full of the promise of death can press like a secret against the curve of Hongjoong’s cheek.

“My treasure,” the siren whispers once more, reverent and suffused with musical laughter. Hongjoong’s eyes close of their own volition, air leaving his lungs in a flurry of bubbles; body relaxing to rock with the waves. The last thing he hears is the low and beguiling timbre of his siren’s song, at last gracing his ears before he is pulled down

and down

and down.

[queenthiax]

Gilly's Letters

Just a tidbit I wanted to get out of my brain, Gilly Cinderheart you have all of my heart <3 Even though I like to break it doing things like this.

- Dear Mama,

I made it to the adventurer’s guild! I would have written earlier, but getting all of the paperwork done and settled into my quarters ended up taking longer than I expected and the next thing I knew we were getting schedules and orders.

Everything around here happens so quickly it makes my head spin. I think Papa would like the hustle and bustle of the routine though. He always complains about how bored he is at home. 

They’re telling me that training starts tomorrow though. I thought getting accepted into the Guild meant that they had already assigned me to a seasoned adventurer, but it seems that there is some basic training they like everyone to go through before that. And something about the choices being made ‘after the heroes get to see our grit’ with their own eyes.

I’m taking everything in stride though! I’ll make sure to show everyone here what I’ve got and make sure the support everyone at home has given me will be worth it!

All of my love,

Gilly-pad

–

Dearest Mama,

Thank you for the care package, knowing that a taste of home will be waiting for me after each day of training is the best motivation to get through the day.

Training is… hard. I knew it would be, but it's so eye opening the difference in expectations here for monster hunting and adventuring is to the little threats that I handled for everyone at home. Really gives a lot of scale to how important the work is!

We haven’t had any adventurer’s looking for apprentices coming in yet, but my teachers all say they’re really impressed with my skills! Especially my ‘special skill’. It’s been really amusing to spar with others who take my size for granted and get to show them how sturdy us halflings can be!

Doing everything to keep you proud, give Papa my love.

Your Gilly-pad

–

MAMA!!!!

I GOT CHOSEN!! I’M OFFICIALLY AN APPRENTICE TO A GREAT ADVENTURER!!

MAMA YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO IT IS!! 

THE GREAT SIR HORACE TREATY!!!

HE CAME AND WATCHED US AND PICKED ME OUT OF EVERYONE!!!

I’M SO HAPPY I COULD MELT!!

YOUR OFFICIAL ADVENTURER APPRENTICE DAUGHTER!!

LOVE LOVE LOVE FROM YOUR GILLY-PAD

–

My lovely Mama,

Life on the road has been so hectic, I apologize for the sporadic letters. I didn’t realize how unreliable sending through different post offices could be. Don’t worry too much about trying to keep track of me, sending them to the Adventurer’s Guild will make sure I get them eventually!

But it’s officially been a month! I’ve already been on so many adventures and helped slay so many monsters. It’s been a wonder to watch Sir Horace and his frequent companions work.

Sir Horace treats me well! We’re still getting to know each other so I do fear sometimes he keeps up his ‘hero’ act up with me, but I know I’m wearing him down!

Can’t write long since I have so many tasks to keep up with! But do know I’m having the time of my life! Tell Papa to not get jealous of my adventures!

Your monster slaying girl,

Gilly-pad

–

Mama,

I know the letters don’t come often enough, I’m so sorry about that. Sir Horace is taking my training seriously though and keeping me plenty busy!

Not only am I learning about actual adventuring and monster slaying, but he is doing the work to make sure I stay… humble. It’s important to not look down on all of the small tasks that keep you moving every day!

And I am never bored! Even when we’re not working Sir Horace keeps my mind sharp with his tales of his years of experience!

One day I want to show you all the places I’ve seen… I think you’d like some of them. But not as much as I love home, I hope to visit you soon.

All my love,

Gilly-pad

–

Mamsies,

I was just speaking with Sir Horace and he has given me leave once we get back to the city to come back home and visit for a while! He won’t have need of my services for a bit and I do crave your cooking.

We have an engagement - the fabled feast of glory - on the 25th of this month, but afterwards I’ll make my way back to you all! And I’ll be able to tell you of all the heroes I meet at the party!

Missing you and Papa always,

Gilly-pad

–

As darkness starts to take her - her body worn and bruised - the bravado of her last ‘fuck you’ leaves Gilly’s heart… one final thought… “I wish I could have read your letters Mama… I hope you’ve gotten mine… I’m sorry I couldn’t make good on my promise to visit one last time….”

[ipsen]

etoken, 001

rubs my silly wittle hands togethew

when I started shipping it if I did

i've always shipped it on the downlow since the re scene (The One), but i started hardcore shipping at the start of last year, when I did a reread then happened upon an old eto meta post. after actually internalizing their similarities and why they were so naturally drawn to/rejecting of each other, i caved.

my thoughts:

they hate themselves, but when it comes to the other, they can never fully hate them, and that scares them. it leaves them at a sort of crossroads where they can either pursue this fear and conquer it, or succumb to it. the former requires a lot of wingmanning, but is worth it, while the latter will simply leave them giving odd stares at each other every now and then. i just want them to be happy together because that would be nice and they would be whole :]

What makes me happy about them:

they're flexible! it's possible to have an arc about them learning to reconcile and love the worst parts of themselves by loving each other. kaneki rekindles eto's empathy, and eto teaches kaneki how to make choices. on the flipside, it can end really badly. a breakup between these two probably ends up with one of them dead (or multiple uninvolved parties dead (or both)), if not both. they have a tendency to cling (cling) to things that love them, to the point that having one more rejection will push them off the edge.

What makes me sad about them:

their interactions are so few :( i wanted to see them talk more, even if it was just in cochlea. i wonder if eto ever sought out reaperneki during the six month timeskip

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

an annoyingly high portion of the etoken fics on ao3 are just multiships ft. kaneki’s harem and i despise it. it’s just disappointing. also there are some bad eto’s in some of the fics and it’s even more disappointing.

things I look for in fanfic:

character studies of eto and kaneki that utilize the other. fics that explore their pain on some level, or their resignation to death, or even a bucket list are interesting.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: that sounds illegal :(

My happily ever after for them:

a quiet, anonymous life in society where they have regular contact with their loved ones (of which they have plenty). a place where kaneki can cook for eto, and eto can provide kaneki with a little snack in peace ;]

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

eto is the little spoon. she gets a power trip out of being clung to like she matters, and also it keeps her grounded when her thoughts wander to the bad places. kaneki needs something to hold onto because he wants to be the reason that someone stays (despite often allowing them to do otherwise). holding onto eto and knowing she enjoys it means that he's needed, and that's all he's ever wanted.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

sexually charged book discussions, often about tragedy, mystery, or horror. there are actually slight differences in their analyses despite their similarities. kaneki analyzes more emotionally and like a reader in the truest sense. he approaches the scales local to the narrative and what is in the text itself + his own experiences ("death of the author", if you will). meanwhile, eto is more macro-scale in terms of thought, approaching the narratives as an author would and accounting for cultural, temporal, and author-specific influences. she effectively tries to distill the author's intention when discussing, and why that's important. it complements kaneki, both because it fills gaps in his knowledge and because there's finally someone who can actually keep up and engage with him.

——-

thanks for the ask <3

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

kotokiri

1. Foils do it better!!! I LOVE how they both mirror each other, and how that fuels their immediate animosity from afar but also the fixation and fear. They both clock the other as their most significant opponent in the Holy Grail War, sight unseen. And it’s because they each respectively see something of themself in the other’s actions. I’m also obsessed with how the narrative draws those similarities only to break them. I love that moment at the end of Zero, where Kirei sees Kiritsugu stumbling through the rubble of the city, utterly wretched and with no will to fight, and how disappointed he is at it. Or in Heaven’s Feel when Kirei is ranting at Shirou about how much he hates Kiritsugu because it turns out he never had evil!depression the same way Kirei did, he just *chose* to distance himself from people who he loved and who loved him, and his miserable life was of his own making. Whereas Kirei isn’t isolated by choice, he’s just… born evil. That kind of ships passing in the night quality, of just nearly being able to understand each other and connect, but turning out to be fundamentally at odds is fascinating to me!

2. Their trajectories are so interesting and complementary, they technically both “lose” and “win” on their respective emotional and goal based journeys. Kiritsugu’s main goal was to sacrifice the few to save the many, doggedly convinced that at the end of the road there was going to be some awesome miracle to right all wrongs ever, and save everyone (no matter what “saving” means) that would retroactively make all the sacrifice and suffering worth it. And it’s just such a compounding sunk cost fallacy of a perspective—that itself is just a coping mechanism to avoid dealing with the trauma of killing his father, of everyone on the island dying, of *not* having the courage to kill shirley when he should’ve— that he’s ready to sacrifice literally anything and anyone for it. And he loses on this front SO dramatically. There is no big miracle or anything to justify all the previous griefs. They simply exist and he has to deal with them! But emotionally he manages some sort of small happy ending in saving Shirou, and in idk learning to appreciate people I guess? It’s definitely more bitter than sweet but it’s something. Meanwhile Kirei starts out like genuinely trying to be a decent person and go through the motions of adhering to any morals whatsoever and he fails at that abysmally. His corruption arc is a quick plummet down a cliff lmao. And that should be/can be considered a negative outcome. He’s no closer to understanding his nature, even if he’s chosen to embrace it. Meanwhile, Kiritsugu, the person he’d singled out as similar to himself turned out to very much not me. And he may have felt some kinship with Angra Mainyu but it didn’t happen either! But yeah uh on the tremendously brighter side he *has* embraced being evil, and the Grail’s answer to his wish was a small scale apocalypse and he has a great time with it. Idk idk it’s just so interesting and funny.

3. Okay okay ruthless, miserable mercenary and evil priest is just a fun and hot dynamic, I don’t know what to tell you!

Send me a ship and I’ll list three things I like about it regardless of my overall opinion!

[aniket59]

Title - "Therapy in India: An Expensive Burden or a Life-Changing Investment?"

Imagine waking up every morning feeling trapped in an invisible cage of stress, anxiety, or past trauma. The world moves on, but inside, you feel stuck. The weight of unspoken emotions and silent battles drains your energy, making even the simplest tasks feel unbearable. At that moment, therapy isn’t just a choice—it’s a lifeline. But when people in India consider seeking therapy, a big question looms: Is therapy an expensive burden or a life-changing investment?

How Much Does Therapy Cost in India? 💰

The price of therapy varies widely depending on the city, therapist’s experience, and type of counseling required. Here’s a rough estimate:

Government Hospitals & NGOs: ₹0 – ₹500 per session (often long waiting times)

Private Therapists: ₹800 – ₹3,000 per session

Renowned Psychologists & Psychiatrists: ₹3,000 – ₹7,000 per session

Online Therapy Platforms: ₹500 – ₹2,500 per session

At first glance, these figures may seem overwhelming, especially in a country where mental health is still stigmatized. But here’s the real question: Is it worth it?

The Cost of NOT Taking Therapy 😞

What’s truly expensive is the cost of not seeking help. Not seeking therapy isn’t just about saving money—it’s about what you lose:

A mind weighed down by unhealed wounds can turn every moment into a silent struggle.

Relationships crumble under the pressure of unresolved pain and emotional distance.

Career dreams fade as mental exhaustion drains ambition and productivity.

Anxiety and sadness become lifelong companions instead of temporary emotions.

When mental health issues are ignored, they don’t disappear—they grow, consuming happiness and peace along the way. Therapy isn’t about spending money; it’s about reclaiming yourself.

Why Therapy is a Life-Changing Investment 💡

Think of therapy as an act of self-love, not an expense. Here’s what you gain:

Healing from past wounds 🩹 so they no longer define your future.

Emotional freedom 😌 that lets you breathe without the weight of yesterday.

Stronger, deeper relationships ❤️ where love is not burdened by unresolved pain.

The courage to embrace life 🌱 without fear, without hesitation.

Mental health isn’t a luxury—it’s the foundation of a meaningful, joyful life. Every session is a step towards self-discovery, resilience, and peace.

Finding Affordable Therapy Options in India ✅

Worried about high costs? You’re not alone. Here’s how you can make therapy more affordable:

Government mental health centers provide therapy at minimal rates.

University clinics offer free or low-cost therapy through psychology programs.

NGOs and support groups provide counseling at subsidized rates.

Online therapy platforms offer budget-friendly and flexible options.

Sliding scale therapists adjust fees based on financial capability.

Final Verdict: Expense or Investment?

It all depends on how you view mental health. If you believe therapy is a luxury, it will always seem expensive. But if you see it as a path to a healthier, happier you, it’s the best investment you can ever make.

How much does therapy cost in india?

Your mind matters. Your happiness matters. Your life is worth the effort. And investing in therapy? That’s not an expense—it’s a gift to yourself. 💙

Contact us at +91 98047 91047 or

help@lyfsmile.com 

Let Lyfsmile help you rediscover joy and peace in your life.

[colorme-purple]

Take Your Prosperity Personally

Whether you have plenty of cash or just barely scrape by every month, your current financial situation points directly to your attitude about moolah. Few of us understand how the monetary system works, how the economy operates, and how our beliefs about the combination click here to learn more of the two affect every choice we make in life. This lack of information and clarity is the breeding ground for our strongest fears about threats to our very survival.

Most people have a love-hate relationship with money. We love the rush of excitement we feel when we buy new things. We’re downright giddy when we get our tax refund or a bonus at work. We envy the lifestyles of the rich and famous. We dream of winning the lottery. And it warms our hearts to give money to a charity that provides assistance to our community.

But at the same time, we abhor money’s power to seduce and destroy. We fear we’re in danger of being lured by the siren song of the almighty dollar—becoming obsessed with it, losing our family and friends, and ending up lonely, bitter and selfish.

Love of money is the root of all evil, religions exhort. The fear of morphing into Ebenezer Scrooge or Bernie Madoff drives us toward the poverty end of the financial spectrum.

Which end of the money scale you’re on today can also reflect your level of self-confidence as viewed through the lens of monetary worth. Weak self-esteem will spawn the belief that you don’t deserve abundance and that you don’t have any skills that someone would pay you a hefty salary for.

But strong self-esteem uses a completely different lens. A confident person believes they can create financial abundance as an act of self-love and to help others. They embrace the power of abundance as their own, and use this unlimited resource to create a balanced, fulfilling life.

They also think that everyone has the potential to create their prosperity. They’re confident that they can create as much money as they need, and they support others in claiming their financial power.

[unmak3r]

ooc. daenerys & kelerel as leaders. currently thinking about the paralells between kelerel and daenerys; they were both a similar age when they were pulled into something far too big for them. being a pre-teen/early-teen being used and manipulated for corrupt purposes, being drawn into a fight that turns into a riot, that causes a battle and then a full-scale war. and all they wanted to do was free people from being enslaved and victimised by cruelty and fear. when daenerys becomes a khaleesi in her own right after the death of drogo and her first child, it is a similar energy to when kelerel becomes the high witch against the griddas. it's not something they really had a choice in, but something they took on because they have such strong moral beliefs & literally had no other choice other than to give up or give in to the 'evils'. the more they both give of themselves to a cause that they do love & believe in, the more of themselves they lose in the pursiut. is it all worth it? is has to be. at more than one point throughout, they both find themselves considering if this is worth their life - because they likely have to sacrifice their life, or the person they were/are, to this overwhelmingly large cause they were inevitably saddled with. they are both so lonely yet they are rarely alone, and it's often only when they are alone that they find themselves either at peace for a brief moment, or swamped with the enormity of their life.

[sweetyssg]

Ruby (Manik) Gemstone

Ruby, also known as Manik in Hindi, is a precious gemstone that belongs to the corundum mineral family. It is known for its rich red color and is one of the most valuable gemstones in the world. The vibrant red color of Ruby is caused by the presence of chromium in its composition.

Ruby is associated with passion, love, and energy. It has been highly regarded throughout history and is often considered the "king of gemstones." In ancient times, Ruby was believed to have protective properties and was worn by warriors in battle.

When it comes to jewelry, Ruby is a popular choice for engagement rings, earrings, pendants, and other types of fine jewelry. It is a durable gemstone with a hardness of 9 on the Mohs scale, second only to diamonds. This makes it suitable for everyday wear.

The quality and value of a Ruby depend on several factors, including its color, clarity, cut, and carat weight. The most desirable Rubies have a vivid red hue with excellent transparency and few inclusions. Rubies from Burma (Myanmar) are often considered the finest and command high prices in the market.

In terms of metaphysical properties, Ruby is believed to enhance vitality, passion, and motivation. It is said to stimulate the root chakra, promoting a sense of grounding and stability. Ruby is also associated with the heart chakra and is believed to encourage love, devotion, and deep connection in relationships.

If you're looking for a specific article about Ruby Manik gemstone, I recommend conducting a search online or referring to gemstone-specific websites, gemology magazines, or reputable jewelry publications. These sources can provide in-depth information and insights into the Ruby gemstone.

What is  Ruby Manik?

I'm not sure who or what you mean by "Ruby Manik" The "Ruby Manik Stone," often referred to as a "Ruby Gemstone" or "Manikya" in Hindi, may be the subject of your inquiry.

Aluminium oxide makes up the majority of the precious gemstone ruby, which is from the same mineral family as corundum. It is a rare gemstone with a red colour that is prized for its toughness, longevity, and rarity. Rubies were worn as a sign of authority, riches, and prosperity in antiquity because it was thought that they had mystical and therapeutic properties.

According to astrology, Ruby Manik is thought to possess potent astrological qualities that can result in favourable life improvements for a person. It is linked to the Sun's planet and is claimed to offer

What are the Benefits of Ruby Manik?

Although it's important to note that these beliefs are not supported by science and should be approached with scepticism and reason, Ruby Manik is thought to have a number of advantages in astrology. The following are a few alleged advantages of wearing a Ruby Manik stone:

Confidence Booster: Ruby Manik is known to boost self-assurance and self-worth. It can aid the wearer in overcoming their fears, anxiety, and shyness.

Enhances Creativity: Ruby Manik is thought to inspire imagination and creativity. It is supposedly advantageous for writers, artists, and other creative professionals.

Relationships are supposed to be improved by Ruby Manik, which is said to increase love and affection. It is thought to enhance partner communication and comprehension.

Improves Business and Career: Ruby Manik is thought to bring about success.

What is the energy of Ruby Manik?

Ruby Manik is thought to contain powerful energy and metaphysical capabilities that can influence a person's physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being, according to astrological and crystal healing beliefs. The following are some of the energies connected to Ruby Manik:

Ruby Manik is thought to increase the body's energy and vitality levels. It is claimed to enhance blood flow and aid in the renewal of bodily cells.

Ruby Manik is regarded as a stone of love and desire. It is thought to open the heart chakra and heighten emotions of love, adoration, and desire.

Ruby Manik is thought to give its wearer boldness and self-assurance. It can improve the capacity for taking risks and aid in overcoming fear and anxiety.

Does Ruby Manik attract money?

According to astrology, Ruby Manik can help people succeed in their careers and businesses. According to some claims, it enhances decision-making and leadership skills, which can result in financial success. There isn't any concrete proof or empirical evidence that Ruby Manik draws money, though.

It is crucial to remember that achieving financial success depends on a number of variables, including training, experience, hard effort, and wise decision-making. Ruby Manik stones by themselves cannot ensure financial success. It is recommended to address financial issues with a realistic and logical perspective and, if necessary, to seek professional advice.

Furthermore, it is important to choose the right quality and size of the Ruby Manik stone, as well as to wear it in the correct manner, in order to experience its supposed benefits. It is advisable to consult with an experienced astrologer or gemologist before wearing a Ruby Manik stone for astrological purposes.

[heliads]

I was scrolling through Tobias Eaton x Reader and i saw you!

Could I request a fic where four and reader are both trainers. Yn also has a number nickname, two. Her fears are her abusive father and losing Tobias

Just them being a couple, the hardass around the compound and then I feel like Tobias would melt the second the door is closed ❤️

Please but if not, no problem tag me!

no problems at all! also i love it when i am seen

masterlist

It is a very peculiar thing to be in power. In most places, it serves as a slight modifier, something to tip the scales a fraction in your favor during moments of most importance. Small power in small doses can be measured out and used when necessary. Nothing more and nothing less would suit the other factions. 

In Dauntless, however? This place of shadows and blood? To have any small scrap of an advantage is to have the world. Your chosen faction is one that welcomes honor and dishonor both so long as they can send you up in the ranks. If some insignificant bit of power can change the course of your destiny, imagine the results of legitimate might.

Power is bravery here. Everyone in Dauntless knows it, from the first day initiates to the faction leaders. Some people wonder how the higher ups in your faction are able to be so brave, to take the risks that no one else will. I’ll tell you a secret, then, if no one else will:  they don’t have to worry about failing when they know they can’t. 

You get that first rush of power from your first act of bravery and it’s all easy from there on out. The free fall picks you up in its mighty arms and carries you forever. They’re coasting on the bravery of others, up there in the upper echelons of Dauntless capability. They may not be risking their lives on the daily like the regular people of the faction, but they get the credit for it nonetheless.

Only a few people know of this sort of duplicity, however, and among their rank are you and your boyfriend. That’s why you and Four decided not to pursue the status of becoming a faction leader, actually, despite the shock of the rest of the Dauntless populace. It just wasn’t worth it to you. The adrenaline of actually being brave far outweighs the power of knowing you can make anyone else bleed.

Still, in that choice you and Four reclaimed your power. Anyone knows it from seeing the two of you together, in knowing that both of you are fighters in a way that Max or anyone else at the top can never quite become again. You haven’t sold your souls yet, only your fists, and who here isn’t guilty of that?

It still makes you laugh to think of how people reacted when you and Four first got together. In the beginning, it was looked on as something unreal, a trick or a hoax that would end up with you dead and him lightly chastened. The second you started looking at him as something other than a monster, everyone knew that something bad was to come of it.

They were right, technically. The only difference is that it would be bad for them and not you. What you and Four have is extraordinary. In a way, of course your friends and fellow faction members would fear it. If they have nothing of the sort, why would they not do their best to tempt you from it? If you cannot have power of your own, you can gain some back by stripping others of it, and that is precisely what they tried to do with you and Four.

Of course, when you first met Four you had no idea what the two of you would accomplish together. Back then, you were just a first time initiate. You jumped off that roof in Dauntless and landed with someone staring at you, someone who would change your life forever without even knowing it.

Four was a year above you, trying out the title of initiation leader for the first time. Most everyone there was afraid of him despite the miniscule gap in age. You weren’t one of them, which drove your friends crazy. They were absolutely certain that you were going to get yourself reprimanded or killed because you couldn’t seem to act with the proper respect. Even worse, you seemed to like Four, which clearly marked you as insane.

They asked you time and time again what you could possibly see in him, what could ever make Four, follow-without-question Four, be human and not some sort of nightmare. You merely responded that he looked well in your eyes. Everyone with half a brain could see the way Four looked at you and realize that you were well in his eyes as well. It was almost inevitable that the two of you would get together. Whatever would happen to shake Dauntless’ foundation to the core was only a thing of the certain future, speculation be damned.

It made sense, though, the two of you. Not at first, of course. Back then, you were just an initiate and he was all of the mastery and terror that eight months’ earlier birth could give you in Dauntless. Things started changing as your training went by, however, and soon enough people realized that you were just as much something to fear as he was.

After all, Four made waves when he got his nickname. Four fears, it had never been done before. And when you came out of that final test with only two horrors displayed before you? Dauntless reacted like it was the end of days. It seemed impossible that two initiates, back to back nonetheless, could see all the world had to offer and shrink from so little of it. That wasn’t just bravery, that was something else. Something like power.

The end of initiation opened a lot of doors for you, both for your career and your private life. Although both you and Four had known there was something there, he had waited until you graduated initiation to start something. You were soaring through the rankings at a high enough clip that people would be looking to discredit you over everything. He didn’t want the rumors of a connection to the training leader to stop you before you could start.

Soon enough, however, your training did end, and Four found you that night. A few half-drunk conversations later, both of your slates were clean and you decided it was time for the start of something new, something good. 

Four understands you like no other. Perhaps that explains your two fears. Although they’ve been changing ever since the first time you entered your fear landscape, they’ve long since solidified into two distinct omens of malice that haunt your memory every time you slip into a fear simulation.

The first is one from your past, an abusive father. There’s not much you can do about years with that man, the cruelties you had to endure. It explains why you hold no fear for higher-ups in Dauntless, though– you’ve already spent your time with monsters to know that no one here can truly scare you like your father did.

The second is for your present and future, losing Four. It first appeared after the two of you had an argument during initiation, you asking for his heart and him refusing it. That was when he told you that he’d wait until training ended to protect you, but all that came off was that he never wanted to see you again. You went to sleep that night thinking that the first true love you ever had would hate you until the end of time, and when you woke up, your second fear was set in stone.

It would not come to pass, of course, that Four would leave you of his own volition, but yet the fear stays. It changes slightly from trial to trial in the fear landscape. Sometimes he’s sick and dying, other times shot in the heart from an enemy attack, and sometimes just gone, vanished into nothingness with no one able to explain or care about where he went. Each vision haunts you, but none of them can keep you down for long.

After all, why should they? You graduated initiation with flying colors. You have the man you love right by your side. And, when you decided to follow Four’s suit and become a trainer, everyone in Dauntless, both age-old inhabitants and newcomers alike, knew that your collective hold over the future of the faction was something no one could touch. With the two of you leading classes, becoming an initiate was even more terrifying a venture than before. 

In fact, some new trainees could be heard saying that they’d rather incur the wrath of Four instead of you. At least Four had some sort of moral ground, a line to cross that they could see and avoid. You, on the other hand? You were the sort of fear that no one dared touch. To recognize your fury was to accept one’s certain death.

It makes you laugh. You’ve lost count of how many times Four has teased you for it behind closed doors, about how he was supposed to be the scary one and he can’t possibly take it if you’re just as frightening as he is. He doesn’t mean a word of it, of course, and sometimes you think Four would actually be quite content to let you bear the full weight of his fearful reputation, but it does serve to put a smile on your face nonetheless.

That’s the best part of your relationship, you think. Not just the power that comes with your shared status and capability, but what happens when no one is looking. Four loves you, truly he does, and the nights and days you’re able to spend with just him and no one else go down in your memory as some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s just easy, that’s all. Easy and perfect. When the door to your shared apartment closes between the two of you, your masks can drop and the two of you can be happy together, nothing more and nothing less. Four has a handsome laugh that no one else in this entire faction has ever heard, but you’ve listened to its sound more times than you can remember. You keep up this charade of a bloodthirsty fighter every time you’re out in your faction, but when it’s just you and Four, you can be at peace. No warrior could ever ask for something more.

At the end of the day, what you have with Four is good. Perhaps your friends were right to worry about you being so close to Four, but what they failed to consider is that you are just as dangerous as he is. Both of you understand the hardships of having to stay on the edge of a razor the entire day, and how important it is to trust each other once no eyes are on you anymore. You would not trade it for the world, not even for the power that everyone else here seems to crave above all else.

No, you’re happy with Four. Simply put, he is your power, the sort of energy that makes you feel like you could rattle the entire faction to its bones. You could burn this place to the ground and come out standing strong so long as he was there by your side. Maybe that’s why everyone was so terrified about the two of you being together, they knew exactly what you could accomplish if you set your collective minds to the task.

Is that such a bad thing, in the end? To hold the awe and respect of the rest of your fearless faction in the palm of your hand, to grip it like a weapon and use it to draw blood whenever you please? It does not trouble you in the slightest. No words can crease your brow when you have Four there to smooth out the wrinkles, to make you smile when you need it most. There is nothing in this world that could slow your step. Four makes sure of that, and in turn, you make sure it’s true for him as well. No ending has ever been better.

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria

requested by @manyfandomsfanvergent, i hope you enjoy!

[gatheringbones]

["POSSESSION BY THE JUDGE

The King is lawgiver and judge. When we are possessed by the Judge, we experience the self as an object to be judged, and we identify with the Judge and judge others.

The Judge demands obedience, allotting or withholding value according to how we meet imposed standards. In its possession, we are obsessed with questions of good and bad, right and wrong, purity and impurity. The delusion it perpetuates is that we have value when we meet the standards the Judge imposes.

Judgement implies a punishment system. The duty of the self as a subject, like the duty of a law-abiding citizen, is to act so as to avoid being punished. Judgment can imply rewards, but they are generally of lesser importance. Law codes, for example, are not written to spell out "rightdoings" and their rewards, but to list wrong doings and their punishments. For example, from the Babylonian law code of Hammurabi, c. 1800 B.C.E: "If a heirodule, a nun, who is not living in a convent, has opened (the door of) a wineshop, or has entered a wineshop for a drink, they shall burn that woman." Or, from the Bible: "He that smiteth a man, so that he die, shall be surely put to death" (Exod. 21:12).

The weapon of the judge is punishment, inflicted upon the guilty, and the Judge determines our guilt or innocence. To be possessed by the Judge is to be possessed by guilt.

To instill guilt, immanent value must be destroyed. The body becomes a thing to despise. For value is embodied; we feel it in our physical being, in the pleasure inherent in taste and touch and movement in the erotic tides that flood us, in the simple acts that assure survival.

To restore immanent value, we can begin by affirming the body, not denying its needs or desires. Pleasure, humor, laughter, fun, art, sex, food, and beauty are our liberators. Spirit is not seen as separate from matter. When the sacred is embodied, spirituality, the means we use to connect with the sacred, takes us into the body, not away from it. Traditionally, Witches quote the Goddess as saying, "All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals."

Guilt is internalized hate of the self, instilled through fear of punishment. Guilt is the way we punish ourselves. The internalized Judge sustains the power of every coercive institution. Because punishment becomes self-administered, because it is a voice within us telling us we are bad, we are not aware of being externally controlled, and so we are helpless to challenge that control.

Guilt does not encourage us to change, to redress mistakes and act rightly; instead it paralyzes us. When we believe that mistakes are irreparable, we cannot act, for no one can grow without making mistakes. We step aside from the responsibility of taking action.

Freedom from guilt alone, however, does not necessarily mean liberation. It can become simply a license to exploit. Relationships based on exploitation destroy immanent value. If I can feel comfortable living well when someone else suffers, I value that person's life less than mine. But the moment anyone's life is subject to a rating on a scale of worth, we have all been devalued, for either each being has a value inherent to itself, or none do.

Between guilt and exploitation lies responsibility. When we know our own power-from-within, we become enabled to act. Instead of punishing ourselves we can ask the questions that lead to responsible action and constructive change.

JOURNAL MEDTATION ON GUILT

For a day, notice when you feel guilty, and about what. Ask yourself:

Who does this guilt serve?

Is there some real responsibility I need to take?

Is my guilt preventing me from taking action? How? From doing what?

What judgments am I making because of guilt? Are they sound? Unsound?

Think of a time in the past when you felt guilty.

How did you act? What did you do? What choices did you make? What responsibilities did you take? Fail to take? What happened?

If you could do it over again, how would you change what you did?

If guilt is the Judge's first weapon, observation is also part of the arsenal, another way of devaluing the self. A prison is constructed not only to confine its inmates, but to ensure they can be continually watched. Foucault describes a model prison: "Each individual, in his place, is securely confined to a cell from which he is seen from in front by a supervisor; but their side walls prevent them from coming into contact with his companions. He is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication." The most effective surveillance is unverifiable: "The inmate must never know whether he is being looked at at any one moment; but he must be sure that he may always be so."]

starhawk, from truth or dare: encounters with power, authority, and mystery, 1987

[animehouse-moe]

Mobile Suit Gundam - The Witch From Mercury Season 2 Episode 2: Father and Child

It seems that this is the episode where the real Gundam begins. Death and destruction, senseless violence that consumes everything under the guise of politics. There's certainly quite a lot to go through.

Out of the 3 episodes we've gotten in this new season, this one has been the best. I'd still say there's heavy handed pieces that mostly reside with Norea Du Noc and the rest of the characters aboard Astsacassia, but outside of that we're treated to some really great content.

And unironically? In the short amount of time that Guel's been given on screen, he's done more than his share to prove that he's an incredibly well written character. His desire to please his father, the breakdown of his character and ego, and a reset that gives him his direction. He gets very little time, but makes the absolute most use of it possible, and it's on display with this episode

He's a shell of a person, haunted by patricide, unable to even eat when faced with his reality. It doesn't matter that he's a prisoner, nor that he's only worth as much as the Benerit Group makes him out to be. He's consume in sorrow by his actions, which is placed eloquently against a young girl in the compound whose father also died at Plant Quetta.

It strikes a very strong chord in grounding Guel as still a child, and uses this little girl to express the emotions that he's unable to. Alongside that, it's an incredibly important piece about discussing the losers in violence. GWitch has very strongly spoken about that, to where both sides suffer loss that perpetuate the hatred and sorrow that deepens conflict. Here, we get shown it on the individual scale with a twist, which is what allows Guel to relate to the girl. Her father was stolen from her, but Guel took his himself, so he doesn't have hatred for Earthians in the way the girl does Spacians. Rather, Guel finds common ground in the girl's hatred and sorrow.

And that's what spurs him on, that relation to the young girl who lost her father and has nowhere else to reach out to. Through that, Guel's able to rebuild himself. Through guilt, he's able to stand tall. Through love, he's able to find a way to take that step forward. And even through uncertainty and sorrow and depression, he finds a reason to search for that light. This young girl had no one else, she had nowhere to turn to and was left to die. And in that, Guel saw himself. It wasn't pity, and it probably wasn't even a deeper connection. It was fear, desperation that rang out from his soul to try and save the girl that suffered a similar fate to him.

And what does he get for his deeds, his attempt to save someone in this world? More suffering.

It's incredibly powerful and emotional, and rages in the face of war. Olcott has a mobile suit, he had a chance to get her the attention she needed to have a chance to survive. She was still alive. But he chose violence, he chose to sacrifice the girl's chance at life for his own opportunity of killing another. He couldn't live with the choices of his past so he cast away not only his own future, but that of those around him. He perpetuates his existence as a dog of war and violence and furthers the suffering of everyone.

But at the end, he's forced to realize his actions. A Spacian, a prisoner that was to be used as a bargaining chip, is the one that does all he can to save the young girl. He has no obligation, no real reason to do it, but he does so over the man that could have. And even at the end of it all, that prisoner refuses to let go of his past. He holds grief and love within the same hand, forcing himself to feel that pain so that he can still remember.

And that's about it from a story perspective. I think Norea is still too heavy-handed for my liking, but I can admit she at the very least gets the point across. Nika is great by comparison though, she just feels a little awkward aside Norea's performance. In the same breath, the few cuts we get of Shaddiq conversing with his father are pretty solid, but neglect the sort of childlike naivety that I think is important in pieces like that. In opposition to his father you get that he doesn't have the full or perfect picture, but Shaddiq himself is void of any arrogance or certainty that could drive such confidence and certainty in actions that serve to only tear things further apart. Maybe it's his aloof personality that doesn't allow those pieces through, but I feel like more could be done to shake his foundations a bit more than what they're at currently.

Now, world stuff? I appreciate the details that went in to the combat and work. The Benerit Groups security forces are well formed and thought out. There's several different types of mobile suits, and their space to ground descent concept is solid as well. Using a high powered glider to conserve energy and hasten transit is a solid idea in Earth gravity. In opposition though is the Earthians mobile suits. All the same design and with standard hardware, they're not kitted out for this specific type of conflict or anything like that, nor do they have a very strong commander or experience as a unit.

What I really love though is the differences we're given. The Earthians exclusively use bullet based weapons while the Spacians are able to use a bevvy of weapon types to overpower their enemies. It showcases the power structure between the two groups very well, forcing the Earthians into inferior and outdated mobile suits when up against the expensive and cutting edge ones of the Spacians.

So following that, the combat? Yeah, it's got its "hype" moments and pieces that stretch the truth, but overall it's incredibly well laid out. The Earthians focus on Guerilla tactics while the Spacians operate in a tight formation on a battle plan. Decapitate the HQ and take up high ground positions to target the Earthians. Knowing they have inferior equipment, the Earthians are forced into a maneuver battle centered around their preparation at the factory. It's a rather textbook approach, if not for the excessiveness of the Earthians.

Do I discount the combat because of them? No, but I will say it's silly. Why would someone ever sacrifice a mobile suit for a Himars? It's the dumbest trade possible in the situation, and I really don't believe that "camaraderie" is what allowed it to take place, especially when the man that jumped in front of it had a family. To me, 100% an intentional writing decision to elicit an emotional response from viewers.

At the end of it all, we're "in the Endgame now". The school setting has been shattered, influence reaches out to the ends of space and time as the threat of a Permet God looms and warfare breaks out between Earthians and Spacians. Everybody's a target, nobody's safe, and we still haven't seen Miorine and Suletta together in this second season. I still believe that the first two episodes rushed, but they rushed to get to a good spot so I'm not terribly concerned about it. Now that we're here though, I hope we get to spend a lot of time with it, there's a world of things to explore given what the first season teed up, and I want to hope that all of it gets executed upon. So yeah, now this is really a Gundam show.

[acorrespondence]

I was just thinking about how much I love Boyd in your Boyd/Raylan kid fic, and sorry this is such a vague question lol but I'd love if you had any like bonus Boyd backstory or details that you'd want to talk about in that universe, or like just any info on how this version of Boyd and the like perfect imo characterization of how he would be as a dad and a partner came to you!

Oh no this is a great question! Well, great for me because I love to talk about this stuff, maybe not so great for you since this answer is about to be real long and rambly haha. Ultimately though I think it comes down to the fact that, at his core, Boyd is a lot less like his father or even Arlo, and a lot more like Mags Bennett. I think on the surface level, they’re actually quite different—Mags has her matronly, pillar-of-the-community persona, and her ruthless pragmatism is tucked away underneath that, but it bubbles up to the surface sometimes. Boyd, on the other hand, inhabits his personas much more fully, and cycles through a lot more of them. I think probably the biggest difference between them is that Boyd really doesn’t seem to believe in violence as a form of control, at least not for those in his employ. Killing Devil and Dewey isn’t a way to control them, it’s just a solution to the problem their presence presents. Even when he gets violent with Ava in the last season, he’s not using it to influence her behavior, it’s just more of a controlled version of a child’s tantrum—you hurt me, so now I’m gonna hurt you.

At their cores, however, Boyd and Mags are both motivated by the same thing: the idea of legacy. I think many people often mistake this in Boyd as a survival instinct, and I sort of agree, in the way that legacy and lasting impact past death are our way to blunt the innate human fear of mortality—death may be inevitable, but our works and stories can continue on. Except I think saying he’s “just trying to survive” throughout the show kind of neuters his character a bit. Because one of the things that makes him so interesting is that everyone else around him is just trying to survive, and he’s not. He wants more than that, and makes other people believe that he can get it, not just for himself but for them too. It’s why he can rally people around him so easily.

In fact, he routinely does things that he does not *need* to do, that put his life directly in jeopardy, in favor of making a name for himself and trying to improve his position in life. And in so doing, he and Mags fall into the same trap: this idea that legacy is achieved only when you beat the game. All the suffering will be worth it when you reach that light at the end of the tunnel. Mags hurts her children over and over again, both directly and indirectly, all in the name of securing her legacy, *for them*, and in the end it takes Doyle dying and losing Loretta and getting the thing she thought she wanted for her to look back and realize: *that* was her legacy. Nothing good was ever going to come out of any of it. Every action she took in the name of securing her legacy was actually destroying it, was moving her further away from the thing she thought she was working toward. All that suffering in the name of legacy? That *is* her legacy. That’s what she’s leaving behind. Ava saw it clearly, even if none of the rest of them did: it’s all just people making choices, all down the line.

I honestly think characterizing Boyd as being motivated solely by survival throughout the series is a bit of a disservice to his character development as well, because I think his whole arc in the show is leading up to his realization, in the finale, that his life is actually more important to him than his symbolic life after death—whether that symbolic survival is secured by religious means, by his epic Bonnie and Clyde-style love story with Ava, or by his adherence to Raylan’s own personal mythos that places them in opposition on a time-tested scale. These are all just the natural replacements for his astronaut goals and later his goals in going off to war—the theater for his exploits grows smaller and smaller as he fails to make a name for himself outside Harlan. Ava even came right out and said it: in Lexington she’s anonymous, no one knows her name or marital status or anything about her. If anyone’s going to remember Boyd, it’s gonna be Harlan (though several times throughout the series he gets designs on something bigger, it never pans out). In the end, though—and in contrast to Mags, who couldn’t see past the crumbling of everything she’d thought she was building—Boyd makes the decision to put life over legacy.

On the surface, his situation in season 2 might *seem* like it should have done the job of disillusioning him about legacies already, but that was more of a symbolic suicide, Boyd resigning himself to the fact that he was doomed to have no legacy and thus making *no* choices. He didn’t deny his previous legacy; it was taken from him by his father. He doesn’t even get the legacy of having killed his father, or of having killed the woman who killed his father. And following that, other people make his choices for him: Kyle with the mine robbery, Ava with their relationship. But he’s *not actually dead,* and his commitment to not making choices is a choice in itself. He’s absolutely capable of fighting back against the desires and machinations of those around him, but he just—doesn’t. And in the end, both of these non-decision decisions in their own way present him with a new legacy, which he immediately latches onto as soon as that light comes back on at the far end of his tunnel. If he’d made the realization that his life is more important than his legacy, he wouldn’t have needed this symbolic revival, because *he was never dead.*

For the purposes of my fic, the inciting incident that caused the canon divergence had to be a latter such event, to my mind—Boyd losing his way—because otherwise he’s just going to stagnate in Harlan and stay in his neo-Nazi persona long enough to get calcified in it like Mags, or until something shakes up the game board, like Raylan’s arrival. But it wasn’t enough just to give him a kid, because all he’d care about was the legacy he’s securing for that kid. So I had to figure out how to make Bo do the equivalent of killing all his followers in the woods. So: the kid’s mama runs off, Ava leaves Bowman to try and make a life on her own in Corbin, Boyd’s really low on child care options and figures Bo’s a better bet than Bowman. Only it turns out that’s kind of a rock and a hard place situation (we know from season 6 where Bowman learned his wifebeating ways, and Bo definitely strikes me as the “small children and animals don’t understand any kind of discipline but physical” kind of guy, whereas Boyd as I’ve said doesn’t really believe in control through violence, likely because it never really worked on him).

Enter: Boyd going to Raylan hoping he’ll give him purpose, just like he did in canon after the equivalent event. Only this time, Raylan offers him more than just the potential for retribution against his father. He offers pretty much the same thing Ava did, for the low low price of papering over the past. So Boyd basically teaches himself architecture—few other legacies last longer than buildings, and if you make enough then at least a few of them are bound to stick around a while—and invests in a series of failed startups until he’s hit, quite suddenly, with a Mags Bennett-style reality check as detailed in chapter 5, forcing him to confront the legacy he’s already created and the fact that it’s absolute shit. Luckily for him, unlike Mags, it happened before anyone died, and he had a chance to course-correct. Fast-forward to now, where Boyd is *trying* to make choices that actually bear out his goals, but maybe still puts a little too much stock in legacy, since he hasn’t yet reached that final step of enlightenment that he hits in the finale when he refuses to pull on Raylan.

[cellard0ors]

For over the last thirty years, Laura has lived in captivity.

Trapped in a glass tank full of water from Lake Septimus, she was shuttled all around from town to town, no one's company to keep save her own.

At first.

But eventually she struck up a kinship with another fellow captive, Silas. Or Silas the dog boy, as Vorez called him.

Eliza Vorez. Their 'mother'. Their owner would be more accurate.

However, she found Silas long before Laura and at least treated him with some semblance of decency. Not much, considering she still expected him to perform at showtime, but he at least got kind words and a gentle attitude.

Laura got the exact opposite. She can only assume it's because, at some point, Vorez thought she would break her. Make her docile and meek. Subservient.

She chose the wrong Mer for that.

It didn't help that Silas was younger and kept so through a perpetual age retention spell - one that kept him trapped at thirteen.

Laura was allowed to go through her First Embarkment and gifted two years after before Vorez struck her with the same spell, coming to the conclusion that it served a two fold purpose. One it kept her attraction young and beautiful. Two, as a punishment.

...Laura wasn't even allowed to naturally age alongside her lost love.

Her lost love - Travis Hackett - the starry-eyed sweet boy who kept her going. The one she grew up with, played with - the one she sacrificed everything for, because she loved him.

She loved him and thinking of him - alive and safe and out in the world, was her only respite from the life she was enduring - not living - enduring.

And now here he is, sneering at her and the only way she can think of to cope with it is to turn it to anger, "Or else what? You'll shoot me? Go ahead. I'm not telling you where my brother is."

"Your brother?" He scoffs and he gets to his feet, peering down at her with disdain, "Well, your 'brother' is responsible for the curse on my family and I'll be damned if I let it continue when I finally have a chance to end this thing!"

"And what do you think I'm here for? The sights?" Laura snaps at him and she does her best to shift around. Her jeans are wildly uncomfortable, her scales having returned and her legs wanting to rejoin to form her tail.

That's not even to mention her patch covered eye socket, which feels like it's bubbling and fizzing, the lake water on her skin, but not where she needs it to heal.

This in mind, she tosses off the patch and while she can hear the sheriff make a sound of disgust at the sight, she ignores him, scooping up handful after handful to splash on her face.

Sure enough, the cool water seeps in and she lets out a sound of sweet relief. There's a slight bit of discomfort as her lost eye returns, but it's worth it once she blinks and realizes her depth perception has returned.

Travis sees her eye is back and gapes at her, "What the hell are you?"

"You said it yourself." she grumbles, "I'm the fish girl..."

"So...a mermaid?"

"We prefer the term Mers." She sighs, "Gender more a human convention..."

"But you said-?!"

"I identify as a girl." Laura explains, "That's my choice."

"Okay..." He says it lightly, in that way where it's clear he's trying to understand and doesn't. It's funny, because it's the exact same response and tone he used when he was ten and asked the exact same thing.

Looking at him now, she can still see bits and pieces of that little boy. She can also see the parts of him she fell in love with during their teens. But he's also different. He looks...tired. Worn. Sad and the sadness kills her, makes her ache, so she speaks to distract herself, "This lake is my home. I was born in its' waters, so they can heal me from pretty much anything."

"Like a lost eye?" He offers and he's managed to fish out the patch she's been using since the last full moon.

Laura eyes it with distaste, "It was an accident. Normally I can be around Silas without fear - my blood is made of these clear waters, so, he tends to avoid me once he's changed, but," she shrugs, "I pushed."

"It shuns clear water..." Travis mummers and she just nods, because clearly he knows more about Silas's condition than she thought. What he knows about her, thanks to her singing, is zip, so she holds up her arms, "If you could, ah - pick me up?"

His expression is cold, stone faced, but she ignores the sting it causes - again, he doesn't know her. Not anymore, "Look, you saw my scales. The water in the lake can turn me back into my natural form. When I'm dry, I have legs just like any other human, so-?"

Travis looks out over the lake and then back at her, his tone full of doubt, "You were down here by the water."

"Yeah, to fix my eye! Not swim away! I would have gotten some water, healed myself, and then been on my way if you hadn't come stomping through!"

"I wasn't-?!"

"Just pick me up, Officer Dick Whippet!"

His jaw sets and he looks furious, but he does as asked. He scoops her up and makes a big show of acting like she's heavy even though she knows that he can more than handle her weight.

...in fact, his arms have gotten very...muscular since last she saw him. Laura can feel the corded strength of them through his police uniform. Swallowing, she feels her face heat and thanks the darkness for covering her blush as he carefully sets her far from the lake.

As she begins to dry, he begins to interrogate, "You say you weren't planning on swimming away, but you refuse to lead me to Silas."

"Uh, yeah. Because you'll probably just kill him." Her tone tells him that he's stupid for thinking she's dumb enough to have thought otherwise.

He sighs and runs his hands over his face, "Look, I don't want to kill the kid. Okay? I just-? I want this nightmare to be over."

Silence settles between them for a moment while Laura patiently waits for him to continue. He does, "When my niece, Kaylee, and my nephew, Caleb, busted your 'brother' out of his cell, he bit one of them. Turned them into a werewolf and they passed it on. So now I've got three infected family members and for the last six years, we've been dealing with all kinds of hell."

"Silas is my brother. You can stop air quoting it." Laura hisses, "You have no idea what he and I went through. No idea. We're bonded by something more than blood and what your family has suffered is nothing more than an eye blink in comparison to the amount of time he and I were trapped with Vorez!"

"Okay, okay, but if that's the case, then why did you two run?!" Travis cries, "When Kaylee and Caleb freed you, you could have-!"

"Could have what?!" Laura interrupts with a bark of laughter, "Gone to you and your family? Yeah, right."

She shakes her head ruefully, "There's only one Hackett I trust, and he didn't show up that night."

Once the words leave her mouth, she realizes the mistake she made. It was said in the heat of the moment and her eyes widen at the ramifications of what she just admitted.

Travis, for his part, seems - thankfully - confused, "The only-? Which Hackett? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Nothing." She waves her hands, "Let's just-? Just drop it."

She wishes her legs were dry enough that she could stand. If life were perfect, if it was as well timed as music or a scene in a film, they would be. But this is real life, so it leaves her in this well of awkwardness as the minutes pass and Travis, obviously, works over what she said.

And while he might have been confused initially, it doesn't take him long to figure it out. No, of course not. He's the sheriff for a reason. He's capable of solving a puzzle when need be and his eyebrows rise, face a mask of shock as he says, "Wait...that night..."

Laura gulps.

"The night of Harum Scarum...the tickets were addressed to me."

She feels her bottom lip tremble, feels herself looking away from him, eyes heating with unshed tears as he rises to tower over her and growls, "You sent the tickets to me. Why?"

She starts shaking her head and he reaches down and grabs her arms, shakes her roughly, "Why? Who in the hell are you?!"

"I'm-? I told you. I'm nobody. Just some fish girl, just some-!"

"Oh, don't give me that horseshit! You sent me the tickets! You're responsible for all of this! Who ARE you?!"

"Laura!" she cries out sharply, "Alright?! My name..."

She sucks in a shaky breath, "My name is Laura..."