#as if you're betraying your kind and gentle mother. but she isn't there. so you take what you can

[blackknight-100]

I'm absolutely obsessed with how mythology portrays parent-child relationships, especially when at least one divine party is involved. I've talked about Karna and Arjuna's relationship with their fathers, and how it might tie up to their characters and situations, and the Mahabharata as a whole, but they're not the only ones! Speaking exclusively about father-son dynamics in this post, and we have a lot of them!

You have Yudhisthira, whose father Yama/Dharma shows up in his son's mortal life twice (iirc), gives him a 20 min quiz each time and then tells him that no son, we don't allow dogs in heaven (which, how dare, but we all have that one parent). This is so in line with Yudhisthira's arc, poor man that he is, having to spend his whole life finding answers to questions about righteousness and honour, losing his friends, brothers, wife and children in the process.

Rama-Dasharatha and Ganesha-Shiva are pretty straightforward - there's plenty of mutual love and respect despite the horrors ™️ , but then there is Rama and Luv-Kush. If you're counting the Uttar Kand, then these boys literally saw their mother die because there father could not stop questioning her honour. That has to mess with your head. There's no way it's a happily ever after story.

Another man who interests me greatly is Yayati. Like sir... what were you doing. Who grows old and thinks, "You know what would be great? Me borrowing my son's youth" and then curses them when they refuse? What were you thinking. What were your kids thinking. I need to take your heads apart with a scalpel, this is so incredibly insane. A father should give to his children - the only thing this man "gave" was to spare Puru from his curse.

You have Bhishma and Shantanu, another wild story. I understand that Bhishma chose to give up his birthright to make Shantanu happy, but can you actually tell me Shantanu wasn't at least somewhat interested in the plan? Shantanu is Bhishma's father, it's his job to stop him from doing things like this. I feel like pulling my hair out everytime I think of this. You can tell that Bhishma was afraid for his father's well-being when he made this decision, and that so... unfair.

On the other end of the spectrum are Krishna and Vasudeva, who are wholesome to the point of despair. Vasudeva giving up his everything just to get his boy out of prison?? Waiting years and years for him, but never lamenting or cursing Krishna for not coming fast enough??? That's peak fatherhood (Shantanu take lessons). And Krishna honours that sacrifice!! He comes from idyllic Vrindavan, slays the tormentor of his parents and rips the bars of their prison!!! And that old married couple trapped within those dank, dreary walls, with no one except the other for company, watches their godly son turn up to free them and show them the sky for the first time in more than a decade - the thought of it brings me to tears. Possibly the only part I like about the change from baby!Krishna to adult!Krishna is his reunion with Vasudeva and Devaki!

Oh, and last but not least, our favourite problematic pair: Jamadagni and sons. I'm slightly terrified by how Jamadagni was like "kill your mother for me she's sinful >:(" and when four sons refused, he actually killed them. HIS OWN SONS! Admittedly, in some versions he asks Parashuram to do the killing but like... those are his brothers. Who probably swaddled him and rocked him and fed him and played with him. And all this is presumably happening right in front of Renuka. And then Parashuram has to kill his mother as well, unless he wants to be a heap of ashes.

(In some versions, including the one I've always heard as a child, Parashuram is said to be "aware of" his father's immense power, which just seems to me a really polite way to say that Parashuram knew disobeying his father had consequences ™️ that weren't always right or rational)

Worse, after the killing is done, Jamadagni is so pleased he offers Parashuram a boon, presumably with the remains of the rest of his family still nearby, and when Parashuram asks for his mother and brother to be revived, Jamadagni is all like "ooh actually I got really angry, I think I'm going to renounce rage forever. Dw btw your brothers and mother forgot you killed them you're welcome <3"

Sir??? This is what you got out of the whole issue???? No wonder Parashuram killed a whole bunch of kings, this couldn't have been healthy.

[tigresslovescolors]

There is an unexplainable emptiness that I feel. In strangers, in friends, and in myself; There is only emptiness; And I do not feel things a human should; There's only irritation and spite and rage and anger and hatred I have for these people called "humans"; The mask that I wear seeps into my skin, fuses with what exists The porcelain is breaking. My emotions tip, tip, tip forward; it, too, will break.

this. is a bit too relatable ria.

God, what has happened to your creation? Why do I burn with the fires of hell, on earth still? God, why am I alive if I feel your eternal damnation without death? If death is hell, and being alive is being scorned by the fire then isn't it all the same? God, have mercy on your humans on humanity on me; on the person I claim to be My family, my protectors betrayed me more than anyone I have ever known My father's anger and my mother's sadness all bubble up inside me like the raging fires of hell twisting, turning, hurting.

"God, why am i alive if i feel your eternal damnation without death?" i. dont even know what to say/pos

"God, have mercy on your humans..... turning, hurting." I AM GOING TO BASH MY HEAD INTO THE WALL

God, what has happened to your creation? Humanity has failed me, and I belong to them And soon I will belong to the earth the cold, dark soil seeping into my porcelain Holding my body with a mother's touch gentle, reassuring, loving A welcoming embrace of a mother I have had She has no face No genuine smile No permanent frown Just arms. They hit, they hold, they hurt. And then they disappear into the smoke I remind her of her husband this is why I am a wound to her, and why this house is a cage for her.

God, what has happened to your creation? Where is my happiness? Where is my sadness? Why can't I feel? I am not numb; but I do not feel what they do I lack an aspect of humanity you had perfectly cut out; Am I your creation at all? Do I belong to you? Do I belong to the paradise you promise me? Do I belong to the fires I have lived through my whole life? Why do you forsake me, o Lord? I only truly wish to belong To you, to myself, to something I've only really learned for an unconditional love I've only really yearned for a father A mother A family.

should i be concerned. for both of us. because this i love this part the most. a bit too mucj actually (i want this injected in my veins)

God, what has happened to your creation? When dusk arrives I yearn for a pair that has never been mine She is cruel, and dark, and cold She is like my father And acts like my mother Born of the same tree but not of the same kind; Something I cannot understand, bound to me by blood. Something she cannot understand Bound to me by blood, by time, by words and we both feel lonely in our obligation to be by each other's side.

for this part i have like 2 perspectives. one, you're talking about your sibling. your sister perhaps? the second: you're talking about the side of yourself you hide. i think its the former but i could be wrong

also i really love the repetition of the line "God, what has happened to your creation?" it emphasises that you were born right, but turned out wrong. also the title of the poem, "my god, why have you forsaken me?" implies that God gave up on you because there is something wrong with you. something so wrong that even he could not bear to witness it. the title puts more emphasis on the above line ("God, what had happened to your creation?") its as if even you yourself don't know how you turned out to be this wrong

I'd love to give you a poetry analysis. (like the one i do for school poems). but i have to study for tmrws maths exam rahhh.

my god, why have you forsaken me?

tw. religious themes. not meant to offend religion in any way. implied abuse. bruises, scars, mentioned. very long (660 words). uhhh i wrote this while breaking down <3

There is an unexplainable emptiness that I feel. In strangers, in friends, and in myself; There is only emptiness; And I do not feel things a human should; There's only irritation and spite and rage and anger and hatred I have for these people called "humans"; The mask that I wear seeps into my skin, fuses with what exists The porcelain is breaking. My emotions tip, tip, tip forward; it, too, will break.

God, what has happened to your creation? Why do I burn with the fires of hell, on earth still? God, why am I alive if I feel your eternal damnation without death? If death is hell, and being alive is being scorned by the fire then isn't it all the same? God, have mercy on your humans on humanity on me; on the person I claim to be My family, my protectors betrayed me more than anyone I have ever known My father's anger and my mother's sadness all bubble up inside me like the raging fires of hell twisting, turning, hurting.

God, what has happened to your creation? Humanity has failed me, and I belong to them And soon I will belong to the earth the cold, dark soil seeping into my porcelain Holding my body with a mother's touch gentle, reassuring, loving A welcoming embrace of a mother I have had She has no face No genuine smile No permanent frown Just arms. They hit, they hold, they hurt. And then they disappear into the smoke I remind her of her husband this is why I am a wound to her, and why this house is a cage for her.

God, what has happened to your creation? Where is my happiness? Where is my sadness? Why can't I feel? I am not numb; but I do not feel what they do I lack an aspect of humanity you had perfectly cut out; Am I your creation at all? Do I belong to you? Do I belong to the paradise you promise me? Do I belong to the fires I have lived through my whole life? Why do you forsake me, o Lord? I only truly wish to belong To you, to myself, to something I've only really learned for an unconditional love I've only really yearned for a father A mother A family.

God, what has happened to your creation? When dusk arrives I yearn for a pair that has never been mine She is cruel, and dark, and cold She is like my father And acts like my mother Born of the same tree but not of the same kind; Something I cannot understand, bound to me by blood. Something she cannot understand Bound to me by blood, by time, by words and we both feel lonely in our obligation to be by each other's side.

God, what has happened to your creation? I feel I am failing in everything that qualifies me as alive My breathing is ragged, as if I am a newborn but my bruises have been on my skin for hundreds, thousands of years Like these scratches and scars and marks were meant for me. There is an anger in my heart It has been holding my hand since the day I was conceived It has touched and defiled every single part of me.

God, what has happened to your creation? Why am I still trapped in my mortal skin when I have always yearned for things bigger than I will ever be? The serpent has never been able to reach me Because I was born greater than it At the price of being lower than everyone around me. Everyone, everything, I am lower than the spit of the scum of the earth, and higher than the stars that shine in paradise. God, will I always be this lonely? Will I always feel this way? Will I ever let myself get better? Why can't I be loved and feared, like you?

---

tags: @thegolden-tigeress <- how do you feel after reading this pooks LMAO

[julek]

Yennskier for things you said in your sleep please?

read on ao3

Yennefer's raspy, morning voice is the first thing Jaskier hears when he wakes up.

"Morning," she says with a smile on her lips, slow and sweet.

He squints one eye at her, trying to focus her face. Soft, brown skin kissed by light in some places, obscured by the darkness of their bedroom in others. A bit blurry at the edges still, because Jaskier isn't wearing his glasses, but beautiful nonetheless.

"Morning," he replies with a smile of his own. "'Time 's it?"

"Too early."

"Mmm," Jaskier considers, closing his eyes again. "Then why are we up?"

Her laugh is light. "Comes with old age, I suppose."

He scrunches up his nose in distaste. "Which is something only you would know, you old... old..."

"Yes?" Yennefer says, and he can hear the smug smile in her voice.

He clicks his tongue. "You get what I mean. Point is, you're old and decrepit, I'm young and beautiful. Everyone knows this."

Yennefer tickles the side of his neck, making him squirm. "I'm only a month older than you," she says, "and that's probably only because you wanted to stay in the womb for too long. Your poor mother."

Jaskier hides from her mean, tickling fingers, putting a pillow wall between them. "I'm a delight. A luxury few can afford."

She looks at him upside down inquisitively, probably seeing a bit of drool on his cheek, and his mussed-up bed hair, propping her head on her hand. "Mm-hm."

"God truly gives bread to those with no teeth," Jaskier grumbles, even as he takes down his pillow wall and wiggles closer to her. "You should appreciate me more, you know. Many would die to see me in this state."

"Mm-hm," she says again. "You know." She brushes a loose strand of his hair back. "You said some interesting things in your sleep, luxury boy."

Her tone is playful and light, but it gives him pause, and he can feel a slow blush creeping up his neck. The remnants of his dream are fuzzy and vague, but there's a feeling of warmth to it, the way there is when it's a good one. He can be almost sure Yen was in it — she's in all of them, these days — and he can be a bit more sure that whatever he said, it wasn't anything bad, anything incriminating. But... what if his traitorous mouth betrayed him once more, this time knee-deep in dreams, and he gave himself away?

But there's a small smile in Yen's smile as she patiently waits for his answer, and the light is gentle on her skin, and he's not afraid anymore. He can't be, when she's looking at him like that.

"I did?" He says casually.

"You did."

He hums, his hand coming up to rest on her side. "And what did I say?"

She's flustered, for once, a sheepish smile on her face. "My name, a couple of times. 'S how I woke up."

"Sorry."

She shakes her head. "And then... well. You had this really big smile on your face. Kind of ridiculous, truly," she laughs. "And you said... you said, Yen... Yeah, I'm in love with her."

Jaskier nods slowly, taking it in. He doesn't doubt he slurred it in his sleep.

It's the truth, after all.

But suddenly Yen looks apologetic, and she's saying, "I know that's— I know you probably didn't—"

"I meant it," he says before she can go on. "I mean it."

"Jaskier," she says, but it sounds like please don't, and her voice breaks a little.

Moving closer to her, closer to her heart, he takes her hands in his, and looks her in the eyes with all the honesty he can project, even though, back when he was stupid and in love and still thinking she was out of his reach, he once said looking into her eyes so directly would turn one into stone.

He musters up the courage of that stupid, less-elevated version of himself, and says, "I love you. I'm in love with you." She squeezes his hands once. "Have been for... almost the entirety of the time I've known you."

She laughs brokenly. "Jaskier, we met years ago."

"It's the truth," he shrugs. "And you don't have to say it back. Now, or ever, or—"

"Me too," she says, slapping her hand on his mouth to keep him from talking himself into a tangle. "I mean, uh— yes. Me too. I love you too." She takes her hand back, and before he can open his mouth, she says, "and if you even dare to make fun of my ineloquence in this very fragile, very intimate moment, I will hang you from the biggest flagpole I can find— and before you make a comment on how you have a flagpole right here—"

"I love you," Jaskier blurts, almost without meaning to, because here's this marvelous woman, in his bed, in his shitty apartment, bathed in the early morning light, saying she loves him too and threatening to kill him in the same sentence, and how could he not? "I love you. You know me so well."

Her smile is fond. "Unfortunately."

Their noses touch when he moves forward, and he grins. "No take backs."

"Wouldn't want to," she says, and kisses him.

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is chapter 20, the finale to this series. After welcoming your miracle baby girl you have the family that you've always wanted.

Two gorgeous kids, a loving husband, what more could you ask for?

Will this be the happy ending you've always wanted or will fate deal you another cruel blow?

Warnings, angst, smut, squirting, female receiving oral sex, not for anyone under 18.

20+years earlier, Yavin 4

Even as teenagers you had always sensed that there was a deep bond between you and Poe.

It was a unique bond that transcended time. It felt almost mystical. Surreal in a truly beautiful way.

Your parents never tried to discourage your relationship because even they knew, and could see, the tender love that was shared between the two of you.

It was a love that truly only came around once in a lifetime.

Late one night you're tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, when you hear a gentle knock at your bedroom window.

You immediately turn on your bedside lamp, and see the smiling face of your boyfriend.

You jump out of bed and open the window. You grab his arm and pull him inside your room.

"What are you doing here you dork? It's almost 4 in the morning". You tease with a slight laugh as you help him up.

"I sensed that you couldn't sleep, so I brought you these". Poe replied softly with a slight smile as he presented you with a small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers.

"Oh Poe, that's so sweet". You tell him with a smile as you plant a soft kiss on his lips. "You're truly something else".

"Let's sneak out and go to our favorite spot". Poe whispered into you ear as he kissed your neck. "I want to cuddle you and look at the stars".

You quickly get dressed and the two of you quietly sneak out of your bedroom window.

Once at the spot overlooking the ancient temple the two of you relax on the damp, cool grass.

It seemed like there were a million stars in the sky that night.

You playfully climb on top of Poe and start to kiss him. The two of you roll around a little, making out and playfully wrestling.

Poe finally pinned you down, with a giggle you say,

"Oh no, looks like you win, what do you want the prize to be?"

"You". Poe replied quickly, smiling wickedly and passionately kissing you on the lips.

You unbutton your shirt a little, revealing your bare breasts. The tightness in a particular area of his pants betrays the fact that Poe is more than ready for you.

Poe kissed all the way down to your bellybutton, you removed the belt to your pants and he unzipped them for you, revealing your soaked panties.

With a quick kick your pants are off and on the ground. His head immediately went between your legs and he started to lick your clit through your underwear, making you close your eyes and cuss.

Poe slid three fingers inside of your tight hole as he nibbled on and sucked your swollen clit.

Your underwear quickly came off next.

It must have been a combination of the cool, damp grass against your bare skin and the intense pleasure he was treating your body to but you could feel your legs start to tremble and shake.

Your tightness gripped onto his fingers, gave them a squeeze and then gushed warm fluid all over him.

"Wow". Poe said softly as he gently removed his fingers from inside your body, softly stroking your clit and inner lips with his thumb. "That was really hot".

As your legs continued to tremble Poe began to lick your inner lips, teasing and pulling on them gently with his soft lips.

As you relaxed on the cool grass, nude and looking up at the millions of stars, Poe took his clothes off and climbed on top of you.

Because you were so wet his thick cock slid easily inside of your warmth.

"Poe". You whimper softly, closing your eyes and savoring the pleasurable sensation of your bodies connected together.

"I love you forever". Poe whispered into your ear as he leaned down and gave your neck a playful nibble.

Afterwards, just as he had promised, Poe cuddled with you under the stars.

As he's holding you tight in his strong arms you kiss him and ask,

"How did you know that I couldn't sleep?"

"I don't know". Poe replied with a laugh as he kissed you back. "That's what is so weird about it".

Present day

Whenever you're not doing well your mind wanders off and you recount the delightful memories with Poe.

You were able to return home with your baby girl two days later.

You're sore, and exhausted and weak, unbelievably weak. You can barely muster enough energy to even roll over on your back.

Poe was worried about you, this wasn't normal and he could sense it.

It was almost like you were slowly fading away, keeping your eyes open was a difficult task, it was like your body was finally giving up.

Poe had been taking care of his newborn daughter and now nearly 5 year old son by himself and he was at the end of his rope.

Your friend Esmaria came over to help.

"Poe, how is she doing?" She immediately asked.

"Not very well". Poe explained, with tears in his eyes as he snuggled his infant daughter. "She can barely move or keep her eyes open".

"I'm sure she'll be okay". Esmaria told him as she gave Poe a hug.

"I think we need to get her back to the doctor". Poe explained as he continued to snuggle little Kya, giving her a little kiss on the forehead. "But she's being hard headed and won't go".

"Ugh, typical y/n". Esmaria told him with a deep sigh as she shook her head a little. "I think she's just depressed after having the baby".

Poe pulled up a chair next to your bedside and held your hand in his. The look on his face was a mixture of heartache and worry.

"Are you feeling any better?" Poe asked, leaning down and kissing you softly on the forehead.

"Not really". You reply weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked again, tears streaming down his face. "Anything to make you more comfortable?"

"Poe, I think this is it". You tell him tearfully. "I think I'm dying".

"No, no, don't say that". He replied back quickly, shaking his head as he kissed your frail hand. "It can't be, it won't be, we can get you back to the doctor".

"I love you Poe". You tell him softly as you struggled to keep your eyes open. "I love our son and daughter too. Take care of them for me".

"Please don't leave us". Poe begged softly as he continued to hold your hand. "We were supposed to grow old together, remember?"

With a weak smile on your face you mouth I love you to your husband one last time as you close your eyes and drift away forever.

Ten years later

"What was mom like? Dad?"

"She looked a lot like you, I guess, with a different hair and eye color".

It was a full decade since you died. Poe was with your now 10 year old daughter in Yavin 4, who looked a lot like you only with her father's hair, skin and eye color.

Kya was 3 days old when you passed away. The older she got the more she would ask questions about her mother.

Poe told her what he could, but it was still extremely difficult to talk about you. He thought about you, his soulmate, constantly, and wondered what you would be like today.

Poe was in his mid 50's now, his once dark hair was mostly gray except for a few stray strands.

He had fully embraced the silver fox look and had aged gracefully. Poe was very distinguished looking.

He was still the leader of the black squadron.

Boe was a handsome, muscular 15 year old who was the direct image of his father. He was also into flying, adventure and getting into a little bit of trouble.

The girls loved him but he didn't have one steady girlfriend yet.

Kya was a beautiful, intelligent 10 year old whose interests included music and writing. She was a quiet introvert.

Esmaria, your best friend, had become Poe's second wife. She was an excellent stepmother and your children loved her.

Poe was visiting your grave with Kya. He was attempting to tell her all about you but it was still difficult for him.

He felt like half of his soul was gone. Poe loved Esmaria yes, but to him it was a different kind of love.

It lacked the passion, depth and intensity that the two of you had shared.

Kya went off by herself, leaving her father alone at your burial site.

"I miss you everyday". Poe confessed tearfully as he leaned down to clean off your headstone. "It still hurts like it was yesterday".

"Thank you for the beautiful kids, they're a pain in the ass sometimes but most of the time they're great". Poe continued, laughing a little. "Kya looks just like you, she's beautiful. Boe looks like me".

He left your family cemetery and headed to your favorite spot that overlooked the rainforest and temple.

Poe relaxed on the cool grass and with tears in his eyes imagined you next to him, cuddling him, kissing him.

When he opened his eyes you were right there, a figment of his imagination perhaps? But it looked so much like you.

Your image was solid, just like a real person. And your skin was soft and warm.

The memories came flooding back. The Summer days spent as teenagers, him consoling you after losing your parents, the day he found out that he was going to be a father.

You looked young, beautiful and healthy. Poe leaned over and kissed you tenderly, and with a huge smile on his face said,

"Y/n, things haven't been the same without you, I think about you every day".

"Poe, I didn't want to leave but I was sick and my body gave out". You explained, smiling a little. "I'm no longer in pain now".

"We were supposed to grow old together but I'm the only one that got old". Poe told you with a slight laugh.

"It isn't fair".

"I have to go now". You told him as you shared a final kiss. "But please tell Esmaria thank you for raising our children".

"I will". Poe told you with a weak smile as he stroked your soft cheek. "Goodbye".

With those final words you are gone again. The tears continued to stream down his face as he realized that you weren't coming back.

"Dad! There you are! We were looking all over for you".

The tranquil calm was interrupted by Boe and Kya, who had been looking for their father all afternoon.

Boe gave his father a huge bear hug, with a slight smile on his face Poe told them,

"I needed some alone time, I hope you kids didn't get into any trouble".

"Nah dad, I was just showing Ky around the temple". Boe replied quickly, smiling a little. "I think we're ready to go now".

Poe hugged his daughter tight, smiled and said,

"Your mother would be so proud of you two".

The end

[of-the-moors]

So I've been thinking about the whole Maleficent movie + sequel = 'feels like a trilogy but may never be because M:MOE was kind of a disappointment' thing.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed M:MOE from an entertainment perspective. It had some funny moments, and some touching moments, and Angelina Jolie and Michelle Pfeiffer (which I always want to pronounce 'Per-FIFF-er' for shits and giggles) are an electric combination. Sam Riley, as usual, managed to convey more with eyebrow twitches and eye movements than his lines alone would suggest. Elle Fanning is once again a delight.

But.

BUT.

What the actual fuck was up with that storyline?

News just in: there's nothing wrong with a gentle fairytale. A movie doesn't HAVE to end with an epic MCU-inspired megabattle. Yawn. Been there, seen that.

So the first movie is character-driven. Maleficent is a sweet and innocent little soul, she's betrayed and violated by someone that she has chosen to trust, it fucks her up, she knee-jerk retaliates, feels vindicated, then over the course of the movie comes to realise that she may have gone overboard etc. By the end of the movie, she's not back as she was, but she's a better version of herself that she was sixteen years earlier.

She has agency. She makes her own choices. She is beholden to nobody, except on occasion, the moral questions of her servant (more on Diaval later).

Aurora doesn't really have much of a say in anything, other than her choice to go to the castle, but it could be argued that it wasn't so much her CHOICE as the curse playing out. Either way, it's not really relevant, as she's barely more than a child and doesn't know her arse from her elbow.

The end of the first movie wrapped everything up quite nicely, and a sequel wasn't strictly necessary.

The thing is, if you're going to make a sequel, you owe it to the original movie to not cock it up.

The tone just wasn't the same, for starters. It was very much a Mega Worldbuilding CGI Wank, as compared to the insular and gentler tone of the first film. I mean, Maleficent had a main cast of just seven people, and that includes Phillip who only had a handful of scenes. The cast of M:MOE blew WAY out. It changed the tone, and not for the better.

Why introduce the Dark Fey at all?

Are we seriously to believe that the entire population of Maleficent's race, less herself, have been living a hundred clicks off the coast of Ulstead all of this time, and yet they let Maleficent - who apparently is like their queen or something? - grow up an orphan in the Moors? Um, collecting her and taking her back to be with her own kind would have taken what, an hour?

If you're going to introduce a situation like that, at least have the decency to explain it and close the gaping plot hole. One line would have sufficed. "Your parents chose to leave the sanctuary. By the time we realised that they had been killed, it was too late to bring you back - too late to take you from the only home you had ever known. So we have watched over you instead, ever since."

Wow, and I'm not even a script writer.

And the war. I mean, really? Ingrith is a psychopath - a genocidal maniac, to use Angelina Jolie's words - and she wants to kill off the entire population of the Moors. Um, okay. I get the feeling that the Dark Fey retcon was conceived as a handy plot device to spawn a Big Battle Scene, and the implications of that were ill-considered.

At least they didn't go and pair Maleficent up with one of them. I know that there was implication with both Conall and Borra, but at least it wasn't overt. You can't have one who was burned by love to the degree that Maleficent was suddenly falling in love with a relative stranger in a matter of days; it's beyond out of character. So thanks, folks, for refraining from that particular trope.

Then there's Maleficent's agency. She was very much a reactive protagonist, and made very few decisions of her own will. Is she even still Maleficent?

There was so much wasted potential.

The first movie had a character who, through the actions of another, no longer believed in true love. By the end of the movie, she believed in true love in the sense of filial love. Romantic love, no, that was still tosh, but the love of a mother for a daughter? Oh yes, that existed.

The second movie SHOULD have expanded on this, using the wedding of Aurora and Phillip as the catalyst for further growth and acceptance on the part of Maleficent. The movie we got does, in a way, come to the same place - Maleficent accepts that romantic true love exists, albeit not for her - but it feels entirely secondary to the Great Big Battle. It was messy. So, so messy.

I almost feel as though we're owed a third movie, to right the wrongs of the second. To tie up the gaping plot holes which were introduced but never adequately explained - or even addressed! It's unlikely to happen, unfortunately, but we can only hope.

A third movie would need to complete Maleficent's arc, that's for sure. From not believing in love to believing in filial love, to believing in romantic love for others but not herself, the logical conclusion of that arc is for Maleficent to have a reason to believe in true love for herself again.

In the interests of interesting cinematic conflict and confusing our winged protagonist, two competing love interests would make for an interesting story. A parallel plot could bookend the plot of the first movie by recasting Maleficent in the role of protector - have Aurora's baby taken by an antagonist - ideally a magical one - and centre the story around recovering the child and defeating the evil whilst navigating matters of the heart.

Who would Maleficent be drawn to? A mysterious and volatile man of her own species, now that she knows that she's not the only one? Someone as exciting as herself? One whose wings match her own?

Or is love steadfast and loyal? Kind and devoted and dependable? Of course, I refer to Diaval, who is, in my mind, the only logical love interest for Maleficent, but she'd need some prodding to see that. He'd need to do something incredibly brave and she'd have to realise what losing him would really be like, that old chestnut. But really, he's the one. He's both her conscience and her constant, and his rationality and calm nature are a perfect foil for her impulsive hotheadedness. They're two halves of a whole, even without the romantic undertones.

(Let's not go into how Angelina Jolie and Sam Riley evidently agree with the above assessment of the Maleficent/Diaval relationship, based on interviews and the way in which each plays their character against the other. Or that Sam Riley is the unofficial official captain of the Good Ship Maleval. Someone should tell him. He needs a proper hat for it.)

I like the delicious synchronicity of Maleficent, burned by what she thought was true love, creating her actual true love in that darkest time of her life, and then not realising it for two decades. It has a certain perfection to it.

But hey, it isn't going to happen for much less than a miracle. Thank heavens for fanfiction, eh? Fixing the dodgy shit one fic at a time.

[ton-e]

Helheim is a land of peace.

The layers of agonized wails and woeful imploring she prepared her ears for was lost in the breeze of the melancholic melody of nature. Naked humming voices flowed serenely amidst the gradient of indigo blue leaves, dry and wrinkly, singing the ballads of lost souls attached to skinny tree branches, rinsed of color at the roots, blending smoothly with the pale greenery surrounding the wide meadow that grew to be her most favored solace.

Flowers, prey to decaying, small in stature but mighty in resistance, veiled the piece of soil that parted the center of the dark Kingdom in two, catching vines in the heart core of the spot her beloved boy once clawed his way to freedom, from a grave that came too early for a boy too gentle, too youthful, too much of a man before his time.

Her ghost Prince, her youngest; Stolen and crowned the King of Death, with a rain of tears on his cheeks and a cloak of swords in his back.

'Crowned, ' she spits, imagining it rippling through the dead earth and fell right onto Borr's bald head. Time failed to sweeten her bitterness as she thought, yes, this is how their history beautified the terrible incident. Time didn't heal her pain, neither did it gentled the sharpness of her teeth.

They had deceived him, betrayed him, punished him, stole his life away, and called it a reward.

After that dreadful day, She spent more nights weeping to slumber, eyes buried in the cushions of Hel's frigid chambers, burning brighter, hotter, than the hard oak feeding red-orange flames in the fireplace of her bedroom.

The phantom ice caressing the silver of her skin was more comfort than suffering, painless mercy she sunk into little by little every day until the light of day became unfamiliar. The cold here shares that quality, she ponders, a soft touch of unburnt ice to keep you from perishing.

Its a lot like her son, she thinks.

Yet, Bestla doesn't feel its presence permanently. A long, stone shaded cloak fell upon her shoulders, showering her back in a misty warmth provided by the thick velvet of the garment. Her eyes observe a silhouette shadowing the pale sun, the single leak of blight light hanging above the smoke sky.

"I was hoping to find you here, " Estrid wears a smile radiant enough to pale all gold in the 9 realms. "Peaceful up here, is it not? Hel liked hiding here, as a boy. Said the breeze was nice."

Bestla, for a moment, allows her eye to inspect the other woman for the first time. Her shoulders are round and solid, strong as a soldier, complemented by the stunning danger of a shieldmaiden. Bestla tracks night-dark locks brushing over creamy skin, long and curly. She's as much warrior as she is woman, it's as if she only now observes.

Her arms are an impressive addition, boxy as much as lean, holding closely on her shield and sword. A sword that, doubtlessly, claimed a long string of lives. She's not as fearful as it would be wiser to be. Estrid has been nothing but pleasant, as much as one could be when encountering their circumstance, her presence never frightening her as much as it saddened her.

"For someone carrying such heavy armor, you move with great stealth, Lady Sigurdsson, " If the other woman peaked at the too feather-soft timber of her voice, she had enough cheek to act differently. " I suppose you'd want an explanation as to why I'm avoiding my son?"

" Forgive me, your Grace, but Lord Hellison was never included in the conversation, " Bestla thought she spotted a bloom of red dusting her cheeks as she grinned gently, taking a spot none to tight to the former Queen, but close enough to leave some space had the smaller woman want to fill it. "I thought you would, after..."

"...It's unwise to polish hard truths. They cut harder that way, " The Queen's words were dressed in both honesty and advice, chapters of her life unfolding beneath her eyes as if to pledge truth to the statement. Estrid studied each word with expert attention.

Bestla raises, arms guarding her middle, eyes cast over the sea of flowers beneath her shoes.

"I'm grateful, for the kindness you showed him. I remain in your debt, in fact, though it escapes me how I can repay you here. "

"We don't believe in paying kindness, in the North. Goodness isn't traded in gold, " a quiet chuckle is swept by the breeze slashing through the grand mountains. Estrid inhales deeply and opens her arms when she lets her body fall upon the grass. "If it was, don't you think more people would practice it?"

The southerner's lips lift in a one-sided smile of her own, private and discreet. Debtless favors certainly sounded sweet to the ear.

" Aesir aren't precisely renewed for our gentle hearts, so I suppose not. I still mourn the stress you must have endured, however. Children are far from being a jolly affair. And the tales we hear as children don't exactly portray Titans as loving parents."

A stratum of blank seriousness shaped Estrid's features, graveness resting heavily on sharp boned cheeks and warm brown eyes. " I fell in love a day after meeting him, " Bestla swallowed hard at the admission. " I knew him for less than a sundown, but I knew he was mine. I was dead, alone and helpless and afraid, and he was too much like me to be a fateless coincidence. Words aren't enough to express it. He was just...Meant to fall, and I to catch him. "

The leafs sang to fill the edged hush musking around them. Estrid pimped the other's empty breathing as anger, for she heaved a sigh long enough to match the twin lack of words on both their parts, and excused her nerve. " Apologies. I don't dare name myself a mother, nor do I starve for anyone's approval, least of all yours. I only wished to say you raised a good son. A son lucky to have a mother like you, for as long as he did."

"...You helped him," Bestla started, chest light and comfortable, not cutting blades piercing her skin as she expected. "Kept food in his mouth, put clothes on his back. You loved him truthfully and protected him fiercely. You're not any less his mother than I."

"...It must be a sour thin all the same, for someone so beloved to greet you as a stranger. For that, I can't help but feel sorry still."

" That's a sentiment we can share. He... Hel, my child, my youngest son. Born at the edge of two worlds that never loved him. They aren't my own, not my blood, not him neither Odin, my kind hearted prince, my little lion boy. And yet, I was not their mother for the simple reason they didnt come from me. Everyone told me so.

They weren't my own, yet I held them at my chest, kissed their skinned knees and elbows, wiped their tears, and chased sickness with handpicked herbs and wet rags because I trusted nobody to do so. No language is enough to describe the love a mother has for their children.

No tongue is enough to put my love in words."

"...Even for Balder?"

Bestla laughs, an odde of heartache and sorrow. " Even him. Love gives no choices, last of all to parents. I still remember the day of his birth. A terrible storm broke the skies that evening, set fire to five houses, left a month's worth of reparations behind. He struggled, I've been told. He kicked and wailed and fought all the way.

I haven't had the chance to even hold him in my arms and he was so eager to run from me. My eyes never saw something more perfect than his tiny ears, his adorable little hands, and feet, his honey hair. He looked so much like me I hardly believed it.

But I felt no different with his brothers. There was a sickness in my mouth, when they were babes and I was forced to be departed from them. I couldn't bear to see them in another's arms, a wet nurse, or a squire, when asked to trust anyone else with them, I was faithless.

When Hel was born, he couldn't be convinced to let me go. He was so quiet, I thought perhaps this world claimed him already. His mother drew her last breath on that bed and I was the one he clung to, the one he hooked his fingers into. One of the King's guards present, he tried to prey him away, do you want to know what I did? I unsheathed a dagger from my thigh, slashed his throat, and watched him die." The confession was a river she scalded into freely.

"Would I insult your intelligence by asking if you're familiar with Sandr?" Bestla asked once Estrid wordlessly raised on her feet. She felt enough security to push her body forward. " Titans held mighty battles there."

A smirk pinched the taller woman's lips. " We were rowdy children, I'll confess. But yes, I know the location. You rebuild beautifully, " dark eyes shaped the bronze scorpio pendant suspended in the middle of Bestla's long neck. " Your family picked a Scorpio as their sigil. They made a fine legacy."

" Oh, it was. The finest. Beautiful, skillful, and yet, terribly lonely. I had 10 siblings. 5 brothers and sisters, however, I confess I felt more like an accessory than a member of a clan. We were strangers to each other. Foreigners with the same name, with our only common factor being our house.

Our country was gorgeous but very poor, you see. We trusted nobody, and in return, our distrust was repaid with hostility. Eventually, when our skin touched bone and we ran out of livestock, we opened the gates to trade. Naturally, we were invaded, our lands stolen, our necks had shackles only we could see.

And I held the key for everyone.

I want you to picture the most powerful man in the world, asking me to marry him," a bitter laughs cracks in her throat, and the wind whips away the water from her eyes. " He had a crown on his head and 50 thousand banner men behind him, with more gold than he could ever need or deserve and 100,000 spikes for our heads alone. What else could I have said?"

Her legs shift, stepping closer to Estrid, eyes as flat as her tone. " What I did, I did because I had to. To defend my people. To defend my family. To defend my blood. Every sacrifice, every drop of blood I've spilled, I did it so the people I love could live the peace I never did."

She advances, every step that's forward to her is one back for Estrid, eyes concentrated intensely on one another with enough fire to make Fire Giants sweat.

"All the sins that I have done. Or had done at my orders? The truths my children don't know, the truths a narrow number of people lived to keep the secret. The kind vicious enough to make fine warriors as yourself lose sleep, if they came to know them.

Perhaps this is my justice. A punishment for survival in a world where living is no bed of roses. But I won't stop helping my children, heart beating or otherwise.

There's a storm coming, My Lady. And I have every intention of ensuring everyone walks dry."

[theramblergal]

#the best part is that literally all of these fathers are around even today #yama is the father whose exacting nature drives you to ruin #dasharatha and shiva are father's who make wrong decisions but their love withstands their follies #whether or not they make it right #shiva is always THE father though #dasharatha is... human. poorly so. #rama is the father whom your mother forsakes. you bear his presence. you accept his love. it makes you feel guilty #as if you're betraying your kind and gentle mother. but she isn't there. so you take what you can #clinging to the last remnants of warmth. you cannot be left alone. #yayati is the father who takes everything except a 'no'#and when you refuse #he will curse you and loathe you and name you selfish #and give everything to whoever curries his favour the most - a father of syncophants #(and as an added flavour he will blame your mother for it because why not) #shantanu is the father who takes advantage - of your grief your loss your fears and your immaturity #vasudeva is the father who tries: “yes i am far away. but i am with you. always and forever” #and jamadagni is a case of his own - a spectre of rage dressed as an authority and guardian

I'm absolutely obsessed with how mythology portrays parent-child relationships, especially when at least one divine party is involved. I've talked about Karna and Arjuna's relationship with their fathers, and how it might tie up to their characters and situations, and the Mahabharata as a whole, but they're not the only ones! Speaking exclusively about father-son dynamics in this post, and we have a lot of them!

You have Yudhisthira, whose father Yama/Dharma shows up in his son's mortal life twice (iirc), gives him a 20 min quiz each time and then tells him that no son, we don't allow dogs in heaven (which, how dare, but we all have that one parent). This is so in line with Yudhisthira's arc, poor man that he is, having to spend his whole life finding answers to questions about righteousness and honour, losing his friends, brothers, wife and children in the process.

Rama-Dasharatha and Ganesha-Shiva are pretty straightforward - there's plenty of mutual love and respect despite the horrors ™️ , but then there is Rama and Luv-Kush. If you're counting the Uttar Kand, then these boys literally saw their mother die because there father could not stop questioning her honour. That has to mess with your head. There's no way it's a happily ever after story.

Another man who interests me greatly is Yayati. Like sir... what were you doing. Who grows old and thinks, "You know what would be great? Me borrowing my son's youth" and then curses them when they refuse? What were you thinking. What were your kids thinking. I need to take your heads apart with a scalpel, this is so incredibly insane. A father should give to his children - the only thing this man "gave" was to spare Puru from his curse.

You have Bhishma and Shantanu, another wild story. I understand that Bhishma chose to give up his birthright to make Shantanu happy, but can you actually tell me Shantanu wasn't at least somewhat interested in the plan? Shantanu is Bhishma's father, it's his job to stop him from doing things like this. I feel like pulling my hair out everytime I think of this. You can tell that Bhishma was afraid for his father's well-being when he made this decision, and that so... unfair.

On the other end of the spectrum are Krishna and Vasudeva, who are wholesome to the point of despair. Vasudeva giving up his everything just to get his boy out of prison?? Waiting years and years for him, but never lamenting or cursing Krishna for not coming fast enough??? That's peak fatherhood (Shantanu take lessons). And Krishna honours that sacrifice!! He comes from idyllic Vrindavan, slays the tormentor of his parents and rips the bars of their prison!!! And that old married couple trapped within those dank, dreary walls, with no one except the other for company, watches their godly son turn up to free them and show them the sky for the first time in more than a decade - the thought of it brings me to tears. Possibly the only part I like about the change from baby!Krishna to adult!Krishna is his reunion with Vasudeva and Devaki!

Oh, and last but not least, our favourite problematic pair: Jamadagni and sons. I'm slightly terrified by how Jamadagni was like "kill your mother for me she's sinful >:(" and when four sons refused, he actually killed them. HIS OWN SONS! Admittedly, in some versions he asks Parashuram to do the killing but like... those are his brothers. Who probably swaddled him and rocked him and fed him and played with him. And all this is presumably happening right in front of Renuka. And then Parashuram has to kill his mother as well, unless he wants to be a heap of ashes.

(In some versions, including the one I've always heard as a child, Parashuram is said to be "aware of" his father's immense power, which just seems to me a really polite way to say that Parashuram knew disobeying his father had consequences ™️ that weren't always right or rational)

Worse, after the killing is done, Jamadagni is so pleased he offers Parashuram a boon, presumably with the remains of the rest of his family still nearby, and when Parashuram asks for his mother and brother to be revived, Jamadagni is all like "ooh actually I got really angry, I think I'm going to renounce rage forever. Dw btw your brothers and mother forgot you killed them you're welcome <3"

Sir??? This is what you got out of the whole issue???? No wonder Parashuram killed a whole bunch of kings, this couldn't have been healthy.