#and thus he remained faithful for at least a year

[messymoonmad]

Poseidon : how bad can it possibly be ?

5 min later...

( @makotafi 's idea to project my period to poseidon cause i was dying yesterday)

Amphitrite : HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE HELPLESS ??? HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW PAIN ??

Zeus and hera version here !!!

[occamstfs]

Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.  

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym. 

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing. 

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?” 

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change. 

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion. 

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw. 

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene. 

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?” 

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department. 

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed. 

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead,  much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him. 

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm. 

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office. 

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside. 

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition. 

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven. 

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss. 

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy. 

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions. 

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.

[huicitawrites]

The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O' Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

T/W: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spiderverse.

Status: rewritten.

Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,4k

"Y/N! Get. Back. Here. NOW", swinging away from an infuriated Miguel O'Hara wasn't something you had planned or ever thought would occur, never entertained the thought of it. At least not until now, as you desperately attempted to get away from him and somehow escape him- for your dimension-travel watch (as wild as the concept of it sounded) had been snatched by the same man that was madly hunting you down.

How did it even all come to this? Let's rewind, back to the beginning.

Part I

After being bitten by a radioactive spider in a school trip to Alchemax at the young age of 15, you obtained enhanced spider-like abilities: a sixth sense for perceiving danger, incredible reflexes, amazing parkour skills, extraordinary strentgh and flexibility.

And for the past ten years, you have been New York's one and only Spider-Woman.

Learning to use your powers was a whole trip on itself. They awakened rather clumsily -nothing a leap of faith could not fix- as you began to grasp the ropes of being a masked hero in your teenage years [it's safe to say that your teenage years were truly a heck of a rollercoaster].

Handling a double-life was not easy, that is something you have learned with your ten years experience. You saved a bunch of people and thus many lives, you won many times and saved the city countless more. Yet you also earned a bunch of dangerous criminals and villains tailing behind your back that would want to kill you without hesitation and harm you in any way possible.

In spite of the times you were beaten down, left made a mess in the ground, or at the brink of death- you would always get back up because you were Spider-Woman.

Sometimes, getting back up was hard.

The weight of the sake of the city was on your shoulders. And sometimes, that weight crushed you. When you lost your parents it was devastating, because not only had you failed as a hero, but as a daughter.

[Your dad perished in an attempt to save you from an attack of one of many enemies- the Green Goblin . You two happened to be on a ‘father and daughter’ outing in a nice dinner when the Green Goblin tried to draw out Spider-Woman from her hiding place in Brooklyn (unbeknownst of your true identity and much to your own misery and guilt.) After battling the Green Goblin and imprisoning him, you rose with your dead father in your arms, and an huge crack in your heart that would leave a deep scar.

Months later, your mother's followed suit. That day was chaotic, panic filled the streets of New York as The Rhino, a veteran soldier with super human strentgh and a high-techno advanced armor resembling a rhinoceros, laid waste to the city. You were evacuating all civilians nearby, swinging across and into buildings, picking up and scooping anyone you could encounter and putting them out of danger.

It happened as you held falling debris with your arms. You picked up wailing in between the many cries of people, and your spider-sense guided your eyes up from the ground.

A child, no older than five, was crying. He was glued to the floor, too overwhelmed by the calamity surrounding him. A wall from a building was falling on him and your heart beat raced. You still had people below you that were crawling out and the child was a or two block away. Your thoughts raced in your head, you had to save everyone, down to the last live.

"Come on, come on, come on" you muttered in between gritted teeth as you gathered power and lifted the debris into the air. With the help of your web shooter, you pulled all the remaining civilians out and casted aside the courtesy of double-checking as you swinged toward the child.

You could see how the wall fell over him, and you reached out your arm with your forearm out desperately, attempted to pull him out with your web but the wall was already about to touch his head and-

She pushed the child out of the danger, motherly instincts impulsing her feet at the cost of her own life. The child was pushed onto you and you brought him flush against you with your web, arms encasing him as you witnessed the wall collapse on her.

In shock and disbelief, you gently lowered the child to the ground and ran to the fallen wall. Once again in despair, you clawed through the debris and searched for your mother’s body.

You found her bruised and crushed, her face deformed. You brushed the dust off it. Her pained groan was faint, and you begged her right there and then not to leave you. Not to leave you alone, again.

“Is the kid al…?”

“Yes! Don’t, don’t talk. Help, help is coming. You have to stay, you have to.” But her eyes were already fading, and her limbs growing weak. Your disguised hand snatched up hers and you cried,

“Mom!”

She recognized your voice, the one she cherished the most. Her fading eyes gathered all the warmth they could muster and she reached out a quivering hand to your cheek. Her fingers slid into your mask, and she felt your tear stained skin.

“Ah my baby…[Y/n]…I’m so proud... Your father would be so proud... keep it up”. Her last words were voiced with strain, but you would always remember them.]

They became the fuel for your mission, and no matter how many times you were beaten to the ground and wounded to no end, you stood back up. You would save everyone else, no more deaths, you swore upon your parents' last moments.

Now in your adult life, you found yourself in a stable life besides the implications your side hustle not-so-side -hustle brought. You had an adequate job as a writer for small titles in a decent newspaper, and you had a department you shared with your childhood best friend, Peter Parker [who eventually became your tech-desk guy. Hiding your true identity from your best friend and roommate would have never lasted long anyway. You remember clearly the day you climbed into the living's window, beat up, bruised and tired, when the lights suddenly turned on and a Peter with crossed arms and an eyebrow raised was waiting for you like a parent whose child was past curfew. You were without your mask on. Nonetheless, after stuttering uncontrollably and failing to explain and just simply breaking down in front of him. Without saying any words, he took out the first aid kit and reassured you with a smile. You were so grateful to him.]

So now here you were, crouching on the top of The Clock Tower, the moonlight casting its light on your back and darkening your silhouette. Earlier in the day you dealt with some thugs and minor crimes, but since the sun fell nothing happened. That was odd, NYC was never quite, least of all times at night.

But your spider-sense was running, not rampant, but definetely there like annoying itch on the nape. Something had to be off, you knew it.

"Um, I'm not picking up anything, (Y/n). Maybe you should be calling it a night, you've been doing good work so far. You did lower the crime rate, after all."

"You sure Pete? There's this feeling in my gut and-"

"Your 'spidey- thingy' ?".

"Spider-sense, spidey-thingy sounds dumb" you answered with a small groan, rolling your eyes although he could not see the.

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he turned serious " but I'm not getting anything from anywhere. From police radios and stations to our own hidden cameras"

"Nothing? Sure?"

"I mean everything is awfully quiet now that I think about it... All I can pick up is glitching, let's see... let me do my thing and-" you could hear frantic typing through the comms of your suit within the mask, you could even picture Peter hunching and fixing his eyeglasses.

What he said left you pondering. Glitching? It couldn't be a coincidence that all the radio signals he could pick up were glitching.

"Aha! Here it is, your spidey-thingy was right." this time, you chuckled as if saying 'see?'. He continued, "-this should be a very hidden signal from the special forces team. Seems classified, man they should really put a little more money into whatever software they use to protect their privacy" and he pushed on one final 'enter', the glitching and static got louder almost startling you to which your friend apologized softly, but it evened out.

"Report the situation, Lieutenant Stacy"

"Requesting back-up right now, suspect is armed with advanced equipment, we are at the Port, South East, many of my men and women have been wounded and- oh, shit, shit" The man's words died down with the sound of something big crashing and breaking.

Well, that's your cue. You stood up on your toes and balanced you body weight forward, diving to the ground. With your limbs extended, you stretched your forearm and extended your wrist, web shooting out from the slick web shooter Peter designed.

Swinging from building to building under the night sky, you jumped across billboards and slid past tight spaces as you were heading to the location of the conflict, and the closer you swinged, the wilder your spider sense got.

When you arrived at the port, you saw a SWAT truck that was flipped over, it had a huge dent in the form of a what seemed to be a claw mark, and the windows had been broken. There were a few members on the floor, and you noticed there were two trying to lift the heavy vehicle.

"Let me help," you announced your presence and they whipped their heads. Their faces were glistening with sweat and dirt, and you could notice their equipment was damaged. You crouched and lifted the truck, there was one member there below, and his leg was twisted the other way, but he was breathing- well, panting.

Without further a do, the soldiers went and dragged out their friend. A soldier's face lit up, though they seemed hesitant [after all, your line of work was kind of controversial among the government and its forces] but they were thankful. "Thank you, Spider-Woman", their voice was genuine and you smiled below the mask.

"Your welcome, leave it to me" winking at them through your lense, you nodded and propelled yourself to the ceiling of the warehouse. You noticed a roof canopy at the center, lucky you, and brought the palm of your hand to it. Utilizing your sticky finger pads, you carefully removed a pane of glass and entered the building without making a sound.

"Be careful, please" Peter voiced with worry.

You hanged the web from it's strongest point at the peak, and slowly lowered yourself down until your hand gently brushed the cold floor . You got off the web and crawled in direction of the tingling of the spider-sense. You found some warehouse crates, pressed your back onto them, slowly leaning your head out to take a peak.

A man stood there, a middle aged man by the looks of him. He had a round pair of black sunglasses on and a large leather coat on, but the most outstanding feature was apparently behind him. Four metal tentacle-like arms sprouting from his back, with threatening looking claws. That had to be the thing that put such a dent in a SWAT vehicle, the advanced equipment you heard of in the interception.

He was ranting about something, speaking to himself. "The power of the sun at the palm of my hand, only to be ruined by that fucking-"

‘What is this man even talking about…’

His words died down in your ears as it took a few seconds for your spider-sense to peak, and you scrunched your face features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted, cheeks squeezing up and causing the lenses of the mask to stretch and flatten.

"(Y/n)? Found anything yet?" Peter inquired.

"This man... I think I know him... but also not..." At this point, your spider-sense was rampant. Your gaze still confused as you tried to decipher him. Your spider sense was alerting you of this oddly familiar feeling. It was someone you had dealt with before, but also someone new. Simply off-putting.

Then the realization fell on you, his tentacle-like arms.

"Is that Doc Ock!?" Without getting a hold of your reaction, you accidentally raised your voice and revealed your location. Your spider-sense tingled again, this time, sensing imminent danger as you backflipped and dodged the incoming attack. The crate you were hiding behind of was broken into splinters.

"Come on out, Spider-Man!" he shouted, his voice in pure anger.

Spider-Man? As long as you remember, you never referred to your disguised self as Spider-Man...

"It's Spider-Woman, mind you" You revealed yourself off the shadows, and the light basked in your costume, revealing its signature colors and design. "Do I know you by chance?" you tited your head, inquisitive in your tone as you were trying to figure things out.

The man's expression fell, and his rage was replaced by annoyance.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Spider-Man? Have you forgotten the name of the man whose work of life you ruined, Otto Octavius." His tongue rolled of his name with spite and you widened your eyes.

"Doc Ock? But, you are different. You are totally human". Last time you checked, Doc Ock was a mad scientist that turned himself half-octopus by bioengineering his genetics in the name of some sort of sick evolution idea. He had tried to turn the city into mutants like himself for 'the sake of humanity's future' and you managed to stop his plans. Furthermore, he had been sent to a high-security prison for villains, where an anti-serum is being developed to turn him back and halt his aggression.

"Are you pulling my leg Spider-Man?" He said with disbelief, and he began to appear more and more angry by the second. He muttered something below his breath, and you swore you saw one of his tentacles turn toward his face as if it were sentient and listening...

"I've told you it's Spider-Woman." You huffed out, chest puffing out. You had a bad feeling about this...

The man's hand ran down his own face and he groaned, visibly tired. "Well, whatever, but you do appear to be an ally of Peter Parker's, your costume and your name leave little room for further speculation". The mention of your friend raised up your guard, how did he know Pete? Any doubts and hesitation erased themselves of your mind, for your friend could be in lethal danger.

"Oh? What's the matter, 'Spider-Woman'," he sneered.

"Picked right on the web, hmm?" He edged on, a dangerous smirk dancing on his face and two claws raising up in the air, ready to pounce.

There was not much to it, as you jumped sideways to dodge whatever that clawed-tentacle-armor was. You found yourself right back at the gig, fighting a villain as the one and only Spider-Woman.

Or so you thought.

A/n: Hi! So when I first saw this fictional man I KNEW I had to write about him, originally, it was going to be a long one shot, but I decided to break it into parts. I expect this story to be up to 3 parts or 4 as most. Anyhow, I hope you come to like it!, and sorry for the long- ass intro, I really wanted to dwelve deeper into reader as a spider person. Next is the real thing. I have seen some people have asked me to tag them, so don’t be shy to ask too!

[sansaorgana]

— FOREVER BOUND

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — You and Mairon were created together by Eru and ever since you remained nearly inseparable. He chose to follow Melkor but you stayed loyal to your gods. Even though he was believed to be slain, you meet your soulmate once again many years later in Númenor where you serve the Valar by helping Tar-Míriel with your counsel.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I started writing this fic like two weeks ago but I got distracted in the meantime with different ideas 🤧 (Y/N) is used here as the Reader's "real" name, therefore I gave her human form in Númenor a name and that is Maneth, which apparently means Departed Spirit. The dynamic between Sauron and the Reader is lowkey inspired by that quote from Wuthering Heights – He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Also, I was very fixated on making the short prologue of this fic sound like it was taken from The Silmarillion but it was a challenge, especially when English is not my first language, so yeah, I have to admit I used "the chat" a bit to help me in the beginning (and only there) 🙈. It didn't write even a single sentence for me, though, it only helped me with reshaping the phrases to sound more like the way I wanted them to be. I have never used AI to help me write my fics, so I feel a bit weird with it but I think the prologue sounds great now, so I decided to keep it this way. However, I wanted to admit to it here because I would feel bad otherwise. Once more – "the chat" did not write even a single sentence for me. I only needed its help with finding better sounding phrases to express what I have already written all by myself and it was only for the short prologue of the story. I didn't put any warnings but I think that – if you squint – it can have a bit of a twincest vibe...? 😳 At least I thought so while writing some scenes but maybe it's just my messed up mind going into such places 🙈 The fic is quite long but I didn't want to divide this one into two parts.

WORD COUNT — 7,930

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FOREVER BOUND

Together were they fashioned by the thought of Eru Ilúvatar, Mairon and (Y/N), kindred spirits among the Maiar, and thus were their fates entwined. Mairon was drawn to Aulë the Smith, whose lore of crafting and forging he learned with eager mind, while (Y/N) was taken under the care of Varda Elentári, the Queen of Stars, and to her was revealed the mysteries of light and the heavens.

In those days of ancient bliss, when the first flowers were made to bloom, Mairon would gather their blossoms for (Y/N), and together they would abide for hours in fields unmarred by shadow. Often, he would craft jewels of wondrous beauty, offering them to her in token of his affection. Yet his most treasured gift to her was a ring, fair and unmarred, crafted in the purity of his early days, before his spirit turned to darker counsel.

It is said that (Y/N) wore that ring ever upon her hand, and that when Varda revealed to her the art of setting stars in the firmament, she bestowed the first star of her own making with the name «Mairon», that his light might endure forever.

In the later days, when Mairon fell to the shadow and allied himself with Melkor, he sought ever to draw (Y/N) to his side, weaving words of guile and repentance. Many times did he deceive her, and she, moved by their bond, hoped he might yet be redeemed. Yet she held fast to the Valar, and her faith remained unbroken.

Mairon's descent brought sorrow unending to (Y/N), and often she pleaded with the Valar to grant him mercy. Yet Varda would have her no longer as a disciple, for the brightness of her spirit had dimmed, and her heart clung still to one who had been corrupted. Then Nienna, She Who Weeps, took pity upon (Y/N) and took her into her care, teaching her of endurance and grief. And it was Nienna who spoke in favour of Mairon when Melkor, feigning humility, sought pardon from the Valar, for she understood well the love that bound (Y/N) to him.

Yet no reunion came to pass, for Mairon fled from the wrath of the Valar, and he vanished into the shadows of the world, so that some claimed him slain. The star that bore his name faded from the heavens, and it is told that (Y/N) wept until her tears filled a lake in The Southlands, and thus was the dark and bitter Lake Núrnen brought into being, a testament to her sorrow.

You were sent to Númenor to aid the Queen Regent with your counsel. Míriel suspected that you were no ordinary human being but she knew better than to ask too many questions. Very quickly you were promoted in her council, which was visibly making Ar-Pharazôn uneasy and suspicious of you because you had shown up out of nowhere one day, posing to be a noble Lady from Middle-earth… but who truly knew where you were coming from? 

The fate of this beautiful island given to the ancestors of these people was uncertain, though. It was teetering between glory and ruin. You were there to make sure they would choose the right path when the time of difficult decisions would come.

When you heard that one of the captains brought a She-Elf to Númenor that he had found in an open sea, you knew immediately that it was no coincidence. It was surely the very beginning of something new. Something exciting and worrying, too.

The time you had already spent in Númenor was enough for you to fall in love with the island and its people. The Queen Regent was truly your friend and you hoped for nothing else but for this realm’s happiness.

You were standing next to Míriel when Captain Elendil walked two castaways inside the hall. She-Elf you recognised immediately because it was Lady Galadriel. She, however, could not recognise you because of your disguise. At the sight of a dirty, ragged common man walking beside her, you felt an odd shiver going down your spine.

You looked down, nervously, when he looked up to meet your gaze. Your fingers busied themselves with a ring that decorated your finger for long centuries now – it would never leave you, no matter what form you were in.

You could not understand why some random human was making you feel such odd sensations as if the air between you two vibrated and caused disruption inside the room.

“No one kneels in Númenor,” the Queen Regent announced to Lady Galadriel and her new friend when they attempted to do so.

Out of curiosity that you seemed not to be able to stop, you looked up again when the man did the same. Your eyes met and you could barely contain yourself because the soul trapped inside the form you were in was about to explode.

He was no ordinary human being and you wondered if Lady Galadriel knew about it.

Who could it be, though? The Valar would not send any help for you here without warning you beforehand. Even if they would, no other Maia was able to make you feel this extraordinary way. 

No other Maia except for one.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

“Speak, Elf. Name thyself,” Míriel ordered Lady Galadriel and Galadriel’s eyes found yours. She tilted her head but decided not to comment although now you were certain that she could sense what kind of spirit you were.

“Galadriel of the Noldor,” she introduced herself. “Daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-Galad.”

The man she came with looked at her with furrowed brows before deciding to introduce himself as well.

“Halbrand,” he said. “Of The Southlands,” he added.

“A man and an Elf, together?” You asked as you approached the Queen Regent.

“Circumstances arose that–” The man named Halbrand began but Galadriel did not allow him to finish.

“We are companions by chance. Met on the open sea. Your captain here, delivered us from certain death,” she looked at Elendil. “All we ask is that Númenor continue his mercy and grant us ship’s passage to Middle-earth.”

The crowd gathered inside the hall began to chatter between each other. It was uncommon to see an Elf in Númenor these days and Galadriel was far from humble. Her demands were not making anyone here happy and you could sense that.

The only man whose aura you could not sense was him again – the filthy commoner.

Míriel exchanged a meaningful look with Ar-Pharazôn before her cousin spoke.

“It’s been generations since a ship of Númenor was permitted to make such a journey on an Elf’s behalf,” he told the Elf, harshly.

You wondered how Galadriel would accept the fact that here, in Númenor, she was not an authority to anyone and her presence was barely intimidating. You knew her heart was of a pure kind but it was no mystery amongst the Valar, the Maiar and the Elves that she also needed to be humbled very often but such occasions were quite rare.

“It is because of the Elves that you were given this island,” she reminded but such words only worsened her situation. “Surely you can spare a few planks and a rudder.”

Míriel looked behind to stare at your face, visibly searching for your counsel. You shook your head slightly to let her know that you did not think following Galadriel’s orders was a good idea. It did not escape Ar-Pharazôn’s eye as he shot you a deadly glance. He hated the influence you had over his cousin.

“Our ancestors were not given anything,” the Queen Regent smiled softly at Galadriel as she walked down the stairs to approach the Elf and her human companion. “They paid for this isle with the blood of their kin.”

“What the Elf means–” Halbrand tried to save the situation.

“Then if blood be the price of passage, I will pay it,” Galadriel interrupted him again and you sighed softly. “But one way or another, I will depart.”

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

“I have no need of your welcome,” Galadriel continued with her rude remarks and Halbrand looked at her with panic in his eyes before looking back at the guards by the doors.

“And you are quickly wearing out yours,” the Queen Regent warned Galadriel. “Guards,” she called for them.

“My friends!” Halbrand exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention and you despised it.

You despised it because your weak human form struggled once more to contain your trembling spirit. You were scared that you would be this island’s doom yourself any given moment if you suddenly erupted as if you were a volcano. Your fingers began to tremble and you lowered your gaze, pretending to be humble.

“It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications,” Halbrand pointed out. “Perhaps it’d be better if we stayed–”

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

“Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request,” he looked up at you.

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

“A few days, perhaps?” Halbrand looked back at Míriel and you sighed out of relief once you got free from his burning gaze.

The Queen Regent looked back at you once more and you looked up only slightly to nod at her. Ar-Pharazôn rolled his eyes but he did not disagree – at least not openly.

“Three days,” he ordered. “And the Elf is to be restricted to palace grounds.”

“I will not be made a prisoner!” Galadriel protested.

“I would sooner knee-cap a stallion than seek to imprison the mighty Commander of the Northern Armies,” Ar-Pharazôn answered ironically and the crowd laughed at her. “So, you shall be Númenor’s guest.”

You could feel the tension in the room slowly relaxing and you nodded at the Queen Regent before walking out in a hurry, feeling Halbrand’s eyes on you as you were walking out in a haste with your skirts gathered in your fists, rushing to your chambers to collect your chaotic thoughts.

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

When you heard from your maid at the end of the day that the human named Halbrand ended up in jail already for starting a fight, you simply could not stop yourself from paying him a visit. You walked inside the prison area of the palace carefully as you moved quietly throughout the hall with your dress flowing behind you gently.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He was smirking as he watched you with no reaction whatsoever. Once more you noticed that you could not sense his aura or predict his mood like you usually could with most creatures, even the noblest of the Elves.

“You are no human,” you stated as you stood right in front of his cell. Halbrand snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” You asked and he only shook his head.

You grabbed the bars and squeezed them tightly as the silence broke due to your ring clashing with the iron. The sound echoed and Halbrand turned his head around rapidly while he squinted his eyes at your ring.

“Are you him?” You asked, nearly desperately. “Are you my Mairon?”

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

“You would look like a crazy maniac if I was not,” he whispered, leaning in. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You were supposed to be dead…” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed your fists even tighter around the bars as your whole soul vibrated throughout your human form.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

“This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

But Mairon was back now and alongside him back was the part of you that had died with him.

“Will you tell them about me, (Y/N)?” He asked, quietly.

“I should, should I not? You are up to no good,” you sniffled your tears back and your eyes met his. You let go of the iron bars and extended your hands to cup his scratched cheeks. When you touched, you felt your whole body trembling, barely able to contain your spirit and your power.

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

“Up to no good then,” you let out a small chuckle through your tears. You knew him enough already to know what it meant.

You wanted to get rid of the iron bars and to kiss him. His form differed from his previous one but it was never about his flesh – it was always about whatever it contained.

You had never really kissed, though. All those centuries you had spent with each other, you had spent it on yearning and gazing at yourselves, stealing soft pecks upon your cheeks or knuckles, giving each other gifts and talking sweet to one another.

Because you knew that the Maiar had not been created to love – not like this, at least. They had not been created to know the pleasures of the flesh or its desires. They had been created to serve the gods.

Perhaps something had gone wrong during the act of your creation. Perhaps it had not – perhaps it was that part of him living inside of you that craved to be close to him at all times just like the part of you living inside of him craved to be close to you.

“Join me, (Y/N), come with me, be my Queen,” Halbrand whispered and you froze, taking your hands away immediately.

“Not even half an hour I was given to enjoy your return for you are trying to deceive me once more,” you remarked, harshly.

He had been known to tease and tempt you countless of times but your soul remained pure no matter what.

“Melkor is no more. I am my own master now but I will never be whole without you by my side,” Halbrand was the one to wrap his hands around the iron bars now as he moved even closer while you took a step back. “Varda outcasted you? I will make sure no one in Middle-earth worships her no more for you will become their Queen of Light.”

“Revenge is not what I seek,” you shook your head. “Please, Mairon, your words are like daggers. I cannot handle them,” you turned your head around as more and more of your tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Refuse me as much as you like, (Y/N). A part of you lives inside of me and that is my lightness. A part of me lives inside of you and it is the part you consider rotten. Be careful, my dear, for the rot likes to spread,” Halbrand warned you although his voice remained sweet.

“I have never considered anything coming from you to be rotten,” you laid your eyes upon him again.

“Can you not see, my sweet? They keep us apart because together we would become so powerful that we could outcast the gods themselves,” Halbrand continued and his whisper caused a shiver to go down your spine. His words were wrong… So wrong. “Together, we could be anything we wanted. We could be forged into one flesh if we wished, forever bound.”

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Perhaps you would go on like that – and knowing you two, you could do that for ages. But you were interrupted by Lady Galadriel, who looked you up and down with curiosity as she entered the prison.

“The most trusted advisor of the Queen Regent,” she greeted you, “but the least trusted one amongst her subjects. You come from Middle-earth, they say. A noble Lady. But I have never heard of you before,” Galadriel pointed out.

“Must Elves know all about human affairs?” You challenged her and she smiled, softly.

“Human? Yes,” Galadriel answered. “There are spirits, however, that remain out of our grasp. They are no gods but nearly like them. Sent to us by the Valar when we need aid,” she squinted her eyes.

“I shall remain out of your grasp then,” you nodded and she nodded back.

“What is going on?” Halbrand whined, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms again. Putting on an act of a common man in front of Galadriel and even though you knew you should scream into her face that he was the very darkness she had sworn to fight and defeat – you chose to stay silent. Perhaps he would redeem himself, perhaps he would realise that he might be given a second chance if only he decided to choose the right path this time.

Perhaps, before outing him to the outside world, you would try to fix his way of perceiving which path was the right one.

And you knew he had been given too many chances already but your heart would never give up on him. You would forever find excuses for him and try to make it right between you two.

“You…” Galadriel approached the iron bars as she smiled softly at Halbrand. “You do not belong on this island.”

“If there’s one of us that doesn’t belong here, Elf, it’s you,” Halbrand shook his head.

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled as she briefly laid them upon you. “But one thing I am now certain. You are more than you claim,” she took a step further. “I found this in the Hall of Lore,” she handed Halbrand a scroll of paper that made you squint your eyes.

He took it, pretending to be unbothered. And when he opened it, you saw a heraldry drawing, suddenly realising he was wearing a pendant with the same mark. What was the game he was playing…?

“That’s funny. I found this on a dead man,” Halbrand winked at you before he looked at Galadriel with a smirk. “Thought the pattern suited me,” he added and sat down on a bench inside his cell.

Galadriel sighed and she glanced at you, as if she was expecting you to help her. You did not move an inch, however.

“Many ages ago, a man bearing that mark united the scattered tribes of the Southlands under one banner,” she told Halbrand. “The very banner that might unite them again today. Against the evil that now seeks to claim their lands. Your lands, Halbrand,” she emphasised and you sucked on the inside of your cheeks after realising what his clever scheme was. “Your people have no King for you are him,” Galadriel kept insisting.

Your Mairon, the great deceiver, knew very well that eagerly agreeing to all of this would not be as powerful as trying to pretend to be uninterested at first. Therefore, he looked away and chuckled.

“That’s an odd thing to say to a man in a cage,” he pointed out. 

“A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common,” Galadriel claimed as she looked at you again. “My Lady, you must tell your Queen the truth.”

“No Elf will tell me what I must or I must not do,” you smirked as you shook your head at how arrogant she was. You had to play your role but even as your Maia self, you wanted to humble her. “I doubt one pendant proves this man’s heritage enough.”

“What about his testimony?” Galadriel was not giving up as she looked at Halbrand again. “The armour that ought to rest upon your shoulders weighs upon your soul, Halbrand.”

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

“Be careful, Elf,” he said eventually. “The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility,” Halbrand stood up to approach the iron bars. “For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth,” he reminded her and you were in awe how he used the bits of dark truth about himself to toy with her and test the waters.

And how oblivious she was, how eager to keep following the scenario she had already prepared for this situation to go with in her head.

“I am not the hero you seek,” Halbrand shook his head.

Indeed, he was not.

“For it was my family that lost the war,” he added.

“And it was mine who started it,” Galadriel insisted. “Ours was no chance meeting,” she pointed out and looked at you again. “No fate, nor destiny, nor any other words men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater,” she smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

Was she thinking that it was you who caused this meeting? Gods, if she only knew…

“You must see it,” she looked back at Halbrand.

“All I see is an Elf who won’t put down her sword,” he remarked.

“Come with me to Middle-earth,” she leaned in to be closer to him and you felt an odd sting of pain inside of your heart. Was it jealousy that another woman dared to stand so close to your Mairon…? Most likely. “And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.”

“How?” Halbrand asked, looking at her intensely. “You’re stuck on this island and you’re still short an army,” he smirked.

“That is all about to change,” Galadriel smiled and turned around to walk away.

You glanced at the man one last time before hurrying after her.

“Lady Galadriel!” You called out her name once you were outside the prison.

“My Lady,” she turned around to face you and you nearly bumped into her. “I did not expect to encounter an emissary of the Valar in Númenor, I must admit,” she bowed her head slightly. “How should I address you?”

“Here, in Númenor, you must call me Lady Maneth. In Valinor you would know me as (Y/N),” you introduced yourself and Lady Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)...” She breathed out. “You know more than anyone else how important my task is. We must stop the darkness from spreading,” she pleaded.

“No,” you shook your head. “You must stop pushing this man… Halbrand… Into whatever you are trying to push him into,” you scolded her.

“Do the Valar have different plans for him?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It is not about him,” you winced, not wanting to discuss Mairon any longer with her. “It is about you, Artanis. You are beginning to become the very darkness you swore once to destroy,” you warned her.

“What do you mean?” Galadriel furrowed her brow as she took a step back.

“It is still cheating when one betrays a cheater. It is still a theft when one steals from a thief. And it is still a murder when one kills a murderer. Because it is not the matter of whether one deserves it or not – it is a matter of the act itself being committed. Too many pure and good souls were lost to us, driven by the desire to do justice,” you lectured her and you could feel her anger and frustration rising, however she would never dare to lash out on an emissary of the gods.

“Pretty words, that is all you can offer, meanwhile people are dying,” she spat out.

“Do you truly care about them, Artanis, or is their suffering your excuse to pick up the sword once more?” You asked but she was walking away angrily already and all you could see was her back, disappearing in the darkness of the corridor ahead of you.

You turned around once more and sighed at the doors leading back to the prison. You decided to leave Halbrand alone for the night but you worried about what would happen next. If he was about to choose the wrong path again, you would have to reveal his true self to everyone and interfere with his scheme.

Hope was all you had as you fidgeted with the ring around your finger.

“The visions are back and worse than ever,” Míriel confessed to you. “I suspect that it all has something to do with the Elf,” she added as she was trying to read your face but you made sure not to reveal anything.

“I knew that people of Númenor despised her kin but I underestimated the delicacy of the situation,” you admitted as you moved closer to the Queen Regent. “This is beyond worrying. The future of Númenor depends on your relationship with others. It is no time to make enemies instead of friends,” you warned.

“It would be an easier task to convince them that the Elves are not our enemies if only Lady Galadriel was not so…” the Queen Regent sighed, looking for the right word.

“Insufferable?” You chuckled and she nodded with a smile. “Elves differ from humans. They are not raised to be humble.”

“You know a lot about their kin,” Míriel pointed out, trying to make you confess who you truly were once more. She would never ask openly but sometimes she was teasing you this way.

“There are quite a few in the lands I come from,” you only answered.

“The lands you come from… Are they not The Southlands?” Míriel raised her eyebrows. “Like that human man?”

You took a deep breath in. If only you had known back then that your backstory would cause problems a few years later… But it was too late to change it because it would be highly suspicious.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But he is a commoner. I was a noble,” you added.

You were interrupted by Captain Elendil leading Lady Galadriel to you. She bowed her head slightly and exchanged a meaningful look with you.

“Lady Galadriel wishes for an audience,” Captain Elendil said and the Queen Regent nodded her head.

You stood still because these days she wanted you by her side always, no matter what. You did not even have to ask if you should leave or not.

“What is it?” Míriel asked when Galadriel stood on the other side of the table, facing you. She laid out two scrolls of paper in front of you – one was the same she had shown to Halbrand on the previous day and the other one was much more worn out and dirty.

“I found this in the Hall of Lore,” Galadriel informed the Queen Regent mysteriously and you allowed Míriel to see the items with her own eyes as you kept standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“You vex me, Elf,” Míriel looked up at Galadriel. “I welcome you as a guest and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry.”

“He is understandably quick to temper. His people are dying,” Galadriel explained.

“His people?” The Queen Regent asked, surprised.

“I believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of The Southlands,” she revealed.

Míriel turned around to look at you and you raised your eyebrows slightly. You were not sure what to say to that. Should you help Mairon or interfere with his schemes? The answer was only easy for your mind but your heart wished to never cause him any trouble.

“Lady Maneth comes from The Southlands. She would know about that,” the Queen Regent informed Galadriel and the Elf looked at you, intensely.

“I cannot be sure,” you only said. “That there was a long gone line of Kings, I have known. That there are still their living descendants, I have not been aware of. That is not impossible, though,” you explained.

“His people are scattered. Leaderless,” Galadriel looked back at Míriel. “But with your backing they might unite behind his banner. And fight.”

How oblivious she was. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see floating in the air. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see people follow.

“What do you mean backing?” Míriel asked, taken aback by Galadriel’s proposal.

“Sauron was once your people’s enemy, as much as mine,” Galadriel reminded her and you moved uncomfortably. “I call on you to finish the task left undone.”

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

“I shall go,” you spoke, interrupting the tension between the two women. Míriel looked at you with a slight panic in her eyes because she did not want to be left alone with Galadriel but you simply could not stand being there anymore, hearing her talk about your Mairon. “I shall question that man, Halbrand. Mayhaps I will find out if he truly is what the Elf claims,” you said and Míriel nodded at you although you could sense she still felt uneasy to be left without your counsel.

You walked past Captain Elendil and went to the prison area of the palace like on the night before. Halbrand was sitting on the bench this time, with his back leaning on the iron bars. At the sound of your footsteps, he did not even flinch nor turned his head around. He did not have to. He knew it was you coming.

“Mairon…” You crouched down in front of his cell and wrapped your fingers around the bars. “Do not follow her, resist her temptation. Stay here with me.”

Halbrand turned around slowly with a playful smile on his lips as he looked down at you. You were not on your knees but it still seemed as if you were begging him.

“Stay here with you? Are you not a grand Lady on this island?” He asked.

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

Halbrand stood up and the distance between you became even bigger now as he kept looking down at you with a hint of adoration mixed with pure contempt. He had to think you were pathetic and some part of him found it adorable but the other part found it embarrassing.

“It does not have to be Númenor,” you added. “We can go anywhere.”

“Let us go to The Southlands then,” Halbrand smirked. “Be the Queen alongside me.”

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

Halbrand did not like your choice of words as his eyes darkened. He crouched down as well, slowly, in a nearly threatening way. Now you were on his eye level as he looked intensely at you.

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

The sound of footsteps made you stand up quickly and fix your dress. Halbrand also moved up and sat down on the bench. It was all done right in time because the guards walked inside the prison, dragging Lady Galadriel behind them. You watched with widened eyes as she was being thrown inside one of the cells.

“Don’t tell me,” Halbrand chuckled at her. “Tavern brawl?”

“Sedition,” she answered and Halbrand laughed as you gave her a scolding look.

When you joined Míriel again, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring outside the window. She turned her head around to smile at you gently and then she went back to staring ahead of her.

“And?” She asked.

“He asked for my hand,” you informed her with a playful smirk and the Queen Regent turned her head around once more to look at you with wide eyes.

“The audacity…” She sighed.

“Why?” You asked her with a soft smile.

“For a commoner to propose such a thing to a Lady like you… Even if it was only to jest–”

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

“You are above human Kings, are you not, Lady Maneth?” Míriel raised an eyebrow at you. It was the very first time she asked such a thing so openly.

“I cannot answer that, my friend,” you smiled at her mysteriously, “but if he chooses to follow the path Lady Galadriel pushes him onto, I might have to follow him.”

“And abandon Númenor?” The Queen Regent asked. “Abandon me?”

“I am sorry,” you sighed. “Following him might be a task much more important than watching over this island,” you revealed to her.

Even though you were not given direct orders from the gods, it was obvious that watching over Mairon was more important because keeping his schemes under control would only profit in the end for everyone, including the people of Númenor. Míriel could not be told all the details, therefore she would never understand and she would feel abandoned by you. It was the price you had to pay.

It was an excuse, of course. Choosing to follow Mairon to Middle-earth to make sure he would not go back to his evil ways and that he would use the position Galadriel was giving him to do good instead… It was nothing but a noble excuse to simply explain the fact you wanted to follow him.

It was different now, though. It was not one of those times when he had begged you to come with him, straight to Morgoth. No, this time there was a string of hope that he would truly redeem himself. And of course he would have a bigger chance to do so with you by his side.

“It seems so important… Everything happening in Middle-earth. More important than I suspected. But if even you are willing to leave my side to go back there, it means there are things happening there that are much bigger than me,” Míriel said. “I must rethink Lady Galadriel’s words now then,” she informed you and walked past you to walk away. “Just like you must rethink Halbrand’s proposal.”

“Yes, I must,” you nodded at her and looked outside the window yourself. The sun was slowly setting and the view was beautiful – you wished it would forever be like this; so peaceful and calm with pink and orange hues.

Like back in the day when you had been sitting in the flower fields with Mairon, staring at the skies, your bodies filled with no malice – only pure yearning for one another.

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

You were standing by the guards’ side as you watched them open Halbrand’s cell. They nodded at him and he nodded back. The guards left you with him alone and an awkward silence occurred between you two.

“There, you have it your way,” you finally said, quietly.

“You must have missed me terribly,” he crossed his arms and chuckled but you did not want to laugh.

Your eyes filled with tears immediately at the mention of all those centuries you had spent thinking he was gone forever. You lifted your wet, glistening eyes to lay them on his and he clenched his jaw as he moved slightly while all playfulness left his expression.

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

“Oh, Mairon…” You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer and hug him.

However, he had something else on his mind. He blinked slowly a few times and cupped your cheeks now with his rough hands as he leaned in to join your lips together.

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Just when you finished voicing out your blasphemous feelings, Halbrand’s lips kissed you once more. This time he lowered his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. You felt him smirking when he felt the ring on your finger brushing his skin.

“Let us get married. Straight away,” he breathed out. “You are wearing my ring already. You have worn it for all eternity.”

“It would be only fair if you wore something from me as well. Something to mark you as my own like I am yours,” you pointed out.

“What would it be, my sweet?” Mairon caressed your cheek and you smirked at him a little before you reached out to the back of your neck.

You had prepared your gift for him this very morning when you already knew he would be released. There was a pendant around your neck, hidden under your dress. You took it off now and handed it to him as he slightly moved away at the sight of it.

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

“Have you not sacrificed enough of your light for me already?” Mairon asked.

“Never enough. I shall sacrifice as much of it as I can to save you, my love,” you insisted and pushed the necklace into his open hand as you closed it around the pendant.

Mairon forced a smile as he swallowed thickly and opened his hand again to stare at the necklace before slowly putting it around his neck and hiding it under his tunic.

“Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya and you smiled back at him, encouragingly.

It had been ages since you last wore armour. Lately, the Valar had been using you more as a politician than a warrior but you still remembered the wars you had taken part of. Back then you had been on the opposite side of the field from Mairon but now you were by his side, riding your horse next to his as people of Númenor were throwing flowers at you. 

You took a deep breath in when it was time for you to jump off of your mare. What you were about to do would be equal to making a final decision about your fate – leaving Númenor meant forsaking the task that had been given to you by the Valar. However, you wanted to believe that they would value your new task even more; the one you had given to yourself. To watch over Mairon and make sure no one would know him as Sauron ever again.

He helped you to get on the ship and when you held his hand tight and he grinned at you, your heart filled with love and warmth. There was, however, a hint of worry because you knew what a skilled deceiver he could be. 

To become the King and Queen of The Southlands and to erase the darkness from that long-forsaken land was your shared goal now. Or so he had been promising you. To unite the tribes of that realm and to make sure they had a bright future. And once your mortal forms would become old enough, you would abandon or transform them to start a new life somewhere else. To heal more and more lands, more kins. 

You wanted to believe the healing would be done in the right and proper way this time because now he had you by his side.

Your new husband and an old companion smirked at you and squeezed your cheek playfully before turning around to join Captain Elendil to speak to him as the ships sailed out of the harbour. Lady Galadriel stood next to you instead and she glanced at you from the corner of her eye.

“I know it is not my right to ask about the ways of the Valar and the Maiar but why would a spirit like you marry a human and abandon the task originally given to her?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“The road goes ever winding,” you answered her. “Not even the Valar or the Maiar can see all its paths.”

“Your devotion to this cause makes me believe I was right to fight so eagerly for this to happen,” she said and you smiled to yourself. She was so desperate.

“You are right, Artanis. It is not your right to know about the ways of my kind,” you patted her shoulder and gave her a faint smile as she nodded, staring into the horizon.

You looked there, too, but your mind was absent. You were scared and unsure – some part of you nearly wanted to be as blind as Lady Galadriel because she seemed to be so certain and fearless.

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. 

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

MASTERLIST

[hexefreya]

I have spent some time trying to neatly wrap all the facts and details together in a satisfying conclusion, alas, time loop storylines are anything but neat...

Mage Viktor sent Ekko and Heimerdinger to alternate reality 2-7, and it's my conviction it was intentional down to the fact that Heimerdinger was transported three years into the past. And that is why the time loop he created is not actually a circle, it's an 8 (infinity) - two dimensions intertwined, as hinted by the imagery in the show. This way the only way his plan was going to work.

What we can confidently state is that Mage Viktor, who is inextricably tied to Hexcore, can manipulate it and has power over the spacetime continuum, at least to some extent through the anomaly. And he is going through the painstaking process of figuring out how to successfully untangle the paradox of Hexcore, at the heart of which are Viktor and Jayce. There is no way of knowing how long it took him to realize that willingly erasing himself from existence is the only way it can be done, but it is my opinion that once he was set on this mission, he was very methodical about it and catalogued everything during all the countless timelines and possibilities.

In the alternate reality 2-7 hextech was never developed and this is why this dimension was the one they were sent to - no Hexcore and no Viktor, who could intervene in creating Ekko's time device. But this reality was still touched by Hexcore - Jayce wouldn't even have been alive otherwise - Mage Viktor did save him as a child from the snowstorm. Without adult Jayce the explosion in his apartment, that killed at least one confirmed person (Vi), wouldn't have happened.

But damage is done. And here is where Heimerdinger comes into play to navigate through this turbulent period.

First and foremost he is the Head of the Council at that time, has detailed memory of how badly everything went wrong with Hextech in his own reality and even more importantly - he already spent enough time living in Zaun to understand the errors of Piltover's way in regards to the Undercity. By the time Ekko lands in this alternate reality three years after, Piltover and Zaun are obviously cooperating to the point where everything seems almost idyllic, and I think it's majorly due to the Heimerdinger's guiding hand in immediately destroying anything left from Jayce's research and targeted decisions and careful politics in uniting Piltover and Zaun after the explosion accident (like negotiating with Silco, preventing the first use of Shimmer, etc).

Viktor is incredibly complex, same as his motives. I believe that through everything he was still faithful to his and Jayce's shared dream and passion - help people, do good, make the world a better place with hextech. By sending Heimerdinger in reality 2-7, Viktor made sure hextech is never developed and the city is prospering, thus indirectly using hextech to change the world for the better, honoring best of his and Jayce's ambitions. There was no other reason for Heimerdinger to be sent back in time, he and Ekko would be able to recreate the anomaly with the remaining crystal shards regardless and his main plan would still work. But this way the city is finally prospering, Zaun is thriving!

With Ekko extracting the very last remaining crystal shards, Viktor made sure that this dimension is eradicated of all traces of Hextech. And by taking Ekko back to his own reality, armed with the anomaly (intended to reach Viktor and negate the anomaly in his timeline), Viktor forever closed the linked loop, initially created by him in the first place.

And since we've established Viktor wields the power to send people both ways through time (as demonstrated on Jayce and Heimerdinger), it's easy to assume he could transport Ekko back to his own reality into any specific timeframe he wished, for instance, way sooner than Viktor became the Machine Herald and the situation was escalated beyond reason. Which only circles back to my original take, that EVERYTHING was Viktor's meticulous plan how to erase hextech and to do the most good in the process.

To this I can only add my belief, that Mage Viktor was willing to condemn himself to unbearable pain - Jayce mercilessly trying to kill him without sparing a word (twice) - to create a better outcome in the aftermath of his and Hexcore destruction. And I think he was strongly motivated not only by the greater good, but by ensuring Jayce's survival.

I believe it caused him much distress to bear witness how the only hextech free reality comes from Jayce's demise. I'm sure he was essentially at peace as to what must transpire to himself, but to believe that the "perfect" world is the one where Jayce doesn't exist? He wouldn't do that to his own Jayce. He lost him once, not again. For him Viktor will carve out the world if he has to.

Mage Viktor didn't have a shadow of the doubt that even after these betrayals and horrific transformations Viktor's love for Jayce was as strong as ever. He was confident that Viktor, being reminded of it and thus freed from Hexcore influence, wouldn't even hesitate to destroy himself in order to save Jayce ("You must go, Jayce") and the only world, where Jayce can even exist! Even if it meant that Jayce would hate Viktor afterwards.

It is obvious that our Viktor never even entertained the possibility of his feelings being reciprocated. The sheer disbelief and awe in his eyes, when he dares to believe that he is seen and loved.

Who knew, that Jayce loved Viktor more than life itself? More than the world Viktor was trying so hard to save him for. Did Mage Viktor? Did he realize the futility of all his efforts in trying to save him, when he looked in Jayce's eyes and saw love reflected there? I think so..

[4dkellysworld]

Neville Goddard: I Am and The Promise

I was curious to find Neville's more ND-related texts so I skimmed The Law and The Promise and Power of Awareness (only the relevant chapters). I don't agree with everything Neville Goddard says as he says God is imagination but from ND-perspective, God is an imagined concept too so I guess he's right actually lol. At least in The Law and the Promise he speaks only of God as if it's the highest form of being while from an ND-perspective, I AM (Self) is beyond the concept of God (He does speak of I AM in Power of Awareness but that book was published 9 years before The Law and The Promise). Nevertheless, these particular excerpts from these two books were interesting to read and ND-relevant so I thought I'd share.

From Power of Awareness:

I AM is a feeling of permanent awareness. The very center of consciousness is the feeling of I AM - I may forget who I am, where I am, what I am but I cannot forget that I AM. The awareness of being remains, regardless of the degree of forgetfulness of who, where, and what I am. When you know that consciousness is the one and only reality -conceiving itself to be something good, bad, or indifferent, and becoming that which It conceived itself to be - you are free from the tyranny of second causes, free from the belief that there are causes outside of your own mind that can affect your life. Thus, it is abundantly clear that there is only one I AM and you are that I AM. And while I AM is infinite, you, by your concept of yourself, are displaying only a limited aspect of the infinite I AM.

From The Law and The Promise:

My mystical experiences have brought me to accept literally, the saying that all the world’s a stage. And to believe that God plays all the parts. The purpose of the play? To transform man, the created, into God, the creator. God loved man, his created, and became man in faith that this act of self-commission would transform man - the created, into God - the creator. The play begins with the crucifixion of God on man - as man - and ends with the resurrection of man - as God. God becomes as we are, so that we may be as He is.

When He rises in us, we will be like Him and He will be like us. Then all impossibilities will dissolve in us at that touch of exaltation which His rising in us will impart to our nature. Here is the secret of the world: God died to give man life and to set man free, for however clearly God is aware of His creation, it does not follow that man, imaginatively created, is aware of God.

The drawing of oneself out of one’s own skull (my own interpretation: quieting the mind, letting go of ego identification) was exactly what the prophet foresaw as the necessary birth from above, a birth giving man entrance into the kingdom of God and reflective perception on the highest levels of Being.

Our dreams will all be realized from the time that we know that Imagining Creates Reality (note: I AM imagining, not ego though) and Act. But Imagination seeks from us something much deeper and more fundamental than creating things: nothing less indeed than the recognition of its own oneness, with God; that what it does is, in reality, God Himself doing it in and through Man, who is All Imagination.

[welshoot]

Genshin Impact Timeline: Analysis and Theory (Part 3.1: The Archon War - Mondstadt)

[Ancient History]  [Mythic Period] [Archon War-Mondstadt] [Archon War-Liyue & Inazuma] [Archon War-Sumeru & Fontaine]

This is the first part of the third section of my theoretical timeline for Genshin Impact Lore. I will possibly add to this as updates with new information or information that corrects past misunderstandings crop up. I put the rest under-the-cut because it gets rather lengthy. Also this is all theoretical from the process of analysis. I used the game itself and the Genshin Impact wiki to help me along. There are definite spoilers below for pretty much all of the Genshin Impact storyline so please beware!

The Archon War Time Period

We have no idea how or why the Archon War began and each country has it starting at a different time. The scholar NPCs and various lines in the Sumeru Archon quest line suggest that war was started as a fight for seats in Celestia. However, the distributing of Gnoses among the victors paired with the knowledge that the Primordial One and ‘the one who came after’ created the gnoses to regain control over the Authority they took from the Seven Sovereigns implies that there's probably more to it. Another theory is that the archon war was meant to reduce the number of thrones in heaven with the war ending when only seven thrones were left. I have also seen it suggested that at least part of the fighting that occurred during the Archon War was some gods taking advantage of the strife to gain more land/power. Either way, the Archon War is usually stated to have started several thousand years ago from the start of the game and have ended 2,000 years after the final seat was claimed and only the seven archons remained, which is sometimes implied to have been 2,000 years before the start of the game [Liyue Archon Quest]. The best tool for building a timeline here is unfortunately Zhongli (i.e. Morax/Rex Lapis) whom we know took part in the war and is said to have ‘descended to Teyvat more than 6,000 years ago’ in the third act of the Liyue Archon quest line titled “A New Star Approaches.” It should be noted that some of the gods involved in this war were only involved because they were defending their territory. It has been suggested some of the defeated gods, or those who allied themselves with the victors, remained in Teyvat and ‘served’ the archons they pledged allegiance to while others (Orobashi, for instance) went into an area called ‘The Dark Sea’ which Enkanomiya is apparently part of [Ascension Material: Bit of Aerosiderite, Ascension Material: Jade Branch of a Distant Sea].

Mondstadt

According to Venti’s character story/lore, the majority of the archon war in Mondstadt took place approximately 2600 years ago, during the time of old Mondstadt [Venti Character Story 3]. The war here was a stalemate between Decarabian, the God of Storms, who ruled the old city of Mondstadt and Boreas (better known as Andrius), the Wolf King of the North, whose powers were supposedly given to him by an ancient god [Adventurer Handbook: Enemies: Andrius]. Venti (Barbatos) came onto the scene as a wisp of the thousand winds (which possibly refers to Istaroth, a shade of the Primordial One) that befriended a nameless bard who dreamt of freedom, and saved the Gunnhildr clan, who’d escaped the city [Venti Character Story 3]. The resulting faith of these two empowered him and, eventually, via a revolution that Barbatos was part of due to accompanying a nameless bard he befriended, Decarabian was defeated. Barbatos then ended up claiming the throne of the Anemo Archon while Andrius, who knew he was ill-fit for the role of archon,  disappeared, apparently choosing to let his power flow into the land of Mondstadt [Ascension Material: Boreal Wolf’s Milk Tooth, Ascension Material: Boreal Wolf’s Cracked Tooth]. It is worth noting here that it is unclear if the revolution was viewed as Barbatos besting the other gods in combat and thus winning the Mondstadt section of the archon war, or if Barbatos was simply the last god standing and thus won de facto. Barbatos took the form of his bard friend who died in the revolution, used his wind powers to make the land prosperous, taught his people the values of freedom, and then chose to disappear since he refused to rule the people directly for fear of becoming a tyrant [Venti Story Quest, Venti Character Story 4, Mondstadt Archon Quest]. Notably, based on the timeline that the archon war ended approximately 2,000 years ago combined with the knowledge that the fight between Decarabian and Andrius occurred around 2,600 years ago, Barbatos may have been the last archon to claim a throne [Liyue Archon Quest, Venti Character Story 3]. 

[lightlycareless]

sneak peak of one of the requests I've been working on :> also an idea I wanted to explore with Naoya hahahah he's a jerk btw.

complete version here.

When the idea of an open relationship is suggested… the first, of many fractures, unwittingly struck onto your relationship.

First by shattering the image you had of him.

Sure, your feelings for him remained, which is what made this ordeal far more painful…

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t harbor other feelings, such as anger.

“—just before we finally settle.” Is the lousy excuse he gives you when confronted, another stab to your heart. “Get it out of the system, you know?”

No. You don’t know, because for the past few years, Naoya is the only man you’ve had eyes for, imagining a future with him—and solely him.

It hurts to even consider he hasn’t been doing the same, probably already interested in some other woman, the reason behind his suggestion in the first place.

“I don’t want to…” you murmur, doing your best to not leave the table, or at least not shed a tear.

“It’ll only be a short time.” Naoya insists. “This way, we can know if we’re truly meant for each other. See if we don’t feel the same with others, hm?”

It’s stupid.

It really is—

Naoya’s suggestion… and your devotion to make him happy.

Because even after all the dumb things he said to justify the unjustifiable, you still wanted to please him.

“I guess we could go through restrictions or something, not that I have an—”

“No sex.” The rapid way in which you reply is something Naoya can’t help but find adorable, interpreting your eagerness as jealousy, overprotectiveness… before brushing it off as silly.

“Y/N—my love, you’re not seriously thinking we can reach a conclusion without that now, can we?”

Truth to be told, you didn’t want to find out. Not by this way at least, by laying in the arms of another…

Could he really blame you for trying to fight it?

“Besides, don’t you want to try it out too?” Naoya smirks. “I’m fine with it, really. It’s a two-way road, after all. What’s good in me having all the fun?”

What hurts more?

That fact that Naoya wanted to pursue other women with your permission?

Or that he was pushing you onto other men, appearing careless to whatever you did or didn’t do with them?

It’s not that Naoya doesn’t care—far from that, really. He doesn’t like when men do as little as glance in your direction.

But he doesn’t worry, because he knows there’s nothing to worry about.

Trusting that his hopelessly-in-love girlfriend would never betray him like that. Aware that your attention and devotion has been on him the moment you took him into your heart—and that no matter what, you’ll always come back to him.

It’s why he suggested the idea in the first place, because he’s long acknowledged that even past your limits, you still tolerate him.

Thus, unsurprised that you agreed to this change—Naoya leaving the apartment soon after that.

Looks like you were right in assuming he already had someone in mind to debut this new arrangement; willing to bet anything to prove he’s already on way to her.

…Well, you hope that Naoya at least respects the only condition both agreed on: not bring any partners to the apartment.

Not that you’d be there to see much of it anyways, opting to stay in your friend’s—Shoko— apartment for the time being.

“Can���t say I didn’t imagine him capable of something like that—but I guess I never thought he’d actually do it, not after dating you as long as he did.” She’d say, before taking a deep huff of her cigarette and exhaling.

You always found it endearing how she’d release the smoke to the side, as if it didn’t permeate the air around you… but at least Shoko cares enough to try.

“So much for having faith on him…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, offended yet intrigued by her implications.

“I mean, you knew of the rumors before dating him, Y/N.” Shoko adds, you sigh. That, you did. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but…”

“I guess I was hoping they weren’t real.” You slowly admit. “…What am I going to do, Shoko?”

A breakup isn’t exactly what you had in mind, certainly not what you wanted to do….

But why do that now when you could take advantage of this exploitable opportunity? An opening all too obvious to Shoko, which she doesn’t hesitate to let you know.

“Give him a taste of his own medicine.” She suddenly suggests. “He told you, didn’t he? That you were good to be with other men.”

“But I don’t want to.” You shake your head. “I don’t—I don’t think I can.”

“It’s exactly the same, just another face if that’s what you’re wondering.” Shoko explains, but to you, it was much deeper than that, always has been, certainly for an emotional personal like you.

It’s why she was so angry that your beloved boyfriend was quick to disregard your feelings.

“Ok, sure, let’s say I agree.” You play along. “How do I even start? It’s been a while since I’ve been in the dating scene—I don’t even know if I’m still… desirable.”

Oh, if you only knew.

.I. naoya

[bookshelf-in-progress]

My favorite thing about Jemrauth, last king of Arateph, is that he is so devoted to his wife and the concept of marital fidelity that it reshapes the politics of an entire planet. Unfortunately, he keeps falling out of any stories I try to tell in this setting, and even if I do manage to get him to show up, there's no way I'll be able to fit in any of this backstory. Which is an excellent reason to talk about it here.

Jemrauth's grandfather, King Evris, had no interest in ruling a planet and preferred to focus on his interest in landscaping, botany, zoology, etc. Which meant that by the end of his reign, the royal palaces had amazing gardens, but the planetary government was in shambles (because the ruling Houses had been able to run rampant without oversight).

Jemrauth's father, Hilath, (who basically started running the planet as soon as he was old enough to hold adult conversations), thus decided to value his duty to Arateph over any personal preferences. This included marrying a politically ideal woman that he didn't care two straws for.

Hilath thought the pursuit of virtue was irrelevant to ruling Arateph, and this philosophy spilled over into his private life. Once the succession was secure, he saw no reason to remain faithful to his wife, and openly filled his needs for companionship with an array of mistresses he housed in the palace.

Unfortunately, Jemrauth's mother did care for Hilath, and her husband's behavior broke her heart. (Especially since he'd string her along just enough to make her think he still cared for her and maybe they could fix things.)

(Also, it wasn't like she could have her own set of lovers, because while the king can do what he wants, cheating on the ruler of the entire known universe comes with extreme political, social and sometimes legal consequences).

After she gave her husband his heir and spare (Jemrauth's older brother and sister), Jemrauth's mother decided that this third child (conceived unexpectedly during one of those stringing-along periods) was hers. She took an active role in raising Jemrauth and was very close to him. Jemrauth was thus very aware of how much his father's behavior hurt his mother, and learned to view infidelity as one of the most heinous sins.

Jemrauth became his father's unfavorite--how could Hilath respect someone raised by his wife, who always took her side? It wasn't like Jemrauth was necessary anyway.

Except, um, surprise! Hilath lost his heir and spare to a plague in Jemrauth's late teenage years, which left Jemrauth as the only heir, despite not being raised for the role.

When it came to choosing a wife, Jemrauth knew he needed to marry a woman who he loved and respected and who he would always remain faithful to.

Not long after meeting Marastel, Jemrauth knew that she was the perfect complement to his personality and would make an ideal wife and queen, and he fell head-over-heels.

Hilath was outraged when he found out. Jemrauth had chosen possibly the most unsuitable woman on the entire planet. She was part of House Kepha, which was historically distrusted by the crown and the other houses because of a history of rebellion--and worse, she was on the lowest rungs of it. If he'd fallen in love with a commoner, it would have been better than this, because then at least she wouldn't come with the political baggage. As it was, her low-but-not-low enough rank was just enough to enrage people from every House, and Hilath forbid the relationship.

Jemrauth believed that the relationship had gone too far for him to honorably release Marastel--and besides, he didn't want to. He couldn't marry Marastel, but he refused to marry anyone else. This went on for years, with Jemrauth and Marastel remaining faithful to each other.

Finally, Jemrauth reached the age of ascension and took the throne. His father wasn't worried about the marriage question; an elder king still held a lot of political power, so even as king Jemrauth couldn't marry without his father's consent.

Except, tradition held that the king takes a virtue name upon coronation to define the virtue he holds most important to his reign. Jemrauth took a name that meant loyalty. Caring about people more than the power of the throne--openly declaring he was going to be the opposite of his father. Even worse, the name also had a layer of meaning that stated Jemrauth would remain loyal to Marastel specifically.

At the time of Jemrauth's coronation, renewed societal interest in virtue had Hilath under political scrutiny for his lack of it. He couldn't keep his son from living up to his virtue name. Hilath was enraged, but had no choice but to relent.

Hilath died a short time after Jemrauth took the throne, so Jemrauth was able to rule without his father's interference (or his help, which actually would have been valuable).

As king, Jemrauth wasn't great at keeping his personal feelings separate from his need to cooperate with someone politically. If he found out that someone was unfaithful to their spouse, he immediately classed them as "absolute scum unworthy of respect" and would not work well with them.

The nobility quickly learned that if you want to get anywhere with the king, you either have to be faithful to your spouse or (more often) work really hard to keep the king from hearing about your philandering. This caused upheavals in the Great Houses as lords cast aside or tried to hide mistresses and illegitimate children.

When Marastel was struggling with miscarriage after miscarriage and Jemrauth refused to divorce her, some of the lords tried to set up Othello situations--since the king found infidelity horrendous, they tried to convince him that Marastel was unfaithful so he'd cast her off and marry someone more suitable. They didn't count on the fact that these two loved and trusted and communicated with each other, so none of the manufactured evidence had any ring of truth to it.

The nobility (and some later historians) tried to convince themselves that Jemrauth wasn't really faithful to that wife of his--he was just trapped by his virtue name. They tried to read a lot into Jemrauth's interactions with other women--sometimes the king attended social events while his wife was at home recovering from miscarriages/related depression--but though Jemrauth may have been a bit too sociable (especially when trying to distract himself from his own depression after the deaths of his children), he was never unfaithful and always madly in love with his wife. 1000% chose the right queen. Zero regrets.

This is my way-too-long no-one-read-all-of-this way of saying that I love that this guy's most enduring trait is how much he loves his wife and is dedicated to the concept of true--as in, faithful--love. And I think about it all the time.

[nanomooselet]

My Brother's Keeper (IV)

In Vash's defence, he's not being a hypocrite - he's been consistently stubborn on this point from first to last. He's at least tried to accept and forgive every single one of the other antagonists, albeit with varying success. He's not about to give up on the one who happens to be his only remaining family.

Just like he won't give up on Wolfwood.

I can't abandon anyone who's in a tight spot. That includes you.

Is it for the orphanage?

Thank you. For everything.

This is the final reason that Knives chose so well. Nick himself is a victim, and a hostage. (An innocent man.) If Vash wants the children he protects freed, the easiest way is give himself up without a fight or trying to flee, because it means Wolfwood himself will be saved too - freed by the completion of his contract. I strongly doubt Wolfwood ever told Vash that exists, but it's reasonable Vash inferred that something like it is going on. So even as he's being escorted to face everything he's feared all this time, Vash forgives Wolfwood the "betrayal" with the gentleness of drying a child's tears - since it's for a reason he empathises with (remember Wolfwood's more like Vash than Knives, Knives is just the role he plays). Vash thanks Wolfwood simply for being there.

Why wouldn't he? Vash would never pass judgement upon anyone for protecting those they love when he's the reason they're endangered in the first place. (And every time I remember Vash believes this, I want to punt Knives into the sun.)

Vash is truly glad and grateful for the hope that Nick gave him. For a little while, he got to know what it's like to have a brother he has no reason to be afraid of. Wolfwood, in his pissy, snappish, endlessly-complaining and threatening-with-death sort of way, has faith in Vash and his abilities. Not to mention Vash's ideals, his dream of a better world, started taking hold in Wolfwood as soon as they got to know each other. Wolfwood would much rather live in the world that Vash fights so hard to build than die in the one to which Knives has condemned them all.

He let Vash talk him into trying to save Livio; he, Vash and the little lady did wind up saving Hopeland. He didn't shoot back at the man Vash allowed to shoot him. People are willing to change, even here, even now, even in spite of everything at stake. (Really, "here, now, in spite of everything" might very well be the best time, place and reason.)

Of course Vash is grateful to Wolfwood! Of course he looks at him with such sweet, unbearable fondness. Nick vindicated his trust by trying to change, and thus upheld Vash's longest-held, most dearly treasured conviction, the one Knives has spent all this time trying to shatter. (Let's have faith in humans.)

In short, along with guide and protector and hostage, Nick made for some superlative bait. That's the part I think was accidental.

Vash could have made it to July without him (since that gives Legato no excuse) but for the added incentive, you absolutely cannot do any better than this surly, scruffy, teary-eyed sockless dweeb in sunglasses who tries so hard to be cool. His brotherly love comes in a form Vash craves with all his heart as much as he grieves the love of his mother, his contract made Vash's surrender seem a win-win, and Nick's openness to change makes saving Nai look possible. It's a genuinely clever lure to capture someone like Vash. I'm surprised Knives managed to construct it.

Well, I'm maybe not affording him enough credit. He's had the time and resources to plan.

But Vash knew it was a trap all along. He knew going in. He knew hearing the piano play in Jeneora Rock. He knew all those years ago, in the Plant carrier that became July, when Knives told him he had a hundred years to wait before the coming of a new world. That's why it took a hundred and forty-five years - because Knives wanted Vash to be there, and Vash wouldn't be unless Knives dragged him.

You know, I believe Vash chose to return for himself. Right there in the rubble of Jeneora Rock. He decided it was his responsibility, and Vash's sense of responsibility (in contrast to Knives refusing any) is perhaps his very strongest character trait, running even deeper than his compassion. He takes it to a fault, if anything. He also assumes all blame.

I think because of that, truthfully Wolfwood was redundant. He turned up three days too late to do the job he was supposed to do. He, personally, is fortunate to be the one to meet Vash in person, but that's all. A single stroke of luck in all the fear and pain.

Because he's not a protector. Nor is he a guide. He isn't even a babysitter or a big brother now that Livio's gone. Vash didn't need any of those things, and never did. He really is far tougher than he seems - if anything "tough" is selling him short. Vash might actually be an impossibility. He might be unbreakable. He's a miracle.

And by comparison, Wolfwood's nothing. He's just some random undeserving asshole that Vash chose to save because that's what Vash does.

And that's what I think Wolfwood believes too. What's he even supposed to choose now that he finally has a choice? What was all this even for, without Livio?

How does he go on?

(Part I)

(Part II)

(Part III)

(Part V)

(Part VI)

(Part VII)

[amaryllis-sagitta]

[Old reposts] Some thoughts about Ghilan’nain’s and Fen’Harel’s apotheosis

The myth of Ghilan’nains ascension tells that

“[Andruil] approached Ghilan'nain with an offer: the gods would share their power with Ghilan'nain, but only if she destroyed her creations”. (Codex: The Ascension of Ghilan’nain)

Dalish lore also points at Ghilan’nain being especially faithful to Andruil’s moral path and, in turn, favoured by her. The offer of apotheosis itself was extended by none other that Andruil.

This opens up a rare possibility of patronage being granted by the Evanuris to their chosen subjects. Eventually, the Evanuris agreed to “share their power with Ghilan’nain”. It likely involved some sort of social rite of passing: she received a domain, a sacred shapeshifting form (perhaps shapeshifting was reserved for the Evanuris only altogether?), probably much more than that, but she had to enter the clique and adjust to their group dynamic.

It is confirmed by Fen’Harel in Trespasser DLC that godhood among the elvhen was a matter of acquired power. The Evanuris climbed the ladder of power and esteem until they were worshipped as gods. This suggests an enormous disparity between the Evanuris and the common people of the Elvhenan in peak moments before Mythal’s murder - a disparity that Fen’Harel would have sworn to even out.

He could walk among both the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones, but only the latter are said to have recognized him as their equal.

for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways and saw him as one of their own. (Codex: Fen’Harel, The Dread Wolf)

It is implied from Cole’s remark from Trespasser DLC that Solas used to wear the vallaslin, presumably Mythal’s, but removed it from his own face:

He did not want a body. But she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

I’ll leave aside the possibility of him being chosen as Mythal’s beneficiary at some point in history. What interests me is the tricky position: Fen’Harel being “kin” to the Evanuris, but being excluded from the pantheon; always separated as the double-dealing, lone walker, recognized by the Forgotten Ones, but not quite one of them either.

My guess is that Solas broke free from Mythal while she was still alive because, in his earlier years, he was this kind of archetypal chaotic rogue who couldn’t stand any restrictions, or follow any rules for dear life. Thus, he received a trickster moniker that seems to gather all meanings around betrayal, chaos, deceit, duplicity, havoc, revolt, etc. etc. The ostracization of Solas/ Fen’Harel would have begun long before he started his revolt, for one specific reason: he probably despised both cliques, defied their rules and inner dynamics altogether, and rose to power by plucking whatever bit he wanted to pry away from them to undermine the existing dynamic. For all it’s worth, he operated like a Forgotten One.

From Geldauran’s Claim we can derive that at least one of the Forgotten Ones recognized accomplishments of power and rejected the Evanuris as a group with their pretence to set the rules for others. We don’t know if the Forgotten Ones themselves showed any pretence to define themselves as a group, not just defiant individuals reconciled with their fate to be obscured by history as long as it’s dictated by the Evanuris:

Let Andruil’s bow crack, let June’s fire grow cold. Let them build temples and lure the faithful with promises. Their pride will consume them, and I, forgotten, will claim power of my own, apart from them until I strike in mastery. (Codex: Geldauran’s Claim, JOH)

The myth of Fen’Harel and the Tree shows him between a rock and a hard place, having wronged both Andruil and Anaris the Forgotten One. Which implies, our boy could have been really busy pissing everyone off and usually finding a way to escape retribution by the skin of his teeth. The question remains why Fen’Harel was somehow remembered as a separate entity, not just labelled another Forgotten One.

A possible answer is that his remarkable skill in deceit and double-dealing gave him an immunity pass of a spy mastermind who had a hook on everyone. Which leads us to another possible answer: it’s quite possible that he surpassed both groups, and they reluctantly had to reckon with him while trying to keep the common people away from his area of influence. If he truly managed to imprison both groups of the elvhen “gods”, then for a brief moment he might have been, effectively, the most powerful elvhen to ever exist.

So, here’s a contrast between Ghilan’nain, who obeyed the Evanuris and destroyed the majority of her creation in exchange for power and inclusion (possibly, also the mandate to keep making her creatures on a lesser scale, with better resources and infrastructure, under other Evanuris’ scrutiny), and Fen’Harel who disregarded their rules and quite literally remained a self-made figure. Apotheosis as a token of recognition and as a rise in reputation, and apotheosis as a claim for tangible control.

[thedragonagelesbian]

11, 13 and 21

canon worldstate questions!

11. what are their religious beliefs, if any?

vidreu aeducan: the stone rejected them when they were struck from the memories but it's fine (lying) and they dont swaddle themself in darkspawn blood and gore thinking about the flesh growing in between the fissures and rough-hewn gaps (not literally but metaphorically... and also a little bit literally...............)

cyrus hawke: even from the earliest days, cyrus was among the least andrastian of his family. malcolm had it drilled into him in the circle, and leandra grew up in the servants quarters of the amell estate removed from the alienage's modified worship of the creators. they passed their faith on to their children, and bethany took to it in particular, but cyrus was never interested in big philosophical questions or transcendental contemplation. what mattered to him was acting in the here and now.

as kirkwall weighed on his soul, though, he found himself reaching for dalish faith (as merill teaches it to him) more and more often. it's a way for him to connect with a people, history, and culture beyond the walls of the city of chains, and he desperately needs that kind of spiritual relief.

yiseeril trevelyan: it's ~~~~~~complicated~~~~~~~~~~~; born to a devoutly religious family before being sent to a circle in the heartland of chantry power, yiseeril was the picture of piety growing up. to the extent that that faith was shaken by a rogue templar preaching divine mandate as he made her tranquil, she swallowed that doubt the instant she came back to herself in the clutches of a seeker of truth and the primordial soup of a divine inquisition. when the people of haven proclaimed her to be the herald of andraste, she was all too eager to embrace it and the certainty that came with it, knowing that everything she had suffered up to that point meant something because she was Chosen.

fast forward to here lies the abyss and cassandra's personal quest. realizing that it was an accident that bestowed the mark upon her and that all the years of being lost to herself could've been undone at any time, yiseeril's faith shatters. she is nothing and no one; this house of cards she's built around herself to be a mythic, divine figure comes tumbling down

yiseeril struggles with her faith for the rest of the game--for the rest of her life, really--though always in private; being the herald of andraste remains politically advantageous, after all. but her trajectory is one of moving away from grand religious sublime and toward living in the everyday, the moment to moment, the trivial, and she's at peace with faith being something she now does from time to time rather than being everything that she is

13. their thoughts on the Grey Warden order?

vidreu aeducan: it is a job to dru, but it's a job she loves that lets you get away with a lot of not-so-ethical magic shenanigans in the name of a cause that means a lot to her personally. and also clarel did nothing wrong.

cyrus hawke: before here lies the abyss, cyrus' (negative) feelings toward the wardens were always about specific members (i.e., the hero of ferelden sparing loghain or larius threatening his mother to force his father to do blood magic) but not the order as a whole. once upon a time, watching a bunch of soldiers unquestioningly follow orders because they thought they had to to save the world would have struck him as tragic, but he has very little sympathy left to spare the wardens at adamant

yiseeril trevelyan: no strong feelings; yiseeril has an innate sympathy to those who do irrational things from a place of fear for their lives, so she lets the wardens stay in orlais, but she doesn't care about them beyond that

21. what is their biggest regret?

vidreu aeducan: defiling the urn of sacred ashes and having to kill leliana & wynne; dru doesn't share many personality traits with their younger brother but 'i always know what's best and thus i should not take into consideration the opinion or feelings of others except as a means to my own unassailable ends' is. one of them, at least at the beginning of the game. she's not cruel, just curious to see what defiling the ashes will do and careless wrt how that would affect her companions, whom she assumed would continue following her without question because what else were they going to do? stab her???

(thought seconds before being stabbed)

the regret is immediate, and though it does little good, they carry the dishonor of their actions that day for a long time, warming their cold pragmatism

cyrus hawke: every time he hasn't done enough to save someone. many such instances, but the one that gave him the most active and reckless grief was bethany being taken to the circle.

(everything that happened with anders is not the biggest regret, because it is so long and slow, this dull but constant ache and dead weight he drags with him for the rest of his life)

yiseeril trevelyan: she's never done anything wrong in her life, ever. i thought i might finally get her to regret something with the well of sorrows, but her only regret from that was that it upset sera, and they made up so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(we'll see if veilguard changes that...)

[arielbeaumont]

A letter was handed to Ariel Beaumont by one of the Withermore Husk’s appearing as a baphomet at the conclusion of the event announcing the new Council members, his name written in elegant script on cold stark white paper.

Ariel Beaumont, We were pleased to see you were able to deliver us not one but two applications and that both individuals were elected. We are glad both seem capable of taking a life when required and that magic on both their parts is not a prevalent strength. We were aware of your closeness to the Chevalier girl when you both resided at court however, and hope you will make sure she releases any anger she may potentially be holding onto for our court. How close are you with the other candidates? With the first meeting approaching it is important that you make sure the Chevalier girl accepts the offer we made to her. The council should know that Withermore residents should receive a higher standard of care than those from the other courts. We would also like for you to reach out to Kaitoa Rotbringer and suggest perhaps one of the best ways to limit law breaking within the city is to ban or, at the very least, limit magic, it is a dangerous thing that can ruin us. We trust you can get this done. King Alistar Vasiliev

An additional paper is attached to the first note from the King, penned instead by his younger sister, the smaller paper hidden within the larger.

Dearest Ariel, You are working well at doing what should be done to bring me to power. The young Chevalier girl with her distain for those of the court and the chaotic jester are wonderful additions. I will be sending you a gift shortly, once my brother is not watching me so often, but for now, inform both that they have my unyielding support without letting your co-hort Leopold Dawson discover your words. Do not take my brother’s advice. Do not inform Kaitoa Rotbringer that magic should be banned within the city. Myself and the women of the other courts were also able to convince leadership that the council held too masculine an energy and have instated a Herald of the Divine Feminine to aid the council with advice, you should make sure my letter was clear that she too has my personal support. Princess Royal Olesechka Vasiliev

Ariel read over both letters twice on the carriage ride home, a muscle jumping in his jaw each time he read the line about his friendship with Bellamy. It irked him that the king had noticed his fondness for her--and to suggest he ought to be working at her somehow, convincing her to forgive a court that had used her and then abandoned her.

This was why he did not often care to make friends. Ariel found himself less and less inclined to help the King keep his throne every day.

He went directly to his desk on arrival home to craft his replies; it would not do to keep the royals waiting, after all.

To His Most Gracious Majesty, King Alistar Vasiliev, King of Withermore, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the Realm, I thank you for your letter, and your generous advice. I am most gratified that my work thus far has pleased Your Majesty. As far as my relationships with the candidates, I am little acquainted with any of our new council--excepting, of course, Miss Chevalier, who Your Majesty so astutely remembers was quite dear to me at court. I will, of course, do all in my power to soothe any anger she still holds and remind her of Your Majesty's benevolence. I confess though, it has been many years since Miss Chevalier and I were acquainted, and I do not know how much sway I may hold. I will seek out Rotbringer with all haste, and seek to improve my relationships with the rest of the council, that I may better serve your will. I remain, with all devotion, Your Majesty's most humble, obedient, and faithful servant, Ariel Beaumont, Emissary to the Court of Withermore.

His lip curled slightly in distaste as he sealed the letter and all it's obsequiousness with wax and pressed his ring into it. At least now that he was away from court, he only had to lie to Alistair with his pen, and not his expressions.

To Her Royal Highness, Princess Royal Olesechka Vasiliev, You do me great honor with your kind words. I am most pleased that you approve of my candidates. It is my humble opinion that both could be valuable in pursuit of your goals. The jester, I think, could be quite... malleable. I wonder, Princess, if an olive branch of a sort might be offered to Miss Chevalier. May it please Your Highness, a reminder of what Withermore might be under your rule could go far. We blood drinkers are vengeful creatures, you understand. Your word is my command. It is, as ever, a privilege to serve the true Crown of Withermore. I remain your steadfast ally and friend, Ariel Beaumont

Another seal, and he sent them off. The second letter, at least, was not quite so nauseating to write. He would pass on the Princess Royal's support, he thought. Why not? Coups did not exactly lend themselves to peace time.

Mentioned: @bellamychevalier @merrymockthejester @leopold--dawson

[gellavonhamster]

reading the post-vulgate, part 1 (the merlin continuation)

"The eldest was called Gawain, the second Gaheriet, the third Agravain, and the fourth Guerrehet" no fucking way they're in a different order again. When will it end

if Merlin knows everything that will happen, why does he go on about how he won't tell Arthur who the knight destined to destroy the kingdom is because he doesn't want to kill a child? A lot more children are going to die because this bitch is refusing to be specific

finally Yvain is Morgan's son again, this was Bothering me

Mordred hit his head as an infant so hard that the scar remained for all his life. This is potential for his brothers making jokes in the vein of "and that's why he is like that" later

in this version, the father of Sagremor the Unruly is also called the Unruly, making it their surname, I guess, which is funny, even though at a later point in Chapter 59 the narrator changes his mind and says that it was Kay who gave Sagremor this nickname

big fan of the fact that Mordred and Sagremor are raised together - there's something cute about a doomed-by-the-narrative goth and a reckless fun guy being childhood friends. And then one of them kills the other :)))

oh, the May babies are rescued in this one! Nice

brief glimpses of some fairy drama as the lady who was girded with the sword that Balin could remove "owed allegiance to the lady called the Lady of the Isle of Avalon" and the one that wanted her killed for killing her father was the one that helped Arthur take Excalibur from the hand in the lake

"In this place will meet in battle the two most faithful lovers of their time" sounds like Lancelot and Tristan will be each other's lovers and the battle in question will be their meet-cute

"For [King Lot] is the one in my land in whom I would have trusted most in great need, and for whom I would have done most" buddy, you slept with his wife.

Gawain is eleven years old when he swears to kill Pellinor for killing his father! And the adults at the funeral praise him for such noble intentions! God!!!

yesss this version supports my headcanon that Yvain's animal-befriending powers are a result of Morgan experimenting with various magic while she was pregnant with him

seriously, would everything that eventually happens had ever happened if Merlin wasn't walking around telling people "you will kill him, and you will kill him, and one of these two boys you're raising will kill the other", thus making everyone think it's inevitable?

you know what would've made reading this easier and more enjoyable? If I cared about Balin

according to this one, there should be 150 Knights of the Round Table

I like that Guinevere is being referred to as "valiant"

"for no adventure that may happen, unless mortal peril is to come of it, may a knight who is sitting at table stir before he has eaten" is a good custom, more contemporary jobs should follow it

Tor's mom is great (loved it when she rebuked Merlin and everyone laughed) and I can't wait for Gawain to kill Pellinor

Kay being described as "a good enough knight, but not as good as the others" lmao

my brain refuses to perceive young Bademagu. This is a middle-aged man with (at least?) two adult children

“Now come forward and see a king’s daughter wield a sword” is one hell of a line

yelling @ the maiden/mother/crone ladies making fun of Gawain being short

I imagine Gaheris here speaking in a very patient voice that simultaneously verges on hysterics because he's so fucking exasperated

I thought this text might change my opinion on Gaheris for the better, but then the matricide part came, with "But it was his opinion that the lady should be blamed and humiliated" and "Then he put his hand on his sword and wished to kill his mother, but he would leave the knight, because he seemed too handsome and valiant, and he was disarmed", and nope, still hate that guy

like what the fuck is WRONG with you!!!

oh I am seething right now

"for they were tired, although they had not yet done anything" meeee

[amorelray]

Yuuta vs. Yuuji - A Costume/Character Analysis

❗Disclaimer❗ I have only watched up to Season 2 Ep. 19 & JJK 0 before writing this analysis. So, all of this will be from the knowledge that I have prior Shibuya. Additionally, for the sake of argument, we'll be focusing on their Jujutsu High uniforms. & Last but not least, all thoughts, ideas, & opinions are my own.

Before making any comparisons between Yuuji or Yuuta, I'd like to lay down the baseline for Jujutsu High students' uniforms.

Noticeably, the uniforms for the students tend to be all black/dark blue - with the exception of Panda. Each student's uniform is tailored to them and fitted in a way that fits their personality, need for movement, comfortability, etc. However, the uniform remains the same solid color across the board.

In fact, this is even reinforced when the viewer is taken back in time to witness Gojo's school days with Shoko and Geto. The classic uniform worn by the Jujutsu High students appears to have carried on from then until now. (See Picture Below👇🏻)

Yuuta:

I'd like to start with Yuuta because chronologically, he came before Yuuji and I believe setting him up first paves the way to speak a bit more in-depth about Yuuji.

Yuuta is set up as our hero from the get-go and we can see that through his uniform.

Typically, the color white is related to being "pure," "holy," "set apart," or "good."

At first, this seems counter-intuitive to what we know about Yuuta's backstory. He cursed a childhood friend who died and has been following him around as a very high-level curse ever since. How could that be any of the things associated with the color white? However, as we get to learn Yuuta's story - these words begin to relate to him time and time again.

First, he is set apart. He's the outsider. He's not from the Jujutsu world and only enters it when he's merely 16 years old. Whereas Inumaki is the child of a Jujutsu clan, Maki is a child of one of the most well-known Jujutsu clans, and Panda is quite literally a cursed doll. Thus, placing all 3 of his peers in a position of being born and raised inside this world. Second, we begin to discover time and time again that Yuuta is good. He has a kind soul who simply wants to help others and believes in his peers. He's gentle and wants to protect those who he cares about. Third, while he did curse Rika, it was from a pure emotion - love. Love is rarely seen as a "bad" thing in the world and while Yuuta unintentionally cursed her, it was out of a pure and naive mindset that the curse was accidentally enacted.

Which leads us to - "holy."

Definition via Google: dedicated or consecrated to God or a religious purpose; sacred.

This one lands on a personal theory of mine. Yuuta is the hero and has been set aside as the holy one via Gojo. Why do I say this?

Gojo fought for Yuuta to not be executed. (JJK 0)

Gojo will sometimes get involved with customizing his student's uniforms (Season 1 Ep. 3)

Gojo directly informs the elders that he will always side with Yuuta. ("If it comes to that...don't forget, I'm on Okkotsu's side." JJK 0)

Gojo believes that Yuuta is one of the few students who could someday surpass him. (Season 1 Ep. 6)

I believe that Yuuta was picked and set aside by Gojo to potentially fulfill something that even the audience might be unaware of at this point in time. We hear and see time and time again Yuuta being mentioned even when he's not around and that Gojo places a lot of faith in the student. Additionally, the teacher seems to place a different type of protection over Yuuta than he does for Yuuji.

Yuuji:

Yuuji has a uniform that closely resembles the typical style and color palette as the rest of the Jujutsu High students, but has a few pieces that set him apart.

Yuuji has a red hood and red wrists accompanying his otherwise generic uniform.

I believe the placement of these customized pieces along with the color red itself could be a very intentional decision in regard to Yuuji's character and his story inside of Jujutsu Kaisen.

Typically, the color red is associated with anger, power, and passion.

Starting with the hood. I believe this added piece could be a sort of representation of Sukuna being inside Itadori's head. While Sukuna is a curse and likely resides within all of Yuuji's body, it is likely widely understood that Yuuji lives with Sukuna subconsciously at all times. Thus, alluding to the hood that never covers Yuuji's head, but is always there, ready to be pulled up at any moment's notice. In the same way, Sukuna does not cloud Yuuji every moment but is always lurking in the background, waiting for an opening to surface.

I believe the wrist holes also point toward the hands of Sukuna as well. This could be in regards to both the fingers Yuuji continues to swallow and the way Sukuna uses Yuuji's body when he's in control. As a curse that used to have four hands, it's clear that they were important to him; and so, it's an interesting highlight on Yuuji's uniform knowing that.

However, aside from the hood and wrists, Itadori wears the typical uniform colors; which is likely there to symbolize that he's "just another normal student."

So, while those few things do set him apart from the others - it could be theorized that they're there not to set him apart as Yuuji but instead what resides inside of him - thus, Sukuna.

My Personal Theory/Opinions:

I believe Yuuji is important as the main character. However, I believe his costume tells a story that the audience might not necessarily enjoy.

While he has a little flair and is set apart from the rest of the students due to his pop of color and uniform style, it's definitely a reminder that Sukuna is what sets him apart - unlike Yuuta.

Yuuta is what sets Yuuta apart as he's made a name for himself on his merit alone. Thus, giving him such a drastically different uniform compared to any of the other students makes sense. Whereas Yuuji is very much an outsider on borrowed time/magic - making him a bit more "normal" in this regard.

I believe both characters have enough "differences" to set them apart as "important players" in the overarching story of Jujutsu Kaisen. I simply wanted to sit down and enjoy breaking down the potential implications/signals that could be coming from the way they are both costumed as these "important players."

💭Final Thoughts:

It's my personal belief that costumes/uniforms/clothing and colors play an important role in telling stories. They're good ways to signal information to an audience without having to spell everything out. As well as being good ways to subtly hint at something about a character, story, or plotline.

Hope you all enjoyed it! It was really fun breaking this down and theorizing the implications of the colors, customization, etc! It's really exciting to think about how these two mirror each other and complement and contrast one another. Quite frequently, I find myself thinking of them as two sides of the same coin and it's just boundless theories, strings, and ideas being pulled together to see how they relate both in characterization and fitting into the plot.

I'm sure there will be more analysis to come! Just be on the lookout!

[ongolecharles]

DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS (DSR) 📚 Group, Fri June 07th, 2024 ... Thursday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time, Year B/Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

Reading 1

____________

Hos 11:1, 3-4, 8c-9

Thus says the LORD:

When Israel was a child I loved him,

out of Egypt I called my son.

Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk,

who took them in my arms;

I drew them with human cords,

with bands of love;

I fostered them like one

who raises an infant to his cheeks;

Yet, though I stooped to feed my child,

they did not know that I was their healer.

My heart is overwhelmed,

my pity is stirred.

I will not give vent to my blazing anger,

I will not destroy Ephraim again;

For I am God and not a man,

the Holy One present among you;

I will not let the flames consume you.

Responsorial Psalm

______________

Is 12:2-3, 4, 5-6.

R. (3) You will draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.

God indeed is my savior;

I am confident and unafraid.

My strength and my courage is the LORD,

and he has been my savior.

With joy you will draw water

at the fountain of salvation.

R. You will draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.

Give thanks to the LORD, acclaim his name;

among the nations make known his deeds,

proclaim how exalted is his name.

R. You will draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.

Sing praise to the LORD for his glorious achievement;

let this be known throughout all the earth.

Shout with exultation, O city of Zion,

for great in your midst

is the Holy One of Israel!

R. You will draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.

Reading 2

____________

Eph 3:8-12, 14-19

Brothers and sisters:

To me, the very least of all the holy ones, this grace was given,

to preach to the Gentiles the inscrutable riches of Christ,

and to bring to light for all what is the plan of the mystery

hidden from ages past in God who created all things,

so that the manifold wisdom of God

might now be made known through the church

to the principalities and authorities in the heavens.

This was according to the eternal purpose

that he accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord,

in whom we have boldness of speech

and confidence of access through faith in him.

For this reason I kneel before the Father,

from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,

that he may grant you in accord with the riches of his glory

to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner self,

and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith;

that you, rooted and grounded in love,

may have strength to comprehend with all the holy ones

what is the breadth and length and height and depth,

and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge,

so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Alleluia

________

Mt 11:29ab

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Take my yoke upon you, says the Lord;

and learn from me, for I am meek and gentle of heart.

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Or

_________

1 Jn 4:10b

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

God first loved us

and sent his Son as expiation for our sins.

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

________

Jn 19:31-37

Since it was preparation day,

in order that the bodies might not remain on the cross on the sabbath,

for the sabbath day of that week was a solemn one,

the Jews asked Pilate that their legs be broken

and they be taken down.

So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first

and then of the other one who was crucified with Jesus.

But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead,

they did not break his legs,

but one soldier thrust his lance into his side,

and immediately blood and water flowed out.

An eyewitness has testified, and his testimony is true;

he knows that he is speaking the truth,

so that you also may come to believe.

For this happened so that the Scripture passage might be fulfilled:

Not a bone of it will be broken.

And again another passage says:

They will look upon him whom they have pierced.

***

FOCUS AND LITURGY OF THE WORD

One just has to open a newspaper today or watch the daily news to see a plethora of examples where the world’s darkness reveals that the light of God’s love needs to be shone more brightly. In the spirit that lives within all of us, we too may hold onto a heavy-hearted darkness about ourselves, or places where there may be stumbling blocks to God’s love truly finding a home in our hearts.  So, to celebrate a day of unconditional love, a sacred love, flowing forth from the heart of Jesus, is a devotion and a day of solemnity that brings hope to our world and a joy to our hearts.

I would like to reflect a bit on why this solemnity of the Sacred Heart is a dear devotion for me and a devotion to which I owe my vocation to the priesthood recall the genesis of this devotion, and why for us it is a solemn day of celebration and a transforming devotion that will change our hearts and the heart of our world for good, for God. 

First, a personal story. When I was a young boy, our home parish, Immaculate Conception in Waukegan, Illinois, had to the left of the Altar, a huge mosaic to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I used to love to sit in front of that piece of art and was mesmerized in the connection between the love that Christ had in his eyes and the love that that exposed heart symbolized.

Second, all celebrations, like this solemnity, have their beginnings. This story, is all about heart, the heart of a nun’s story, the heart of the Jesuit’s story.  heart of our story. First, the heart of a nun’s story. The place was the Visitation convent at Paray-le-Monial in France. Between 1673 and 1675, our Lord appeared three times to a contemplative nun, Margaret Mary Alacoque, showed her his heart. In the first appearance, Jesus commissioned her to spread devotion to his sacred heart. In the second, he asked for Holy Communion and a Holy Hour of Reparation.

Third, during the octave of Corpus Christi in 1675, Jesus asked her to see a special feast established in reparation to his heart for the injuries done it. He added: "Go to my servant the Jesuit Father, Claude de La Colombiére and tell him from me to do all in his power to establish this devotion and give this pleasure to my heart." And Claude did "all in his power." The young Jesuit whom Jesus identified to Margaret Mary as "my faithful servant and perfect friend" preached the devotion to the end of his short life. (source: https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/the-revelation-of-the-sacred-heart-of-jesus-paral-le-monial-france-13719.

This devotion remains a devotion that is promoted and defended in the Society of Jesus to this day.  even though celebrated with remains alive in the Society.  In a more recent Jesuit General Congregation (General Congregation 35, 2008) the Jesuits stressed and emphasized promoting Christ’s sacred heart when it proclaims, “Nothing could be more desirable and more urgent today, since the heart of Christ burns with love for this world, with all its troubles, and seeks companions who can serve it with him.”

And finally, Christ’s sacred heart and us. And so, what’s wrong with a little devotion, why has it become an outmoded practice. The word devotion is a word of affection, of love, of knowing that someone is so in love with us they are devoted to us, and in return we, in our love for them, and the things that represent them, like the Sacred Heart of Jesus, we are so in love, so devoted to them.  So, the heart of Christ, as well as our own hearts, symbolizes something wonderful, something that is about the lifeblood flowing through our veins yes, but also, of what is and should be the heart of our faith, the heart of our very life, and this, this is love divine.

For love has the power to transform our very lives, to transform our world, in radical and wonderful ways, away from our own brokenness and need for healing, and into those places in this world that still live in darkness, oppression, hatred, and injustice, so that these places, these hearts of ours can feel too love’s clear promise of heaven.  We recollect this image of Christ’s sacred heart, and see there a love given freely, a love fraught with all meaning, and see Christ’s love encouraging us to be brave, to not be afraid, for it’s only love after all.

***

SAINT OF THE DAY

Bl. Franz Jagerstatter

(May 20, 1907 – August 9, 1943)

Blessed Franz Jägerstätter’s Story

Called to fight for his country as a Nazi soldier, Franz eventually refused, and this husband and father of three daughters—Rosalie, Marie and Aloisia—was executed because of it.

Born in St. Radegund in Upper Austria, Franz lost his father during World War I and was adopted after Heinrich Jaegerstaetter married Rosalia Huber. As a young man, he loved to ride his motorcycle and was the natural leader of a gang whose members were arrested in 1934 for brawling. For three years he worked in the mines in another city and then returned to St. Radegund, where he became a farmer, married Franziska and lived his faith with quiet but intense conviction.

In 1938, he publicly opposed the German Anschluss–annexation–of Austria. The next year he was drafted into the Austrian army, trained for seven months and then received a deferment. In 1940, Franz was called up again but allowed to return home at the request of the town’s mayor. He was in active service between October 1940 and April 1941, but was again deferred. His pastor, other priests, and the bishop of Linz urged him not to refuse to serve if drafted.

In February 1943, Franz was called up again and reported to army officials in Enns, Austria. When he refused to take the oath of loyalty to Hitler, he was imprisoned in Linz. Later he volunteered to serve in the medical corps but was not assigned there.

During Holy Week Franz wrote to his wife: “Easter is coming and, if it should be God’s will that we can never again in this world celebrate Easter together in our intimate family circle, we can still look ahead in the happy confidence that, when the eternal Easter morning dawns, no one in our family circle shall be missing—so we can then be permitted to rejoice together forever.” He was transferred in May to a prison in Berlin.

Challenged by his attorney that other Catholics were serving in the army, Franz responded, “I can only act on my own conscience. I do not judge anyone. I can only judge myself.” He continued, “I have considered my family. I have prayed and put myself and my family in God’s hands. I know that, if I do what I think God wants me to do, he will take care of my family.”

On August 8, 1943, Franz wrote to Fransizka: “Dear wife and mother, I thank you once more from my heart for everything that you have done for me in my lifetime, for all the sacrifices that you have borne for me. I beg you to forgive me if I have hurt or offended you, just as I have forgiven everything…My heartfelt greetings for my dear children. I will surely beg the dear God, if I am permitted to enter heaven soon, that he will set aside a little place in heaven for all of you.”

Franz was beheaded and cremated the following day. In 1946, his ashes were reburied in St. Radegund near a memorial inscribed with his name and the names of almost 60 village men who died during their military service. He was beatified in Linz on October 26, 2007. His “spiritual testament” is now in Rome’s St. Bartholomew Church as part of a shrine to 20th-century martyrs for their faith. Blessed Franz’s liturgical feast is celebrated on August 9.

***

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